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

14 Friday Feb 2020

Posted by in Family, Life, The unexpected

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

That Old Cat

13 Monday Jan 2020

Posted by in Reflections

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With all the illness and losses that plagued our friends and family through the past summer and fall, it didn’t seem appropriate that I lament publicly about an old cat wearing out. Now, winter is hard on everybody at some level, and having to bury anyone, even a pet, in the cold is just terribly unpleasant, not even counting the sorrow of loss. Since summer, the year has been hard on the pet population in our family. Our son, our daughter, a niece and we ourselves have each lost a pet. So, indulge me please as I talk about that old cat. One gray evening I drove into our driveway with this in my vision. My husband, who would certainly not want to be labeled ‘soft’ was on his backhoe across the road, digging a little grave because he knew I was on my way home from the veterinarian’s office with my old gray cat who’d taken his last trip home. We laid him wrapped in his soft camo blanket under an oak tree where he had played and hunted many a day. I wrote most of the following on that evening.

December 2019:  In the red glow of a winter sunset, I say goodbye to my friend of ten and a half years. Mr. Gray Kitty was the world’s best mouser and mole catcher ever. He appeared on my front porch the week of my mother’s funeral with one eye open and the other still closed. Now, how a new kitten could have found our five-block high porch from who knows where, is anybody’s guess. I gave up asking who placed him there, as everyone seemed as stumped as I. His first look at me sent him diving off the end of the porch into the shrubs, only to scale the wall a few hours later and then repeat the routine three or four more times. By the third day of placing a small dish of cat food under the shrubs, it became clear that he preferred diving and hiding over human contact. The second time my husband (yeh the tough guy) heard a meow followed by my denial of any cat ownership, he said, “OK, if you’re gonna keep it, get it fixed and get it’s shots.” And so Mr Gray became a member of our family. Funny how these four legged creatures never have to say a word; they just move in.

Mr. Gray kept me occupied that summer with orienting him to our house… or perhaps he oriented me to the world of cat lovers, and bossed his way into my heart. Cantankerous and funny, he came within an inch of his furry life more than once by killing my birds, but as they say, he WAS a cat. I finally attached two bells to his collar to give the birds a heads up that they were being stalked. Calling him in for the night was easier too, as I could hear the jungle jingle while he trotted in from the field to sleep in the garage, usually on top of my car, mountain lion style. I still smile at the memory of his mad dash out when the doors were opened in the morning, after which he would pause, look around as if embarrassed to say, “well, I don’t know what the rush is, nothing has changed”. As a hunter, he was amazing. Our garage was his trophy case. No sooner did we remove one headless prey, than he would deposit another. Mice, moles, rats, snakes, frogs, baby rabbits (I know, sad) and unfortunately birds, were all too slow for that old cat. Too quick for us as well, one minute he was rubbing our legs, purring for petting, and the next he was leaving scars on our arms. As the senior pet, he was much too cool to welcome the puppy. Eventually he was following, from a cool distance of course, when we took our afternoon walks. He had to admit hide and seek was fine as long a he could hide and pounce.

 

Finally, too old and sick to go on living, his hunts are over. I now bury him at the time of day he would be coming in to tell us he is still king hunter, and looking for his Temptations treats. I will miss his little freckled nose.

If there’s a moral to this, and I’m not sure there is (I just wanted to tell you about that old cat) then the moral might be this. Animals do not come in touting all their accomplishments nor proclaiming their worth. Whatever it is they are supposed to do, they just move in and do it; guarding, hunting, cuddling, whatever they find to do, they do it with all their hearts. Not a word of our language, yet they show great loyalty and return our care with love unlimited.

“And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance; for you serve the Lord Christ.” (Colossians 3:23-34) NKJV

Listen To The Music

31 Tuesday Dec 2019

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One hour and 15 minutes remain of 2019. Gary has turned the Dish to Country Gold music and I am hearing music from too long ago to say.  I’m sure when we were listening to this music as new music, we thought the years would be pretty much one the same as another, lazily rolling by, time to do so many things and time to leave much undone as well. To my surprise, terror and delight, those years rushed like rapids over the falls and have held anything but mundane. Every corner we’ve turned caught us off guard with accomplishments as well as disappointments. I think they call it life. The music as well has changed with time; it’s been years since I enjoyed country music. Tonight I am being reminded how I used to like it. Dan Seals’  Baby’s still Got Good Timing, and Patsy Cline’s still Crazy, but I feel like my time has crazy vanished. John Conlee sings it doesn’t matter “As Long As I’m Rockin’ With You” and that really is I think the crux of world problems; and that’s that people used to matter more than stuff. If the Louisiana Woman and Mississippi Man could get along, have hearts big enough to span gaps, why can’t we in this madly convenient world manage to get along?

I’ve left the Christmas tree lights on for tonight, maybe just trying to stretch another year out a little bit longer. I feel like I need more time to do the things I meant to do, say the things I wanted to say,  help more folks do life a bit easier, listen a great deal more to the words of God – really listen with my heart as my eyes read it. I’ve wasted my share of time; I plan to fix that if I ever find the receipt to buy it back.  In the meantime, it would be best to cherish every day and make it matter to someone; just a day at a time, a hand held, a dollar given, a shoulder lent or an ear bent. Mostly I want to become a better listener. I’ve wanted to be an encourager for a long time, even named my FB page after Barnabas the encourager, but I can do a better job of that if I learn to listen first. Yes. That’s my effort toward a new year of this vanishing gold called ‘time’.

Listening to music from the past, I find I want to hear the people of my past who are no longer here. I want to hear an echo of whatever good intentions I must have had even though they didn’t pan out. I want to hear what history would warn us to watch for to save our country. I want to hear God’s direction loud and clear. And I want to hear YOU, you – are more important than stuff.

Tonight I’ll close my eyes and pray my gratitude for God’s unspeakable riches and mercy. He listens. He teaches. He forgives. In a way, He gives refunds daily, no receipt necessary. In fact, He loves it when we bring back the empty months to exchange for a brand new start. I absolutely love Him!

Happy New Year in ten minutes friends, family, world. This is Where The Cowboy Rides Away, right George?

December 27, 2019 THE AFTERGLOW

29 Sunday Dec 2019

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Morning sun has turned to overcast skies. The dishwasher consumes the remains of another meal made from our Christmas Day dinner. I sit down with my forgotten friend to type out my thoughts which come and go as quickly as the holiday activities. I have a mug of warmed wassail with a serving of cream cheese and habanero pepper jelly on Nut-thins. The pepper jelly was one of many gifts brought in this week by loved ones, and reminds me that though they have gone on their ways, their sweet presence and memories stayed on to warm me through my winter days.

As if six nights and days were not a more than generous sharing of her time, I may have tried to guilt our daughter into staying just one more night…to do one more day of leisure, or shop, or nothing…just to revel in the blessing of family. Though our son had just driven out to help us delete some of the many leftovers, visited and saw his sister off, I still tried bribing him to come back out and spend Friday evening with games and appetizers…oh the tactics of a mother about to be left in the wake of a blessed and busy Christmas week!

The house is quiet, Auggie wants a nap, husband is back to routine business, and the forgotten Christmas pickle hangs on a new limb of the tree. 20191227_093757
An over-looked trash bag stuffed with torn wrapping paper hangs from the back of a rocking chair, and the refrigerator bulges yet with left-overs! I have a closet full of gifts to sort and put away for husband and me; granddog hair to vacuum and bedding to change. There is a lonely glow of the tree lights reflected on the floor now uncovered and bare where there were piled gifts of love and generosity from and to our family and friends. A similar glow is in my heart reflecting the precious smiles of great-nieces and nephews, img_0444

the shrieks of laughter as we played Santa Auction among the adults and the contented sighs after the meal; a meal that followed my brother-in-law’s prayer of gratitude for bountiful blessings and family time, and mostly for the Christ child whom we try to honor as we give, and serve, and love, and pray and encourage one another.

Before I know it, the ground will be warming and planting season will be here from which I will hope to reap fresh produce and see productive crops for our farmers. Likewise, may the good deeds done and the love given this season, reap much happiness and closer ties that last the whole year through.

Come to think of it, Auggie has the right idea – it is about time for a nap! Until next Christmas season, I ask Father God to bless our home, community and country with the peace that I feel down deep in my soul at this time. I will be praying especially for those who did not have all their family with them, and for those who, sadly, feel far from prayer.  Bless the name of God, the giver of all perfect gifts, the Father of Light as we rest in Him to bear our disappointments and pain; knowing that His balm and peace are eternal, and perfect.

Have a truly happy, healthy and peaceful new year!

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”  James 1:17

Holding Onto Life

24 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by in Faith, Life

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

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

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

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

 

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

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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.

 

Saying Goodbye to Ewing Stubblefield

27 Sunday Oct 2019

Posted by in Celebrating, Faith, Family

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Any day I get to see my dear friend is a happy day, but today was a happy and sad  occasion to see her. Linda Pugh and her family were here for her father’s funeral, and I knew before they concluded the touching service that this would be an evening of writing for me.

Listening to Ronny Stubblefield deliver a portion of his dad’s eulogy, I felt unexpected tears begin to gather; not sad tears, but sympathetic ones for a family saying farewell to their daddy, and from a sort of recognition that I didn’t anticipate. I say unexpected because this was the celebration of a life well lived; 90 years of life and those years lived with full expectation of eternal life with his Lord hereafter. Also, I thought I really didn’t know Ewing Stubblefield very well, even though his daughter is one of my dearest friends. Linda and I were roommates at Freed-Hardeman College our first semester away from home. I began to know her family through her voice, and today as the three children and several grandchildren conducted Mr. Stubblefield’s funeral, I realized that I did know him better than I thought.

I knew something of Ewing Stubblefield for one thing, through the strength he passed on to his daughter. His quiet and gentle spirit as well, lives in his children. Also, because of the dedicated way he had worked to be sure his children attended college, I knew him as a lover of education and reading even before his sons Terry and Ronny spoke of that today.  Their college degrees fulfilled the dream of a hard working farmer/factory-worker/preacher who never had the opportunity himself to go beyond high school.  Every time I visited his assisted living apartment, he had an open book in his hands, pictures of family everywhere, and even with dementia setting in, he was the most courteous gentleman! So, I knew of his love and respect for family and friends. Many moons ago I had attended church services with Linda, and her daddy was the preacher; I knew he loved the word of God. I also knew that he had a distaste for denim overalls – now I know that included jeans as well. It’s a generational thing I think.

As I looked over the family area of benches today, there were many brown eyes, dark hair, and tall ‘straight’ statures, (as my Grandma used to say of those with good posture), all carrying the genetic traits of Ewing Stubblefield. I have a feeling that what mattered more to Mr Stubblefield though, was that he passed to his descendants the torch for God’s word; that they were continuing his legacy of strong but gentle people, proponents of education, and loving family in their own way. Terry mentioned that his dad didn’t express love and affection so much; men of his generation generally didn’t, but oh my how he lived it! If a kid from Lynn Grove could visit New Providence a few times, go to school with the man’s daughter, and observe from outside his circle that he was a strong, dedicated man full of love and devotion, then he absolutely lived it.

What a blessing when a family can be gathered around their father and watch as he breathes his last breath from that tired and temporal body, being transformed as Paul states in Philippians chapter 3:

20 For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, 21 who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself. (NKJV)

Whether you read this as being in His glorious body, the church, or as becoming a glorious spiritual body as Christ is now, there is clearly the thrilling knowledge that for God’s children, leaving this earth is the beginning of a wonderfulness we can only imagine. Oh happy day!

Just Forgetful, Not Lost

14 Monday Oct 2019

Posted by in Faith, MONDAY MUSINGS

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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

Posted by in Encouragement, MONDAY MUSINGS

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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)

It Won’t Always Be Summer

01 Sunday Sep 2019

Posted by in Life, Through my window

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As surely as tomorrow follows today, autumn will come. However, the summer seems endless when days are long, long, long; long on high temperatures, storms and jobs that never seem to be done. The nights are so filled with sound and humidity that they feel solid, heavy and packed. It’s tempting to think summer’s lock can’t be picked; that there’s time to relax and get everything accomplished in our own time. I look out at the rain watered lawns and growing soybeans, and see no sign of autumn; step out of the door and the heat confirms it – summer still has a firm grip.

In spite of all that, the calendar still says today is September. We will wake up one morning to a crisp October frost and then the green will disappear. Along with it, the heat and humidity, and the hope of crossing off every single job on our to-do lists for that seemingly endless summer, will be gone. I will not be sorry. It’s been a hoot, Summer, but I do not mind to see you go. I’m tired. I am ready to cede the rest of my to-do list to your future successor. If the Lord wills that we see another summer, I’ll deal with that then.

Today, though, I’m thinking of something else. Being in my autumn of life, I wonder if I handled summer okay. You know, we often treat the summer of life much like the months of summer. Perhaps so overwhelmed with all we want to accomplish in life; with the heat of responsibility; with the growing pains and stormy seasons, we may decide to live it up first, tempted to “eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may die”.  Or, we could procrastinate, totally unable to imagine the autumn of life, let alone the winter,  the end. Unfortunately the calendar doesn’t warn us about stages of life as it does about seasons of time. The end of our year can slip up overnight, or it may take thirteen months. Either way, summer will end. With all the real-life reminders lately of the brevity of life, I find myself asking, what is most important?

We’re asked in God’s word, when we die, “then whose will those things be?”(Luke 12:20 NKJV) So, I want to leave things that are valuable to others – the others who will have what I leave. Kind of makes you want to clean out closets, shelves and such doesn’t it? Anyway, I really feel all they want me to leave are good memories for them; the knowledge that I have loved them well; and maybe a few dollars (well, be honest, it would be nice).  I want to leave all that and this – a faith rooted so deeply in the truth that it will never waver as they hold it and examine it, the way we open a letter from someone who has passed from us;  a faith that points to Jesus Christ, guiding them every day of their lives. I want to leave a love for God so big that they are led to get in, deeper, and find there the eternal life that God left us; that is, a life that leads toward an eternity where summer is perfect – as fresh as spring, as fulfilling as a bountiful autumn harvest and yet it is always summer- and where winter never comes.

‘Make hay while the sun shines’. ‘Don’t put off for tomorrow what you can do today.’ Those old sayings are steeped in truth. The words of Jesus: “And behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to give to every one according to his work.” (Revelation 22:12)