When One Finger Hurts

At age twelve I learned how to make peanut brittle. I awed when white sugar crystals melted into a translucent, brown, extremely hot liquid. At that point, the other ingredients were quickly stirred in then poured onto a baking sheet to cool and harden.

Peanut brittle—my more than 100-year-old Great Grandpa’s favorite candy! I’d make him some for Christmas! Problem? Mom said no—there wasn’t enough time before leaving for our church’s Christmas service where I had a violin solo. I was quite certain she was wrong. Besides, wouldn’t she have a change of heart since this was for HER grandfather?

I rush about, preparing. All went well till I accidentally poured some of the molten liquid onto my left index fingertip. Horrific pain! I bolted to the sink and threw on the cold water, melting away the candy coating over my already blistered finger. Tears poured as I squeezed ointment onto my wound and bandaged it. How could I play my solo now? I told Mom what happened, but she insisted I still perform. After all, hadn’t she told me to wait?

That evening I wept as I contorted my aching hand to substitute for notes my burned finger failed to play. Some folks in the congregation told me how moved they were by my emotional playing. (I’m sure my playing could cause weeping anyway.) I’d only injured one finger, but my whole hand hurt.

Later in life I heard someone say, “When one finger hurts, so does the whole hand.” My mind flashed back to that Christmas and the painful solo. My husband and I learned this on a much larger scale when our daughter ran away from home and didn't return. Our whole family hurt.

When you love someone in pain, you hurt too. The “whole hand” does. That’s the way it is. Jesus Christ, our Balm, brought us through those prodigal years and continues to give us hope.

Do you have a family member going through tough stuff? A friend? Where do you turn for hope?

Cancer, Causes, and Cures

During Breast Cancer Awareness Month, pink's promoted everywhere—not just in women’s clothing but NFL uniforms as well—all in hopes of raising money for a cure. Why do we wear pink and not blue for that guy-cancer? And why wear ribbons to make us aware?

I don’t need reminding. October 1990 I spotted a billboard advertising free mammograms. I scheduled one, keenly aware of this cancer’s cruelty. My mom lie dying of it. Her mother also had breast cancer, making my sister and I what the medical community calls “high risk”

Today marks the anniversary of two events: Our twin son’s birthdays, and Mom’s passing into eternity. We celebrated life and death the same day. The day after we buried Mom, I went for my mammogram.

The technician saw my grief and asked if I was okay. I wasn’t and explained why. Extra eyes examined my films, and a compassionate radiologist shared that a suspicious spot needing follow-up was detected. That first step led to others, including an oncologist and eventual lumpectomy.

No, I don’t wear a pink ribbon. I have, however, been deeply affected by the disease. It didn’t look very “pink” to me. Cancer’s ugly—in any form. If folks need an awareness ribbon or month to remind them to take care of themselves or a loved one, so be it. 

Has cancer touched your life? Wouldn’t a cure be wonderful? But Hope exists whether a cure is found or not—through salvation in Jesus Christ. And should you know Him and find yourself dealing with cancer, view the places it takes you as opportunities to spread hope to folks who need it. 

A Season For Everything

Photo by Kailey Kaska~use with permission~Kim Bankley-Olson

Fall break from school has ended, but the weather cooperated. We finished sorely-needed weeding on those unseasonably warm days filled with autumn sights and smells. Neighborhood children played in clothes that will soon be packed away till spring.

I love autumn. The beautiful colors really signify death, leading into months of cold and desolation. Yet with each fall, then winter, comes the promise of spring and summer. Predictable—marked on calendars. As surely as one season passes, another will takes its place. What a great God to plan four of them!

Seasons remind me of a God Who cares. Study the foliage—the wonder. Even in the temporary dying of leaves, He displays His artistry. And God’s palate of browns and grays also holds vibrant greens and rainbow colors He paints again come spring. So the cycle continues.

A time to be born, and a time to die. We just welcomed grandbaby #5, one amongst the 350,000* plus births celebrated in the world on his special day! This autumn famed Steve Jobs died, along with 150,000* plus unknown to us who also stepped into either eternal life or eternal death that same day.

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up. Farmers in our area finished harvesting crops, now stored in barns. They’ve rolled their hay, which is transported to many horse farms across Kentucky’s bluegrass region.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted … I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Ecclesiastes 3:1,2,10–11a (ESV)

Enjoy the Creator’s artistry!

*Various websites differ in their calculations. This is an estimate from several.

Losing And Winning

Baseball season flies by, yet a year-round reminder hangs over my desk—a Dave Dravecky baseball card. My favorite player? Not really, but he’s one who inspires me to keep going.

The first time Dravecky pitched for the Padres, they lost. After that disappointment, Dave’s wife Jan gave her husband advice he’d use on and off the ball field—to pitch for Jesus Christ, not the fans. Dave took this to heart, and it changed his “game.”

After Dravecky was traded to the Giants, he discovered a lump in his pitching arm. The cancerous tumor attached itself to the bone and spread into the muscle. Doctor’s told Dave after surgery he’d never pitch again. But God had another plan.

Dave worked hard in therapy, eventually playing in the minors before returning to the Giants. Crowds cheered as he pitched eight innings that first game back. Five days later Dave pitched his last game—his arm breaking with a snap that rang through the stands. He underwent more surgeries, the last to amputate his left arm up into the shoulder. But God still had a plan.

Dave and Jan wrote Comeback followed by When You Can’t Come Back. Another author wrote Dave’s inspiring story for children. The past two decades Dave’s spoken to crowds, reminding them to live for Jesus Christ only—that the applause of Heaven matters most.

Sometimes you can come back from a hurt or loss; sometimes you can’t. Sometimes the death of one dream means the birth of another—one you couldn’t imagine being without when all is said and done. 

God and you—a homerun! Are you on His team? If you’re not sure, watch the "One Way To Heaven" (video) and/or read the "Finding Hope In God" page to learn more.