A Little Girl Lost

Archive for the ‘death’ Category

Adopted on Easter

Our local church talks a lot about adoption. We have added so many children recently I have trouble keeping up with their names. They bless us with their love, joy, and faith.

We have celebrated Easter with loud “Hosannas.” We’ve listened to Jesus’ forgive his murderers. We have shouted, “He is risen!” and “Christ is risen indeed!”
Before I understood the need for Jesus’ death, I knew adoption. My husband adopted our daughter. My father-in-law accepted me as a daughter. We became part of a family full of love. 

Adopted.

Jesus was beaten for our transgressions. He was crucified for our sins. He rose to conquer sin and death in this dark world. And he did it all because he loves us (John 3:16).
The life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ offer eternal life and adoption into his royal family. When we accept his great love, mercy, grace, and forgiveness we become children of God.
Adopted. Sonship – full members in the family of God.
Unlike me, God is able to name each of his adopted children. He has their names written in the palm of his hand (Isaiah 49:16). He has inscribed our names in The Lambs Book of Life.
Jesus is my Brother. My Savior. My Friend.
God is my Daddy. My Father. My King.
“The Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry,‘Abba Father’” (Romans 8:15 NIV).
In Christ,
Berta
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The Living Tree


Courtesy of Flickr

After my accident, I developed pneumonia and the doctor put me on a ventilator. He told Earl if I lived, I’d be brain damaged, ventilator dependent and bedridden for life, and he was too young to be stuck with an invalid wife. Then, the doctor offered to let me die – comfortably.
Earl remembered his wedding vows, chose life for me, and had me transferred to a rehabilitation hospital in Atlanta, Georgia. As soon as I arrived, they cultured my trach. It grew MRSA—that hard to kill staph infection. The staff moved me into a lonely isolation room.
Spring had always been my favorite season, and I had a birds-eye view of the treetops outside my second floor window. I watched tender red shoots and delicate buds appear on tiny limbs, followed by the smallest pairs of green leaves. Those signs of new life brought me comfort.
One sunny morning, I noticed a tree that hadn’t grown new branches or buds. Each day it remained the same ash gray color, and I decided it was dead. I told everyone who came into my room that I wished someone would cut it down so I wouldn’t have to look at it.
After ranting about that dead tree for a week, I looked out my window and saw tiny pairs of leaves on that living tree. I began to weep as I realized that what I’d said about that tree was what the doctor had said about me. Ugly. Useless. Not worth keeping alive.
I knew then that God was with me, telling me my life wasn’t over. After all, by then I was ventilator free, in my right mind, and mobile in my power wheelchair. My attitude changed and I looked forward to visitors. I told each one about God’s grace, the living tree, and the new life he offered.

“Then he told this parable, ‘A man had a fig tree, planted in his vineyard, and went to look for fruit on it, but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, “For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?” ‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down” (Luke 13:6-9 NIV).


“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1 NKJV).

In Christ,
Berta
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Thank you,
Berta

Raised From the Dead

As an LPN working in the critical care unit at a local hospital, I was in the final hour of a twelve-hour shift when I entered my last patient’s room. A “Do Not Resuscitate” sign was posted at the door. I had met several of her family members the evening before and appreciated their love for her.
Looking at the cardiac monitor I saw her heart rate decrease to zero. I listened to her heart and lungs for life-signs. There were none. Stepping out, I asked the unit secretary to call her family members in from the waiting room.
Back at her bedside I leaned over, placed my hand on her chest and spoke quietly to her lifeless form, “Your family is coming in and you know they would like to be with you to say goodbye.” Gazing at the monitor, I watched her heart rhythm begin slowly. I laid my stethoscope on her chest and listened to her faint heartbeat while my own raced.
She was alive! And she lived long enough for her family to gather at her bedside and say goodbye to her.
Do such resurrections occur today? Yes. I am a witness. God on His throne reached down and used a young Christian to touch the soul of a dying woman.
Life is a precious gift. I know the Person who gives this gift. Do you know Him?
“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows” (James 1:17 NIV).
In Christian Love,
Berta

New Life

Hospitalized after a serious injury I developed pneumonia. A culture of my secretions grew out MRSA (mer-sa) and the nurses moved me to an isolation room. My doctors said that if I lived I would have brain damage, be bedridden, and ventilator dependent. They told my husband that he was too young to be stuck with an invalid wife and they offered to let me die—comfortably, of course. My husband, remembering his wedding vows, chose life for me, and had me transferred to a rehabilitation hospital in Atlanta, GA.

As spring arrived, I had a birds-eye view of treetops outside my second floor isolation room window. Spring had always been my favorite season and I watched tender red shoots and buds appear on tiny limbs, followed by the smallest pairs of green leaves. Those signs of new life brought me comfort and encouragement.

However, one tree didn’t grow new branches or buds. Each day it was the same ash gray color and I decided that it was dead. I told everyone who came to see me that I wished someone would cut it down so I wouldn’t have to look at it.

Then one sunny morning I saw tiny pairs of green leaves on that dead tree. I began to weep as I realize what I’d been saying about that tree was what the doctors had said about me. I knew then God was with me, telling me my life wasn’t over.

“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1 NKJV).

In Christ Alone,
Berta

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