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.

What's in a name

There are over 3,000 names recorded in my Dad’s Family Tree Maker, 71 of them are my direct ancestors, grandmothers and fathers going back 12 generations.  We also have an extensive collection of photographs, letters and other traces of their lives.  Yet for many all we know is their name, spouse, children and birth/death dates.  Even so, they are remembered, if only with a few lines in our tree. Somehow don’t we all hope that we are remembered well after our passing?

I wonder about that as I walk up and down the rows of old cemeteries looking for grave markers for those recorded in our family tree.  I have seen many markers so badly deteriorated that names and inscriptions are no long visible and many stones have broken off or tumbled over.  I imagine family members standing around the open grave, mourning the passing of a loved one and yet now the memory of their once vibrant life has faded and perhaps has even been forgotten with the passing of generations.

Genealogy is important to God too, as evidenced by the record of Jesus’ ancestry in books of Matthew and Luke. So also, names are important to God.  In biblical times, the meaning of names held much more importance and reflected something about the person’s character or purpose. 

Several hundred years before Christ, Isaiah foretold His coming and even then, assigned him the name of Immanuel.  “…the Lord himself will give you the sign. 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

My name is important to God too. So is yours.  The psalmist writes, “You saw me before I was born/ Every day of my life was recorded in your book/ Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. Psalm 139:16 NLT

This song entitled “He knows my name” speaks to the reality of His watch over our lives:

I have a Maker

He Formed My Heart

before even time began

my life was in his hands

He knows my name

He knows my every thought

He sees each tear that falls

and hears me when I call

I have a Father

He calls me his own

He'll never leave me

no matter where I go. 

(Song lyrics by Tommy Walker)

The opening pages of the book of Matthew shows us that Jesus’ name also carried special meaning as “Saviour.”  “And she will have a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” Matthew 1:21 NLT

God loves families as well. Even before He made the world, God devised a plan, a way for us to become part of His family. “God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure….”  Ephesians 1: 5 NLT

And now God’s plan has been fulfilled in Jesus, Saviour, Immanuel. You are invited to meet Him at the manger, follow Him to the cross and receive his most gracious and generous gift poured out for you there. 

Deborah Phillips

Christmas 2014

Enduring Love

Thoughts for Father's Day...

One thing about my Dad that has meant so much to me in recent years is the valiant and enduring way he cared for my Mom in her last years, as she suffered with dementia.  I think it has to be one of the most difficult diseases for caretakers to deal with. Besides the concern for their safety and the daily challenges of caring for their every need, there is the heartbreak of watching them slip away from you little by little into another world. Answering the same questions over and over again, guiding them once again through the most menial tasks can be exhausting for even the most patient among us.

Even while Mom was in a nursing facility recovering from a broken hip, Dad was usually there several hours a day to help her with every meal and often stayed into the evening to tuck her into bed.  Mom always knew who he was but she didn't remember him being there. She was restless in the night and often pedaled her wheelchair or even walked up to the nurses station saying "I can't find my husband."

While in the nursing facility she often said "I want to go home." She loved her home and even in her dementia she was drawn to its comfort and familiarity.  She recovered from the broken hip well enough to come home in a few months and she was walking independently around the house. That amazing feat was a testament to both her determination and the care and encouragement that Dad provided.

During one of her hospitalizations I sat by her bed while Dad went home to rest for awhile. She was restless and agitated, pulling on her bedding and gown for much of the time, a response to being in an unfamiliar environment. When Dad got back he pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed, took her hand and started talking gently to her. Her eyes fixed solidly on his and she quieted right down. Then she realized I was still on the other side of the bed and she reached out her hand for me.  She kept shifting her gaze between the two of us. It was if she somehow found her grounding in reality through our physical connection and it brought her peace. It was such a profound and tender moment to see the power of the human connection and the strength of the bond between Mom and Dad.

As Dad and I sat on the back porch waiting to go the funeral home for Mom's services, he said, "I did the best I could."  I suppose in dealing with a disease such as dementia, its hard to feel that enough is enough, there's always more that one could do. 

But it's clearly evident Dad that your love, endurance and drive remained strong to the end, even in your fatigue. I am forever grateful that you were able to walk with her as you did through that dark valley.

  

Memorial Day memories and traditions

It's good to remember, to look back, reflect on our days, consider those who came before us and gave so much of themselves to make a better life for us. 

This Memorial Day I reflect on my Mother's military service. She was always a patriot at heart and joined the Women's 484th Army Air Force in 1944 leaving high school just prior to graduation. She served in Topeka, Kansas processing crews preparing to go overseas.  While in the army she participated in a women's synchronized swimming team.

 

Both of my parents proudly served and have often told us stories of their experiences. It's a good thing to listen to, to remember and to pass on.

  

It was probably one of those Sunday afternoon conversations that turned to a discussion of what clothes they could still fit into. Here is Mom and Dad showing off - Dad still fit in his Army jacket and Mom fit in her wedding dress.

 

Memorial Day starts with breakfast at the American Legion. Gathered there are the veterans that will be participating in the parade, and later performing ceremonies at area cemeteries.  The guns they use in the gun salute are lined up there. Here is Mom checking out the photo wall of other local veterans.

 

Mom never wanted to miss the Memorial Day services held in the memorial park next to the library, just a few blocks from the home where I grew up.  Here are Mom and Dad observing the services.

 

 

Here are Mom and Dad comparing notes with one of the parade participants. 

 

Headed home, talking it over...

 

 

Later in the day our tradition is to visit the cemeteries where family members have been laid to rest,  the Fitchville Cemetery for my Dad's side of the family and the Hester Cemetery for my Mom's side of the family. Here is the American Legion members performing a gun salute at the Fitchville Cemetery. 

 

 

On this occasion we were visiting the Hester Cemetery, across the road from the Hester Homestead constructed by my great-great-great grandfather Martin Hester and his son Martin M. Hester. We were pulling out of the drive when we saw Mom's younger brother pulling in the drive with his step-daughters. Here I am with my parents and Uncle Bob.

 

At my Mother's funeral service these American Legion members approached the casket one at a time, stepped back and saluted her.  It touched me deeply. I'm thankful for their service in showing deep respect and honor for those of their comrades who have passed on.

 

 

 

With love and gratitude for all you have meant to us, you are fondly remembered and deeply missed.

 

Elizabeth Ann Hester Phillips, 9/20/23 - 9/16/2013