I recently went on a medical mission trip to the Dominican Republic. Before signing up, I asked our leader, Dr. Evan Johnson, “Would there be anything for me to do on the trip? I’m not a nurse or pharmacist.” “Oh yes,” he replied and began listing the many options. “I don’t want to go and be a hindrance or dead weight.” He assured me I was fit to make the trip and that I would be used.

Not many days afterward, he called to tell me he already had a job for me. He told me about The Lily House near the SCORE international facility where we would be staying. It is a refuge for former prostitutes and for girls who would be put out of orphanages and government facilities at age sixteen. The only way they could earn a living would be in prostitution if it weren’t for the Lily House rescuing them and teaching them a trade. He wanted me to do an article for The Alabama Baptist. I didn’t tell him the steps required to get an article accepted. I just accepted the assignment. After calling my editor, she said they would love to have the article with pictures.

That assignment just took one day of our trip. When he started taking volunteers for other assignments, I raised my hand when he named evangelism. I feel I could just die and go on to Heaven today after the way God used me and our team. We saw over 600 patients that week, and each one came through our evangelism station. Over 50 prayed to accept Christ; it was my privilege to lead more than 30 of those. I don’t say that pridefully because it was the Holy Spirit working through me. That just might have been to show others there is no age limit for being used by God. The people listened intently as I presented the gospel to them one-on-one most of the time. They were very honest. If I asked if they had the peace of Jesus in their hearts, if they did, the smile and countenance on their faces answered the question before they could word it. They would pat their heart and say, “I’m a Christian.” Some would pray with me to accept, but some would answer later. I even presented the gospel to two men who said they had the duty of leading their families in witchcraft before they could become Christian. I told them that witchcraft is of the devil.  I don’t think they cast a spell on me. If they did, my armor -the Holy Spirit- blocked it.

At eighty-two years old, God’s not through with me yet. I pray he will keep on keeping on as long as He gives me breath. Nothing satisfies a Christian like sharing the peace, joy, and love of Jesus.

Granny, Gram, Nana, Grandmother – I don’t care what my grandchildren call me, just as long as they DO call. At times, I have the fleeting thought that grandmothers have already outlived their usefulness for the family, but God quickly reminds me that as long as he keeps giving us breath for the day, he still has a purpose for us.

This was dramatically driven home recently through a conversation my niece had with her grandchildren. She is fortunate to get to live next to them and is an integral part of their lives.  She helps transporting them to school and their various activities, and they often spend the night with her. She took them out for dinner one night and told them she was taking a trip and would be gone for five days and five nights. Their down-turned mouths and teary eyes revealed their sadness. The eight-year-old said with a trembling voice, “But Nana, what will we do?  You are our Holy Spirit.” That was the best way she knew to express her feelings toward her grandmother.  I told my niece she had really better watch her  and because she really had big shoes to fill.

Her four-year-old sister viewed her Nana’s beauty in a different way. She saw her physical beauty. Nana was getting dressed to go to our family reunion when her daughter dropped off the girls so they could ride with her. My niece was just half dressed, just had her pants on.  The little one said, “Nana, I like what you are wearing. Why don’t you wear that to the party?” If she had, others might not have seen the holiness in her.

All grandparents have greater influence on their grandchildren than they realize. Often they see beauty and goodness that others don’t.  Grandchildren watch what we do, hear what we speak, and observe how we deal with the good, as well as the bad in life. Mine know that I’m their prayer warrior. From time to time, one of mine will ask me to pray for a special situation or need in his/her life, and I do.  I also pray daily for their spiritual walk. I feel free to talk to them about it too.  I remind them to put whatever they do through this filter – Will God be glorified through this action? I’m not sure how much they take my advice to heart, but I can rest assured they know their spiritual life is just as important to me, and more so, than earthly fame or success.

Names are important, especially names for God. My pastor has begun a series of messages about the names of God in the bible. Each name used for God is holy. It is most important that we reverence each one. Be careful how you use His name, for little ears hear. OMG, Lordy, Lordy, and other terms we hear so often today do not reflect His holiness; actually they are forms of cursing or using God’s name in vain.

You may not be someone’s Holy Spirit, but you may reflect the image of our Father to those grandchildren more than you realize. If you carry the name Christian, be careful not to discredit it by the way you live. Those are big shoes to fill also.

Ezekiel 36: 26 – 27 –  I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.

When I was a kid our days were overfilled with activities. Vacation Bible School was always on our agenda. You could bank on two weeks of summer-break time being eaten away with VBS. Thinking back to that little country church, I remember bible stories, mission time, crafts, but best of all was a small cup of red Kool-Aid dipped out of a no. 2 washtub with one big block of ice in the center, along with 2 store-bought cookies for refreshment (The cheapest variety.)  “No seconds,” the dipper lady would remind.

When we got home, Mother would say, “Okay, Girls, we’ve got to make up some time since we were gone all morning.”  That meant getting a pail, filling it with green beans, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash and whatever else was ready for the picking. Thinking we were through with chores and ready to play, our hopes were dashed when she would say, “After you eat your sandwich, usually banana or peanut butter and jelly, grab a hoe and get after those weeds in the garden.” Finally, we would get to run and romp and enjoy our leisure. We tried to play out of sight of the house, because if Mother happened to see us, she might think of other chores she wanted us to do.

Another week or two of summer involved going to singing school where we learned to beat 4/4 time or sometimes, ¾. After being drilled on the tonic scale – the do-re-mi – we would sing “Marilla’s Lesson,” notes only in the fa-sol- la style.  We loved it when we got to sing some of the old hymns with real words.  Our favorite was “Where Could I Go.” We didn’t sing the words exactly as they were written.  When we got to the line, “—needing in a friend to save me in the end,” we thought we were really bad when we sang, —“needing a friend to kick me in the end.” We changed up a few others.  Instead of “Bringing in the sheaves,” our comic version was “bringing in the sheets.” It didn’t take much to break the boredom and entertain us.

Still another week or two was taken up with summer revival. We always hosted the revival preacher. My sisters and I dreaded it because we had to be on our best behavior, but worse, we couldn’t wear our short shorts that week.  We tried to make an impression on the preacher by making a point of his seeing us read our bible sometime during his stay.  On one occasion, we had suffered a terrible drought.  All the farmers around were whining the woes of failing crops.  The visiting preacher suggested we stay after service one night and talk to the Lord about it.  In round-robin style each man pleaded with God for rain.

When we started to the morning service, (yes, we had morning and evening services,) the preacher came out with a big umbrella.  My dad asked him why he needed an umbrella. “Where’s yours,” Mr. Cochran? “We asked God to send rain, didn’t we?” A little ashamed, Daddy went back in and got his. He didn’t want the other guys at church to see him with it though, because we had a cloudless sky.  Before the service was over, rains poured down – the flooding-ditches kind of rain.  Grown men went outside and danced around in the downpour like children.  Now that was a lesson in faith.

I would have liked to have been a juvenile delinquent (or as our country preacher called it, (gen-ye-wine genuine delinquents), but there weren’t enough weeks in the summer for that.

I guess lightening bugs and ice cream will have to wait until next month.

Mom knew how to make something beautiful from near nothing. She made clothes for my sisters and me, often from chicken feed sacks (At one time, the sacks were made from pretty prints that could be recycled for such purposes.) If there was enough fabric left from some she bought for us, she constructed a fashionable dress for herself. She always looked as though she stepped out of Vogue.

Even though cooking wasn’t her favorite thing to do, she always had good meals prepared for us. I liked to cook, so from my preteen years, she gave me run of the kitchen. I could go out into our country store (The house and store were attached.) and select what I thought would be appropriate groceries for our supper. Often my idea of a great meal consisted of canned spaghetti and meat balls, canned creamed corn, and pork and beans. She always bragged on my gourmet delights

She saw to it that we were always involved in everything at church and taught us by example to read our bible. When we would be troubled about something, she didn’t always know how to fix it, but she would say, “Go to bed ad get a good night’s sleep; things will look better in the morning.” And they did.

Although it was my dad who always had something funny to say, my mom was funny when she didn’t even mean to be.

One day as we drove down the mountain to Gadsden, my mother kept telling me how beautiful the colors on the trees were. I looked at her to see if she had completely lost it because the trees, the grass, and every sprig of vegetation were winter dead. Finally, I noticed her rose-lensed sun shades. I said, “Mother, let me see those glasses a minute.” I put them on and, Shazaam, everything was colorful and beautiful. This gave a whole new meaning to the phrase, “Seeing the world through rose-colored glasses.”

When Wesson oil and Clorox both came in brown bottles, Mother stored them under her sink. She had very little cabinet space. In a rush to get the turkey in the oven one Thanksgiving, she grabbed the Clorox instead of the oil and doused it over the turkey. Smelling her mistake, she quickly washed the turkey and skinned it. We all knew something didn’t look right about the turkey, and later, after much questioning, she had to confess her mistake. We joked for years about the time we had the all-white meat turkey.

She was the church pianist from age eleven until she was ninety. She struggled in later years finding the correct page. One day she flipped the pages in one direction, and then in the other, and when she finally found the hymn, she spoke up from the piano bench and said, “That one almost wasn’t in my book.”

Perfect she wasn’t, nor is any mother, but mine – Willie Cochran – was about as close as you can find. Pay tribute to your mom in some way this Mother’s Day.

Recently in the Holy Land, I encountered many whose eyes have been blinded to the truth that Jesus is truly the Son of God and the promised Messiah. The Jewish people have rejected him as the chosen Messiah. As one man told me when I asked what he believed about Jesus, “Ah, he’s just one of the good old boys.” A Muslim man said he was just a prophet. An atheist said he was the best salesman who ever lived who sold a bunch of ignorant people a bill of goods. With all the Holy sites in their view, they are blind to the truth. But this isn’t a new story. In Matthew 13:15 we read, For this people’s heart is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed;

In Acts 28:27, For the heart of this people is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes have they closed; lest they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.

In Mark 8:18, Having eyes, see ye not? and having ears, hear ye not? and do ye not remember?

In Roman 11: 7, What then? Israel hath not obtained that which he seeketh for; but the election hath obtained it, and the rest were blinded.

Some blindness comes from birth (their parents were unbelievers) and some, by choice.

I was reminded of the importance of physical sight recently when a woman told me her story. Her mother-in-law visited her and while there, she pulled off her glasses, laid them on the table close by, and leaned her head back to take a nap. Since that was the place the daughter-in-law often sat to read, she had her reading glasses on that same table. When her mother-in-law went home, she soon went to bed. The next morning she called her daughter-in-law and son. “I think you need to come over right away and call your brother to come also. Something is bad wrong.”

“What’s the problem, Mom,” asked her concerned son.

“Something is happening to me. I’ve suddenly gone blind. I can’t focus at all.”

The family quickly gathered to check out the problem. As they entered, to the families chagrin, the daughter-in-law broke into laughter. “Mama Nell, you aren’t going blind; you have on my glasses. You must have picked up the wrong pair yesterday.”

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if spiritual blindness was that easily remedied. May we pray that our eyes never become jaded and blinded to the truths of Jesus.

Matthew 13:16 – But blessed are your eyes, for they see: and your ears, for they hear.

Read Paul’s miraculous story in Acts 9.

Make the spiritual blindness of the people in Jerusalem a matter of prayer. Only 1% of all Jerusalem is Christian.

Contact Barbara Eubanks to speak for your upcoming events – Mother/daughter banquets, retreats, or other events 256-878-5934 or email at Barbara@barbaraeubanks.com. Read Barbara’s stories from previous issues at www.barbaraeubanks.com.

One friend resolved to quit using bad language. Just on the hills of that, she said, “OMG, I forgot and said ‘sh..‘.”

My response was, “Are you praying?”

“Well, no. Why do you ask?” she responded.

When you use my God’s name in vain, you had better be. Remember, OMG stands for ‘Oh, my God.’”

“I didn’t realize OMG was that.”

One child said a bad word recently, and her father scolded, “We don’t use that word in this house.”

The little girl said, “Well, can I go on the porch and say it?” I don’t think that went over too well with her dad.

I heard of one who said her goal was to lose 25 lbs. in 2015. A few days ago she gave an update and said she only had 30 lbs. to go.

One guy resolved not to drink alcohol in 2015 and kept his promise. (Come to think of it, that may be my resolution for 2016, since I’m a tee-totaler anyway .)

A number of years ago, a group of women agreed to meet every Monday for a year to pray for their adolescent children. When it came one ladies time to pray, she sat for a long time with her head down. The others thought she was having an emotional moment and gave her time. Finally, the lady next to her saw she had fallen asleep and punched her. I guess that gives a new meaning to growing weary in well-doing.

Let’s think of realistic goals for 2016 – ones we can keep. I believe a starter would be to keep the Ten Commandments. Another good one would be to keep a positive attitude. Perhaps one of the best would be to pray more. Set a plan for that. When I’m waiting at a long red light, I try to pray for my family – each one by name. Pray for those who cut you off in traffic or almost pull into you. An important one this year is to pray for those who lead us in government and those presidential candidates who are trying to get our votes, and for them to keep the Ten Commandments (especially the one about lying). Ask the Lord to show you areas of your life that need improvement, and ask HIM to help you keep your promise to change those bad habits.

Perhaps we need to consider Matthew 5:44 for our 2016 resolution.

But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;