The air outside our Carolina cabin was cold, gray, and damp.
And I was with my friend Judy and I was with my mother, Lindy Eareckson. It was many years ago and we were enjoying a few days in a mountain cabin near the Smokies. And although it was cold outside, our fireplace was bright with a cheery fire. We were sitting there, spending time with our friends visiting from Asheville, North Carolina. One of my friends – his name was Bruce – he’d been recently injured in a diving accident. He was a quadriplegic like me and he wanted to get together to talk about how to forge ahead in life – he sat straight and handsome in his wheelchair. I would never have guessed that a few days before, his wife had moved out. She could not take the huge change this would mean in their marriage. And I never would have guessed that Bruce was facing tremendous legal and financial problems, as well as the baggage of just adjusting to quadriplegia – before his accident, Bruce had been a successful dentist. Now, with no use of his hands, it seemed he had lost his career.
After we discussed some of the hurdles he’d have to cross, he was silent for a long moment and then he sighed, saying, “Man, this stuff is not easy.” I watched my 84-year-old mother who was sitting to the side, just taking it all in, just listening. My mother was a battle-scarred veteran of pain and loss, having had to come to grips with my own diving accident years earlier, and then just having lost Daddy a few months before. At the end of our visit with Bruce, after we had “talked shop” and taken photos, after we huddled closer to the fire to pray, my mother all the sudden spoke up. She reached for everyone’s hands to form a circle, and she said, offering to the Lord, she said she wanted to sing this hymn. Her voice may have sounded crackled and off-key, but right then Bruce and I felt our hearts enlarge with her comfort. In fact, I have a recording (it’s a little scratchy) but I’ve got a recording of it. Let’s listen to my mother sing this.
I do not know why oft around me, my hopes all shattered seem to be;
God’s perfect plan I cannot see, but someday, I’ll understand:
Someday he’ll make it plain to me, someday when I his face shall see.
Someday from tears I shall be free, for someday I shall understand.
Friend, my mother was not a seminary graduate or a Bible scholar. But that day with Bruce, she had not said much, and had just listened. But that afternoon, she glorified God with that hymn perhaps more than any of us had. That’s because God chose her through which to share his comfort with us and, thereby, glorify himself. You see, God’s glory is the radiance of his attributes that break forth in visible ways around us. And that day by the fire, my mother was God’s mirror – glorifying him and reflecting the light of his comfort deep into our hearts.
My mommy has long since gone to heaven, but wow, just listening to her voice right then on that old recording, well, Mom, if you’re listening from heaven’s grandstand today, I just have to say, “Thank you, Mother. You encouraged Bruce that day, and so many others on countless other days. And what do you know, though absent from this earth, you’re still sharing God’s encouragement right now.” And, friend, I’d like you to see my mother singing that song – all you’ve got to do is click on joniandfriendsradio.org and just watch the video and sing along and consider yourself a part of the family. So come by and visit me today at our radio page today at joniandfriendsradio.org and let us hear from you. Until next time, thanks for listening to Joni and Friends.
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