members of one body

I love the illustrations God gives us for what he says in the Word. Well, some of them. January 31st, I was with my grandson’s, Jude and Charlie at a local gym. It’s where the kids can play when it’s too cold outside. While we were there I saw the basketball hoops, I saw a couple basketballs and I asked myself, “Why not?”

So I grabbed the basketball and dribbled around making a shot. In! Remembering how much I used to like this I kept going and going and going. By the 5th basket I was wondering if any of the other parents had noticed my skills. The last shot had missed and came back with such force off the backboard it dislocated my little finger. I remember looking down at my hand and thinking, “that wasn’t like that before.”

Immediately I ran up to one of the fathers and asked if I could just put it back in place. Being in an emergency room with two little ones, was not on my agenda for that weekend together. The father responded, “I don’t know.”

The second person I approached was a nurse’s aid and she told me if I thought I could do it, I could try.

I prayed as I firmly took my finger and put it back in place. It didn’t freak me out or anything. I could still bend it and I thought it was the end of the story. I was wrong.

It was bothersome at times but then at church I showed it to a nurse who said, “that could be broken.”

Since I had broken this pinkie finger twice before I didn’t think it was broken, but decided to see a doctor. Xrays were taken and will find out the results.

I brought all this up for two reasons. 1) to let you know I can shoot baskets, though I think my career is over.

2) to share how this little appendage really matters.

It was then I saw the illustration God uses about the body and its many parts and how each member of the body is important. I miss being able to use my little finger in the way it was intended.

I feel miserable when it hurts. All the other fingers try to help out but they have their own parts to do. That little finger is very important. I know the other fingers are going to be so glad when the health is restored to their little member. They will probably all want to clap for joy, though I will have to discourage that.

Each of us is important. No matter what our role is, we all matter.

Following my injury my grandson, Jude said, “Gwamma, I don’t think you should play with the basketball.”

Looking down at my injury I just shook my head. I think he may be right.

anniversary dates

September 12th was an anniversary date. Actually, two dates in one.

Twenty-eight years ago on that date my sister Peggy Dianovsky disappeared. I was living in Colorado at the time and I received a letter saying the letter would shock me, she was getting a divorce. She was right, I was shocked. I dialed her number and picked it up and was upset. 

“I can’t talk now, he’s harassing me again.”

I told her I would pray and hung up. Later that night she called back and talked for about 20 minutes and then told me she had to go, she didn’t want to run up the bill. So I called her back,

“Okay, it’s my dime, now talk.”

She talked for an hour and told me what she had been going through. She found out when she called the police he willingly left and she was relieved.

“I wish I would have done it sooner.”

We talked at length and hung up telling each other we’d talk again soon and that we loved each other.

We never spoke again. Two days after that call I received word that she had disappeared and no one knew where.

Five years ago her “missing person” case was changed to a possible homicide case. He husband was charged with her murder. A long ten days later we sat in a deathly quiet courtroom as the judge pronounced him, 

“Not guilty.”

We sat frozen watching her smiling husband receive high fives from family members.

That was one anniversary.

Thirty-eight years ago I got a ride home from a friend after a Bible study. I listened intently as this housewife shared why Jesus came to earth. On that rainy night on my way home I made a decision that would effect my eternity. I trusted Christ as my savior.

I have to say each September 12th these two events vie for my attention. For years I forgot about becoming a christian on that date and instead was overwhelmed by the events of my sister.

I am so thankful that my sister also knew the Lord. One day I will sit and we’ll talk non-stop like we used to. 

Both of those events are important, but one outshines the other.

We don’t know where my sister’s body is. We may never know. But I know she is in heaven with our savior.

I don’t know all the details of what happened to her, but I know God was with her. He promises those who know him that he will never leave them or forsake them. 

I remember one time when I was so distraught at what her last moments could have been like. It was in that darkness God whispered to me words that gave me hope.

“Anne, I was with her.”

I believe that with my whole heart.

It’s funny. Two anniversary dates and God was there for both of them. 

Now I can look at September 12th differently. No longer do I have to dread it and try to make it through. I simply have to be still and remember that He is God.