Sunday Prayer Drive--Where People Need the Lord

 Last Sunday afternoon, Jonathan and I did something we've never done before. The day before, after working together near Truckton, we stopped to say hello to some friends who have a little ranch on the prairie. Another couple was there who were friends of theirs, and we got acquainted. The man, Dave, has felt the Lord laying on his heart to begin a prayer ministry of prayer drives over every road in eastern Colorado. He hopes to recruit others to help him, until every road--paved or dirt--has been driven over and prayed on.

Since the children were all gone that weekend, I suggested going out with this couple on a one-hour prayer drive Sunday afternoon. The plan was formulated, and our friend Luellen decided to come along, too. So there were five of us. We went from four o'clock to five, and we began in a little development near Ellicott. 

We just drove up and down all the roads in that development, taking turns praying one or more sentence prayers out loud for the different homes or people that we passed. 

We prayed for God speak to hearts, to waken sinners, to mend broken marriages and hearts, to help families, to stop abuse, to bring joy and peace to the neighborhood, to send someone to tell them of Jesus. And my heart was convicted. Was the Lord calling me to answer my own prayer?

Then we drove to a run-down mobile home park, and we drove slowly along the lanes there praying for the homes and the people, including someone who lives there that we know.

By the time that hour was over, my heart was broken for all the people in all those homes.

I had never experienced anything like it.

I had never looked at those homes and those developments and people that way.

I wanted to get away from people.
Until, with friends, we prayed for them.

Neither Luellen nor I had ever seen that mobile home park, and she didn't even know it existed. 

We just drove slowly through, grieving at the poverty and mess and sin,

and praying.

One hour of prayer.

It wasn't much, but it was an amazing experience,

five of us out on the open prairie far from the city and the mountains,

out where people live and work, out in the mess of a poor mobile home park,

where people need the Lord.  

Just praying.

That's all.

Truckton--Out on the Wide, Empty Prairie

Last Saturday I accompanied Jonathan to a new job starting out near Truckton, about 45 minutes from here far out on the open prairie.

He was needing to measure some distances on the lots

 and pound in stakes with address numbers on them.

It was the day after his mother's funeral,

and it just seemed like we needed to go together to work.

I enjoyed the trip in the truck and helping hold the measuring stick while we measured hundreds of feet of measurements out there.  

Out where the prairie dogs disappeared inside their holes as soon as our truck showed up.

Out where the cow path trailed along the fence.

Where, on this side of the road, there was next to nothing except weeds and thistles,

and tumbleweed and cowpies.

And us out under the blue sky.

And God.

There is always God. 

The evening after the funeral when we came home after spending part of the evening with extended family sharing and reading cards to family, the world had suddenly seemed strangely empty without Mama.

Her spot was not little. 

It loomed.

And it was empty. 

Empty and cold.

Death of a close loved one leaves you feeling strangely vulnerable.

The sense was almost frightening, and I had to get hold of myself and remember that God was still here.

We were reminded of this again this week when fresh flowers were delivered to our doorstep from

A Ladybug Floral--a gorgeous arrangement from Mission Helps.

 "When my mother...forsake(s) me, then the Lord will take care of me."

It's amazing how flowers help to fill that spot-letting us know we are not alone, 

letting us know how many friends we have,

how many care. 

That even when a mother is taken away, friends and family are still here, and life goes on--

 

because God is already there!

 

 

The Light Above Mama's Casket

 Some people would view the dazzling rays just above Mama Lucas's casket as merely a reflection of the sun on a windshield in the background as the pall bearers arrived an hour early to take the casket into the church for the funeral. 

That's the earthly explanation.

But when I noticed those rays as I was trying to pick out the best picture, they stood out to me.

Maybe because it was so unintentional; I was just trying to get a good picture of the pallbearers and casket. 

Maybe because it was practically exact center of the picture.

Maybe it was because of what Jonathan's dad had said to us a few days before,

"The light has gone out of my life."

Or maybe it was because of the last line in the obituary, "Helen was the light that lit the Lucas home."

Either way, as I looked and looked at that gem-shaped reflection of light with rainbow colored rays going every which way, it just had me in awe. Had God allowed that special reflection to just happen to be in my photo, just to send, at least to me, a little message?

Perhaps the message that despite Mama being gone, light is still with us?

A special light sent from heaven?

The light of her memories;

her example;

her Savior?

Light fell all around the casket and the flowers that day.

It was such a beautiful sunny day!

Light was there when Jonathan's father looked at the face of his dear one for the last time while dear Brother Donald Lefever played hymns on the organ.

While grandchildren and friends found seats--including Lloyd Bley who traveled all the way from Nebraska. And many others who came in after this picture was taken.

Light shone while family gathered in the vestibule for prayer before the family processional.

Light glimmered while Rev. Kearney opened the service and led singing; Rev. Stearns read the obituary; Bro. Gault read the Scriptures; 

Robert Lefever read the many memories;

and Rev. and Sis. Hunt sang "In the Garden," and Rev. Hunt gave the message.

And once again, light shone above the casket as the sons and grandsons carried out their loved mother and grandma--like the light that God has promised to all those who walk with Him. There is no need to walk in darkness, for we have the Light of life! And even after the light of a mother and grandmother has flickered out, that Light is still with us!

Flowers for a Mother and Grandma Who Loved Flowers

 As I came in the door of Springs Funeral Services last Thursday for the viewing for Jonathan's mother, I was bringing more flowers sent from my extended family.

"There are so many flowers that there aren't enough stands for them," the funeral director admitted.

So I simply placed them on the platform area near the other flowers. (The funeral home is a remodeled space that used to be used as a church.)

Earlier that day my daughter Crystal, who had arrived with my brother Fain and his wife Regina and daughter Candace, was helping in the kitchen, along with the others. Carrie was pulling elk meat off of bones for elk burritos to take hunting later in the weekend,  

while Regina washed tons of dishes and Candace helped with making pumpkin rolls and deviled eggs for the funeral meal.

 

It was the first time I was part of the family at a viewing. So many kind people came, even other children and young people so that our children didn't have to spend the whole time just being sad. 

I had never personally experienced the blessing of flowers at a funeral before (just admired them at others' funerals). Not only is it comforting and touching to see how many people valued the departed and his or her family, but flowers make conversation pieces to people who don't know what to say, or to the family who is just there grieving and trying not to cry. At the end of the viewing, we were all taking note of who sent which flowers, taking pictures, and feeling thankful for so many friends who cared so much as to send flowers! We knew they aren't cheap.

I happened to be standing behind Daddy Lucas and Jonathan and caught this picture just after Daddy was sharing about which Scriptures he had picked for Mama's funeral Scriptures for the next day.

Like the one about nothing, (not even c o v i d), can separate us from the love of Christ. 

The above bouquet is from a church in Far North, Alaska, where Jonathan's parents have visited and made friends.  

This one is from Daniel and Elaine Bump, who used to be very close friends with Jonathan's parents when they lived here in Colorado.

Daddy Lucas says that every morning he would wake up and say, "Good morning, Sweetie Pie," to Mama, and she would say, "Good morning, Honey Bunch." 

                                 I always love to hear the tender things that are remembered.

         These beautiful peach gladioli are from the Elizabeth Bible Missionary Church.

Jonathan's Mother in Heaven

Yesterday afternoon, Jonathan's mother finished the good fight.

She had just gotten home from a visit to her oldest son in New Mexico where she also got to hold her first great grandchild for the first time. 

The picture above is one that Dave and Ruth took of her and Daddy Lucas there. 

Mama was 83 years old, the same age her mother was when her mother died.

In the last week and a half since Daddy took Mama to the hospital, we've been quietly taking steps just in case Mama didn't make it. One of those steps is gathering photos.

The one above is one I found of the day Mama and Daddy Lucas were both baptized along with three of their grandchildren and others at a lake near us.   

 Because of the hope Mama Lucas had in Christ, her family had hope yesterday afternoon after Jonathan arrived first in the morning to discover his mother very, very low. We had hope as Jonathan and his father sang "Amazing Grace" outside the window pictured above at a little station in the hall between two rooms.  Jonathan took a picture of this to send some of us so we could picture in our minds where he was going to visit his mother.

They had hope when Jonathan's dad and his oldest brother took turns dressing up in full c o v i d gear, goggles and all, to go in and say their final goodbyes.

They had hope that even when Mama's double vac ci nation hadn't saved her, God was still there for her.

They had hope as the family was finally permitted to gather in the hall by the station phone by the window and to sing "My Jesus I love Thee."

"I'll love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death," sang the quavering voices, 

while nurses' eyes filled with tears and another patient down the hall expressed the wish that the singing group would come to sing for them, too!

 We had hope after Hannah and I arrived, only a few minutes before the nurses came to the family gathered in the guest room of Penrose Main Hospital to let us know that Helen Lucas had passed away. 

We had hope when the hospital chaplain came to bring a necessary paper to sign and asked if we would desire to pray. 

We had hope when Rose texted, wondering where we were. She had found Grandma's room where the nurses who had been with her had already slipped away, and she wept in my arms, and Jonathan's. 

Hannah sat with her Bible in her lap, open to Psalm 23. 

Grandma had just been to our house about two and a half weeks ago, after coming home from New Mexico. We had helped her out of the house because her knees hurt too badly to step down alone.

She didn't seem her usual self.

And God saw that He didn't want Grandma to suffer any longer, and took her Home. 

We were glad we had no regrets over how we'd treated Grandma. We'd had her to our home different times recently, and gone to hers as well, always helping her and doing our best to be kind and loving, knowing this day was coming.

This plaque was hanging in the elevator at Penrose Main hospital as we came down from third floor yesterday.
"The Lord is a merciful and gracious God; slow to anger and rich in kindness and fidelity."

No one in the family gathered had eaten lunch, I discovered, forgetting that I hadn't had any either, except two rice cakes on the way to the hospital. Jonathan hadn't had breakfast either, except for a powder shake.

I ran to the grocery store about 4 p.m. and picked up a few things to make supper at Daddy Lucas's place for whoever might end up coming there.

Jonathan had to take care of a business issue, but by the time I was arriving at his folks' home, he was just arriving, too. 

Together we walked past his mother's flowers, still blooming in October, to the door that usually opened to see her inside.

This time she wasn't there.

Tears filled both our eyes as we paused to admire the flowers still blooming along the sidewalk.

I especially noticed this one, an unusually beautiful snapdragon, growing wild right near the front door in the lawn grass, among the leaves that had just blown down. A snapdragon with colors so golden white that they had to be a gift dropped down from heaven to remind us where Grandma had gone.