After living offshore in New Zealand for a number of years, Marlene enjoys meeting people from other cultures and trying new dishes that she cannot pronounce. She writes a monthly blog—Life’s an Adventure— to make people laugh and to encourage them, because, as she says, you may as well laugh at yourself before everyone else does.
She homeschooled her two children from kindergarten through high school, and, no, she never met George Washington, as her son once asked her.
Country living keeps her sane, and the sight of a miniature goat melts her heart. She loves being a wife and mother and is passionate about writing, traveling, fishing, and the great outdoors. If only the fish would take her hook ...
The bone cancer was winning the battle; Uncle Joe was losing.
After traveling 1,700 miles, my husband and I stood at his hospital bedside. This time when I tried to share the gospel, he listened, which was not only an answer to prayer but a miracle.
The next day an elderly roommate poked his head around the curtain, wearing a baseball cap that read, “I love Jesus.” With a voice of authority, he said, “Joe, I’d like to tell you about my Boss who I’ve served for over 50 years.” Using his amazing testimony, Don also shared the gospel. With tears in my eyes, I stifled a smile at how the Lord was working.
Don wholeheartedly loved the Lord. In his 80s, he was still regularly traveling to Guatemala, relying on the Lord for the funds to go and share the love of Jesus.
When a nurse came into the room, the three of us ducked behind the curtain. As I told Don about our prayer for someone to share with my uncle, his eyes widened. When the nurse finished, Don pushed back the curtain and said, “Joe, I’d like to pray over you.”
“Go ahead,” he replied, “but I don’t think it will do any good.” The Lord performed yet another miracle. The three of us laid hands on a stubborn man, whose resolve seemed to be crumbling.
When Don finished, my husband and I laid hands on him, beseeching the Lord for healing and safety on his upcoming trip to Central America.
When we returned from lunch, Don was gone. A cousin commented how one minute he was there and the next he wasn’t. Don had checked himself out of the hospital.
For the remainder of the afternoon, my uncle was exceedingly quiet. Being a deep thinker, we’d like to imagine he was contemplating what had been shared, and that the Holy Spirit was convicting him.
After the hospital staff admitted there was nothing more to be done, other than managing his pain, attention was turned toward taking him home.
Aunt Dorothy sat by his bed, the love of 65 years of marriage displayed in her kind and caring eyes. In a weak voice, Joe reached out for his wife’s hand, telling her he didn’t want to go home; he would be a burden to her. With compassion and tenderness, she said, “Joe, why then did we get married, if not to care for one another?”
There wasn’t a dry eye in the full room of family members. He had to surrender, and he knew it.
That night, my husband and I kissed Uncle Joe goodbye, knowing it would be the last time we would see him. He gave me a weak smile and winked at my husband. It was difficult walking away. I wanted to turn back and plead with him to accept Christ, but I knew I couldn’t do that; he’d heard the gospel, and it was the Holy Spirit’s job to convict him, not mine. But at the doorway, I had to turn and look at my dear uncle one more time.
A day and a half later, he passed away peacefully at home in the wee hours of the morning, his wife, two sons, and a granddaughter by his bedside.
We will never know for sure until we are in the presence of the Lord if my uncle accepted Jesus as his Savior. But for now, we will rest in God’s word:
“I know that [God] can do all things and that no purpose of [His] can be thwarted”
I burst into tears at the airline counter. My 96-year-old grandmother was dying. Having to make the 30-plus-hour trip from New Zealand to my hometown, I wasn’t sure I would make it before she passed away.
Crossing the Pacific, I pleaded with the Lord not to take her before I arrived, and to give her strength and peace.
“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped … And with my song I shall thank Him.”
Psalms 28:7
The LORD is my strength and shield. I trust him with all my heart.He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving.
OPEN VERSE IN BIBLE (nlt)
(NASB)
Because the LA control tower forgot the plane was on the tarmac, my four-hour layover evaporated to 45 minutes to gather my luggage, clear customs, transfer to the domestic terminal, and clear security.
Fighting tears, I estimated the line would take at least an hour to clear customs. I prayed. Immediately, an agent stepped in front of me and opened another line. In five minutes, I cleared customs and was making my way to the shuttle.
An agent walked up to me, asking where I was going. When I told her how little time I had to make the flight, she said, “Turn to the right when you get outside the door — and run!”
Because I knew my way around LAX, I thought she had misunderstood me, but I followed her directions. With sweat pouring down my back and forehead, I ran with my luggage and arrived huffing at the counter. The agent was so indignant that I was checking in less than 40 minutes before takeoff that she forgot to charge me for my luggage.
I took off running and praying. At a checkpoint, a woman in front of me said to the agent, “I’m a Star Alliance member.”
As I looked at the shorter line for members, I thought I’m a member too! I asked if the agent wanted to see my card, but she said, “Get in the members-only line.” I was through the line within minutes.
The gate was at the far end, so I ran — again. When I arrived, no one was in the waiting area except for an attendant. “Is the plane still here?” I said breathlessly.
“It leaves in two minutes.”
I was the last person to board.
Arriving in my hometown just before midnight, my lifelong friend and her father took me to the hospital, where my grandmother was awake. I felt blessed to finally be with her and could not stop thanking God.
I held my grandmother’s hand throughout the night; she slept for a few minutes and would wake and look at me. She affectionately tapped my cheek or nose.
During the day, I read Scripture to Grammy. Her roommate told me how much that had deeply touched her.
As I was brushing my grandmother’s hair, she chuckled. She’d always had a “spastic” voice, but I could usually understand her. That day I couldn’t, so I asked her to repeat what she’d said. One word came out clearly: Jesus.
Soon afterward, my grandmother passed peacefully from this life into the arms of Jesus. She was the last of eight siblings.
I flew into my husband’s arms at the airport. Although my grandmother had passed away, a part of her will always reside in our hearts and memories. I was thankful for safe travels and that God had been beside me every step of the way through a difficult journey.
