Totally Committed

Can't believe it's been over three months since I've blogged...time does fly when you're having fun!  But today is October 14th, a very special day in my family, one worth pausing to think about and blog about.  You see, sixty-three years ago today was the second most important day in my parents' lives.  The first most important day was the day they committed themselves to Christ.  Their second most important day was the day Harley Eugene Daniel and Marie Ellen Hitchcock committed themselves to each other and after sixty-three years their commitment "till death do us part" is stronger than ever!  In over six decades together they have lived in four different states, raised three girls in a Christian home, sent their girls through a Christian college and wed them off to Christian mates.  They have helped care for three grandsons, three granddaughters and two great-grandchildren.  They have served the church as deacon and deacon's wife and elder and elder's wife.  Together they have  entertained countless Christians in their home and led many, many more to Christ.  They continue to work and play side-by-side each day serving others and serving each other.  I was blessed last week to spend several days in their home observing with delight the way they have truly become one person, finishing each other's sentences, reading each other's mind, completing each other's tasks and unashamedly giving each other constant hugs, kisses and affirmations of "I love you"s.  It did my heart good to see that level of commitment in my parents because it seems like here lately I've seen so much of the other side.  I hear every week of another young couple who has decided to give up, that they feel their marriage isn't worth fighting for and that breaks my heart.  I  know life is hard, struggles are real, disagreements will happen...My parents have had their share and they haven't hidden that from me.  But they've learned that with Christ and commitment they can get through it and make every day better than the one before.  I want to be just like them when I grow up!
Today, October 14th, is very special to me for another reason.  Forty-five years ago today was THE most important day in my life...the day I committed my life to Christ.  I didn't realize that day that it was my parents' eighteenth wedding anniversary.  There were a lot of things I didn't realize back then, after all, how much can a nine-year old girl really know?  But I knew who Jesus was and I knew what He did for me and I knew that I wanted to live for Him.  So I committed my life to Him that day and I've been trying to honor that commitment "till death, then we shall never part" ever since.  Did I understand on that day everything my spiritual journey would involve?  Not any more than my Mom as a blushing 19-year-old bride understood about marriage.  But I've learned with Christ and commitment I can make every day better than the one before.  And I thank God that he never gives up on me!

Our Rubber Anniversary

On July 1, 2012 Keith and I celebrated a very special occasion, our Rubber Anniversary.  I know that tradition mandates that the 25th anniversary is a Silver Anniversary and a 50th is a Golden Anniversary but was unsure of what the 35th signified until I received my gift from Keith  when he presented me with a set of four very expensive beautiful new tires to go on my old van and proclaimed, "Happy Anniversary, Honey!" and I knew then that the 35th year was our Rubber Anniversary.  After our recent blowout on I-40 I felt like this was a pretty appropriate and loving gift since we now spend practically every day of the year travelling the globe together in that old van and his thoughtful gift was only intended to keep us safely on the road together for many more years to come.  I reciprocated by going out the next day and purchasing him a new set of luggage (the last 4 years has literally worn out the old set) with a card stating I hoped to follow him around for another 35 years.  In the card I reminded him that 35 years prior I had stood before our family and friends and had promised to him in a shaky little girl's voice (I WAS a child bride!) the words of Ruth, "Whither thou goest, I will go; whither thou lodgest I will lodge; thy people shall be my people and thy God, my God."  Then I wrote the words that I told him on that hot July day so many highway exits ago, "I go where you go, amigo!"  It's been quite a journey these past 35 years...but as the song says that accompanied our exit on our wedding day, "We've only just begun to live...White lace and promises... A kiss for luck and we're on our way...We've only begun...Before the rising sun we fly...So many roads to choose...We'll start at walking and learn to run...And yes we've just begun...Sharing horizons that are new to us....Watching the signs along the way...Talking it over just the two of us....Working together day by day...Together, together...And when the evening comes we'll smile...So much of life ahead...We'll find a place where there's room to grow...And yes we've just begun...We've only just begun!"   Happy Rubber Anniversary, Sweetheart!

LOL

One of the sweetest sounds to my ears is hearing Pete's laugh.  When he was a baby I longed to hear a "normal baby" cry but the best he could muster was an occasional high-pitched whimper, sounding more like an injured cat.  Now after 29 years he still hasn't mastered the art of crying, occasionally trying to convince us with a pitiful "fake cry", but he has learned to laugh, and laugh often.  This manchild of ours has provided years of joy as we have laughed at him/with him at his antics which we find humorous but in a "normal" person we might find, well, stupid!  Now it's his turn to laugh at us.  A week or so ago we woke up in Bardwell, Kentucky and I asked Keith if he remembered waking me up in the middle of the night in a panic asking me, "Sandra, Where are we?"  When I said this Pete erupted into a giggle, and I call it a giggle because that's what his laugh usually sounds like...a little girl's giggle.  Then I told Keith I didn't worry about him asking that, after all we wake up in a different town every week. But I said I would start worrying when he woke me up calling me by the wrong name, at which Pete let out a big belly laugh, rolling in the floor laughing.  And it dawned on me, He got it!  I'm so glad that of all the things we have taught Pete over the years we've taught him to have a sense of humor.  As Keith and I get older and have some "Senior moments" we start asking ourselves who among us is most mentally challenged!  In spite of all of our disabilities I'm thankfull that we have the ability to laugh at ourselves.  Maybe some day we will die laughing!

Time In A Bottle

If I could save time in a bottle the first thing that I'd like to do

Is to save every day till eternity passes away just to spend it with you.

If I could make days last forever, if words could make wishes come true

I'd save every day like a treasure and then, again I would spend them with you.

If I had a box just for wishes and dreams that never came true

The box would be empty except for the memory of how they were answered by you.

But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them.

I've looked around enough to know that you're the one I want to go through time with...

-Jim Croce, 1974-

One of the blessings/curses of teaching preschool for 15  years is running into my former students who are now all grown up reminding me of how old I've become.  That happened to me yesterday when I walked into Chick-fil-a and saw a beautiful blonde-haired teen-aged girl sitting at a table surrounded by loud, hormonal teen-aged guys.  I had to do a double-take before I recognized the once-shy little three-year old student of mine and exclaim, "Shelby, I almost didn't recognize you; You're all grown up!"  As I watched this group of excited teens who had gathered together to plan their Senior Prom my own memories of high school came flooding back to me.  My very conservative parents had not allowed me to go to my Senior Prom so I was excited to be on the committee planning my Senior Banquet.  We had chosen rather appropriately that year as our theme song  Jim Croce's "Time In a Bottle" and decorated each place setting with a tiny bottle filled with colorful sand (which is probably still buried in my hope chest somewhere between my diploma and all of Keith's love letters).  And as I watched this new generation of teens I couldn't help but ask myself, Where did the time go?  I had another of these deja-vu moments a couple of weeks ago when someone on Facebook asked me to join our school's online yearbook.  In the 37 years since my graduation I hadn't been back to any high school reunions and only kept up with a few chosen classmates so it was eye-opening to see their updated photos and read about their now grown-up lives.  It was awkward to see "The Italian Stallion" and remember our frequent lighthearted flirtations.  Keith would be chagrined to see that his graying hair was also turning loose, though Keith had never really felt threatened by him (they both knew back then where my real affections were).  I viewed with intrepidation the page of the class nerd (think "Screech" on "Saved By the Bell") whose annoying advances I often dodged.  I remembered one particular time I ran out of excuses and lamely accepted a date (can you say "awwwwkward!") then, overcome with fear that my friends would see me with a "loser" I managed to get out of the date.  He never pursued me again after that day and I kind of missed it.  It gave me great pleasure (and some relief) to see that today he has a beautiful wife who obviously chose to look past the cover and he is a successful, award-winning architect.  I viewed with sorrow and a certain vulnerability the posts about our many classmates who have passed from this life to the next, many of them victims of various forms of cancer.  I realized that death, and cancer in particular, is no respector of persons...It had taken the popular, and the nobody, the  jock and the nerd alike.  Most of all looking at that yearbook I realized that time stands still for nobody.  If I could put time in a bottle those sands would still keep seeping through till they would eventually run out.  And that's exactly as it should be.  I wouldn't go back and relive those days for anything, neither do I want to rush through these days to get on to the next.  Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking, just as it should be...and I want to hang on to that pendulum for as long as I can and enjoy the ride!

The Least Of These

"...Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.  For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you took me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to see me...I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me."    Matthew 25:34...40.


I recently did a very stupid thing.  I know, any of you who have read my blogs are probably thinking...AGAIN?  No, I didn't glue my fingers together this time, not even my toes, but I did manage to break my baby toe!  We had just checked into our motel room a week ago in Jonesboro, Arkansas on a Saturday night where Keith was to preach the next day.  It was around midnight and I was tired, not looking, and managed to  kick HARD the leg of a sofa with my baby toe, immediately sending excruciating pain up my leg.  My poor little baby toe has always been a source of embarrassment to me since it's always been short, fat and stubby and to my girls' dismay they have inherited my ugly baby toe gene (Ashley calls it her potatoe toe) but now it became increasingly fat, purple and ugly!  It was amazing to me how hurting the tiniest, most despicable part of my body could affect my life.  For the next several days I hobbled barefoot around the motel, only forcing my toes in a closed-toe shoe to  hobble into church, slump down on a pew, then kick off my shoe.  The most humiliating thing about injuring my toe is having to back down on my new-found comittment to walking three times per week with Keith.  Just when I was beginning to look forward to our long "walking and  talking" sessions I've had to give it a break.  Keith hasn't complained though!  It has reminded me of what Paul said to the Corinthians about treating even our weakest body parts with special honor and how if one body part suffers, we all suffer with it.  It's also made me think of what Jesus said about us serving our weaker members, "the least of these".  I admit that my focus is sometimes on myself and what makes me comfortable instead of reaching out to the hurting.  I wish I could be more like my husband who has ALWAYS since I've known him shown kindness and compassion to the little guy and treated everyone as if he were Jesus Himself.  Just in the last 24 hours I've seen Keith spend hours counseling with the hurting, both on the phone and face to face, take in a homeless young man to give him temporary shelter in our home, visit a murder convict in jail, take food to a family whose loved one is on hospice care, all while suffering himself with bronchitis.  Keith not only preaches the word but practices it.  He would be embarrassed if he knew I was typing this but there's not much of a chance of that since he refuses to embrace technology...doesn't have time for it.  Keith doesn't blog, text or tweet and says "I plan to go to heaven without any Facebook friends!"  I have no doubt he'll make it there.  I just hope God gives me grace and a healed toe so I can walk and talk on those golden streets by his side.

Happy Birthday, Ben!!!

Today marks a milestone for someone who is near and dear to my heart.  My sweet father-in-law, Ben Paul Parker, aka Papa, turns 80 years old today.  I know that this isn't that noteworthy in an age where more and more people are living into their 80's and even their 90's but for the Parker family this day is pretty remarkable.  For the last few years Ben has faced death over and over again, even had CPR performed on him by  a team of doctors and nurses in the operating room as recently as four months ago.  For several years Keith has prayed that our parents would live into their 80's.  My parents reached the goal of that prayer a few years ago and Keith's mother will this August.  Keith and I are all too aware of how many of our friends have already lost all their parents and are very grateful to have all four of ours still with us.  But no matter how old they become, no matter how many health challenges they have or how feeble we see them becoming right before our eyes, we're never ready to give them up.  So today we rejoice that Ben has lived to celebrate his 80th birthday with his family.  I watched him last Saturday as he got ready to go to his birthday party and delighted in his excitement as he donned his party hat and kept urging us "C'mon..let's go!" like an eager eight-year-old.  Ben has always had a zest for life and lived it to the fullest, whether taking his grandsons fishing or taking his granddaughters on special trips, pushing the grandkids to go on just one more roller coaster ride at Opryland or stay up past midnight to yell "Roll Tide" one more time on Bourbon Street!  Though he has slowed down considerably physically, his appreciation for life hasn't waned.  Every one of his kids and grandkids can probably tell you of the number of times he has persuaded them to come sit with him in his car so he can play for them one more time the tape of Daniel O'Donnell crooning the words to his favorite song:  "Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is a mystery and only this moment is mine."  Last Saturday I couldn't help but think that the last time Ben was surrounded by that many of his loved ones was in the hospital room when we were afraid that day might be his last.  Ben had requested for his party that there be no gifts (though we all ignored that request).  I think he knows that for him at this point the greatest gift is life itself.  And though he would be the first to tell you that he is prepared spiritually to leave this life and go to live with God, for now he is going to love this life and live each day to the fullest.  Happy Birthday, Ben!!!

We Have A BIG Family!

It's now been three years and three months since Keith and I hit the road as he became a full-time traveling preacher (or circuit-preacher, as they were known in the olden days).  Really?!?  Thirty- nine months on the circuit?  Time flies when we're having fun!  After a recent three week extension out in California  I just enjoyed a few days at home "catching up" on things as I sent Keith and Pete on to Alabama to preach the word without me.  When I visited on Sunday at the Hendersonville Church (I say "visited" because even though our membership is still there we are gone more than we are there...not unlike a few of the other members :-} ) I was asked the question that I often hear:  Are y'all  still enjoying all this traveling?   For Keith the answer is always, "Yes!"  As long as he can be preaching  somewhere he's having a ball!  And Pete is quite a trooper as well.  And for the most part I'm still loving it too....but every now and then I think back to our wedding vows when I quoted  in an innocent, child-like 19-year- old voice from the book of Ruth,  "Wherever you go, I will go.  Wherever you lodge, I will lodge..." and I wonder if I REALLY knew what I was comitting to.  Yet after almost 35 years of marriage I still tell Keith, "I go where you go, amigo!"  And for the most part I do go and LOVE it.  I mean, what's not to love, getting to travel the country seeing God's creation, meeting wonderful people, eating countless pot-luck meals, hearing God's word preached almost every night of the week (he keeps me on the straight and narrow!)  Our grocery and utility bills have been drastically reduced since we're never home and we now spend ALL our time together 24/7 (which may be an advantage OR disadvantage).  But honestly sometimes I just crave to be sleeping in my own bed, enjoying the home that I spent over 30 years building, furnishing and maintaining.  I just want to stay home long enough to cook a nutritious meal and do a thorough Spring cleaning.  Keith laughs at this and finds it hard to believe but I really mean it and, truth to be told while Keith was born a rambling man, I was born to be a homemaker. It's what I've known and loved for most of my life...it's my comfort zone.  But I'm learning that I can also be comfortable in Alabama...or Arkansas...or  Kentucky...or Missouri...or Georgia...or Alaska...or California because home truly is wherever your family is.  And I'm not just talking about husband and children but my CHURCH family.  It's been amazing to me how many times we've pulled into a place not knowing a soul and left with a true connection to our new brothers and sisters and a reluctance to leave them.  We've discovered so many wonderful family members everywhere we go and our family just continues to grow!  And the amazing thing we've experienced is that wherever we go there is someone who knows someone else that we know and the connections just go on and on.  We recently enjoyed our "family reunion" (that's exactly what visiting different congregations feels like to me) in California.  Folks there get especially excited when they find out we're from THE SOUTH...and to them THE SOUTH is anywhere west of Colorado and south of Michigan.  They immediately start telling us of  Brother & Sister So & So that they know in THE SOUTH and would we tell them hello for them when we get back.  Last Sunday when I was conveying those greetings passed on to one of the members at Hendersonville he remarked, "It really is a small world, isn't it?"  And I replied, "No it's not a small world but  We have a BIG family!"

What Do I Crave?

Today marks the last full day that I have to spend with my grandbaby, Eden, for awhile.  I've been blessed for the last 2 1/2 weeks to visit in her home in California as Keith has been preaching for three different churches in the area.   During this time I've played many games of peek-a-boo and pat-a-cake, sung lots of songs, read many books, changed countless diapers, and rocked Eden to sleep for many naps.  I've watched her grow from a helpless infant to a rolling, active baby who now sits alone and entertains herself with toys...even sitting in a highchair enjoying rice, bananas and sweet potatoes (good "Southern" girl).  I've also accomplished many projects, marking each one off Ashley's list she's made for me right down to the one we finish up today:  Babyproofing the house by installing outlet covers and cabinet locks. Working side-by-side with Ashley has made each project fun but also challenging as she's witnessed how incompetent her mother really is.  You see, I seem to make things harder for myself by always doing it the wrong way before figuring out the best way to do it.  Like last night when I was reconstructing a couple of wooden chairs they had picked up at a yard sale.  I was using Gorilla Glue to reset the wicker backing into the frame and if you've used that product you know what a remarkable product it is.  Gorilla Glue works great to give a permanent bond of almost anything to almost anything....including fingers.  In an effort to spread the sticky stuff where it needed to be I managed to get it all over my hands and soon my ten digits were threatening to become two big blobs!  In a panic I ran to the bathroom sink and began washing with soap and water which made my hands gooier and stiffer than ever.  I'd forgotten that the directions said to use WATER to make the bond stronger!  By this time I'm really in a panic and yelling for Ashley to read the bottle to tell me what to do in case of skin contact and she reads: ALWAYS wear gloves while using this product.  (Now you tell me).  So I have her call my brother-in-law, Jim, who uses Gorilla Glue for his woodworking projects to get advice.  I know Jim will laugh at me and never let me live it down but I'm desperate!  So the phone is held up to my ear as my hands are now being molded together and I hear Jim (trying not to laugh) tell me to try mineral spirits.  But alas there's no mineral spirits in the house and I've got to DO SOMETHING NOW!!!  So a very patient and exasperated Andy enters the scene and after reviewing the situation calmly Googles "What to do when your crazy Mother-in-law glues her hands together with Gorilla Glue" and  instantly comes up with a solution of baby oil mixed with an abrasive cleaner, which thankfully works beautifully.  What did we ever do without Google?  But the adventure isn't over.  Because in the car on the way to a restaurant I realize I still have Gorilla Glue under my fingernails and I begin to gnaw it out with my teeth and to my horror I realize a piece of it has gotten stuck in my throat and is beginning to make my throat  burn and swell.  Now worrying that I might asphyxiate and die of anaphylactic shock I admit my stupidity to Ashley and Andy.  Andy's sigh tells me that this must be reason #121 why he's ready for his Mother-in-law to go home as Ashley begin's Googling " What to do when your Mother is stupid enough to actually ingest a particle of Gorilla Glue".  In the meantime I'm imagining the moisture in my throat beginning to swell the tiny particle to the size of a bowling ball till my airway is completely shut off.  I try to stay calm and think pleasant thoughts but the burning in my throat is making me desperate for a drink of water to wash it away and I'm thinking will We EVER get there, will we EVER be seated, will we EVER get served till I can FINALLY get a glass of water and wash the offending piece away. 
Later that night, after my throat had stopped burning and my hands were only mildly stiff, I was once again finding comfort in holding little Eden and rocking her to sleep.  She was fighting it, squirming in my arms, kicking her feet, trying desparately to keep those big beautiful blue eyes open when Ashley walked through the door.  At the sight of her Mommy she practically leapt out of my arms lunging toward her comforter.  At that moment no amount of rocking, singing and cuddling would suffice.  What Eden craved was her Mommy and the milk she could provide.  That night she craved to be sweetly nursed to sleep.  Nothing else would do. I know how it feels to crave, to desperately need something and need it NOW.  How often do I try to feed that craving with the wrong things...another piece of chocolate cake, a day of shopping for more stuff I don't need...another night of flipping through the tv channels finding nothing worth watching...when the only thing that truly satisfies is a stronger spiritual relationship with my Lord.  What do I crave?
" Like newborn babies, crave spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good."  1 Peter 2:2, 3.

Committed or Crazy?

Last week Keith and I  laced up our walking shoes, put on our heavy coats and headed for the door of my in-laws house.  When we told my father-in-law we'd be back in 32 minutes after we completed our walk he said "You're going for a walk at 9:00 at night in a cold rain?  You're either committed or CRAZY, I'm not sure which!"  Actually, I'm not sure either.  About a month ago when Keith was dealing with some high blood pressure issues he suggested that rather than relying on medication he should make some lifestyle changes including cutting back on salt, switching to only decaf coffee, taking garlic tablets (seems garlic is for more than just warding off vampires) and walking three times a week.  I eagerly jumped at the last suggestion (and now ask myself WHY?).  You see, Keith is a VERY committed person.  He is very stubborn and hard to talk into things, but once he makes it HIS decision and he commits to it, he sticks to it...NO MATTER WHAT. For the 34+ years that we've been married Keith has been committed to running 3 times per week...well at least he used to run, now it's more of a jog and he would say it's more of a wobble.  For years I've tried to tell him that he needs to give his old joints a break and start walking instead of running.  My ulterior motive was that I knew I really needed to walk (no way could I start running!) but didn't have enough motivation to do it on my own so I needed him to be my walking partner.  But he'd always say that he wanted to keep up his running and that was enough for him.  So when he said a month ago that he was ready to start walking the 3 days a week that he didn't run (taking Sundays off) I was thrilled.  He made me agree that we were committing to a minimum of 32 minutes for 3 days a week no matter what the weather, no matter what the day or time of day, NO MATTER WHAT.  The only problem with that is our crazy travelling schedule has caused us to walk at the most inconvenient times in the craziest weather and in the wierdest places.  We have walked as late as midnight at the end of a ten-hour drive.  We've walked in cold wind, blowing rain and total darkness.  We've walked in several well-lit parking lots (when the streets seemed a little scary), on golf courses, in fields, and inside three different Wal-Marts in Alabama, Arkansas and Missouri.  The Wal-Marts proved to be most challenging... though we stayed warm and dry we had to power walk quickly while avoiding shoppers, stockboys, the urge to stop and shop, and the wary store managers as they began to trail us!  But we've done it!  For four weeks we've stuck to our committment and walked at least 32 minutes for 3 times each week. That's over 384 minutes of time that we've spent walking and talking together.  And even though it's always been a challenge to carve out the time I find myself throwing those walking shoes into the suitcase each week and eagerly anticipating the next time we can walk together again.  It feels good to know we can make a committment and stick to it NO MATTER WHAT.  So you tell me...is that COMMITTED or CRAZY?

Jonquils in January

Up on the hill behind my house is a row of the most beautiful bright yellow jonquils in full bloom...AMAZING! What's so unusual about that?  Well these flowers that I planted about 19 years ago used to greet me right around Easter.  When I saw that first bright bloom beckoning me to the window I knew that a long dreary winter was ending and Spring was just around the corner.  But every year they seem to bloom earlier and earlier.  First it was March, then February, and now when it's still January in Tennessee, they are in full bloom against the otherwise dreary horizon of dead grass, bare branches and grey skies.  What an unexpected surprise!  Call it "global warming" if you want but I think it's God's way of delighting us in the unexpected blessing just when we need it the most.  It's like a long-lost friend popping up on Facebook and reconnecting that neglected friendship.  Just last week during our stay in Arkansas we were able to reconnect with two different couples who had been our "besties" when we left school for our first work in Missouri.  Being young and so far away from home these couples became like family.  But after several moves, many years and a few more kids we had grown distant.  When we reconnected last week it was such an unexpected pleasure and with our friendships rekindled we've promised to stay in touch forever!  Last November our family was facing one of our darkest days when my sweet father-in-law nearly left this life and the doctor came into his room in CCU to tell us that his chances of recovery were slim.  Less than 24 hours later to our surprise Ashley had flown across country with our 2-month-old baby granddaughter to be with their Papa.  Having that unexpected week-long visit with Ashley and Eden was the one bright spot that got us through the dark days.  As Ben got stonger and was able to hold his great-granddaughter for the first time I thought about the scripture in Ecclesiastes that says "To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven." Sometimes God gives us unexpected blessings out of season, like jonquils in January!

There's nothing quite as sweet as a little baby's feet.

"There's nothing quite as pure and sweet
As the scent and feel of a baby's feet."

Many years ago while I was enjoying the wonder of my newborn baby girl I got a call that my dear friend Jewel wanted to see me and my baby.  Jewel was like another mother to me, an elder's wife in the church, a gracious sweet lady, a mentor, and Jewel was dying of cancer.  Her hospice nurse called me with this one last request so of course I was both sad and delighted to go.  I dressed my baby girl in her prettiest dress and carefully placed the soft leather and satin booties on her feet that had been a gift from Jewel.  When I walked in my friend's room she reached out from her bed to hold my bundle of joy and made what I thought was an odd request:  Take off her shoes so I can see her feet.  So I took off the shoes to reveal two tiny, perfectly pink, satiny soft baby's feet.  Jewel held those feet up to her own pale, dry, wrinkled face and wet them with her tears as she said, "There's nothing quite as pure and sweet as the scent and feel of a baby's feet."  I will forever hold that picture in my mind.  I kept the little leather and satin booties and recently gave them to my own newborn grandbaby to wear.  I thought again back to that day recently when I was playing with four-month old Eden Claire.  I was playing pat-a-cake with her little bare feet and marveling at her flexibility as I held her toes up to her nose.  To her delight (and mine) she grasped her big toe and put it in her mouth to suck on!  And I thought of my friend, Jewel and what she said.
What is it about a baby's feet that is so special?  I was thinking of this the other night as I soaked in the tub and scrubbed my own tired, callused feet.  No matter how hard I scrub them, they still are rough and dry and will never be pretty and pink like the soles of those that have never touched the floor, never walked the miles that mine have walked.  It reminds me of my soul, which was once pure and clean, untouched by the world, which eventually became stained by sin.  Then through baptism and Jesus' blood it was washed clean again, pure and soft as baby's feet.  It reminds me more of my old heart, which through years of experiencing life has become tougher, not as soft as it once had been.
Last weekend I was at a youth rally in Arkansas at which Keith spoke four different times.  It had been a while since I had been to a youth rally and I was amazed at the number of public responses.  At each event their were multitudes of teenagers coming down the aisle in tears to ask for prayer, rededicate their lives to God, or make public their faith in Jesus and desire to obey Him in baptism.  Later as I related these responses to an older adult they expressed their alarm that these kids may have responded "out of emotion" or from "peer pressure"  and I thought how sad it is that as adults we become afraid to be touched by our emotions.  I hoped that those young people who responded will always feel influenced by their Christian friends around them to do the right thing rather than respond to the evil peer pressures of the world.  I could relate to the song that we sang at the close of that youth rally:

My eyes are dry, my faith is old.  My heart is hard, my prayers are cold
And I know how I ought to be, alive to You and dead to me.
So what can be done for an old heart like mine?  Soften it up with oil and wine.
The oil is You, Your spirit of love.  Please wash me anew in the wine of Your love.

I hope my heart and soul can stay as soft as Eden Claire's soles.