Goin' Down to Mama's

Sunday Morning Serenity

We just had our first family reunion in . . . We can’t quite remember if it has been 20 or 30 years since we all gathered.  Probably closer to 30. My cousin’s wife told me she had prepared their young children: “You’ll probably see a lot of people who look like Daddy.”

And it’s true. There’s a strong resemblance in the McCranie family—Mama and her siblings and the cousins. The first cousins grew up together, and even the few who lived away from Shelby County, Alabama, visited several times a year because our grandmother said they had to. Period. But as we got older, with spouses, kids, and grandkids coming into the picture, it got harder and harder to bring everybody together. Until COVID pushed Mama over the edge. The whole time she was quarantined, all she could talk about was how she missed her family and how, the minute we had a vaccine, she wanted to see EVERYBODY. We managed a good 50+ I’d say. And it was pretty amazing.

A college friend who had heard me talk about my family once told me, “It’s like you’re going through life with this giant safety net under you.” She was right—I have indeed enjoyed a safety net, held up by close relatives on both sides of my family. I took that for granted when I was young but not now. 

I’ve been thinking about our family this morning—what makes us us. And I think so much of our identity is spiritual—it’s a shared faith passed down from one generation to the next. But it’s also mutual respect. The cousins were taught to respect our elders, while our elders took an active interest in all of us. It went both ways. Now I’m an elder! There are so many young cousins coming along. And that family resemblance is right there on those sweet faces.

There's one more tie that binds us. We've always had an awareness that we’re part of a story, one that goes back many, many years and connects all of us, past, present, and future. That story has been shared and passed down from Grandme to her children to their children to their children . . . and on it goes, this story we carry with us, reminding us of who we are and where we came from and how we're forever bound together as a family.

When Aunt Joyce passed away, her service included a reading of Scripture that speaks to that same familial connection between Christians and God:

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life,
nor angels, nor principalities,
nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,
Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature,
shall be able to separate us from the love of God,
which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8: 38-39

 

Sunday Morning Serenity

 

My friend Gary introduced me to a Sandi Patty song called “In the In Between,” and it's speaking to me this morning. It’s all about how it’s easy to celebrate God when you’re on the mountaintop, and it’s natural to call on Him when you’re in the valley. But sometimes we lose sight of His love “in the in between”—not the highs nor the lows but the everyday.

For a singer with such a powerhouse voice, this one is a departure because it’s quiet. No soaring high notes. No orchestra. Just a piano and a sincere expression of how we often forget God’s faithfulness—or at least I do.

My sister-friend Ginger reminded me of that recently. We were talking on the phone and she spoke so easily about an answered prayer and being led by the Holy Spirit. She made me remember how accessible God is—to those who ask and listen, which I forget to do sometimes. Or maybe I'm just being stubborn and rebellious. I’m so busy trying to “fix things” myself that I can't admit—can't even see—that I need help.

Ask, listen, trust. Thank you, sweet Ging. Thank you, Sandi.

 

Sunday Morning Serenity

Did you ever go through a period in your life when you felt like somebody stole your compass and you lost all sense of direction? That was me of late. And while I know better, from past experience, I chose not to admit defeat but to wallow in it, wrestle with it, and get really depressed about it. (It’s a personal choice, not for everybody.)

Finally, when I truly couldn’t handle it anymore, I gave up and prayed a simple prayer: “Lord, I am just lost.” Between the books and my job and all the upheaval caused by the pandemic, I’m exhausted most of the time, but what for?

(Note to self: You’ve been blessed to work from home and keep a rewarding job, which meant keeping your house and insurance during the pandemic, a time when many people lost theirs. Writing books is your dream come true. Most of all, your family made it through the past year and half. Many people didn't. Enough with the pity party.)

The afternoon following my "I am just lost," I received, out of the blue, an unexpected and a much-needed boost to my confidence—and, I believe, an answer to that prayer. The message I think I heard was this: You’re not lost. You just can’t see your destination from where you stand. So you need to have faith.

In other words, nobody stole my compass. I just neglected to read it.

For this reason I kneel before the Father, 
from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. 
I pray that out of his glorious riches 
he may strengthen you with power 
through his Spirit in your inner being, 
so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.
And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 
may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, 
to grasp how wide and long and high and deep
is the love of Christ, 
and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—
that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Ephesians 3:14-19