Jordan’s Stormy Banks

Sickness, sorrow, pain and death are felt and feared no more

There is no rhyme or reason that we as mortals can think of for the death of a small child, but today the impact of such a death is rippling through my office. One of my co-workers has a wonderful wife and two beautiful girls. A little after 8:00 this morning the younger of his two children went in for a heart catheterization in her 10th week of life. After beginning the anesthesia, Ella Cate’s heart stopped beating. Her doctors worked for over an hour to revive her, but could not. As I learned of this painful news, I was reminded of my favorite hymn – “On Jordan’s Stormy Banks.” The third and fourth verses especially spoke to me of the promise we have as Christians looking into Cannan’s happy land:

3. No chilling winds nor poisonous breath
Can reach that healthful shore;
Sickness, sorrow, pain and death,
Are felt and feared no more.

4. When shall I reach that happy place,
And be forever blessed?
When shall I see my Father’s face,
And in His bosom rest?

I am bound for promised land.

May we all take a moment in our busy days to realize that the stormy shores on which we stand are but a fleeting moment in our Christian life. We ARE bound, WE are bound, we are BOUND for the promised land.

Metamorphisis

Franz Kafka may have penned the novel, but folks, I’m here to tell you that my house lives the story. Recently my sweet roommates and I have been fighting an uphill battle of us vs. the roaches. Right now the roaches are putting up a strong front, but little do they know that we are closing in on them from all sides. We have sprayed, we have squashed, we have washed, we have sealed, and we have screamed. Now we are bringing in the Realtor to show him the HUGE cracks in our kitchen wall. There is at least, and I’m really not kidding, a 4 to 5 inch gap between the bottom cabinet and the wall. You can actually see the pipes! The abyss behind the dishwasher should have its own zip code and I believe a cross-eyed two year old could have hammered the back boards to our cabinets closer together.

Last night sweet Caroline pulled out the utensil drawer to retrieve a knife – simply to cut her honeydew – and sitting there on our forks was specimen number 483…the roach. She sprayed…it ran…she followed…it died. A small victory for us, but it had the final word as we had to wash the entirety of our utensil drawer. I feel like every shadow has now metamorphosized into our worst nightmare – Not only are they getting more numerous, but they are growing in size! Pray for our safety and sanity as we battle our unwelcome house pests.