Category Archives: Life

Speaking Of Jesus…

18 Wednesday Mar 2020

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Another cold Kentucky rain; more rain then we can welcome over the past few weeks; months actually. But the land isn’t barren, nor parched. There are blessings in showers. And our house is dry, warm and comfortable. I thank God.

I didn’t want to start another day hearing more news of COVID-19, nor of storms gathering; nor of nations deceiving one another. I just wanted to cook breakfast with a peaceful joy. In all the sorrows and fears among the people today, you may feel as helpless as I in changing any of the chaos. Though my devotion time would come after breakfast, I felt an uneasiness, kind of like a shadow over me that I needed to shake. I think it is knowing our weekly bible study as a group, to do our part in trying to shut down transmission of the disease, will not be meeting. There is also the ‘dis-ease’ of having our schedules interrupted, and feeling the uncertainties of living with a new enemy in our country. There is the ‘dis-ease’ of knowing there will be repercussions in the economy we have not experienced before. It is scary. It is worrisome. Needing a light to draw me out of the growing darkness until I could open God’s lamp of the Word, I asked our kitchen resident, Hey Google, to play some praise music.

God cared for my distress in a beautiful way. The first song of praise Google played for me this morning is called I Speak Jesus by Here Be Lions. I had never heard of the artist nor the song. But I am so thankful for this wonderful moment of praise as I cooked our breakfast. I later looked up the lyrics on my laptop and played the song over two more times, sang along and was reminded of the power over chaos, that lives in Jesus. And I thanked God; for music, for praise and for hope.

Yes, there is an all-knowing Power over fear; an ever-present healing over illness; an ever-loving Life over this lowly life. His name is Jesus. “Your name is Power, your name is healing, your name is life…break every stronghold, shine through the shadows, burn like a fire” (chorus of the song).

I urge you to Google, or You-tube, or find in whatever manner suits you, the song “I Speak Jesus”. It is amazing!!

“Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13 (NKJV)

Roses Are Red, Pansies Are Yellow; I Get to Do Life With a Mighty Fine Fellow.

14 Friday Feb 2020

Posted by in Family, Life, The unexpected

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Valentine’s Day at 46 years of marriage looks a great deal different from those first few years and before. Today went like this, at 8 AM:

  • G: “Aww, you got me again!”
  • Me: “Well it’s just a card, and you asked me so many times what I wanted, how could I forget?”
  • G: “Well you said ‘I don’t want anything’ “.
  • Me: “I said I didn’t want you spending on stuff I can’t keep and if you brought candy, I’d crown you with it!”
  • G: “I’m sorry.”
  • Me: “You have nothing to be sorry about; you always go overboard on Christmas and gave me my valentine, birthday, Christmas and Mother’s Day gifts at one time. So hush.”

Out for breakfast, back home, took my doggie out and back in to find hubby, feet up in his recliner. I thought, no way can I listen to another episode of Gunsmoke! So, off to a nap. I have the luxury of that today, which is better than a whole truckload of gifts. Fast forward, post-nap, house is empty, sun is shining, I’m feeling pretty good, planning a little supper hubby will like – by the way, where is he?

Three PM, door bell rings. There stands G., holding a single red rose in a lovely vase of greenery, and said “delivery for my girlfriend.”  Zing! Boom!

You just can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Suddenly I remembered that I had started a blog post a few years back, Old Roses and Whine; I don’t think I ever finished it. In it I mention that I have a jar full of old rose petals from occasions I have forgotten. The point being that it is the intent of the heart that matters when it comes to men; not the timing, nor the gift; the heart.

Forty years ago I’d have thought the setting of the sun depended on my getting a valentine or not. It did not; and I did not. Watching all those sun ups and sun downs for forty plus years was the real gift! Those years taught me that the heart expecting something is nowhere near as happy as the heart that does not expect, but is grateful for what already is.

When the center of your heart belongs to God, and you already have Him, the rest is just fluff. Really nice fluff, for sure, but still just fluff.

 

 

Holding Onto Life

24 Sunday Nov 2019

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Attending the funeral of a young(ish) woman today, I was stricken with two things. One, I seem to be attending a lot of funerals lately, so that’s where my writing engine often is fueled.  The second is this. In thinking about how suddenly her sweet life was ended here, and as the preacher said, it is coming to us all whether sudden or not, I thought, wow, the effort most of us put into living is quite backwards. At least, for me it is. The child of God has His promise (He cannot lie and is the author of our salvation) that life after earthly life is perfect if we accept His way – that is, eternal life extended through His Son, Jesus Christ. On the other hand, this earthly existence we call ‘life’ is full of uncertainty day and night; heartache, disappointments, and pain are not really that uncommon, right? Does anyone know for sure what tomorrow will hold? With all the joyful blessings we have here in this life, none of it is guaranteed to be here another day. And yet, we hold onto this life with Everything. We. Have.

I’m not saying this life is unimportant. On the contrary, anything from God is significant and to be cherished. What I am saying is, do I hold so tightly to the uncertain, that I miss the certain? Yes, sadly I do. Spending? Just look at my stuff. Time? Compared to appointments, reading, house work, blah blah blah, time spent with God is terribly little. Prayer? Oh my, how much more I ask for in blessings to my people,  compared to praising Him for my people and everything else He has done already! I’m just trying to put some things into perspective…you can apply it to your own lives however it fits.

The beautiful eternal life of living in the presence of my heavenly Father, my savior Jesus Christ and Holy Spirit, with no, natta, ziltch uncertainties; in perfect peace, forever praises – that is what we push away as hard as we can. What? Yes, we clutch the mortal life with all its difficulties as if that were the only life we have. Trust Him, friend, this life “ain’t all she wrote”! As suggested today, read the writings of John in holy scripture (John, I, II, and III John and Revelation) for a description of the love of God and the forever life He put in our hands.  He knew the devil would make this life as difficult as he could, and He prepared a place where the child of God will escape the uncertainties of this world and live, really LIVE, forever in His grace.

I believe Reta is there in that perfect peace, resting. Hope to see ya there Reta!

 

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)

Uprooting the Beauty With the Beast

03 Monday Jun 2019

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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)

Variety: Love it or Hate it

03 Sunday Feb 2019

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February afternoon

Sunday, Feb. 3, 2019

There are clearly some advantages to our Western Kentucky weather. Today is a prime example. While we hate the ever-changing never-know-what-you’ll-get weather patterns, it’s when we get a bright, warm, taste of spring like today that makes me grateful for the changes. I also relish occasional snow days when the whole world looks pure and clean and the only choices I have to make for the day is which flavor of coffee do I want to make. Variety really is the spice of life.

I also enjoy variety when it comes to writers’ thoughts, though not too wide a variety, as I’m a more conservative thinker. But no matter how you think, if you put effort into your own sharing,  you will enjoy the penned thoughts of others that are different. One such writing form that is different, but one that I can truly identify with, is Adventures of a Labor Nurse. Warning: it is not for the faint of heart. She puts it all out there, and if you haven’t looked into the face of the smelly, bloody miracle of birth before,  then you might tread lightly going there. I love it!

Foods! What can I say that wouldn’t take volumes of cyber space to even begin to do justice to the rich cuisine we enjoy every single day. I’m even talking about the beans and tater meals – I mean how many varieties of beans and potatoes and methods to prepare them are there? See what I mean? We have all benefitted from our cultural stew pots.

As nice as the spice is, there is Life beyond change, with more important things than blogging, coffee and food. I am completely ‘fall on my knees’ grateful that the Lord God is faithful to stay the same. No variation there! His way, His love, His opportunities, His grace, all of it, every part of Him is forever the same. That’s because it’s already perfect. Nothing is needed besides it and nothing is complete without it.

 Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.  James 1:17

“Barnes’ Notes on the Bible” enriches the phrase ‘no variation or shadow of turning’ penned by James. Because God is the Father of lights, James wanted to be sure we understand that God the Light, is different from the sun, our light, this way:  whereas the sun changes every day, causing all sorts of variations in climate, weather, shadows and so forth, with God there is none of that!  Barnes notes “the word which is here rendered “variableness” … occurs nowhere else in the New Testament. It means change, alteration…and would properly be applied to the changes …in astronomy.”  James knew his science from the master!

So, no matter how our lives change we can be absolutely sure that the One who created all this beautiful (and sometimes not so pretty) variety, is holding it all together; steady, unmovable, eternal in all His purpose and plan. Variety is the spice; God is the Life.

Eternally His, Trisha

Sundial

About 3:15 Sundial time

WHERE DOES THE NEW YEAR FIND YOU?

01 Tuesday Jan 2019

Posted by in Life, Reflections

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Ten fifteen P.M. on New Year’s Eve my date and I have finished a silly movie where Adam Sandler’s character babysits his niece and nephew and they sort of live out the bedtime stories they make up the night before. We have had our tray of cheese, crackers and olives, drank our Diet Coke, and I added on a brownie topped off by a cup of Christmas Wassail. Just the two of us. And our Yorkie. Oh so different from the New Year’s Eves of the past!

Looking back in time, mid 70’s I see us newly wed couples all getting together to bring in the new year. Well, usually we were home by midnight, but it was so much fun! Whether at the Murdock’s, the Doron’s, or others, we had a great group of friends for laughter, games, and food! I learned back then how to make the REAL chex mix, thanks to Debbie Rogers Doron. And Mississippi Mud cake, thanks to Becky Burkeen Nance. I think I usually took peanut butter balls, dipped in chocolate; yep, always love my chocolate! Especially Hazel Carson Morton’s brownies!

After that decade, we were raising children, juggling debts, and working. And working. And working. Sounds like a stuck record? It felt like one too. New Year wishes were a bit more solemn for some of us; we began to be distanced from our friends of younger years. However, I was blessed with the sweetest kids I could have ever imagined having, as well as a fun-loving mother, so new years eve parties were always about family. I recall hubby and I hosting one year when my brother’s wife was expecting their first child. He was serving with the Marines in Desert Storm, and Julie, his wife, was staying with Mama. Julie really enjoyed the food I served, so her abdominal discomfort was at first thought to be the result of my food. The birth of my niece on New Year’s Day proved that theory incorrect!

The 90’s started out no better in the work realm, but by mid decade I had earned my BSN, and began working as an RN so my husband began to feel a bit more relaxed in the bread-winner chair. Still, with my schedule, and our having been out of the socializing habit for so long, we just never again had a group of friends where we felt that ‘couples camaraderie’. That’s probably true for many families; but on New Year’s Eve, I missed the festivities. I grew up in a house where the midnight hour was celebrated, even if my parents were away from home and we were with a babysitter, so I guess the notion carried over. Anyway, other than a few years when the kids and I were part of a church’s food and games evening, we were at home. I recall dropping by Mama’s one year on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, and her house was decorated so beautifully complete with candles and wonderful refreshments. She was prepared for her ‘girls’ to come over for games and laughs. Those ladies hold important places in my heart. Barbara Ramsey, Jean Bird, Betty Hassell, Frances Hargrove, all such loved friends of my mother’s. I don’t know who all came that night to help her celebrate another year, but those four were almost always in the mix.

Turn of the century! New Year’s Eve 1999, my sister Kathy invited us to her and her husband’s party! We had little plastic ‘champagne glasses’ with sparkling grape juice, some assortment of noise makers and I happily watched a new century drape the calendar in the midst of good people and good fun! Nineteen years later, I am happier than I ever believed I could be, without a party, without noise makers, at home. Just the two of us. Happy NYE texts to our loved ones, from the safety and warmth of our own home, be it ever so humble. By the way, do you younger ones see how fast another decade passed in this paragraph? Well, that’s life. Faster than a speeding bullet!

Forty five years of marriage has seen many changes, good times and not so good times, like most folks. But for the life of me, I can’t think of one bad thing that overrides the joy of watching our kids grow up; working side by side to pay for our home and farm; celebrating our loved ones’ accomplishments and learning daily to praise God together for every day of every year. I guess all that work was good for me; my doctor tells me every year how healthy I am in spite of a few (well several) pounds over weight and arthritis. My ‘unparty’ hubby is right beside me about to fall asleep, and always has been. Our empty nest holds no grandchildren, but we have the sweetest dog in the world that was dropped right into my lap by a couple of high school friends. (Thanks again Janie Hughes Guizlo and Gwen Russell Hymer!) And both our kids are exceptionally attentive to our well-being; but that’s mutual of course!

Ten minutes before midnight now, and I didn’t know where this was going when I sat down to write, or even if I would post it. I think maybe that the movie we watched tonight has a faint connection – our lives are somewhat played out by the stories we tell ourselves. We may not know exactly what we are asking for when we make our plans, but for my life anyway, there seems to have been a master storyteller, (thank you God) watching and listening, knowing where my heart was and here I am. There really is no place like home! Happy New Year Friends!

 

 

KATHY’S ANGEL

16 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by in Faith, Life, The unexpected

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We made it to Macy’s!
So many lights, so many people!

There are times when you wonder about “angels unawares” (Hebrews 13:2, KJV), right? Well, I do. During our recent trip to NYC, I just may have encountered an angel. Of course, that is not an indisputable truth, but it is what I believe. Hebrews 11:1 says “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen”.  On that December night in Macy’s Department store, I was sure hoping my sister would not get hurt, and I did not see this help coming! Understand, I intend no disrespect of the scriptures; I know the hope and evidence of Hebrews consists of our faith in the eternal God and His works.  So who am I to put a limit on what He can do! Let me set the background for you.

Kathy, Cindy, Tonya and I decided to take the evening on our own, leaving the Millennium Broadway via Uber to see Macy’s on Herald Square in beautiful Manhattan, New York City! The window displays were calling our names. I had a one-item list for what to do in NYC: buy a Macy’s ornament. Already having put in a full day of tour activities, we were depending on our excitement and Tonya’s Uber app to keep us going. Our giddiness was slightly entertaining, possibly annoying, to the driver, which fueled our fortitude all the more. Have you ever gone into a building only to find later you have no idea where you entered? That’s how our entire evening went! As we discovered the grand front entrance from somewhere else, I was lost in the dazzling lights and decorations; entire trees with snow-dusted squirrels poised overhead, a bit larger than life, competed with all the other glitz and glitter for my attention. Suddenly I was alone in a crowd so thick I couldn’t reach for my phone without bumping someone. Cell phones are great – we could be lost and found several times throughout the evening, with no panic nor problem. After finding ourselves hilariously incapable of utilizing the elevators, we searched out an escalator for a couple more floors. With our prized ornaments in Tonya’s capable hands, on we ran! Delirious with fatigue and fun, we were ready for the Starbucks floor – wherever that was!

That is when we came upon an escalator we hadn’t seen before; made of wooden slats feeding out of a set of brass fingers, eight to ten inches long. Tonya and Cindy led the way and stood one floor below calling, “come on, let’s go, before they close! You can do it, just step on it like any other” and other such cheerleading shouts, because Kathy had just shut down with panic. Pure fear. She was. NOT. GOING. In her defense, there was the memory of our mother’s escalator fall and emergency treatment in 2007; and the one we saw before us now was confusing – do I step on the brass fingers, or step across them onto the moving wooden slats? With big sister optimism, I said “I’ll go first and tell you which way works.” Prying her fingers from the rail, I stepped in front of her. At that time, NO one else was in sight, so I stepped onto the brass part with my right foot and as the escalator took my left foot on without me, I turned to her to say, “Don’t step on the brass fingers!”. There I saw a young man standing beside her and she was yelling, “No, I can’t do this! I’m sorry….excuse me!” Now, think about it, we’re in NYC, near 11PM, and already had been given some very strange looks in the aforementioned elevators….(another story); so wouldn’t you have expected him to be thinking, “sure crazy lady, just get out of my way so I can go”, or even worse! In her words, “It was truly an awful feeling…as I stood on a perch that might as well have been the top of Lady Liberty. I expected to turn around and see very annoyed people, but all I saw or heard was his soft spoken encouraging words and when that didn’t work, the soft touch of his hand giving me that trusting nudge I needed.”  What I witnessed was my sister gliding down the escalator behind me with this young man’s arm around her back, side by side. At this point I should mention that she had never had a panic attack before, so that explains why we naturally expected her to follow.

Having descended one level, we saw we still had another level to go downward to reach our destination (Starbucks, remember?) At the sight of another scary slatted escalator, Kathy cried, “NO, not another, I can’t!” to which the young man calmly said, “It’s okay, we’ll do this together.” Relieved to see them land smoothly ahead of me, I pointed to him and said, “Young man, if you don’t already work with challenged children, you should!” He smiled humbly and said “this is my stop too”, and left us. All I could think of was, Kathy had an angel to guard or guide or protect, I don’t know – you decide. The scriptures teach us that angels are simply God’s messengers. What was our message? Be not afraid? Good people are everywhere? Get out of Macy’s before they close? (just kidding with that last one) I think. Or was he an innocent bystander through whom the Lord protected me from having to call my brother-in-law to say your wife is in the hospital. On and on the surmising could go; I know however, what I saw, and heard. And I believe. Thank you God for that sweet young man who so gently and kindly took control, calmed Kathy, and got us to the Starbucks counter in time to collect our energy enough to go outside and wait for the next Uber ride. (With duck tape on Cindy’s mouth. Just kidding – Oh the tales to tell!!!)

Look around friends, notice when people need a helping hand, a calm word, or encouragement to go on. Be God’s messenger of peace. Remember that the Prince of Peace is always there and reaches out, at any season. Merry Christmas. Trisha

 

 

 

PRECIOUS MEMORIES

09 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by in Life, Reflections

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I sat on the couch holding an old boot box full of smaller boxes and precious ornaments for our Christmas tree. Among those were three small white crocheted ornaments – two snowflakes and a stocking – made by my Aunt Sue who is no longer with us;  a flat round ceramic picture of Mama given to me by my sister Kathy the year our mother passed away;  and 13 precious Hallmark Keepsake ornaments given to me by Tiffany Shemwell, (now Clayton) one at a time every year that she was in school, kindergarten through 12th grade. Of course, Tiffany’s mom, Terese had to have started the tradition for her sweet daughter, but as Tiffany grew, so did my pleasure at seeing what her selection each year would be. Just like Tiffany, each one was unique, usually dainty, and adorable! The tradition began because I drove Tiffany to school and home again on a big yellow school bus. I only drove nine years after which, I was in nursing school, and then working as a nurse, but the little Christmas surprises continued to show up on my front porch until she graduated from high school. Five of the last six were little nurse animals – a mouse with a stethoscope, a koala with a hot water bottle, and so on.

Sitting there with our tree partially decorated, I found it difficult to begin opening the cherished Hallmark boxes. You see, tomorrow will be Tiffany’s funeral. Having fought a long battle with brain cancer never took the sweetness and sparkle out of that little girl! All who knew her were impressed with her bravery, as well as devastated that she and her family were being harassed with the cruelty of this disease, not once but twice. Now at 35 years old, she won’t have to fight that battle any longer. So, it just didn’t feel right to be opening and enjoying these memories while being so sad about her passing. However, through tears, I began to realize that Tiffany would be so sad if I didn’t enjoy them as I have every year and so I finally found my way to opening and hanging Tiffany’s ornaments. Gingerly I opened each box, imagined what she may have liked about each one, and gave them their usual prominent positions on the branches. I always save the last one for last, and reread the note that she included with it. This one is a little blond angel named Marguerite, holding a rabbit, and was 13th in the Mary’s Angel Series. It was also the 13th year of Tiffany’s ornaments, though the only angel from her, as well as the first time in those last 6 years that she didn’t select a nurse, but an angel. On the box is stamped the following:

“Bunny thinks it’s awfully sweet to snuggle up to Marguerite. They drift around the Christmas sky and watch the angels flying by.”   I’ll let you roll that around in your own heart, just as I am wondering how much intuition a 17 or 18-year-old would have.

Even better, is what Tiffany wrote to me on the gift tag she attached to it.  I share it now as just one more testament to how sweet and thoughtful she was. Precious memories!!

Merry Christmas Ms. Ward! This is the last one to complete your set, since I graduate this year. May they all bring you lots of joy every Christmas season. Love you lots, Tiffany

Thank God, Even When the ‘Maters are Mashed

20 Thursday Sep 2018

Posted by in Faith, Life, Reflections

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“Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever.” Psalm 107:1

Oh yes! He has given us all we need. Above all, peace (John 14:27); even on a tearful morning when the carnal mind is trying to “mash my ‘maters” with thoughts of earthly things that the world says are important, to cloud over the amazing brilliance of all that God has given. People don’t mean to sit on your tomatoes. They’re just grabbing a seat, living life the same way you want to. Sure, there are things we want in life – in fact, God tells us to pour out our longings to Him – but the level of happiness they bring, rides on an elevator of circumstances. However, the peace, joy and mercy from God aren’t dependent on those things. Physical blessings come and go, but the spiritual blessings are for keeps, unless, of course, we walk into darkness and lose them. Even then they can be restored. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take Your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me by your generous Spirit.” Psalm 51:10-12

Life is fragile; it comes and goes. But the joy that it brings, and leaves with us, stays. There is a joy in knowing the Giver of that life continues to care, more than we know how to. He sees when we are struggling with gaps in our faith, with holes in our blankets, with pain and quicksands in life.

Sept. 20, 2018. So much life has happened this week. My niece is holding her newborn son today. A dear friend buried her 57-year-old husband yesterday, a sudden loss for the world of lives he touched. Bill however, entered an eternity of peace and joy on Sunday. My baby girl turned 39 today; I don’t feel old, just left behind, sort of. How much of what I meant to do and didn’t is important? We started our farm harvest this week – a reminder of how short seasons really are – and you better start them out right! Lastly, I’ll be attending the wedding of a good friend’s daughter on Saturday. All this in a week! Birth, birthday celebration, wedding, death, and gratitude for a good harvest.

As I sit here by the pond, pondering all this, my husband is running the combine some 50 acres or so north as is a neighbor to my south. Life, work, pleasures and sorrows all go on and on. Sometimes you get the pink one, sometimes the blue.Some days you win, some days you lose. Thank God for each new day woven in peace, for the spiritual joy in the heart He relieves.

Take a journal and start writing; make a list of your blessings. If you compare a list of “what I have” with a list of “what I have not”, you will find the “haves” far exceed the longings. For at the top of the “have” list is God’s son, and you can’t top that!

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Pondering