Author Archives: trishascoffeebreak

Is It Worth Keeping?

16 Monday Sep 2019

Posted by in Encouragement, MONDAY MUSINGS

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A friend recently shared on FB this quote: “The easiest way to organize your stuff is to get rid of it.” (Joshua Fields Millburn).  We see it all the time – solutions to manage our stuff – things like “Three easy steps to get organized” or “Turn your trash into treasure” and so on with an array of DIY suggestions. Books, videos, magazines, television shows and best friends make organization look not only easy, but fun and actually desirable! Ha! We (well, most of us) have accumulated ourselves into a hole. We fill closets and garages, attics and basements, cupboards and corners; and then shift it all around again from one to the other. Trunks and totes, bags and boxes hold stuff we just can’t let go. And it robs us of our space to, you know, organize. We need room to breathe, move about in our space without tripping, or having to move out of the house just to find something. I lose stuff so often that it’s gotten to be a joke in our family. They just laugh and remind me that it’ll turn up somewhere. Today I found a couple of old blue canning jars with zinc lids that I thought I’d lost, or more correctly, I’d accused “somebody took/hid/broke/moved” them.  I stopped doing that by the way, after several “lost” items turned up where I had put them. Today it was in the back of the buffet as I reorganized my stoneware storage in preparation for a paint job. Are they really worth keeping if I survived this long without them? I might do well to take inventory throughout my house asking, does this serve a purpose, have I needed it in the last ten years, and would it benefit someone else to give it away?

When I read the neat quote my friend shared, I thought, hey there’s a thought! Get rid of it. But for a sentimental collector of all things ever given to me, it’s not that easy. Sad, right?  However, it did get me to thinking of the ‘stuff’ on the spiritual realm that could be blocking our view of  greater peace, or hindering our walk of faith. Do we collect, so to speak, too many secular notions, worries of life, or perhaps a bin full of grudges. Tons of stuff could squeeze us out of spiritual space to grow and walk freely with God. From old emotional scars, to the latest craze in communications, anything that we aren’t currently using for a good purpose like encouragement for others, or growing in knowledge, has become clutter that needs tossing out. If it cannot be removed, then it can be reorganized (which means lined up properly) and repurposed for use on some level to bring glory to God; and would not supersede the place God desires in our lives.

I am the chiefest of sinners, as Paul put it, in the department of keeping too much stuff. Just as it makes organization difficult on the household level, so does it on the spiritual level. Shuffling and shifting it around does not help; it uses up more time and end result, it’s still there! I’ve spent valuable time looking for things hidden among unused items I thought I might need someday. I have as well, lost non-refundable hours lying awake to solve problems instead of giving them to God;  or time watching mindless television shows, instead of doing what I complain of never having the time to do. (I found it easier to break myself from that than I thought it would be; the quality of programming made it so.) Too much time doing crosswords to have a devotional? Put them in the recycle bin. Too much time on Facebook to read my bible? Shut it down until I learn to limit my time. Slept too late to check on a shut-in? Set an alarm and enjoy a little extra time; sunrises are inspiring! Harboring an old grudge that hinders true fellowship? Forgive and forget. I could go on and on with examples, but you get the idea.

Let’s not try to rearrange or work around the stuff that hinders our spiritual walk; lets just get rid of it. Fill those spaces with what we really need. Paul lists them here:

Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy–meditate on these things. Philippians 4:8 (NKJV)

It Won’t Always Be Summer

01 Sunday Sep 2019

Posted by in Life, Through my window

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As surely as tomorrow follows today, autumn will come. However, the summer seems endless when days are long, long, long; long on high temperatures, storms and jobs that never seem to be done. The nights are so filled with sound and humidity that they feel solid, heavy and packed. It’s tempting to think summer’s lock can’t be picked; that there’s time to relax and get everything accomplished in our own time. I look out at the rain watered lawns and growing soybeans, and see no sign of autumn; step out of the door and the heat confirms it – summer still has a firm grip.

In spite of all that, the calendar still says today is September. We will wake up one morning to a crisp October frost and then the green will disappear. Along with it, the heat and humidity, and the hope of crossing off every single job on our to-do lists for that seemingly endless summer, will be gone. I will not be sorry. It’s been a hoot, Summer, but I do not mind to see you go. I’m tired. I am ready to cede the rest of my to-do list to your future successor. If the Lord wills that we see another summer, I’ll deal with that then.

Today, though, I’m thinking of something else. Being in my autumn of life, I wonder if I handled summer okay. You know, we often treat the summer of life much like the months of summer. Perhaps so overwhelmed with all we want to accomplish in life; with the heat of responsibility; with the growing pains and stormy seasons, we may decide to live it up first, tempted to “eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may die”.  Or, we could procrastinate, totally unable to imagine the autumn of life, let alone the winter,  the end. Unfortunately the calendar doesn’t warn us about stages of life as it does about seasons of time. The end of our year can slip up overnight, or it may take thirteen months. Either way, summer will end. With all the real-life reminders lately of the brevity of life, I find myself asking, what is most important?

We’re asked in God’s word, when we die, “then whose will those things be?”(Luke 12:20 NKJV) So, I want to leave things that are valuable to others – the others who will have what I leave. Kind of makes you want to clean out closets, shelves and such doesn’t it? Anyway, I really feel all they want me to leave are good memories for them; the knowledge that I have loved them well; and maybe a few dollars (well, be honest, it would be nice).  I want to leave all that and this – a faith rooted so deeply in the truth that it will never waver as they hold it and examine it, the way we open a letter from someone who has passed from us;  a faith that points to Jesus Christ, guiding them every day of their lives. I want to leave a love for God so big that they are led to get in, deeper, and find there the eternal life that God left us; that is, a life that leads toward an eternity where summer is perfect – as fresh as spring, as fulfilling as a bountiful autumn harvest and yet it is always summer- and where winter never comes.

‘Make hay while the sun shines’. ‘Don’t put off for tomorrow what you can do today.’ Those old sayings are steeped in truth. The words of Jesus: “And behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to give to every one according to his work.” (Revelation 22:12)

On Peace and Power

17 Saturday Aug 2019

Posted by in Encouragement, Reflections

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cornfield in August

The morning has a stillness about it that feels content; catching its breath after so much growing and toiling thru the spring and summer. The corn field has taken on the color of its brown tassels with feathered streaks of tired green, faded from the sun and age. Cicadas and other insect sounds tell me that August is half gone, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Summers hold so many expectations, pregnant with projects to be done, and promises of lazy hazy days to play. Suddenly it’s over, another school year for some; for me it’s time to decide which of those projects are worth the rush to get accomplished before autumn, too, has come and gone.

Sitting here on the front porch, I find myself as content as the air about me. Content to let the world go by, tempted to turn off every power switch – like the one that would have gotten this tired old porch furniture washed and repainted a month ago, which means, I guess, that it’s already been turned off. The switch of desire to clean out the landscape just beneath the porch edge – pretty dim; I don’t think I can find it. I had my chores lined up for today, doggie bath, garden stroll to gather what’s left and a nice bouquet, and lower the level of the ironing basket. Yet, here I sit. Watching the barn swallows swoop and chatter;  enjoying the bluebirds feed their third family this year; listening as the sounds of summer press pause, but expectant, like a gift waiting to be opened. A crow caws, finches chirp, a hummingbird teases the air and the hum of distant traffic all lull me near to the edge of complacency.  I pull myself back and remember why I came out here – time for devotion, recharging as I connect with the Real Power. Today’s message in Mornings with the Holy Spirit*, August 17, is titled “Walk In Peace And Power”.  Wow.

As is so often the case, the devotional I open reflects my thoughts. Peace. Contentment. The writer in today’s read says, “When you are upset by circumstances around you, you’ve stopped trusting Me” (speaking as the Holy Spirit). “Where trust exists, peace flows. Where peace abides, power flows. Where power is present, change can occur.” Next the writer reminds us that God works all things together for our good because He loves us and we love Him, and to cast our cares upon Him and pray.  I have learned to cast my cares upon Him, and I believe that is why I can feel true peace and comfort, even in the knowledge that so many friends and family are in distress. I know Who cares, and that as I am still, waiting in peace, He has the power, not I, to change those things that matter to my heart. Trying to fix things myself can’t come close to what He can accomplish when we are calm and trusting to take it to God in prayer. Expectant stillness; hope.

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God;
 and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.  (Philippians 4:6-7)

Paul didn’t sit complacent, expecting the absence of hardships. He kept going; but – in the contentment of God’s provision and care; through Christ Jesus.

So, rather than complaining about the heat, lets drink our water and turn on the fan. Be still. Read from God’s Word. Find out how much He loves; how big He blesses; how infinite His peace.

Be calm, and trust on.

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*Mornings With The Holy Spirit With Journal by Jennifer LeClaire. Page 240.

 

Butterflies and Stinkbugs

29 Monday Jul 2019

Posted by in inspiration, MONDAY MUSINGS

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“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” Audrey Hepburn

20190729_124142As you may guess from the title, I’ve been to the garden this morning. Inspired by the quiet,  I sang “I Must Tell Jesus”, and let the burdens of my heart roll on down the bean rows. If you’re a gardener I’ll bet you wonder as you pick, ‘now who would like a few of these’, or ‘where can I share those?” Sharing is the BEST product of a garden. Today I choose to share more than the produce.

Holding my little basket of cucumbers and peppers, I turned to be sure I’d covered all the dabs of this and that still producing. As I stood there admiring the large yellow and blue butterfly sipping at the zinnia tips, another motion grabbed my attention – a hummingbird had darted in for a share of the goodness. Also hovering there, was a large bumble bee, all three being in the same square foot of zinnia blooms. You know if that butterfly and bee had been other hummingbirds, there’d have been a chasing and rooting each other out. I’ve never understood why they do that. Sunday morning my husband and I watched a show many of you have also seen: a male with his ruby throat glowing, guard one porch feeder from his perch inside the cherry tree. As soon as another hummer headed for the feeder, he zoomed in and intercepted. Over and over the same greedy race went on, (I only suppose it’s greed, since I don’t really know what his purpose was) until we left the show to get ready for church.

Back to this morning – as I was looking around, I also noticed two big very ugly crusty critters on a sunflower stem. With shields for backs and long legs gripping the stem, they looked offensive, and after I squished them, the odor was even more so. I got to thinking about that small garden being its own community. Like our communities, you get all kinds living there. There are the lady bugs that go about keeping house throughout the plants. A host of insects feed the beautiful birds that drop by. There are blossoms full of nectar for nourishing the bees, birds and butterflies. My pretty squash plants succumbed to a nasty bug no bigger than the size of a grain of black pepper, crawling inside the stems. The good, the bad, the lovely and the ugly; all living together. Which one am I, is what I have to ask myself.  Am I a stink bug, a kill joy, eating up all I can for myself? Am I a butterfly flitting about spreading joy; or a tomato or bean plant blooming to give good things to others? Is my life in any way a sweet aroma to my God? Am I willing to reach out, to share what I’ve been blessed with in my seasons of plenty? “I know that nothing is better for them than to rejoice, and to do good in their lives”, (Ecclesiastes 3:12 NKJV)

I went to the garden and sang for strength (“And the Lord made His people very fruitful and made them stronger than their foes.” Psalm 105:24); I prayed for the Murdock family to be comforted (“This is my comfort in my affliction, that your promise gives me life”. Psalm 119:50); I praised God for all these gifts and more. I came back from the garden a little stronger, a little more encouraged, and content. I wish these things for you, friends, as your week unfolds.

“And be kind to one another, tenderhearted forgiving one another, just as God in Christ forgave you.” Ephesians 4:32

WHEN FAITH GETS SHAKY: Keep Praying, Keep Climbing.

22 Monday Jul 2019

Posted by in Faith, Prayer Life

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I have struggled today with matters of faith, prayer and promises. I didn’t know how to word my questions, so no matter how much I wanted to write, all I could say was “I can’t even…” and when I tried to pray I cried and felt like an ungrateful child, or at best, a distant relative. Throughout the day, I’ve studied God’s word with intermittent prayer and at last have, with God’s guidance, found my footing in that jagged mountainside of faith. “…nevertheless I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day.” (II Timothy 1:12)

If you have never questioned God’s promises – well, not so much God, but our understanding of the promises – if you’ve never felt your faith quiver somewhat, then I applaud you in your stoic faith. Though I have met some disappointments without questioning God even one little bit, that is not always the case.  There have come times of heartache brought about by no one’s wrong doing; hope that’s dashed and severe suffering by good people. We see it everyday. We pray, we see answers and blessings, we praise God, knowing His goodness and mercy have followed us. Or, we pray, we wait hopefully, believing God’s will is best and plan to give all glory to Him, whatever the answers are. Or, we pray, we watch bad turn to worse, we hope and pray more, and continue to see what to our human sight, is unanswered prayer. Wrong. None of these is the true purpose of prayer. It’s not about the answers. I know this. I just get so caught up in taking it all to the Lord, that I veer off course on a path of thinking He owes me answers. How wrong this is!

I read somewhere that the true purpose of prayer is to draw closer to God, not to seek answers. I believe scripture supports that; even though the Lord said “seek and you shall find, ask and it shall be given, knock and it shall be opened to you”. So I ask myself, am I seeking, asking and knocking for the wrong things? His answers are already given us in His Word – both the written word as well as His Word that became flesh and dwelt among us. He knows suffering. He knows disappointment. He knows prayer beyond human limits, to the point of sweating like great drops of blood. (Luke 22:44)

What has my heart burdened today is not for myself, but for friends who so far have not seen the answers that they and our community have sought for months. Still we pray, knowing that with God all things are possible (Matthew 19:26).  Every time I look at the newspaper, or listen to the news, there are reports of more suffering children; neglect, abuse, tragedy, and I want to throw something and scream. Still I pray. I pray with the knowledge that whatever circumstances any of us endure, we are already given everything we need. The rest, beyond Christ as our Savior, is icing on the cake. My heart aches that some of those sweetest blessings are subjected to pain and suffering, that beautiful young life is interrupted for tedious tests and treatments; that dreams dissolve into emesis basins and medications. Cancer is so cruel. But, focus, I tell myself; eyes on the Lord, not on the problem. Look higher, seek a life of walking with the only one who knows completely what we are going through. He has weathered every storm long before us; He gave up every comfort, even to death, so that when life such as it is, forces evil upon us, He can carry us through. Jesus knows. Jesus cares. Jesus has provided the peace that passes all understanding. Jesus is Lord – on the mountain and in the valley – and has prepared the end of our story to be victorious. Whether the story lasts a few months, 18 years, 90 years or more, ours is but a breath and then there is eternal life. Victorious, perfect, eternal praise to the One Who gave us everything good; and ultimately destroys all that threatens good.

These questions have been mauled by the philosophies of people on all sides of the issues, and this simple country girl has no original idea, nor even a good idea to help us get through life’s storms. Here is what I do know: no force of earth nor space could ever have given me the blessings I’ve enjoyed, except the fiercely loving, all knowing God I serve. He did not cause bad things to happen, and if He always only allowed us to have everything we ask, where would be the hope of Heaven? If all was good, uninterrupted smooth sailing, who would need the lighthouse? It’s all about preparing our lives to depend on Him, to look forward to being with Him, and to give Him all praise for what He has done for us. Life is grand, and grander still, God holds my hand and always will.

I mentioned earlier a ‘jagged mountainside of faith’. I look forward to the completion of my faith, when I reach the top of that mountain. As long as I am here though, on the mountainside, there will be falling rock, stumbling stones, and holes to overcome because this is life – human style. I believe we can only reach the top by holding hands, (we have two) one with God and the other helping another. When our faith is complete in Christ, our journey done, we will look back at all He has brought us through; to new life –  heaven style. I still have questions; even in the autumn of life my faith is still growing; but I have hope that when we do rest atop that mountain, the view will be worth it all.

If you’ve stayed with me to this point, thank you for hearing my heart. I truly want to hear from yours too, in how you reconcile verses such as “faith will save the sick” in James 5, with the knowledge that some are not healed. How do you wrestle with life questions without bruising your faith or that of others? Remind me of Job, “In all this Job did not sin nor charge God with wrong.” (Job 1:22)  Have a good week. Trisha

From the Storm to the Table

23 Sunday Jun 2019

Posted by in Encouragement, Faith

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With the blackness touching my face and the silence filling my ears, there was no sleep for me. I lay there wondering how I became so accustomed to today’s sensory input that I couldn’t even find peace in the wake of a storm. I thought how dark and quiet the nights must have been for my grandparents. When their lamp was snuffed out, and the stars and moon were swallowed by the heavy bellied clouds, the dark was solid. There were no security lights; no traffic casting a glow through their dark windows as we have now. But there was more than the dark and quiet keeping me awake. It was that question in the back of my mind – what would I find in the morning’s light? What changes would the storm have brought that I couldn’t yet see?

Unable to await daylight, I entered the darkness by lantern and found some of the porch furniture cast into a bed of perennial plants that I was rather fond of, including beautiful 3 feet tall ivory colored Calla lilies, now lying flat on the ground under a large potted schefflera. I wrestled the potted plant back up onto the porch, and placed the lighter metal furniture pieces back onto their home as well. Taking my wet self back inside, I waited for the electricity to bring our ‘normal’ unnatural night lights, motor humming, and sleep.20190622_110305.jpg

With daylight I was better able to survey the damage, and for us the casualties were minimal. As quickly as the thought “what a mess!” entered my head, it was chased by the knowledge that this is nothing, and my heart was heavy for all the homes that suffered real damage this spring alone, by flood and tornado. I felt ashamed for grieving my lovely Callas. But then, I thought of those verses in God’s Word about even one little lamb being sought when the remaining flock was safe (Luke 15:4-5); and the one pearl of great price (Matthew 13:46); and sweeping the house clean to find one coin (Luke 15:8-9). Yes, my beautiful Callas were important to me, with all the work I’ve invested into that flower bed, and the pleasure I’ve had looking out the window at their beauty. Oh, I’m not really grieving, or “all tore up”, as we say around here. But as always, nature speaks to me of God and His ways. So, I lifted their sad little faces and supported them with a trellis, and salvaged a small bouquet to enjoy the creamy perfection in their blooms.20190622_112347

I’m comforted in the knowledge that my Father in heaven gets down in the deep with me to shoulder my burdens; lifts my face, picks me up when I’ve fallen; supports me and continues to work with what I have to give. If you’ve weathered a storm of your own lately, or perhaps in the midst of despair even now, you are surely fearful of what you will find in the path your storm takes. I would encourage us all to look up to our amazing God, Who by His grace and through Jesus Christ, saves us; and our sweet Holy Spirit Who takes our cry from the depths of our lows to the Father. He hears, and He works more mightily than we can imagine. Bring what you have to the table and let it shine. You are as important to Him as the whole flock, more worthy than ten times your weight in silver coins; a pearl of great price. He will salvage, He will save, He will keep you in His wisdom and time.20190622_113048

“He calms the storm, So that its waves are still.  Then they are glad because they are quiet; So He guides them to their desired haven.  Oh, that men would give thanks to the Lord for His goodness, And for His wonderful works to the children of men!” Psalm 107:29-31 (NKJV)

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, And renew a steadfast spirit within me.” Psalm 51:10

Uprooting the Beauty With the Beast

03 Monday Jun 2019

Posted by in Life, MONDAY MUSINGS, Uncategorized

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Today’s Monday Musings is a look inward where I find I may, as they say, not see the forest for the trees; throw out the baby with the bath water, and so on. You’ll find my actual gardening addiction may parallel some plane of your life where the busy-ness suffocates the beauty. Dig in 🙂

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Wild violets – disguised in their dainty blooms.

I know it’s true, I’m a hypocrite; a two timer and a shell of a housewife. I’ve backslid into the wayward life of a ground grubbing, weed wrenching maniac. Just last year I wrote and spoke on the topic of letting go; releasing the weights that pull us away from embracing new seasons. I’ve said that we must let go of what holds us back from celebrating the beauty within each new season, accepting, acknowledging and praising. Oh, I have accepted (that weeds and grass rule my life); I have acknowledged (that it’s up to me to get them); and I have…uh, prais…no, it’s time to come clean, cleaner than my fingernails. My praising in the garden was beautiful that first round of dew laden blooms, before the devil woke up the nutsedge, the bermuda grass, and the wild violets. I am a compulsive gardener; I need help.

How does it happen? I walk through the gardens once a day (a tip from Mama’s cousin for a successful garden). I figured if she did so, and lived nearly 100 years, that’s all the encouragement I need! And the therapeutic effect of evicting those weeds, clearing the ground filth and watching a garden take bloom, or become a dinner plate of delicious is just beyond compare! First an innocent walk-through, and the next thing I know, I’m up to my elbows in dirt, swatting those biting flies, with blurry eyes from the salty sweat; it’s time for dinner with nothing planned, there’s laundry to do and the dust bunnies are playing. Shame. So much shame.

For those of you laughing out the words “mow it down or spray it brown”, go sit with my husband. No thank you, I love my flowers and I hate that dead brown stuff left everywhere that he escaped my guard with his Round-Up wand. So what I end up with is this. I have weeded myself into a corner; a vicious cyclic corner where I have failed to adore the beauty and the Maker of it. I am so enrapt with weeding out the bad, that I haven’t given due respect to the beauty of opening buds and unfurling leaves that are the product of my work and God’s grace. I now ask Him to rescue me, remind me of His far greater purpose for me, and to return me to the communion I had with Him in the midst of His garden.

To apply a grain of wisdom I’ve gleaned, I hope to be able to read the newspaper, listen to the news and observe the unwelcome changes in life with a new eye for the good, the grandeur and splendor of life’s garden, rather than combing the corrupt with a long handled weeder. I want to acknowledge and praise God for the bountiful blessings instead of attacking life with a hoe, and a garden trowel. What is wrong with me? Who cares if my butterfly garden seating area is clean and welcoming, if I have no time to sit and invite others into it. Who cares how clean my rows of Blue Lake bush beans are, if I never pick and share them? Likewise, who will hear about Jesus the great physician, if I haven’t made time to visit the sick? I have weeded out life’s blooms; so focused on the work and blinded to the beauty.

But the summer is young. There is time for reforming. Oh, I’m not saying I will give it up. There is so much beauty in gardening that I cannot leave it as long as there’s breath in me and God gives me the ability. The secret is in balance. Schedules work for other important parts of life; I shall schedule my dates with the dandelions, and be sure to sit a spell mid the bluebirds’ perch at the wheat field’s edge, and inhale the fragrance of the warm moist garden dirt. If I am truly nearer God’s heart in a garden, then I will be using that time to meditate on His word and plan what I might be doing for someone else before the day is gone. When I begin to feel overwhelmed, I will stop and pray for the strength to walk away.

In Jesus’ teaching, as recorded in Matthew, I read that He doesn’t want me to be so aggressive toward the evil deeds that I uproot the good that can be accomplished toward all people.  I think He was teaching us to hate the sin and love the person, and the Father will sort it all out in the end. I know that if I begin to weed or hoe the garden while the young seedlings are too small, it will uproot them too. They would never get a chance to produce fruit.

“He put another parable before them, saying, “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a man who sowed good seed in his field,  but while his men were sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and went away.  So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared also. And the servants of the master of the house came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then does it have weeds?’  He said to them, ‘An enemy has done this.’ So the servants said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’  But he said, ‘No, lest in gathering the weeds you root up the wheat along with them.” (Matthew 13: 24-29 ESV)

NICE DAY Part 5: Sweet Things

20 Monday May 2019

Posted by in Children

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“Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.” Proverbs 16:24

As we’ve all agreed, children can say and do the cutest things; from embarrassing to enlightening, we never know quite what’s coming next. Their words may not be exactly wise as we think of wisdom from ages of experience, but they are so honest that their words are like sparks off the flame of wisdom. They are often observant of the little details we miss, while we’re looking at the big hurried picture.  And just when we need it most, they wrap a bad day in a nougat filled chocolate shell that we carry in our hearts for days.

My daughter was blessed with a pretty smile, not too big, not at all small like mine, just right. Someone once told her she had a nice big mouth (whatever that meant) to which she bristled and announced, “Uh-uh! My mouff is nittle nike my Mama’s!” (Interpretation: my mouth is little like my…)  Oh my! What a compliment when your beautiful little girl wants to believe she is just like her mother. It was sweet to my soul to know it never bothered her that my mouth wasn’t what society says is the going thing.

As you might guess, Stephanie had a little speech thing going on until first grade. You’ve no doubt heard that children learn what they live, so we never made fun of her speech, but instead found it rather charming and she learned acceptance in the world rather than bitterness. Her world was made up of a big brother, parents, and boy cousins. It was rare that she had girls to play with until school days, so the thought of getting to go where there might be girl peers was exciting for her. Before online shopping, Stanley and Tupperware parties were a common thing, especially for young moms who hadn’t already accumulated fifteen of everything. One evening as I prepared to attend a Stanley (or some product) party, I offered as I always did to take her with me, or would she rather stay home. Her sweet answer said she was thinking “what’s in it for me?” but was it cookies? No. Nor was it cake or punch. It wasn’t the games she had observed either. And, she’d probably had enough of Mommy for the day. Her question was “Will dem be any nittle gills dare Mama?” (Will there be any little girls there?) Companionship with peers is what she wanted. I told her I really couldn’t say, to which she replied, “OK, I wanna go with you anyway”.  People obviously mattered most to her, even if it was just her Mama. I suppose if I’d been looking closely, really seeing, I could have predicted that she would be in public relations as a career. I think it would be a nicer world if we grownups looked at every opportunity through the eyes of friendship more than materialism.

One more little Stephanie moment: a moment of calling her daddy out on a technicality. Somehow, he managed to take us out for a restaurant meal about every two weeks, and his favorite was fish. Our little girl always filled up quickly and felt the need to stretch out, so it wasn’t unusual to see her lying across my lap and her chair while we finished our meal. But sometimes she had to wait until we were home and stretch out across her daddy in the recliner. One such recliner evening followed a nice pizza meal, but daddy’s full tummy denied her stretch across his lap. Out of habit, his response was, “Honey, daddy’s full of fish”, to which she cried, “But daddy! We had pizza!” She intended to keep him honest, if nothing else, as if that nulled his excuse. Technicalities!

Another little sweetie pie around five years ago, was chattering to her baby doll and following me around the house. At age three or four, she was oblivious to my quickly changing clothes. All at once she looked up mid sentence and gasped, “Aunt Trisha! You have on pretty panties!” I think she never expected anyone but little girls to have pretty designs on their undies. She went right back to playing without missing a beat, and as I said “Thanks”,  I thought how much more observant children are than we think; and way more honest than we may want them to be. How many moms have turned red because their word was contradicted by the great knowledge of a four or five

My girl
Aunt Trisha’s sweetie
Little Man Ryan

year old? Their innocence makes their eyes sparkle; their appreciation for small things dresses them in excitement. Their humility makes them say things like “that’s okay” and really mean it if you step on their toes or forget a promised bowl of frozen blueberries. They love everybody, without prejudice. Thank you God.

My final ‘sweet thing’ memory for this post is of the only young man who has ever asked me to dance. Talk about no prejudice, who but a four year old would ask a much taller girl going gray, without makeup, in old play clothes, to dance? I have (a gift from my husband many years ago) a crank up RCA Victrola which plays the old 78 records and the volume is controlled by how open or closed the doors of the cabinet are. As a toddler, Ryan was fascinated by the crank handle. After learning that some fun music from the 30’s could be heard, he would ask me to play it for him. My reward one day, for obliging him was the sweetest, as he opened the Victrola doors wide, held out his hand and said, “wanna dance?” We waltzed around my living room to “How Do You Talk to an Angel”  in a cloud of happy. Years later at a wedding reception, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and a much taller pre-teen Ryan asked me again, though more shyly, “do you want to dance”? My heart soared around the room even though the music stopped by the time we’d barely begun to dance. Consideration for an old friend cannot be overrated!

Friends, if we want to sweeten the souls and bring new life to old bones, just speak sweetly, and honestly. Consideration, compliments, and kindness go a long long way!

 

I Remember

12 Sunday May 2019

Posted by in Reflections

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20190511_205124The cemetery was as silent yesterday as the gray drizzle hanging in the air. My daughter and I had come to place new flowers on my mother’s grave and to honor her with a moment of silence, standing over the plaque bearing her name. I did not cry over it as I knew she, herself, was not there, but in perfect peace, somewhere else; paradise some of us call it. I was able to feel immense gratitude for the life she lived, and for the time it was shared with us. We left the gloom just one purple bouquet brighter, and a mist in my eyes only because I would have loved to tell her once again that I love her. I wouldn’t wish here back here with all the bumps and bruises of this life.

The real tears I shed yesterday were for a friend I ran into, who is spending her first Mother’s Day without her beautiful daughter. I thought about all those who would awaken today without that one who was in their lives all too briefly. You who have lost children are in my heart today. I know you don’t need to be reminded that this is not what we call natural – to have children go on before you. No, but I believe you do need to know you are thought of, loved and appreciated for the strength you have gained on your journey. While I don’t pretend to understand, I offer my silent nod to your loss, your strength, and my sincere wishes for fulfillment, blessings and peace.

I remember you, I remember your loved one. Perhaps we had children in elementary school together. I may have met you recently; or may have known you most of my life. Maybe I worked with you when your world stood still;  or stood beside you as you said goodbye to your stillborn. It may be that I worship beside you, adoring the God Who blessed us with children. I may have stood in line one day with some comment or complaint that made you want to shake me. All your names, as many as I can remember, walk through my heart of prayer every week. My wish for you is to know that your children, no matter their age, are with the most loving Father we can imagine, Who loves them more than we can, ourselves. And there is a third grade teacher somewhere in the bliss they are now living, who would do anything in the world for a child if it were the Lord’s will to allow her to do so.

Happy Mother’s Day to you, and to my Mama, and to all women, who stand as role models in the world.

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making Mother’s Day memories, My daughter and me.

 

 

NICE DAY, Part 4: Angry Words Do Not Make Nice Days!

06 Monday May 2019

Posted by in Children, MONDAY MUSINGS, Reflections

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I think the first child’s antics are more surprising because young parents have no idea! No. Idea. At that stage, we haven’t even counted as high as the number of emotions, trials, and tests we’re about to encounter. Everything your first baby says and does is amazing and funny because, hey, you haven’t heard it before. And no matter how many others do the same things, you still laugh, because it really is funny! I never get tired of remembering ours, and hearing about others’ memories as well. While remembering the cute things kids have done and said is heart warming and good, I wonder if I am the only one who may once in a while, find those memories followed by an unpleasantness that doesn’t belong there. I’ll explain later.

Our son was our first born, surprising us one evening with an early labor, in breech position, arriving at 9:20 PM. He has been a late nighter ever since, and a late riser as well, so the sun was always up before he was. Even still, the bed and breakfast were about all he wanted of the house. As soon as he was tall enough to see out the window, he checked the weather first, and then would report to me, “It’s a shine-shiny day out, Mama!” Interpretation: I want to go outside. See, what this kid knew was that the indirect approach worked so much better that the direct. A bedtime fighter, he found any excuse he could to resist bedtime routine. I had to pin him to the floor to brush his teeth, while he sputtered, “But my lips are reflexive!”, followed by “I wanna watch Gonny Cawson (Johnny Carson)! As if! When he wanted to go fishing a few years later,  rather than beg to go, he tied a construction paper fish to a stick and held it out the door as I was coming inside. Written on it was “I got an itchin’ to go fishin’!” Sly little dude. Next came fifth grade, with Mrs. Pittman’s rule of  ‘no locker opens after class starts’…did I mention he procrastinated other things as well as bedtime? To see Dora Pittman tell this is quite funny, as she slides one arm slowly back, leaning ever so slyly toward an imaginary locker to retrieve a book that should have been out of there before the bell rang! Some 30 years later, she still calls him her ‘locker boy’.

Yes, memories are fun…but sometimes it gets painful. There’s a little black-caped masked demon about an inch tall that occasionally comes slinking into the picture of a good memory, and it’s name is Regret. I hate that imp! He messes with my mind, and if I give him any attention, he starts growing until he is bigger than the picture. That’s the unpleasantness I was referring to earlier. I’m guessing there is a trigger for almost anyone to be reminded of their failures, for we all have some sort of regrets I’ve been told. For me, the trigger is remembering my kids’ childhood which makes me ask, why is such an awesome responsibility placed into the hands of the inexperienced?? Now, I know most of you were nauseatingly good, patient, creative parents; I mistakenly thought I was at the time. Let me just cut through the chase and bare my blisters: CHILDREN WERE NOT MADE TO BE YELLED AT. There. That is my regret. I grasped at the details and missed the big beautiful picture. Math problems, tooth brushing and choosing which toy to take, should never be a source of pain or anxiety. These everyday life things can create havoc, or heaven. The things that we think must be done should never override patience and gentleness. I was given the most precious gifts on earth, and I let them and the Giver down when I lost control and yelled. Mamas and Daddies, no one else would tolerate our ill tempered yelling, so why dish it out on the very ones who love and trust us to be their Rock? Seriously, they need more good memories, not more math; calm evenings more than clean teeth; and the time it took to choose which truck to take with him could have been spent planning supper, or tickling him into a decision. I wonder how many times he was about to make a choice when I again, called “would you come on now!” Oh how that dastardly bandit Regret can run off with your fun! But, God is good, and has forgiven me. My children say there’s nothing to forgive or forget; they say they had a great childhood. The problem lies within where forgiveness does not come easily for ourselves. I’m working on it, but I still hate those angry words that messed up good days.

“If a person thinks himself to be religious and does not bridle his own tongue, but deceives his own heart, his religion is useless.” (James 1:26)

Lest I leave the impression that I was a total monster, I do have a memory of handling things well. This son of ours has an artist streak in him that was once used on the refrigerator, in crayon. I actually had a roll of film in the Kodak, and it makes a cute photo when a toddler is cleaning the refrigerator in his training pants. I think he was as proud of his job of removing the masterpiece as he was of making it.

cleaning up artwork
sneaking M&Ms

Happy Monday, stay calm, and make it a nice day! Go ahead and sneak a few M&Ms:)