little hands

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. We'd just left church and were headed to my grandmother's house to eat lunch. Seester came out of the house to meet us as I unloaded kiddos. MM was wearing a new pair of shoes, and as any girly-girl would be, she was proud and excited to show them off.  As I put her down in front of me, she went to point her toe. To keep her balance, she reached over and put her hand on the van just as the automatic "magic door" closed and latched. On her little hand and fingers. Standing right behind her, I saw it all happen in slow motion and couldn't seem to get the door open fast enough. When the door opened, I held a sweet little hand that was mangled and black with grease. Some of the skin had been pinched and was pulling off. She cried. I cried. My first thought was that surely something had been broken. I immediately picked her up and put her right back into her carseat so I could zoom to an emergi-care, but when I did so, I started pleading with her to wiggle her fingers. Please Mary Martin, please wiggle your fingers. I know it hurts, but please try. Show Mommy that you can do it. Any of them. Just wiggle. Please, baby. Of course, the whole time I was pleading with her, I was also pleading with God that she could move them. Please let nothing be broken.

It seemed to take forever, but after what was probably only 2-3 minutes, she began to move her hand. And wiggle a finger. And then another.

I took her inside where seester had made an icepack and held it on her hand until she calmed down. What had seemed so grim only moments before was now clearly not so bad.

Fast-forward to last night.

We were eating dinner with my in-laws, and I recounted the story of the smooshed hand and fingers and we looked at sweet little MM's hand, and ya know what? We couldn't find a trace of 'hurt'. Not a bit. I couldn't even see the spots where the skin had been pulled off just two days earlier. Nothing. Only a little toddler who was wondering why I was holding her hand and keeping her from eating.

And then it hit me.

God removes our scars. Just like that. If we ask him to heal a hurt, emotionally, He can do it. In fact, He's all about the business of healing hurts.

Did you know that?

He's totally laid it on my heart today to share this with you, and he used my baby girl's hands to make it clear to me. He can heal your hurt. He can remove your scars. Whatever may have happened in the past, however awful it may have been, He'll hold your hand and get you through it. He's waiting for you to reach out and call on Him. He wants to help. He's there.

He's always there.

He can wipe away tears. He can dissolve scars. He can remove hurt.

He can.

And He will.

He can even get you to a place in your life where you won't be able to remember the awfulness. The memories may still be there, but God brings peace so full and abundant that it covers hurt.

Maybe some of you are hurting. Maybe you have scars. Maybe God is leading me to type this just for you.

Do you know Him?

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever." Rev 21:4

It happened on a Sunday

A long time ago, in a land far away,

a man named Jesus rode into town on a donkey.

Some of the people in the town were extremely happy that he was there, and they threw their coats on the ground and waved branches as he rode by, shouting,

"Hosana! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!"

They raised their hands and continued shouting praises as He rode by.

But not all of the people were glad He was there.

Some of them simply stood and watched.

 And waited.

Jesus spent the next few days teaching the people of this town about His Father in Heaven. He talked to large crowds and He talked to small crowds. He taught the people until the time came one night for them to have a very important supper.

He gathered with his 12 closest friends and they ate bread together,

and also drank together.

After supper, Jesus asked a few of his friends to go with Him to pray.

It was late, and they were all tired, but Jesus had a lot on His mind and needed to talk to God.

Soon, Jesus friends that had gone with Him fell fast asleep, and Jesus was left alone.

Praying.

One of Jesus friends brought some bad guys into the garden as He prayed.

They came to arrest Him, even though he'd never done anything wrong.

They accused Jesus of telling lies because they did not believe Him to be the Son of God.

They sentenced Him to death.

They beat Him.

Spit on Him.

Laughed at Him.

They found vines full of thorns, made a crown out of them, and placed it on His head.

They made Him climb a hill,

carrying a cross on His back.

They drove huge spikes into His arms to hold Him on that cross.

A few of the bad guys even fought over the robe He'd been wearing.

They pierced His side with a spear, causing blood and water to pour out.

Jesus died on that cross.

A man named Joseph took Jesus body down from the cross,

wrapped it in white cloth,

and with the help of some friends,

he carried Jesus body to a tomb.

They placed Him inside,



and rolled a large stone in front of the entrance.







The next morning, some girls were going to the tomb to place perfumes around Jesus body. As they came to the entrance where the stone should be, they realized it had been moved.

An angel was there instead.

They were scared, but the angel told them not to be afraid-

they were just looking for Jesus in the wrong place.

"He's not here- He's alive!

Now go! Go tell His friends that Jesus is alive.

He rose from the dead, just like He said He would."

And those girls?

Well, they ran.

They ran because they had such good news to share.

They ran as fast as their feet would go.

They ran because on Sunday,

Jesus rose from the dead.

And that, my friends, is news worth sharing.



well hello Kevin McAllister...

my family of 5 sat down tonight and did something together for the first time...

we watched McCauley Culkin run around the streets of NYC and terrorize a couple of hoodlums.

Oliver cackled.

LOVED watching him watch one of his daddy's favorite movies for the first time.

Eliza felt bad for the robbers.

She said, "uh-oh" each and every time they got hurt.

Which was quite often.

Maybe we can make this a yearly thing.

Who knows?

Are YOU doing anything special this Christmas for the first time?

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And while Santa will be delivering a few gifts in a couple days,  he is not why the Mathews will be celebrating.

A babe in a manger is the star of the show.

A babe who came to earth just like us.

Who showed us the way to His Father,

and then died for us.

Because it was the only way.

That Man is why we'll be celebrating.

Not a fat guy in a red suit.

Jesus is the reason.

Merry Christmas to you, friends.

God Bless