Missing Eyeglasses

Yesterday my daughter called and asked if her eyeglasses were still on the dining room table where she left them earlier in the day, when she was visiting here. I remember her distinctly putting them there, so we were both mystified when they showed up missing again from the table.

The first place I looked this time was on Dean's face. (See August 2012 "Connecting the Dots".) He was sporting thin-wired glasses, but they were bifocals, so we deemed him innocent this time. Then I checked the floor under the table and by the computer, but all were empty of anyone's glasses. By now, I was feeling innocent myself. The eyeglasses were evidently somewhere besides my house.

Then this morning as my nephew and I were about to walk out the door by the dining room table to leave for his work, he almost stepped on a pair of wire-framed glasses on the floor. They were invisible, lying on my dark-patterned carpet. It was fortunate that they didn't get crushed underfoot. Somehow they must have gotten knocked off the table and onto the floor, which proved to be a perfect hiding place for them.

God has promised to be a hiding place for us. When we get knocked around by life's trials, when trouble is looking for us, and when the pressures of life are about to crush us, God conceals us protectively amidst the pattern of His will. Seek His will and it will sustain you and lift you up in the end.

That Grand Reunion

It's been a year and a half since I lost both my parents to cancer. So many family milestones they've missed. Some good, some not-so-good. They both live on in our memories though. And also in the values and spiritual legacy they left for us.

I still have boxes of their papers, etc. to sort through, but just don't have the heart for it yet. Maybe someday when I'm in a real cleaning frenzy, I'll tackle it again. For now, I have two pieces of furniture that are daily reminders of their love and influence.

One, the dining room hutch, was my mom's pride and glory. It matches the table that she gave me several years ago when Dad took over her dining room and needed to set up his computer. She loved this dining room set and when I think about it, it's the first nice one she had. After forty years of marriage, you can understand her pride and joy in it. She hated to separate the set, but now they are together in my home. So, that's my reminder of Mom.

The computer desk is not an expensive one, but Dad loved his computers and the way they let him stay connected to his loved ones. It was in the only room in the house that Mom turned over to him for all his collections. I think of all the hours I spent emailing, then messaging, and finally video-chatting with Dad in his last years.

I can't bring them back, but so long as I have their memory, even without the physical reminders, I am blessed. They are resting in the grave until our grand family reunion in the sky!