Category Archives: MONDAY MUSINGS

On the Wings of a Butterfly

31 Tuesday Aug 2021

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Recalling the sadness with which my dad would report the passing of another old classmate, I began to identify somewhat, with those feelings. I had just read the obituary of yet another friend of my mother’s which saddened me, but more than that, it began to unfold a revelation about aging I have never felt before. (It isn’t about my being another year older or being nearer the end. Instead, it’s feeling the passing of life as I’ve known it. It’s the people who’ve left us behind, evolving morality, chivalry and such.) The lady who had died was an age right between my parents and me, so she considered Mama a friend, and me as well. We weren’t close, but I had respect for her and remembered fondly how she was a presence in our lives when I was a young child.

A couple days ago I came upon a colorful butterfly whose life had ended, and it suddenly returned to mind today. Each time I walked by it as it lay on the hot concrete, a few more particles of its lovely wings were etching away, as is the way of Mother Nature; by another day it was gone.

I wondered, are our lives just delicate wings, slowly crumbling off around the edges, dissolving like a mound of January snow? Well, actually yes, according to God’s word, our earthly lives are like the petals of a flower, dust in the wind. “All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of the grass. The grass withers, and its flower falls away. But the word of the Lord endures forever.” (I Peter 1:24) But God put something inside us that the dust and the butterflies do not have; a soul. I know the soul lives forever because God said He created us in His image, which is eternal. “Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness;’ (Genesis 1:26) I understand this; however, it’s the season we’re spending here with one another that I am pondering.

When dad mourned passing classmates, it was literally losing pieces of himself. I recall losing high school classmates not long after graduation and unlike the elderly, it was shocking, unusual and set apart from our own lives. However, as we grow older together, we are watching each other’s lives span out, grow, and come back together again. We find more things in common, along with our other acquaintances, woven throughout our own tapestry of life. So watching all these people from different periods of our lives begin to leave, is similar to watching the threads slowly unravel and slide out of the cloth, little by little, one friend, one relative, at a time. This we know is natural, neither shocking nor unusual, but as I’m just realizing, it is actually changing the landscape of my life, my world; a world created by the relationships we’ve made, the real stuff of our lives. It reminds me of enjoying a bowl of ice cream. You have your favorite flavor in your favorite bowl, the spoon that fits just right in your hand, and you knew the delicious treat wasn’t to keep, so as you enjoy it, bite by bite, you see it disappearing. Either you eat it or it melts; either way, it goes.

I realize these thoughts have the potential of being depressing, but it is not my intention to bring you down. Rather, you should know your life, whether a casual acquaintance, a relative, my best bud, or somewhere between, is being enjoyed like a bowl of Columbian coffee ice cream; worn in my life like the finest woven tapestry; and decorates my life like the blue speckles on the butterfly sipping at my zinnias. We are not put here to live unto ourselves. As we help and encourage each other, we are actually folding in the ingredients, weaving threads of gold and silver, into and throughout each other’s lives. Make it good, dear ones! When the tapestry is completely undone, will I be just another wing on the sidewalk? I like to think I may be a good memory to some, like that particular butterfly was to me, but more importantly, whatever makes me fly will live forever with my God.

Thankfully, I haven’t had to say goodbye to many of my own peers, but as I’m practically in the lap of being the older generation, I have just begun to understand. I found myself frantically searching my mind for someone who might be able to answer questions related to the life of the recently deceased. Finally I called a cousin who could fill in some of the blanks but the truth remains, there are fewer people left than I care to realize who can still answer questions about past memories. The memories are precious because of the souls connected to them. So hug them up tight; wrap them in fine quilts and serve them using the good dishes. Life just may be short, so enjoy the ice cream.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day.” (II Corinthians 4:16)

SHARING; Then and Now

02 Monday Aug 2021

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Feeling quite pleased with the outcome of a project, I shared my efforts on Facebook. In anticipation of the much needed improvement, I had taken ‘before’ pictures to emphasize just how much our porches needed to be cleaned and sealed. As I was taking the ‘after’ pictures, the question came to mind as to why I felt the need to share this on social media. It wasn’t a benchmark thing, nothing rare or unusual; just a small accomplishment that gave me satisfaction. It’s really funny when you stop to think about it. I made it just fine for over sixty years without this strange activity of publicizing sunsets, sunflowers and sun-dried sheets. Millions of us do it, and frankly, I enjoy the giving and receiving of little snippets of our lives. So don’t misunderstand me; I’m not ‘dissing’ it as the kids used to say. But I did imagine some interesting scenarios in wondering what if there’d been social media and sharing of everyday life a generation and farther, ago. Can you imagine?

When my mother’s elderly aunt threatened her cow with a wheat straw, it made family news and the account of it was handed down through three generations so far, bringing much laughter. Had that been a Facebook video, it may have gotten a few chuckles, and then become buried beneath a deluge of other posts. However, as it had only word of mouth, being heard over and over by people who loved one another, the tale has lived on. 

Can you imagine seeing a post of a little burr-headed boy, seven or eight years old, driving a two-ton truck as he stretched to see between the dashboard and the steering wheel? Well there is no photo to post because my husband was alone, trying to hold it between the ditches of a hilly gravel road and keep up with his dad driving something ahead of him. Now, a share like that one might have gained the attention of the law! And judging by the reaction his aunt had when she saw the activity, I’m sure she would’ve liked a route for ranting! But other than the remembrance for the boy, and his aunt,  it went unnoticed. Talk about kids growing up too soon! It was the norm back then.

How about those hundreds of quarts or so of green beans your grandma canned? Can you imagine her stopping to take a picture to post? I recall my mother indicating if we stopped to so much as go to the bathroom, we might hinder a jar from sealing. 

As my sister pointed out recently, her dozen ears of corn made good eating and conversation, but she remembered the 1,000 (or so it seemed) ears of corn on a sheet under a tree waiting to be ‘worked up’ by our mother and her sister.  What they shared was time, togetherness and sticky aprons as they commented on whose knife was sharper. It was hard enough to get willing participants, so I doubt they thought non-players would be interested. Anyway, they were just doing what every other family was doing. The best sharing then was in a large glass bowl about four months later with country ham and biscuits.

Imagine ole’ Bess about to give birth in the barn. The farmer cries out, “hold on, don’t calve just yet, I forgot my phone! The world’s just gotta see this!” 

I think the world was so small then for folks, they just couldn’t imagine anything they saw or did as being unusual. They felt like maybe everyone else had or did the same, pretty much. Hydrangeas growing by the house had been transplanted all over the county so everyone had one; they all had seen a thousand too many baby chicks; and nobody wanted their picture made on hog killing day! They got together on Sunday afternoon, shared their stories, and made memories enough for years. But as the world has expanded, allowing us to be a part of a much larger community, we know there are people special to us who will never see us in our “natural habitat” nor will we see them in person encountering special moments. I’m thinking of the vacation posts by others, places I’ll never see, so experiencing it through your eyes is the next best thing! Sharing is good that way. Too, we have more time on our hands with modern conveniences and life IS more varied and exciting, maybe… and yet I can’t begin to imagine what a star studded night over Kentucky looked like without the outdoor lights interfering. I can’t imagine how a family of ten or so sounded when they all sat down to the supper table at once, because that’s the only way they did it. As I watch a goldfinch picking at a matching Black-eyed Susan, I wonder what  posts my mother would have made as she loved her flowers and birds! I can’t imagine what  her face looked like when she first held us kids in her arms. They just didn’t take pictures like that then, much less share them with strangers. But I’d love to see a real-life post – just a few anyway – from those times. 

“The more things change, the more they stay the same” we have heard. I wonder if my great aunt Treva would’ve posted her amazing Four O’clocks on social media. She shared the seed with me about 35 years ago and I want to share the beauty and fragrance each year as they envelope our porch! No, somehow I doubt she would; she had cows to milk, strawberries to work, grandchildren to feed and hug and a hundred other chores of farm life. So, no, she wouldn’t take the time. I’m so thankful she took the time to share her flower seed with me so a part of her lives on in my life.

  • 4 O’Clocks from Treva Darnell

The little brown rabbit munching clover outside my window tempts me to grab a pic and share it, because a picture is worth a thousand words, they say. But again, why do I even think of that? It seems social media has invaded even our paths of thought. I have no point to make. I just think it’s interesting; both the rabbit and the notion of sharing such a common thing. Now, some have said posting of our personal lives is just bragging. I say phooey to those nay-sayers!

We’ve been taught (or at least should have been) to share since we were babies. Even as the tune “It’s a small small world” hums through my head, I feel the world has actually grown larger and larger until it has required a new way to share. There aren’t enough minutes in a day nor days in a week to share all our happenings with everyone we know. So here we are, sharing on social media outlets. Silly as it may seem at times, it’s fun, if everyone remembers the golden rule. Obviously we share what is important to us, so please don’t be offended when I share my love for our Creator God, the power of Jesus Christ and Holy Spirit. My intentions are to encourage and I hope they are received as such. I loved a post recently by Terra Weber sharing how her girlfriends pitched in and helped her in a pinch. I call that share-worthy; my rabbit, not so much (smile). If not for the encouragement from Cindy Lassiter’s garden posts, I might have given up and quit doing a thing that makes me feel so alive! At seeing Judith Darnell’s post of her rhododendrons, I thought, You go girl!

All the plants, birds and time with children I enjoy sharing, demonstrate the wonders of life for me.  I have adopted the hashtag #encouragedbylife as my signature. (Do not look for me on Twitter; one outlet is all I can keep up with.) I hope others are encouraged to get out and experience more of nature after seeing posts from us nature lovers. If a little share here and there points someone to look for God in His creation, I am happy. If a shared post encourages a youngster to keep working hard and know he or she is loved, also great. What I hope we don’t forget is to keep sharing our actual, not virtual, lives. Giving of our time and resources to one another is the kind of sharing we never forget. A tree from Dana Bazzell, a hydrangea from Patsy Russell, Irises from my aunt Sue, and many other examples are real life shares. Retelling stories from the past keeps their sharing alive and reminds us there is really nothing new under the heavens. It’s just new to us, so share it if you like.  #encouragedbylife

  • Eastern Bluebird box in our backyard

Don’t Go With The Flow

26 Monday Oct 2020

Posted by in Encouragement, MONDAY MUSINGS, Uncategorized

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With social distancing in place, our seats in worship are anywhere we find a vacant spot. Today it was the balcony. At the end of service, we exited with the crowd, moving along fluidly; again, minimizing contact due to Covid 19. My mind was on the people I saw and heard. Some I hadn’t spoken to in months – again due to the swiftness of exit, the masks and different seating – and some I’d love to get a hug from; and then the snippets of conversations and wondering about the rest of their stories.

A word of caution: reading the following may cause one to dread aging. Don’t judge until you’re there:)

As we entered the vestibule at the bottom of the stairs, we fell into the flow of those coming from the auditorium toward the exit or other classrooms. As my husband paused at the trash can to leave our communion packaging, he whispered “Is that it?” Assuming he meant was that all he needed to discard, I nodded affirmative and we were swept on through the commons area and out the door. Concern for a troubled stranger in our midst gave us added distraction from the norm. Not a bad thing; in fact, I realize we enter and exit worship far too often on auto-pilot and need a little extra stimulus to ponder our plot in life. But I digress.

As he started our car, my husband again questioned me, “So we aren’t having class again?” Class. Oh. Class! Suddenly I realized I’d gone with the flow of folks and completely forgotten about Sunday School! Had I been entertaining purposeful thinking, I’d have realized he was asking at the trash can if we were leaving. Duh. Feeling kinda foolish I opted for continuing on our way home instead of walking back inside, against the flow. Now, this isn’t about a virus, nor precautions, nor even about Sunday school attendance. It’s about the difference purposeful thinking makes in whether we go with the flow, take another route, or step aside and hold our place until we’re good to go. (Maybe it’s somewhat about absent mindedness too, which I’ve been accused of before.)

How might we have altered our outcome? Two ways; one, take another route. There’s a side hall to step into from the balcony stairs and through it, we would have many doors of opportunity to enter the auditorium for class without interrupting the smooth flow of traffic. The other option would be to wait; taking time to watch from a distance as our brothers and sisters moved in tandem toward the door. We could then make our way to our auditorium class minus the mass exit.

In life as well, it feels natural to go with the flow. But what is popular may not be best. The path of least resistance is easier, but it doesn’t build strength. The crowd’s concerns are not likely matched to your cares, nor can you see the signs ahead if lost in the crowd. Or, my leg of the journey may need further planning, mapping; perhaps I need to reenter the destination in my GPS. Purposeful thinking – looking ahead at desired outcomes – may cause us to divert our direction, or press the pause button.

Diversion may find us taking a side road less traveled where we can experience new opportunity to bless and be blessed. By the way, diversion can also force the enemy from the principle point of operation, where he expects us to be following mindlessly. It brings to mind the words from Matthew 7: 13-14, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” (NIV) Not a very popular thought, but those words are from the mouth of Jesus. I need to put that in my Garmin.

Pressing the pause button as well, just might be a gap of opportunity in which we see others instead of self; where we can refuel; time to regroup. This is a good time to recall God’s word. “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 6:10 NKJV)

So, we missed Sunday class, but I learned a lesson. I’ll listen with purposeful thinking when my husband asks a question. (OK, I will try.) And if I don’t want to swim back upstream, I better divert my direction ahead of time, or wait patiently when purposeful thought says, “You do not want to go with the crowd”.

“You comprehend my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways.” Psalm 139:3 NKJV

The Good, The Bad, and The Horse-flies

07 Monday Sep 2020

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The vicious swarming back-biters returned just as we knew they would.  As I was writing a prior post about aggravating corn-flies, I predicted there would be worse, and the worse wasn’t long in arriving. If like some folks, you are not bothered by the presence of the Tabanidae family, I am more than willing to send a few horse-flies your way. I read that the larvae grow in semiaquatic habitats, and adults feed on nectar and plant exudates, so if more of you would please dig ponds, install pools and plant a nice variety of nectar dripping blossoms, we who have been inundated by these overgrown blood suckers would like to see the population spread more evenly. Thank you in advance:) Some presume dinosaurs may have been early hosts for the horse-flies, which in my book, accounts for their gigantic size.

With no known purpose other than to produce more horse-flies and food for wasps and birds, their presence is most unwelcome. From hammering the sunroom windows like hail, to darkening the 3 by 5 screen in the garage window, they remind me of the Hitchcock movie, The Birds. On the day I used a porch ceiling fan, we had to battle our way in and out of the house, flinging arms and waving hands, until we discovered they actually liked the fan. Fan off, horror film over. Some types of horse-fly aim low and nip at the ankles; others attack from above, zapping whelps on my back more than once. But like all evils, there will be an end. The life of an adult horse-fly is under two months, and usually only noticed for a couple weeks. At the opening of September, there are still plenty of these winged missiles, but the garage floor and window sill are covered in corpses to sweep away already. Soon peace will fall upon the farm in timely company with anticipation of cooler drier air.

Horse-flies seem to embody the difficult parts of summer like they have to run it by us one more time to ensure we know how to appreciate Autumn. They gather up the heat and humidity, and exit in a storm of activity as if our relief was their idea. I suppose all pain seeks gain; adversity cries for appeasement.  Sadly, on a spiritual plain, the evils thrown upon the Lord Jesus Christ were necessary for His pain and our gain. If no adversities, it would be difficult to appreciate peace. The body of Jesus personified the beauty and grace of a loving God Who wants to relieve us of the evils that ugly up our world; to apply balm to the bites and save us from a swarm of sin. You probably know this already; but perhaps if you do not, may I recommend the book of Romans, where in chapters 5 and 6 the inspired writer tells us that tribulations produce hope; hope because Christ reconciled our lives to God by His death. The stark contrast between the problem and the perfect answer flows throughout those verses. Without the bad, we don’t recognize the good. May the grace of God be our desire as we seek separation from the pestilence of this world’s ills.

But where sin abounded, grace abounded much more,
so that as sin reigned in death, even so grace might reign through righteousness to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.  (Romans 5: 20b-21)

WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO PDQ?

10 Monday Aug 2020

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person pouring milk in highball glass

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

As we travel through life, with so many branches in our journey, there comes along every so often a twig of something from the past. Something we hadn’t thought of in years and we wonder, why had I forgotten that, as much as I liked it, or as important as it was? 

PDQ is a sore spot between my husband and me because I had it and he didn’t. Well, he is kidding, mostly, but I was more privileged he says, in some ways; maybe because we lived in town when I was in those formative years, being exposed to a number of things he wasn’t.  When I say, ‘formative’ I’m not referring to the Wonder Bread use of the word, but rather to those elementary school years being a time of forming tastes and attitudes as well as some really great  memories. Throughout the tapestry of my life, I have changed many of the threads but the basic shape and design are still the same. Because of the people and landscape of those years, we learn to be the adults of our future. My point is not to debate nature versus nurture, nor even the pros and cons of more versus less. I would tend to be on the “less is more” side, but I digress. Back to PDQ, you probably know it was a granular form of deliciousness; light-as-air pellets of chocolate, strawberry or eggnog flavor to add to milk. One day years ago, I asked my kids and husband if they remembered it, and they had no idea what it was.  Recently I googled its whereabouts and found it was not manufactured past the mid-90’s. I haven’t seen it since the 70’s. It’s just one of those things, among many, my mother bought for us when we were living at 1709 Miller Avenue in Murray, Kentucky, 1961-1965.

Murray, like all towns, has changed with growth and has been cloaked with advances in technology and modern moralities. But underneath, it’s basically the same caring community, proud of its heritage and revolving around family and faith. From the beautiful autumn leaves along Ninth Street where I walked from Poplar to the Austin Building as a third grader, to the current day walking park of the MSU Arboretum, the beauty of our town is evident. I was seven when my parents moved us from the Lynn Grove community into town, where we lived by the water tower. I liked having that point of reference and when I was nine or ten, I almost resented it when Edwin Cain built next door, between us and the tower. No longer could I say, “we live next to the water tower”.  I loved our neighborhood and formed life-long friendships there. We didn’t all stay in touch, but there was the recognition of happy times when I ran into any of them. Some have passed away, most still live around here, and my first BFF who lived across the street now lives across the country. Sandy Perfilio Jordan, you know Arizona with all its natural beauty just can’t measure up to the beauty of MKY (wink). Well, at least our trees; which brings me to another “what ever happened” thought. 

One of my favorite autumn experiences has always been the raking and burning of autumn leaves. I know, smoke, smoke, smoke, right? The rustling sound of walking through shin high golden leaves; the aroma of clean burning leaves similar to wood fires; and the charred ditches along the roads – the whole bit – I loved it all. We had two huge pecan trees and several maples where we raised our children on Brandon Road. One of my happiest memories is when it was time to rake leaves, sweeping them away from the house toward the road, often piling the masses onto an old sheet to drag them to the shallow ditch. Along the way, my kids would run and jump into one of the crunchy mountains, followed by the dog and shrieks of laughter and “stop scattering my leaves”! After sundown, we lit those leaves up and sat back satisfied with a clean yard and good exercise. By that time of day, it was often chilly, so the heat of fire felt good too. It wasn’t too different from sitting around a fireplace on a winter evening sizing up the day’s work. Then, looking up into the trees at the remainder of red, gold and brown, I decided God probably meant those leaves to best serve as a ground mulch and insulator for perennials. 

Now, I am not naive enough to think any of that leaf raking is a popular opinion; but it’s mine. My opinion, and I have a right to it;  like so many differing opinions and attitudes developed from somewhere deep in our history, we have a right to them as long as we aren’t hurting someone else in the use of them. I think maybe my right to voice my passions, stops when I allow it to take priority over common courtesy. What ever happened to that? It would be difficult to convince me there are any issues which legitimately require hateful tactics, or hurtful words in order to be heard, or made better. From the man who cuts me off to get somewhere first, to the meanness of property destruction, there is less courtesy and consideration than there used to be, but if we do not allow those exceptions to take our focus off the right thing, we will see all the kindness and sunny dispositions for which this community has been rightfully known.

God has always known what is best for us. He did not say “Be ye kind as long as you’re ahead” did He? He did say, “add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to knowledge self-control, to self-control perseverance, to perseverance godliness, to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness love.” (II Peter 1: 5-7 NKJV)  Guilty as the next person in speaking my mind, I really have to watch myself or I become “that person”. But with the faith and knowledge, I should persevere in self-control until kindness is my automatic reaction. I’m truly sorry to all who’ve been the victim of any unkindness from me. Having said that, I am moving on.

I would sure love for them to bring back the ten cent Mr. Malty! That was my favorite Dairy Queen treat; back when we as children could walk the five and a half blocks with a dime in our pockets and no fear. What ever happened to that?!

Just Forgetful, Not Lost

14 Monday Oct 2019

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Happy sumauter (summer/autumn/winter all in one week) to you! I began this post as a follow-up to our last musings about lost stuff, deciding what should be kept and what is clutter that invades our peace. My searches for missing treasures can be the effect of too much stuff, OR, more often the result of my forgetfulness. This chronic condition gave rise to the following “lost and foun- er…forgotten” experience.

The good news is that my earring is not lost. If you met me on a recent Tuesday in Wal-Mart, or Kroger and noticed I was wearing a hole in my head on one side, and a pretty pearl (credit to my niece-in-law) on the other side, you may be right in assuming I am easily distracted; but if you thought, “oh, she lost an earring”, you’d be wrong. To make matters worse, I didn’t swoop through unnoticed; I talked to people! I thought the young produce boy looked at me with passing amusement just because I couldn’t find the plastic bags on the other side of him, so I said he must’ve been drinking muddy water. Oh well. He no doubt thought I was lost beyond finding.

My day started out on the dorky side anyway. Good neighbors who never stop by, stopped by… and caught me still in my pajamas, complete with tennis shoes because I like to work in the house in comfort (it’s an ankle thing), I had somewhere to be at 10:30,  and I saw no reason to get dressed twice. Later, as I put one earring in, I heard my dog bark and remembered I’d left him on the couch, so off I hurried to set him off the couch; enter husband who, due to back pain, asked me to run his belt through the back loops of his pants. At that time, the washer stopped and I lugged the basket of sheets out to the clothesline. Coming inside, I realized it was time for that 10:30 thing, so I left. Driving down the highway, I asked myself, did I ever finish getting ready? No, only one earring, and no time to go back. I removed it and put it in my change purse. OH, but that’s not the end.

Back home, with three jobs to be doing at once, I postponed the shopping until my very unobservant husband was ready to go with me. I put in that other earring I had first left at home, and knowing the first one was in my purse, we left the house. But I drove. The rest is history. Nobody told me, (and I have very short hair) that I was wearing only one earring; husband, store employees and friends, some with whom I spoke at length, all acted like I looked normal. Girls, this is not the same as your wearing mismatched shoes – at least you didn’t go with one bare foot. Imagine my embarrassment when I stood before the mirror at 9:30 PM to remove my earrings and makeup.

Suddenly I recalled how chipper I’d been, smiling and speaking, happy to be alive and interacting like a woman who knows what she’s doing…confident and fearless. I can just imagine people were thinking, “wow, poor thing, she should’ve taken that other earring out, bless her heart”.  The bad news is that I am just forgetful; and easily distracted. I don’t even know if I was really wearing makeup. ??

Do we look through a dark glass? Do we turn from the mirror and forget who and what we are? Spiritually speaking, it is quite possible to do so. According to scripture, we can look into God’s word with understanding, and then turn around and do right the opposite. That life stuff again, distractions, maybe too little room in our faith to let the word grow; even a strong faith can get tangled in strands of ‘something shiny’, and we forget whose we are. “Know that the Lord, He is God; It is He Who has made us and not we ourselves; we are His people and the sheep of His pasture.” (Psalm 100:3 NKJV)

“For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man observing his natural face in a mirror; for he observes himself, goes away, and immediately forgets what kind of man he was.  But he who looks into the perfect law of liberty and continues in it, and is not a forgetful hearer but a doer of the work, this one will be blessed in what he does.” (James 1:23-25).

Is It Worth Keeping?

16 Monday Sep 2019

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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)

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

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 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:)