Category Archives: Reflections

TODD

20 Wednesday May 2015

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One name, spoken in our small community over the past year and a half needed no last name, no explanation. Speaking the name ‘Todd’, was understood that the reference was to “our” Todd Walker. A family man in every respect; son, husband and daddy, yes, to his precious family. And so much  more. In the church, his family attitude exemplified everything God intended the church to be. Which is why I say ‘our Todd’. Everyone who knew him thinks of him as a brother. A teacher, minister, song leader, encourager, Todd’s love for people naturally drew them, and drew us closer as a family; and more importantly (to Todd I know), he drew us closer to Jesus.

One question, forever in the mind of mankind, though we know full well there is no satisfying answer, is ‘why’. Why was it OK for Todd to go so soon? No, Todd would not have us question. But as a heart-broken sister, my Lord understands that I have questions. And it’s ok. Perhaps that gives us the chance to say aloud the things we admire, the things we think are important, honoring our loved ones, when they’ve passed from this life.

One assurance: that Todd is free of all chains that held him from the things he might have done. Free to be in perfect peace. Free of heartache, pain, and suffering. Free to fully praise his Father and Saviour unendingly.

One ugly disease, this ALS. It stole his strength, but did not win his spirit. He used it to strengthen his and the spirit of those who knew him. It ravaged his body and our hearts. But it did not touch his faith which seemed to grow stronger each time he spoke in our presence, serving to encourage the faith of others. It grieves us with its affect, but reminds us of the beauty of the time when disease will not exist.

One Lord, who now holds Todd in perfection. I am not convinced if the saints sleep in perfect peace for now, resting for the time of great celebration in the final resurrection; or if they are immediately transported into an awareness of Paradise. Either way, I imagine Todd will be leading the chorus in his magnificent way at the perfect timing according to our Father in Heaven and his Son who sits at the right hand and welcomes the faithful, and one of those is Todd Walker.

One day, we will all be joined together and questions will be answered, beyond our grandest dreams. This morning as I write, the birds are singing, like Todd; and the sky is cloudy, like our eyes. But on that morning, our eyes will be fully opened, seeing clearly all that is now a mystery. And I look forward to that. In the words of another brother in Christ, Lord come quickly. We miss you Todd.

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

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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.

My first coffee break, with a teacup

08 Wednesday Jan 2014

Posted by in Children, inspiration, Reflections

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Although I’d wanted to write since childhood, my best inspirations came after having children of my own. So often in the past 36 years, I have heard my inner voice narrating, “I am a writer”, and so I have stored up several little incidents that I simply want to share. And that’s the neat thing about writing, for me, anyway; that I can express a thought or emotion, or report a happening, and enjoy it for just that – and if someone else enjoys reading it, then that’s icing on my coffeecake.

It began back in about 1980 in our little 12×65 mobile home, as I made my way from the morning pick-up and straighten-up and into the kitchen where our little brown-eyed 3-year-old was leaning over the kitchen table, one foot in a chair, the other leg folded behind and a finger just coming out of the butter dish. “Look Mama”, he said excitedly, “I found a new real good sompin‘ to eat, butter on crackers!” The look on his face said, “please don’t scold before you hear why I’m nearly on the table, and there are crumbs everywhere”, and there was just a hint of guilt in that sweet smile. He seemed to think he had single-handedly invented the world’s best snack. I, however, was seeing a whole different picture. There amid the crumbs and smears of butter on a placemat, was a buttered knife, a used piece of bubble gum, a cocklebur and a teacup of water holding the two Rose of Sharon blooms he had brought in to me earlier. My heart melted at the sight of this gorgeous chunk of a child, and with gratitude for such a moment. I don’t recall anything else about that day except that I grabbed a scrap of paper, which I still have in a basket, and wrote down the memory.

I wish, of course, that I’d stopped to write down many more memories, but I was taught that idle hands are the devil’s workshop, and I sure didn’t want to let the devil set up shop in our home! So, busy I was, and too few coffee breaks I took in those days. As I look back at that kitchen table, I know how blessed I was. Two beautiful children, a husband who worked hard to be sure I could stay home and raise them, and a simple country life allowed me to soar a bit with the eagles, on wings above the storms, gathering strength to run, or walk, as life’s course would dictate, without falling beneath the load. Isaiah 40:31 became my favorite verse long ago, and I cherish it more and more as I reflect back, and look forward.  With too few dollars to keep film in the camera, I grabbed pen and paper and began storing little notes like a squirrel hiding nuts. Now, being older has two sides: with a little more time to grab a cup of coffee and reminisce, perhaps, but will I be able to recall where I’ve stashed all those tidbits of time? I hope that I can discipline myself to write regularly, but don’t bet all your beans on that one!