CHRIST WAS LOVE

Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience.
I had cut back on nonessential obligations - extensive card writing, endless baking, decorating, and even overspending.. Yet still, I found myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of Christmas.
My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season for a six year old. For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's WinterPageant.
I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the production.
Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his Teacher, & she assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation.
All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to come then.
Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise. So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down.
Around the room I saw several other parents quietly scampering to their seats. As I waited, the students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song.
Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday as "Christmas," I didn't expect anything other than commercial entertainment songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer.
So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love," I was slightly taken aback by its bold title. Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads.
Those in the front row- center stage - held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song.
As the class would sing "C is for Christmas," a child would hold up the letter C. Then, "H is for Happy," and on and on, until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas Love."
The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her; a small, quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M" upside down - totally unaware her letter "M" appeared as a "W". The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little one's mistake.
But she had no idea they were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her "W". Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together.
A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen.
In that instant, we understood the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place. Why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.
For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear:
"C H R I S T W A S L O V E"
And, I believe, He still is.
Amazed in His presence....humbled by His love.
HAVE A BLESSED CHRISTMAS, love and prayer, sis katie.

Remember the Reason for this Season

>A young lady named Sally relates an experience she had in a seminary class,
>given by her teacher, Dr. Potter. She says that Dr. Potter was known for his
>elaborate object lessons.
>
> One particular day, Sally walked into the seminary and knew they
>were in for a fun day.
>
> On the wall was a big target and on a nearby table were many darts.
>Dr. Potter told the students to draw a picture of someone that they disliked
>or someone who had made them angry, and he would allow them to throw darts
>at the person's picture.
>
> Sally's friend drew a picture of who had stolen her boyfriend.
>Another friend drew a picture of his little brother. Sally drew a picture
>of a former friend, putting a great deal of detail into her drawing, even
>drawing pimples on the face. Sally was pleased with the overall effect she
>had achieved.
>
> The class lined up and began throwing darts. Some of the students
>threw their darts with such force that their targets were ripping apart.
>Sally looked forward to her turn, and was filled with disappointment when
>Dr. Potter, because of time limits, asked the students to return to their
>seats. As Sally sat thinking about how angry she was because she didn't
>have a chance to throw any darts at her target. Dr. Potter began removing
>the target from the wall.
>
> Underneath the target was a picture of Jesus. A hush fell over the
>room as each student viewed the mangled picture of Jesus; holes and jagged
>marks covered His face and His eyes were pierced.
>
> Dr. Potter said only these words.... "In as much as ye have done it
>unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me."
> Matthew 25:40.
>
> No other words were necessary; the tears filled eyes of the
>students focused only on the picture of Christ.
>

Bobby Decker

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!" My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true. Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" She snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car. "Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas. That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95. May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care....love and prayers, sis katie.

What Christmas should be about.......

Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this.
But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load.
Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood---the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"
You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked.
The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what? "Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt."
That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait.
When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked.
"Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy?
Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern. We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?"
"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp. "We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it.
She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children---sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too.
In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, "'May the Lord bless you,' I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, Whenever I saw any of the Jensen's, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.

~by Rian B. Anderson~

The Two Figures of Jesus

The Two Figures of Jesus

About a week before Christmas, Mom bought a new nativity scene. When She
unpacked it, she found two figures of the Baby Jesus. "Someone must Have
packed this wrong," mother said, counting out the figures. "We have One
Joseph, one Mary, three wise men, three shepherds, two lambs, a donkey,
a cow, an angel, and two babies. Oh, dear! I suppose some set down at
the store is missing a Baby Jesus because we have two." "You two run
back down to the store and tell the manager that we have an extra Jesus.
Tell him to put a sign on the remaining boxes saying that if a set is
missing a Baby Jesus, call 7126. Put on your warm coats, it's freezing
cold out there."

The manager of the store copied down mother's message, and the next time
We were in the store, we saw the cardboard sign that read, "If you're
missing Baby Jesus, call 7126." All week long we waited for someone to
call.

Surely, we thought, someone was missing that important figurine. Each
time the phone rang, mother would say, "I'll bet that's about Jesus."
But it never was.

Father tried to explain there are thousands of these scattered over The
country, and the figurine could be missing from a set in Florida or
Texas or California. Those packing mistakes happen all the time. He
suggested That she just put the extra Jesus back in the box and forget
about it.

"Put Baby Jesus back in the box?! What a terrible thing to do," said
mother. "Surely someone will call. We'll just keep the two of them
together in the manger until someone does." When no call had come by
5:00 on Christmas Eve, mother insisted that father "just run down to the
store" to see if there were any sets left. "You can see them right
through the window, over on the counter," she said. "If they are all
gone, I'll know someone is bound to call tonight." "Run down to the
store?" father thundered. "It's 15 below zero out there!" "Oh, daddy,
we'll go with you!" We began to put on our coats.

Father gave a long sigh and headed for the front closet. "I can't
believe I'm doing this," he muttered. We ran ahead as father reluctantly
walked out in The cold. Tommy got to the store first and pressed his
nose up to the store window. "They're all gone, Daddy," he shouted.
"Every set must be sold. Hooray! The mystery will be solved tonight!"
Father heard the news still a half block away and immediately turned on
his heel and headed back home. When we got back into the house, we
noticed that mother was gone and so was the extra Baby Jesus figurine.
"Someone must have called, and she went out to deliver the figurine,"
father reasoned, pulling off his boots.

"You kids get ready for bed while I wrap mother's present." Then the
phone rang. Father yelled "answer the phone and tell 'em we found a home
for Jesus." But it was mother calling with instructions for us to come
to 205 Chestnut Street immediately, and bring three blankets, a box of
cookies and Some milk.. "Now what has she gotten us into?" father
groaned as we Bundled up again. "205 Chestnut. Why that's across town.
Wrap that milk up good In the blankets, or it will turn to ice before we
get there. Why can't we all just get on with Christmas? It's probably 20
below out there now. And the wind is picking up. Of all the crazy things
to do on a night like this."

When we got to the house at 205 Chestnut Street, it was the darkest one
on the block. Only one tiny light burned in the living room, and the
moment we set foot on the porch steps, mother opened the door and
shouted, "They're here! Oh thank God you got here, Ray! You kids take
those blankets into the living room and wrap up the little ones on the
couch. I'll take the milk and cookies."

"Would you mind telling me what is going on, Ethel?" father asked. "We
have just walked through below zero weather with the wind in our faces
all the way."

"Never mind all that now," mother interrupted. "There is no heat in this
house, and this young mother is so upset, she doesn't know what to do.
Her husband walked out on her, and those poor little children will have
a very bleak Christmas, so don't you complain. I told her you could fix
that oil furnace in a jiffy. My mother strode off to the kitchen to warm
the milk while my brother and I wrapped up the five little children who
were huddled together on the couch. The children's mother explained to
my father that her husband had run off, taking bedding, clothing, and
almost every piece of furniture, but she had been doing all right until
the furnace broke down.

"I been doin' washin' an ironin' for people and cleanin' the five and
dime," she said. "I saw your number every day there, on those boxes on
the counter. When the furnace went out, that number kept goin' through
my mind. 7162, 7162 "Said on the box that if a person was missin' Jesus,
they should call you. That's how I knew you were good Christian people,
willin' to help folks. I figured that maybe you would help me, too. So I
stopped at the grocery store tonight, and I called your missus. I'm not
missin' Jesus, mister, because I sure love the Lord. But I am missin'
heat. I have no money to fix that furnace."

"Okay, okay," said father. "You've come to the right place. Now let's
see. You've got a little oil burner over there in the dining room.
Shouldn't be too hard to fix. Probably just a clogged flue. I'll look it
over, see what it needs." Mother came into the living room carrying a
plate of cookies and warm milk. As she set the cups down on the coffee
table, noticed the figure of Baby Jesus lying in the center of the
table. It was the only sign of Christmas in the house. The children
stared wide-eyed with wonder at the plate of cookies my mother set
before them. Father finally got the oil burner working but said, "You
need more oil. I'll make a few calls tonight and get some oil. Yes sir,
you came to the right place."

Father grinned. On the way home, father did not complain about the cold
weather and had barely set foot inside the door when he was on the
phone. "Ed, hey, how are ya, Ed? Yes, Merry Christmas to you, too. Say
Ed, we have kind of an unusual situation here. I know you've got that
pick-up truck. Do you still have some oil in that barrel on your truck?
You do?" By this time the rest of the family was pulling clothes out of
their closets and toys off of their shelves. It was long after our
bedtime when we were wrapping gifts. The pickup came. On it were chairs,
three lamps, blankets and gifts. Even though it was 30 below, father let
us ride along in the back of the truck.

No one ever did call about the missing figure in the nativity set, but
as I have grown older I realize that it wasn't a packing mistake after all.

Friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.....love and prayers, sis katie.

WOW!!!!!

Dear Children,

It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking My name out of the season. Maybe you've forgotten that I wasn't actually born during this time of the year and that it was some of you're predecessors who decided to celebrate My birthday on what was actually a time of pagan festival; although, I do appreciate being remembered anytime.

How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate My birth just, GET ALONG AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER.

Now, having said that let Me go on.

If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting My birth, then just get rid of a couple of Santas and snowmen and put in a small Nativity scene on your own front lawn. If all My followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town.

Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was I who made all trees. You can and may remember Me anytime you see any tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish: I actually spoke of that one in a teaching that explains who I am in relation to you and what each of our tasks are. If you have forgot that one, look at John 15:1-8.

If you want to give Me a present in remembrance of My birth here is my wish list. Choose something from it.

1. Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way My birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know, they tell Me all the time.

2. Visit someone in a nursing home. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

3. Instead of writing George W. complaining about the wording on the cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then follow up. It will be nice hearing from you again.

4. Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of My birth and why I came to live with you down here. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them.

5. Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.

6. Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile it could make the difference. Also, you might consider supporting the local Hot-Line: they talk with people like that every day.

7. Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a "Merry Christmas" that doesn't keep you from wishing them one. Then stop shopping there on Sunday. If the store didn't make so much money on that day they'd close and let their employees spend the day at home with their families.

8. If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary, especially one who takes My love and Good News to those who have never heard My name. You may already know someone like that.

9. Here's a good one. There are individuals and whole families in your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them (and I suspect you don't) buy some food and a few gifts and give them to the Marines, the Salvation Army or some other charity that believes in Me and they will make the delivery for you.

10. Finally if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to Me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in My presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine.

P.S. Don't forget; I am God and can take care of Myself. Just love Me and do what I have told you to do. I'll take care of all the rest. Check out the list above and get to work; time is short. I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court. And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those you love and, remember, I LOVE YOU.

I Refuse to be DISCOURAGED

I Refuse to be DISCOURAGED

I refuse to be discouraged,
To be sad, or to cry;
I refuse to be downhearted,
and here's the reason why...

I have a God who's mighty,
Who's sovereign and supreme;
I have a God who loves me,
and I am on His team.

He is all wise and powerful,
Jesus is His name;
Though everything is changeable,
My God remains the same.

My God knows all that's happening;
Beginning to the end,
His presence is my comfort,
He is my dearest friend.

When sickness comes to weaken me,
To bring my head down low,
I call upon my mighty God;
Into His arms I go.

When circumstances threaten
to rob me from my peace;
He draws me close unto His breast,
Where all my strivings cease.

And when my heart melts within me,
and weakness takes control;
He gathers me into His arms,
He soothes my heart and soul.

The great "I AM" is with me,
My life is in His hand,
The "Son of the Lord" is my hope,
It's in His strength I stand.

I refuse to be defeated,
My eyes are on my God;
He has promised to be with me,
as through this life I trod.

I'm looking past all my circumstances,
To Heaven's throne above;
My prayers have reached
the heart of God,
I'm resting in His love.

I give God thanks in everything,
My eyes are on His face;
The battle's His, the victory is mine;
He'll help me win the race.

love and prayers, sis katie