Now may our God and Father Himself, and our Lord Jesus, direct our way to you, and may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, as we do for you, so that He may establish your hearts blameless in holiness before our God and Father, at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all His saints.

1 Thessalonians 3:11-13

How Do We Break Through Satan’s Obstacles? 1 Thessalonians 3:11–13, Part 1

We Act God’s Miracle of Love: 1 Thessalonians 3:11–13, Part 2

Love Establishes Us in Holiness: 1 Thessalonians 3:11–13, Part 3

How Can We Be Found Blameless at the End? 1 Thessalonians 3:11–13, Part 4

Made Holy to Meet the Holy Ones: 1 Thessalonians 3:11–13, Part 5

“I have loved you for so long.” These were the words my mother said to me just days before her death, as she reached up to brush my unruly hair away from my face.
“I know, Mom,” I said, as I took her frail hand in mine and kissed the bruises left from her IVs.
“Oh, yeah?” she asked.
“How do you know?”
“Because I have loved you for just as long,” I said.
And, for a moment, it was just us — me and mom — sharing a delicate moment as so many mothers and daughters do.
She wasn’t an Alzheimer’s patient fighting for her dignity.
She wasn’t a cancer patient who was unable to comprehend her diagnosis.
She was just a mom. My mom.
Trying her best to let me know she loves me by telling me…and fixing my hair…because that’s what mothers do.
Many months have passed since she left this earth, and as my first Mother’s Day without her approaches, I find myself reflecting on everything about her.
I think of her smile and the way it lit up a room. I think of her laughter, and the countless times we giggled over the most stupid things — the kind of giggles that make you fart out loud and laugh even harder.
I think of the way I would hear her storm down the hall to my room on weekday mornings in search of her shoes, scarf, or lipstick — whatever it was I “borrowed” at the moment to make myself look more sophisticated than I was at 12 or 13 and how crazy I must have driven her from time to time.
I think of the days after my adolescence was far behind me when we became more than mother and daughter-the days we became lifelong friends-meeting for wine and shopping after work, talking daily about anything and everything.
I think of the way she was in the room when my son took his first breath, and the times I would call her crying because one day he would be leaving for college.
I think of the way she would gently remind me he was only two or 10 or 13, and how there was no need to be upset because when the time came, I would survive it (she was right, of course).
I think of the day we got mom’s Alzheimers diagnosis
I think of the day I drove her to the neurologist’s office to be tested for Alzheimer’s, and the anger in her eyes when the diagnosis came back as expected. I think of the way she would scream at me when she accused me of thinking, “She’s crazy,” and how the hazy, distant look in her eyes seemed to progress with each passing day.
I think of the plaque that continued to grow on the neurons in her brain, and the combative years she had before turning a corner and not remembering her diagnosis at all.
I think of the day I found out she had terminal cancer and how difficult it was to decide whether or not to tell her.
I think of the weeks I lived with her and the time we spent coloring, dancing to King George (Strait), and falling asleep holding hands.
I think of the pain she was in at the very end, and how much I had to fight with healthcare workers who refused to acknowledge her nonverbal cues and withheld the much needed morphine.
I think of our last day together at the beach, listening to The Beach Boys and Jimmy Buffet and how thankful I am that she had the strength to make it to our cherished place one more time.
I think of how lucky I am.
Not only because she is my mother, but because I didn’t have to watch her degenerate into the final stages of Alzheimer’s when one loses the ability to speak, eat or function. I think of how my prayer was answered and something other than Alzheimer’s took my mother home, just six short weeks after diagnosis.
I think of how I am just one of millions who will wake up on Mother's Day and wish they could hear their mother’s voice just one more time. I think of those who consider themselves motherless, and I hope and pray they realize they are wrong.
We aren’t motherless. No, we may not be able to hold their hand or send them flowers or take them to lunch on Sunday, but we aren’t motherless.

We are still daughters. And sons.
The only difference is that our mothers have been called to do something else for the time being. Remember, it’s not goodbye…it’s just a see you later.
Most of all, I think of the day, God willing, I’ll see her again and how I know it will go something like this….
I’ll arrive at the Pearly Gates with my hair in a messy bun or sweaty ponytail, and as she’s reaching up to fix it, I’ll hear her say the words, “I have missed you for so long.”
“I know, Mom,” I’ll say to her, as I gently kiss her hand.
“Oh yeah? How do you know?” she’ll ask, with a knowing smile.
And I’ll say, “Because I have missed you for just as long.”
For a moment, it will just be us again — me and mom — sharing a sacred moment as many children and mothers do.
Her pain will be gone.
Her memory restored.
She’ll just be a mom. My mom.
Trying her best to let me know she missed me through her words and actions. And I’ll tell her the same…and let her fix my hair…because that’s what daughters do.
by Karen Hall

George Strait - Love Without End, Amen

A bowl of living treasures! 🐢💎
Baby Indian spotted pond turtles. 🙌🏻

We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.

Hebrews 6:19-20

Evening

"And he said, Thus saith the Lord, Make this valley full of ditches. For thus saith the Lord, Ye shall not see wind, neither shall ye see rain; yet that valley shall be filled with water, that ye may drink, both ye and your cattle, and your beasts."
2 Kings 3:16-17

The armies of the three kings were famishing for want of water: God was about to send it, and in these words the prophet announced the coming blessing. Here was a case of human helplessness: not a drop of water could all the valiant men procure from the skies or find in the wells of earth. Thus often the people of the Lord are at their wits' end; they see the vanity of the creature, and learn experimentally where their help is to be found. Still the people were to make a believing preparation for the divine blessing; they were to dig the trenches in which the precious liquid would be held. The church must by her varied agencies, efforts, and prayers, make herself ready to be blessed; she must make the pools, and the Lord will fill them. This must be done in faith, in the full assurance that the blessing is about to descend. By-and-by there was a singular bestowal of the needed boon. Not as in Elijah's case did the shower pour from the clouds, but in a silent and mysterious manner the pools were filled. The Lord has his own sovereign modes of action: he is not tied to manner and time as we are, but doeth as he pleases among the sons of men. It is ours thankfully to receive from him, and not to dictate to him. We must also notice the remarkable abundance of the supply--there was enough for the need of all. And so it is in the gospel blessing; all the wants of the congregation and of the entire church shall be met by the divine power in answer to prayer; and above all this, victory shall be speedily given to the armies of the Lord.

What am I doing for Jesus? What trenches am I digging? O Lord, make me ready to receive the blessing which thou art so willing to bestow.