Answered Prayers

After getting dressed this morning, I stopped at my jewelry box and rifled through various pieces until I found the ring I was looking for. As I slipped it onto my finger, I thought about the man who gave it to me and the stories it told.

This ring came from my husbands grandfather, Kenneth Hasch, who first gave it to his wife, Carmen, before passing it on to me shortly before his death in 2007. That fact alone makes it special, but what truly touches me is how Grandpa himself acquired it.

Kenneth worked for Douglass Aircraft Company for over 30 years. The company gave him a pin with a small diamond in it for every five years he was employed there. Upon his retirement (35+ years later), he was presented with a larger diamond, as a symbol of recognition for his dedication to the company. Grandpa Hasch took all those diamonds and had it made into a ring for his wife, my husband's grandmother.

Unfortunately, I never met Carmen Hasch. She passed away mere weeks before I was introduced to my husband, but I was able to get to spend several family and holiday meals with Grandpa Hasch before he left us to join his wife in heaven. I was incredibly moved and humbled when he offered me this special piece of jewelry just months before he died. After all, this wasn't just a ring that he picked out in a jewelry store. Over thirty years of labor, sweat, and sacrifice went into earning these stones. The ring is a symbol of a man's dedication to not just a company, but more importantly, to his family.

Now the ring was too small for my ring finger, but too large to fit properly on my smallest finger. I couldn't decide which finger I should get it sized for, so I wore it on my pinkie, though it was a tad loose. This worked for awhile until the awful day that it didn't. The night I went to remove it from my hand and realized that it was gone is stuck in my memory forever, along with the sickening feeling in my stomach that accompanied it. I was horrified and told my husband the news through tears. I begged him not to tell anyone in the family, certain I would be crucified on the spot.

For months I carried the guilt, but none more than Grandpa's final weeks with us. While in the hospital the last week of his life (January 2007), he even asked me if I still had the ring. I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodded yes, and silently asked Jesus to forgive me for the lie and, more importantly, for losing such a precious family heirloom to begin with. During and after the funeral I was terrified that someone would ask about the ring and I would be forced to confess it was gone. Mercifully, nobody did and I went through the majority of the year getting away with the lie.

Fast forward to fall of the same year. It's evening and I am sitting in my bedroom closet on a step stool, praying. (I have no idea why I chose this particular place, other than I had just finished fighting with my husband and needed a quiet, dark place away from him to calm down and receive comfort from my holy father. Apparently the closet was the best place for that. That is the one and only time I have done that. It was a little weird, I confess.) As I was praying to God for peace, comfort, and wisdom regarding the battle my husband and I just had, I found myself inexplicably asking God about Grandpa's ring. I don't recall what had made me think about it, but I do remember in that moment earnestly asking him to help me find it. I wanted it so bad, I could feel it in my bones. It had been almost a year since I had lost it, so I knew that the only way to find it was if God performed a miracle and put it right in front of me.

I got up, made up with my husband, and got ready to turn in for the night. I stopped to transfer some clean laundry from the washer and as I opened the dryer door, there on the lint trap sat the ring. All I could do was stare. With trembling hands I reached out and picked it up. I started to cry as I slipped it on my finger. I started screaming to Nathan, "I found it! I found it! I found Grandpa's ring!" However, that wasn't true. God had found it...He had answered my prayer. Do you know how many loads of laundry I had done in the eleven months since I had lost the ring? Countless times I had emptied the lint trap and not once had the ring been there. But mere minutes after begging God to bring it back to me, and completely trusting in the fact that he would and he could, HE DID.

I get goosebumps every time I think of that moment. The very next day I took the ring to get sized and every single time I wear it, I think of Grandpa Hasch and the sacrifice and dedication it symbolizes, and I think of God and praise Him for answered prayers.

James, Week 1

Umm, excuse me? Where did the summer go? Wasn't I just getting ready to start "Breaking Free?" And now I am knee-deep into two new studies already? What happened?

Life moves fast. Even when it's filled with all kinds of fabulousness (is that a word?), if you don't stop to breathe, reflect, remember, and apply, what good is it? I fully intend to share my "Breaking Free" experience (it was too monumental not to), but first I feel the need to dive into my James study, since it is already half over. I told you, life moves fast!

To recap, this is my second time getting into the book of James. My first experience was last spring, during Tuesday Evening Bible Study. You can read about that here. At that particular time I only participated in the DVD portion. I like to think it was because I was just too busy to do the extra reading and bazillion days of Beth Moore homework (which can be very time consuming), but if I am completely honest it's because I was lazy and uninterested. However, God wasn't going to let me off the hook that easy. He changed my heart and my desire and when the opportunity came to do the study again, this time on Tuesday mornings, I jumped at the chance. I eagerly bought the book and dove into the homework with a zest I've never felt before and now never want to lose.

In week one, Beth wasted no time getting personal by asking us to delve into our family issues. And who doesn't have family issues? I am learning that everyone has at least one or two crazy people in their family...they may just have to reach farther back into generations or farther over into the extended family to find them. Personally, I struggle with being one of the very few members of my family who believe in and accept Jesus Christ as their savior. Satan loves to use this sense of isolation and loneliness to create in me feelings of inadequacy and doubt regarding my place in the church and even in God's love. Sometimes I don't know what bothers me the most...coming from a family of non-believes or coming from a family of divorce, addiction, and brokenness. So when I read about James being the brother of Jesus (Ready for an embarrassing confession? I didn't know that Jesus had siblings until I did this study. Yet I am a bible study leader! If that isn't God's work in me, I don't know what is!), and all the tension and hostility and raw emotions that come along with that, I felt relieved. I mean, family issues go all the way back to Jesus! He and I have something in common! They say misery loves company, and I can't think of better company than Jesus himself, the ultimate Healer and Restorer.

Then in the fourth day of the first week of homework, we are shown how James, the half brother of Jesus, went from being a doubter to a leader. I repeat: from a doubter to a leader. Do you see the parallel here? I was a doubter! Even though I went to youth group, accepted Christ, was baptized even, I still doubted! Yet, God has taken me from that place of unbelief and sent me sprinting in the opposite direction. Now I can't get enough of Him, enough of His word, enough of His presence and guidance and love, and I find myself wondering how I even got along without Him. Where my days used to be filled with thoughts of myself, now they are consumed with thoughts of Him. Frustrating years spent leaning on my own strength and understanding has led me to a new place of trusting God’s plan for my life. I could weep everyday for the love and grace that He pours out over me. This transformation has been in the works for at least ten years now, but most of it has drastically taken shape over the last ten months. I highlighted and circled the following sentences in my workbook (taken from scholar Scot McKnight, describing a "biographical reconstruction"):

"The first thing a convert does is tell his or her own biography in a new way. A basic reorientation is like this: what mattered most before no longer matters; what did not matter before is now central."

And that, my friends, is where I am at today. It's been a long road getting here, but luckily, God never gave up on me.

127-137

127. Friends who love my children.
128. Time to just write write write!
129. Songs of praise on the radio that make me want to dance in joy for Him.
130. A heart that yearns for Him.
131. Sand, sun, water, family, friends, food, laughter, relationships, memories, long walks, new experiences, easy conversations by firelight, gooey marshmallows, promises to repeat it all again next year...fabulous vacation.
132. Spur of the moment family dinners.
133. Rain that ends just in time.
134. Kindness and generosity of friends who don't mind working and getting their hands dirty.
135. The never-ending effort by husband to make our home beautiful.
136.Witnessing brotherhood.
137. New dreams forming in my heart by God's own hands.