Category Archives: The unexpected

THE SANDBOX – Rant and Recover: The Road is Coming Through

04 Monday Nov 2019

Posted by in Encouragement, The unexpected

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little boy playing in the sand

Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

Most likely you have observed kids in a sandbox, or on a playground, building their “spot” and having to move over for a sandbox bully. I recall the neat sandbox my daddy built for us surrounding a maple tree in our back yard. I was a bit too old to claim my own turf there, but enjoyed watching my little sister and brother playing with neighborhood kids. Unfortunately, the kittens that managed to escape the neighborhood dogs, car engines and tires, would also move in on the sand to – um,  sort of claim their territory…yes, I know, yuck. But the little kids didn’t mind. In fact, as a rule kids will concede after a sidewise look or mild resistance (just to be sure) when a more dominate personality moves in and wants that spot for himself. In the sandboxes of life, the bully has more weight, more money, or just more presence. At the least, it is inconvenient; at the most, it is life-changing.

Kids are truthful, humble and often helpless, powerless.  It’s when we feel the powers moving our world that the kid in us wants to come out. We want to stomp and cry; but the adult in us knows better. We know that the playing field isn’t always level.

Growing up, the playground expands, with more at stake, like perhaps class standing, career positions or potential spouses. Still dealing with competition, someone trying to go”one-up”, it’s common to still be finding ourselves or our positions in life. In those younger years the sand boxes are more plentiful and there are more fish in the sea. After a time, you think it’s all worked out; your bullies have found other callings, and peers have come to understand or accept each other’s turn and place in line. Comradery forms and you find enjoyment rooting for each other. Then. Then, someone drops in from another planet, plowing a new furrow, blasting your turf, only now the sand castles are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, and roots are growing with families involved instead of just you. It is more. Much more than someone moving your furniture in the night, it’s more like they’ve moved your house – literally – right out from under you.  These bullies invading your sandbox aren’t just flexing muscle. They are pushing, kicking mounds, telling you to go with it or get thrown into the gulley, you and  your bicycle. They have machismo and money.  These playing fields are the real thing, making the childhood days seem of little importance. In reality though, if you’re the child whose tear streaked face endured the bully’s slap, and the terror of losing your sand castle, then you know the significance at any stage of life. It is a fact of life indeed, that all playing fields are not level.

As adults, we eventually come face to face with those uneven levels. Our adult sized sandbox where we’re just minding our business and doing life, paying taxes, raising responsible citizens, living up to the motto of leaving a place better than we found it – these places we have invested blood, sweat and tears into –  are Just. A. Speck. A dot on a map in the universe, it is property of a republic; a republic in which we’ve been proud to be a part. That playground we thought belonged to our kindergarten class until we grew up to be second graders and learned differently, is only ours for a moment of eternity. A speck; a moment in the whole scope of world events.

You wake up one day and realize there are bullies in the republic too, who seem not to have regard for “by the people, for the people”.  Of course, that depends on which people you are. You begin to realize once again how small you and your sand castles are; helpless once again, you must find a new sandbox. Until two or three, again, want to, oh let’s say, build a road through your playing field. That’s when it is SO important to know – and HERE is our consolation – that they all eventually get their ‘come uppings’. Not for the sake of revenge at all, but that eventually the playing field IS even. There is one sovereign boss to whom we will all answer; and what He has in store for those who are His, well, in the whole scope of world events, our plights just shrink; not less important to us, but of less priority. Then we must ask ourselves: one, does this affect my relationship with the Father, the Creator of my sandbox and all others? Only if I allow it to change me. Then, secondly, does this change who I am (without my permission) or Who God is? Most assuredly not!

Friends, neighbors, our hearts are with you. Many of us have lived under the shadow of threat from year to year, not knowing exactly how to plan and proceed. Dodging the bullet once doesn’t mean it’s our playground for keeps. As long as there’s life, there’s change. And eventually my cheese will be moved; so hopefully I will not trust in the cheese, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name, and I shall not be moved. My sandbox and my friends and foes will all move in and out; I may relocate, but I – who I am, a child of the King, will not change. For HIS eternal kingdom, is not on an earthly ground, but a spiritual one. All the powers of earth and beyond cannot uproot the Kingdom, the Spirit nor the love of God.

When we get to go in for supper with our big brother, Jesus, we won’t even remember the sandbox. The feast and the mansion where it’s served will be awesome beyond words, and I have the Boss’ word on it. God sees His kids in the sandbox, dries their tears and lovingly assures them they will be fine; that they will recover and perhaps even greater things are in store for them. Greater and better things may indeed await where you next fill your sand pail.

The writer of Hebrews was inspired to tell us “For this One has been counted worthy of more glory than Moses, inasmuch as He who built the house has more honor than the house. For every house is built by someone, but He who built all things is God. …but Christ as a Son over His own house, whose house we are if we hold fast the confidence and the rejoicing of the hope firm to the end.” (Hebrews 3: 3-4, 6 NKJV) I think he meant there’s only one sandbox we need to be concerned about building in, because it belongs to Jesus Christ, and as the owner, He lets us stay until it’s time to go home.

 

Thoughts on Visits, Rest and Mamas

28 Monday Jan 2019

Posted by in Prayer Life, Reflections, The unexpected

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A Visit

I visited Mama this afternoon. Oh, it was so wonderful to see her looking so well; productive, happy, and in good health. We talked a bit and I helped her find the missing part of a small crib she had about finished putting together. She was holding a little baby and it was for that baby that she was assembling the crib. Someone who looked familiar walked through the house where she had lived on Miller Ave, called my name and left, and she was trying to tell me who it was. He wore a large black fireman’s hat. My husband walked through next, in a red jacket. (Yes, we do dream in color.) Then I woke up.

Needs:   I wanted to get this written down before I had time to forget this happy feeling I have from my dream. I no longer feel depressed like when I lay down for a nap this afternoon, nor do I feel quite as dissatisfied with myself as I did. Not normally a depressed person, I had chalked it up to mid-winter ho-hums, even though it was a beautiful sunny day. I wanted something; but couldn’t put my finger on it. I felt torn between funeral home, hospital, hospice and shut-ins, and a strong desire to sleep. Several people I know have passed away lately, and some others are hanging on the edge of eternity, so I felt sad about those situations. I think I wanted to be in so many different places at once, that I just crawled into the middle of it all and went to sleep. Or, maybe I just needed sleep. My sister says I’m a real mess when lack of sleep takes over.

Retreats:   Now, where was I going with this? Oh yes, sometimes we just have to retreat. Pull the quilt over it all and leave with Winkin, Blinkin and Nod. Life’s a battle as well as a journey. Scripture says the battle belongs to the Lord and that He has planned our journeys, but as we live it, effort and emotions can take their toll so God said rest. I admire those folks who seem to never wind down, energizer bunnies, who amazingly make it to every wake; visit, cook and care, spreading themselves among their communities tirelessly. God still said rest. I’m thinking those industrious people must know their own limits, though we can’t see it, and still make space for rest.

Rest For The Weary:    One of those who we’ve lost this week is Dr. Ron Wuest. He cared for his patients in body and spirit. My family and I have missed him very much since his illness forced him out of practice. Missing his wake and funeral, I felt like I had let him down. But I know he would be right in saying, “when you feel you need to rest, rest!” Another one gone is a friend’s mother, also a sister in Christ. Knowing they are saying goodbye to her is likely what triggered my dream. Besides those two, there is sweet Peggy Carraway, who decided her battle here is about done, and is now at the hospice house. She has a bright eternity to look forward to, and deserves a rest, but it is just one more reminder of the brevity of life. There are so many good friends suffering now in many ways, and I carry them in my heart. I pray for their peace, comfort and healing. In the past, when I carried a load of concerns I could always park it at my Mama’s house, and it would be much lighter when I picked it up to leave again. Now, with her gone, I forget now and then that I need to unload. I do pray, and always feel comfort there, knowing God hears and will answer. But sometimes there is that something else; God knew and I didn’t. I really needed my Mama lately and He gave me a beautiful dream – a visit and a rest. Indeed, I thanked Him for it when I awoke.

Now, if I get to helping myself to too much rest, I hope somebody will rescue me and put me back on my hamster wheel! Have a great week friends, and don’t forget to rest when needed.

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

 

 

 

NEW YORK CITY: The Trip is Over, What A Time We Had!

10 Monday Dec 2018

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS, Reflections, The unexpected

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As much as I would like to report on all the fabulous fun we had (and I will in coming weeks) on a recent trip to NYC, there is one topic that is squeezing its way through first – just like New Yorkers do! Or were those the tourists??? I have so many interesting things to talk about, and this week’s blog is a serious one;  the one I’ve thought about most, so I begin with a foggy, misty Sunday afternoon, Dec 2, 2018. It is a bit long, but trust me, the boat will reach the harbor, and I believe it will be a thought-provoking ride.

LIBERTY SHROUDED IN A FOG OF MISUNDERSTANDING

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One week ago I had the privilege of being on board a boat that shuttles tourists through  upper New York Bay to visit Ellis Island, where stands the former chief United States immigration station. Knowing we would be passing Liberty Island and viewing that grand old crowned lady with her torch extended to the world, gave me goosebumps! I could hardly wait, straining my neck and eyes for the first glimpse of her immense presence. As we approached a body of land shrouded in a fog, I began to realize that our day of rainy weather would indeed dampen my long-awaited experience. In the distance I could barely see a pedestal similar to the pictures I had seen of that upon which stands the statue named Liberty Enlightening the World, or, the Statue of Liberty. The nearer we moved toward Ellis Island, and coming alongside Liberty Island, the clearer her outline became, until at last from her back side we were able to see the green of her bronze and the light within her torch. The crown on her head was not as clear but oh, how excited I was just to see that torch! Mixed feelings flooded my heart about immigration, homeland, and liberty.

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Once inside Ellis Island’s station, I felt almost transmigrated myself into another time and person. The steamer trunks, instruments of medical examination, and articles of interrogation were just plain foreign to me. As I listened to the recordings, and imagined myself in those immigrants’ places, I felt so much sympathy for their sufferings and fears that I cannot adequately put it into words. The statue in her misty fog made a striking symbol that day of some of the emotions and happenings of those days. “Liberty shrouded in a fog of misunderstanding” came from my mouth as I had my first glimpse of Liberty. Little did I know that I would feel even more so after learning more of the immigration experiences.

I keep wondering who was so forgetful of his own or his ancestors’ infancy to the new world, that he could exert what we today deem cruel and unusual treatment of those who followed. The closest I’ve ever come  (and it doesn’t even compare really) to what they may have felt as they entered the great hall of importation, is the shoulder to shoulder crowd on the New York sidewalks with a din of foreign languages, taxi horns blaring, and the sun so hidden by towering buildings that I couldn’t tell east from west. People who know where they are going run over you who may pause, to wonder where you are going. If not with friends and a fearless leader, what could I have seen?Confusion. Fear. Misunderstanding. Those were the three big realities when people looking for a life of liberty, were met with the very opposite of liberty. “The ability or opportunity to act in accordance with one’s own wishes or without repression or restraint by authority.” That is one of several definitions for ‘liberty’ in Funk & Wagnalls Standard College Dictionary. The fog of misunderstanding that filled those halls cloaked the immigrants’ hope in a shroud of fear, rejection for some, pain, hunger and loneliness rather than the liberty and freedom they desired. One woman’s story was that she and her siblings came to America with their mother who had always had one black fingernail. She said “my mother had raised all of us and was never ill and had always had that black fingernail; we’d thought nothing of it!” Due to that one black fingernail, the mother was rejected and sent back to her country of origin, parted from her children, and the voice of that one telling her story quivered after all those years, with sorrow of growing up without her momma.

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After moving from room to room, being told via the audio equipment about hundreds of experiences,  I returned to the great hall, and rested on the very benches where immigrants sat long ago in a state of anticipation, inside a bubble of disorientation. Oh, by the way, if one had a “dazed and disoriented” look, he or she would be sent for a psychiatric evaluation,  having just come through the fog of travel into an unknown future, quizzed by someone who didn’t speak the same language, and answering through an interpreter. Dazed? I’d say so!

Well, not all was lost, of course. There were also some stories of unusually kind social workers, nurses, and an occasional immigration official who extended courtesy. Many were successfully poked and prodded into the world of progress, America by name. As President John F. Kennedy said, “Everywhere immigrants have enriched and strengthened the fabric of American life.”  How often do we stop to think,  would I be here at all if not for the immigration of some ancestors who made this their home, met another, and here I am – a little Irish, a lot English, and like everyone else, I like to think I am a fraction Native American too. That makes us feel a little less like intruders. Would those ancestors say it was worth it? I can’t imagine. But to go through the trauma, even today, of transferring your life into the face of another culture must be daunting to say the least; so what they are running from, well, must be pretty bad.

We’ve heard it said that with freedom comes responsibility. Parents love to recite that to their children, and for good reason. At no time has liberty been free. There are prices to pay. I mentioned earlier that I have mixed feelings about immigration. I’m just being honest here; not politically correct. I see both sides of the issue. As a Christian I can’t support shutting anyone out of a better life. On the other hand, I do not enjoy knowing our country is becoming more crowded every day; I am insulted by some of the attitudes and changes being etched into, or should I say eroding, our country’s standards; and I do wonder why people flee their own homes rather than staying to band together and make home a better place to live. That’s because I have never worn their shoes. Newcomers to this country were willing to dig in and make a living, shoulder the responsibilities of making a great nation, and earned the privilege of being an American. Somewhere along the line, we stopped holding that view. I do not know if I am shrouded by that fog of misunderstanding, or if immigrants-to-be are blinded by the word ‘liberty’ so that they do not understand the responsibility on leaders of a nation to protect its people. There must be some governing laws, or criteria by which immigration does not compromise the safety of a people. I believe God, the creator of the universe, teaches open arms. But also He teaches that once we escape the oppression of sin, we are not to return to the same. Likewise, if people are able to escape the oppression of one country, they must not become slaves to the oppressions of dependency, hatred and crime. I pray that those who are greeted by the Statue of Liberty, or any harbor of the USA, find people who are willing to teach, listen, and work together. In nursing, we sometimes say, “see one, do one, teach one” so that all are brought on board as equals. No one cares if your brass has tarnished, nor whether your crown shines, as long as you’re extending a torch of welcome, lighting the way.

It was enlightening for sure to learn of the past immigration process which, like our country, has evolved over time. I did not take time to tour the evolution of that process, because I couldn’t pull myself away from the history of it.  What I came away with however, was more important. That is, to be aware of the fog we can enter which may obscure our vision, be informed, be kind, and be responsible in our liberties.

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What to Pack: A Sweater of Peace

11 Sunday Nov 2018

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What did I expect, a “surrender Dorothy” message written across the sky?! When I prayed for peace and the ability to exchange issues of life for a good night’s sleep, I expected to be relieved of stress, but I hadn’t thought how He might do that.  When I prayed for changes in the lives of others, I didn’t believe I’d wake up one morning and find instant change, but I expected something to change, for I pray without doubting. I just didn’t expect the change to be me. I know God hears, and my problem is waiting…and waiting. In the meantime, He answered a deeper longing, a need for that peace that passes all understanding that He promises in Phil. 4:6-7.

What preceded this was a sleepless Thursday night. Unable to turn off my mind, I had finally gotten out of bed at 2:20, stood at the kitchen window wishing for sleep or daylight, read a short devotional and a couple of verses from Psalm. And I prayed. So hard did I pray, and silently sang “The Lifter of my Head”, over and over until I felt sleep crawling over my shoulders like a warm sweater. I drifted off thinking of packing a suitcase like last week’s blog, and this time the need was a sweater; a multi-purpose sweater as advised by my friend, that I should pack for an upcoming trip (thanks Linda Pugh). A nice big sweater woven of warm devotionals, color coordinated answers from God and patterned just for me, would be a most valuable take-along! A covering like the feathers of Psalm 91:4, “He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler.”

Friday morning I had answers from unexpected sources. As I said, I didn’t expect anything specific, just changes, so why was I surprised? Maybe because the changes were for me instead of what I had asked; reminders of peace, and that I am not alone. Here is where they were. First, sitting in the veterinarian’s waiting room, the receptionist (also my hairdresser) who knows me pretty well, said I looked tired. Yep. That would be correct. Before my fur baby and I left,  Rebecca had opened on her phone a devotional for me to read, a reminder that God replaces anxious and ill thoughts with peaceful ones, when we trust Him. That message on her phone hit the bull’s eye for my previous night’s wrestling match. Secondly, because God created some beautiful things called roses, I had to share on Facebook my final bouquet of the year, which led me to quickly scroll a few posts that popped into my news feed. Bam. A prayer shared by the daughter of a friend. It was from a “Midnight Mom Devotional” and that particular prayer, out of a whole year’s worth, was for the momma with an anxious heart. That led me to read her intro story which spoke of the sleepless nights from the time they’re born until forever. What resonated with me most was “The night can be so dark and lonely.” I went back to the prayer and as I read it aloud, I sobbed with relief, and it became crystal clear that these three women were used by God to lift me, comfort me, and show His peace.  Before I go, I want to share the name of that devotional: @MidnightMomDevotional.

Hairdressers, daughters of friends, authors, roses…SO much more natural than some miraculous or unthought of sign; little parts of our everyday life, brought to you by the Father Who hears, and loves you with answers while you wait for the bigger answers.

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

PEA PICKIN’ TIMES: There’s a Harvest Among the Tares.

12 Wednesday Sep 2018

Posted by in Faith, inspiration, Nature, The unexpected

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Among the Goliath weeds and dried corn stalks, roam my pea vines; more rich in vines and scarce in pea pods, I appreciate every last pea I find! Jesus taught in parables that He values every single soul that is still out in the world, not yet gathered into His Father’s house.  In late summer, early fall, there’s a rustle of harvest in the wind that thrills my senses. It’s pea picking’ time.

I always fail to eke out a pea patch from my husband’s crop land, so the pea seed must land in my fertilized garden where they grow rank, as do the weeds that thrive among pathways too grown over for our tiller. At a glance it looks pointless to even wander into the mess, but once within that daunting jungle, I find the hidden rubies that I call cornfield peas. Some years there are purple hull peas, but this year I only planted the heirloom seed from my Daddy, that I plant and save each year.  These also have purple hulls, grow longer than the traditional purple hull, and have a similar taste. From the ground to the top of corn stalks above my head, the pea vines run  over around and through anything in their paths. Along the maze can be found pods of delicious delight for the taking. And there I find each year that even the undesirable have a purpose. The strong stalks of pigweed, much to the horror of you dainty clean gardeners, provide arches as do the cornstalks I plant next to my peas for that very purpose. In my clean pea patches of the past, was the backache of bending to pick peas. Here in the land of traveling towering vines, I just reach out and take in. It’s like making lemonade when you’re given a lemon.

As I picked I was reminded of my first look at Guyana, S.A. where I had the privilege of working with our mission team on several occasions. Unfortunately, the first impression was made while taking in the canals of rotting animals and sewage, along with the odor of a factory’s byproducts. Our taxi ride made me seriously question the reason for being there. However, just one meeting with the delightful thankful Guyanese made it clear. There are jewels to be garnered among the rankest of weeds. I fell in love with the children, as well as the humble adults who welcomed us into their homeland. Never be so shortsighted as to judge the garden by the weeds. Oh, not as pleasant for sure in getting to the goods, but more gratifying at many levels. God didn’t say reaping grain among tares, peas among weeds, nor souls out of the world would be easy. He just said do it.

The first job ever given to mankind (unless you count ‘be fruitful and multiply’) was to dress the garden (Genesis 2:15).  While the difficulty of the job increased after ‘the fall’, the responsibility remained. “Thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field (Genesis 3:18). Prepare the soil, plant, fertilize and water, and weed out the undesirable plants until harvest. This will not be done without getting our hands dirty, and rubbing elbows with some real stinkers! Pigweeds, crabgrass, and squash bugs are probably my most detested garden inhabitants. There are indeed problems in the world, some we cannot live with and some we just have to work around. Whatever pigweeds are in your life, just use them to bring God glory with a good harvest.

“Do you not say ‘There are yet four months, then comes the harvest’? Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest.” John 4:35 ESV

Monday Mistakes – 3rd in Monday Series

13 Sunday May 2018

Posted by in MONDAY MUSINGS, The unexpected

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This is the post that I intended to publish last Monday. Ironically, the title was already “Monday Mistakes” and I forgot I had it ready, so I wrote what I posted last week instead. This is a follow-up on my weed and feed attempt from 2 weeks ago.

The weed and feed deed has been done. I assure you that the blacktop in front of us as well as the driveway will not be sprouting weeds any time soon! However, the middle of the yard should have weeds aplenty! My husband tried in his non-teacher way to tell me how to get started. But these seeder/spreaders are unforgiving; once that high dollar stuff is being fanned across the ground, there’s no bringing it back. Controlling the speed with one foot and one eye on the speedometer; the fan toggle with right hand, steering wheel with left hand, and my other eye trying to turn with my arthritic neck to check on the progress (the open/close handle wanted to jog shut from time to time) was a multi-tasking that I hadn’t done in many years. I’ll spare you the rest of the details, and just hope that I haven’t killed precious things in my effort to take out the unwanted weeds. Does this sound familiar?

Yes, in fact, we can do more damage than good if we do not balance the bitter with the sweet. In my dandelion driven distraction, I forgot to put the cat up; fortunately by the time I actually got started, the dew was all dried so I have hopes that he didn’t pick up the chemicals with his paws. In my haste, I forgot to decrease the distribution width on the first swipe, then I misjudged the radius of my turns and didn’t cut off the fan, so there is much overlapping, and that is not the end of my mistake list. But I had the best of intentions. They say roads are not paved with good intentions.  I was nearly finished with what I knew was not a good job, when I thought about the BIRDS!!! I love them more than pretty grass, so what was I thinking????? Now I will be watching for their welfare for days, with my stomach in a knot until I know that they are OK.

Have you ever put forth a great deal of effort in helping someone, only to decide in the end that you did more harm than good? Yes, so have I. It’s that balance thing again. Carefully selecting enough constructive criticism while being sure they know you care; and providing the encouragement they need is a daunting task. I have recently been in such a situation. After much encouragement from my heart, and sincere prayer for someone, I found that there was still something holding that person back. She just wasn’t able to get over the mountain in her path, but she seemed to be making so much effort! It was breaking my heart. Then when I observed what I’ll describe as slipping back over loose rocks that were sure to trip her as she climbed, I made one last  effort to give a hand up.

Regret seems to love me – it comes to sit with me often.  I just have to remember that my intentions were good when I worked to remove the weeds and fertilize the lawn. My methods were not as well thought out. But we just can’t throw the baby out with the bath water. I learn from mistakes; forgive myself and others; hope for new beginnings; and keep on loving. I believe I can feed, without the weeding next time. Encourage, without offending. Lesson learned.

 

 

The In and Out of Season

20 Saturday Jan 2018

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It is coffee-o’clock in the afternoon, and I am pondering the things that were on my mind as I walked Auggie just after noon today. With temperatures between 40 and 50, many folks around here are getting their wish for a thaw. As the saying goes, there’s a blessing and a curse in this. The sound of our walk has changed from the quiet whump whump of boots on snow, to the slosh slush of melting ice and snow underfoot. It is actually more difficult to keep my footing in this than it was on solid ice and fluffy snow.

What was beautiful white snow is now poxed with surfacing mud, weed and grass sprigs, and the gazillion tracks and seed shells strewn by grateful birds. The gleam of sunshine over a white field is clouded over today, and today’s 40 felt colder than 10 degrees did on a sunny day.  After a week of putting Auggie and myself into and out of  sweaters, coat, hood, scarf, boots, gloves, and even at times extra layers, plus a leash, well – I’m easing up on the job and thinking I wouldn’t make a good Alaskan!

No, the sounds and sights are not as pleasing to me, but 6 days without mail and the cancelled plans weren’t great either. Oh, I am not complaining. We certainly don’t experience this scenario much around here. I rather enjoyed the quiet time. I felt a purpose in life – keeping the birds fed, checking on my elderly family members, using groceries judiciously and preparing meals that would keep my man happy (smile – I know how old-fashioned that sounds) and keeping the household prepared just incase we lost electricity along the way.

But this isn’t the crux of my thoughts this morning. It was change. I think a lot about that lately. We went overnight from a 60 degree rain to temps in the teens with a layer of ice and several inches of snow.  Likewise, we went from teens back to 50 degrees in less than 24 hours today. My sister says my reaction time emotionally goes from zero to 90 in a moment. We go from stocked shelves and full refrigerator to “whats for dinner?’ in a few days of home cooking. I went from a peaceful moment of “I think I’ll get something out of the freezer” to a mad race for towels, containers, and yells for help. The freezer was off and our food had thawed. I cooked a great deal, gave some away, threw away  even more, and I now have a clean freezer ready to be refilled. I may have cried a tear or two, recalling the work I put into those garden veggies. It’s a small thing really, and I’m over it. But all those huge things that people endure as their seasons change are not coped with so easily. My heart bleeds for them. As I prepare to speak in March at a Ladies Retreat I will be giving a greater portion of thought to this thing we call change. Seasons.  Our seasons within seasons. The beauty and the beast of seasons as they come and go. And especially the Letting Go as we prepare for another!

Enjoy your season, whatever it is. They go by too quickly to miss a moment of each one. In a flash I will be watching for little garden seeds to sprout, bringing more of those vegetables we love. “Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all long-suffering and teaching.” (II Timothy 4:2 NKJV)

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Beauty at the Back Door

19 Tuesday Sep 2017

Posted by in inspiration, Nature, The unexpected

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I hate to bring you in through the back door, with the dried pea hulls, dead spiders, and bugs a billion, but here is where my Happy Monday moment came to me. Unexpected little pop ups throughout your day can be inconvenient, or perhaps pleasantly impossible to ignore. Either way, I encourage you to stop and – yes, literally – smell the flowers. Even if, and you know it happens, the flowers carry with them a host of hurdles to jump. Thorns, bees, a little pollen up your nose, or the vast array of weeds that do their best to hinder our floral pleasure, can take the shape of a flat tire, forgotten lunch, insufficient fund notices, or any of a  million things you can name right now that may have popped up from day-to-day.

As I hustled through my list (yes I do actually have to have a check-off list to get from point A to point B by the end of the day), I was making my way through the garage, which is a hurdle in and of itself, to take a basket of washed sheets to the clothes line. Please don’t fault me for not taking advantage of the dryer on a busy day, because the time it takes to line dry and bring back in a load of bed linens is small compared to the reward; the fragrance is WAY worth it! So, as I side-ways scooted my way past the car and opened the door to the back yard, an unexpected impasse to my path was met. Over a couple of days, the Rock and Roll rose bush had sprouted two branches that took off in their own direction – across the doorway of the garage. Well, I know they didn’t actually grow to that length in a couple of days, but I hadn’t noticed them yet. So, with a recent rain the new leaves and blooms took on enough weight to cause them to bend into my path. In my prior haste, I’d only made note to myself that I really need to cut that bush back, with the dropping leaves, and scarcely a bloom causing it to be more of a patio problem, than pretty. So what, you are wondering, is the problem with the two new stems? Getting past them with a loaded laundry basket in one arm, and avoiding the thorns with the other. Simply, I was slightly inconvenienced, because I was not turning around and making my way back across that car to go another route. Nor was I about to risk damaging the rose branches! So, I gently brushed them aside, made my way to the line and back, and then I noticed the intense color of the roses, unlike the faded ones at this late date of summer. I stopped and inhaled the beauty of what a tired old raggedy overgrown September rose bush had to offer. Indescribable. A perfume only God can make. And I just stopped, and said “wow, what can You do with me Lord, a tired old raggedy overgrown autumn soul?” He gave me this beauty at my back door, and He gives us a thousand a day. Be encouraged to know he can use us, all of us, in any season, to His glory.

While waiting for that flat tire to be fixed, if you are like me and never learned to do that for yourself, notice the strength in the hands and arms of the one changing the tire. Or, just enjoy a moment to catch a glimpse of the sky while you wait. Either way, there’s bound to be beauty in some of that. And while you’re at it, thank God you weren’t flying down the interstate when it went flat. If someone (yes that would be me) forgot their lunch, sneak in a smiley face and take it to them, or buy their lunch, and watch the glow of gratitude in their eyes. As for insufficient fund notices, I don’t have to tell you how beautiful pay-day is! Actually I have had those bad news bears to make their fiery way to my flaming face before I figured out I have to keep a hidden pad within the account that I do not show in my balance. That took care of that! But even in one of those hideous situations, there was the beauty of knowing I could depend on my good husband to pitch in some funds; also there was the beauty of our home town bank forgiving and waiving the fee on the first offense. Enough personal data!

There really is so much unexpected beauty that makes its way to the door of our hearts. Being invited to a group bible study, and finding an answer to a hidden weight in your heart; or taking the dog ‘out’ ONE MORE TIME, and finding the yard full of Eastern Bluebirds; reaching over to the roughened gnarled hand beside you and finding the security and love of the past 43 years; all these and so many more you could name, are examples of unexpected pleasures that came with a price. Or a leash.

Not long ago, I was going through the McDonald’s line to buy that one-dollar large Diet Coke I don’t need, and decided to buy a couple of large iced teas also, to take to a couple who were working at their newly purchased lake house. At the window, the employee said, “someone in a couple of cars ahead of you paid for two of these already”.  At times, there is so much beauty at the door, I can’t even do a good deed!

I made one of my very infrequent visits to a local nursing home lately. I was thinking, I just have to do this, how would I feel if I were there, this won’t take too long, etc. etc, like I know some of you have thought, too. Right? Just as I entered the room of a gentleman I’ve grown to love over the past few years, his sweet wife was leaving. She said, “Oh, good, he was feeling sort of blue because I’ve got to go before dark.” So, I sat down and just melted into the beauty of his blue eyes, as they brimmed with tears from time to time. Occasionally he would take a breath and let it out, but looking around, he couldn’t think of how to say what he might have wanted to say. He sobbed a bit when he told me it got pretty lonely there; but when I asked about his grandsons he smiled and his eyes sparkled. When I told him I was about to go visit someone else, he perked up some and said, “oh, they live here too?” So after I could no longer keep from commenting on his beautiful eyes, he chuckled and thanked me, and said, “you have pretty eyes, too.” Whether he meant it or not is insignificant; my heart was full! How could I ever again think of a nursing home visit as anything other than a blessing? Beauty at the door.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11 a)

“So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin: and yet I say to you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” ( Matthew 6:28-29 )

Happy Monday!

Happy Monday – Every Day is a New Day

14 Monday Aug 2017

Posted by in inspiration, Life, The unexpected

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Every day has its own bit of uniqueness, a surprise or two here and there. All we have to do is awaken with a willing heart to see, hear, and know. Even if you must follow a routine such as shower, dress the kids, grab a breakfast bar and fly out of the driveway waving  to the dog and realizing you didn’t tell your spouse goodbye, or good morning either for that matter, it can still be special. We’ve all done it; it’s called mundane. But as all that begins to grow old, you’ll realize there’s been a whole other world out there just watching you, waiting for a chance to please you, gifting you with an abundance of God’s grace. It’s called being still and knowing He is God. (smile)

I haven’t been posting my usual Monday snippets of life, partly because of the BUSY season and partly because I feel my enthusiasm over the daily grind of ordinary isn’t quite shared by all. Thank Goodness, it takes different strokes for different folks! If not, how bland that would be! But in a world of worry and weary, I just enjoy pointing out some of the fleeting moments that catch my eye. Those “oooh, something shiny” moments that take our attention away from the mundane, but not so breathtaking that we have to stop what we’re doing. Wait a minute – I just stopped what I was doing in order to share my little day of surprises – and it isn’t at all breathtaking. So, shiny, but not blinding. The Grand Canyon was one of those times that take my breath away; today is just normal stuff that makes life awesome, alive and blessed.

Opening the door this morning to find a gentle rain was my first surprise. It wasn’t storming, dark, nor falling loudly enough for me to know ahead that God had showered us with new blessings in the early morning hours. I now could hear all nature singing “hallelujah, hall-e-lu-u-jah!”  The Psalmist says of God, “You visit the earth and water it, You greatly enrich it; the river of God is full of water; You provide their grain, for so You have prepared it…You make it soft with showers, You bless its growth..” (Psalm 65:9,10b)

As I was doing the breakfast dishes I heard a little peck peck peck on the window that looks out onto the front porch, where my husband was sitting  with our Yorkie, watching the morning happen. This by the way, is a practice that has taken me 43 years to enroll him in but I think he is hooked. I stepped to the front door and saw the object of his attention. A sparrow hawk was sitting in our driveway no more than 20-25 yards from the porch steps. Now, being in a rural setting of Western Kentucky makes this no big deal; but actually having it to land and stay a while with people present is not our everyday occurrence. Perhaps I have falsely accused our cat with the deeds of “fowl” play! I ran to get the camera, snap, snap, snap – no, the batteries were too low to capture the picture; back in to get batteries, no AA’s to be found. Back to the porch where he was whispering loudly, “get my phone out of my back pocket” (well, why didn’t he tell me that in the first place?) and being a phone to which I am not accustomed to using for a camera, I fumbled, and alas, the hawk who seemed to know I was just about to succeed, flew.

Later, as I took outgoing mail to the box, I found Saturday’s mail was still there, including a large envelope from Christian Woman Magazine. I’d just about forgotten it was close to time for the September/October issue to be out! Inside is an article by yours truly, and even though I knew it was being published, there’s still that thrill of seeing it in actual print. The article is about the seasons of life, how change must occur, and we must let go of one to take on another. This can be so very difficult for so many reasons. If I can help any of my sisters-in-life on this planet to see the miracles of everyday life snippets, then perhaps that will give a hand up to their next rung on the ladder of life. We’re all on this journey together they say, so Happy Monday, or, ‘happy mundane’! By the way, if you’ve not seen an issue of Christian Woman in the last couple of years, I believe you would find it most enjoyable. Fun and/or serious articles, all interesting, by a variety of authors, sprinkled with recipes and tips for life and study make it hard to put down!

The more things change, the more they stay the same – a quote I heard a long time ago – meant to me that eventually you experience change so much it becomes ‘unchange’; and as the preacher of Ecclesiastes said, “there is no new thing under the sun”. But now, to me it means this: The more life happens, the more change we will endure, and the more change we endure, the more we will come to depend upon the One Who never changes, but provides a hope that is forever the same.  God’s plans are to give us a hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11).

“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones; a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to gain and a time to lose; a time to keep and a time to throw away; a time to tear and a time to sew; a time to keep silence and a time to speak; a time to love and a time to hate; a time of war and a time of peace.” Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8