Shilah Writes

My first memory of Mom is sitting on her lap with my sister Amy in one arm, me the other, and a big Ole picture book in between us. My mom mysteriously knew the words to make the pictures come alive, complete with sound effects and expressions of sadness and joy. She smelled of Palmolive dish soap and hard work. On Sundays, a dab of 'Here's My Heart' perfume by Avon and Aqua Net hairspray.  In summer, when I think of Mom, I think of Lily of the Valley and Lilacs, rows and rows of peas and beans to shell and snip, and taking off farm work right after lunch, for a swim in the river, fully clothed, why? I do not know. I suppose it was the most natural and practical thing to do, to end the noontime break with a slow meander to the river and a dip into its mirky, dark water. She always prioritized that we read important books and listen to good music, taking us to the closet library, bringing home stacks of books and records of "On the Banks of Plum Creek" or One Day a...

Where did we get the idea that asking God again and again for healing and a miracle of that impossible thing, means we aren't surrendered? It's not weakness or a lack of belief or a question of your trust in God either.  No. Asking over and over is strength and faith. It is abiding and shifting the pain of the lack and the struggle over to God Almighty, which is the only proper thing to do. I think true surrender is all of the struggle. Giving up on your own wits and wisdom, allows you to become utterly reliant on God's promises. This utter reliance on God for every little or big thing means you recognize your need for a Savior. It means... nothing in my hands I bring, simply to the cross I cling. If it breaks you, its not to shame you and cripple you, but to See Him...the One who holds the broken, the beaten, and the hurting... Do both. Surrender and Ask. Keep after it. Don't stop. While that goes on and on and on, make sure you add in praise and worship to God your Ma...