Branches and Trees

Musings on Marriage

Page 12 of 20

Ten Thousand Gifts

November 21, 2017 / / 4 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Six years ago I read the book One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. The book was birthed because of a challenge from Ann’s friend to list 1,000 gifts that God had given her, gifts she already had.  Gifts that were around her every day, but she had forgotten to see.  What started as a difficult hunt for gifts turned out to be the most joy-filled assignment Ann had ever received.  In counting gifts –  blessings – she was able to turn from guilt, regrets and shame, while she watched her life transform into gratitude, delight and joy.

As you remember, I also took the challenge to count gifts, naming them one by one.  At the beginning it was easy, fun, and continually kept me on a treasure hunt.  But as my health disintegrated and I had to quit my teaching job, it became more and more difficult to list those gifts because I saw so little for which to be thankful.

Thankfully, Ann also wrote about the Hard Eucharisteo  – (the Greek word for giving thanks) when gratitude is difficult, when life doesn’t go your way, when you can’t understand the evil all around and within you.  During these past six years I have taken breaks from my gratitude journal, but out of necessity started writing again, thanking God for the beautiful but also – with tears – for the darkness, the uncertainty, and the disappointment I was facing.

I have filled six journals over the past six years, over 10,000 spaces filled with gifts from God.  There were days, for months at a time, I didn’t write, couldn’t write – or was it that I refused to be thankful for my heartache on some of those darkest days?  That I refused to believe God loved me and was walking with me through those times?

There were times in the past when I have begged God to let me die, nights when I was tempted to swallow down the whole bottle of Ambien because of the frustration of insomnia during the night and the relentless fatigue during the day.

Thankfully, God said no to my prayer for my life to end.  Through it all Dad was there to stay with me, listen to my wails, sometimes simply sit in silence and love me even though I seemed so unlovable and saw no reason for my continued existence.  His faithfulness and kindness helped to carry me through the months, and later the years of physical weakness.

Eventually, I started giving thanks once again, thankful I could still make meals, wash clothes, see and enjoy beautiful pumpkins in the field, geese flying through the sky, the laughter of children, the encouragement from friends and you – my daughters.

Later though I would dive again into the days filled with shadows, forget to give thanks, the gratitude journal diving to the bottom of my book pile, neither seen nor remembered.

Some days I would read the Psalms, and on the dark days one of my favorites was Psalm 13.  King David, the writer of this and many Psalms was brutally honest with his emotions.  He starts out by saying

How long, O Lord?

Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?…

Yep, that’s exactly how I felt – forgotten and hidden from God.  I had prayed for healing, but it didn’t come.  Day after day I lay on the couch, transferring to bed when darkness fell.  David continues:

…How long must I wrestle with my thoughts,

and every day have sorrow in my heart?

Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death….

 It was comforting for me to know that David, a man after God’s own heart, was also depressed and discouraged at times.  And the amazing part is that God ordained David’s thoughts and emotions to be written, saved and recorded for generations later with which to identify.

During those dark days I loved those verses, feeling quite righteous in my feelings of being forgotten, neglected and abandoned by God.  I could wallow in my pity, figuring that God wouldn’t expect much from me simply because I seemed to be off His radar.

But now and again, I would reluctantly read the last few verses of that Psalm:

…but I trust in your unfailing love;

my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord, for He has been good to me.

There were times I certainly didn’t trust, rejoice or sing because I didn’t believe He had been good to me, I believed the lie that He no longer cared.  I wondered how David could end up singing and trusting even though he had felt abandoned as well.  But if I was going to be honest and believe that the Bible is indeed true, I needed to finish reading that psalm, not just camp out on the verses about gloom and feelings of despair.

I found that if I spoke or sang those words out loud, hope would emerge again.  I would pull out my journal and scribble a few more lines of gratitude.  Joy would multiply – oh so slowly – but it started and I could see the possibility of a future that was good even though it didn’t happen according to my plans.

Here I am today, much better than what I was, yet still not where I would like to be.  Oh well, I will continue to trust in His unfailing love no matter what lies ahead of me.  I have seen His faithfulness in the past and will continue to trust Him for the future.

When your days are dark – sing, perhaps even weep through tears of grief – give thanks and know that He will never leave you nor forsake you.

And that is enough.

Love, Mom

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Blessing of Thorns

November 7, 2017 / / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

My friend gave me a copy of this story a few months ago, so thought I would share it with you:

Sandra felt as low as the heels of her shoes as she pushed against a November gust and the florist shop door.  Her life had been easy, like a spring breeze.  Then in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor automobile accident stole that from her.

During this Thanksgiving week she would have delivered a son.  She grieved over her loss.  As if that weren’t  enough, her husband’s company threatened a transfer. Then her sister, those holiday visit she coveted, called saying she could not come for the holiday.

Sandra’s friend infuriated her by suggesting her grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer.  

She has no idea what I’m feeling, thought Sandra with a shudder.

Thanksgiving?  Thankful for what?  She wondered.  For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her?  For an airbag that saved her life but took that of her child?

Good afternoon, can I help you?  The shop clerk’s approach startled her.

I need an arrangement, stammered Sandra.

For Thanksgiving?  Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the Thanksgiving Special? asked the shop clerk.  I’m convinced that flowers tell stories, she continued.  Are you looking for something that conveys gratitude this thanksgiving?

Not exactly! Sandra blurted out. In the last five months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.

Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the shop clerk said, I have the perfect arrangement for you.

Just then the shop door’s small bell rang, and the clerk said Hi Barbara!  let me get your order.

She politely excused herself and walked toward a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an arrangement of greenery, bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses.  Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped: there were no flowers.

Want this in a box? Asked the clerk.

Sandra watched for the customer’s response.  Was this a joke?  Who would want rose stems with no flowers?  She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed.

Yes please, Barbara replied with an appreciative smile. You’d think that after three years of getting the special, I wouldn’t be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again, she said as she gently tapped her chest. And she left with her order.

Uh, stammered Sandra, that lady just left with uh…., she just left with no flowers!

Right, said the clerk, I cut off the flowers.  That’s the Special.  I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet.

Oh, come on, you can’t tell me someone is willing to pay for that! exclaimed Sandra.

Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling much like you feel today, explained the clerk.  She thought she had very little to be thankful for.  She had lost her father to cancer, the family business was failing, her son was into drugs, and she was facing major surgery. 

That same year I had lost my husband, continued the clerk, and for the first time in my life, had just spent the holidays alone.  I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow any travel.

So what did you do? asked Sandra.

I learned to be thankful for thorns, answered the clerk quietly.

I’ve always thanked God for the good things in my life and never questioned the good things that happened to me, but when bad stuff hit, did I ever ask questions.  It took time for me to learn that dark times are important. I have always enjoyed the flowers of life, but it took thorns to show me the beauty of God’s comfort. You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we’re afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others.

Sandra sucked in her breath as she thought about the very thing her friend had tried to tell her.

I guess the truth is I don’t want comfort. I’ve lost a baby and I’m angry with God.

Just then someone else walked in the shop.

Hey Phil! Shouted the clerk to the balding, rotund man.

My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving Special..12 thorny, long-stemmed stems, laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue-wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.

Those are for your wife? asked Sandra incredulously.  Do you mind me asking why she wants something that looks like that?

No, I’m glad you asked, Phil replied.  Four years ago my wife and I nearly divorced.  After forty years we were in a real mess, but with the Lord’s grace and guidance, we slogged through problem after problem. He rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she learned from thorny times, and that was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific problem and give thanks for what that problem taught us.

As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra I highly recommend the Special.  

I don’t know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life.   Sandra said.  It’s all too fresh.

Well, the clerk replied carefully, my experience has shown me that thorns make roses more precious.  We treasure God’s providential care more during trouble than at any other time.  Remember, it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love.  Don’t resent the thorns.

Tears rolled down Sandra’s cheeks.  For the first time since the accident, she loosened her grip on resentment.

I’ll take those twelve long-stemmed thorns, please, she managed to choke out.

I hoped you would, said the clerk gently.  I’ll have them ready in a minute.

Thank you.  What do I owe you?

Nothing.  Nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart. The first year’s arrangement is always on me.  The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra.

I’ll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first.

It read: My God, I have never thanked You for my thorns.  I have thanked you a thousand times for my roses, but never once for all my thorns. Teach me the glory of the cross I bear; teach me the value of my thorns.  Show me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain.  Show me that through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant.

Praise Him for your roses; thank Him for your thorns.

–Author Unknown

Lori, the friend who gave me this story, has been confined to a wheelchair for 23 years, following a car accident.  Since her accident she has broken both her legs and suffered infections which have kept her bedridden for months, yet she is probably the most content woman I know.  When visiting her I marvel at the grace, gratitude and peace she exudes.  She knows that someday she will stand in the presence of Jesus Christ and her body will be whole, so is content to do what she can until that time comes.

Lori has taught me much about acceptance and gratitude.  I often forget to thank God for the good things in life, then complain about the thorns.  What makes us think life should be easy and comfortable?

This year, join me in giving thanks for the thorns as well as the roses.  In God’s wisdom they all belong to the same plant.

Love, Mom

The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

He leads me beside quiet waters,

He restores my soul….

Psalm 23

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Old Songs, New Songs

October 27, 2017 / / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

A few weeks ago, our worship leader started out the service by saying

Today we’re going to sing a lot of old favorites.

In my head I’m thinking

Old equals 200 years.

Obviously, she is a millennial because the songs we sang were all around 10 to 20 years old.  I chuckled to myself because the definition of old can mean different things to different people.

The songs were wonderful, well-done and worshipful, but I found it interesting that to some, old simply means a few decades.  To others, like myself, it means a few centuries.

That afternoon I got thinking about old songs and new songs.  I remembered last winter when Grandma was dying and in Hospice care. Hospice provides spiritual support, and we were blessed with a guitar-playing, boisterous singing chaplain.

Chaplain John came to the door on a snowy December day with his guitar in hand.  Being a musician myself I was elated that he obviously loved music as well.  When he came into the bedroom where Mom lay unconscious, he sat down, opened his guitar case and passed around song sheets, Christmas carols along with old yet well-loved hymns.

For the last several days before Grandma’s death, people had come in to say their good-byes, some singing, talking or praying quietly. A few weeks prior, Grandma herself one day started singing

Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so

Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong.

Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me.

Yes, Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so.

I joined in, singing along with her.  I think she knew her time was short and was comforted by this simple but profound song.

 

Awhile back I was teaching piano in Michigan, and I had a twenty-something student starting out as a beginner. She had recently become a Christian and wanted to start learning to play on the piano some songs she had heard in church. She attended a contemporary-song-singing church and loved the songs that were used in worship.  One week she came to her lesson so excited about a beautiful new song she just learned last Sunday, Amazing Grace, and wondered if I could find the music for her.  (This was before the time of musicnotes.com).  She was surprised to hear that Amazing Grace was 250 years old, but it brought her great joy as she learned to play and sing it.

I started thinking about old songs and new songs the other day, and how the old songs seem to be fading away in many churches.  Then I wondered: when millennials become senior citizens and begin to die, what songs will their friends and family sing at their bedsides?

Thinking of some of the recent popular Christian songs I wondered how we could sing Oceans, My Lighthouse, Breathe, 10,000 Reasons, Break Every Chain at someone’s bedside, not having a worship band backing us up.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love these songs, I sing, play and listen to them often, but they are rather difficult to sing acapella or as a small group with only a guitar. I am a worship leader and love learning all the new songs, but the older I get the more I wonder if we are robbing our younger friends of those old, timeless hymns of the distant past.

There is something secure, bridging the generations, with the ageless hymns of our history.

I attended worship a few years ago in Chicago.  It was a mega-church, wonderful worship band on stage, and an outstanding message on faithfulness and commitment in marriage. The song immediately following the message was Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, a hymn over 200 years old.  I was rather surprised at this choice because the rest of the service had been newer songs.  When we got to the fourth verse the words

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love

surprised me, not only because it fit so well with the message, but simply because it was a beautiful song.  The song begins with the words:

Come thou fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy praise.

Tune my heart – what a beautiful word picture.  We tune guitars, pianos and other instruments all the time with hi-tech tuners, but tuning our hearts?  That’s a lot tougher to do because it takes time – thanksgiving, confession, and alone time with God – all those good quiet disciplines that we often neglect.

It’s much easier to tune our hearts to what’s wrong with our husband, what’s wrong with our kids, all the unfairness in the world, or how you have been wronged. I’m continually trying to tune my heart to count my blessings, to give thanks in all things, but it is hard work.  The battle of the mind is relentless.    Sometimes words come out of my mouth that I didn’t even realize were in my mind.  But they were probably in my heart.

I’ll continue to enjoy the new songs, but I hope we don’t abandon the old faithful sung-through-the-centuries songs that are remarkably up to date.  Maybe that’s because people struggle with the same emotions, the same sin, the same hearts that need a tune-up every day of our life.

Love, Mom

 

 

 

 

 

 

She Did What She Could

October 9, 2017 / / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

My friend Christina called me a few weeks ago, crying as she was driving home from visiting her mom who resides in an assisted living home.  Sitting in a wheel chair and unable to speak, Christina’s mom was sad, lonely and confused.

The afternoon had witnessed beautiful autumn weather, the leaves losing their chlorophyll and becoming the auburns, reds and yellows that mingle with the splendor of the blue sky.  Christina had pushed her mom around the gorgeous garden in the courtyard area for an hour, chatting about the stories of children and grandchildren, reminiscing about days and years gone by.

After coming back to the room Christina sang some favorite hymns to her mom who was able to mouth some of the well-known choruses along with her daughter.  Then it was time to go and along with the farewell, tears flowed from both mother and daughter.  Tears of lament and frustration, grieving the difficulty of an aging body and wondering what uncertainties tomorrow will bring.  Christina ended her narrative of the afternoon with the words

I feel so helpless, there’s nothing I can do to help.

As I was listening a verse sprang into my mind

She did what she could.

I had read that sentence a few days earlier from the story of a woman who poured a year’s wages worth of perfume over the head of Jesus several days before he was crucified.  As others in the room were indignant at this obvious waste of money, Jesus rebuked them and told them to leave her alone because she had done a beautiful thing. He said:

She did what she could to prepare my body for burial.

I spoke those words to my friend and reminded her that whatever she did to her mother she had also done to Jesus.

We often forget those precious words of Jesus in Matthew 25:40:

I’m telling the solemn truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers or sisters of mine, that was me – you did it to me.

Because we humans are made in the image of God, we are valuable no matter what stage of life we are in.  Rich or poor, sick or well, crabby or cheerful, when we do any act of kindness to another, Jesus is receiving and blessing that act.

You have cared for your husbands, even forgiven them when you felt no emotional love at all.  You have cooked meals for them even when your heart was breaking with trials in life.  You have rocked your babies to sleep when they were sick during the middle hours of the night.  You have helped those who reached out for mercy and you have been blessed by Jesus.

In our culture today, those little acts of kindness do not make headlines, but they are making headlines in the unseen Kingdom of God. How it brings joy to the Father when he sees his children loving those whom others dismiss as insignificant, unimportant and invisible to society.

A few months ago, my birthday morning arrived and I was none too happy for it.  The morning had started poorly and I was not eager to face the rest of the day.  I had a few errands to do in town that morning and while preparing to leave, I unexpectedly remembered what Ann Voskamp had done on her birthday that had also started poorly.  She pulled herself out of bed and she along with her family had decided to bless others by bringing flowers to a nursing home, cookies to the police station, leaving cash in random spots in a dollar store, paying the bill for an elderly gentleman’s entire grocery cart, plus many other intentional acts of kindness.

So, I gathered some cash together and prayed for Jesus to show me who needed to be blessed on that specific day.  My errands took several hours and I saw many people, but was not impressed to give any money away until I was at my last stop. I saw an elderly gentleman coming into Simerly’s when I was going out, so I stopped him and told him it was my birthday and I wanted to bless him.  When he looked at the money I placed in his hand his eyes filled with tears.  He was a veteran, and often picked up bottles and cans in order to buy food – just scrapping by – he said. We chatted for a few minutes, he telling me some struggling stories of his life.  He was so grateful for the gift and asked if he could give me a hug.  We did, said goodbye, and my heart was filled with joy.

I still wanted to give away more but had not seen another opportunity until I was turning the last bend on the way out of town and I saw a mother pushing someone in a large stroller. I pulled off to the side of the road and waited for her to walk up to my car.  When she got near, I got out and said Hi, noticing that her boy was probably about six years old and both legs were in casts; he was wearing a diaper.

Greeting the mother, I asked how she and her son were doing.  She was so excited because on that very day her son would get the casts off his legs and be able to walk for the first time in three years.  I smiled with eagerness, sharing her joy and spoke to her son about how exciting it would be for him. Unable to speak any words, his eyes shone with delight, obviously understanding everything I said.  His name was Lucian, his mother told me, meaning Man of Light. She gratefully accepted my gift and we parted ways.

I finished the 10-minute drive home with joy in my heart.  What had started as a day of mourning turned out to be a day of rejoicing because of two simple acts of kindness I was able to do.

A few days ago the news shrieked the dreadful Las Vegas killings. Senseless, unthinkable, so horrific we cannot grasp with our minds how it was possible.  We lament, sick with revulsion.  Anxiety can climb into our hearts, fear can paralyze our souls if we listen and continually dwell on the horror.

But as Martin Luther King Jr. said so eloquently,

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Do the small acts of kindness, be the gift to another  even when you feel like you have nothing to give.  In this world that is becoming increasingly dark with evil, a candle of kindness and caring will shine more brightly than ever.

Always remember, no matter how small your act of compassion, both you and Jesus will be blessed – for whatever you do to the least of these, you have done it to Him.

Love, Mom

 

 

 

 

 

How Old Are You?

September 13, 2017 / / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

How old are you?

A seemingly simple question, but lots of options for answers.  I could state the obvious – the number of years I have lived on this earth – or use it as springboard for something more.   The other day I heard it asked as an open-ended question, so I decided to answer it for myself.

I’m old enough to know I cannot change anyone but me.

I wish I would have learned this one decades ago.  For far too long I have tried to change people, which is, in effect, criticizing God’s creation – thinking that I know better than Him.  Sounds like some dangerous ground to tread upon.

In Galatians 5:23, the last fruit of the spirit listed is self-control.  It is not husband-control or child-control, but self-control.  The only person I can change is myself and that is more than enough to keep me busy for a life time.  I still struggle with changing only myself, and I can tell it will be a life long journey.

I’m old enough to know that the most valuable things in life cannot be seen with the eyes.

There were times when I have been envious of what others have –  homes, cars, jobs –  but I’ve learned that the most valuable things in life are not my income, my college degree, where I live, what I wear, but relationships, peace of mind, love of family, a good marriage, having a handful of close friends, knowing that God loves me.

I’m old enough to know that bitterness keeps me in a deep prison, but forgiveness sets me free.

I’ve tried the bitterness road, and it is a deadly dead end.  If I want to be miserable, I will continue to replay the hurts, scenes of rage, words of anger, and any other injuries committed toward me.  But if I desire freedom, I need to forgive – today, tomorrow, next week, the following year, and most likely for the rest of my life.

For me, forgiveness has not been a one-time deal, but a lifestyle.  After forgiving a person, and giving him to God, I become free and find that a huge burden has been lifted.

I’m old enough to know that self-centeredness ruins relationships.

Being a people watcher, observing relationships and what makes or breaks them, it doesn’t take long to see that selfishness is the prime destroyer of marriages, business relationships and friendships.  If I think the world is all about what makes me happy, I will become miserable and be the loser.  But….. if I care about others’ needs and seek to bring hope and encouragement to them, I will be surprised by joy.

I am old enough to know that God answers prayer.

He doesn’t always answer it the way I think is best.  Sometimes His answer is yes, sometimes it is no, and sometimes it is wait, but He always hears and answers.

I am old enough to know that 1 Corinthians 13 has the best definition of love in the world.

Love is patient

Love is kind

It does not boast, it is not proud

Love is not rude, self-seeking or easily angered

It keeps no record of wrongs

Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth

Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.

…and Jesus Christ is the personification of Love.

Now I’m not saying I am able to love like this, but it has become my life’s goal.

I’m old enough to know that suffering is not something to be avoided.

I read the most interesting analogy of the good found in suffering the other day by Eleonore Stump in her book Wandering in Darkness:

Imagine aliens who somehow managed to tap into a video feed from earth, but all they could see was the hospital delivery room when I was being born.  And they watched as the doctors forcefully told my mom to do things that made her scream in pain.  And then when she could take no more, the doctors got out a knife and cut right into her stomach.  They took me out – blood everywhere – and even though my mom was reaching out for me and screaming for me, they immediately rushed me away from her.

What would the aliens think?  If all the aliens saw were the first few moments of life, they might think the doctors were utterly evil.  They might also conclude that bringing a child into this world is a terrible crime.  Only from a fuller perspective would they be able to see that the doctors actually cared for my mother extremely well, and in fact saved my life.  Only from a fuller perspective would they be able to understand why many of us are in fact grateful to our parents for having given us life.

Taking time to study the big picture of life – the celebrative, the suffering and everything in between – teaches me that I need all kinds of experiences on the spectrum of life to live my life to the fullest.

 

I’m old enough to know that God still works wonders and miracles today.

There are miracles of physical safety, like homes and people kept safe from wildfires, hurricanes and tornadoes. There are also the everyday miracles like a baby being born, the sun rising and setting, an eclipse, the wonder of beautiful, vibrant colors of autumn.

And then there are the miracles of people being transformed from selfish, mean, complaining, self-destructing and bitter, to caring, encouraging, loving and compassionate.  In the past few months I have heard stories from three close friends about how Jesus has transformed hearts – changing a sister, a mother and a husband.  As my friend Gail summed it up:

It is the biggest miracle on the face of this earth.

 I’m old enough to know that the unseen world is much more real than that which we  see with our eyes.

We struggle not against people, but against the spiritual world – the enemy of our soul.  This is no athletic contest that we’ll walk away from in a day or two.  It is a life-or-death fight to the finish against the Devil and all his angels.

I’m old enough to know that the sun still shines above the clouds.

Far too often on an emotionally cloudy day I forget many of the blessings that have happened in my little circle of life.  I am learning to remember that even though all I see may be dark, Jesus is still doing his work, slowly and faithfully.

I’m old enough to know that giving thanks is medicine for the soul.

Following the example of Ann Voskamp, I continue to write in my gratitude journal.  Every day I find it is as important as eating a diet of healthy food – writing line upon line those things in life for which I am grateful.  Even though it is something as simple as seeing a hummingbird or a rainbow, tickling a tiny tummy and hearing those baby giggles, or something as big as a wonderful night of sleep, I give thanks.   I am slowly learning to give thanks for the difficult struggles in life as well.

I’m old enough to know that God is good and his love endures forever.

And because of that I can face tomorrow without fear.

I hope you are a faster learner than I, and that it doesn’t take you over six decades to learn all these facts of life.  But remember that if it does, Jesus will still be patient with you as He has been with me.

Love, Mom

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Totality in Tryon

August 28, 2017 / / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Dad and I drove into Tryon, Nebraska, two days before the eclipse, having planned this trip months ago.  Because Tryon is located in the totality path, we were certain that the little town of 401 people would be crawling with visitors and we wanted to be sure to get a place in some pasture.   But when we explored the area we were pleasantly surprised that only a handful of spectators had arrived.  So we drove around Tryon, the only town in the county, and unexpectedly found Kim and Janelle Blake, the owners of Blake Ranch, which had been prepared in advance for all the incoming viewers.

Having heard of the price gouging going on in the prime viewing areas, we were prepared to pay dearly for a spot in the pasture.  When Janelle told us that their rate was $15 a night, we were shocked and amazed.  I asked why they were charging so little and she replied, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night if I had charged any more.

We signed up for two nights, received an autographed cow’s ear tag as our receipt, and bumped along looking for the perfect viewing spot.  Since there were only 7 other campers on the 80-acre pasture, we found some prime land right next to a large hay bale, giving us a bit of shade in the 95-degree heat.

We pitched our tent, taking care to avoid the cow pies and gopher hills and were quite pleased with our humble abode, especially since we hadn’t been camping for years.

At 6:00 that night Kim drove to the pasture with his pickup and grill, fired it up and bar-b-qued hamburgers for all who were camping – free of charge – just because they figured people would be tired and hungry from traveling.  Janelle brought out homemade coleslaw, pink fluff salad and baked beans, along with Rice Krispy treats for dessert.  We had a delightful evening meeting and dining with others from the far reaches of the U.S.

On Sunday morning, a worship service was held in the city park, just a short walk from the pasture.  Many people from various faith walks came together to sing and worship in the beautiful outdoors.

During the afternoon, we went driving – taking the roads five miles north, five miles south, five miles east and five miles west of Tryon to see the outlying land (and also to feel some a/c).  We went only 5 miles each direction because every road became beautifully predictable, miles and miles of daisies scattered on the sides of the road, along with lush green prairie grass – a sight we don’t often see in Idaho.

In the evening, we were treated to a program called Sandhills Through Song…musical fun with musical facts of our heritage.  It was comprised of local people singing, square dancing, fiddle, harmonica and banjo playing with a variety of home-grown talent including our gracious hosts Kim and Janelle.

 

Monday morning – the day of the eclipse – dawned, barely, with heavy fog and cloud-filled skies, just as predicted.  But miraculously, around 11:00, the clouds parted and gave way to a stunning blue sky, just in time for the start of the eclipse.

By this time more than 100 additional cars had pulled in to share our 80 acres and another 20 or more RVs had arrived the night before.  We could feel the anticipation of the amazing, once in a life-time eclipse – everyone setting up lawn chairs, chaise lounges, sun awnings, making certain all the eclipse glasses were available, cameras on tri-pods – a regular Woodstock for Geeks.  People from Guam, Africa, China plus many parts of America, and according to the Where Are You From???? Map, we were the only ones representing Idaho.


One neighbor walked by in a semi-daze, then introduced himself to us.  He commented that this seemed to be one of those rare occasions when people got the gaze off themselves and onto something else outside of their own little me-first world.  Interesting observation.

Then exactly as had been predicted, the moon started its shadow at the 1 o’clock position on the sun.  Reminding me of a little pac man, the shadow began to grow, making the sun look like a bright yellow moon at noon.  Slowly, the moon continued to move across the sun, our surroundings becoming darker, shadowy and about 15 degrees cooler than it had been.  At exactly 12:53, the moon was positioned, exactly centered on the sun and the entire crowd in the pasture erupted with cheers and whistles, as if a touch down at a football game had just occurred.

Words cannot express the beauty of that ring of fire around the moon, but I’ll try.  Indescribable, amazing, stellar, stupendous, remarkable, incredible, exquisite, astounding, astonishing, and defying description.

The words of Psalm 19 ran through my mind:

The heavens declare the glory of God,

The skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech,

Night after night they reveal knowledge.

They have no speech, they use no words,

No sound is heard from them,

Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,

Their words to the ends of the world.

 The Message version of the Bible puts it another way:

God’s glory is on tour in the sky,

God-craft on exhibit across the horizon

Madame Day holds classes every morning,

Professor Night lectures each evening.

Their words aren’t heard,

Their voices aren’t recorded,

But their silence fills the earth:

Unspoken truth is spoken everywhere.

 I guess you could say that the eclipse is God’s way of speaking in every language that He and His creation is beyond imagination and explanation, bigger and more complex, yet so intricately timed and predictable than any of us could ever perceive.

During totality, we took off our eclipse glasses and marveled at the sight.  Looking around we could see stars in the sky and hear crickets chirruping in the fields – for exactly 2 minutes and 43 seconds.  Then everything started to lighten up and the reverse crescent began to appear.

That experience of viewing the eclipse was certainly worth the two nights in the pasture, swatting mosquitos, ants, spiders, Daddy-long-legs and other unnamed flying insects.  Sharing the experience with Dad and many other campers was something I’ll never forget.

The Totality in Tryon was much more than just the eclipse, it was a glimpse of generous, small-town people taking pride in their community, delighting to share the treasures which are theirs, holding visitors in esteem instead of simply seeing them as a quick buck to be made over a weekend.

My greatest gratitude goes to the little unincorporated city of Tryon for blessing us as we shared together the glory of God’s creation.

Love, Mom

p.s. I didn’t post any pics of the eclipse because you have already seen many better than mine:)

 

 

 

 

 

Do You Love Your Hips?

August 1, 2017 / / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Do you love your hips?  was the first sentence I read yesterday when I picked up Stasi Eldredge’s book, Becoming Myself.  I must say it stopped me in my tracks.

Actually, my hips have been growing larger over the last few years and I liked them better when I was younger.  But because Stasi asked this question about hips, I have been thinking about the marvelous body God has given me.

Now don’t get me wrong, my body is 62 years old, sagging and bagging in places I would rather it not sag and bag, but if I look at all my body is still capable of doing, I do marvel.

Stasi encourages us to thank God for every specific part of our bodies.  So, I began one day:

Thank you, God for my feet. 

They have taken me miles and miles in this life.   My feet have been obedient and true, going where I’ve directed them to go, and stopping when I have told them to stop.  They often get sweaty and stinky, but they have been faithful feet.

Thank you for my legs. 

They have carried my body through many states, hiking up mountains, running down sand dunes, walking down the aisle to marry your dad.  They have obeyed me and have gone wherever I have asked them to go.  My upper legs are much more jiggly than they used to be, but they still work.

I give thanks for my hands. 

When I remember all that my hands have done I stand amazed.  They have lifted food to my mouth so that I may be fed, and also to others’  that they too may be nourished.  My hands have created music, applauded countless times for other people, cheering them on, encouraging their efforts.  My hands have soothed you and dried your tears, my daughters, when you were sorrowing, hung on to and guided your two-wheelers when you were learning to ride, braided your hair.  These hands can still prepare a meal, cut veggies, make smoothies, point others in the right direction and give hugs.  Yes, the veins in my hands stick out and are looking gnarly these days, but they still work just fine.

I am grateful for my eyes. 

I can see the stars at night, the full moon in season, your smiles, your beautiful children, the words in a book, the stunning colors of the sunset.  Amazingly, I have recently learned to thank God for the bags under my eyes.  For years I have been embarrassed about them, but now I look at them and am reminded of how faithful the Lord has been to me throughout all the years of insomnia.

On and on I have begun to thank God for the miracle that I am.  You know, it’s funny, but we can live all day, going about our business, walking to and fro, and never once stop and realize the walking miracles that we all are.  It seems the only time we actually think too much about our bodies is when they are not working properly or when we think they don’t measure up to those around us.

Because you are fearfully and wonderfully made, there is no shame.  You are who God has created you to be.  Unique.  Beautiful.  Quirky.  Glorious.  One of a kind and celebrated.

Thank you, Lord for my heart.

It is interesting to think that the same God who created the mountains, lakes, forests and all the creatures that inhabit them,  created you – in His image.  He made us to be His reflection.  He made you with a heart to love, to feel pain and hurt but also to leap with immense joy.  He endowed you with a spirit that is much more beautiful than any part of our bodies.  Your spirit is the most important part of you, your body simply the temporary covering that is wasting away.

It is so tempting to look at others who seem to be more beautiful and play the comparison game – but as we all know it’s a dead end.  Enjoy and celebrate who God has made you to be, because there is no one else like you and He is singing over your life as you take this very breath.  (Zephaniah 3:17)

As Sam Levenson says so simply:

For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others;

For beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness;

And for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.

Thank God for your body, every part of it, and the specific beauty He has given you.  He knows you intimately – every flaw, every hurt, each joy of your heart –  yet loves you dearly.  You are noticed and known and loved.  As 1 John 4:10 says so simply:

This is love: not that we loved God,

but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.

If God is for us, what does it matter that we do not fit the mold of the world’s beauty?  Give thanks for every cell (there are 15 trillion of them), every hair (about 5 million of those, yet I think our Blessed-with-hair family probably has more), and every blood vessel (around 100,00 miles of them) and stand in awe of how amazing our Creator is and how incredible is the fact that He specifically created you to be a part of this glorious world.

Love, Mom

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Deep and Simple

July 19, 2017 / / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Last week your cousins Jen and Allie were visiting and we got looking at some old pictures of great-relatives, along with those of the extended family from a decade ago.  It was amusing to listen to the comments:

So that’s where I got my nose from

His ears are pointy just like mine

I wonder who I got the double skin flap of my ear from

Did you know little James can touch his nose with his tongue just like Grandpa?

Amanda’s toes are just like mine

Mariah has one pointy ear and one curled ear

I didn’t know you could curl your tongue, how do you do that??

What’s a prominent chin?  Do I have one? 

and the comparisons go on and on….

It is truly amazing how noses, chins, eyes, smiles, legs, elbows, laughing sounds, voice inflections, mental aptitudes and talents continue to be passed down generation after generation.  It’s something over which we have absolutely no control.  Dark straight hair, blue eyes, pointy chins, curly blond hair, perfect pitch, freckles, long bony fingers, short stubby toes – these are things we are born with, like it or not.

Along with the many physical characteristics we inherit from ancestors, we also become heir to habits, sounds of laughter, attitudes, lifestyles and beliefs, although these characteristics are prone to change over the years.  When we get old enough to make choices for ourselves and discern what is valuable, we can choose what can be tossed away and which we will keep and continue to pass down to the next generation.

What continues to amaze me is that with billions of people in the world from now through generations past, is that God continues to come up with yet another unique person – you – who is distinct from every other yet created.

How cool is it that the same God who created mountains and oceans and galaxies looked at you and thought the world needed one of you, too.  Chelly Picone

 

A wonderful quote from Mister Rogers – the calm, kind-hearted, soft-spoken man who captured the hearts of millions of children for decades – is one of my favorites:

Life is deep and simple, but what our society gives us is shallow and complicated.

We can make choices in life that are simple – tell the truth, listen more than you speak, care for those weaker than yourself, forgive those who offend you, believe that Jesus loves you, make people a priority over things, drink water, eat food that God created, enjoy a simple walk outside, stop and smell the flowers, watch a sunset.  Give thanks.

Or –

We can make choices that are complex – have a good memory so you can keep track of what you said to whom (because they may not be the same), make mountains out of molehills, always look out for number one, believe that you have to take care of yourself because nobody else will, hang on to offenses no matter how small, eat food that man has concocted, make things a priority over people.  Always stay busy and often say hurry.  Complain.

The older I get the simpler I want my life to be, not that I always have a choice, but it is my preference.

As I look back over the generations who have preceded me and see the physical traits I have inherited, I also search back into my history and discard that which was hurtful and harmful, holding fast to that which is life-giving and nurturing.

Besides Mister Rogers’ quote, one of my favorite simple statements is

Trust God and do good.

 If I do that (and believe me it’s not always easy) I stay at peace and I do not despair.  But if I forget and get caught up in a moment of anger, listen too much to the news, and focus on what I don’t have – I fall into discouragement.

Simple and deep.

Trust God and do good.

Change what you can but celebrate your inheritance.

Love, Mom

 

 

 

Geese

June 23, 2017 / / 4 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Yesterday Grandpa and I had to go to the accountant’s office to drop off some papers.  Hanging on the wall was a picture of geese flying in an autumn sky. Below the picture were printed a few highlights about geese which I had learned back in college, but forgotten over the decades.

In His wisdom, God hardwired geese, and other migratory birds, with the instinct to fly in a “V” formation, and for very good reasons. Scientists estimate that geese can fly 70% further with the same energy because of their formation.  They reach their destination more quickly and with less energy than if they tried flying alone.

When a goose falls out of formation, it suddenly feels the drag and resistance of flying alone.  It quickly moves back into formation to take advantage of the synergy that comes from the lifting power of the birds in front.  A goose learns quickly that it takes a lot more energy and effort to fly alone than with a community.

When a goose gets sick, two other geese fall out of formation to follow it down, helping and protecting it. The helper geese will stay with and protect the sick goose from predators until it is well enough to fly again.

When the lead goose tires, another goose flies up to take that lead position.  No one goose can keep on being the leader all the time.  They contentedly lead awhile then follow awhile.

You will often hear geese honking as they fly overhead in the fall.  Their honks are not at all melodious or beautiful but they do communicate encouragement and keep up the good work in bird language.

It is amazing how closely our human lives parallel the geese and their V formation – the synergy of flying together, the helping out when others are down, and the communication during the flight.

Our family’s V is not always in perfect formation, at times it is jagged and broken,  but we have found that flying together is much better than flying alone.

Thank you, all my daughters, for your love and faithfulness, for honking at the right time, taking turns at leading, and helping out when one of us is weak.

In the midst of pain and sadness my heart is full of joy as we continue to fly.

Love, Mom

 

 

 

Preemptive Love

April 6, 2017 / / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Jeremy and Jessica Courtney are quite an unusual couple.  In their mid-twenties, they moved from a small Texas town to Baghdad, Iraq – a rather unlikely place for young marrieds to raise their children.

When the horror of 9-11 occurred – radical Muslims destroying America’s Temple – many people reacted with horror and hate.  The church that the Courtneys attended, however, didn’t cower in fear because of the terror, but continued to preach the words of Jesus found in Matthew 5:44:

Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who mistreat you and persecute you.

Those words are easy to say and memorize, but much harder to live out every day.  It’s one thing to love those with whom you live and work, but to go half way around the world, choosing to move away from family and American comforts, living among many who hate Americans was way beyond my realm of thinking.

Jeremy and Jessica took those words of Jesus seriously, and acted on them.

Love first, ask questions later

 was Jeremy and Jessica’s motto when they first moved to Iraq, arriving in an area ruled by chaos and fear.  The Courtney’s original plan was to help war widows, but that eventually evolved into finding surgeons for the thousands of children needing heart surgery.   Birth defects caused by the 1988 chemical warfare of Saddam Hussein were the reason for many of these heart defects.   Thirty years later there are still numerous troubling birth defects and cancers that rival the 1945 bombing of Hiroshima.

As Jeremy met many children suffering from heart ailments, he met and made friends with Sunnis and Shias (warring sects of Muslims) Grand Sheikhs, not so grand sheikhs, turbaned clerics, Kurds, Arabs, Israelis – many who are mortal enemies of each other.  But it is amazing, when countless children with heart defects become a common denominator, how some of those differences begin to melt away.

In the ten years that the Courtney’s have lived in Iraq, through many failures and successes, celebrations and disappointments among warring peoples and ideologies, they have learned a most important lesson.  In Jeremy’s words:

I no longer accept the zero-sum worldview that says we cannot simultaneously be on the side of the Democrats and the Republicans; Americans, Israelis and Iranians; Jews and Palestinians; Sunnis and Shias; Arabs, Kurds and Turks.  I choose them all.

            I don’t lean left or right.  I lean in.  I lean forward, because that’s where love lives.

When I read those paragraphs, I thought Yes!  That’s how we are supposed to live.  Why do we mentally put labels on everyone we meet?  Conservative, liberal, black, white, athletic, lazy, annoying, insecure, not deserving of my time, educated or not…

 

Though many Iraqis were open to going to neighboring countries to save their children’s lives, Jeremy was astounded by the statement coming from a grand sheikh when he heard that Americans and Jews would be willing to help his children:

We must stop this treatment lest it lead our children and their parents to love their enemies, leading to apostasy!

Loving hate more than the health of their children opened a window into some people’s hearts that was horrifying.  Jeremy was overcome by this insight into the strength and vow of hatred, which was the main reason he committed himself to a life of Preemptive Love.  Love that strikes first in the midst of anger and fear, love that is strong and fearless in the face of evil.

 

When a fatwa (a death threat) was issued against Jeremy and Preemptive Love Coalition, he didn’t change a thing he was doing – except to invite the Coalition members to their house for prayer.  His invitation-to-pray email read as follows:

Let’s pray for the aggressors.  Let’s hope to engage them in dialogue and love.  Let’s hope to serve their children and their families.  We should long to give them more than good news; we should give them our own lives as well.

            And let’s not back down.  Above all, this is our time to follow Jesus.  I’ve talked a lot about preemptive love, loving our enemies, not resisting an evil person, feeding our hungry/thirsty enemies, and being at peace with everyone as far as it depends on us.  But it is not just rhetoric.  This is our way of life. 

            We love others because God first loved us in Christ.  We should not be cowed into submission or fear by a bunch of thugs who want to harm us.

            We have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Jeremy’s book Preemptive Love, is a story about just that – striking first with love.  After reading it I felt a bit weak – actually cowardly – in my loving.  I thought I loved well, but when I see a love that travels over the ocean to strike enemies with preemptive love, I am amazed.  Amazed that some people actually obey what Jesus says.

Instead of following Jeremy’s mantra of

Love first, ask questions later

 I often

Accuse first, ask questions later

Get angry first, ask questions later

Judge first, ask questions later

I pray that I may let go of my natural impulses to accuse, get angry and judge – and learn to love preemptively – just like Jesus loved.  Enemies as well as friends.  If the Courtneys can travel half way around the world to love their enemies, I know that I can love those around me.

This concept could transform marriages, families and churches.  Please join with me to become the Preemptive Love people in our own communities.

Love, Mom

P.S.  You have probably heard about the chemical attack in Syria two days ago.   Preemptive Love Coalition was one of the first responders, caring for the sick and dying  soon after the news broke.

 

 

 

 

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