Christmas 1921

A Christmas greeting sent to my grandfather Webb Hester's parents, Finlay Hester and Mabelle Lorena Webb Hester, circa 1921.  Mabelle was the daughter of Loren Webb and Francis Hannah Holmes Webb.  Our family has a copy of Loren's Civil War diary.

How is your sense of wonder?

There can’t be many alive who haven’t stood in awe and wonder at the sight of a newborn baby, so tiny and vulnerable, so dependent. Let’s pause for a moment from the rush of life and consider…

You, the strong and powerful that have fought hard battles… in wars, on the streets, in the public square. Perhaps your motivation comes from the desire to somehow make the world a better place for that little one.

You there, hiding in the shadows of shame and guilt. You can lift up your eyes and gaze into his face and feel the grace of this moment.

You there, who have hardened up against all the pain and loss.  Take a moment to look again, perhaps even stroke his soft hair, watch as he opens his eyes to catch the first glimpses of light and life.  Let the hardness begin to melt away.

You there, the weary and worn. You can find rest seeping into your bones as you cradle him in your arms, as you contemplate the wonder of the beating heart, the lungs taking in new air.

You there, the forgotten and lonely.  There’s a place for you here too. Let him grasp your finger with his tiny little fist and feel your profound connection in this grand scheme of humanity.

You there, the wise and learned. Consider for a moment all that is yet unknown about the millions of synapses occurring in that little brain, all that complexity and intricacy formed from the joining of two cells.

You there, whose life is dominated by chronic pain or illness. You’ve wondered what went wrong and why it hasn’t healed. I pray that a seed of hope is planted deep in your being, a hope that is able to generate even a little place of healing in your memories, your cells.  Then let it grow. Let it look up and away to redemption of suffering and on to another life where there will be no more sorrow or pain or tears.

Indeed for all of you, that’s my prayer this Christmas whatever your lot.

There’s so much about the Christmas story that seems so far beyond our wildest imaginations. And yet we’ve heard it so many times that we are lost to its wonder and mystery.

You there, the skeptic, full of doubt.  You the disillusioned, with all your unanswered questions.  Just consider for a moment, what it it’s all true?  What if that little babe in Bethlehem really was God made man? What if He really did choose to leave his throne, to become so vulnerable, not only in the manger but on the cross?  What if He really is orchestrating a grand plan that conquers everything that has kept us weighed down-- in defeat and despair, in loss and suffering, in fear of dying? 

Yes, it really is true!  Sometimes it’s hard to see it amidst all our pain and uncertainty, our broken hearts and broken dreams.  This Christmas I invite you to crack open the door, even just a bit and let the “wonders of His Love” bring you lasting peace and joy, not in circumstances or things, but in His Presence.

"Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means ‘God is with us’)."- Isaiah 7:14 NLT

Overcoming evil with good

Fourteen years ago this week The City Mission’s development team was busy with last minute preparations for the Laura’s Home groundbreaking.  There was much reason for celebration. Then came the 9/11 terrorist attacks.  We considered postponing the event but decided that it was important to move forward with a project that promised to bring hope and healing to thousands of hurting women and children. 

The day of the groundbreaking ceremony was the day the 9/11 flight ban was lifted for Hopkins Airport. Laura’s Home sits directly under a landing pattern for the airport.  Hearing the planes overhead during the ceremony was searing reminder of the deep and painful wound our land was suffering. 

Yet since that day thousands of women and children have found refuge and hope at Laura’s Home.  In the last five years alone Laura’s Home has been provided nearly 220,000 nights of safe shelter to over 5,000 women and children.

Today and every day Laura’s Home is filled to capacity. Women who have struggled through years of trauma, domestic violence, substance abuse and poverty are finding healing and hope, along with practical support and guidance.  Children and teens who have suffered the effects of chaos and upheaval in their families are cared for in a nurturing environment that supports their developmental and academic progress.

Hearing the planes fly over Laura’s Home today, I’m reminded once again of how important it is that we continue do all we can to overcome evil with good, to offer practical help and genuine hope to those come through our doors.

Thank you to all the donors, volunteers and other community partners who stand with us in reaching hearts and changing lives!

Remembering Mom

These thoughts mark the second Mother's Day without my Mom...

In many ways my life has been different from my mother’s.  I’ve lived a single life, achieved a college education, had a professional career, lived in big cities and have learned how to make it on my own.

Yet there is so much more we shared in common, and the values and character traits she worked to instill in my life have united her with me in far-reaching and profound ways.

I share her nurture, patience and compassion for children. She demonstrated that not only for her own children, but many others as well. I think of all the time and energy she put into leading my scout troop and giving swimming lessons to the neighborhood kids.   My first career was in service to families having young children with significant developmental disabilities.  What challenge and joy there was in helping families care for the special needs of their children and help them achieve their developmental potential.

I share my mother’s love of homemaking, making simple foods from scratch, trying new re

cipes, bringing joy to the family table with a special meal, setting the holiday table with tablecloth, china and the crystal glass ware, making a house a home.

I share my mother’s penchant for fun and joy with friends and family.  I think of the creative ways she taught and cared for her children without reliance on television.  I treasure the good memories of the family reunions held at my parents’ house and loved experiencing the bond with extended family. 

I share my mother’s love of using our hands to create things of purpose and beauty. She worked alongside me to complete my school and 4-H projects, and in selecting fabrics for my sewing projects and then finding just the right accessories.  She brought beauty to her home with her many pieces of needlework and artfully displayed collection of depression glassware.

I share my mother’s  values of simple yet practical life skills such as cleaning up after oneself, following through on commitments, sharing with others, working out our differences and putting in a good day’s work. 

I’m especially thankful for the seeds of faith she planted in my life at a young age, and how those seeds have grown and sustained me through some difficult times.

And in her last days I was able to bring her some comfort with tender words, a gentle touch, a song, a kiss.  In fact my last conversation with her was a bittersweet mix of a song and a kiss.  At the time I didn’t know it was the last, but perhaps somehow she did and her mother’s heart rose to the surface even in her pain and confusion.

From my first moments of life to her last, she was there for me. I am forever grateful.