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50th Nursing Class Reunion

This past month I attended my 50th nursing class reunion in Lincoln, Nebraska. All I can say is—thank goodness for name tags! Most of these classmates I hadn’t seen since we walked down that aisle fifty years ago to receive our well-deserved diplomas.

Just as I had difficulty recognizing many, I caught several people sneaking glances at my name tag as well. Our physiques had matured, and many had gained beautiful manes of white and gray.

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Memories on Display

On display were our stylish blue-and-white school uniforms and our all-white graduation dress, modeled by mannequins. Thank goodness for mannequins too—I’m guessing few of us could serve as live models for those outfits now.

Lying on the table nearby were some of the worn books we had our noses in every day for two full years. Old photographs and a yearbook rounded out the display.

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Reminiscing Together

What a fun evening we had—reminiscing, catching up, and sharing nursing experiences from the past five decades. One of the event organizers asked how many of us still make beds with mitered corners. Hands shot up across the room.

As each person stood to share about their careers, families, and where they now lived, three of us huddled over the yearbook retrieved from the display table. Connie, sitting in the middle, flipped through the pages while Brenda and I leaned in. Together, we searched for the “young picture” of the person speaking, hoping to refresh our memories about who was really talking.

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God Never Forgets

We had our work cut out for us that evening—trying to remember faces, voices, and details about one another. But aren’t we fortunate that God never has to rely on a name tag to identify us? He knows everything about us.

My favorite Psalm (139) reminds us that He even knows our words before we speak them. Matthew 10:30 tells us that He knows the number of hairs on our heads. And Isaiah 49:16 says we are so important to Him that our names are written on the palm of His hand.

Unlike our struggles at the reunion, it doesn’t sound like He’s going to forget anything about us in the next fifty years.

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Until next time… keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

Last month I wrote about “Little Dean” and the anxieties his parents and grandparents are feeling over sending him to kindergarten as a non-verbal autistic student.

First, I want to thank those who said they were praying for him and his family. That means so much to us.

Second, I want to share what happened this past Sunday. I believe it was God’s way of speaking to my heart and encouraging me about Dean heading off to school and the peers he will encounter.

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Worship in the Park

Three times each summer, our church has Worship in the Park. This was one of those Sundays.

It’s a beautiful park with a brand-new bandstand, huge shade trees, and a lush carpet of green grass. Spearfish Creek runs along the west boundary. Everyone who comes to the service brings lawn chairs or blankets. From the bandstand, two to three hundred people scatter across the lawn like an open folding fan.

We found a spot near a large elm tree and set up our canvas chairs. More chairs and blankets began filling the grass—some people seeking shade, others choosing the warm sunshine.

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A Sermon on the Blanket

As we sang This Is My Father’s World, I glanced to my left. Sitting on a blanket about forty feet away was a young grade-school boy—maybe ten years old—with Down’s Syndrome.

Almost as if it had been arranged, I had a perfectly unobstructed view of him. No trees, chairs, or people blocked my line of sight. He looked serious, his mouth turned down as if he were deep in thought—or maybe sad.

Then something happened that changed everything.

A young girl—perhaps twelve years old (not a sibling)—plopped down on the blanket, directly facing him. She stretched out her arms and drew him into a long, gentle hug.

The boy seemed to relax, soaking in the love she offered. When she pulled back, she looked him in the eye and spoke. He nodded and smiled. Something she said had shifted his whole expression.

I nudged my husband and whispered, “Look how she’s relating to the special-needs boy.” He knew why this moment mattered so much to me.

The girl continued rubbing the boy’s shoulder while she spoke softly to him. It was compassion in its purest form—and it moved me deeply that it came from a heart so young.

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The Message That Stays

Pastor Jon’s sermon from the bandstand was wonderful, as his sermons always are. But honestly, it may not stay with me for long.

The one on the blanket, though—I will likely never forget. That sermon carried a message that was personal and unforgettable.

I thought of Little Dean and the children he will meet this year, and my heart was encouraged.

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God’s Gentle Reminders

God works in mysterious ways. I wonder if He delights in orchestrating these surprise moments.

I’m so glad I didn’t miss this one. I felt like the honored guest. How many others even noticed what brought me such peace?

God provided just what I needed—a special-needs boy and his compassionate friend.

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Until next month, keep on readin’, and I’ll keep on writin’.

At a very early age, my son Caleb became the voice for a special-needs boy in his kindergarten class who had Down syndrome. He befriended him on the playground, discouraged classmates from making fun of Justin, and encouraged them to be kind instead. Caleb made sure to sit next to Justin during art activities so he could help him with tasks that were challenging—like cutting with scissors. He was always there for Justin during school hours: looking after him, protecting him, and simply being a good friend. There was something special inside Caleb that helped him see beyond Justin’s differences.

Fast forward thirty-eight years, and now Caleb has a special-needs son of his own. His little boy, Dean, has autism and will be starting public school this fall. Our precious Little Dean is nonverbal but very active. His parents have many concerns about what this new environment will look like for him. Isn’t it in our nature to face the unknown with the worst possible thoughts?

When I asked Caleb what he feared most about sending Dean to school, he responded,

“That he’s going to get picked on, teased, beat up, and won’t be able to communicate any of it. I hate that—what a terrible thing for him.”

But God.

I’ve been praying that Dean will have a “Caleb” in his classroom. With the increasing prevalence of autism, I can easily imagine a classmate who has an autistic sibling at home. Maybe that child won’t be fazed by Dean’s unique behaviors like stimming or being nonverbal. Maybe they’ll feel led—just as Caleb did with Justin—to befriend Dean.

I’d like to extend an invitation for you to pray with us for Little Dean. In Matthew 18:20, Jesus says:

“When two of you get together on anything at all on earth and make a prayer of it, my Father in heaven goes into action. And when two or three of you are together because of Me, you can be sure that I’ll be there.” (The Message Bible)

Through this scripture—and many others—we know that God hears our prayers. He doesn’t just sit around. He goes into action. I can’t wait to see what He has planned for Little Dean’s new experience.

Until next time—keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

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FYI: Dean was named after his great-grandfather, Dean. Hence, I call him Little Dean.

According to the CDC, the estimated prevalence of autism among children in the United States in 2022 was 1 in 31. This is up from 1 in 150 in the year 2000. In 1960, the estimate was 1 in 2,500.

It was brought to my attention this week that God often individually customizes His approach to get our attention—especially when He’s hoping to lead us toward Him. For example, when He led the Magi to the Baby Jesus, He used a bright star because they were astrologers. When Paul preached in Ephesus (Acts 19), God worked through him by performing supernatural events. Many of the people in Ephesus were involved in occult practices and were naturally drawn to supernatural phenomena, whether from the demonic realm or from God.

Paul himself, before becoming a Christian, needed a colossal wake-up call. His primary goal in life was to persecute and kill Christians. What better way for Jesus to get his attention than to blind him for three days and personally speak to him? What an example of instantaneous salvation. Paul made a complete turnabout—never persecuting Christians again. Instead, he preached the gospel to thousands, bringing many to Christ.

I thought back to the means God used to influence me to move toward Him. It didn’t take me long to come up with the answer: friends! Being a relational kind of person, He knew there would be no better way than to surround me with friends who would influence me for Him. During my early days in nursing school, I became acquainted with a small group of Christian girls in my class—none of whom I had known previously. For reasons I didn’t understand then (but do now), I was drawn to them.

I began spending more and more time in their company. I was inspired that Sandy, Rose, and ZoAnne talked about Jesus as if He were their best friend. Before I knew it, I wanted that same deep relationship with Him. They became “my bright star” and led me to the Savior.

Stories like these impress upon me just how important each of us is to God—that He would custom design events for us. In Luke 12:7, Jesus tells us that we are so important to God that He even knows the number of hairs on our heads.

Could knowing how deeply He loves us—and how He customizes His approach to each of us—guide how we approach others with the Gospel? Maybe God could be introduced to a homeless person through the gift of a warm coat or a restaurant gift card. Perhaps the neighbor who’s a prominent businessman would respond best to the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14–30). And maybe the friendly waitress at the coffee shop could be introduced to Jesus by complimenting her for her cheerful, servant-hearted attitude—just like the one Jesus taught us to have.

This has given me something to think about this week: How can I custom design my gospel conversations?

Until next time… keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

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When I was very young, I was afraid of the dark—and of the monsters that lived under my bed. I had never seen them, but I might as well have; they were very real in my impressionable mind. I knew they couldn’t be huge creatures, because there was only about twelve inches of space between the floor and the bedframe. Still, I could scoot under there with ease to retrieve my vagrant socks, so they were probably bigger than me! I was convinced they were mean and ugly, with a savoring appetite for little girls with brown eyes, dark hair, and knobby knees.

Mom and Dad bought a little yellow plastic nightlight in the shape of a friendly bear—about the size of a honey bottle. They placed it on my dresser. Whenever I woke up, I could see that there were no ugly beasts standing over me with sharp incisors, a bib around their neck, and a fork in their hand.

The nightlight was helpful, but it didn’t stop me from performing my nightly ritual of always checking under the bed before jumping beneath the sheets.

I eventually outgrew that childish fear, but other fears crept in as I got older. The fear of being picked last for kickball at recess. The fear that my best friend would no longer like me if I didn’t go to camp with her. The fear of standing alone at the high school dance. The fear I wouldn’t make it into nursing school. Once I reached adulthood, there were other worries—would there be enough money at the end of the month to pay the rent, would this or that relationship last, would the call be good news or bad…

Worries and fears were devouring my joy faster than a cormorant swallows a fish. What could I do about it? Maybe it was just my character. But once I became a Christian, I learned that God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7). If this spirit of what seemed to be an unhealthy fear—always causing anxiety—is not from God, well… that means it must be coming from our enemy—Satan. I then learned there was something I could do about that. This is spiritual warfare, and I could fight back. James 4:7 tells us to resist the devil, and he will flee from you. I have been known to say out loud, “Get out of here, Satan, in the name of Jesus.” Sometimes I envision an angel kicking the demon—not only to the curb, but all the way down the street. (This gives me great satisfaction.)

I’d like to be able to proclaim that I am now completely worry-free and have no fears. Those irritations do show up from time to time—occasionally on a daily or weekly basis—but now I jump on them and use the tools I’ve been given through the Word of God. It’s a delightful experience to know Satan is hightailing it to who knows where—and who cares?

Until next time… keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.