When I Wake Up Singing

Just the other night, I woke up…several times…for no apparent reason.  Well, not really.  It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and I surely hope it won’t be the last time.  I wasn’t continuing a dream into wakefulness.  There was no story that had come before what woke me.  I simply heard and sang “I’ve just seen Jesus, I tell you He’s alive, I’ve just seen Jesus, my precious Lord alive.”  It made me unbelievably happy.  Then I would drift back to sleep, only to awaken again a short while later hearing and singing “I’ve just seen Jesus…”  God prepares us in His own ways.  These events don’t happen by accident.  They make me long for that heavenly homecoming whenever the time is right.  They fill me with excitement and peace all at the same time.

Another song that has awakened me on many occasions is “To God be the Glory.”  I didn’t even realize I knew the words, but I have often awoken singing “Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, let the earth hear his voice…”  I could wake up singing pop songs, or show tunes, or TV jingles, but I don’t.  I wake up singing praises to God, not every night, but when He wills it.  I feel more loved in those moments than I can adequately explain. 

I can only hope that others recognize the realness of God through the songs He places in their hearts.  It’s a wondrous experience.

“Don’t ya know that I sing because I’m happy?  I sing because I’m free.  His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.”  This is a tune that comes to me when I’m walking my dog, or sitting quietly in my living room in the evening, or when I’m driving along an interstate.  It makes me happy just to realize that if my God looks out for tiny birds, He also watches out for me.  Just think…there are close to 7 billion other people on the planet, not to mention everything else in all of creation.  He knows each hair on my head.  He knit me in my mother’s womb.  It’s hard to even grasp the greatness of our God, but this song helps me do that, and it makes me happy.

Happy Birthday Never Sounded So Good

That's me...on my July 22nd birthday way back in 1959.  Fortunately, I can tell you that there was, indeed, a body attached to that little head.  I came along about a month ahead of schedule and with great drama attached to my birth, but that's a story for another time.  Today's story is all about the family birthdays my mother is still helping us celebrate this summer.  That's her, below, holding me on Easter Sunday in 1960.  My sisters and brother shared in the photographic moment.

Following multiple strokes over the past 20 years, each one of which caused increasing physical incapacity, my mother reached a point this past May where she lost the ability to speak.  Her mouth had become paralyzed and her tongue thickened.  Due to severe arthritis, she is no longer able to write or type, so her communication ability had become extremely restricted.

Late in June of this year, my sister and I traveled from our homes in another state to visit with my mother on her birthday.  As we prepared to sing that old familiar childhood tune, my sister informed our mother that she had to sing along with us.  To our surprise and amazement, she sang "Happy birthday to me..."  Each word was understandable and her voice brought joy to our ears and mist to our eyes.  Still, she could not verbalize even single syllable words with any clarity.

The next day, we sang "Jesus Loves Me" and "You Are My Sunshine" with her.  Her voice rang out with clarity on each one.  Two weeks later, she sang "Happy Birthday" to her brother over the cell phone that had been dialed for her.  All this time, she remains mostly unable to speak.

My birthday is tomorrow, and I will be traveling again to visit with my mother.  I look forward to enjoying the sweet sound of a woman in her waning years finding her voice even when no one, including her, knew it was possible.  Our bodies and minds are mysterious and wonderful things.

Happy birthday never sounded so good, thanks to this blessing bestowed upon my mom.  It brought encouragement to me, and to her.  Scientists may try to figure it all out, you know, how our brains really work.  In the end, however, there is nothing left to do but praise God for all of nature's variety and grandeur, for He alone knows the beginning and the end in all things.

In college

Now

Some of the Best Gifts

Did you ever think about the great gifts you've received in your life?  I know, I know.  It's better to give than to receive.  But, it's also a good and wonderful thing to accept gifts graciously, and sometimes with much excitement.  Such was the case nearly 48 years ago when my Uncle Art gave me the greatest thing a child could receive on her 4th birthday -- a shiny, new, red bicycle.  Within days, those training wheels came off and I was speeding along the neighborhood streets with the big kids.  I was gaining a degree of independence and growing up.  I was a happy gift recipient, and my uncle was pleased at my reaction to the gift he'd given me simply because he loved me.



Note the very satisfied smile.  Uncle Art, the gift giver, sits in the background with my childhood playmate, Debbie, who had just attended my mid-summer birthday party.



Fast forward to the new millenium, about 40 years later, and much the same story unrolled in a far-off land south of the equator and thousands of miles from here.  By this time, I had a beautiful little Colombian girl named Monica in my Compassion family and, on the occasion of her 10th Christmas, I bought her a terrific, new bike.  Until that point, we exchanged fond words through our letters, but after that point, I received more expressions of love than I think I'd ever heard in my entire life up until then.  She wasn't just enamored by the thing she'd received, though that was plenty good.  She understood, even at that young age, that God blessed her by bringing someone into her life from a very distant place who simply loved her, even though we'd never met in person.  Her bike wasn't just a bike...it was love itself. She felt it and she knew it.



Enoche and his father on the day we met in person.



Monica also had an international little brother through my Compassion family.  He lives in Haiti and, like her, was being raised in a family with love but little else.  Usually, he would receive an animal to raise with Christmas gifts I sent him.  One year it would be a goat, another a donkey, and still another it might be chickens.  I met Enoche and his father when he was just nine years old, and learned more about their country, living conditions there, and a degree of poverty most of us don't fully comprehend in America.  So, when he was reaching his early teens, I was heartened to see an expression of love from a father to his son that amazes me even to this day.  When he received the money I'd sent for Christmas gifts for him and his family, instead of purchasing livestock, clothing or other supplies that were surely much needed, Enoche's father opened a bank account in his name and deposited the money for him.  Like our father in heaven, he loved his son so much that he put aside his own needs to provide for his son's future in this selfless way.

Gifts given out of love are something to cherish.  Gifts received in this same spirit teach us about ourselves, our relationships, our world and, indeed, the giver of all good things in life.  Thanks be to God.