I ran across an old picture that dates back to the 80s. It’s My grandmother, two uncles, a cousin, my dad, and me. A moment in time captured on film. The setting is probably one of the family Christmas gatherings. My dad is in his traditional Christmas pants that he always wore, and I am in some tacky sweater that’s not even Christmas-y.

Since then, my grandmother, both uncles, and cousin have passed away. Now the only ones left in that picture are my father and I.

I don’t know if you have those kinds of pictures that evoke memories and feelings like that. You see people who are no longer here and would give anything to speak with them again, if only for a moment or two.

I’d give just about anything to step back into that picture and relive those precious few seconds. Even if I could only be an unseen observer, seeing all those people alive again for that brief time would be worth it.

I’m thankful that I got to live that memory and know all the people in the picture. My only regret is that I didn’t say, “I love you” nearly enough to every single person in that photo.

But I have the memory.

“If I could hear Christ praying for me in the next room, I would not fear a million enemies. Yet the distance makes no difference; he is praying for me” (Robert Murray M’Cheyne).

That boggles my mind. Jesus intercedes for me. Jesus prays for me. Jesus asks the Father on my behalf for my good and His glory what I could never hope to ask for myself.

It doesn’t matter that Jesus isn’t in the next room. He is next to the Father.

I wonder that if I really believed in the power of Jesus’ interceding for me, how boldly would I live. How confident would I be in the promises of God and seeing God’s purposes fulfilled in me and through me.

I would not fear a million enemies, nor a million obstacles, nor a million of my own doubts and sins. I would take heart even on those nights when I have no words, because Jesus speaks for me. He speaks a better word for me.

“From such a vantage, He is able to save those who approach God through Him for all time because He will forever live to be their advocate in the presence of God” (Hebrews 7:25, The Voice).

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. But as you may or may not be aware, it is also Ash Wednesday. I wonder when was the last time those two fell on the same day.

But with that, I’m posting a beautiful prayer that marks the beginning of the season of Lent which lasts from Ash Wednesday up until Easter Sunday:

“A lenten prayer to avoid entitlement from Richard Rohr:

‘Maybe we all should begin our days with a litany of satisfaction, abundance, and enoughness. God, you have given me another day of totally gratuitous life: my health, my eyes, my ears, my mind, my taste, my family, my freedom, my education, clean water, more than enough food, a roof over my head, a warm bed and blanket, friends, sunshine, a beating heart, and your eternal love and guidance.

To any one of these we must say, ‘And this is more than enough!'”

In reality, it’s been raining for 4 or 5 days. It feels like it’s been raining since January.

For a brief and glorious moment, the rain stopped and the sun broke through the clouds. For a second or two, I could see clear blue sky.

Then it rained again.

As of this moment, it’s still raining.

I almost feel like I should start checking on the prices of arks and how to take care of animals in pairs of two. But thankfully, that scenario won’t ever be repeated.

Yet still it rains.

So I hold on to hope along with that little orphan Annie that maybe the sun’ll come out . . . . tomorrow. Maybe.

Have you ever had those moments when you find something riotously funny? Typically, it comes when you’re sleep-deprived or anxious. It’s a moment when you’re laughing so hard that you make no noise and sometimes you clap like a seal for special effect.

I have.

Have you ever gone to bed feeling hopeless and despairing and then awoke to find that all those problems that seemed overwhelming the night before don’t seem as daunting?

I have.

Sometimes, the best cures for just about anything are a good belly laugh and a long sleep. And I don’t mean a polite chuckle or even a loud laugh, but one where you have tears streaming and your sides hurt and you can’t breathe. The kind where if anyone seeing you will think you have gone and lost what little of your mind you still had left.

And a good night’s sleep. That’s when you turn off the alarm. You even might feel a little guilty for sleeping so long. But sometimes that’s just what you need, so don’t listen to the guilt.

Remember, Jesus took a nap in the boat in the middle of a storm, so you’re allowed. And I’m sure the disciples had plenty of reason for laughter with Peter constantly sticking his foot in his mouth.

So there.