Musings on Marriage

Category: Stories and Songs (Page 5 of 8)

Don’t Drop the Baton

Dear Daughters,

The Olympics are over (sigh).  So I guess I won’t be watching TV for another two years when the Winter Games return. As you know my typical TV viewing is rather rare, but I do love watching the Olympics.

One of my favorite events, next to gymnastics, is the women’s 4 x 100 relay, simply because of the history of team USA.

At Athens in 2004, the USA women’s team failed to pass the baton within the 20- meter exchange zone so was disqualified, no second chance.

During the 2008 Olympics in Beijing, both the USA men’s and women’s relay teams were plagued by baton drops and, of course, were disqualified yet again.

Finally, at the 2012 games in London the American women ran the relay beautifully and captured the Gold Medal.

The 2016 women’s 4 x 100 meter relay was fascinating.  In an unusual race, the Brazilians were disqualified when one of their runners ran into Allyson Felix’s lane during the baton exchange, causing the US to drop the baton and lose the prelims.

Amazingly, the U.S. was given a second chance to qualify for the finals, running the race all alone on the track.  Qualify they did, even though they had to run the finals in lane 1, the least desirable of all lanes.  But…they came back and won the Gold.

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Every one of those women on the earlier disqualified teams were champions in their own right: Marion Jones, Lauren Williams, Allyson Felix, English Gardener….  Yet, it is never one person alone who is able to win a relay.

The clincher is always the handoff of the baton.

All these interesting years of relays got me thinking about a talk that Christine Caine gave a few years back.

Christine mentioned the saddest verse in the Bible, Judges 2:10.  This verse was written at a time in Israeli history when Joshua had just died.  Joshua, the guy who led the army around Jericho and watched the walls fall down.  Joshua, who was in the minority to believe that God would lead them into the promised land.  Joshua, who saw the Red Sea part.  He watched the Jordan River stop flowing long enough to let thousands of Israelites walk through on dry land. He asked God to stop the sun from going down for an extra 24 hours – and it did.   Joshua, who ate the manna and the quail that God miraculously provided for his people for 40 years, saw water come out of a rock, who had an entire book of the Bible named after him, and the stories go on and on.

Yet, just after Joshua died, the next verse says:

After that whole generation had been gathered to their fathers, another generation grew up, who knew neither the Lord, nor what He had done for Israel.

Joshua was an amazing, incredible leader and man of God, but he and the others didn’t pass the baton on to the next generation, the reason this verse is so sad.

How could an entire generation immediately after Joshua, not know the Lord or what He had done for Israel?  They had been children when all those miracles happened, but perhaps it had just become normal to have manna on the ground every morning. It was an everyday occurrence to see victory after victory when Joshua was leading them.

Just like the sprinters in the Olympics, each one of those runners are amazing and incredible in their own right, but when they run a relay the most important act is passing the baton from one runner to the next.Jackfence

We can look at our own lives as a divine relay, not an individual sprint.  Each one of us is gifted and talented, but the most important detail is not only that we run our leg with integrity, but that we pass the baton of faith on to the next generation.  There can be no egos in a relay, unity is the bottom line.

When a sprinter enters the 20-meter hand off zone, the runner coming in must slow down because the runner going out is just accelerating.  We too, in the midst of our individual sprint must slow down and talk to the next generation about Jesus Christ and the larger story in which we live.

This life is not just about us.  We have Jesus and a whole crowd of witnesses cheering us on, encouraging us to model in our everyday lives selfless living, devoting our hearts to our Creator God, and learning to listen for His voice everyday of our life.

We are living in a much bigger story than our day to day frustrations, a bad hair day, annoyances of our husbands, worries about what people think about us.

Every action that puts others first, every prayer we pray for our enemies, every compassionate word of forgiveness that we speak, is working out God’s plan for the ages.  Our words and actions, especially to those younger than us, are how we pass the baton to future generations.

I admit that when I was younger and you girls were at home, I often let my preoccupation with teaching other children take precedence over my teaching to you about the kind and marvelous God we serve.

I sometimes think God has given me a second chance, just as the 4 x 100 relay team was granted another run in order to participate in the finals.

I pray that you will not make that same mistake as I.  Speak to those younger than you about the unending grace of Jesus Christ.  Tell your stories of God’s love and faithfulness in your own lives.  Let them know that even when we fail, He is strong and loves us still.  Let them know that when we think there is no forgiveness for our past, our God is the God of second chances (and third and fourth…)

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders, and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance, the race marked out for us.  Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who through the joy set before him, endured the cross, scorning its shame…so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. 

Hebrews 12:1-2

Love, Mom

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Blue Shirt

Dear Daughters,

A few months ago I read a short but powerful story entitled Blue ShirtWritten by Steve Spoelhof who is a runner of marathons, the story is about a race he ran last spring.  Apparently he got bogged down physically and mentally at the 21-25 mile range.  Close to exhaustion, he noticed there was a runner in a blue shirt who seemed to be keeping a good steady pace.  So he allowed the guy in the blue shirt to dictate his stride, and was eventually able to persevere and finish the race in good time.

After the race Steve noticed Blue Shirt walking around so he thanked him for being the encouragement that he was during miles 21-25.  Surprisingly, Blue Shirt immediately answered,  Thanks for pulling me through 17-21.  Steve was completely surprised that he could have been an encouragement to another when he was struggling so much himself.

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A few weeks ago a friend told me of a song about marriage by Casting Crowns and encouraged me to listen to it.  I pulled it up on Youtube, amazed by the simple yet profound lyrics of Broken Together.  It’s a song about marriage; honest about the challenges and heartbreaks that go along with those vows we all said so naively.

Words are easy to speak, faithfulness to those same vows in the hard times is not so easy.  The words from the chorus are:

The only way we’ll last forever is broken together. 

I cried when I heard those words sung because it once again reminded me that we are all so broken.  Sometimes I tend to think I am more whole than Dad, that I have to put up with more than he does, but then God quietly and patiently comes and shows me my own brokenness, failings, and pride.  I tearfully admit that I am fragile, needy and on some days, a royal mess .  I have tried to keep those words – broken together –  in the forefront of my mind.

Anniversary + Family 2016-4

Broken together.

It brings us back to a level playing field when I am often tempted to think that perhaps my level of thinking is a bit better than his.   Why is it that we are always so quick to think it’s our husbands’ fault when something is frustrating in our marriages?

Whenever a difference of opinions come up I am eager to edit the argument in my favor.  He was being insensitive to my opinion.  Of course I’m right, how could his even be considered?  How can he not see that mine is the better idea?Anniversary + Family 2016-18

So, you may be wondering why I paired this story and song together.  First of all, I want to thank each one of you – my daughters – for being a Blue Shirt to me during difficult times in my life, especially the last few years.  Many times your phone calls or visits, coming far to us in Idaho,  were exactly what I needed when things looked so dark in my life.  You have pulled me through, encouraged me to keep on going, listening to my heartbreaks and disappointments, while sharing with me your own griefs and victories as we have prayed for each other.

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Nobody is always the Blue Shirt; instead I think we become Blue Shirts to each other at different times in our lives. 

I have come to enjoy the song Broken Together in a bigger picture than simply marriage.  As members of a family we are also broken together.  We hurt each other, speak before we think, at times annoy each other, and yet many times  bring joy and happiness to one another.

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Because we are all broken we can never expect to get it right all the time, but to see us as broken and together is indeed a beautiful picture to me.

Love, Mom

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.  Psalm 147:3

 

 

 

 

Curious and curiouser

Dear Daughters,

The days with Grandpa and Grandma are getting curious and curiouser.

Yesterday I heard a timid knocking at my bedroom door.  It was Grandma telling me that Grandpa’s hand was bleeding; she didn’t know how to stop it and needed my help – quickly. I walked to the den with her where Grandpa was contentedly reading his book about American Indians.  I asked how his hand was doing and he showed me a small scratch with a few drops of blood on it.  Apparently he had been scratching Fluffy on the ears and was rewarded with a swipe of her paws.

Next, Grandma brought me to the bathroom where she had been trying to find some Bandaids.  Scattered across the sink were the contents of several drawers – adhesive tape, a roll of gauze, an Epipen, several Alberto V05 hairdressing tubes, Grandpa’s razors, liquid skin, and an ear/nose trimmer.  Because of her dementia she could not discern which of those articles would be helpful for Grandpa’s injury.  She loves him so much.  I looked at the collection of objects and chuckled in my mind, yet saddened that her ailing thoughts were incapable of choosing the correct item.

It’s so interesting, yet at times frustrating, to observe how a mind that used to be so sharp is now wandering, confused and weary.  I know she tries her hardest to do her best, yet the thoughts don’t connect like they used to. However, Grandma is always happy, often whistling, content, and for that I am grateful.

Every morning I help Grandma pick out her clothes and coach her as she dresses because it is becoming an overwhelming task on her own. One day I was looking for her long johns, which she wears 9 months out of the year, and noticed there were none.  So I searched in surrounding drawers, nothing there either.  I finally went to the dresser across the room and found them scattered among many other miscellaneous clothing items.  She tries to organize and help, but it sometimes turns into Hide and Seek/Search and Find, a game we play often.

Then it is Piano/Whistling Time.  With simply some written prompts Grandma can play any song on the list.  I must have over a hundred songs written down on 4 x 6 cards and she plays them all beautifully, artistically, fancy flourishes and arpeggios included.  She can still whistle many bird calls, learned as a child and performed professionaly.  Her dementia is nonexistent for a time, and she is queen of the piano once again.

Mums Piano

 

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On another day I had just put on the tea kettle to boil and left my mug with cold water sitting on the sink.  I had to go back to my bedroom to get my book and when I got back I was ready for a drink of water, but my mug was nowhere to be seen.  So I went again to my bedroom thinking I must have forgotten it there.  Not so.  Back to the kitchen again thinking I’m losing my mind.  Oh well, I figured I better just keep to the task at hand. I continued getting tea ready for Grandma and Grandpa.  Reaching into the cupboard I grabbed the first 3 mugs I saw to fill them with the now boiling water.  As I pulled the mugs out I was splashed in the face with cold water from one of them which, of course, was my missing mug filled with water.  Apparently Grandma, always the neat and tidy one, thought the mug belonged in the cupboard, not realizing it was full of water. It was quite surprising, yet refreshing….

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Grandma loves to help fold laundry.  Because her vision is so poor I give her towels, handkerchiefs, and other straight edged articles to fold which she does beautifully.  One day I gave her a kitchen dishcloth to put away, and said “It goes in the 3rd drawer down.”  I heard her go into the kitchen saying 1, 2, 3 (pause) 1, 2, 3 (pause) 1, 2, 3 (pause).  Later I noticed that the dishcloth was sitting alone on the sink.  The task must have been too baffling.

I’m slowly learning what is doable and what is just too complex for Grandma to do.  The interesting thing is that it changes from day to day.  I try to always keep alert and search for the right words to connect with what she can comprehend.

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Usually when she needs help she will call out “Help!” or “Hellooooo.”  But the other morning I heard her calling out “Ding-a-ling-a-ling.”  I walked to her room and teasingly asked if she was calling me a Ding-a-ling.

“Oh no,” she replied. “I was just being like a bell.”

Smile.

Last week Dad and I were able to get away for a few nights, so we went up to Sun Valley.  Mountains, gorgeous mountains, fresh air, evergreens and quaking aspens – my favorite tree as the wind through the leaves makes a delicate, quivering sound.  How the days flew quickly by, and too soon it was time to return home again.

As I walked through the door, Grandma was coming down the hall without her teeth or glasses, shuffling in her bathrobe.  I greeted her and gave her a hug.  “Who are you?” she asked, “Are you Willow?”

“No, it’s me, Shari,” I smiled.

Now I know our dog is friendly but I don’t ever remember Willow saying hello or giving hugs.  I tried not to be offended, but it was kind of an unusual welcome-home greeting. The categories in her mind are being confused, but at least it’s all in the same category of living creatures….

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A few weeks ago Grandma, Grandpa and I went to Twin Falls for a doctor’s appointment among several other stops.  We three were together the entire morning and got home just in time for lunch, so I went to drop my stuff off in my room.  I came back to the kitchen to start heating the soup and preparing sandwiches.  Grandma came into the kitchen as well, saw me and said, “So, how was your morning?”

“Good,” I answered.

“What did you do while we were gone?”

“Well, I actually was along with you this morning, I was your driver,” I replied.

“You’re kidding!” she exclaimed.

“Nope, it was me all along.”

Everything is new, everything is fresh, always a surprise.

“It’s OK, Carol, you’ll probably remember better tomorrow,” Grandpa often says after she exposes her fading short-term memory.

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Some days I find my time here a joy, other times it’s difficult – just like all of your lives.  How kind of Jesus to put us right where He wants us in order to learn to love.

Keep on keeping on….

Love, Mom

 

 

 

 

Clay, Sheep, Servants……

Dear Daughters,

Now that I have written twice about the metaphor of the Potter (God) and us (the clay), I became somewhat concerned about using that image only.  If we are just a mute, senseless piece of clay, it doesn’t sound terribly intriguing to trust our lives to a God who is only there to shape us into whatever He wants.

Potter

A few weeks ago I remembered a section in The Sacred Romance by John Eldredge, speaking about the many different ways in which God relates to us:

The Scriptures employ a wide scale of metaphors to capture the many facts of our relationship with God.  If you consider them in a sort of ascending order, there is a noticeable and breathtaking progression.SacredRomance (2)

At the bottom of the totem pole there is the image of God as the Potter and we the clay.  But that picture gives us as pots no communication, no ability to ask questions, express emotions or even have an opinion.  (Isaiah 64:8)

Mercifully, there are other comparisons in the Bible portraying the relationship between God and us as his created beings.  Moving up from the Potter and the clay is the image of The Good Shepherd. (Psalm 23) Because we are pictured as the sheep and Jesus the Shepherd, both beings are now at least living, and the image is one of the Shepherd keeping us safe, holding us in his arms, keeping away wolves and other predators.  It is comforting yet still not complete.

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Then there is the description where we are servants of God. (Matthew 25:21) Somehow many of us take on that role quickly and easily.  God tells us what to do and we obey, swiftly and without discussion.  Often we do and do and do, anything and everything that needs to be done – for the needy, for the hurting, for our families or the committees at church.  The focus is on doing work, and doing it well.  It too is a good image, yet incomplete.  Servants are valuable but are not able to get too close to the Master.  Yet many of us get stuck at this point.

Thankfully, God also calls us his children, and He our heavenly Father. (1 John 3:1) Children have a lot more intimacy with their parents than clay does with potters or shepherds with their sheep.  They also have a lot more freedom than servants.  Children can come into the house at any time, be a little annoying and misbehave, yet still be loved.

But even in the best parent-child relationship there is still something missing.  If we continue searching out our relationship with God, we amazingly find that Jesus calls us His friends.Kari (17)

photo by Kari Matthews

With you, my daughters, we have progressed from the mother-daughter relationship to one of friendship.  I count you among my most precious friends.  Yes, there is still the fact that I am your mother, and you my daughters but we have relationships that are honest, open and vulnerable.

I count it an incredible miracle that Jesus calls us His friends. (John 15:15) Many people in the world mock the fact it is possible that the Creator of the universe would converse with people, or that He even cares.  But the Bible tells us it is so, and I call Him my very best friend.

Yet, there is one other level the Bible speaks of – that we are God’s beloved. (Song of Songs 7:10) He is simply crazy about you and I. There are some dark, confusing days when I still struggle to believe, yet I know it’s true.  How He longs for us to talk to Him, to trust Him with our most difficult parts of life.  He loves to hear our honest hearts, our raw and aching emotions, our deepest joys.Darkblossoms

Our husbands are also our beloved, but they simply cannot be there for us all the time.  They are not capable of dealing with or understanding our inmost longings, desires, and joys.  We need our Creator who knows us better than we know ourselves, who calls us His beloved, to give us the confidence that we need so that we too can love as He does.

How I rejoice in the fact that day or night, He is there. Yes, He is shaping me like a potter shapes His clay.  Indeed, He protects me like a shepherd does his sheep.  I am His servant, His child and His friend, but best of all I am God’s beloved.

And so are you….

So, hold on loosely to this life.  There will be dark times, anguish, disappointments and times of perplexity.  But there will also be hope for the future, peace during turbulent  happenings – all because you are God’s beloved.

In this we can all greatly rejoice.

Love, Mom

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Tea Cup Story

Dear Daughters,

            After I watched Charlene spin her projects on the potter’s wheel several weeks ago, I was reminded of a simple story I received via email a few years back.  A dear friend sent it to me when I was at one of the lowest physical and emotional times of my life.  It arrived shortly after I had to quit my teaching job mid-year because of illness and I was at home day after day, lying on the couch alone most of the time and lamenting my lot in life.

The questions raged in my head: Why wasn’t God healing me so I could teach?  Didn’t He care about me anymore?  Had He forgotten that I still existed, hanging by a thread?  The verse `God grants sweet sleep to those He loves’ mocked me day after day as I was haunted with doubts and nights with little sleep.  I had so many questions, but all I heard from God was silence. 

The story from my friend goes like this:

There was a couple who used to go to England to shop in the beautiful antique stores.  They both liked antiques and pottery and especially teacups.  Spotting an exceptional cup they asked, “May we see that, we’ve never before seen a cup quite so beautiful.”  As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke:

You don’t understand.  I have not always been a teacup.  There was a time when I was just a lump of red clay.Pottery (5)

            My master took me and rolled me, pounded and patted me over and over and I yelled out, `Don’t do that, I don’t like it, let me alone.’ But he only smiled and gently said, `Not yet.’

            Then WHAM!  I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly I was spun around and around and around.  `Stop it, I’m getting so dizzy.  I’m going to be sick,’ I screamed.  But the master only nodded and said quietly, `Not yet.’Pottery (15)

            He spun me and poked and prodded and bent me out of shape to suit himself, and then…..and then he put me in the oven.  I never felt such heat.  I yelled and knocked and pounded at the door.  `Help!  Get me out of here!’  I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook his head from side to side.  `Not yet.’

            When I thought I couldn’t bear it another minute, the door opened.  He carefully took me out and put me on the shelf, and I began to cool.  Oh, that felt so good.  `Ah, this is much better,’ I thought.  But, after I cooled he picked me up and brushed and painted me all over.  The fumes were horrible, I thought I would gag.  `Oh please, stop it, stop it!’ I cried.  He only shook his head and said, `Not yet.’Pottery (11)

            Then suddenly he put me back into the oven.  Only it was not like the first one.  This was twice as hot and I knew I would just suffocate.  I begged, I pleaded, I screamed.  I cried.  I was convinced I would never make it.  I was ready to give up.  Just then the door opened and he took me out and again placed me on the shelf where I cooled and waited and waited, wondering `What’s he going to do to me next?’  An hour later he handed me a mirror and said, `Look at yourself.’  And I did.  I said, `That’s not me; that couldn’t be me.  It’s beautiful, I’m beautiful!’teacup (2)

            Quietly he spoke, `I want you to remember.’  Then he said, `I know it hurt to be rolled and pounded and patted, but had I just left you alone, you’d have dried up.teacup  I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped you would have crumbled.  I know it hurt and it was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn’t put you there you would have cracked.  I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn’t done that, you never would have hardened.  You would not have had any color in your life.  If I hadn’t put you back in that second oven you wouldn’t have survived for long because the hardness would not have held.  Now you are a finished product. Now you are what I had in mind when I first began with you.’Teacup (3)

            Somehow that little story brought me peace.  I could maybe, possibly, believe that things would not always be this hard, life would get better.  kari (25)

I love to read stories, funny stories, fantasy stories, sad stories, real life stories.  The Color of Grace by Bethany Williams is a real life story I read recently about the brokenness, agony and depression she survived after a painful divorce.  After years of therapy, healing, and counseling, Bethany has become the founder of Exile International, a ministry devoted to former child soldiers and children orphaned by war in Africa.

The stories of these children are brutal, beyond my comprehension – rape, witnessing their families being murdered, sometimes being forced to do the dastardly deeds themselves.  But the hope, the joy in eyes that were once dark with hopelessness, the dancing and laughter that is the result of new life they have received from Jesus Christ, is simply astounding.  There is no longer bitterness or darkness.  No blaming God for their lives of horror.  In Bethany’s words;

…in witnessing their [the children’s] strength, I realized in our American quest for comfort, our resilience muscle has been weakened.  In our desire to have things “quick and easy,” we have atrophied our ability to thrive and survive.  So we now have quick, and we now have easy, but we have less strength to cope with life when it becomes difficult. 

In our quest for comfort, we have weakened our ability to be uncomfortable.  Funny how we think we are the strong ones.  I have found the strong ones.  I am surrounded by them. Grace (2)

            My pain is real pain, your pain is real pain.  But there is a certain beauty that comes from sitting close to and parking with our pain.  When we run from it we fail to see what God is working through it.  But if we embrace it, knowing that God is walking with us it can become a beautiful thing.

Every one of us has pain, whether it be a broken relationship, a broken body or a feeble mind, secrets we keep out of fear, grief over death.  Whatever it is, know that your Heavenly Father catches your tears, weeps with you.  He will not remove all pain, but he has promised to walk with us giving us his peace.

There are many days I would love to have physical healing, I have prayed for it for years.  My dream is to be able to walk a mile.  Apparently God has something better in mind for now, maybe to show His strength in my weakness.  Whatever the case, I will trust Him to do what He deems best.  I encourage you to trust Him with your pain as well.

Love, Mom

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Throwing Pottery

Dear Daughters,

I’ll be throwing pottery Friday if you want to come and watch, said the text from your cousin Charlene last week.

Throwing pottery?  I knew she was a potter, but had not heard that term before.  At any rate I decided to go and see her work as a novice.

So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel.  But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands…….Jeremiah 18:3

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When I arrived she was working on a partially finished bowl and had just a few finishing touches before it would be ready for the kiln.  Upside down on the wheel, she carefully trimmed away some excess clay so the bowl would be just right.  She was careful, yet still some chunks broke loose and the beautifully crafted rim she had molded was marred.  Charlene simply chuckled and said,

Well, sometimes we think we are this, but then we are that.

She threw the broken chunks into a nearby 5-gallon blue bucket, not even lamenting about the change of plans, but remarked,

Nothing is wasted.  All the mistakes just go into this bucket and we use them for a later project.

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Immediately I thought about Romans 8:28 “…and we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose…”  How often have I mourned and become angry about things that have happened to me, how I have not embraced the pain, the grief and the hurt that have come.  I have simply wanted the agony to go away.  I could see no point except pain in what was happening, and who wants that?

But God, our perfect Potter, wastes nothing.  He saves the pain for a later project.  Sometimes we think we are one thing, but God has another plan, a better plan.  So a few chips get knocked off and He continues to do his good work.

Charlene used lots of different tools but her favorite was a little 89-cent sponge from the grocery store.  A simple tool, but so effective.  With it she could smooth the clay or make thin little lines all around the pot.  She spoke,

Any good tool has many purposes.

Pottery

Just think of all the tools God uses on you – your husband, your children, annoying workers at the office, rude neighbors and apartment dwellers, slow thinkers and movers.  Every one of them has a purpose, to help mold us to become more patient, kind, generous, less boastful, more humble – more like Jesus.

After the first pot was finished Charlene started another vase beginning with a single lump of clay.  She threw it on the blue plastic bat which was attached to the wheel head.  It didn’t stick the first time so she threw it again, adhering well.  But there it was on the edge of the bat.  Even I knew that this was not going to work.  So a few more times of throwing and it landed, with a little encouragement, exactly in the center.

Centering is everything.

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Yep, that sure sounds like real life.  If I don’t center myself on Jesus first thing in the morning, my day is not going to go well.  I will find myself more critical, impatient, and annoyed.  Just this morning I woke late, so jumped out of bed without even a word to Jesus and started my morning routine.  At breakfast I snapped at a comment Dad had made, which typically happens less than it used to.  Then I remembered, Oh yeah, I never asked for strength and help this morning, I just tried doing things in my own strength, which isn’t much these days.

As I watched that ugly lump of clay spin around on the potter’s wheel, it slowly took shape in the loving, wedging, nestling hands of Charlene.  Watching her hover around the lump of clay I could see her joy in her work, her love for the art, and her vision for what was going to appear.  Every now and again she would stop and center the lump a little better because it would tend to stray.  She said,

Do not let the clay tell you what to do; it will become a very naughty toddler. This pot seems to have an attitude so I’ll have to center it again.

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How often do I tell Jesus I don’t really like how my life is shaping up?  I sometimes give him some ideas which I think would be much better: If you could just make things easier, less invasive, more predictable, yada yada.  Really? I’m trying to tell the genius creator of the universe that I have a better plan?  Perhaps I need to work on centering myself so I become more submissive, more obedient, trusting and accepting of what comes my way, knowing that God’s ways are ultimately the best. Giving thanks for the difficult stuff.

The potter is the hero of the story.

She is the one who forms, shapes and creates beauty with a seemingly useless ugly lump of clay.  I think we (I know for sure I) want to be the hero and tend to put ourselves in a far too important role at times.  But we must keep in mind always that Jesus is the Hero, He is the creator and sustainer of all things.  Everything He does is good and will be used someday in His grand story.

I left that day before Charlene fired the pots in the kiln, however, I did learn that it heats up to 1800 degrees, and the pottery is cooked not once but twice.  Once after the shaping, another time after the glaze is applied.  I believe we as people go through the fire as well, our lives heat up almost beyond bearable, but at just the right time we are taken out and left to cool.  How else can we become strong and durable?  It certainly doesn’t happen when our life is sweet and cushy as marshmallows.

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Making pottery is a process, and I now understand why handmade pottery is expensive.  It gave me a whole new appreciation for the work Charlene does and the work, care and patience God has for me.  Let Him have His way with you, my dear daughters, and you too will become beautiful in the hands of the Potter.

Pottery (12)

Love, Mom

 

 

 

 

 

The Extra Puzzle Piece

Dear Daughters,

Last year I bought a beautiful puzzle for Grandma, a picture of a little girl playing the piano.  After we completed it we noticed there was one lonely piece left over.  It was an exact duplicate of another piece, so someone somewhere must have wondered why they were lacking one.

I have had that extra puzzle piece taped to my bedroom wall for the last year thinking there must be something significant about an extra piece of a puzzle.Puzzle

Sometimes I feel like an extra puzzle piece, like I just don’t fit in, like the puzzle is finished and I’m on the outside looking in.Puzzle (2)

I remember being at a wedding reception where there was open seating – for me it is the horror of no pre-planned places to sit, so one has to move around from table to table trying to find a place to belong.  This was during a time when I was extremely fragile emotionally because of life during that season.  Dad and I went to one table full of laughter and smiles, knowing some people there, but they said the empty places were being saved for someone else.  So we traveled on to another but there too, reserved for others.  Finally at the fourth table there was room, but by that time I was nearly in tears so we went through the buffet line, wrapped up our meals and left.  I think Dad gave some excuse that I wasn’t feeling well.  True Story.

Do you ever feel like that, thinking that you are the only one struggling, the only person who doesn’t have it all together, crying on the inside but forcing a smile on the outside while everyone around you seems to be happily traversing through life?

Many years ago I remember looking at other couples thinking they must have such carefree marriages, simply because they were physically attractive or so personable to everyone.  Then I started getting to know some of these beautiful people, talking honestly with them, and found out that heartaches occur in every marriage, rich or poor, glamorous or not.  There are no exceptions.Daisy

A few weeks ago Saeed Abedini, a prisoner in Iran for over 3 years, was finally released.  Since he and his wife, Nagmeh, lived in Boise, Idaho, there was lots of publicity in our area, public prayers and rallies for his release.  His wife was an avid participant in many rallies for several years.  Many people were shocked when five days after his release last month, Nagmeh filed for legal separation from her husband.  Apparently there has been abuse in the marriage for years, and she finally became open and honest about it.  I’m praying that the abuse will be dealt with, repentance and forgiveness will become a reality.  But I remember thinking in the past that their marriage must be ideal because they’re a missionary couple.

I don’t care how good couples or singles look at the party, church, or family gathering, what goes on behind closed doors can be another story.

We were created for Eden and when we don’t experience perfection, or near to it, we grow frustrated and upset.  There is a reason we are disappointed.  God set eternity and perfection in our hearts and when it doesn’t happen we become downright angry.

God has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the hearts of men…  (Ecclesiastes  3:11)

Then we go on Facebook and see all the smiling faces, beautiful family pictures and perfect Pinterest ideals.  But I know enough of the back stories of those photos to realize these pictures do not portray reality.  They simply show a moment in time when there are smiles for the camera.  What words were said and attitudes displayed before and after the camera shutter closed are not revealed, but we know those smiles do not continue through all moments of every day.  Unfortunately, pictures seem to make us think they do.Family

Life is never going to be like our dreams, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t good.

In his book Bold Love, Dan Allender asks the questions:

Do I live for heaven?

or

Do I live demanding that life be like heaven?

The way we answer those questions will have a great deal to do with our attitude in life.

If we live for heaven, understanding that….

 

This world is not my home, I’m just passing through

My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue

The angels beckon me from Heaven’s open door

And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore

 

….then we can accept imperfections, disruptions, heartache, or feeling like a piece outside the puzzle. If we believe that this life on earth is temporary and we have an eternity before us, we will trust God with the disappointments and sorrows of our days. We will fight for good and against evil, and give thanks for the good gifts God so liberally gives, joyfully looking toward the time when there will be no tears.

But if we live demanding that life be like heaven, we will be forever disgruntled, blaming others for our unhappiness, becoming crabby and selfish. We need to be honest about our disappointments and heartache, knowing that in this world we will have trouble, but also that Jesus is our comfort and consolation in a world gone senseless.

There are many aspects of life that I would not have chosen – strained relationships, suicide, fatigue, dementia, insomnia, death, distance from those I love, arguments – yet without those experiences I would not have needed Jesus. I would not have been able to learn to love.

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I’m certain every one of you have at times felt like that extra puzzle piece, simply because this is a fragmented world. But if we can learn to be content with the partial, remembering that this life isn’t supposed to be carefree and stress-free, we can perhaps live without clenched fists and anxious thoughts. Jesus knew our lives would be challenging so that we would lean into him and admit our need for a Savior. He wants us to grow up, to mature and become more like him. And of course there is no better way to grow up than to go through some tough perplexing problems that we cannot figure out on our own.Puzzle (2)

So be honest about your less than perfect marriage, your sometimes not obedient or respectful children, and invite Jesus into your mess. Ask him for strength to love, for perseverance to carry on, for faith to put your feet on the floor in the morning. Be thankful for the partial, the good in the darkness, and the hope for the future.

Love, Mom

 

Major & Minor

Dear Daughters,

As I am pondering the year that is almost complete, I started recalling all the Major as well as the Minor themes I have experienced during the year. As you know my favorite current author is John Eldredge, from whom I have borrowed the idea of Major and Minor themes.

Of course one of the Major themes of my year is God’s faithfulness and goodness. The sun came up every day, although we couldn’t always see it.  One of life’s ultimate comforts is simply knowing that the sun is still shining above the clouds. JeromeClouds

God gave strength for everything I needed to do – not all that I wanted to do – but enough for each day. He provided strength to wash both clothes and dishes, make meals, to answer many questions, find things that have been lost, picking hundreds of pounds of delicious garden produce, preserve many of those pounds, capture beauty in my camera, write in my gratitude journal, visit with relatives and friends.

Another major theme is that I have begun to sing again. For months I had only enough strength to do work that needed to be done.  But now I am able to have enough energy to both play the piano and sing.  It is such a joy to listen to Grandma play piano for a half hour every day, then take my turn to do the same.

Shortly after we moved to Idaho I asked God for a friend. We have many wonderful relatives in the area, but I asked for a friend close by.  I was thinking of someone my age so we could have lots in common.  Having moved many times in my life I have found that it is difficult to break into a community as a newcomer because many people already have their circle of friends, and circles don’t often easily open.

God surprised me and brought a friend who was also new to the area. Ruth, a young mother, her husband and 2-year­old son Jacob moved from Montana to live across the street from us a few months after we had moved in.  Since then we have shared stories of our lives, recipes, laughter, hard as well as joyful times in our families, goods from our gardens, singing and playing piano together, and friendship.Icetree

A final Major theme is that of Dad and I learning to serve Grandma and Grandpa together. At the beginning of our time here we were not sure of our specific roles, but as we prayed together for wisdom and walked through each day, we learned how to help but not overstep our boundaries.  Yes, there have been misunderstandings, disagreements, and times of forgiveness, but we are becoming comfortable with our roles and have learned to be grateful for one another and the work that is divided between us.Red (3)

Of course there are the Minor themes that always come along in life as well, whether we invite them or not. One Minor theme is the continued chronic insomnia that I have experienced for the past 15 years.  There were some days, after having several 4 and 5 hour nights, that I simply asked God to take me home if He would not grant me the sleep that I so desperately needed.  I had sought help from many, but no one had answers.  In the midst of the darkness of those days and verbalizing my anguish to Dad, he would simply sit and listen at my bedside as I cried.  Because my cries and laments were shared, I was able to go on for yet one more day.

Then I founded someone in our little town who has given me hope once again. I have had many 8 hour nights, and actually can’t remember the last time I slept only 4 hours.  Zed has found what we think is the root of the problem and I am slowly getting stronger day by day.  Maybe…..soon I will have more endurance and energy.Lord

Dying to self is certainly a Minor theme, but so necessary in our growth as Christ followers. When we moved to Idaho I thought I had died to myself, but God shows me new ways every day as we care for Grandpa and Grandma, how to continually find joy in serving and caring in many small ways, but that enrich all of our lives.

Another Minor theme, mixed with a Major has been talking to you, my daughters, about your dreams, your hopes, your disappointments and your sorrows. All of us have had struggles in our marriages this year.  Things will be well for a time, and then just like the proverbial layers of onion, another weakness shows up which needs to be dealt with.  The Enemy is always out to find our weaknesses and divide us from our husbands, to see the worst in them – and some days that is not at all difficult.

But throughout the fight for love, God has caused each one of you to grow stronger. Stronger in love, forgiveness, searching hard for beauty, learning to cast your cares and worries on Jesus.  I can see your splendor growing and the amazing grace that you have received from God and have graciously given to your families.Forgive

I encourage you to look back for the Major and Minor themes in your own lives this year. I think there will be many in each category.  Be still and thank God for both themes, knowing that He is walking with you every day.  We have prayed for one another and will continue to do so.  In that I rejoice.

Love, Mom

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.  3 John 4

 

 

 

 

 

Joy

Dear Daughters,

Last night we hosted a sing-along at our home. We invited people to simply come and join us in sharing some Christmas music.  We had local friends, dark-skinned and light, with their guitar and ukulele, a few relatives, our neighbors down the lane – about 20 in all – a good variety of old friends and new.  Grandma and I have been practicing for weeks our Christmas songs on the piano.  Sometimes Grandma morphs from Go, Tell it On the Mountain into Jesus Loves the Little Children; other times she plays the verse of one song flowing seamlessly into the chorus of another, but most of the time is able to end on the same song she started. Snowtree

There were no gifts given except that of sharing music together. After we caroled many Christmas songs, Susan and her friends taught us a new song:

Nothing behind, nothing before, the steps of faith,

Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.

We listened to our friends sing the song then joined along with them. After that we sang it as a 3-part round.  It was beautiful as we all sang our parts, hearing the lovely harmony weaving in and out.  Next Susan asked us if we had any stories of our walks of faith that we were willing to share with the group.  We heard some stories of people coming to Idaho from New York, New Zealand, Michigan, California, Arizona, the Netherlands – all of us stepping out in faith, going where God had called us to go.  All of us had journeyed many miles, sometimes not knowing what lay before us, but simply being obedient to God’s call on our lives. Window

I knew the stories of many of these people and the suffering they have endured. Yet here we were, singing with joy on our faces and in our hearts, thankful for our Savior Jesus Christ and the Rock he has been in all of our lives.

It’s interesting that the people who have been through hard things in life often seem to be the most joyful. I had heard the quote by Richard Nixon:

Only if you have been in the deepest valley, can you ever know how magnificent it is to be on the highest mountain,

and I have found that it’s true. Of course you have to pin that beast of bitterness and ingratitude to the floor, give thanks and fight for joy, it doesn’t just fall on you.  There are those who have suffered and choose to stay in that prison of bondage.  But the good news that Jesus brought to us thousands of years ago is that there is freedom – freedom from hurt, abuse, neglect, and broken hearts. Joy2

My friend, Marcia, posted the following prayer a while back and I think it’s profoundly beautiful. It’s not your typical prayer of blessing, but a prayer that comes from knowing real blessings can only come through hardship, adversity and the perseverance that results.

I pray this prayer for each of you, my daughters, because I know this is a prayer that God will answer in a most creative way for each of you. I am certain He will answer in His exquisite wisdom and timing.

A Franciscan Benediction

May God bless us with discomfort

At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships

So that we may live from deep within our hearts.

May God bless us with anger

At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of God’s creations

So that we may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless us with tears

To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war,

So that we may reach out our hands to comfort them and

To turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless us with just enough foolishness

To believe that we can make a difference in the world,

So that we can do what others claim cannot be done:

To bring justice and kindness to all our children and all our neighbors who are poor.

Amen.

Even though we will be far from all of you this Christmas, you are closer than ever in my heart, mind and soul. I will miss you and your families greatly, but know that God will bless you now and in the years to come…until we meet again.

Love, MomSnow (2)

Family Trees

 

Dear Daughters,

            As you know, we have relatives of whom we are proud and those we would rather keep hidden.  Amazingly, Jesus had the same type of family tree except that he wasn’t ashamed of them.  I find it fascinating that before the birth of Jesus is ever mentioned in the book of Matthew, we find a rather lengthy, boring to most, genealogy.  God’s history with His people has always been one of openness.  There have never been any secrets with Him

In a classic Jewish genealogy women were not included, they were not deemed important enough.  Remarkably in Jesus’ there were four women included.  Not your good, upright and noble women, but women of shame.  He was not consumed with the purity of His pedigree, but in the extreme value of every person on that list.  There was Tamar, who disguised herself as a prostitute to trick her father-in-law into sleeping with her as a way of seeking justice from him, Rahab a prostitute from Jericho, Ruth, a foreigner, and Mary with an unplanned pregnancy.Barn

In Jesus’ lifetime a person’s genealogy was similar to our resumes today.  It gave a person validation, credentials.  As in any resume, we all tend to expand on our best accomplishments and omit our worst failures.  The ancients would typically feature ancestors who would hold them in high esteem, but leave out those of whom they were ashamed.  Herod the Great, a King of long ago, destroyed his genealogy because he found it too embarrassing.  But Jesus included these women in His because in God’s eyes there are no little people, no one who is below the grace of God, no one of whom to be ashamed.

Today I was looking through the homemade book My Life written by your great-grandma Vandermeer.  It is a weighty book of genealogy that she spent decades compiling.  The cover is thick heavy leather which she personally handcrafted.  I still remember all her leather tools in a wooden box, watching her design the intricate artwork.Mylife

I must admit that it was both interesting and embarrassing to read a bit of my heritage.  In our long ago family there were pioneers who came to the West in wagon trains, a prince, a woman who poisoned her husband at lunch, a poet, alcoholics, a missionary, a Singer Sewing Machine salesman, those who committed suicide – basically the typical menagerie that every family inherits.Greatestgift

The coming of Christ was right through families of messed-up monarchs and battling brothers, through affairs and adultery and more than a feud or two, through skeletons in closets and cheaters at tables.  It was in that time of prophets and kings, the time of Mary and Joseph, that men were in genealogies and women were invisible.  But for Jesus, women had names and stories and lives that mattered.

             ~ Ann Voskamp

 

The family tree of Jesus includes women who felt like outsiders, women who had been hopeless, who felt invisible and forgotten, women who had been close to giving up on life, those who were unappreciated and dismissed.  You know of anyone who’s ever felt like that?

I remember when I was 16 and first driving by myself, wondering if cars would see me because I often felt invisible.  At times I would be amazed that people would wait for me to make a turn before they drove on.  I know that sounds silly, but that was a time in my life that I did not feel important or even visible.  I imagine the fact that I was tall, skinny and awkward, plenty of zits, braces and shy had something to do with it.

The centuries seem not to have changed much for women.  Today many of us feel the same, our society lauding women more for their bodies and outward beauty than their hearts and those deep desires within.

Last month Christie Hefner was honored by the YWCA with the outstanding leader Trailblazer’s Award.  Somehow I found it interesting that she would receive such a prestigious award when most of her life has been promoting the beauty of other women’s naked bodies, seemingly not so concerned with the value of the hopes and dreams of their hearts.

Jesus attracted prostitutes, but not to use them.  He saw their longing to be known and loved for who they were, not for what they looked like.  He valued them, gave them hope, forgiveness and a restored life.

Tamar and Rahab had both been used by men over many years.  Tamar, who had been lied to and tricked by her father-in-law decided to take justice in her own hands and was able to convict him for his wrong.  Rahab, living in a godless place with a godless past, believed in the God of the Jews around her and eventually became the Great-grandmother of the great King David.Bouquet (2)

Other women mentioned in Jesus’ lineage were humble women, those who lived their lives doing the tedious things.  In the middle of this boring genealogy we have wonderful stories of God’s grace breaking into shamed women.  Ruth, a woman whose husband had died, decided to help out her mother-in-law, who had also lost her husband.  She gleaned in the fields of wheat and was noticed by the richest guy in town, who just happened to marry her.  She became King David’s grandmother.

Mary, the mother of Jesus was also considered boring by today’s standards, doing the humble things in life that a typical Jewish teenager did – cook meals, wash the laundry, care for younger children, clean house – until the day an angel came to her, saying that she would become the mother of the Messiah.  Now this sounds quite exciting until you think of what the village people might have said.  “Sure, the Holy Spirit made you pregnant?  Really?  You think we’re going to believe that, you whore.  You know what happens to girls who get pregnant when they’re not married.”  Mary was shamed, her life totally disrupted as she was going about her predictable life.Nativity

God disrupts our lives as well.  We may have a plan, but God’s is usually different – and always better.  We all play an important part of a much larger story.  Tamar, Ruth, Rahab, and Mary were all outcasts at one time or another, rejected, ridiculed, used, and seemingly forgotten.  But God in His amazing mercy brought each of these women into an important part of His Story.  He is a specialist at rewarding the humble, raising up the rejected.

Jesus is delighted when each of us does our job faithfully, carefully and humbly.  Every repetitive task we perform with gratitude to God is accepted as an offering, an honoring of our Savior.  Every diaper we change, each question we answer with kindness, the clients we treat with respect, each meal we prepare, every word of encouragement we speak reflects the love of Jesus.

When we love our husbands, God is pleased.  When we forgive and persevere when we would rather leave, God is pleased.  He loves faithfulness and will reward it in His time.  When we read all the stories of how God loves women, we know that His love for us is the same.  Our small stories of humble lives are being worked into His grand story and one day we shall see the whole story and marvel.Fallflowers

Lean on Him.  Trust Him.

Love, Mom

 

 

 

 

 

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