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Showing posts from March, 2016

The Place of the Skull

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There is a green hill far away, outside a city wall, Where the dear Lord was crucified, who died to save us all. We may not know, we cannot tell what pains he had to bear, But we believe it was for us He hung and suffered there. He died that we might be forgiven, He died to make us good, That we might go at last to heaven, saved by His precious blood. There was none other good enough to pay the price of sin. He only could unlock the gate of heaven and let us in. Oh, dearly, dearly has He loved! And we must love Him too, And trust in His redeeming blood, and try His works to do. Cecil Francis Alexander, 1818-1895 Click here to listen to this beautiful old hymn. The above hymn, simply called "There is a Green Hill," is one that I learned and memorized at a very young age. I sang it, every year, with the children I taught in Lutheran Kindergarten and preschool, because it tells the story so well. Yet, I've always thought that those first fe...

Out of My Comfort Zone

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It is human nature to avoid doing things that make us uncomfortable. Sometimes this is a good thing. The mere thought of hurting other people, or destroying someone else's property, should make each of us feel so uncomfortable that we refuse to to do it. But, sometimes, for one reason or another, the most uncomfortable things become necessary. I was terrified for an entire semester of my sophomore year in high school, when I had to stand in front of the whole class to give one speech after another. I became physically ill--sick to my stomach-- and my hands shook uncontrollably, but I did what was required anyway, not because I felt that it was important for me to learn public speaking skills, but because I was driven to excel in all of my school work. I forced myself to stand there and give each speech simply because I wanted an A. I don't like to find bugs in my house, and I certainly don't like to kill them myself, but I will dispose of a spider in Levi's room bec...

Who? Hoopie!

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Hoopie was my best friend. Really, when I lived on the farm, she was my only friend. When I played with my china tea set, behind the propane stove that heated the house, she was there to drink tea with me and listen to my ceaseless chattering. When it was time to trudge upstairs for my afternoon nap, Hoopie walked right beside me. When I was supposed to be asleep, she knelt beside me as I gazed longingly out the bedroom window. While Mom hung the laundry out on the clothesline in the yard, Hoopie joined me as we darted in and out and around the clothes billowing gently in the breeze. And, when Mom insisted that I was big enough to use the outhouse without her help, Hoopie went with me, adding a little extra security, even though I always kept the door open just a crack to let the sunshine in. Hoopie rode right next to me in the backseat of our blue Ford when we visited Grandma and Grandpa, or drove into town to go to church or buy some groceries, but she usually waited in the car whe...