A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 2} ~ the wordless book, a flute and a song

Our God is far greater than words can  make known.

Exalted and holy, He reigns on His throne.

In infinite splendor, He rules over all.

Yet He feeds the poor sparrow and He knows when they fall.

His power is great and will ever endure.

His wisdom is peaceable, gentle and pure.

But greater than all these glories I see

Is the glorious promise

That He cares for me.

The earth and the heav'ns are the work of His hands.

And billions of angels obey His commands.

He guides the great galaxies spinning through space.

Yet He gave us His Son as the gift of His grace.

His power is great and will ever endure.

His wisdom is peaceable, gentle and pure.

But greater than all these glories I see

Is the glorious promise

That He cares for me.

One of the things I figured I'd do as I write this "Gentleness Grand Prix," was to share about some of the women in my life who've modeled and even mentored me in one or more aspect of gentleness. This is by no means an exhaustive list- how could I even hope to include all of the women who've impacted my life - and others have touched me and challenged me in other areas. For this time, however, I want to focus on this very-evasive-to-me- fruit if gentleness.

It seems like I've known that song written above for forever. I couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 years old when I first heard "He Cares for Me." I have no idea who wrote it or when. I've never heard it since - unless it was myself humming or softly singing it as a lullaby to my babies and sick ones. But the memory of those words, a simple, but lovely tune, the hauntingly beautiful flute accompaniment that went along with it, and the gal who played that flute is seared on my soul.

I associate a particular woman, a very dear and important lady to  me, so totally with this song. I don't know if she has any idea of the impact she had on my life, but it was she who indirectly led me to the Lord. She was part of a ministry team that traveled performing music concerts and then talking and sharing with listeners afterwards. I really liked and admired this gal... she was pretty, she sang and played the flute both sweetly and beautifully - it was then that I decided the flute had to be the most beautiful sounding instrument ever... She didn't seem to mind if I tagged along and listened as she shared with people after the concert. Since my parents helped arrange and facilitate those concerts, over the period of a few years, I tagged along quite a bit.

It was after one of those concerts that I watched and listened as she explained the Gospel using a Wordless Book. That night, although I could never remember a time when I didn't love Jesus, I realized that loving Him wasn't enough. I had to ask Him to forgive me for my sins and to save me so that I could be with Him in Heaven some day. I pondered the story of that Wordless Book for awhile, before I prayed and asked Him to save me in the car that night, on the way home after the concert.

Our life paths only crossed a few more times, in real life, after that season of concerts, but I've never forgotten her. At first glance, some might have thought her timid - but what I saw radiating from her life was a kind and gentle spirit, a demeanor that welcomed a little child. She patiently responded to that little girl and later, many of her teenage girl letters posted and delivered. She came out for a short visit right after my little brother was born - that visit thrilled my heart. She finally achieved her goal of becoming a missionary linguist, working in Liberia with her husband and family - accepting with grace the agony of sending young children off to boarding school, of living with malaria and other deadly illness, of going without so that some time,  a new language group, would no longer have to... They would be able to read the Bible in their heart language. 

When I was a student at Penn State University, their family was on furlough (and then on hold due to violence and war taking place in Liberia at that time) - and they welcomed me into their home on several different weekend occasions, sharing with me their passion and love of missions, of God's Word and of West Africa. I tried some new things with them that today are practices well incorporated into my family's life: peanut butter on pancakes, butter on the counter instead of always in the refrigerator so it is always soft spread, and soaking my dish cloths and sponges in bleach water overnight - just to name a few.

The Lord opened the door for them to return to West Africa as the people group with whom they'd been working fled the country of Liberia, and crossed the border into Ivory Coast; she spent several years with her family there until once again, civil war intervened and they had to return to the States. Today, they are grandparents, but she and her husband are still active in ministry, training young missionaries wanting to venture out, hoping to make God's Word accessible - and at least two of their four children are serving on the mission field.

As I've read her prayer letters over the years, I've been touched by the gentle acceptance and willingness to move on to God's next place that she and her family have lived so visibly. I don't know if her life has been all she once imagined it might be - but she exudes contentment with the places God has taken her, the things He has called and allowed her to do, and particularly, living completely in the moment of wherever He has her now.

I want that same sort of gentle acceptance of God's hand working in my life. 

I want the Lord to look at me some day and say, "Truly, your adorning has been hidden the person of the heart, the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit. In my sight, this is an exquisitely precious, grand prize."

Entering a 31 Day Grand Prix {day 1}