Happy Heavenly Birthday Dad!

July 31, 2014July 31, 2021 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 4 Comments

My Father, George Redman Beyer, passed away last year on July 31. In honor of him, I would like to post here the words I spoke at his memorial service.

All you who knew George, whether it was for 5 minutes or fifty years, knew that he was very kind, calm, patient, slow, methodical, and very intelligent.

He loved history and could remember facts and figures with an almost photographic memory. Most of those official blue and yellow signs you see around the state of PA were written by my Dad. When I was little I couldn’t remember the name of the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, so I just told people that my Dad was a Historical Marker Maker. They gave me funny looks.

I got even stranger reactions when I told them that we were Quakers and went to Meeting instead of Church. Dad was always a man of peace. I almost never heard him criticize other people and I almost never saw him get angry.

In recent years, he had to bear with my five wild boys running around the house with nerf guns, squirt guns, and cap guns. Still he was very patient with them. He spent hour after hour after hour reading to all the grandchildren, snuggling on the sofa.

He answered question after question, read book after book. He rejoiced at the birth of every new grandchild and enjoyed them immensely.

This was an intense week for our family. Dad was sent to the emergency room on Monday with blood clots in his lungs. He stopped breathing and received CPR three times. When I saw him that evening, he was unconscious and the hospital was still trying to stabilize him. That night I prayed those deep, desperate prayers. I love it how God draws so near to me in times like these. I felt like He said to me, “This will end in death, but it is OK.” Then I saw a picture in my mind. I saw my dad as a young boy, running in the summer twilight.

He had perfect shalom, “perfect peace, nothing broken, and nothing missing.” He was running into the arms of God the Father. They both had such joy and excitement about being together.

On Tuesday the hospital thought they might be able to stabilize Dad and wake him up. Then we received a call that he had taken a turn for the worse, and we better get in there as soon as we could. Again I began praying in the car, and I was desperate with God. I said, “You can’t let him die if he’s not ready, if it is not his time. I haven’t done enough. I haven’t told him enough about you. I haven’t shown him enough love.” Again the sweet presence of God surrounded me and said, “It is already done. I have already done it all. All that is left is to trust me.”

So as we sat in Dad’s room watching him peacefully pass away, I again thought of him running into the arms of his Father. I heard the Father God say to him, “George, it doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do in your lifetime. I want you! You are my reward; You are my pearl of great price.”

Mom told me that Dad had recently attended a conference at Life Center and loved the song, “Abba” which means Daddy. (Click here to listen to the wonderful song.) We sang that song in Worship tonight. This confirmed to me that he had a longing in his heart to know God as his Daddy, and now his heart’s desire is fulfilled. He feels for the first time the full strength of the unconditional, all consuming love of the Father. Dad had loving parents and a loving family. Loving relationships are the joy of this life. But they are just the first morning rays of sunlight peaking over the horizon. Now he is standing in the brightness of noonday, and I am so happy for him!

I love how God gives us signs to explain what is happening in the unseen realm. He gave me a sign. My mom had transplanted a lot of flowers from her yard to into my yard. The irises and hyacinths have been blooming for many years now, but I have never seen the resurrection lily. I just thought it had died, and I had forgotten about it. But the day after my Dad died, I looked out my window and I saw it blooming!

I love you Dad!

This is My Mercy

July 21, 2014 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / Leave a comment

It was New Year’s Eve. Chris and I had just moved back to our hometown after living in Colorado for 8 years. We had the chance to celebrate the holiday with long time friends, friends we hadn’t celebrated with in ages. We were so excited about the opportunity to get out! We had left our five children with two babysitters, sisters who had agreed to spend the night with our little angels since we might be out very late. I was going to take the baby along, but at the last minute, I decided that he didn’t need to nurse anymore that night, and he could stay home and sleep with the others.

It was already very dark when our minivan drove up the onramp to the highway. Chris, in his typical impatient fashion, maneuvered quickly to the left of a slow merging vehicle. He swiftly crossed the right lane and went directly into the left lane, leaving the slower vehicle still chugging up the on ramp.

“You are not supposed to do that,” I thought to myself. “I know that I would never do that.” I am a more cautious driver.

In a split second, Chris was slamming on the brakes. A dark shape came into view right in front of us, and Chris screeched to a halt to avoid hitting it. I reached out my arm to brace myself. We came to a dead stop in the middle of the highway, a dark car parked in the left lane just inches in front of us. It had no lights on and had been totally hidden by the shadows of the bridge overhead.

BAM! SMASH! CRASH!

We were hit violently from behind and pushed forward into the abandoned car. We were sandwiched between two vehicles, our hearts beating fast and our minds trying to unravel what had just happened. We exited the vehicle, stunned to see that it was smashed up pretty good. A young teenager emerged from the car that had stuck us. She was visibly shaken. A man who had pulled off to the side of the road was yelling at us to get off the highway. Thank God for that man! I was so shocked over what had happened that I was standing still, surveying the wreckage, in the very blind spot that had swallowed an entire car. All of us could have been mowed down by a speeding tractor trailer.

We quickly ran to the shoulder and assessed the situation. Several cars now sat in the highway, smashed and inoperable. We were afraid to run back out to try and move them. We were afraid that other vehicles would pile into them and create a much bigger mess. Thankfully, the emergency vehicles arrived on the scene very quickly, and traffic was prevented from traveling that stretch of highway. It seemed that every police car, ambulance, and fire truck that was close by had come to the scene.

I stood staring into those red flashing lights cutting into the cold, dark night. I was trembling. This was supposed to be a holiday, a special night for celebrating with friends. Instead we were stranded on the side of the highway. Why had this happened? I was sure that if Chris hadn’t been in such a hurry, we could have avoided the abandoned vehicle. It must have been his fault, mustn’t it? Why had he done that? Why were we in the wrong place at the wrong time? Were we doing sometime wrong? Perhaps we should have never gone out driving on New Year’s Eve. Perhaps we had allowed some sin to muddy our thoughts, and we had strayed off the perfect path for our lives. All these thought were whirling around in my mind, thoughts that had become the byproduct of our years in Colorado.

We had been apart of an abusive church, a community of “Christians” who would look at any misfortune in your life and find a reason to blame you for it. Bad things weren’t supposed to happen to good people, were they? So if something bad happened to you, you must have done something to deserve it. You must have sowed bad seed and were now reaping the equally bad harvest.

“This is my mercy”

The still small voice broke into my thoughts.

“What? How can this be mercy?” I thought as I viewed our totaled van and a highway shut down because of us. Then my thoughts began to unwind and straighten out and become more like God’s thoughts. Accidents happen. That doesn’t make it our fault. No one was hurt. Every single person in every vehicle walked away with no injuries. The ambulances drove away empty. The fire trucks had no fires to put out. We were safe!

“Oh my goodness! I was going to bring the baby!”

I remembered that my sweet, little four-month old was sleeping peacefully at home. He had not been in the accident. He was safe! This was God’s mercy! He had not been punishing us for something. He had saved us and our infant son from something that could have been much, much worse. He was not waiting to bring retribution; He was guarding us and protecting us at all times!

It turns out that the van could not be repaired, and the insurance company paid us for it. We were able to take that payment and combine it with Chris’ pick-up truck and get a new van with no monthly payments. That was something we had been specifically praying for. We each also received $5,000 in free chiropractic care, something else we had been praying for. God used this destructive accident to bless us!

So the next time you are looking at a mangled mess that disrupts that flow and peace of your life, God could be saying…

This is my mercy!

I Love My Tribe

July 14, 2014 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 4 Comments

The music washes over me. It is not just melody and rhythm…it is the very atmosphere of heaven. The lights are bright, the stage is full of musicians, and I am surrounded by my tribe. Almost every Sunday morning I find myself here, in the sanctuary of Life Center and saturated with the swirling presence of God and humanity. There are so many worship leaders that share the stage, so many musicians that rotate from week to week. They are full of talent and resurrection life, and I love them all! They have birthed an abundance of CDs out of the overflow of their lives of praise.

I watch the senior pastors in the front row, boppin’ to the rockin’ music. They are in their sixties, but they enjoy the youthful expression and energy as much as anyone. They actually lead the rest of us in radical, “out of the box” thinking! They have served this church for over twenty years, and I love them! I see one of the younger worship leaders, passionately singing a song that he wrote; and I think about how I used to babysit him when he was a boy. I look over and see his parents in the front row, beloved pastors who raised me in the youth group; still loving, still serving, still standing for all that is true.

Some folks are out of their seats, dancing. Some are swaying to the music. Others are sitting with their eyes closed. Others are kneeling on the floor. My teenage daughter is up front, worshipping with her friends. I observe many gray heads in the crowd, faces lined with wisdom and love. I see parents holding their little ones. I see children twirling scarves and prancing on bare feet. Life is always bursting forth at Life Center. There are more pregnant women than I can keep track of, and I love them all! I long to be able to tell each one of them how gorgeous they are and how precious they are to God, carrying His little children of promise!

I notice women running to each other in joyful reunions, laughing and hugging. I see people spontaneously begin to pray for the person next to them, passion and concern on their faces. I see others exchanging gifts or notes.

It is time for the offering and one of the “newer” pastors takes the microphone. He and his family have become so precious to me. Every time I see him take the stage, I am alert with anticipation. I know that some stunning revelation will spill from his lips that will rock the way I see the world.

The music subsides and there are announcements of births and deaths; family business that herald joy and tears all at the same time. How we each know that thrill and that pain, and how we each long to share those with our brothers and sisters. I walk to the back of the sanctuary during the meet and greet time, and I am enveloped in a warm and healing hug by a beautiful black mama.

“Look at you! You’re beautiful! Just beautiful!” she always says to me with her eyes shining and her amazing, white smile blazing. She is the beauty! I wish I could describe the indescribable, how dark and lovely she is…but her beauty is so deep and so true, I am at a loss for words.

It is time for the message and another pastor comes up. He and his wife are treasures to me, having led countless youth events, missions trips and prayer times that I was apart of. We have even lived with them a couple of times. Some folks in the crowd are a little confused because he talks too fast, as though he has 4 hours worth of revelation to impart in 45 minutes. Chris and I are fluent in “speed talk” since we grew up under his tutelage, and we just chuckle to ourselves. In his message, he talks about a mission trip that he led 20 years ago. I was part of that trip, and how I cherish those memories!

After the service, I hug my dear and longtime friends. I greet friends I grew up with and friends who were in my wedding. I talk with my children’s pastor, who I went to school with. I see more recent friends, who have quickly taken residence in my heart. I identify new acquaintances as well. I notice many fresh faces and hope to call them my friends someday too. So many personalities, so many gifts, so many stories, so many ways that God reveals Himself to me; represented by these precious people.

“I love my tribe!” I always think to myself on a Sunday morning. The love wells up within me, along with pride. I love my tribe! There are children of God all over this earth, in different denominations, different countries, varying cultures and traditions. But I am so glad that my boundary lines have fallen here, at Life Center. I started coming to this church in 1989, when it was meeting in the old casket factory. My husband Chris started coming earlier than that, in 1985. We left for a time and moved to Colorado Springs. In the eight years we were there, we couldn’t put our roots down, no matter how hard we tried. Now we are back in our promised land, surrounded by family. How good it feels to watch our family tree grow tall and strong with a wide trunk and thick bark, an oak of righteousness, a planting for the display of His splendor.

How glorious it feels to let our roots descend into the rich and fertile soil of Central Pennsylvania! How refreshing to drink the deep, deep waters. How thirsty we had been for those waters!

There are wonderful people of God all over the world, but this family is mine…my clan…my tribe. I am so glad! How I love my tribe!

Oh, the Love of a Sibling!

July 12, 2014 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 6 Comments

It is such a gift to have siblings…lots of them! My firstborn was a girl, Areli. When she was 18 months, our second child, Cole, arrived. Areli took to him right away. She couldn’t say, “baby” but she could say “boo-boo.” Boo-Boo became his name for the next two years. Areli and Cole cannot remember life without each other or “our chuthers” as they used to say. They were always best friends, like peas and carrots. They still are.

Two years after Cole, Cadin came along. They were a happy trio, getting into trouble and playing pretend. Cadin was always his own person, however, having different tastes than his older brother.

Ashlyn was born 18 months later. Her development was very delayed because of a chromosomal abnormality. She didn’t crawl for a long time and didn’t sit up until she was almost two years old. She didn’t begin to stand and walk until she was nine. Her world until that time was on the floor. God provided three little boys to take turns sharing the floor with her. Chai was born when she was 18 months, Cooper two years later, and Calvin two years after that. Oh the fun fellowship they shared, exploring every inch of the space underneath things and “cleaning up” any crumbs that fell there.

Cooper and Calvin have a special bond because they share a room and a bunk bed. They are now 7 and 5, and they are hyper, little balls of energy. We call them C&C Music Factory. If I want a peaceful outing to the store, I must only take one of them along.

My children love each other! They never lack a friend to play with. It is true that sometimes they express hatred rather than love, hurting the other just for the sheer enjoyment of it and denying that they are related at all. But I know that when the immaturity of this season passes, they will be deep and earnest friends for the whole of their lives.

Each new baby was welcomed with such excitement and enthusiasm that we had to protect the vulnerable little thing from being loved on too much. It was so sweet to see a normally wild boy get quiet and still when it was his turn to hold the baby.

Areli was always a natural mother. She got to be present at the birth of four of her little brothers. She was enchanted with it all. Childbirth can be intense at times, but witnessing it only seemed to increase her love for babies and her desire to be a mom someday. When Calvin outgrew the newborn, eat every few hours at night stage, he slept in a crib in Areli’s room. She was so happy to have him there. She would change him and clothe him and snuggle with him. She would even comfort him if he cried during the night and she wouldn’t tell me about it until the morning. A sister like that is worth more that her weight in gold!

Calvin turned two, and no new baby arrived. Cooper, age 4 at this time, began talking to me about the fact that we really needed a baby. I told him to pray about it. He did! After a few more months had pasted, Cooper came to me exasperated.

“I prayed for a baby, but I don’t think God heard me! We don’t have a baby yet!”

I encouraged him to keep praying and that God knows the perfect time for everything. More prayer seemed to increase Cooper’s vision. Soon he was reporting to me that God had 10 babies for us, 5 boys and 5 girls! They were up in heaven, just waiting for God to send them down.

This seemed rather far fetched, so Daddy told him, “Perhaps you are talking about the children that you will have someday when you get married!” Cooper didn’t seem so sure.

Not long after that, Chris and I announced to the children that I indeed had another baby in my belly. Cheers erupted! They all wanted another baby to hold and snuggle and change and dress. They were all so excited, none more than Cooper.

“I hope it’s a boy!” he announced.

Since we already had 5 boys, the rest of us thought a girl would be nice. An ultrasound revealed that the baby was indeed….another boy! Cooper was overjoyed!

“Now we only need four more boys, and 5 more girls!”

I have always encouraged my children to pray to God and listen to His voice. Cooper had always been great at this, possessing that child-like faith in great measure. I didn’t want to tell him that he was not hearing God’s voice, because how did I know? In my own walk with God, His words were usually somewhat surprising to me when they came, interrupting my own thought with an altogether different message. I have found that His thoughts are truly not like our thoughts; that His ways are not like our ways. He is constantly trying to get us out of that box (or cage), encouraging us to jump off of that cliff, and teaching us to fly with Him above the logical and obvious.

So Cooper’s ambitious vision for brothers and sisters does seem like impossibility, considering my diminishing fertile years. We had seriously looked into adoption a few years back, but right now, that seems impossible as well. How do I feel about the fact that Cooper thinks I should give birth 9 more times, or have triplets 3 times, or have two more babies and adopt seven, or any number of other scenarios?

I know that God knows what He is doing and His ways are mysterious beyond my comprehension but far better than what I could ever imagine!

So I just say, “Keep praying Cooper…keep praying! You never know what God might do…for the love of a sibling!”

My Adventurous Husband with the Crazy, Impossible Dreams Might Just Be Right

July 3, 2014 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 3 Comments

My husband, Chris, is very different from me. In fact, he is quite the opposite. He is spontaneous and impatient, prone to making rash and risky decisions. He is also very driven. When he has a certain goal in mind, all else fades to the background as he plows through valleys and climbs over mountains to reach that goal. When he gets an idea in his head, it seems like an obsession to me. I am a steady and reliable creature of habit. I like to dwell, remain, and stay in my comfort zone. I feel no need to go trailblazing into unknown and possibly scary territory. To change my course is like trying to alter the flow of a river. I have found that trying to deter Chris from a goal is like trying to stop a freight train once it is barreling down the tracks. It is much easier to jump aboard and enjoy the ride!

We faced our first major financial decision as newlyweds. Our apartment had washer and dryer hookups, but we had no washer and dryer. We would spend hours at the Laundromat. Chris reasoned that if we could put our Laundromat money towards payments on our own washer and dryer, we would be much better off. I agreed, but when I saw the large price tag, I was terrified. We ended up in our car in the Sears parking discussing the pros and cons. The worry of making a bad decision brought me to tears. We ended up buying the brand-new, super-capacity Kenmore beauties, despite my abiding nervousness. Eighteen years, 6 moves, and eight children later, they are still washing 2-3 loads a day! Chris was totally right!

In 2006 we were renting a nice house on Market St where I found my Little Piece of Heaven. Sure, I wanted to move eventually, but I figured that God would bring that opportunity right to us at the proper time. But Chris was obsessed. He was unsatisfied with our living conditions and upset that our rent money was going into someone else’s pocket instead of building up equity for us. He talked to realtors. He got lists of homes sent to him every week on the internet. He kept finding houses that he wanted me to look at. The available four bedroom homes priced around $100,000 were not at all what I would call attractive or comfortable! I didn’t want to look at these homes, not to mention consider living in them. But I did it, because Chris asked me to. We even put offers on two of them. They had been on the market for a long time. We thought we could get a good deal, fix them up and then sell them for more…all in an effort to get closer to our real dream house. Both houses were snatched up right before our offers came in.

Chris didn’t give up, however. He talked to other realtors, looked at other houses, and kept viewing homes on the internet. None of the homes interested me at all. Basically, I had given up on owning a home. One day Chris came across a picture of an older home, shrouded in dark awnings and overgrown shrubbery. He set up a time to see it. He walked in the front door, took one look at the high ceilings and beautiful woodwork and thought, “This is it!”

There was just one mountain of a problem. It was more than twice what we could afford. He set up a second time to view the house and wanted me to come along. I so desperately wanted to refuse him, and I almost did. I didn’t want to go see another ugly house. I definitely didn’t want to go see a beautiful house, fall in love with it, and then have to face the reality that we could never afford it. But I did it, because Chris asked me to.

The house was built in 1924 and was in a beautiful neighborhood with tree lined streets. I toured the gorgeous home, loving every detail of it! I tried NOT to love it…but I couldn’t help it. I took a paper containing the specs of the home that included a tiny black and white picture of the exterior. In my mind, that dreary picture was a picture of my dream home. I placed the paper on top of my filing cabinet. Every time I passed by and caught a glimpse of that paper, I would pray that God would do a miracle and give us that house! Every time we passed the exit on the highway that would take us to the house, longing would fill my heart that someday that exit would lead to my home! Every night before bed, the children would pray and ask God to give them that house! Chris’ obsession had become a family obsession!

The realtor went to the owners with a crazy idea. Even though the house had only been on the market for two weeks, he urged them to consider a sellers agreement, where we would make payments to them directly and take over the mortgage in a few years. It seemed like an eternity before they responded…THAT THEY WOULD! Amazing miracle number one! Yet our soaring spirits sank a bit as we heard the terms. The monthly payment was way too much, and we had to come up with $10,000 upfront. Chris countered with $300 less per month. They accepted! Amazing miracle number two!

Time came to sign the paperwork, and we still had no money to put down. Chris continued to plow ahead, scaling that mountain and signing away! I was terrified and thought back to the washer and dryer purchase so long ago. How small that decision seemed compared to this one was! I sat with the realtor, the paperwork, and a kitchen timer in front of me. I was timing contractions that had been coming every twenty minutes for baby number six. I was about to have a baby, and here I was, facing one of the biggest decisions of my life! I wanted to call it all off, or have a conference like we did in our car in the Sears parking lot. I wanted to cry my heart out and beg Chris to back out of the whole thing!

Quietly a peace descended upon me, and my emotions stilled. My contractions stopped. I saw the hand of God moving heaven and earth. I saw that it was He who had put that obsession into my husband’s heart. I signed the paperwork and believed that God would work out the rest. Amazing miracle number three!

I didn’t have any more contractions for almost a week. My grandmother joyfully offered to give us the money we needed and a bit more! Amazing miracle number four! Chris’ mom flew in from Colorado in anticipation of the new baby’s arrival. That night my water broke, but there were no contractions. In the morning, we thought we would pass the hours by showing my mother-in-law our new home! It was a hot and humid day in August. I walked around my home, and I began to get contractions. They increased as I showed off my four large bedrooms and gigantic bathroom on the second floor. They increased even more as I went down to view my spacious and clean basement with shelves and shelves of storage space. Finally, we all gathered outside to return to our rental house. I leaned on the truck with one intense contraction. It was hard to escape the pain with heat emanating from the sun above and rising from the blacktop below. I thought, “What have I done, coming here while in labor? I need to get home!”

We arrived home in plenty of time to fill the baby pool in our bedroom and call the midwife. Our little Cooper was born a few hours later, healthy and happy! Some weeks after that, we began to move into our new home.

We are still in this home, paying the mortgage (our mortgage!) eight years later. That is the real miracle! We have weathered job losses, economic downturns, and debt reduction programs. We were close to foreclosure during the hard times, yet we are still here!

Three years ago Chris became obsessed with another goal, to become a business owner. He talked to a business broker and received emails about local businesses for sale. He read books about entrepreneurs and conversed with friends who were business owners.

“Oh brother,” I thought. “Here we go again!”

He inquired about a Signarama shop just blocks from our house. He went to visit with the owner and saw the shop. He was convinced that this was it. He wanted me to see it all and tell him what I thought. I really didn’t want to! But I did, because he asked me to.

When I saw the shop I thought, “This is definitely NOT it!” A sign shop, full of vinyl to make signs? How boring! I never had any interest in being a business owner, nor ever thought about making signs. Chris began the slow process of turning my course.

We talked with the regional VP of Signarama to learn more about the franchise. What emotions surfaced when I thought about this proposition; spending all we had plus going into debt to acquire a business? Terror! Pure fear! Fear of not having enough to pay our bills. Fear of heading towards foreclosure again! Fear of making a big whopper mess-up of a decision! Quietly peace descended upon me, and I heard the voice of God.

“Do not fear making mistakes. Mistakes aren’t as powerful as you think they are. You see them as huge giants that can rob you of your destiny. That is not true. Your mistakes cannot negate my promises or my power or my faithfulness in your life. I can cause all your mistakes to prosper and use them for good. In fact, your mistakes are your servants. Use them to learn about me, yourself, and your destiny. Use them to draw near to me. Do not fear making mistakes. Make all decisions in confidence and faith. I AM able to lead you and keep you in my perfect will. I AM faithful!”

So we took the plunge into business ownership. It has been harder than we had ever imagined. Some of my fears have come to pass, but I realized that they weren’t so bad after all. God is in control, and He is bringing us through this into the abundant prosperity that He has promised! Chris is learning to slow down his freight train to prayerfully consider my wisdom. I am learning that my adventurous husband with his crazy obsessions might just be tapping into the very heart of God!