read to feed the soul

Written by FBJ Women for Women

by: Camille Anding

An Icy Death Threat

  “But I trust in You, O Lord; I say, ‘You are my God.’ My times are in Your hand.”

 Psalm 31:14-15

There’s a mental landmark along Highway 30 between Oxford and New Albany that Othel and I will always remember. It was a 20° early Sunday morning when we were on our way to a visit to church with our children. The fields were frosty white and the highway abandoned

As we hit the straightaway along some large sections of farmland, Othel and I gasped. A pickup truck was overturned in the ditch to our right, and a cloud of steam and smoke billowed from it. Othel hit his brakes and pulled off the highway. We saw a body lying in the frozen field three car lengths from the truck.

Othel sped back onto the highway to a nearby house and shouted to the occupants to call 911. He squealed out of the drive back to the accident. The highway was still deathly quiet. Othel rushed from our vehicle across the ditch to the body. It was a young college student, semiconscious and groaning in pain. Othel grabbed a coat from his truck and covered him. With other clothes, he tried to cushion his body from the frozen mattress of earth. Then he knelt down beside him and told him help was on the way. The wait for the ambulance seemed endless, but Othel continued to assure the young man with his presence.

Last week Othel received a Thanksgiving card from the young man’s family, similar to the one he gets from them each Thanksgiving. They continue to express their gratitude to Othel for stopping, for getting help, and for staying by his side. They thank God for their son’s life being spared in the accident and for Othel’s timely first aid in the icy temperatures.

As we mainstream into the Christmas season I think of what Christ’s birth mean to mankind, and my heart is filled with thanksgiving. He came as a gift to all who would receive Him. What an enormous love and sacrifice!

Too bad the world tends to celebrate this great gift just during the Christmas holidays and with little thought of its true significance. Because of His coming to earth with His salvation plan, we need to express thanksgiving on a daily basis.  

Each year in Othel’s card those parents say, “Thank you for staying with our son.” That was just a tiny picture of what God did for us on that night in Bethlehem. He sent Jesus – Immanuel – God (staying) with us . . . for eternity.

Holy God, prepare our hearts to celebrate the gift of Your Son this Christmas season and for the days that follow. Teach us how to express our gratitude for so great a Gift. I ask in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Camille Anding

Camille Anding

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  • Camille Anding is a child of God since age 12.
  • Wife of 53 years to Othel; mother to Tahya and Eli;l grandmother to seven grandchildren and two great-grands.
  • Retired from photography business with Othel. Now carry cameras on their travel adventures.
  • Freelance writer, regular contributor to Hometown magazines, and dedicated to living “my utmost for His highest.”

read to feed the soul

Written by FBJ Women for Women

by: Camille Anding

Timed Memories

‘For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you . . .’” Says the LORD, who has compassion on you.”

On a recent trip to visit our grandchildren and to keep them for an over-nighter for their parents, it was my assignment to check homework and sign worksheets for the day’s work just completed. When I was handed a neat page of addition – rows of them – it catapulted me into my childhood. It screamed: SPEED DRILL!

The memories flooded over me with the same nauseating sensation. I could hear my fourth grade teacher’s voice:  “When I say go, turn over your math sheet and begin.” My hands grew sweaty as I reached for my yellow pencil. The winding of her timer meant there was no time to run and no place to hide. I wanted to tell her that I hated speed drills – that I considered them torture, but we couldn’t speak during tests. I wanted to raise my hand to go to the restroom, but you couldn’t leave your seat during speed drills. I wanted my mother or . . . a power outage . . or a tsunami! Where were those desk-shaking earthquakes when you needed them?

The timer was in place, and the sound of the guillotine crashed on my head. I grabbed my pencil and attacked the first row. Some were easy, but some required fingers. As I descended the rows, I needed fingers AND toes. Surely the timer had to be about to ring, but I wasn’t finished! But at least its ring meant that I could breathe and my heart would stop pounding – that is, until we exchanged papers and began checking our answers. The dreaded check marks could ruin the remainder of my day. Why couldn’t we check the ones we got right or circle the rows of correct answers?

I didn’t realize it them, but the speed drills and tests were just the beginning of life’s cycle of testing and sorting and grouping. Mankind has always found a way to “grade” whether by appearance, clothing labels, income, family tree, or any of an infinite number of classifications.

That’s why my discovery of God’s grace left me dumbfounded. One wonderful day I realized that there’s nothing I would ever do or not do that would make Him love me any more or any less. “But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children’s children.”Psalm 103:17.  A steadfast love – an everlasting love – what a love! He loves ME; He told me so – check marks or no check marks. 

Wonderful, Merciful Father, thank you seems much too small an expression for Your love to me. You see me, not as I am, but as I am to become. How marvelous, how wonderful is my Savior’s love for me!! Amen

Camille Anding

Camille Anding

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  • Camille Anding is a child of God since age 12.
  • Wife of 53 years to Othel; mother to Tahya and Eli;l grandmother to seven grandchildren and two great-grands.
  • Retired from photography business with Othel. Now carry cameras on their travel adventures.
  • Freelance writer, regular contributor to Hometown magazines, and dedicated to living “my utmost for His highest.”