Category Archives: Faith

Driven and Defended

07 Saturday Apr 2018

Posted by in Faith, Nature

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Once again I am driven by the cold wind to my laptop keyboard.  There’s hardly a discomfort that can’t be improved upon by a cup of coffee and a candle. My picks for today are Green Mountain Signature Blend and a Beehive Pot of Sugared Citron by Aspen Bay Candles. For December, January, February, and even the first part of March, I, like most of you, can gaze upon the glossy white of winter and find beauty and blessing in the frozen stillness of a winter snow. But this is April 7! The free-falling stuff  we awoke to this morning was just not what I wanted to see.

Worse than the white spread over tree blossoms, was the 28 to 32 degree temps of early morning. My first 7 AM thought was of the wheat crops, and for many farmers this late freeze will not be good news. My next thought was of intense gratitude for our daughter’s safe arrival to her home shortly before 2AM, after her Dallas flight had a three-hour delay. Last night I’d closed the front door on a driving north wind with a prayer that God would deliver her safely home, and He did. He no doubt heard my heart thinking, “I won’t even pray for the wheat crop because defending my girl is so much more important”.  So, as much as I wanted to complain this morning about the weather, it was overridden by the blessings of a warm home, happy hearts, and good health.

As I took Auggie out for a walk near noon, that north wind was still at work. Try as it did to remove my cloak of gratitude, I just pulled it more snuggly around me, as I also did with my fleese-lined coat. That reminded me of the childhood fable of the sun and the wind competing to see who would cause the traveler to remove his coat. Of course, the sun won. Like the warmth of the sun, which gave the traveler freedom to remove his heavy overcoat, the sword of the Spirit defends us against the drive of evil, that we may stand; (Ephesians 6:13, 17) and provides the freedom to remove an overcoat of fear, guilt and regret. Such a laden coat may hide our joyful cloak of gratitude.

In our north wind, Auggie and I walk briskly in the exposures between the large evergreens of our fencerow. Then we slow down and enjoy the protection from the wind as we reach the next tree. In a similar way, we enjoy amazing grace and protection in the wind break of our Lord. The elements of life can be pretty cold and fierce, but He beckons us to move in close to Him while we brace for the next wave of ‘whatever’. “How precious is Your lovingkindness, Oh God! Therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of Your wings.” (Psalm 36:7)

A bit of pulled pork and a jalapeño corn muffin later, I am enjoying the sun through my window. Mercifully, it has cut its way through the cold and cloudy sky. Our Redbud tree is glowing and the Yoshino Cherry blossoms seem happy enough dancing in the wind. Our days may be driven by the forces of nature, but our spirits are defended by a loving God whose Holy Spirit directs, and whose arms protect.

“For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” (Song of Solomon 2: 11-12)

 

In The Garden

24 Monday Jul 2017

Posted by in Faith, Nature

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You know, life’s just all about the garden! It did start there after all, in a place called Eden. (Genesis 1) Today, for example, started with a beautiful morning of worship (weeding out the week’s overgrowth of worldly cares from my heart). Then home to a lunch of mango-jicama salad (what’s more like a garden than a big bowl of crisp veggies and fruits?) Next I was off to a wedding shower for a young couple who will soon be starting their own home; so in love that one could easily imagine cupids lacing strands of pink roses over and around them. (Love blooms so sweetly in the dawn of life – much like my rose garden when the year is young). Home again, to canning another seven quarts of green beans (gardens’ bounty this year) for my daddy’s table. (Those in the winter of life lose the ability to do such things, same as winter’s ground will no longer be able to produce the bounty.) Just as the last steaming quart was placed on the pad of towels to cool, it was time for the quarterly revealing of our Secret Sunshine Sisters. The best thing about this fun activity is getting to know more about a sister in Christ than we previously had a chance to do in our busy lives. Friendships blossom and set seeds for many years to come. (Without the re-seeding of many of our flowers, landscape would grow bleak after a short season.) I have a patch of Four O’Clocks that are from the seed given me by my great aunt Treva Jones Darnell. That was around 30 years ago. These wonderful fragrant blooms drop seeds that just keep producing more and more abundantly. I gathered those and was able to move their happiness with me when we moved..MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

There’s some degree of effort to saving seed, planting, and caring for growing things, but the results are so very worth it. Just what about all this labor of love anyway? We know where that began too! Yes, back in Eden. The beast and the beauty, the burden and the bounty; if a thing is worth having, there’s a price to pay. From preparing the soil, to preserving the surplus, it can be delightful or burdensome, depending on one’s frame of mind. The beast of sin was driven out by the beauty of God’s amazing grace when He decided to let mankind continue to enjoy the marvelous creation of earth. Albeit, more work than they’d ever imagined would be the price to pay!  Not too unlike raising children; we can’t deny the blood, sweat, and tears involved in raising them, but having looked into those spellbinding eyes and watching them blossom into their own, makes it all worth while. I’ve always said my kids were my favorite flowers in my garden of life! Who hasn’t? We might also claim they can be the thorns too at times, right? Still worth it all!  “I love them a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck.” And I sure do miss my butterfly kisses:)

From our hour of laughter and gifting this evening, we were privileged to end our day with another hour of worship. Praising together our mighty God, the Healer of our souls; sowing seeds of fellowship; gathering grains of truth and wisdom; strolling hand in hand with Jesus through the garden of prayer.

I leave you with a quote from an English poet:

The kiss of the sun for pardon, The song of the birds for mirth, One is nearer God’s heart in a garden than anywhere else on earth.  (“God’s Garden” lines 13-16 by Dorothy Frances Gurney)

Hand In Hand

23 Friday Jun 2017

Posted by in Faith, inspiration

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Yesterday I saw a child walking with his grown-up across a parking lot. He was just about mid-thigh high to the man, holding hands, and talking as they proceeded. As the child kept up the adult pace with his quick little steps, his head was darting back and forth from the path of where they were walking, to the direction of the man. He obviously wanted to see the object of his animated conversation, as well as watch where he was going. I wanted to keep watching them, but we were headed into an appointment and I had my own person to keep up with. However, I couldn’t get the little fellow out of my mind all day.

Lately I’ve been hearing what could be called a cliché in the Christendom. When I hear someone say, “God showed up” at a particular time for them, I feel concern that they may have missed out on walking with God. God is omnipresent, and omniscient – all-knowing and present everywhere at the same time – for all eternity. Highlights from Psalm 139 tell us this. “Oh Lord, You have searched me and known me, You know my sitting down and my rising up; You understand my thought afar off….not a word on my tongue, but behold, O Lord, You know it altogether…such knowledge is too wonderful for me;… where can I go from Your Spirit?…If I ascend into heaven…make my bed in hell…take the wings of the morning…dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there, Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me.” (verses 1-10 in part)  As for our access to Him, “in whom (Christ Jesus) we have boldness and access with confidence through faith in Him” (Ephesians 3:12). So, I can’t think of God in terms of simply ‘showing up’ at times of dire need. When we respond to God’s invitation to live an eternal life with Him, we are like the child walking hand in hand with his or her grown-up. God is there whether we are paying attention or not. He is there to lift us when we stumble, fall, and reach out for help. He is also there by our side protecting us, pulling us along when we need encouragement, and never unaware of our steps. We are led by the hand of God’s Word; we are comforted and heard by the Holy Spirit just as Jesus promised as He was leaving to sit at the right hand of God the Father.  I do get it though, when speakers are expressing their belief in God’s interventions – they mean to give God the credit for the good that came out of a situation, or the rescue they experienced. And that is good! I’ve been guilty of clichés like “it was a God thing” or “a God moment’ so I know what they meant. But hearing that lately, coupled with the walking twosome, I felt God showing me a similitude for His presence. But to phrase it as ‘God showed up’ just somehow cuts short the constant relationship God’s children have with Him.

After observing the child and his precious walk with his grown-up, I thought about our walk with our heavenly Father. Thankfully, we do not have to worry whether or not He is seeing and hearing us. We don’t have to settle for just glancing in His direction like the little tyke who found it impossible to get a good look up into the man’s face and watch his own step at the same time. No, we can stop, and look fully into His marvelous face, which is in fact His desire. (“Be still and know that I am God” Psalm 46:10).  He is not bound, bent, nor burdened with the cares of this world as our earthly grown-ups are. Nor is He racing the clock. He made time itself, and  takes all of it He wants to accomplish anything He wants to. So as He holds our hand in traveling our time here, we have a constant defender, helper, and guide. Isn’t it grand to picture ourselves as that little boy I saw yesterday, carefree to talk our entire heart out to our Father, knowing that if we DO keep our eyes on Him, we will never lose our way and nothing can come between us.

Dear God, I ask You to bless us with the peace of knowing a closer walk with You. It is my prayer that my words bring encouragement to others and glory to Your name. Keep holding my hand Lord; thank You for this and all other blessings. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Healing the Hurt

19 Sunday Mar 2017

Posted by in Faith, Life, Nursing

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Let’s sit and talk for a moment about your pain. I’ll pour a cup of coffee, and you can pour out your heart.

If you are among those who have experienced emotional hurt, harbored old wounds, or are in a painful place now, then this is for you. If you are in the number of people involved with helping a loved one with any such painful issues, then this is also for you. Because deep wounds cause scars and scars don’t go away; because seeing a loved one hurt, hurts too; and because those valid sources of pain are ever present, most if not all, at some point, need help.

Not a counselor, nor trained beyond the brief introduction we get from nursing psychology, I am addressing this subject only from the heart of someone who cares. Neither have I had enough life experience to feel like an expert. However, there is nothing new under the sun,  (Ecclesiastes 1:9) and if we are careful observers of life, we learn as we go. The Preacher of Ecclesiastes went on to say, “What is crooked cannot be made straight, and what is lacking cannot be numbered.” (1:15) Why then is it that people keep trying to go back and change the past? The past IS part of who I am, what I’ve become, for better or worse, built up or eroded. Whatever it was, it cannot be changed; but it can be used for  building blocks to a better self, and compassion for others. If I could change anything, it would be to plant that notion firmly in the minds of some who are futilely struggling to remake the past. Looking for comfort from the Spirit of God this morning, I was reading in Colossians, though I can’t recall why at the moment. Do you ever find some matter of your heart shows up in the scripture you go to next? I do, and  what I want to recall here is chapter 3, verses 12-14.”Therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, put on tender mercies, kindness, humility, meekness, long-suffering; bearing with one another, and forgiving one another if anyone has a complaint against another; even as Christ forgave you, so you also must do. But ABOVE ALL THESE THINGS”(emphasis mine), “put on love, which is the bond of perfection.” Holding on to the embedded notions of unworthiness, low self-esteem, or holding a grudge is caustic to the healing process. No good thing can grow in that environment. The continued desire to change the past by rehashing it and reopening old wounds will never change it. Rather, it allows it to breed toxins and fester into problems with our present relationships. Oh how I want to erase things from the minds of those in such anguish; until I remember that all we experience is who we are. And I wouldn’t want to change who they are;  just heal the pain. All we can do from here on, is let it go and allow fresh granulation tissue to fill the wounds. The scar will certainly be there, but it should become a healthy, healed body.

As I was  pondering the way people tend to use the past as a propellent for all future feelings, I thought about why some wounds heal and some do not. In nursing, I saw wounds that healed nicely, minimal scarring, and no residual stiffness. Then there were wounds that seemed destined for trouble. They developed infection, complete with all the different  microbes and resulting nastiness possible. From the small gaps where the edges just fought coming together, to the gaping holes of purulent evidence, there was resistance to heal. Those require treatments that can be very painful, and usually have extensive scarring that interferes with surrounding healthy tissue, possibly causing less mobility if not worse. Two main factors make the difference in how the healing goes. Those are first, the condition of the host – the tissue and  the supporting system; and  secondly, how the wound is being treated. Relating this to the psychological wounds is pretty easy. How was the victim developing as a person before the painful encounter? That would be like the condition of the tissue. Was there a support system to help his or her emotional healing? That would be like the immune system. Did they ask for and get help, or meet with refusal to acknowledge the source of injury? That would be the medical community and infection control. (Now don’t go calling the person who inflicted this emotional wound, an infectious microbe!😁) Most importantly, does the host, that is, the person cut by life’s sharp edges, know where to turn. That might be the follow-up, self-care or home health.

When a deep scar has developed in one’s heart, it is so important that they know how to unclench their grasp on that piece of the past; a piece that has been so much a part of who they are.  I believe we can get so wrapped up in some thorn in the flesh that we aren’t sure what kind of person we will be without it. I believe the Word of God has the best salve for the wounds, if we can just help those in pain to see it – really grasp and understand it. “And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called in one body; and be thankful.” Colossians 3:15. Pointing to that peace as our loved ones struggle may involve a pain of its own. Our pain becomes real as the victims smother out all efforts with a toxic attitude. Attitudes toward life are formed early, and are the hardest thing to overcome if they are not healthy ones. We see them still struggling with self-image but we know they are wonderful people capable of great things. When we see the scabs knocked off before the healing is done, and we see the stoic set of their jaw, we cry their tears for them. And then there’s the ‘wound care’. Though it may seem calloused, we have to debride the unhealthy tissue, and that may be painful as they recognize the actual source of infection is their own refusal to let go. It will also be painful to experience again the original injury as they bring it to the surface, where it can be purged from its viable strength.  Once they are forced to own the pain and give it away to God, then they must be encouraged to leave it there. Leave. It. There. Don’t allow them to continue to bring back up what they have longed to put down. Similar to someone with a weight problem staying away from the cookie jar, these dear souls with bad memories must stop going back there to a bad place.  Encourage them to search the word of the only One Who truly knows what they’ve endured and having created us, knows best what works for us. What Paul the Apostle said of his goal to serve Christ, is good for us as we work toward our goals – “forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize…” (Philippians 3:13b-14a). Paul had caused trauma and suffering for others, as well as suffered many severe hardships himself. He was fully aware of how much we might need to forget.

“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 That is our house favorite.

So as I wait for all the pain in the world to be healed, and all creation whole once again, I will do what I can for whom I can.  It may be only a smile here, a pat on the back there; a hug for those accepting it, a willing ear and a word of encouragement. Let it go, like the movie Frozen taught us. Move on toward  taking what you are (…”that whatsoever state I am in, therewith to be content” Phil. 4:11) and  allowing God to transform and renew you into the best you that you have ever been. And as I watch I will keep my favorite prayers alive for you. Those are found in Isaiah 40:31 (teach me Lord to wait) and Micah 6:8, that you will know all that’s required of you is to “do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.” You don’t have to move the mountain; you may only need to hold God’s hand as he leads you through the pass.

Now, cream or sugar with that cup of coffee? as we put a bandaid on your booboo.

Good Day, Bad Day – All in One’s Perspective

05 Thursday Jan 2017

Posted by in Faith, The unexpected

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I’ve heard trouble comes in threes. I had one such day on Monday, the second day of the new year. I however, do not say it was a bad day. No day is bad since it is one more window of time the Lord has provided with much potential, and always full of blessings. Even if we can’t see them through the mud on our panes, they are there.  I was blessed with the laughter and chatter of two little girls in my house that day. My great-niece and our neighbor’s little girl had a play day and they never missed a moment, filling the house with activities for the dolls and imaginary pets. I stayed out of their way and got a kick out of listening to the scenarios they created. Oh yes, I was about to tell of my trio of troubles that day.

First, as I finished ironing a shirt, (and it just had to be one of those long ‘boyfriend style’ shirts, light blue and white) I missed the hanger and dropped the shirt into the wax warmer plug-in that WAS beneath the ironing board. The scented wax was red. The red wax was scattered along one sleeve and shoulder as well as the hem. Luckily it dries quickly and seemed like it would peel off, but no, I soon saw that the color and waxy feel were not giving up. I decided to put the shirt into the freezer and hoped that would cause the wax to chip away cleanly, and the warmer found another receptacle in which to reside. I finished my ironing and made lunch for the girls and myself. A while after lunch they wanted popsicles and I sent them to the freezer to make their selection. The shirt! They hadn’t found that to be an obstacle, or even something to report to me. You’d think finding a shirt folded up in the freezer drawer would seem odd to 7 and 8 year olds, wouldn’t you? When I remembered it, I hurried in there to find the shirt wadded up and moved aside, but no worse off. The wax hadn’t let go, either. Spot remover and rewashing took care of the situation just fine; so the blessing is that I’ve moved a potential problem that could have involved a not so easily laundered item.

Later on the girls wanted to watch a movie. Upon return with the DVD from another room I was met by a kitchen floor full of milk splattered over an area of about five by ten feet and a little blond-haired girl down on her hands and knees trying to wipe it up  with a single paper towel. I couldn’t think of where to start so I heard myself exclaiming, “I just don’t understand – lunch at the dining room table was over – where did this come from – I thought you were waiting for the movie – Izzy please just go back and get a bunch of paper towels for me.” She brought both, yes, both the remaining two towels on the roll. I decided to get their movie going before tackling the clean up, just to find the stupid DVD/TV/Remote team weren’t playing nicely together and it was getting rather warm about that time. Finally the movie Frozen was playing and I thanked Izzy for trying to help clean up, reminded her of the “only covered cups for the living room” rule, and fetched my mop and bucket. My blessing? Izzy had dropped the cup on her way into the living room, not on the sofa one foot away, not on the rug beneath the table where she started, and hallelujah! not on the king sized quilt tent covering the breakfast table two inches from the edge of the spilled milk. Floors, chairs, and walls can be wiped down and little girls can be happy again. As I finished the second mopping, the thought popped into my head that troubles come in threes.

Now, the incident that got my blog brain going happened when I took the girls home. Neighbor delivered to her parents, and niece delivered to her home, I was contemplating going home for a nap versus stopping to visit my dad. The idea of getting home prevailed as I was leaving the final drop off point. Then my phone rang and my dad said, “What happened to you?” I asked, “what do you mean?” He replied, “well, you just took off  without saying anything, is something wrong?” “Daddy, I’m just leaving Jessi’s driveway; I haven’t been by your house”. Pause. “Trisha, we just saw your car out here in our driveway, and it looked like you were on your phone so we waved at you and waited, but then you just backed out of the driveway and slowly drove on down the street.” He was so sure of what he’d seen that I almost questioned my sanity (after all it had been a full night and day with my guests) but I assured him that no, I had not been anywhere near his driveway. I told him I had thought about coming by to visit, but was not dressed to be seen, hair uncombed, and felt like going home for a nap. To which he uncharacteristically said, “we don’t care what you look like – we’d just like a visit”. By then I was nearing their neighborhood and felt like my car was going to turn in his direction even if I didn’t, as if a force was exerted by the puzzling experience and I  looked forward to hearing details of what they saw that made him think it was me. We visited for about an hour, more or less, and they both explained in detail how she had looked out one window, told him I was in the driveway, he looked out a door, waved and stepped back inside to find in a few moments that the car was leaving, and the two of them said I had to be called right then to see if something was wrong at home perhaps. All of that at the very moment I would have been traveling toward the state highway on my way home. Later, as I actually was driving home after my visit, I encountered a clean up crew about half way home where there had been a fairly serious accident. My blessing? I don’t think I have to explain that one for you. I have a chill just retelling it. Now, arriving home, engine turned off, I heard the third trouble for the day. My right rear tire was spewing loudly and I found a piece of metal in it. Obviously I picked it up on my way home, probably where the accident had occurred.  The leak was slow enough that I had time to drive it over to my husband’s shop where he could take the tire off under shelter and, long story short, it was a $12.50 repair the next day. A piece from a windshield wiper is what the repairman said it was.

Now, some would say that if I hadn’t stopped at Dad’s, I wouldn’t have damaged the tire; and that things don’t happen for any reason. Others might say the timing was too close and if I hadn’t stopped I could have been involved in the accident myself. We never did figure out who has a vehicle so much like mine that my own dad thought it was me. Some say we entertain angels unaware. No matter which camp you’re in, I say I am one very blessed woman; a daughter of the King, and of a very good daddy too.

“I walk with the King, through pastures so green; by quiet waters still to do His good will. He lighteth the way, from darkness to day, I’ll hold to His hand, I walk with the King.” (words and music by Alton H. Howard) I’ve always loved that song.

The whole thing really stirred my heart with that “providence of God” thing we wrestle from time to time. Whatever we do in word or deed, we are to do all in the name of the Lord. So I don’t want to sound ungrateful by denying His hand in how things turned out. Neither do I want to say everything is guided by or happens for a purpose. Too many things happen that we just cannot find a good reason for and I think partly, stuff just happens. Minor things like flat tires and major things like loss of life; no apparent reason. But, the more I think about God, the more He engages my life, and the more I am influenced by His will. Those little voices in our heads that make our decisions are guided by something, the influences in our lives,  kind of like ‘out of the heart flow the issues of life’.  So deciding to spend time at Dad’s really was something I had been considering because of several influences. One, various proverbs from the bible caution us to respect the elderly, appreciate time spent on others, and so forth. Then there’s the blessing from God of still having a parent around to visit and still learn life stuff from him. Thirdly, because I love that Jesus said the kingdom of Heaven is ‘of such ‘ as little children, I love spending time with them and learning more of those traits. So in those three ways God did orchestrate my day. I guess what I can take away from all that is to train those voices that you hear to be good ones, and then listen to them. It could save the day – or not. Think what you will, I’ll always believe an angel or the Lord Himself was guiding me that afternoon. A good day, or a bad day? Definitely it was a good day!

Tranquility: Stillness to Experience More

16 Wednesday Sep 2015

Posted by in Faith, Nature, Reflections

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Sunday, September 13, 2015

Anyone in western Kentucky is enjoying one of those days that is simply indescribable. Worship, rest, play, visit, work – whatever we are doing today, is a notch better than usual due to the combination of warm sun and cool breeze. This is the time of year, as I’ve always said, when I come to life and my writing picks up a little. After church I made a small lunch and we hit the patio chairs for a sunny snooze. (Boy are we getting old or what?) After an hour or so – who’s counting? – my writer’s bug bit me, and here it is.

Monday, September 14, 2015:  OK, rather than remain seated yesterday to finish writing, I chose to call for a couple of bright-eyed fellow fun-lovers to finish off that scrumptuous slice of day. Knowing my younger great-niece wanted to learn to ride her bike without training wheels, I ended up with two giggling little girls and running a “keep up with the wobbly bike” marathon. I really didn’t think I could run any more than a few feet, but when a five-year old trusts you to catch her, you run along side for all you’re worth! It now comes to me that the rest and meditation earlier in the afternoon prepared me for the run of the day. Aha, Lord, I believe I see yet another everyday proof of your wisdom! The more we stop to meditate on your word, storing up your truth, donning the whole armor of God as in Ephesians 6: 10-20, the more we are able to withstand, persevere, and become ambassadors for the gospel of Christ in this race of life.

Perhaps, at this point I want to insert what I wrote Sunday as I sat with my husband after lunch.

I know I should be doing something, but I am completely mesmerized by this day.

I’ve watched the tufts of white clouds which appeared as hypnotized as I, slip magically away.

We’ve basked ourselves in the perfectly warm sun, and cooled under the umbrella, with the breeze.

I’ve listened to that first faint rustle of the drying pre-autumn leaves.

We watched the busy hummingbirds chase each other away, sip and chat loudly – proclaiming victory or daring others to play.

The cat is just as contented as I to merely watch the butterflies ; and I hear my husband whisper ‘thank you Lord’ resting body, mind and eyes.

So, a deep breath again, I enjoy the aroma of a distant tobacco barn in the sweet cool September air,

As I watch a little brown and yellow moth explore my hand, test and taste without a care.

He now perches on my pen as I dawdle, and then write (for that is what I do);

And I think to myself, for all of this and so much more, Heavenly Father I thank you!

 The cat now ready to do life again pounces on a grasshopper, and I’m entertained by the two.

My husband, now strengthened from his rest, gone to whatever he had to do.

Like the Lord’s sabbath and His will for us so still to be

and know that He is God, must be why He provided such a day of tranquility.

“Be still and know that I am God;” Psalms 46:10

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight oh Lord my strength and my Redeemer.” Psalms 19:14 (emphasis mine)

“The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament shows His handiwork…” Psalms 19:1

Wednesday, September 16, 2015    Today would have been my Mama’s 84th birthday. She had a bitter-sweet taste for these beautiful days of Fall. She had loved this time of year so much, then she lost her daddy in October and later her mother and sweet sister in two years of Septembers. Fall took on a cloak of sadness for her; although she still was comforted by the beauty in it. So today Mama, I know you feel the warmth and bliss that you once did on days like this; when you were young, full of faith and hope. But now young forever, knowing now the one in whom your faith took hold, and all your hopes now live fulfilled. I’m so blessed to be your daughter, and a daughter of the King who created all this that is good.

Heavy to Bear: The Story of an Old Church Pew

18 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by in Faith, Life, Reflections, Uncategorized

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In our garage sits a new occupant, temporarily there; another project awaiting good intentions and a bit of loving care. Given to us by my daddy a year and a half ago, all we had to do was drive down, load it up and haul it home. It’s an old bench, a pew from the church of daddy’s youth, one left after the building was gone, the members too few. Would we like to have it, was his question one day, and we figured, sure, we could use it somewhere, some way. Going to get the pew was a thought from time to time but it wasn’t something we’d put to plan and so it slipped my mind. This morning was a rare time with us both available and so, when the thought of that pew on our porch popped to mind, I said “Lets just go”. Now Dad had warned us that we’d be needing help, but of strong body and stubborn mind, we headed off to do it ourselves.

We all know that in the days of little convenience and less demand, things were made stronger, heavier, investing more time, and often by hand. Did I mention HEAVIER? as in solid wood; 12 feet long, 2 feet wide, and waist-high the old girl stood. Partly dragging and partly lifting, taking two steps and then a stop, we maneuvered her onto the trailer, eased her down on her back, and strapped across the top. My mind filled with questions I’d like to ask that pew, and my husband even expressed that he had a question or two. Did I ever sit on that very same seat, visiting with Aunt Kathryne which was always a treat. Did my grandmother sit there, or my cousin Jan with her friends; how many times did she hear an ‘amen’. How many sweethearts’ vows were heard, and who came to obedience from that very seat at hearing the Word?  How many burdens were dropped right there as heavy hearts listened to a righteous man’s prayer? The weight of the pew itself lent to me, the thought that burdens are expected, when gifts are free. We are told we must each bear our own cross, as the Savior did first, and paid a great cost for the gift He gave of eternal life, passing to each of us the will to live and love with true sacrifice.

“And he bearing His cross went forth into a place called the place of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew, Golgotha; where they crucified Him, …” (John 19:17-18)

And so, after a thought-filled ride back home, we unloaded the heavy burden, set her upright with a groan; there I saw four little reminders of the lives she had seen – objects fallen from the songbook racks on the back of the seat. Two small soft white ponytail bands, a penny and a red pencil trimmed down to two inches I held in my hand. How fitting I thought, that for all that time, the pew had held tokens of childhood like a sign. As the Christ had spoken centuries ago “Allow the little children to come unto me and forbid them not for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 19:14)  The penny as well, so fitting, because religion is not about how much we have, but how much we are giving. That little red pencil was still sharp, but the eraser had hardened over time, and spoke to me of talents and then age came to mind. Although time does take its toll, there are many talents yet to use, love to give, miles to go. Unable to erase, if you’ll pardon the pun, the marks of time and the deeds that were done, that pencil stayed sharp,ready for command, to do whatever directed by some master’s hand.

And at the end of the day, it came to me how neat that we’d thought about going to get that church pew a few days before Easter. At a time when much of the world will be focused on the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and the gift of eternal life He gave us, we brought home another free gift. I’ve heard it said that with freedom comes responsibility. Likewise, with freedom from the burden of carrying our own sins, comes the responsibility of obedience to the One who made it so. These words of Christ after the resurrection are recorded in Matthew: “Go therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit; teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” (Matthew 28: 19-20) The pew from my dad carried with it the burden of moving it, and later that of cleaning and painting perhaps, but also was a gift of love, memories, and a great place to sit and ponder all the treasures from our heavenly Father. So, heavy is subject to interpretation it seems, as it is all relative; some burdens we bear for the joys that they bring.

“Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into His glory?” Luke 24:26   “And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not for I know that you seek Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; for He is risen, as He said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.” Matthew 28:5-6

In my faith, we celebrate the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ every first day of the week. I enjoy however, seeing so much more of the world taking time this week to remember the burden He bore for us, and acknowledging His great love. Happy Easter. Hey, do they make coffee flavored easter eggs? Yum.

My Coffeetable

01 Saturday Mar 2014

Posted by in Faith, Life, Reflections

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It is Saturday, and without kids still at home, I have the privilege of time. Time to sit quietly with my coffee and whatever comes to mind – or just sit, mindlessly. It’s cold outside, warm in here, and suddenly the warmth of my old solid maple coffee table takes command of my thoughts. I realize how she sets the tone in our living room, grounding it, as the hub of it. She seems to have spokes that point back to the past; to the present as it holds today’s periodicals, mail, projects, and just stuff; and pointing as well toward the future with her solid structure saying, ” I’m here for you as long as you need me”. And I BEGIN TO REMEMBER….So, with the way I’m wired, I start to see symbolism, and spiritual applications in the everyday things, and feel that certain writer’s compelling need to share.

First, I’ll try to show you our coffee table. It is a golden brown solid maple, put together with pegs; it has two drop leaves and is round until the leaves are dropped when it becomes a rectangle with curved ends. There are six legs, also solid and rounded with a simple round foot on each. Two of the legs slide outward forming the base for the leaves when they are up. A shallow drawer on each end has the early American brass plate with a handle that softly cla-clanks against the plate when the drawer is opened. One drawer has held various art supplies since my adult children were very small, and the table was then in my mother’s living room. Children love this table; probably because it is down on their level, a little stage for whatever they want to play. They are drawn to it, and I know this because it has been in our family since long before I had children. When I hear the cla-clank of the handle, I know the magical drawer of creative possibilities has been opened; and that watchful eyes need to be present, to watch for markers destined for the sofa or walls, and to praise the fine artwork of young hands. AND I REMEMBER, “Allow the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 19:14. I wish I could reach every pair of little hands that have played around this table and impress upon them how very important they are and how the Lord God loves them.

Another feature of my coffee table is that it has no apron nor surround about the edge. I am able to stretch my legs out and use it for an ottoman. Oh yes! we do put our feet on the coffee table! We can easily reach over from the couch, and slide a coffee cup or a dish onto and off of the table edge without even raising up. I had one of those little mahogany colored lightweights with the table top dropped inside a skirted edge for a short while and it was not user friendly. It went back to the yard sale world. So as I sit here now with my feet upon the table that I love so much, I REMEMBER, “Come to me all you who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest” said Jesus in Matthew 11:28. How many tiring days have ended with my feet propped upon that table, and my petitions and praise offered to the Lord!

The most important feature I want you to see, is what time has put on it. Many marks of time are in the form of scratches, cracks, dings and color variations. Oh what a flood of memories these hold! The memories go back as far as 1970 when my mother was introduced to furniture stripping. She and her good friend found this coffee table at an auction, thought it had good bones, and she brought it home. The old green paint was stripped off and they found a beautiful maple table beneath. That reminds me how Mama was always good at drawing the good out of people also. She didn’t judge a book by its cover, or a table by its paint, but looked deeply for the good. As each grandchild was born he or she grew to enjoy playing at Granny’s coffee table. My daughter kept “office supplies” in one drawer and played for hours and hours there. She posted office names on every door in her Granny’s house, and the coffee table was her headquarters. My son put several dings in the wood with a little toy pistol and sent many herds of animals running across the broad brown surface. He took sled and sleigh ornaments off the tree and pulled them all over the coffee table. My sister’s children next, and then our brother’s children, all making their own form of fun at Granny’s table, until she charitably handed it down to me when we had none. AND I REMEMBER, “give, and it will be given to you; good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap.” Luke 6:38. And she passed from here with a full heart, a full house, so much given, so much received! I see now where this was going – it’s not about a table, or the coffee, nor the nicks and dings. It’s about the traces we leave behind.

Now Mother’s great-grands play at Aunt Trisha’s coffee table. One very dear little boy, a friend’s son who calls me Aunt held onto that table every time they came, until he could walk. Like my son, and nephews, he operated tractors, and matchbox cars over the fields of my coffee table. The great nieces and children of friends have made master pieces on this table with the crayons and markers, construction paper and coloring books I keep in the one drawer. Candles and walkie-talkies for finding our way before cell phones, are kept in the other one. The table has endured among other things, a 10 month storage where it suffered mildew I had to remove; being faded on one end by a sunny window; being kicked by three different ones of us wearing orthopedic boots; sports the scratches of a high speed chase by my daughter’s dog across the table; and has worn snow scene displays and candles dripping through many holiday seasons. Babies have drooled on it, banged toys on it, and learned to walk holding to it. We eat, drink, and laugh around it. Homework, hobbies, and games have found it a great place to land. My favorite occupants for now, includes a stack of magazines, a basket from Guyana, the Bible, and my coffee cup. Each time I clean it, I relish the marks of loved ones and what they’ve left behind. “In everything give thanks.”

I set down my coffee cup, now unconcerned with the possibility of leaving a smudge, and run my hand along the smooth surface, remembering, lovingly, those who’ve gathered round and used this coffee table. Some who are no longer coming and going here in our house, but whose marks are here – beautiful memories – nicked, dinged, kicked, scratched and marked in time. I’m pretty sure that circle on this end of the table was put there by me; it fits my coffee mug perfectly.

The Cream in my Coffee: a Tale of Two Sisters

11 Saturday Jan 2014

Posted by in Children, Faith, Life

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The dead of winter has never been an inspirational time for me. The things that usually inspire me to write are sunshine, autumn and spring, beginnings and endings, children and aging – all that, but January, hmmmm, not a lot. Only two things have been the cream in my cup of January. One, fresh starts are nice, so the first week of January feels good to start cleaning out and cleaning up. Secondly, my little sister’s birthday is in January and I always enjoyed helping Mama try to make it special for her at a time when we were usually snowed in. Thinking of her childhood, I was reminded of a sweet story she told me recently. So to warm up today’s cold winter weather, I want to share a little piece of my sister’s life that was truly the cream in my coffee, so to speak.

As we all learned from Mr. Linkletter and Mr. Cosby, kids do say the funniest things, and I absolutely relish the things that come out of their little minds. My sister has two little granddaughters, and the following conversation occurred between the two of them. Their ages at the time were 7, and “almost 4!” years old. They are in the back seat of the car, and have no idea their Mimi and Pawpa are listening, and the discussion of genealogy has somehow come about.

K (the 7 year old, wise beyond her years): “I’m older than you because I was in Mommy’s belly before you and you came later after I was out.”

I (the 3 year old):”Why wasn’t I in Mommy’s belly the same time you were?”

K: Isabella, I was there first, and after they cut me out, then you were put there, and they cut you out, so I came first.”

I: (with trembling lips and shaky voice) “But it was dark in my Mommy’s belly and I needed a flashlight; why weren’t you there with me?” (tears)

K:” Isabella, when I was put there, you were up in Heaven with God, and you were still in God’s imagination, so He put you there after I got cut out.”

I don’t know about you, but when I first heard this, I had tears in my eyes and goosebumps! The old adage ‘out of the mouth of babes…’, right? “Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee…” Jeremiah 1:5  “For thou hast possessed my reins; thou has covered me in my mother’s womb.” Psalms 139:13

I knew immediately that I truly wanted an avenue by which I could share this delightful conversation between my great nieces. I hope you enjoyed it. Now my coffee is cold, but my heart is warmed with the cream of a child’s heart; and the knowledge that when we feel alone and in need of a flashlight, we are held in the imagination of a great and loving God, Who had a plan for us from before the beginning.