Childhood memories

     I was 7 or 8 years old, sitting in a pew in a little brethren chapel in Indiana, right next to my grandpa.  We were there for the communion service and different ones were praying, sharing from the word, or calling out a hymn to sing.  My favorite hymn was "Old Rugged Cross"; so, I called out the name and number during a quiet lull.  The awkward silence that followed, as no one rustled through the hymn book pages or started off the first note, hung in the air.  After some long minutes passed, someone else moved on with prayer or sharing, and I sat squirming, flushed and uncomfortable.  Later, my grandfather rebuked me, not unkindly, for speaking up in a service when that was only for men.  Oops.  I shrunk back embarrassed, wondering why the hymn I had chosen wasn't acceptable.
   I only have three stark memories of my grandfather, each a rebuke or negative feedback.  I picked some raspberries that weren't quite ripe.  I wanted to try a little ketchup on my mac-n-cheese like grandpa had.  It got smothered all over my mac-n-cheese, and I was not a fan but had to eat it all just the same.  I don't consider these traumatizing events, by any means, but it's funny that my memory has held on to them for 30 years, give or take.  My soul still kinda shrinks back to think of them, but I humbly acknowledge that I've seen that same soul shrinking feeling on the faces and in the eyes of my own children when I have come down too hard, lectured too long or too sternly.  I laid awake last night wondering what memories my children will carry and wanting desperately for them to remember the fun we had, the compassion of my responses to their mistakes and struggles, the tenderness that I demonstrated...
    In church last Sunday, the preaching was on the gifts of the Spirit and how God speaks to and through us. During prayer, I had a vision of each of my children as young olive trees in planters lined up together in my house.  I was their caretaker.  (Ps 128:3b ...your children will be like olive shoots around your table. and Psalm 144:12
Let our sons in their youth be as grown-up plants, And our daughters as corner pillars fashioned as for a palace;) If I prune them too harshly, water them with the Word and with life-giving words and nutrients of encouragement infrequently, neglect to set them under the rays of the Son, they will wither and fade, struggle and either die in their souls or become roughly independent in their striving to survive, to hang on. However, if a wayward  branch grows out and I tenderly redirect and prune as needed, cultivating growth toward the SON, water and refresh and tenderly care for them, they will thrive and grow into glorious, fruitful trees that bless nations.  Pray for me.  I so much want to be this kind of cultivator.  So, in the process of the Great Pruner still working on me, I want to mimic His tender care so that my children thrive, and not wither under harsh words or undertones, too little nurturing in life-giving WORDS or lack of consistent, immediate correction - before the branch gets bent or hardened in a wayward direction. And in this process, I will cling to and embrace the Cross He gives with joy for the beauty it creates.  How many times have these words comforted and called to me as I cling through pain or trial and rejoice in the beauty it produces through times of refreshment and rest.


The Old Rugged Cross
Brad Paisley

On a hill far away, stood an old rugged Cross
The emblem of suff'ring and shame
And I love that old Cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain

Chorus:
So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down
I will cling to the old rugged Cross
And exchange it some day for a crown

Oh, that old rugged Cross so despised by the world
Has a wondrous attraction for me
For the dear Lamb of God, left his Glory above
To bear it to dark Calvary

In the old rugged Cross, stain'd with blood so divine
A wondrous beauty I see
For the dear Lamb of God, left his Glory above
To pardon and sanctify me

To the old rugged Cross, I will ever be true
Its shame and reproach gladly bear
Then He'll call me some day to my home far away
Where his glory forever I'll share


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m75wMi3WYv8

Story behind the hymn
http://www.lifeway.com/Article/the-history-behind-the-old-rugged-cross-hymn-george-bennard-revival