Category Archives: Being a Daughter

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Silent Night, Holy Night, Again

Adahlyn Wood Ledford, Caleb Ledford, and Alice Caroline Ledford

Silent Night
By Abigail Hardy
It was December 5th, 1992.  As I rushed with my parents into the emergency room entrance late that night, a gurney sped past us.  Like a snapshot, I can remember, the sight of a leg, knee up in the air covered with a white sheet and below the knee, unnaturally, something large and black was bisecting the bloody leg.  Is that really what I saw?  I was too unsure to ask my parents.  I could tell they were more scared than they were willing to admit to me.
I sat in the waiting room of the ER.  I felt lost and unsteady as my parents went back to talk with the doctors.  Words like “accident” “coma” “racing” “head-on” were punctuating the air of the waiting room as people from our small church slowly filled it. 

Things like this do not happen to us.  Not to kids coming back from a church youth group trip.  Surely not, God. 

The van, driven by our church’s youth group leader and my Dad’s closest friend, had been hit head-on by a man in a Corvette.  He had been racing 120 mph down the curving road, some pieces of his car left hanging high in the trees. 
My oldest sister Hannah had been in the back of the van with four other junior high students from our church youth group, and two adult leaders in the front.  Kirsten, the energetic college student from WCU who helped with the youth group, died instantly.  Hannah was in a coma.  Mr. Brown, the driver, was the victim we had seen as we rushed into the ER with the brake pedal stuck through his lower leg and a broken pelvis and ribs.  He had been pinned in the car and had prayed with the kids and kept them calm until the emergency services arrived and were able to cut him out.  Another student had a serious head injury and the other three had escaped with broken bones or scrapes and bruises.

My sister had been airlifted to Memorial Mission in Asheville soon after my parents and I had arrived at the local ER.  When I got to visit her in the hospital the next day, I remember the sight of my mother, holding her hand, singing hymns and Christmas carols to her unresponsive body. 

On the third day, as my mother sang Silent Night to her daughter, she heard my sister’s voice join with hers.  Hannah had woken up.

This is the meaning of Christmas, lived out by the people I lived with. 
Mr. Brown, speaking peace to panicked kids as his own pain loomed like a giant wave above him. 
Kirsten, losing her life in the middle of obedience to Christ’s call on her to minister to kids.
My mom, singing Silent Night over my sister in total faith that God is our healer and restorer.
My sister, given back life through no merit or effort of her own, and, oh, so thankful for that gift.

And, yes, the tears fall when I sing Silent Night at Christmas.  Because this is a beautiful, broken world that our Almighty God was born to save.

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You Are Mine

Four Generations 1979

Gayle, Hannah, Svea, and Esther

My Grandmother, an amazing woman who emigrated to the United States from Sweden in 1920, lived the “American Dream”. She left the poverty of northern Europe between the two World Wars and worked as a maid, then a cook for a wealthy Chicago family. She met my grandfather through a friend, married, had three daughters, raised two grandsons, and began oil painting at age 52 when she had an empty nest.

Yet those facts don’t tell the whole story. Svea was a force. She had a deep love for her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and shared that love whenever she could. She quoted Bible verses to all of us – sometimes out of context to get her point across – yet she truly loved God’s Word.

She fiercely loved her family, and made holidays, especially Thanksgiving, a feast of food, love, and laughter. I have two brothers and 5 male cousins and we all had the “privilege” of sitting at the “piggy table” (in the kitchen) while the adults ate in peace in the dinning room with china and crystal. I smile thinking about those meals. We laughed so hard that our stomachs ached as those boys jockeyed for attention as the most hilarious. “Pass the rolls” meant a literal “pass” and missing the catch sent the boys into hoots of derision. To this day I am petrified about catching anything. (thanks Tommy)

Every once in a while, my Grandmother would stick her head in the kitchen and admonish us to “keep it down” and then retreat back to the dining room and the civilized conversation. We wouldn’t have traded the dining room for the piggy table any day! Oh, by the way, the food was DELICIOUS!! Svea was an exceptional cook.

After my grandfather passed away and Grandma lived alone for several years, she had a stroke and then moved in with my parents who were then living near us in North Carolina. Grandma suffered another stroke and then went to live in a care center for rehabilitation. She thrived in that environment, enjoying the social interaction and bingo sessions all the while continuing to paint. She had a solo exhibit of her paintings for her 90th birthday!

As she turned 95, Svea began to fail, yet her spirit was strong! Our daughter, Salem, became a CNA through her high school health occupations classes and did a rotation at the care center where Grandma lived. Grandma was forgetting names but recognized Salem. She would walk through the center pushing her wheelchair and when she saw Salem, she would say – “You are mine”. Then she would let everyone know around her that Salem “was hers”. Svea was so proud to have family there and wanted everyone to know.

Recalling Svea’s love for all of us in her family, it reminds me that our Heavenly Father loves us fiercely with His perfect love. He has called us by name. He never forgets who we are – He says “You are Mine”.

Isaiah 43:1-3 says –

43 But now, O Jacob, listen to the Lord who created you.
O Israel, the one who formed you says,
“Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you.
I have called you by name; you are mine.
2 When you go through deep waters,
I will be with you.
When you go through rivers of difficulty,
you will not drown.
When you walk through the fire of oppression,
you will not be burned up;
the flames will not consume you.
3 For I am the Lord, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.

This Thanksgiving I am so thankful for the legacy of my grandmother – Svea Elise Anderson Rohner. Her prayers for me and example of love for Jesus have impacted my life eternally. I pass that on now to my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchild.

Remember – we are called by His name – we are His.

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Mothering Mistakes

This picture shows 4 generations – 3 mothers. How blessed we were to have my mother with us until she went on to her eternal rest in the presence of her Lord and savior – Jesus. She lived on this earth until she was 90 years old – her body was becoming weaker, but her mind and spirit were strong until the end. Mother had heart surgery to repair a leaking heart valve. She was told the risk involved in surgery for someone her age and her words still resound in my heart when I miss her – “Gayle. either way I win! I will have a repaired heart and more energy, or I will be in the presence of Jesus!”

She won. She is in the presence of Jesus.

My mother talked often about her hope – the knowledge that she would dwell in eternity in the presence of God. She viewed her present sufferings “in light of eternity”, one of her favorite phrases. Sometimes I resented her attitude – “but now, in the present, this suffering is REAL”. I even saw it at times as an escape from facing the very real suffering in the present. Yet as I get older I appreciate more each day my mother’s faith in her Heavenly Father. Eternity is more real as more and more of my dear family, friends, and brothers and sisters in the Lord pass on from this life.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I was thinking about how I would be as a mother. My mother was a wonderful mother. We always had a loving and respectful relationship, even in my teenage years. Yet I remember telling my mother “I think you are a great mother, but I won’t parent our child exactly like you did.” In her wisdom Mother replied –

“You are right, Gayle, you won’t make the same mistakes I made. You will make your own mistakes.”

What wisdom! I realize all these years later, with children 46, 45, 44, and 42 I certainly have made mistakes, and God’s grace has been there every step of the way.

In Ephesians 3:14-21 Paul is praying for the church at Ephesus.

14 For this reason I kneel before the Father, 15 from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. 16 I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

What a perfect prayer for mothers! Praying that God our Father would:

  • strengthen us through his Holy Spirit
  • dwell in our hearts through faith
  • cause us to become rooted and established in God’s love
  • empower us to grasp how wide, long, high, and deep God’s love is
  • quiet our hearts to KNOW that love
  • equip us to become filled with the measure of all God’s fullness

We have all made mistakes as mothers, and we will continue to make mistakes as long as we live in this fallen, broken world. Verse 20 gives me so much HOPE. God is able to to do “immeasurably more that we ask or imagine”. I can imagine wonderful things for my family, yet God’s plan is far beyond even my wildest dreams.

The final part of this prayer is the foundation of my hope – v. 21 – “to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout ALL Generations!” This promise is for me, my children, my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren, for ever and ever! AMEN!