Love

Unopened Letters

Martha Brehm / Big Stories, Encouraging, Love, Unopened letters / 12 Comments

November 4, 2018

This Uncommon Story is the first where the person I am writing about will most likely choose to remain anonymous. But actually that flows into the story perfectly. That’s because this story is about things that don’t come out in the open – things hidden away, never read, never spoken, never done. Mainly this is a story about unopened letters.

The story begins with me in a restaurant having lunch with a friend. As we visited and ate, she began to tell me about a man in whose home she was working. Being in the health care profession, she never discussed his medical issues, or for that matter, even his name. But she did mention that he was looking for meaning beyond the wealth and power we are all pushed toward in this culture. Intrigued by what she was saying, I offered to come to the house and talk with him about trying to discover some answers. My friend smiled and responded that was unlikely. Nevertheless, she agreed she would mention it to him when she saw him next.

Weeks later, I was shocked when my friend relayed to me that her client was interested. He gave his consent to letting me know his name and we set up a time to visit him at his home. In the interval, I tossed around some different ways to seek answers to some of the complicated questions about life. As a starter, looking at what other wise people had to say about the subject seemed like a good idea. One of the world’s best-known commentators on life was Jesus, so I came up with various ways our threesome might take a look at what he had to say.

When the three of us met, introductions were made and we sat around a small kitchen table. Thinking back, our small group consisted of pretty different people. But the truth is, no matter who we are, we’re all looking for answers to a lot of the same questions. I think finding the answers often comes down to a willingness to open up to other people as well as to ourselves. We have to be willing to admit that we’re searching, to confess that we don’t have all the answers and not be afraid to look for those answers. That takes revealing a part of ourselves that’s usually hidden, and that can be a very difficult thing…..

After tossing around different options, the three of us landed on reading the book of Matthew. Some might wonder why we would even open up a Bible to look for answers. After all, there are people who doubt it’s accuracy and relevance. That in itself is a lengthy discussion and for the most part one I’ll leave for another day. I will however, have some links following the music video at the end of the story for those who are interested. But there is no doubt, that Jesus was a real person and that he made such a profound impact on the world that we are still talking about him today. That in itself is a pretty good reason to take a look at what he had to say about life.

Around the third time we met, a most unusual thing happened. As I put together ideas for the visit, one particular thought kept coming to mind. I kept thinking about a letter. I’m not sure why, but the picture of a letter that was never read kept coming to mind. I thought about what it would be like to write to someone you loved, I mean really loved, hoping that what you told them caused them to love you back. How would you feel if later you found out, they had never even read the letter.

So many things left unsaid…….

And so many things said but never heard.

And the world is a sadder place because of it.

Those thoughts echoed in my mind as I headed off to meet with my friends. The warm breeze blew across my face in the car while the letter lingered on my mind. When I arrived the three of us found our chairs at the round kitchen table where we usually sat. Although the room was spacious, the seating arrangement was intimate. As we began to open up our Bibles to the book of Matthew, I decided to use the idea of the letter that had been floating around in my head all afternoon.

“The letter we are opening from Matthew,” I explained, “was intended to tell us how much we are loved.” Since Matthew (and Mark, Luke, John, Paul and the lot of them for that matter) couldn’t tell us face to face, they wrote letters to people they loved to tell them exactly that – that they were loved. Not just by them, but by Jesus. Ultimately, writing that message cost most of them their lives. But the message in the letters was worth it – because love always is.

Although the men physically wrote those letters themselves, it was Jesus working in and through them as their fingers penned those words. The things they had heard him say so many times came rushing back and ideas formed and thoughts coalesced as they wrote. God has a way of pulling things together. It is, in the end, His letter and His story. “Knowing that,” I said, “I’m sure God’s heart must break when his letter to us remains unopened.

As the words finished rolling off my tongue, I looked at the gentleman sitting with me at the table. He had an odd sort of look on his face, appearing to be a combination of surprise and sadness with a hint of reflection. Not quite knowing what to say, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

As his eyes met mine, he said, “I don’t think you know this, but I had a daughter who died. One Valentine’s Day she placed a letter on my desk before she went out for the evening. She never came home. That letter remained on my desk for such a long time. I couldn’t open it.”

He was right. I hadn’t known. If I had, I feel quite sure I would have never used the illustration of an unopened letter. There was someone, however, who did know. The same God, working in and through people centuries ago writing the letters in your Bible, is still working in and through people today. He still has the same message. He loves you with a love that has no bounds. He’ll do whatever it takes to get your attention.

That day He used the letter illustration to get the undivided attention of the gentleman at the table. That man knew from personal experience what it was like to have an unopened letter from someone who loves you. You may have one too. I imagine somewhere close to you is a set of beautiful letters filled with the news of how much you are loved…the truth that you can be forgiven….and the hope that life has real meaning. Don’t leave this world having never read those letters.

So stop for just a minute from the business of today and wake up from your slumber of assuming there will always be another tomorrow. For all the things hidden away, never read, never spoken, never done – it’s time to bring them out into the open. There is so much left unsaid in this world and so many things left undone. So many people talking with so few people listening. May each of us truly listen to the people we love before they’re gone. And here’s to finding the courage to let our hearts speak the words we long to say. Here’s to opening letters.

So many things left unsaid……

And so many things said but never heard.

It’s time to hear them. It’s time to say them.

It’s time to come out of the darkness and light up the world.

Carpe Diem

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“Then Jesus asked them, “Would anyone light a lamp and then put it under a basket or under a bed? Of course not! A lamp is placed on a stand, where its light will shine. For everything that is hidden will eventually be brought into the open, and every secret will be brought to light.” Mark 4:21-22 NLT

“Your very lives are a letter that anyone can read by just looking at you. Christ himself wrote it – not with ink, but with God’s living Spirit; not chiseled into stone, but carved into human lives – and we publish it. We couldn’t be more sure of ourselves in this – that you, written by Christ himself for God, are our letter of recommendation. We wouldn’t think of writing this kind of letter about ourselves. Only God can write such a letter.” 2 Cor 3:3-5 Msg

“Don’t be intimidated. Eventually everything is going to be out in the open, and everyone will know how things really are. So don’t hesitate to go public now.” Matthew 10:26 Msg

“Nothing in all the world can be hidden from God. Everything is clear and lies open before him, and to him we must explain the way we have lived. Hebrews 4:13 NCV

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Links about the reliability and accuracy of the New Testament:

Josh McDowell: “Testing the Historical Reliabil ity of the New Testament”

The Gospel Coalition: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/justin-taylor/an-interview-with-daniel-b-wallace-on-the-new-testament-manuscripts/

Part One: Examining the Record begins 5 minutes into the video

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For the pictures to Unopened Letters, head to the Picture Page!

Check out these two Pinterest Pins for Unopened Letters as well as others. Click here!

Don’t miss the songs!

bride and her father about to walk down the aisle

A Father’s Love

Martha Brehm / Big Stories, Father, Inspirational Story, Love / 28 Comments

January 31, 2018

The closer something is to your heart, the more difficult it is to tell the story. Perhaps that is because those memories are held and treasured in a place where love guards the door. For that reason, this may be a difficult story to tell because this particular story is about someone I love very much. It is about my father. No one had a greater impact on my life then he did. Dad would be turning 97 on the 20th of January and I am turning 59 tomorrow on the 15th. Since we shared January as our birthday month, it seemed like the perfect time to share his story. It is a story about life and death and life.

LIFE – My father’s name was John Richard Smithson. His physical description would be average height, slender, with dark hair and blue eyes. He loved history, geography and politics and was the best person possible to have on your team for Trivial Pursuit. He grew up in a small town during the depression and was an only child. He didn’t invest much effort on school work, but managed to graduate from junior college. His father died when he was 19, preventing Dad from pursuing any further college courses. The finances just weren’t there. Soon after, the war broke out and he joined the Navy where he was first a navigator and then a pilot.

When the war ended, he finished college on the GI Bill, then completed pharmacy school and began working at a small pharmacy in his old hometown. Just as life seemed to be settling down, he came to the conclusion that what he really wanted to be was a doctor. So Dad took a few needed courses and mailed off his application to medical school. Back then, there was an age limit which you couldn’t exceed to be accepted to the Oklahoma College of Medicine. He was on the brink of being too old and only had one opportunity to apply.

Dad didn’t get accepted that year, but they did put him on what was called the “alternate list”. An alternate would only be able to attend medical school if another student declined their initially offered spot. No one declined, but even years later my father marveled at the hand of fate that year. For some reason, the Oklahoma State Legislators voted additional funds to enlarge the class size of the medical school. Soon after, he was notified that he would be part of the upcoming class of 1955. He never forgot or stopped appreciating the fact that he somehow managed to get into that medical school class. Even after over 50 years of general practice, that small town boy who considered himself nothing special, was amazed that he was fortunate enough to be a physician. He just thought of himself as lucky. I believe it was providence, along with some humility on my father’s part.

Funny and kind are two words that described my dad. I would also say my father was competitive, which would apply to everyone in my family. From the time I was little, we played games. Not just any games, but games where someone won and the rest lost. With brothers who were 6 and 12 years older than me, it wasn’t all that easy to win. But Dad always tried hard to level the playing field and give me the chance to not only compete, but sometimes even win. Whether he was going to my softball games in grade school or taking home-movies of my cheerleading squad at football games (which embarrassed me beyond words), he was always cheering me on from the sidelines.

As a junior in college, I decided to apply to medical school. Doing well on tests had not been difficult for me so I didn’t bother studying for the Medical College Admissions Test at all. The evening prior, I stayed out socializing till two in the morning, arose at six and went to take the test. It was not my best performance by any means. Since I had made the decision late in the year, there was no time to retake it. In fact, despite a 3.78 grade point average and numerous college honors, I received a big fat “NO” from the two medical schools I applied at. Each one asked what happened on the MCAT in the interview. I had no good answer for them other than, “I just didn’t do well that day.” That response wasn’t good enough for either one of the schools.

I am more than aware of the numerous things my parents could have said in response to my situation. But a week after my final med school rejection, I received a letter in the mail from my dad. He said he was sorry to hear of “the turn of events” but that he was proud of my college record and the numerous things I had achieved. Then he went on to recount situations in his life, as well as the lives of my two brothers, where defeat made success seem unlikely, yet they had overcome. At the bottom of his letter was a quote by Theodore Roosevelt, which he had held onto. It captured the thought of how, ultimately, the outcome of a dark disappointment could be viewed.

“It is not the critic that counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.” As I finished reading those words, a defining moment in my life took place. My father had taught me the valuable lesson that I could fail and still be valued, still be respected, and still be loved.

DEATH – One evening, I received a call from Dad. He said in a matter-of-fact way, that he had done some lab tests on himself and it looked as though his kidneys were failing. After going through my mother’s death over 15 years earlier, he didn’t want to go through any big medical workups over something that couldn’t be changed. On the following Father’s Day, I bought him a Hallmark book that asked a question on the top of each page about his life. Dad loved to read and was a wonderful writer so he happily took on the journaling request. He had elected to just start at the beginning of his life and write the things he thought were important.

The months passed and as his health deteriorated, Dad elected to do dialysis. The nurses at the dialysis unit were beyond sweet to him and I will always be thankful for their kind care. That gratitude extends to the numerous friends and patients (many were both) who brought him meals, checked on him, and included him in their lives. Once when I was home with him, I asked him how the Father’s Day book was coming. Dad’s response was a little surprising to me.

He said that it had given him insight and that the more he wrote, the clearer things became for him. As he worked on recording the events, he began to see how they all interconnected and built on each other. For the first time he said he could see God’s hand at each and every step along the way, opening one door and closing others. That was a pretty novel thing for him to say because we didn’t really talk much about God when I was growing up. We went to church mainly on Christmas and Easter and I never saw anyone reading a Bible or praying much at our house. We would have said we were Christians, but I don’t think that was accurate. He once told me years later, he had thought religion was a joke until mom died. After that, he didn’t think it was a joke anymore. And now his own death loomed close at hand. Which leads us to the heart of the story.

LIFE – Even after a golden anniversary of practicing medicine, Dad still continued to see occasional patients up until the week he died. Through good times and hard times, his office was still his favorite place to be. And I believe he gave other people life, or at least better lives.

One evening, he began sharing some of the highlights of his own life with me. We had stayed up late, which he loved to do, watching a movie. When the show ended, I was exhausted and ready to head to bed. Dad laid down on the couch and pulled a blanket up, snuggling it around his neck. His eyes were mostly closed when I went over to give him a kiss goodnight. When I sat down beside him and whispered goodnight, he began softly talking. At first I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or if he was talking in his sleep. It was like he was narrating a movie of his life that was playing in his mind. He talked about specific things that happened all through his life, very much like the Father’s Day book he was writing for me.

As he neared the end, Dad paused and a sigh passed through his lips. Then he said with sadness, “I have some regrets.” He named a few things, and at the time, I remember thinking to myself, “I’m not sure I really want to be here for this.” But I am so glad I was. Because sometimes the ugly only serves to make the good more beautiful. As he finished talking about one of his regrets, Dad immediately followed it with a statement that seemed to whisk it all away. “But I heard Reverend Scott say, that because of what Jesus did on the cross, my sins are forgiven – in the past, and the present and the future. And when he said that, it made sense to me, and I believe it to be true.” He stopped talking after that and drifted off to sleep with a calm that settled over him.

As I went up to bed, it struck me how simple and short the Gospel can really be. My father had expressed it in a few short words. Nothing fancy or difficult, but still profound. Two days later, he died. But not really. Because the life that is in him doesn’t end. Over 2,000 years ago, Jesus asked Martha a question about death. He said to her,”I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” Martha’s response was, “Yes.” My response is the same. Because of the Gospel, death is swallowed up in victory and the mortal become immortal.

As the years have moved quickly by, the appreciation for the things my father taught me has grown. Most importantly, he showed me how to love well. In fact, it was easy for me to comprehend a God who loved unconditionally because I had known what that was like. The Scripture that says, “We love because He first loved us,” makes perfect sense to me. But for those of you who didn’t grow up with a father like that, I want you to know that you really do have one. He’s always loved you. He always will. Just look up and you’ll find Him.

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Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous, it does not brag, and it is not proud. Love is not rude, is not selfish, and does not get upset with others. Love does not count up wrongs that have been done. Love takes no pleasure in evil but rejoices over the truth. Love patiently accepts all things. It always trusts, always hopes, and always endures. Love never ends. 1 Cor 13:4-8a

I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor ruling spirits, nothing now, nothing in the future, no powers, nothing above us, nothing below us, nor anything else in the whole world will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39

So this body that can be destroyed will clothe itself with that which can never be destroyed, and this body that dies will clothe itself with that which can never die. When this happens, this Scripture will be made true: “Death is destroyed forever in victory.” 1 Cor 15:54

But God shows his great love for us in this way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners. Romans 5:8

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Check out the Pinterest Pins for “A Father’s Love” by clicking here.

You can find the pictures of Dad, my family and other fun things on the Picture Page by clicking here.