Lillie Ammann's Blog, page 23

Clergy Appreciation Day

October is Clergy Appreciation Month, and the second Sunday in October (today) is Clergy Appreciation Day.

It’s easy to take our clergy for granted. We forget that they are ordinary people just like us except they have a different call on their lives. All of us Christians are called to serve God in our daily lives, regardless of what our vocation is. But the vocation of the clergy is to serve God and His people. I suspect serving His people is the harder job.

We may be unwilling to serve in church or we may be strong-willed volunteers wanting our own way. We may be impatient, often tardy, sometimes missing, too wrapped up in our own lives to even notice, much less respond to, the needs of others. Yet we expect our pastors and priests to carry out their jobs flawlessly, to appreciate our meager efforts when we volunteer, to go along with our plans when we serve, and to be patient and kind and understanding in all situations.

Even when we sincerely appreciate our clergy, we often fail to demonstrate our appreciation. So today on Clergy Appreciation Day, I want to publicly to acknowledge and thank priests who mean a lot to me. Like laypeople, none of them is perfect. I don’t agree with any one of them all the time. Yet each one of them serves the Lord and his fellow believers with strong faith and deep commitment that I admire and appreciate.

Bishop Felix Orji, Bishop of the Diocese of the West and Missionary Bishop of Convocation of Anglicans in North America Father Isaac Rehberg, Rector of All Saints Anglican ChurchFather Barry Kowald, Assisting Priest at All Saints Anglican Church and Priest and Church Planter at St. Benedict Anglican ChurchFather Marcus Tinajero, Assisting Priest at All Saints Anglican Church

Other priests who have ministered to me are Father Chip Harper, Retired Anglo-Catholic priest who was my parish priest for many years and now has a virtual parish on Facebook, and Father Jerry Kramer, who with his wife Stacy serves as a missionary in a very dangerous area. I highly recommend support for their mission, Love for the Least.

To them I say, thank you for answering God’s call on your life. Thank you for loving the Lord with all Your heart, mind, soul, and strength and for loving your neighbor as yourself. Thank you for what you do and have done for the Kingdom of God. Know that your commitment is noticed and appreciated. Know that you are appreciated far more than you know. When you are discouraged, realize that you are loved. When you are weak, know that God’s strength is sufficient. When you feel overwhelmed, remember that with God, all things are possible.

We ask you, brothers, to respect those who labor among you and are over you in the Lord and admonish you, and to esteem them very highly in love because of their work. 

1 Thessalonians 5:12-13

Lord, bless and guide all ministers of your church, especially those who have ministered to us. Clothe them in righteousness and grant them wisdom. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Let the elders who rule well be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in preaching and teaching. 

1 Timothy 5:17

O LORD, our heavenly Father, whose blessed Son came not to be ministered unto, but to minister; We beseech thee to bless all who, following in his steps, give themselves to the service of their fellow men. Endue them with wisdom, patience, and courage to strengthen the weak and raise up those who fall; that, being inspired by thy love, they may worthily minister in thy Name to the suffering, the friendless, and the needy; for the sake of him who laid down his life for us, the same thy Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen. ~ 1928 Book of Common Prayer

Image: © Depositphotos.com/prudkov

Lost

I had a strange dream the other night. I was driving down a country road and my sisters were following me in a car behind mine. We arrived in the place that in dream was the town of Helotes, but it was on the opposite side of San Antonio from the real Helotes and looked nothing like it. My sisters and I went inside a building for a meeting of the Helotes Chamber of Commerce (which I’ve never heard of before). However, I decided I didn’t want to attend the meeting and left. When I got outside, I realized I didn’t have my purse or car keys, so I figured I would just walk home. I haven’t been able to walk much for many years, but I often dream of walking long distances.

I started walking along the side of the highway in afternoon drive time traffic. I walked and walked and walked and finally the road led into a hotel on a floor filled with guest rooms—no public areas and no signage. I saw a lady getting into the elevator and realized elevator access was only by key, so I asked if I could join her. I was going to throw myself on the mercy of someone at the front desk of the hotel to beg them to let me make a phone call either to my sisters or to my husband (who has been dead seven years) to come pick me up.

Then I woke up.

But the dream reminded me of a time I really was lost. It was the first trip I took after my stroke. I was traveling with my friend Grace Anne to a romance writers conference in New York City. Grace Anne flew from Austin, and I flew from San Antonio. We met in Atlanta and boarded our plane. I rode my motorized scooter to the door of the plane and walked to my seat, holding on the backs of the seats along the way. The scooter was then loaded in the cargo section and would be returned to me upon arrival at our destination.

After we boarded, the pilot announced that there would be a delay because the landing gear wasn’t working. But since it would take only a short while to fix it, we would stay on the plane so we could depart as soon as the repair was complete. After an hour, the pilot made another announcement: the problem couldn’t be repaired. All tickets had been cancelled. Passengers had to go to ticket counter and book another flight. Since I had to wait for someone to bring a wheelchair, I was the last passenger off the plane. Grace Anne had gone ahead to rebook us.

However, when we got into the terminal, an agent told the person pushing me that they had already rebooked my flight. I just needed to pick up my ticket at the counter. When I told them I was traveling with a friend, they rebooked Grace Anne on the same flight and pulled her from the long line at the other counter where everyone else was trying to reschedule. They asked if I could walk a few steps as the gate for the new flight was across the tarmac. Someone would drive us in a car, but I would have to walk from the car to the elevator lobby to take the elevator to the upper level. I could do that.

When the driver got us to the other side of the tarmac, they pulled away as soon as we closed the car door. We got inside to a tiny lobby that had an elevator and a flight of stairs and nothing else. There was a sign on the elevator: Out of Order. I leaned against the wall for support, while Grace Anne went up the stairs to find help. Soon the elevator descended. The technician inside said, “This isn’t working well enough to open it to the public, but I can get you upstairs.”

When we reached the next level, Grace Anne was nowhere in sight, but a skycap was waiting with a wheelchair. I asked to look for my friend, but the skycap said all flights were grounded because of weather, and other people were waiting for wheelchairs, so we had to go immediately.

Grace Anne was carrying my purse and ticket because I had a hard time just managing myself. So I gave the skycap the gate number that I remembered. She pushed me very fast through the terminal, all the while reminding that I needed to give her a tip. “I don’t have any money,” I said. “My friend has my purse, and you wouldn’t let me look for her. Without finding her, I can’t give you a tip.” She berated me for the whole trip, which was blessedly short because she was moving so fast. We got to a gate, I transferred from the wheelchair to a seat, and she took off to find someone who would give her a tip.

After several minutes, the agent called the flight. It was not my flight. I was at the wrong gate. I was sitting on the outside row of chairs facing the corridor, and I saw an agent walking up to the counter at the empty gate across from me. I spent every ounce of energy I had to walk across the corridor and lean on the counter. “You have to help me,” I said and explained the situation. She looked up the information on her terminal and called for a passenger cart to take me to the correct gate. Along the way, I saw Grace Anne and asked the driver to stop and pick her up.

We had each started the day early without breakfast, and by now, it was past lunchtime. However, the flight was scheduled to leave shortly so we didn’t risk taking time to find something to eat. Then the flight was delayed, over and over again. Each time we were promised it would be for only a short while, so we stayed there. I couldn’t have gone anywhere since there wasn’t a wheelchair in sight. So many flights were delayed and changed that lots of folks needed wheelchairs.

Finally we boarded. The flight itself was uneventful, but, of course, when we arrived about six hours late, the wheelchair van I had arranged to meet us to take us to the hotel was not there. I had to call the company for another van and wait until one was available. We were enroute from the airport to the hotel in afternoon rush hour, and looking down from the higher van to the traffic below was scary.

Finally we arrived at the hotel and checked in. We had ordered theater tickets as part of the conference package and should have picked them up at registration. But we were so late, registration was closed. I went to the room with the bellhop while Grace Anne searched for the tickets. Soon, she called me to say that she was at the theater and the tickets were at will-call. All I had to do was scoot over to the theater, which was two doors down from the hotel. I arrived, parked the scooter in a designated area, and walked down the aisle to our excellent seats near the front, holding onto seatbacks for support. We had barely sat down when the curtain rose on Les Miserables.

Three hours later, we headed back to the hotel. I told Grace Anne, “I know room service is outrageous here, but I can’t sit up for another minute. And I have to eat!” Neither of us had eaten anything all day. We could have gotten a fantastic steak at home for the price of the dinky little hamburger, but at that point, we were both so exhausted and hungry that we thought it was wonderful.

The next day, the conference started. I’ve documented that experience in a previous blog post.

In spite of the terrible trip and the difficulties with access at the conference, I was glad I went. I learned a lot and enjoyed meeting other writers, from beginners like me to well-known, bestselling authors.

And, in spite of dreaming I did that very thing, I also learned to hold on to my purse and important items like a plane ticket.

Image: © Depositphotos.com/AndrewLozovyi

National Book Month

October is National Book Month.

The month-long celebration focuses on the importance of reading, writing and literature. National Book Month is also a time to honor the country’s best books and authors.

National Today

I’m surprised that I don’t recall ever hearing of National Book Month before, even though it’s been around since 2003. As a passionate booklover, I’m always ready to celebrate books, reading, and writing.

The best way to celebrate National Book Month is to read books. I can give lots of good recommendations, starting with books I’ve edited or written. You’ll find 50 books listed and described here on my website, ranging from Christian devotionals to historical fiction to how-to guides to memoirs to narrative nonfiction to Christian living books. I’ve worked with some wonderful writers, and I’m confident you’ll find several books you’ll love.

Since I don’t watch TV or play sports or go to movies or concerts, I spend a lot of time reading. I read more than 350 books last year and am on track to read about the same this year, and I review every book I finish. Although I am currently behind on posting reviews, all the books I’ve read are listed and rated on Goodreads. Feel free to look over my book lists to find great books to read.

I read mostly ebooks and have since 1999 when the first e-reader became available. Through the years, I’ve used a variety of e-readers and am now on my third Kindle. The one I have now is an Oasis, though not the newest version, which is the

All-new Kindle Oasis - Now with adjustable warm light - 8 GB, Graphite (International Version)[image error].

There are many reasons I love reading ebooks. Here are a few of the major ones:

My vision is so poor that it’s difficult for me to read print, and I often have to use a magnifier if the book isn’t large print. With ebooks, I can adjust the font on my Kindle for comfortable reading regardless of what the original font was. It’s easier for me to hold my Kindle without pain than to try to hold a print book open to read. People with arthritis, fibromyalgia, and other conditions causing chronic pain appreciate this. I enjoy being able to carry so many books at one time. Right now, there are more than 750 unread books on my Kindle, so I have lots of choices of what to read next whenever I finish a book. It’s easy to sort and find books. I assign books to collections, so I can scroll through a list of titles based on the genre I want to read. Also I can search for titles, and the search covers the books in my Kindle and on my bookshelf in my Amazon account.I can search, highlight, and bookmark text; makes notes; share my notes and highlights with other readers; and look up words in the dictionary or in Wikipedia as I’m reading. Ebooks cost less than print books, an important consideration for someone who reads almost a book a day. I get lots of my ebooks for free—some from authors and publishers requesting reviews but others from special promotions, so my entertainment costs me very little.

That’s not to say I don’t love print books. If I were wealthy, I would love to have a huge library with a collection of leather-bound first editions. I like the feel and smell of old and new books, but those are aesthetic considerations. For pure reading enjoyment, give me an ebook any day.

Regardless of what genre you like to read and whether you prefer print or electronic books, I hope you get half as much pleasure from reading as I do.

Happy National Book Month!

Seven Years Ago…

Seven years ago today, I buried the love of my life, my best friend, my husband of forty-five years. Usually, I share memories of Jack on the anniversary of his death, September 23. But this year, I was very busy that day.

My son William and his wife Kathy were here for a visit—the first time William had been home in more than thirty years! We visited Jack’s grave, the first time William had been. It was a moving experience for all of us.

I don’t go to the cemetery often, as I know Jack’s not there. In fact, I am more comfortable “talking” to him in the home we shared for our entire married life. However, I usually visit the grave on his birthday, our anniversary, and the anniversary of his death. Having William with me on this visit made it even more special.

Jack’s funeral service was beautiful, and I was touched by the family and friends who came to honor his memory. One moment just before the service started got everyone’s attention and brought a smile to many faces. Having graduated from Texas A&M sixty years before, Jack was an avid Texas Aggie. In fact, in the latter years of his life, he always wore an Aggie t-shirt. I said we had to bury him in an A&M t-shirt; otherwise God’s wouldn’t recognize him. A fellow Aggie from a later generation had the Aggie War Hymn as the ringtone on his phone. Apparently he had arranged for someone to call him at just the right time. Moments before the start of the funeral, the Aggie War Hymn sounded in the sanctuary. Jack would have loved it!

Like everything else, the homily was great. This is an excerpt from Jack Stories: Favorite Memories of Jack Jordan Ammann Jr:

A Texan in Whom Is No Guile

Paraphrased excerpts from Father Chip’s homily at the
funeral service

The last time I saw Jack was about ten days before he died. I said, “Jack, the time is coming for you to go home, and you need to pack your bags. Are you ready?”

Jack answered, “My bags are packed. I’m ready.”

Each one of us will have to stand before the Lord at the end of our life. If you can’t say as Jack did that your bags are packed and you’re ready, talk to me. We never know when our time will come, and we need to be ready all the time.

Jack reminded me of St. Bartholomew, also called Nathanael in the Bible. You might not agree with Jack, but you always knew where he stood. Like Jack, Nathanael said exactly what he thought. When Philip told Nathanael that they had found the Messiah—Jesus of Nazareth, Nathanael answered, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip took Nathanael to see Jesus, who greeted Nathanael by saying, “Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!” I can hear the Lord greeting Jack in Heaven: “Behold a Texan indeed, in whom is no guile!”

The Venerable Fr. C.B. “Chip” Harper…”Father Chip”
Rector, All Saints Anglican Church
Priest/fellow Aggie

(Father Chip has since retired)

Stop Alzheimer’s

September 21 is World Alzheimer’s Day. a day set apart by organizations around the world to raise awareness of Alzheimer’s and other dementias. I have been caregiver for two Alzheimer’s patients—my father and my husband—and I have seen two other family members—my grandfather when I was a preteen and an aunt when I was an adult—suffer with the disease. So I know how devastating this disease can be to the patients and their families.

You would think that after being one of several caregivers for my father for several years, I would have recognized the signs early in my husband’s disease. However, that was not the case. My father’s first symptoms were memory loss and confusion. My husband’s first symptoms were personality changes. A happy, gregarious charmer turned into a sullen, withdrawn loner. I knew something was terribly wrong but had no idea what it was until he started forgetting and getting confused.

One time when my sister was visiting, I told Jack we were going to order a pizza. He said, “I’ll go pick it up. I want to make a salad at the salad bar.” I went with him into the bedroom for him to put on his shoes. He tried to put his feet into the wrong shoes, upside down. He struggled to get the right foot into the toe of the left shoe. I switched the positions of the shoes and oriented them the right direction. He looked at me, then at the shoes, then back at me. “I don’t know if I can get pizza,” he said. “I might get confused and not know what to do.” Since I was expecting a client to drop something off I couldn’t leave, so I suggested he take Nancy with him. “No,” he answered. “I don’t want her to see me like this.” He did go alone to pick up the pizza, and he did return safely with it, albeit much later than expected. That was the last time he went anywhere alone. For the next year or so, I was with him constantly.

My father lived about seven years after diagnosis, and for the latter years of his life, he lay in bed in a care facility, unable to speak, hear, or see. He didn’t even acknowledge us when we went to visit and was totally unresponsive. The only reactions we saw from him were in the very last days of his life, which I describe in a post remembering him on Father’s Day a few years ago.

I shared about the relationship between Jack and Daddy, as well as something about their disease in a post on the sixth anniversary of Jack’s death.

My sister Nancy was so impacted by caring for our father that she returned to school for a degree in social work. She has spent two decades helping patients and their families cope with dementia. She is so patient and caring that she can calm agitated dementia sufferers when no one else can. Even when they are confused and lost, they feel the love and care she showers on them. Nancy has written a short little book with helpful advice for caregivers, especially those whose loved ones have been diagnosed recently. Not only does she give practical tips, but she gives encouragement and hope for overwhelmed family members. If you or someone you know has had a loved one diagnosed with Alzheimer’s or other dementia, I highly recommend Help! What Do I Do Now? Caring for Your Loved One with Alzheimer’s.

If you are caring for a family member with dementia, God bless you. If you have someone close to you who is a caregiver, learn how you can support them. If you are fortunate to have no experience with dementia, take the opportunity to learn about this disease.

Alzheimer’s disease is often called a family disease because of the chronic stress of watching a loved one slowly decline affects everyone. 5.7 million Americans are living with Alzheimer’s. Alzheimer’s disease is the sixth-leading cause of death in the United States and the only cause of death among the top 10 in the United States that cannot be prevented, cured or even slowed. With the increases in life spans and baby boomers coming of age, support for Alzheimer’s research is more critical to our families than ever.

Fisher Center for Alzheimer’s Research Foundation

Image: © Depositphotos.com/SSDN

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Selfishness vs. Compassion

Two seemingly unrelated incidents happened in the last few days that together made a big impact on me.

I got an email from my friend Vladimir in Haiti. Vladimir, in his 20s, has been caring for his younger brother, Shelton, since they lost their parents in the earthquake of 2010. Shelton was a very young child, and the brothers have lived on streets most of his life. Their one remaining relative was their grandmother, who lived far out in the country. I’ve seen a picture of her in her home, and it looked like a pile of rubble. Last week, the grandmother died. Vladimir and Shelton don’t have money for food, so there’s no way they can come up with $1500 to bury their grandmother with dignity and respect. If they can’t pay, the body will likely be tossed in a mass pauper’s grave, which to the brothers is like throwing their grandmother out like trash.

Although I regularly send money for food, I can’t come up with enough money to pay for the burial. After praying about it, I decided to set up a Facebook fundraiser. I will pay the Facebook fees and the fees to send the money to Haiti.

The next day, I had a photo taken for my church directory. The company takes the pictures and gives one photo and a directory to each household at no cost to the church. Members are offered other photos for purchase, which is how the company makes its money. The photographer, though seemingly too young to be a professional, was excellent. Although I rarely like any picture of myself, I liked several of the pictures from the session. I was prepared to buy four small pictures for my family until I heard the price.

How could I justify paying $55 for pictures of myself? Depending on how much is donated, that $55 might make the difference between having enough for the funeral or not. Saying “no” to the photos was an easy decision.

But how often do I make selfish choices without compassion for others? Although I am fairly frugal and have rather simple tastes, if I really want something, I usually figure a way to get it. Things I take for granted are luxuries for many people around the world. I can’t imagine being homeless and hungry. How can I pass by a beggar, assuming he is a lazy person or a substance abuser? How can I hear of people in need and not support nonprofit organizations that give them aid? How can I be so much more concerned about my own welfare than the welfare of others?

And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’

~Matthew 25:40 (ESV)

Lord God, open my eyes to the needs of others around me. Teach me to think more of others than of myself. Guide me to the people you want me to help and give me a heart of compassion, following the example of Jesus Christ, who came not to be served but to serve. In His name I pray. Amen.

If God is leading you to help Vladimir and Shelton, please contribute to the Facebook fundraiser or contact me privately. Thank you for your compassion.

Image: © Depositphotos.com/noltelourens

Never Forget 9/11

Eighteen years ago, on September 11, 2001, I was headed out the door for a job interview. My husband, Jack, was driving a school bus. He called me and told me that a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers in New York City. I thought it was sad, but I didn’t realize it would be a tragedy of such huge magnitude.

I met the man who was starting a new business in a coffee shop and discussed the opportunity. All around us, people were eating breakfast, drinking coffee, and carrying on mundane conversations. I am amazed that no one recognized what was going on. When I got home, I turned on the television and learned that it wasn’t an incompetent pilot who accidentally strayed into the wrong place and hit the tower. It was a well-planned-and-executed terrorist attack. Thousands of innocent people who were just going about their normal day died in the attack. Those of us who lived thousands of miles away mourned their loss even though we didn’t know any of them.

But as we mourned the deaths and destruction, we lauded our heroes. More than 400 emergency workers—firefighters, police officers, emergency medical technicans, and paramedics—gave their lives trying to save people in the destroyed buildings. In the last eighteen years, more than 200 other emergency workers have died from 9/11-related illnesses. Many more continue to suffer illnesses from their exposure to toxins and traumatic injury in their service on 9/11. The sacrifices of these noble heroes saved countless lives. As horrific as the tragedy was, it could have been even more terrible if these brave and selfless emergency workers did not risk their own lives to save others.

One of these heroes is Stephen Siller. He had just finished his shift as a firefighter and was on his way to play golf with his brothers. When he heard that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers, he returned to his squad for his gear and headed toward the tower. When he discovered that the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel was closed, he ran through the tunnel with sixty pounds of gear on his back. He joined his fellow firefighters and lost his life saving others.

Stephen had everything to live for; a great wife, five wonderful children, a devoted extended family, and friends. Stephen’s parents were lay Franciscans and he grew up under the guiding philosophy of St. Francis of Assisi, whose encouraging and inspirational phrase “while we have time, let us do good” were words that Stephen lived by. Stephen’s life and heroic death serve as a reminder to us all to live life to the fullest and to spend our time here on earth doing good – this is his legacy.

~ from Stephen’s Story on the website of the Tunnel to Towers Foundation

And heroes beget more heroes. Thirteen members of the latest class for new Fire Department of New York firefighters are children of 9/11 heroes. Four children from one family are now following in their hero father’s footsteps.

We will never forget 9/11. Let us honor the memories of those who died, care for those who survived by still suffer after-effects, and follow the examples of the heroes who make us all proud to be Americans.

Image: © Depositphotos.com/patrimonio

What If You Couldn’t Read?

I take reading so much for granted that the first thing that comes to mind when I imagine myself not being able to read is that I would miss out on all the great books I enjoy. Reading is my primary source of entertainment, and I read an average of a book a day. No television or movies or sports for me—give me a book, and I’m happy. Reading for pleasure is such as huge part of my life that I really can’t envision life without that joy.

But beyond pleasure, imagine what life would be like if you couldn’t read. You wouldn’t know what this blog post says, which wouldn’t be a great loss. But you couldn’t fill out a job application if you needed a job, and you wouldn’t even be able to do most jobs. You wouldn’t be able to make a grocery list or read a recipe or find an address. You could expose yourself to danger because you couldn’t read warning signs. You would miss out on the spiritual benefits of reading the Bible. You would not be able to improve your condition in life because you couldn’t do the most basic tasks.

According to UNESCO, that is the reality for 750 million adults, two-thirds of them women. September 8 each year is designated as International Literacy Day to raise awareness and advance literacy.

Since 1967, International Literacy Day (ILD) celebrations have taken place annually around the world to remind the public of the importance of literacy as a matter of dignity and human rights, and to advance the literacy agenda towards a more literate and sustainable society. Despite progress made, literacy challenges persist, and at the same time the demands for skills required for work, evolve rapidly. 

~ International Literacy Day, UNESCO

I thank God for the blessing of literacy and pray that those who don’t have it gain it.

Happy Labor Day

Labor Day was created to honor organized labor, but I like to recognize all laborers—union members and non-union members, white collar and blue collar, employees and contractors, paid and unpaid—anyone who works. Entry level workers and professionals, unpaid volunteers and high-paid executives, company staff members and freelance workers—all contribute to benefit society as well as themselves. On this Labor Day, thanks and honor to all. May God bless each one.

ALMIGHTY God, our heavenly Father, who declarest thy glory and showest forth thy handiwork in the heavens and in the earth; Deliver us, we beseech thee, in our several callings, from the service of mammon, that we may do the work which thou givest us to do, in truth, in beauty, and in righteousness, with singleness of heart as thy servants, and to the benefit of our fellow men; for the sake of him who came among us as one that serveth, thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. ~ 1928 Book of Common Prayer

Image: © Depositphotos.com/Rawpixel

Adoption Birth Certificate

My son and his wife are visiting this weekend, and in reminiscing before the visit, I thought about his birth certificate. The following is an excerpt from my devotional, Finding God in the Everyday.

After the adoption of our son was finalized in court, the
state issued him a new birth certificate. 
It showed Johnny being born to Jack and me (with my married name) in Los
Angeles, California, in March of 1966.

Jack and I didn’t meet until June of 1966 and weren’t
married until May of 1967. Neither of us had ever been to Los Angeles at the
time we adopted Johnny. Yet legally, because he was now our son, he had been
born to us as a married couple before we ever met in a place we had never been.

When we become followers of Christ and are led by the Holy
Spirit, we are children of God in the same way as Johnny is the child of Jack
and me—no different than if he had been born to us physically.

We can cry out to God, “Daddy!” and He will hear
us and answer. He is more loving than any human father.

Some people have never had a loving father on earth. Perhaps
their father died or was absent for some other reason. Maybe their father was
present but far from loving—neglectful or abusive. They may find it hard to
envision a loving father, and the reality is far better than they imagine.

Others, like myself, have been blessed with loving fathers
and think we know what a father should be. But God our Father far surpasses
anything we have experienced on earth.

Not only are we children of God, but we are also heirs along
with Jesus. We are inheritors of the Kingdom of God.

And we will be glorified with Christ, if we suffer with Him.
Jesus told us to “take up our cross and follow” Him. He didn’t
promise us an easy life free from trouble and tribulation. He told us we would
have to suffer—but our sufferings will never match His sufferings.

And Paul tells us that anything we suffer is minor compared
to the glory we can look forward to. Life on this fallen earth is merely a
prelude to a life with the Lord in His Kingdom.

For all who are being led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God. For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him. For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us. ~ Romans 8:14-18

Thank You, Heavenly Father, that You have adopted me as Your child and heir of Your Kingdom. Give me the strength to go through the sufferings I must endure in order to achieve the glory that awaits me. In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Image: © Depositphotos.com/mybaitshop