My daughter, Amie, my two grandsons, Liam and Jayden, in Utrecht, the Netherlands

A few weeks ago I was in Holland visiting my daughter, her husband, and my two grandsons. Only when you become a grandparent do you understand why your friends, seemingly normal and reasonable people otherwise, go berzerk-o when they become grandparents. 

It is an unspeakable blessing if, in our life cycle, we can rear our own children and live long enough to see a grandchild. Seeing a grandchild opens our eyes once again to the miracle of life. 

As I have become involved in Pinnacle, I have witnessed our ministry to children in its various manifestations. I am reminded that of all the things we do here, this is job one: to love these children, to care for them, to protect them, and in so doing lead them on to Another who is perfect love.

Do you know the writings of the late Erma Bombeck? Her insights on parenting always made me laugh—or cry. Here is what she wrote to her children when they were grown.

“To the first born......
I've always loved you best because you were our first miracle. You were the genesis of a marriage, the fulfillment of young love, the promise of our infinity.

You sustained us through the hamburger years. The first apartment furnished in Early Poverty... our first mode of transportation (1955 feet)... the 7-inch TV set we paid on for 36 months.

You wore new, had unused grandparents and more clothes than a Barbie doll. You were the "original model" for unsure parents trying to work the bugs out. You got the strained lamb, open pins and three-hour naps.

You were the beginning.

To the middle child...
I've always loved you the best because you drew the dumb spot in the family and it made you stronger for it.

You cried less, had more patience, wore faded and never in your life did anything "first," but it only made you more special. You are the one we relaxed with and realized a dog could kiss you and you wouldn't get sick. You could cross the street by yourself long before you were old enough to get married, and the world wouldn't come to an end if you went to bed with dirty feet.

You were the continuance.

To the baby...
I've always loved you the best because endings generally are sad and you are such a joy. You readily accepted milk stained bibs. The lower bunk. The cracked baseball bat. The baby book, barren but for a recipe for graham pie crust that someone jammed between the pages.

You are the one we held onto so tightly. For, you see, you are the link with the past that gives a reason to tomorrow. You darken our hair, quicken our steps, square our shoulders, restore our vision, and give us humor that security and maturity can't give us.

When your hairline takes on the shape of Lake Erie and your children tower over you, you will still be "the baby."

You were the culmination.”

 

 

The Psalmist speaks “Declare His glory among the nations, His marvelous deeds among all peoples.” I did not know the true meaning of this verse until we traveled to Haiti. When God calls you to “Go” you know there is no turning back. His summons comes without confusion and escorts you to an intentional place in your life and in His plan. It was truly life changing for me. We were somewhat prepared as to what to expect but we didn’t know the emotions we would feel, actually being with the people, especially the children. Riding through the streets of Port-au-Prince was traumatic – brokenness, rubble, destruction. Your heart breaks faster than your mind can process. New perspective crowds out old thinking and through the lenses of this world, you see your own in staggering contrast. What you are experiencing begins to reset the mold for how you think and will choose to live from this point forward. Amidst all of the ruin, I saw resilience, determination, and hope in the beautiful Haitian people. They were welcoming, loving and joyfully praising God. God is at work! His love and mercy can be readily seen in many ways.

Medical clinics were established at each site where we presented music. People waited for hours just to see one of the doctors. I don’t think I will ever forget the faces of those who sat waiting with their children hoping to receive medicine and a positive diagnosis for their family. It was a sea of people sitting in the ninety-five degree temperature just hoping for some encouraging word. A few times I lost it and I had to let the tears flow.

The children we sang with were filled with joy. Their faces were expressive, their body rhythm was overwhelming – they truly warmed our hearts with their love of Jesus. At times, I thought that they were amazed to see a white person dance as we did! The audience of interested village people that collected outside of our musical arena also seemed to sense the joy that was being expressed through our universal language.

Each night our team gathered, shared unforgettable moments of the day and prayed. Each time we did, someone asked God to let us be the hands and feet of Jesus. Those same words left my lips and as soon as they did I was overwhelmed by the weight of them. Because I had spoken them, I activated the possibility of what would happen when the request was granted. While we were each at different places sorting through the emotions and putting it all together, God was carefully at work completing the small details of His bigger story.

The action of one in the body impacts many. Our team was tiny in number but mighty in heart. We worked in harmony with gratitude and praise. What difference can God make with so few who are totally connected with one mind and heart? What difference can you make when you are connected to the mind and heart of God. During the week in Haiti, we learned.  So much is possible. If you feel God calling you, I encourage you to sign up for a future mission trip. Don’t miss this part of God’s plan.

“If you have a heartbeat...you can have hope.  If you have hope...
you have the tools that can bring you to a better tomorrow.
These tools have the power to bring you out of all despair.  
Now keep your head up...Because Anything Is Possible.” 

(from Hearts for Haiti: Book of Poetry & Inspiration by Timothy Pina)