“There is so much good in the worst of us, and so much bad in the best of us, that it ill behooves any of us to find fault with the rest of us.” James Truslow Adams
To look at these tired bug-eaten bean plants, you would not expect anything worthwhile to come from them. Do we ever look at people that way? Do we feel like giving up? Last week I was ready to pull up the vines, hoping to make a less withered-looking garden spot. But, in true bean-lover form, I thought I would take one more look. Hot dry weather, a gardener who lost her will to weed, time and bugs, have worked on them for sure. People, too, get beat down, worn out and tested, but God — how many times in scripture do we read “but God…” — made it better, or saved entirely, a dire situation. Example: “And the patriarchs, becoming envious, sold Joseph into Egypt. But God was with him. ( Acts 7:9)
Now look at that little one-gallon ice-cream bucket there beside the row. Beneath these spindly Blue Lake bushes, remained the little moisture and will to live, given by the Lord Himself. Underneath the bushes, I found long tender beans just waiting to be noticed.
As a gardener in a garden, God the Father plants us, waters and nourishes us with all good spiritual gifts, sacrificed blood, sweat, and tears for us, and prepares a table for His expected harvest. He did not give up on you or me nor all humanity. He sees. We search. He loves. We try again. “Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.” (I Corinthians 15:58)
By the time I finished both rows, I had two of those little buckets full; and a heart full of resolution to look harder for the good in everyone, as well to surrender the “I’m too old to be useful” idea. Like Daddy’s little ice-cream buckets, we can be repurposed and useful as long as we last. I’m not pulling up those green bean plants. I saw several blooms and baby beans that, who knows, just might make it to another dinner table. I don’t see them giving up until we, or Jack Frost, tell them to.
Never give up — on yourself, or anyone else — while there is life there is hope. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13)
An excellent lesson last evening on fear, and conquering it through the promises of Isaiah 41:10, reminded me of a draft I had started a few years ago. I brought it out and brushed it up, so we will take a break from the “Old Tables and Old Tales” series.
“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10) ESV
Stifled sobs from my shaking body awakened my husband, who in turn woke me from a nightmare. I couldn’t stop sobbing, even after getting to my feet to shake the troubling images from my head. I went straight for my phone not even caring what time it was. My son answered quickly, and by that time I was in the kitchen where I saw it was only 10:45. But the depth and distress of the dream made it seem like the middle of the night.
The question of where do dreams come from has never been answered to my satisfaction. It seems the mind just goes on random thought tangents with no boundaries. While common sense is sleeping, the little imps of imagination play. Obviously, some dreams are the result of fears – even those we have hidden away. Like dreams, real life can surprise us around any corner with a jack-in-the-box, either scary or funny. It’s only natural to hide from one and hope for the other.
I recall a recurrent nightmare from childhood. Three times at least, over a span of time, I dreamt that I was in my aunt’s house, the square-style house with four rooms all connected without a hall. You can start in the kitchen, go left into the bedroom, turn left into the next bedroom, turn left and enter the living room, then left again into the kitchen where you started. In my dream, there was a wooden highchair in the kitchen. A bear would begin to chase me, through the circuit of those rooms, around and around. Just as it was gaining on me, I would dive under the highchair. The bear in my dream would stop, sniff around the chair, and the pounding of my heart would wake me. I’m pretty sure I know the fear behind the bear; and the hiding place being in that particular house, had to be that I always knew I was safe and loved there. Love conquers fear.
The gut-wrenching fear that spurred my more recent nightmare is one I believe all parents have in common. We do not want to see our children lose their hope – oh not the hope of Christmas Eve or birthday eve when kids know a fun-filled morning will follow – but true hope, an expectation, a belief that some yet unseen, good thing can and will happen. As adults we have seen enough ice-cream cones plop, to make us guard our hope. We’ve had earthly plans and hopes fall through, and we’ve also seen promises from God fulfilled as He held our world together. This is our hope to keep on trying. That’s what we want for our children isn’t it; to experience enough good so that good becomes their expectation. And to know their hope is tethered to the sure promises of God.
I believe the incidence of mental illness, suicide, and physical ailments are directly related to the loss of hope – hope that there is something, someone, greater than this shaky world. The natural tendency is to hope in this world’s goods and accomplishments, because that’s where we started as children, when we thought hope was in wishes. With maturity, the hopes and losses get bigger. Love, friendship, trust – the big ticket items – hurt much more if lost, than getting the wrong Barbie, or having your birthday party rained out. I remember my Mama telling me it was so much easier to treat my skinned knee with a bandaid and a kiss, than to treat my heart aches. I didn’t appreciate that until I had children of my own. After enough bumps and bruises from this world, we gain appreciation for stability – yoked, tethered, and anchored to our true and living God – all-knowing, unmoving, and strong enough to stop the bears that cause our fear. And we want to see our young realize this true hope – the strengthening, helping, upholding hand of God. (Isaiah 41:10)
What we never want to see as they grow up, is one slap, one punch, one blow after another, until they don’t feel they can get up. We want them to keep being excited about life; to know that good overrules evil, and right is never wrong. We want to see the gleam in their eyes until we close ours the final time. Their happiness is more important to us than our own. That is why we must, MUST show them the hope that never fails. We must take the time to talk our God knowledge out loud, to show them real hope lives, and it sure as shootin’ ain’t in the shifting times we’re living! God gave us a world of beauty, fun, friends and abilities; but more than that, He has promised that no matter how this world goes, His children have Him walking them through it all.
I’ll wake up one morning, far from those nightmares, where fears are no more. No sobbing, no shaking, no heartaches and no dashed hopes. I know this because I have read God’s promises, along with the proof of His faithfulness. No matter how much we have now, we will never have it all, until we rest in the Lord. Until then, nothing in this life is certain. We’ll keep running from room to room until the bear dies and the house is turned over to God. I thought I had turned my fears over to God, but apparently some still simmered in the background, producing bad dreams of lost hope. If my hope is really in the Lord, I won’t be hiding in fear with my heart pounding, but hidden in hope, away from fear’s chase, secure in Jesus Christ.
So, who is the bigger giant here? Is it hope, or is it fear?
Fear is big that is for sure! But hope stands higher as the cure
Fear chases like an angry bear. Hope is the rock that seals his lair.
Fear is strong, but stronger yet, is the hand of God – the help we get.
Fear can slap you to the ground, Hope in the Lord will make you sound.
Fear is daring, I can’t deny. But for our hope the Savior died.
My first favorite verse of scripture was Isaiah 40:31. But verse 30 includes our youth, so I have amended my favorite to include both verses. I love my children, and my nieces and nephews so much; and I pray their fears are conquered, their hope in this life realized, and their true hope in the Lord to be more than they dared ever dream.
“Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:30-31) ESV
A Hebrew lexicon explanation of “but those who wait” is the word “Qavah” meaning “to wait, look for, hope, expect”. (Strong’s Hebrew 6960) My prayer is that we, all generations, will hope in the Lord, that we will run, walk, and soar with the eagles.
Standing cross-armed beside the small hummingbird feeder, I watched my Yorkie walk through the grass to do what little doggies do. Suddenly a faint buzzing blew past me and the owner of it hovered at the feeder. Not even an arm’s-length away, a ruby-throated male hummingbird began stabbing the plastic blossoms, drinking the nectar inside, and holding me captive – and captivated. It probably lasted no more than a minute, but it was a nice long southern minute, and I enjoyed it immensely. As they say, “it’s the little things”.
Inside an old weathered wooden bluebird box, are five little helpless baby bluebirds. I watched the parent birds build their neat little nest; then I soon counted one, two, three, four, and then five beautiful little aqua blue eggs, one egg per day. Fifteen days later, I raised the door to look inside, finding five scrawny fuzzy little heads barely bobbing about. Since then, I’ve looked inside to find tiny beaks wide open, awaiting the anticipated meals delivered so faithfully by the parents. They are too near fledging time for me to look inside now, for fear of causing premature fledging; but I feel pretty sure we will see an empty nest soon, and the world will be blessed with five little beauties looking for their place in the wild. I cannot keep myself from sending up a little prayer for their safety. It’s the little things, you know.
My husband has been on a frenzied mission lately. With an old badminton racket in hand – sometimes a battery-powered insect swatter – he is determined to get the carpenter bees before they riddle the framework of his outdoor buildings. Sitting on the front porch where the little buggers have tunneled through my swing, he is totally distracted from all else by these little things. I hope he wins. I like my swing. Little things – some good, some not so good.
It is only the end of April and I am about to start thinking all is not well with springtime. Just before a rain, during the rain, and after the rainfall, a trail of misery finds its way into the kitchen. By way of the minuscule crack where woodwork meets the wall, or under the baseboards, the tiny black crawling invasion makes its way onto any surface attached to the floor. The dog dishes are the first to be attacked; next, the countertop becomes their goal. Ant traps, spray cans, and constant cleaning seem to occupy way too much of our time. It is, sometimes, the little things that bother us most.
We enjoyed a lovely Easter weekend. I kept thinking of the big things – our daughter and son being near enough to spend the time with us; the table full of food and the ability to prepare it; the big-beyond-words sacrifice God made in allowing His perfect son Jesus to be the atonement for our sins; and ultimately, the enormous and wonderful morning of resurrection, making eternal life possible for all. “He is not here; for He is risen, as He said. Come, see the pace where the Lord lay” (Matthew 28:6) NKJV. For all this, I am truly thankful. The big things genuinely are amazing. But what I found myself commenting on most, was the beautiful weather – a seemingly little thing. Rain had been forecast for the weekend; what we got was sunshine and a good breeze. Something unexpected – even something small – can be such a pleasure that we just can’t stop mentioning it. I guess it’s the little things that keep us pacified and occupied, while the big things – the strong important things – hold us up and carry us through. Could be, we are all just a bunch of little kids, being pacified and occupied; and God looked lovingly at us, and said, “It’s the little things that count.”
Have a great week! Watch for the fascinating little things.
Empty stockings, bulging refrigerator. Dog toys and dust all over the floor. Silent Saturday, children have gone home. Instructions to read for the new gifts we own. Stacks of laundry, and weight growing too, we lied we wouldn’t eat for a day or two. A few strings and dust scattered under the tree; lights off, old and new ornaments smiling at me. Moments of “what happened to the time”, blend with new plans for new year to unwind. New candles to light, burned ones to store. In a week 2024 is no more.
Happy New Year, dear reader. January 2, 2025
What a joyful surprise today! An unexpected visit from our previous neighbors who moved ‘up north’ a couple summers ago. The Opferman family, Michael, Karen, Joey, Tim and Megan were the sweetest neighbors ever and I miss them so much. This visit was the crowning touch to my holiday season! As the new year approached, I’d had such varied thoughts flying around in my head.
Like new years and old; laughter, tears and being bold; hope and disappointments and blessings untold; fear and faith, sadness and joy and the world we face. All swirling and trying to make sense of each other as they occupy the same space. Focus, I need to focus!
Like a wind among autumn leaves as they mount upward around and around trying to reach the top of their swirling funnel, so have been my thoughts and until today I could not plant myself at the keyboard to focus on one new year’s message. Now I know it – no, it is not ‘may all your dreams come true’; nor is it ‘may you prosper in all you do’; nor is it any resolution for myself. (I am reminded each new year of my previous new year’s resolution some 20 or more years ago, which was to never make another new years resolution. I have kept it quite well.). Although, I’d be happy for you if all your dreams came true. But then what would there be left for you to hope? Oh, and I will celebrate every prosperous season of your life, but perhaps you need to continue striving in some things, to grow stronger in faith, in confidence, and have a reason to hope.
My message this year, brought by today’s surprise visit is this – may each day hold some joy for you; one or many, small or big, a joy that you may be able to hope and work with a purpose. My joy is knowing Jesus loves me unconditionally, and wants me to succeed in every worthy endeavor. It makes working a joy. It makes hope against this world a joy. This joy brings new chances after failures. This joy offers new journeys for closed doors, and forgiveness for regrets. It is a win/win deal; His strength for my weakness; His wisdom for my lack of it; to know at the end of any failed effort or any rejection of good intentions, if I can say I did my best when the day is done, there is joy. Joy in peace, in knowing God continues with us, bringing joy in big and small ways and finishing the things we’ve begun. He lights new candles for us as He sees the need. Last evening I stepped outside to see an amazing sunset of fiery red and orange behind the thousands of dark bare tree branches reaching upward out of the woods into a navy blue sky. There was the slightest sliver of moon and above it was the ‘star light star bright, first star I see tonight’. Now THAT’S a candle! Shivering in the cold I felt joy in knowing that I know the creator of all this! Pure joy.
A few highlights among many personal joys for me in 2024: our son bought his first house; sweet friends Nan and Tonya beat cancer; another dear friend Dana has courageously beat obstacles in her journey toward healing; my brave mission leader and friend Beth had a successful first surgery before upcoming ones; my husband asked for a new bible for Christmas; and my husband is finally really and truly for sure and certain, retired from farming.
May each day hold for you at least one joy. Happy New Year! Trisha
“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him.” James 1: 2-5 NKJV
“For the earth will be filled With the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, As the waters cover the sea.” Habakkuk 2:14 NKJV
Awaking on a muggy July 3 it is already hot at 6:30 am. My dog and I make a short trek down toward the boat dock. A bum knee forces me back to the safety of my sister’s lake house. The view out the window says its a beautiful morning in spite of the heat and humidity. And in fact, it is.
Kentucky Lake
Life has its hot moments, for sure; life feels like a heavy wet blanket when troubles loom large. Backing away or retreating for a moment into the Word of the Lord refreshes and brings the big picture into perspective. God is still God; good and gracious. In the midst of troubles, He provides a rest and brings us out into a clear day. The heat will pass. The word of God endures forever.
Bless the name of the Lord. His glory covers the earth.
“Casing all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.” I Peter 5:7
The sky has darkened, wind is gusting and rain is falling. Our resident hummingbirds dart in for another of many meals throughout the day. As the wind picks up, one female is left to continue receiving the nectar and eventually a gust tosses her under the covered porch and whips her back out into the crepe myrtle limbs. She disappears a moment, and as I hear her clicking chatter resume she circles the feeder triumphantly, resuming her natural duty – survival.
Neither the gathering clouds, nor rain, nor rumbling thunder gave these tiny troopers pause in their itinerary. I, on the other hand, pretty much close up shop; at least head for the cover of a porch. And if lightening joins the fun, I am done. Inside, checking with Alexa for the latest storm warning, and lighting a candle, I nearly forget any purpose I had for the day. With a fresh cup of hot coffee, I stand at the window and observe the way of nature.
In my observation, I remember the One who created the birds of the air; the One who sent rain over Noah’s ark; the One who calmed the storm. With one breath, one word, one touch of His hand, all creation – even the wind and the waves obey Him. “And they feared exceedingly, and said to one another, ‘who can this be, that even the wind and sea obey Him?’ ” (Mark 4:41)
I allow too many clouds to overshadow my joy. This is not good. If I hide from the storms and run from the rain, I miss the beauty of knowing I am already in good hands and receiving the peace this brings. Leaning into the storm, I find the One, Jesus my Savior, who already has command of my life. “For He commands and raises the stormy wind, which lifts up the waves of the sea.” (Psalms 107:25)
Lovely little hummingbird, I learn from you. God provides; I must not fear. “For He satisfies the longing soul, and fills the hungry soul with goodness.” (Psalms 107:9) My survival in this stormy world of chaos, and the darkness that persists in a world who has rejected God’s way, depends on the sustaining nectar of God’s Word. Go ahead storms, toss me around like lady hummingbird, and I will be directed back to His way by the breath of His word.
No matter how far or near I travel, even for a few days, I grow more appreciative of home. As I reminisce about a recent trip, and watch our cotton candy sky give way to dusk, I feel there really is no place like home.
I was thinking about the comparisons we make, which can be bad, stealing our joy; or good, increasing our appreciation for things. How was this place compared to that? How is home compared to there? How is our traveling compared to thirty years ago? (!) Having some bit of trouble re-acclimating myself to being home, I kept going outside for fresh air and just to look around and appreciate being home. My head felt “fuzzy” which could have been due to four days of driving the up, down and round and round path from Smokey Mountains to Asheville NC and back. It could as well be from riding with the country boy who found the reins and permission to go home. With ears pinned back and the scent of the stables, this steed was not looking back! I do believe he drove it like a rental!
Our early fiftieth anniversary celebration trip was splendid in many ways, but home cannot be overrated! I brought home touching memories, funny memories, and well, just memories (maybe best left unpacked). But from our front door, we found comfort and beauty like nowhere else. Not because it’s spectacular; no, that was the Biltmore Estate. Not because it is luxuriously accommodating; no, that was the Inn on Biltmore. Simply because it is ours. If there is any comparison to be done, it is only to say, it is better, because it suits us just fine. I found our beautiful Burning Bush hailing from the lawn and Brandywine Maple leaves raining from tree to ground. Our red leaves are no brighter, but no less striking, than those of other areas. But these leaves are here; our leaves. That makes them more appreciated; no prettier, just more appreciated. The drizzle of rain here is nothing spectacular, but so welcome! While in North Carolina, we experienced their severe draught, with disappointment at seeing very little autumn color. Other than a splash here and there of dull yellow, there was a brilliant red oak, common name Scarlet oak. They rather enjoy the dry conditions and were strutting their stuff! Compared to expectations, the lack of color could be a letdown. But compared to the rest of the landscape, those oaks were outstanding! And more appreciated than ever. Otherwise, leaves clung to trees drained of color, and not all the brown fields were due to harvest. A cloud of dust followed a John Deere combine as the soybean crop was being harvested on the Biltmore Estate. Rows of sunflowers surrounding the soybeans hung their big brown faces toward the ground, gasping for a break from heat and dust.
Travel itself can be a larger issue than the destination, so it helps to keep our eyes on the goal. We plan the route and reservations, pack the necessities, and prepare with small GPS screens and chargers, which once was a paper atlas, at least 10 by 14 inches in size. It’s the unknowns that must be dealt with as they arise. Detours; must I say more? To avoid backed up traffic our GPS took us off I65, and onto the ‘scenic’ route. I still feel dizzy just thinking about it. While we slowed down to a new speed limit, there was no stalled traffic and we had opportunity to really see that part of the foothills. On life’s journey, try a detour; even if a forced one. With a different pace you may experience some amazing stuff. Assuredly, if we let God plan the route and we pack according to His instruction, we’ll be prepared for those unknowns – as much as is possible.
Whether the journey goes as planned, or has sudden rounds of ‘what?’, all roads eventually lead home. Our son’s first book he learned to read was called “Home Is Best” which as a toddler, he ‘read’ from memory of hearing it read to him. It began, “East, west, home is best. Sometimes home’s a hanging nest.” It went through many animals and the different kinds of homes they have. Each one is the best. Because it is theirs. Make your home what it needs to be for you and your loved ones’ comfort. Protect it, cherish it, and make it the safe haven from which all can go out and appreciate the world at arms length, and then love coming home.
Likewise, life’s journey has beautiful rewards, as well as its ups and downs. The goal should be getting back home; the eternal home that God has waiting for us. Life can be a fun trip, or the travel may be difficult, but oh, won’t it be great to get home! In Ecclesiastes 12:5, we are reminded, “for man goes to his eternal home, and the mourners go about the streets.” Thinking about the difference age has made in actual road trips, the difficulty of it and adjustments to be made, I realize reluctance to see the vacation end is a thing of the past. We are so ready to get home. Similarly, aging does a miraculous thing about this life thing – we may not cling to it as we did in our youth. The more we roam, the more Heaven is our home.
I try not to get too wrapped up in the trip and keep my eyes on home. Jesus has prepared it (John 14:2), protected it for our homecoming, has forwarded the route details to us in His holy word, and I genuinely believe His presence there will make the trip worthwhile. Trisha
“For we know that if our earthy house, this tent, is destroyed we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” II Corinthians 5:1
Being wakened by a clap of thunder and a streak of lightening, before the alarm sounded, was a sweet and salty mixture this morning. Salty as a coarse eye opener, and sweet as the heavy rain lulled me back to a cozy sleep.
When we awoke for real about an hour later, my husband recalled how storms for him, had morphed through his life from a threatening monster into an actual sleep inducer. My thoughts, however, had hopped on a different train. One specific clap of thunder stands out in my mind above all others. It happened on the day of my mother’s passing from this life. And it was no sleep inducer!
A day in June dawned clear and warm, as most others had, with one exception; my mother was gone. Following all the usual information exchange with hospital personnel, we were drawn back to the house I had seen her leave for the last time, several days before. I ran through the front room and hallway into her bedroom crying her name and as I reached her bed, I begged, “Oh God, please let me hear her voice just one more time. Please, let me hear her voice!” As I gained composure and moved into other rooms, I saw that my sister had arrived and we stood together at the glass door, gazing through memories into her sunroom and backyard. A booming thunder came out of nowhere, surprising us so much that we could only stare open-mouthed at each other and feel the hair stand on our necks; thunder-struck! You make what you will of it; but she and I know what we know.
I’ve always believed God answers prayer; otherwise I wouldn’t pray, I suppose. So, two sides to this coin since that day; was the thunder we heard on a clear day with no rain, wind nor clouds, the answer to my prayer? Did we hear from our mother one last time? Or, on the other hand, was God reminding me that He is all I need to hear? “Do not be concerned for your mother, child. She is with me and you need to take care of the life I have given you until you, too, may enjoy the rest she has found.” Actually now that I’ve said it, I realize the two are the same. I absolutely know my mother would want the Father to tell me those exact words, and if it is in His divine plan to allow the departed a request, she would most certainly call out to her children. And If you knew my mother, you know her calling would be thunderous! Her by-word was, no kidding, “thunder!”
I once thought growing older would make me more skeptical, but I am not nearly the skeptic I was in my younger days. This is not the first time God has spoken through nature, and my friends, it won’t be the last either. From the birds who sing their creator’s praise to the seeds erupting with life in springtime, the Lord speaks of His amazing grace and favor.
Some things I know for sure. It was already said in His word, that in Him we will find rest and peace, and the soul never dies. It is also said in scripture that God hears prayer. Also I know one day I will get to hear Christ call my name, as Mary did standing at His empty tomb. And you know, if we get to recognize each other, I’m going to ask, “Mama, you know that clap of thunder, back on June 17, well, …?”
“This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.” (I John 5:14 NIV)
Then I heard a voice from heaven saying to me, “Write: ‘Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.’ ” “Yes,” says the Spirit, “that they may rest from their labors, and their works follow them.”(Revelation 14:13 NKJV)
Simply stated, notabilia means ‘things worthy of note’. I came away Saturday from our local congregation’s ladies’ retreat with several items of notabilia. First, I will say it was a privilege to be there, and by that I mean, I’m privileged with the transportation and time to go; with some great friends to accompany me; with the opportunity of getting to know more about some sisters in Christ who were very nearly strangers to me; and lastly I got to hear notabilia from others as I sat back, relaxed, benefitting from their life stories, their words and their studies.
I must insert a fair warning here. I have not been able to keep this short, though I have forced myself to omit a great number of details I would love to have shared. But I don’t want to lose you before I make my intended points.
At first I was drawn the distance of an hour and a half drive just for the chance to see again the actual place of my obedience to the gospel of Jesus Christ, which was the West KY Youth Camp. It was in the swimming pool there, that I was immersed into Jesus’ body, in about 1966. I attended a total of three summers, two as a camper, with the director being the late Kenneth Hoover, and one as a junior counselor under the direction of the late Dennis and Florence Rogers. Though it was touching to see the old pavilion where my tears flowed, (or was that the off note I sang in How Great Thou Art?), it turned out not as interesting as what I found inside the building where the retreat was being held.
This large multipurpose building was a little rough around the edges, as it would be most difficult to have fine and fancy on donations alone. (Aren’t some of the biggest hearts found inside those who are a bit rough around the edges?) But it was SO accommodating! All the necessities were there: great space, comfortable chairs, tables, bathrooms, kitchen and lots of light. But, what made it work, was the people rather than the venue. Thorough planning was done, which is necessary, but it doesn’t carry itself out. The hard work carried it out, and that’s necessary, but impossible without the planning; which leaves intent, which for me, must’ve been God’s part. Being human, our intentions for being there were likely as varied as we were.
As an older member (some of these ‘ladies’ were young enough to be my grandchildren), I had to ask myself beforehand as to intent; why so far away, and why I wanted to get up at 5 AM on a Saturday. In all honesty, I even dabbled in the devil’s deceit, wondering if it was to weed out us older ladies; you know, the old stale routine. Shame on me. Oh, we were taken far away for sure – far from everyday monotony, rush, confines of the clock; to a place where we were encouraged to see through our spiritual eyes, our gifts and our places in the body of Christ. Unfortunately I was only able to attend Saturday, but what a blessing that day was.
My take away from Kelly Vaughn’s lesson on spiritual gifts (our talents or abilities) is they change. We change. So do our gifts. Changing does not render us useless. Perhaps our former abilities are those upon which to build. Maybe we do an about-face in another direction altogether. Why this hadn’t occurred to me before, I do not know. I didn’t see it. I felt that because I wasn’t doing the same things I had done like teaching littles, and then later, medical mission trips, I must be washed up; no real purpose in the work of the church. Then there I was enjoying Kelly’s excellent points about spiritual gifts, and BAM! she said things like older…changing…different…still have a place in the body. To quote her, “One’s gift, or function, can change, as life goes on”. There. Right there was my God given intent, my reason for wanting to be there. He knew, and I did not. This “seasoned” Christian needed to hear that our grace given gifts change; and we are still deemed useful, though probably in other functions. Self-centered, perhaps. But don’t pretend I am alone in this. We need to be needed. And the body, the church, has a great many needs to fill.
On the other hand, life was just settling me into the comfort of excusing myself from responsibilities. I now realize using age and lower energy levels as an excuse for sitting back, is not a reason to avoid all roles. As the scripture says (I Corinthians 12), if the whole body were hearing, where would be the sense of smell? There are women older than I and with family/health/obligation issues as well, and they are serving circles around me.
The second talk by Alisha Bohannon, still focused on finding our places in the unified body – the church – as found in Ephesians 4. There is diversity in gifts given by God, that we may function as a whole body. Alisha’s story added a sweetening, like dessert after a sumptuous meal from Kelly, reminding me that some have had to endure extreme hardship and tragedy to come to their “place”. Not that all who use their gifts must have come through great tragedy, as she pointed out. But for those who do suffer, there is the choice of whether to allow God to work through the situations to transport them into a better place, or to hold out in anger. This gave me pause; introspection, as to what circumstances in my own life had led me to opportunities or areas of service I either filled, or perhaps resisted. It was endearing to me to have these tender moments shared with us.
Our activities included artwork. Well “art” may be stretching it a bit, but it was quite enjoyable to play in paints again. It’s been a while or two since my kids, now in their 40’s, asked me to paint. I came away with a permanent record of favorite scriptures from these young women. I look forward to looking up each one to read and meditate on them.
The last item of notabilia I’ll mention is one of the stations in another activity (and all of them were valuable!) But at this one, the instructions were to write on a piece of paper what weights you are carrying. After looking at them and comparing them to a list of categories, along with scriptures related to each category, you were to give these weights and burdens to God. Symbolically, we were to then put the pieces of paper in the shredder provided. As I read what I’d written, I was a bit unsettled to realize these were in the categories of fear and doubt. Me, a seasoned Christian, having fear and doubt riding around on my already over-used back! I jotted down the verses to take home for fast reference when I am tempted to retrieve those burdens from God. In Isaiah 41:10 God tell us “Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” The second one is Proverbs 3:5-6 where we read, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.”
Other notable points I want to mention are as follows:
Young women whom I saw screaming their way into this world are now able to lead with their voices in song and scripture.
Everybody loves tacos.
Quiet women can raise the spiritual roof with devout prayer.
I do not need to use stensils again. Ever. No kidding. But I can still have fun with failure.
One generation learns from another; both are valuable.
Please do not consider this to be a complete list of things worthy of notice from the retreat. Nor is it anyone’s opinion but mine. My observations and take-aways are as particular to me as my own face. I incorporated no one else’s. Before I go, I think I have come to what I found most noteworthy. No tradition should be so tightly gripped that it squelches the flames and excitement of others as they grow and change in their spiritual life. Friends, I lived through watching one congregation dwindle down to bare bones and I never want to witness that again! I cannot speak for them, but my own observation attributed the decline to resistance. Resistance to fresh ideas between generations and reluctance to change. First, and foremost, the truth in God’s word never changes. Venues, methods, action however, all can and will change to serve and carry out what He has called us to do. The scriptures are filled with examples of women who altered their styles, made new connections and did new work as their lives changed. Naomi and Ruth, Esther, Rahab, Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Jesus to note a few.
It was the first time I had attended a church function where I was the oldest, and only two others near my age. I have to say I was disappointed. My prayer is that our inspirational times together will continue to thrive as they have in the past as we remember what we learned from those gone ahead of us, who made learning and serving fun and exciting as we grew. I will try not to be so unyielding to my own changes. I will be praying for unity in the Spirit; for every sister in Christ to find her gift and cherish it; and for all of every age to “Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another.” Romans 12:10
I told you this would be long. If I have misrepresented anything or anyone, I encourage correction. I am sorry I had to miss Mallory Bybee’s talk Friday. Thank you Ashley Benson for your planning; Leigh Ann Grady for the delicious goodies; the men, Jacob, Matt and Scott for the work of maneuvering tables, trash detail and providing food. I no doubt have left out others who made the time of refreshing/retreating possible but you are just as appreciated as if I knew your names.
I knew this week would be hard but I just didn’t dream how hard. The gaps in my broken heart haven’t healed and with the light God shines through them, there also seeps tears and doubts. I dreaded the anniversary of my little brother’s passing one year today, the fifth of January. Regrets are mean spiteful things; yet we hang onto them even though God tells us to let go and let Him heal. I worried about my little sister, my nieces and nephew, and I was concerned that I, myself, would hibernate to Kathy’s couch to sob into my grief. But life had other ideas. The sudden passing of the young and vibrant Mandi Murdock whose husband and his family have been a part of our life since, well, forever, has bolted me upright. My heart is so broken for the Murdock and Darnall families that it dried up my tears before they could fall for my own losses. Well, that is, other than the moments the radio was accidentally shifted to Spa station this morning and started playing “Before The Gates of Heaven” ( an instrumental, but wow, what a title!); then later “Last Date” was drifting off the piano keys of Kent Hewitt (I think) similar to Floyd Cramer. And that’s a whole other story I can’t get into now. So I called Janette DeWitt to check on her but instead, I just blubbered how I need not listen to the radio on edgy days and how heavy my heart was. She understood. So well. She listened. She stood in the gap where I had lost it, until God put it back. That’s what friends do.
Earlier today there was also the visitation and funeral for a lady who was the caregiver for her husband, a friend to many and seemed to always have a smile ready. She will be missed greatly by her family. Many were there to stand in the gap for Carolyn Hargrove’s loved ones and make the burden of goodbye somewhat lighter.
Tomorrow, as Kyle says his final goodbye for this life, to the other half of himself; as Luke tries to imagine life without his mother, as he so recently had to do with his big sister, I try myself to understand what we are supposed to think and do when we want so desperately to help, but cannot make sense of it. When Mandi was abruptly separated from her family, from earth ties, from lesson plans; when a young son grapples for understanding, along with grandparents who are trying to take in air that must feel stifling with palpable grief, we who know and love them want to help. We know full well words cannot explain our sorrow, nor heal. So we hover; we collectively stand in the gap – share the grief – stand even from our own homes in silent respect, kneeling in prayer, sitting in a search of God’s word for answers. That’s when it came to me; we hover, gathered together in spirit, surrounding these beautiful people to fill a gap; a gap created by life situations and one that the evil one will take advantage of if left open. Loved ones surround us, quite unlike the gap in the city’s wall of Ezekiel’s time where no man would stand in the gap, and so the city was not saved. We stand with each other, with this family, so that hopelessness cannot take over. We hold up the Holy Spirit, brought by our hearts filled with Him, to comfort and keep hope alive for better days and a future alive with hope for eternity. Filling the gaps where God is working through us to keep mourning souls from despair; so grief will not overtake them. My prayer Lord is, use us as we stand physically and in spirit surrounding the Murdock and Darnall families, knowing nothing of our own ability can get them through, but allowing Your power of hope and healing to be magnified through us as we stand in the gaps. Keep the circle of faithful friends strong, where faith, hope and love will be standing, and doubt, despair and darkness will be shut out. As You ready them to face the days ahead, though their gaps will never be filled, the love of the Lord and those standing in the gaps, will keep them safe. Amen.
Memories of Kenzie and of Mandi, and her presence with the Lord where her daughter is, will also stand in the gaps for all who knew and loved them. That’s how I see it. Love, Trisha
Not because it is luxuriously accommodating; no, that was the Inn on Biltmore. Simply because it is ours. If there is any comparison to be done, it is only to say, it is better, because it suits us just fine. I found our beautiful Burning Bush hailing from the lawn and Brandywine Maple leaves raining from tree to ground. Our red leaves are no brighter, but no less striking, than those of other areas. But these leaves are here; our leaves. That makes them more appreciated; no prettier, just more appreciated. The drizzle of rain here is nothing spectacular, but so welcome! While in North Carolina, we experienced their severe draught, with disappointment at seeing very little autumn color. Other than a splash here and there of dull yellow, there was a brilliant red oak, common name Scarlet oak. 
They rather enjoy the dry conditions and were strutting their stuff! Compared to expectations, the lack of color could be a letdown. But compared to the rest of the landscape, those oaks were outstanding! And more appreciated than ever. Otherwise, leaves clung to trees drained of color, and not all the brown fields were due to harvest. A cloud of dust followed a John Deere combine as the soybean crop was being harvested on the Biltmore Estate. Rows of sunflowers surrounding the soybeans hung their big brown faces toward the ground, gasping for a break from heat and dust. 
I still feel dizzy just thinking about it. While we slowed down to a new speed limit, there was no stalled traffic and we had opportunity to really see that part of the foothills. On life’s journey, try a detour; even if a forced one. With a different pace you may experience some amazing stuff. Assuredly, if we let God plan the route and we pack according to His instruction, we’ll be prepared for those unknowns – as much as is possible.
Trisha's Coffee Break 