THE GIFT

I held Daddy's hand and listened as his breaths came at eighteen-second intervals. A gasp followed by a silence during which all the family would hold our breath.

After an extended silence, the hospice nurse leaned in to listen for a heartbeat. She nodded her head to let us know she thought he was gone.

My eyes, however, were fastened on the weak pulse in his neck, and knowing he only had a second or two more, when the nurse stepped back to note the time of death, I stepped up and placed my hand over that place. Resting my face next to his, I cradled his head with my free hand.

I can still feel the warmth of his cheek against mine and the gentle throb of life ebbing under my hand. If I concentrate, I can smell the scent of his hair and clothes. Those sensations may fade with time, but the thing that I will not, cannot ever forget, is his final and unexpected gasp of breath that literally drew my own breath into his body...and the stillness under the palm of my hand.

THE GARDENER

"They see him and mistake him for the gardener, because they have no expectation of his return." This is a line of an email Bible study from my friend and former Pastor (kenraggio.com) that was in my inbox this morning. It triggered a memory from years ago of another church, another time, another life.

It was our church's second night in revival with an evangelist that had never been with us before this series of meetings and I was the hostess in charge of greeting people at the door. I was really anticipating this service because the previous night I had kept the nursery and had been relegated to catching occasional glimpses on the 12" by 12" black and white monitor and hearing snippets of preaching over multiple babies' crying.

A very distinguished looking visitor comes through the door and I want to make a good impression on him. After all, he just might be looking for a church. Very confidently, I extend my hand, grasp his in a warm handshake and with what I hope is a welcoming smile say, "Welcome to Bible Tabernacle. Have you visited with us before?"

I'm sure that I do not have the words to adequately describe the look on the gentleman's face, but it did convince me that what he said and what he wanted to say were two very different things. With his hand still being pumped eagerly in mine and a most solemn look on his face, he replied in a deep baritone, "I am Brother Grimsley. I was here last night."

The thing that happened next really is a moment frozen in time for me. The infusion of heat that spread from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet was quickly doused by the glacial dread of knowledge that I had failed to recognize our evangelist. I'm certain that I resembled a soul being wrenched spasmodically between two worlds as I sputtered and stuttered through my attempt to explain where I had been the previous night.

With my hand now caged firmly in his, much like a dove on its way to the altar of sacrifice, Brother Grimsley calmly looks me in the eye and says, "It's alright, Sister. They even mistook Jesus for the gardener."

Much to my discomfort, Brother Grimsley has derived much wicked pleasure out of introducing himself from the pulpit as "Brother Gardener" when preaching for us through the years. We have laughed together many times over my blunder. But I wonder...

How many people will miss Jesus' return because they have no expectation of such an occurance. Or perhaps on a more personal level...how many of us fail to see Jesus working in our daily lives because we are so busy doing for Him?

Do YOU ever mistake Jesus for the gardener?

THE DAY MY DAD CAME FOR LUNCH

One day this week, my dad showed up at my office unexpectedly. I had been busy working all morning and now it was lunchtime. I asked him if he had eaten; I was ravenous and was hoping that we could visit over lunch. He had already eaten, so I tried to push my thoughts of juicy burgers into the background of my mind while I smiled and nodded. After all, I don't see my dad as often as I should. Then something wonderful happened. Daddy says, "Honey, have you all eaten yet? I've already eaten, but I thought I might go with you and have a cup of coffee or a piece of pie."

HALLELUJAH! I grabbed my purse, threw on my coat and said over my shoulder, "You can ride with us."

We sat down at the newest fast food place in town and enjoyed some great burgers. (Daddy must have felt like living on the edge that day because he went all out with a strawberry shake:) We visited and remembered and imagined and each of us left feeling a little closer than an hour before.

That day reminded me of my Heavenly Father. I don't always make time for Him as I should, yet He still stops by to say hello and assure me of His love. He is willing to go with me throughout my day, even though He has need of nothing from me. To my Heavenly Father, time spent with me is like indulging in a steaming cup of coffee on a cold day or a piece of sweet, rich caramel pie or a thick, delicious milkshake. He loves me...what can I say?