Good morning, dear ones.
Lots of work pressure has once again interfered with my devotional productions. But I also squeezed in one fishing trip on May 5. I’ll stick on a photo.
Speaking of photos, I’m also attaching a photo of a wildflower which a friend of mine says is called a PSEUDO SOLOMON SEAL. I pass that along because if you have opportunity to find them and place some in a vase on your table, I doubt you will ever find a more fragrant wildflower.
In lieu of a devotional composition, I’m simply going to stick on below a composition I wrote this morning to my son Andy—since today, on the other side of the dateline where he was born, this is his true birthdate. That was May 18, 1975, now allowing him to tally 43 years. Wow! Time sure flies!
Blessings on your day. Love and prayers—Ray.
Good morning, Andy.
Even though I do a lot of forgetting, I still do some remembering. It’s fun to reminisce on this day 43 years ago. Of course, this day was actually the 18th where we were located in the Marshall Islands at the time on the other side of the dateline. The day before was most difficult with Becki being very much pregnant—and very much overdue—having had her water break 5 days previous. It was getting tense. Dr. Swain warned that infection could set in and really do some serious damage—suggesting that a forced delivery may be the better part of wisdom. On the night of the 17th, while laying in bed, feeling overwhelmed with the seriousness and complexity of this situation, we prayed together again—this time with a more specific if-not-this—then-this kind of prayer—that is, if a natural birthing does not begin to take place tonight, then we would submit to the un-natural option in the morning. Within an hour the contractions began—and we high-tailed it into Rita (at the other end of the island, nearly 30 miles away) using the borrowed car of one of the teachers at CBI (Jill Clark). We checked in at the crude hospital around midnight. They apparently called Dr. Swain to wake him, and he was soon at the hospital. He checked Becki out. He figured that the dilation was not advanced enough to prompt immediate action. He hung around awhile—and finally said he was going back to bed and the hospital staff could call him if there was any progress changes. He was on his way out the door when Becki rolled over in a way that seemed to cause and eruption. Things happened pretty fast from that point. The intensity of her labor was now so acute that they didn’t even have time to get her into the delivery room—nor even get a sheet on the bed that Becki flopped on—while frantically stripping off her clothes—with no concern whatsoever for modesty. Nor did Dr. Swain even have time to get his gloves on. He may have got one on. He too couldn’t believe how fast things were developing! That little being wanted out—and he wanted out now! It all happened right there on that blue-striped sheetless mattress. I was there for the whole ordeal! I saw the whole thing! But I had never seen a real birthing before. My preconceived visualizations of pretty pink babies did not prepare me for the sight of what I saw Dr. Swain pull from the body of that writhing woman! It was limp and bluish—kind of like a wet and twisted garment extracted from the washing machine—and didn’t even look like anything living. But soon that ugly mess proved to be very much alive! And my emotions were suddenly transformed by an explosion of marvel and thanksgiving and praise to my Maker—to YOUR MAKER! I cried. Yup! That was YOU! This is how I remember your first appearance.
I’ve had reason to give some serious thought to the ominous statement Jesus made concerning Judas Iscariot, who, of course, was the one to betray Jesus in a way that led to His arrest, torture, and crucifixion. “The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born” (Matthew 26:24, NIV). Wow! That’s a heavy thought—“better for him if he had not been born.” Without getting all tangled up in sorting out every detail of that statement, I’m struck with the implications it carries not just toward Judas, but toward all who fail to embrace Christ as their ONLY hope of fulfillment in life with the added benefit of eternal life. After all, “He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life” (1 John 5:12, NIV). This overview of Gospel Truth continues to inspire my deepest heart-level prayer for not just you, but for every member of my family—that none would miss out on this incredible gift—that none would forfeit the divine purpose for their being born—that all who have been given life would find LIFE.
I tell people often that, “Its’ not my fault I’m still here.” I know enough about your life, Andy, to know that’s true of you too—with your history of more than a couple close calls. In conclusion, I continue to pray that the divine purpose for your being born will be profoundly fulfilled in your passionate devotion to your Maker through Christ as Savior and Lord.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
Love—your Dad.