The Best Necklace in the Whole World

I was eleven years old, and my mission in life was to by my mother the best birthday gift possible.  Her birthday was coming up, and I was desperate.  My grandparents took me to a shopping mall in Houston, and I was determined that I would not leave empty handed.  There had to be something in one of the many stores.  I had a whopping $15 in my pocket, and I was ready to do a little retail damage.

As we went into one of the many stores that night, there was something that caught my eye.  I saw a bracelet that shined like I had never seen anything shine in my life.  I walked over to look at this incredible work of art.  Surely it was way too far out of my league.  I was shocked to learn that it only cost $12.  At eleven years old, I wasn’t aware that rhinestones were not the same as diamonds.  The necklace was simply a beautiful piece of jewelry and that it was just what I wanted to give to my mother.

I eagerly asked the salesman to wrap up my trinket and was excited that my mom would wear it soon.  A feeling of pride swept over me as I paid for the rhinestone necklace.  This gift was my idea.  My mom would wear the best jewelry that the store had to offer (or so I thought).

When it came time to open the box, my mother immediately placed the jewelry around her neck and proclaimed it to be the most beautiful gift that she had ever received.  I thought she looked like a queen.  It was even better than I expected.  I was very happy with myself, for I gave my mother the best necklace in the whole world!

As the years went by my mom would talk about her special present and smile.  I was a little embarrassed as I reflected on my younger self. I know that as an adult, my childhood self did not know the difference between fake jewelry and the real thing.  All I knew is that my mom deserved the best that I could give.

Five years ago, almost to the day, my mother died.  I still think of her and miss her.  I am thankful for the friendship that we forged in my adult years.  Not long after she died my sister and I began the arduous task of sorting through her things.  I stumbled upon a jewelry box and opened the top.  In the box was a beautiful diamond and right next to the amazing stone was a little bag.  I unfastened the top of the bag and to my amazement, the little rhinestone necklace that I bought so many years ago fell onto the table.

I immediately teared up as I remembered that brave little boy, eager to give the best that he had so that his mother would smile.  All of the sudden the costume jewelry increased in value and surpassed that big old diamond.  My necklace contained all of the love that an eleven-year-old heart could muster.  Nothing is more priceless than the intention of the heart.

Today I am grateful as I remember my mother this week, and the legacy that she gave to me.  I honor her memory every day of my life, as I hope to be the best husband, father, brother, friend, pastor, and the person that I can be.  I believe that she is with me each and every day and that her memory continues in love shared with those in need of hope and renewal.  Praise God for Ruby Jensen, and her spirit of compassion and joy.

 

A Time to Remember

As I prepare for All Soul’s Sunday, I remember the incredible men and women that left a lasting legacy on my heart.  I must admit that the Service of Remembrance is one of the most sacred of the church year.  There is a feeling of comfort and holiness as we invite our brothers and sisters in the faith to join voices in giving thanks for the many saints that went before us.  We thank them for their teachings, for their presence in our lives.  We are better because they lived.

One of the many men who had a profound impact on my life was my grandfather.  Edwin Lance Jensen lived a life that many would consider remarkable.  He survived the Great Depression, the early loss of his mother, homelessness, a world war, and the loss of a child.  I knew him for 18 years.  Unfortunately, he died at the young age of 60.

My grandfather was the most significant male role model that I had growing up.  I learned patience, perseverance, and endurance.  This tough talking, rough around the edges kind of man took the time to teach me the many life lessons that I needed to know.  I look back and still consider him one, if not the most intelligent man that I ever met.

One of my fondest memories of him was an event that happened during my senior year of high school.  I prepared to leave for school when all of the sudden I heard a thunderous crash right outside my house.  A lady hit my parked car.  My grandfather ran outside, all 6’4″ and 300 pounds of him to check on the person who was involved in the wreck. Making sure she was safe, he invited her in to have some coffee while we handled the day to day stuff involving my car.  I like to think that a mechanic fixed the car, and the lady found peace, all because of my grandfather’s kindness.

Many years after Edwin’s death, I was in an old bookstore sorting through different titles that caught my eye.  One of them was about the presence of angels.  I looked inside of the book and the question, “How do we know that we are in the company of angels?” peeked my curiosity.  I had to continue, the words called to me.

As I read the answer to the question, I found myself weeping, giving thanks for this saucy dirty old man that encouraged me to be the person that I am today.  It said, “An angel is a person who leaves our world better because they were in it.”  Through my tears, I started to laugh thinking about this broken not too old of a man, appearing as one of the many angels who journey through my life.

Through this week, let us stop and give thanks for our angels (sometimes disguised in the strangest packages that we could ever know).  We are bolder and better because of their legacy.  When you think of the special people in your life, remember to stop and give thanks and praise for the people that speak the words that you need to hear at the moment that you need to hear them.  Today we say, “Praise be to God for our angels.”

 

Beaten and Broken (Sometimes)

There are times that I feel a little beaten up.  My struggles may come in the form of unkind words, or actions meant to harm me.  There are moments that I want to rise up and defend myself.  I want to shout, “How inconsiderate of you to say that to me!”  There are other times that I want to say, “Stop what you are doing.  It is painful and completely unnecessary.”

The truth is, we all feel a little broken at times.  None of us are exempt from the reality that sometimes people are unkind.  They wage war against us with words that cut like knives, or actions that shake us to our very core.  We leave the scene with emotional cuts and bruises.  We may be Christians, but our hearts can still break.

In times of pain and suffering, God honors my sadness, but also wants me to move past my woundedness.  We are not meant to live in a constant state of bitterness, but we are to live in the promise of new found life. Christ is where our hope lies.  God’s power revealed to us in ways that only holy love can speak.

Today I am grateful for friends that lead me back to the source of my faith.  Praise be to God that people are in our lives who share the gift of the Father’s unfailing love.  Through the kindness of others, we are transformed to bring the presence of love itself into a world that needs to know that holy grace flows back to us, even in times of trial.

 

Divide Us, Smide Us!

I am at my first General Conference of the United Methodist Church. I can only say that within 10 minutes of the first general assembly, I was frustrated and very disappointed. I left the room wondering, “What in the world is in store for the future of my church?” Not only can we not get along, but one side is bullying the other side and attempting to stifle any conversation regarding our differences. “God,” I reasoned, “please speak through your people, in spite of your people.”

I am reminded that we all have different versions or sides to a story. Each of us interprets each act of love and hate in our own way. Our language is not the same. To make the assumption that we all speak of God, in the same way, is to grossly misjudge our sense of individuality and personal sacred worth. We should never assume that we have a monopoly on the truth. We are not God, nor are we appointed to serve as judge and jury regarding other people’s perceptions. Our task is to love God and love others.

Perhaps this conference reminds me that I serve an incredible congregation of believers. My prayer is that we will continue to grow in our tiny part of the world, and not allow those who are governed by politics and hatred to spread their doctrines into the doors of our church. May they take their “stuff” elsewhere. As for us, we will hold fast to the truth that we are all loved by our amazing Creator.

The reality is that we are a loving congregation. We rejoice in the miraculous events that happen in the life of our community, and we mourn with one another when unimaginable events knock us to our knees. Though we are different, we are united in our love and passion for God and God’s people. Praise be to the One, who fashions us in His image and creates in us a new heart and a new spirit.

It’s Okay to Mourn

I am entering the week that marks the end of the firsts regarding my mother’s death.  This is the first Thanksgiving that she will not be with us.  This time last year she was in the hospital.  Has a year really gone by?

My life has radically changed since last November.  I have a new home, new church, new car.  My family is readjusting to living in a big city.  While we learned many lessons “on the prairie” we are grateful to be back in a place that affords us the opportunities to which we grew accustomed to in Houston.  Having an Albertsons back in my life is wonderful!

So, while I have experienced all of these wonderful changes, I still feel an amount of sadness.  I am still in a season of grief.  I miss my mom (particularly at this time of year).  I miss hearing the excitement in her voice as she made plans to visit us during the holidays.  I miss talking about the “appropriate” things that my children should get from Santa.  Of course my mom didn’t care what I had to say, my children would be smothered in gifts to their heart’s delights.

While I love my family and my life is very rich and full, for a year now there has been a hole that speaks loudly in my life.  I am very grateful that my mother wasn’t ill at the end of her life.  She died almost immediately after she suffered a pulmonary embolism.  Praise God that it was quick and she experienced little if any pain.  I am convinced that she opened her eyes on the other side and beheld the incredible wonders of God.  Claiming the promises of my faith I admit that I still miss her.

As I move through my grief I rejoice that God’s work still journeys forward.  I am grateful that my ministry continues to move forward with the reassurance that we are all doers of the Word.  We move forward with hope, knowing that God will comfort in times of joy, grief, sorrow, etc…  Name them all, God will be there.

God’s presence does not indicate that we will not feel loss.  Quite the opposite.  Our faith is made whole as we fall into the arms of God who will nurture us through the periods of mourning.  This is the center of our hope.  Through sadness, God will still be there.

I pray that the blessings of God will be with you now and always.  I pray that you may grow in the love and knowledge of God.  I pray for all that mourn; that they may be comforted.

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