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A Curse

March 16, 2017 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Seven months ago Dad and I drove north a few hours and spent three days at a beautiful Bed & Breakfast in Challis, Idaho. There were gorgeous mountains all around, the Salmon River running through – a place that should bring peace. But I made it quite miserable for Dad and I because I slept poorly and cried much of the days, saying

I just want to die.

Because of my chronic fatigue, I knew even before we went that I would stay back while Dad went hiking and exploring the deserted mines and ghost towns. He would come back a few times a day to check on me – I can’t imagine why – because I was Negative Nellie, lamenting my lot in life, telling him I just wanted to die.

I would get up and walk around now and then, put on my happy face for our hostess, saying how much we loved their ranch. Then back to the room and depression where I threw a remarkable pity party.

All in all, it was a despondent time for me, which of course affected Dad as well. I had been thinking those words I just want to die for a while but had never verbalized it. My life had been becoming more difficult because of Grandma’s decline into severe dementia and I was feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.

A few days after we returned home from the ranch, I was listening to a YouTube talk by Derek Prince. He was speaking about Blessings and Curses. He said

Whenever you say the words I just want to die, you are bringing a curse on yourself.

I was rather shocked because I figured I was simply expressing my emotions honestly and openly. But Derek spoke the words from Proverbs 18:21

The tongue can bring death or life: those who love to talk will reap the consequences.

I was convicted that the words I had been repeating were bringing me down and certainly not helping my physical or emotional health.

Derek also taught that in order to combat the curse I had been proclaiming on myself I needed to speak words to give life, and he gave this replacement phrase

I shall not die but live, and shall declare the works and recount the illustrious acts of the Lord. Proverbs 118:17

I decided to memorize that verse and started saying it over and over again – out loud when I was alone and in my mind when I was around people. I was quite amazed at how my outlook on life changed. Yes, it was a battle to say those words because the other negative words had worn a well-trod path in my mind, but I was determined to get rid of the curse I had placed on myself.

Interestingly, for years as a teacher, I would not allow my students to use the word can’t because of the negative impact it had on children’s ability to learn and perform. But here I was – not speaking the word can’t – yet using words that were life-killing and having adverse effects on me and Dad. Isn’t it true that we are usually at our ugliest with our husbands? I would typically be kind and good to others around me, saving the worst moods to be exhibited for the one I love the most.

Just this week Dad and I went away for a few days again, this time into the Boise foothills, renting a charming little VRBO cabin. It was a delightful few days, sleeping well, and having a bit more energy. Dad went biking and hiking while I stayed around home base, but I actually enjoyed myself – taking short walks around the area, snapping some pictures, reading, writing and saying those words of blessing over and over again

I shall not die but live and shall declare the works and recount the illustrious acts of the Lord.

Sometimes shortening it to

I shall not die but live and declare the works of the Lord.

I have learned much about blessings and curses in these past months, and have started dissecting other thoughts I have had in years past. A few thoughts like

Our marriage is never going to get any better, why not just give up

I am never to be healthy again

Poor me, everyone else sleeps so much better than I

__________________ (fill in the blank) is never going to change

What have I done to deserve this illness?

It’s thoughts like these that can paralyze our lives, as we despair for anything ever getting better. Curses – negative words spoken toward ourselves or others – are real and not just harmless phrases. They carry the power of life and death within them.

Watch your thoughts for they become words. Watch your words for they become actions. Watch your actions for they become habits. Watch your habits for they become your character. And watch your character for it becomes your destiny. What we think, we become.

~ Author unknown

Many years ago I remember telling a friend about some thoughts that were distressing me at the time. Her reply was Oh, don’t worry about your thoughts – they don’t matter – it’s only actions that count.

Her advice didn’t seem quite right and I forgot about it for a while, but looking back I see that it was poor advice and a downright lie. Your thoughts do matter because they are the seeds we plant that eventually become our destiny.

I have learned to speak blessings over myself, Dad, our family and over other situations that Jesus brings to my mind from time to time. It is so easy to get trapped in our situations, thinking and speaking that we are doomed to stay here for the rest of our lives. But that is not the truth. All things are possible with God, and nothing is possible without Him.

Speak blessings and not curses – about yourselves, your life circumstances, and others around you – and learn what power those words have in your life.

Love, Mom

A Trio of Weakness

March 9, 2017 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

I had the most delightful morning… again.

A few months ago I started praying for a friend near Hagerman, our little sleepy town of 867 here in Southern Idaho. I did have a wonderful friend who lived down our lane, but back in October she moved away and I was missing that beautiful gift of friendship.

So, through an interesting story of happenings I was introduced to Sue and Lori. Both women are my age, with striking similarities. Sue has recently been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and is weakening physically. We met at Lori’s home, a ramp in front to accommodate her wheelchair since she is paralyzed from the waist down due to a car accident over 20 years ago. And then there’s me struggling with the would-love-to-walk-a-half-mile chronic fatigue.

Sue is a rancher’s wife and was used to helping her husband work with the cattle and calves, along with other energetic outdoor work. She was strong, able to work on the ranch as well as run a dog grooming business.

Lori used to make beautiful wooden signs plus creating many other items out of a simple piece of wood but now has no extra energy to be the artisan she was.

I used to teach music to children K-12 and beyond, teaching many how to sing and play the piano, but no longer have the strength for that.

When we arrived, Lori had hot water ready for tea so we gathered around the table and started chatting. This was our third time together, so we briefly talked about physical struggles we were having personally. The conversation turned to the current happenings on earth and we marveled over how all the prophecies of the Bible have and are coming true. Then we started looking forward to someday – when Jesus returns – the joy it will be to have new glorified bodies. Our moods heightened, speaking of that glorious day when our strength will be renewed; we will soar on wings like eagles, run without getting weary, and walk without fainting.

Lori, Sue and I are the personification of weakness in the world’s eyes and we lamented a little that because of our physical infirmities we are sometimes misunderstood, causing frustration to some simply because we are no longer full of energy and able to do what we previously did.

We talked about relational struggles in the here and now, plus the navigating that goes along with them. Next came books we had read by C S Lewis, Derek Prince, and others we plan to read in the future. We wrestled with ideas, opinions, facts – not necessarily agreeing on everything – and life in general.

Finally, we prayed together, thanking God and interceding for our husbands, children and grandchildren, for the leaders of our country, for our churches and for the wisdom to know our places in the midst of this chapter of our lives that God has graciously given us.

Too soon, two hours were gone and it was time to leave for lunch. We said our goodbyes and agreed to meet same day, same time, next week.

I came to Lori’s that morning tired, and a bit discouraged. I left full of joy, with an expectation of good things to come, and encouraged that Jesus had heard my cry for friendship and answered so kindly. The synergy of talking honestly and vulnerably was energizing and made my heart sing.

Even though I’ve only known these women for a month I feel like we are soul sisters. Jesus seems to do that with people who are united in Him. Lori and Sue have suffered much yet they are joyful and full of life, though not of physical strength.

The three of us agreed today that if we had not been blessed with physical weakness we would have never had the strength to be still, wait on God for his good plans, or sit around a table hungering for more of Him and a willingness to do His work.

How I pray that you too, my daughters, will trust God with your needs, desires, and experience how He works best in our weaknesses and complete dependence on Him, waiting patiently and expectantly for his good answers to whatever you may ask.

Love, Mom

Remembering…

March 1, 2017 / Shari Baar / 5 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Today I started cleaning out Grandma’s closet. Shoes, black snow boots, her favorite fuzzy slippers, tee-shirts with musical notes embroidered, pants with elastic waistbands, a shoe stretcher, her fluffy pink bathrobe –so many of them causing me to remember when she wore them and what she did while wearing them. Her lovely blue jacket when she played piano at recitals, and her old work clothes for gardening, walking shoes….

Almost three months have passed since Grandma has walked the halls of her home. It’s lonely walking down the lane by myself. When I play the piano I have no audience to listen, to clap when I’m finished playing a song, no accompanying whistler as I play. I’m growing accustomed to life as it is now, but it is different.

I know Grandma is rejoicing in heaven and I’m celebrating with her, yet her memories will continue to be with me every day for the rest of my life.

How can someone forget their mom?

A few days ago, Mariah sent me a poem she had written about Grandma.

Remembering You

I am nothing to you

Not now anyways

For all you know

I am simply another person

Living somewhere

Out in the world

You used to remember

Who I was

And where you were

You used to play

Everyday

And whistle

As though it were

Your second language

You used to go on walks

And water the flowers

You used to be

So full of life

And energy

And happiness

But now

You’ve forgotten

How to talk to the birds

Your hands

Have left the ivory cold

And the plants you watered

Are beginning to wilt

The road you once walked

Is now empty

Devoid of life

The doors you opened

Are now closed

But no matter

Where you are

Or how you have changed us

I pray

That the birds won’t forget

Your songs

Your call

Nor the piano

Your music

I pray

That the roads you have traveled

Will remember your journey

And the closed doors

Are never forgotten

But most of all

That the people you met

Will never forget you

The legacy you left behind

The music you gave us

The memories you were a part of

Grandma

Thank you

For all you’ve given us

For all you’ve left behind

Thank you Grandma

Thank you

~ Mariah Potoka, age 14

Thanks, my dear granddaughter Mariah, for reminding me once again how important each one of our lives are. Even though we may think of our life stories as insignificant, the decisions we make today will affect others tomorrow, next week, next year – and to generations beyond.

It’s not the big impressive things we do, but the thousand unremarkable steps we take every day that make a beautiful life.

Ann Voskamp calls it living a life of holy redundancy – showing up faithfully day after day in the seemingly little things.

That’s what Grandma did. She loved the same man for 66 years, walked down the lane and beyond with a plastic bag in hand picking up trash from the ditches. She played and taught from her beloved piano for hours, bringing pleasure to herself and thousands of others. Every day she would faithfully make meals for us – my favorite macaroni and cheese, and my gagging worst – liver with onions, which I would slip to the dog under the table.

I know some days you feel like walking away from responsibility, turning your back on those who have hurt you, who haven’t appreciated all your sacrifice and love. But Jesus sees your heart and is there cheering you on. He will never leave or forsake you and will give you the strength to carry on yet another hour and then another day ….

You have probably heard of the ripple effect. Throw a small stone in a calm pond and watch the ripples expand incrementally to the very boundaries of that pool of water. That’s what Grandma’s life did. She lived quietly, unassumingly, simply, thankfully, and because of that her life has touched many people, including you and me, for which I am extremely grateful.

Your kindness, your choice to forgive, your obedience to God, your faithfulness and perseverance will also go out as ripples to many you may never meet –and will be remembered far beyond today.

Live your one life well.

Love, Mom

Trust in the Lord and do good…. Psalm 37:3

Happy Wives Club

February 14, 2017 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

When I received a package in the mail from a friend of mine with a book entitled Happy Wives Club I groaned. Really?? Sounded a bit simplistic to me. I had just had a disagreement with Dad and at that moment I was not a happy wife.

Then I read the About the Author page in the back of the book. Fawn Weaver is this beautiful young black woman, Type A personality, the CEO of one company and a CIO of its online subsidiary, has been on TED talks, started her own company at age 18, and on and on………. and happily married. PLUS, she just wrote this book after traveling around the world, and runs the HappyWivesClub.com website that has had over 2,500,000 visitors.

I was ready to throw the book in the trash because in my world I have just enough energy to do what I have to do, and the remainder of the time I’m resting, reading and writing because my energy wanes way too quickly. Jealous is the first word that comes to mind after reading about Fawn Weaver.

But when I settled down for my daily afternoon rest I calmed down and became curious, so decided to read at least the first chapter, with a somewhat contrived inner gratitude to my friend for sending me a free book.

Fawn’s take on the recent onslaught of negativity surrounding marriage was on target. She cited Desperate Housewives, Basketball Wives, Stepford Wives and Married with Children as messages to TV viewers that wives are miserable, husbands cheat, and marriages don’t last.

Like all of us, she has witnessed marriages crumble, yet she is in a good marriage and was curious if she was an anomaly or if there were other wives out there in the world who are happy. So, Fawn decided to take a trip around the world – traveling to 12 countries on 6 continents – with the mission of talking to couples of all cultures in the world who had been married for more than 25 years, searching to find some stunningly simple truths about what makes wives happy and marriages last.

Amazingly, or maybe not so amazingly, throughout the world marriages thrive because of a handful of simple secrets.

The main secret: There is no plan B for marriage. Happily married couples have subtracted the word divorce from the equation. Because they see marriage as life long, there is plenty of time to agree to disagree and take their time in finding common ground.

One of the couples Fawn interviewed in Canada had experienced unfaithfulness. Interestingly, the reason Faye’s adultery started was because she allowed out of control negative thoughts to continually run through her mind. She had become bitter because of one incident early in their marriage that she continued to feed on, refusing to forgive. The marriage was healed when Edward chose to forgive her and Faye submitted to counseling – a long road in getting to the complex root of her bitterness.

Jerry and Bonnie, also Canadians, centered in on the sentence We disagree fairly and don’t fight dirty. Calling each other names is just plain mean and they can stick in a spouse’s mind forever. Shut up unless it really matters, is another mantra they follow. Let the small stuff go, petty annoyances are not worth fighting over. AEOD (accept each other’s differences) is a good acronym to keep in mind. Just because your husband is different from you doesn’t mean he’s wrong.

In South Africa, Henry and Pat spoke of respecting one another. Respect actually turned up in every language around the world, from Indian `arranged’ marriages to `love’ marriages in many other countries. Henry and Pat also decided that because tomorrow is never promised, they would never carry a disagreement into the night.

In Croatia, Mia invited Fawn to go to The Museum of Broken Relationships – a place representing the exact opposite of what Fawn was looking for on her world-wide tour. It won the 2011 European Award for Most Innovative Museum. Inside were scattered wedding albums, teddy bears, pink furry handcuffs, wedding dresses, an axe, videos chronicling the pain of love gone wrong, among many other disturbing exhibits and their corresponding stories.

Later that day Fawn met Sanja, a fashion model and an arms dealer for the Swedes, and she too was adamant about the respect issue. If I want respect, I must treat him with respect. She believes it is impossible to expect something you are not willing to give yourself. Yes, it takes work – but there’s nothing wrong with work.

On to the Philippines, Ben and Gloria were asked if they had any regrets, looking back over their decades of marriage. Looking at each other they both said No, everything we’ve done from the beginning we’ve continued to do until now.

Really?? Now that’s unbelievable for me. I’ve known a lot of married folks in my life and no one has ever told me that. I’ve had regrets, everyone I know has had regrets. Although to be fair, Fawn mentioned that the Filipinos are by nature some of the cheeriest people she has ever met. Maybe that’s the secret….

Doug and Barb, living in a 150-square-foot RV in Australia, mentioned the Golden Rule as a main factor that kept their marriage strong for 40 years. Doug, now caring for Barb who suffers from ALS, says that Doing unto others as you would have them do to you was taught him by his parents, and his wife has been the chief beneficiary of that wisdom. They both learned that personal sacrifice for anyone, especially your spouse, is a great display of strength and character. Not weakness.

In Fiji, the issue of disposability came up. Andrew said, When our parents bought a television they kept it for 20 years, and if it broke they fixed it. The same was the case for refrigerators and anything else. Now we buy new televisions well before they’re broken, because there’s a newer model out. We do that with computers and everything else. It seems that disposability has overtaken relationships as well. If there’s a newer better-looking model, many people just dump the old one.

Once again – we’re back to the No Plan B, divorce is out of the equation – the universal marriage saver.

The last country Fawn visited was Argentina where she talked with Marcello and Silvina. Marcello commented that Silvina is like a spider. It seemed a strange image for a wife to take on, but Silvina agreed that she is like a spider spinning her web. When she sees the web starting to break she works to fix it, otherwise the hole just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

Hmmm, a great word picture. Better to mend a hole when it’s small than trying to repair a huge gaping rip. Good wisdom to remember.

Back to her home in California, Fawn talked to a few more couples. With more than half of marriages ending in divorce, she learned that happiness in marriage is a choice. It’s kind of like a plant, an everlasting plant that is meant to be watered so it can bloom and produce fruit. But you have to be willing to nurture it daily or it will wilt, turn brown and die.

All the couples Fawn interviewed had a daily ritual of some kind, breakfast together, tea in the afternoon – some time where they could connect, talk and build trust day by day.

For Dad and I, every night after he watches the news he comes to give me a backrub, a specific lymphatic backrub he learned from a therapist I had visited. It only takes a few minutes, but it has obliterated the neck stiffness I had experienced for years. Then we talk, sometimes for 10 minutes sometimes 45. Our talks range from politics to children to caretaking responsibilities for Grandpa to books we have recently been reading. It is good, affirming and a wonderful way to end the day. After we talk, we pray for whoever God brings to mind that evening. Praying together has helped to bring unity into our marriage.

Fawn also found a universal belief and dependence on God within every successful marriage. Couples always fare better if there is a third, invisible Person involved.

Marriage around the world is fundamentally the same for everyone. We may be different colors, have dramatically different cultural backgrounds and stories, eat different food, yet if we have a pulse we have a need for respect, acceptance and love. Love is a choice, just like happiness, and they are the most beautiful choices in the world.

My dear daughters, continue to choose happiness in your marriages and be blessed.

Love, Mom

P.S. The book and the Happy Wives Club website are both wonderful. The website gives some wonderful ideas about how to love your husband better, which brings more happiness to you!

The Zig Zag Life

February 5, 2017 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

My favorite subject as a sophomore in high school was geometry. One of the basic axioms I learned was, The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. And it is indeed true – in geometry.

But as you may have noticed in life, we don’t travel from Point A (birth) to Point B(death) in a straight up-the-mountain line. There are high points, low points and lots of zigs and zags around the in-between points.

I could never understand those people who had 10-year plans or 5-year plans, simply because I wasn’t one of them. A 1-year plan was about as far out as I could think. If you own a business you have a plan for future growth, expansion projects, and other such things outside of my realm of knowledge, but my life as a wife, mom and teacher was often lived one day at a time – and sometimes barely that.

Since Dad and I have been married we have moved 11 times within four states, and that’s a lot of zigging and zagging geographically. Some people seem to be able to learn the things God has prepared for them while they live in the same house, others of us need to go from place to place, learning those important lessons of life.

I used to ponder the Israelites wandering from place to place in the wilderness for 40 years, when they could have walked straight to their destination in a few weeks. I remember thinking, That’s a really inefficient way for God to get His people from here to there. But after reading about all their grumbling, complaining and general discontent with everything going on in their lives- even in the midst of free food and clothes that never wore out – I began to understand I was much like them.

In my earlier years, I would often complain how things in my life were not going as I would have liked. Moving here, moving there, meeting friends only to leave and start over again. I was simply looking to my comfort as the litmus test for my happiness. I was lonely, I didn’t have a long-term friend, my potential was not being fulfilled….

Quite self-centered and immature, don’t you think?

In 1543, Copernicus bravely announced his audacious theory that the sun was the center of our solar system, not the earth as was commonly thought. Although this theory had been previously considered well before Jesus was born, it had never been given much credence.

In the same way, humans throughout all the ages have gravitated toward the idea that we are the center of our own small universes, but as most of us have figured out it’s not true and it doesn’t bring much happiness.

I used to pray, asking God to change the circumstances of my life so I could have a peaceful life. If I was ever in a place remotely resembling a wilderness, I would try quickly to change the people (usually my family) or conditions around me to suit my preferences.

Thank God I have learned that I am the only person I can change. I know now not to avoid or escape the hard times, but to ask what He wants me to learn through them. After many years of grumbling, I have learned to thank God for actually using the hard times to help me – not to hinder me.

Of course, we have to understand that the number one focus of God as he works in our life is to mold our character to be like His. Specifically, He is making us more patient and kind, less boastful and proud, more joyful and long-suffering, less selfish and impatient. Character is much more important than money, control and fame – which is completely upside down to what our culture teaches us.

And what does He use to cause these qualities to appear in us? Hard times of isolation and stress. In tough times – instead of running from them – it’s best to press into God, lean on Him and trust Him to lead through and beyond to the other side.

In God’s economy, a zigzag line is the shortest distance between two points.

Bill Lawrence

My friend, Natasha, has led a zigzag life in many ways. Traveling from place to place, finances running low, with unexpected roadblocks and difficulty plaguing her since childhood, she could easily fall into self-pity. But her stories usually circle around to the fact that she is learning to trust God in the macro as well as the micro, the seen as well as the unseen.

God has each of us in a unique place, in just the right moment of time and in the exact family that is best for us. Of course it’s hard, everywhere is hard, but we were not put on this earth simply to have a joy fest.

I was walking outside the other day enjoying the beautiful sunshine when I heard some whirring wings above my head. I looked up and saw a large flock of birds, starlings I think. These amazing birds were doing acrobatics as if they had trained and practiced. They would swoop up vertically for a short time then perform a circular pattern, immediately straighten out and fly as if on a racetrack. Then just as I thought they would continue on out of sight they swooped down for a bit and returned toward me as if they were performing an intricately choreographed routine simply for my pleasure. There wasn’t a single collision of birds as they flew in split-second precision.

How did each one of those tiny birds know when the group was going to do their maneuvers? I just stood there amazed as I watched them perform for me, then finally took off to give someone else a fascinating show.

When I consider the remarkable wisdom and creativity of God to gift small, seemingly insignificant birds with the ability to fly such intricate drills, I marvel. Then I think, If Jesus choreographs their lives and flight patterns so perfectly I can rest assured that He is doing the same for me and you – zig zags and all.

Love, Mom

Lecrae

January 16, 2017 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

I love reading stories about people – especially autobiographies – because I believe that truth is stranger and often more interesting than fiction. Although you know I am a C S Lewis junkie, devoted to the Chronicles of Narnia, I almost equally love to read about other people’s real life adventures.

Anyway, I just finished Unashamed by Lecrae, a musician who happens to be a rapper. I have long enjoyed his music and have always been curious about his story, which has been just recently published. His memoir is vulnerable and honest. Few people would be willing to open the pages of their lives to the public like he has.

Although many may see the life of Lecrae simply as a Boy in the Hood to riches story, it is mostly about confession and a desire to love better. It’s his story about not fitting in anywhere – not in the hood where he grew up, not around the gangstas in his family, not in college, and not even in the music industry.

Growing up without a daddy, sexually abused at age 6 by his babysitter, physically abused by his mom’s boyfriends, he grew up in a culture encouraging hardness and machismo. So, of course, like anyone else with an experience of rejection, abandonment, insignificance and insecurity, he lived out what he had learned so well. Abuse begets abuse, violence creates more violence. He naturally became an instigator of many acts of anger and rage. Seeds were sown in him as a child and started bearing much fruit.

While in college, Lecrae faced the familiar frustrations of young adults who go away to a place with daring opportunities and like many others, abused his freedoms. Hoping that because he was physically distanced from his childhood neighborhoods, his emotional past would be left behind as well. But he soon learned that life’s early experiences don’t go away. They are like wounds, and just like wounds not treated, they simply grow and fester.

At college he was befriended by various Christians, causing him to be intrigued by their peace and joy – something he had never experienced. He invited Jesus into his life, but soon was caught back up again into the old life he had lived. It was certainly not a happily ever after relationship with God.

What amazed him, though, was that those same Christians reached out to him even when he went back to his old addictions and self-destructive ways of living.

Lecrae shines a light on the dark struggles of faith we’d rather keep hidden. Tottering between the temptations and memories of his old life and the periodic peace he would feel from his newfound faith, there was always someone who would challenge him back to Jesus, continue to encourage him in spite of his anger and inability to change on his own. For years, he continued slipping back into the mind-numbing drugs and alcohol he had depended on for so long.

Music, and specifically hip-hop, was obviously his gift – it had been the language of his entire life. As a young man, he found comfort in writing and rapping – trying to make sense of all the mess in his life. So he kept on rapping and writing with honesty, and little by little Lecrae experienced the grace of God. It was something he had heard about as a child from his Gramma (Big Momma), and finally found that it truly existed as God had promised, and it changed his heart completely.

Lecrae bravely started rapping about his failings, his struggles and his doubts. Because of his honesty and exposing his dark side, his music attracts others with the same stories. He gives people hope that their lives can be changed as well. There is absolutely no one who is outside of Jesus’ incredible reach of grace.

Even though Lecrae is a well-known name in the rap world, he still doesn’t quite fit anyone’s mold. He is now, just like he felt as a child:

An outsider.

A misfit.

An anomaly.

I think many of us, myself included, feel like an anomaly – human but distinct, not fitting in any specific mold, a follower of Christ but still not a cookie-cutter person. I think that’s how God means us to be. We are each unique, different skin color, different views, diverse backgrounds and cultures, different stories. But we all have the same need in our heart – in need of respect and healing, knowing that we are beloved of God and yet still terribly broken. As Lecrae recently said in a blog post:

Hang out with me long enough and I’ll let you down.

We are all at a different place on the continuum of life, and Lecrae’s story has reminded me to never ever write anyone off, as dark as their life may look at any particular point in time. God’s fingerprints cover all of our lives – our husband’s and children’s lives – and just like snowflakes they are unique, creative and distinct in each of our stories.

Before he goes on a concert stage he always gathers his team around to pray:

Father, allow us to use our gifts to paint an accurate picture of Your creativity and Your goodness tonight. Help us to stay out of the way of Your will being done. We want to play a role, but we don’t want to take the lead. We are extras in Your movie, but not the star of this show.

May we be humble.

May we be grateful.

May we be unashamed.

Amen.

Sounds like a good prayer for all of us to pray.

I don’t claim to understand God’s grace, it makes absolutely no sense to the rational, scientific human mind, but I know it’s true. Mostly because I have seen it at work in my life, Lecrae’s life, and yours.

Never give up and never let go of that priceless gift.

Love, Mom

Death is Not an Emergency

December 28, 2016 / Shari Baar / 6 Comments

Dear Daughters,

It’s quiet in the house.

We buried Grandma on a snowy blustery day with 25 mph winds howling around us, trying to keep Grandpa warm with blankets and grandchildren shielding him. When Dad, Grandpa and I pulled into the cemetery – late – the suburban carrying the casket had not yet arrived, icy roads slowing them down as well.

Grandma would have hated being out in that cold, she never walked outside if there was even the slightest breeze. But now there was no need to have her slippers on, not even a blanket. Her earth suit had been shed, just like a caterpillar slips out of its cocoon to become a butterfly. Grandma was no longer laying in the coffin, not needing that worn out, nonfunctioning body, but celebrating and enjoying her new, perfect warm home.

The graveside service was short, ending with the singing of

Praise God from whom all blessings flow

Praise Him all creatures here below

Praise Him all ye heavenly hosts

Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen

Later that evening, my mind wandered back to the past few months when Grandma’s mind was fading so rapidly. Toward the end, it was getting difficult, bizarre, unpredictable.

When the mind is being eaten away by disease, life doesn’t make sense. Sunlight, moonlight, every light of the day is confusion. Mealtimes make no sense because there is no hunger. She frequently asked to go home, asked where her husband was when he was sitting right next to her. Grandma often called for help, yet when I came there was nothing I could do to comfort her – holding her hand, talking to her, singing, praying – still she moaned.

There were many days I wanted to run away, far far away and not come back until it was all over. I had seen the geese flying south and longed to be carried on their backs, flying to warmer, more pleasant places. I’ve always wanted to run away when life becomes hurtful and hard, when I can’t fix or change anything, and this time it was intensified. There was only one reason I was able to stay here taking care of Grandma, and that because of a single verse in the Bible:

I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.

I would repeat that verse in my mind over and over again, hour after hour, day after day, week after week. I felt some small part of Mother Teresa’s pain:

There is such terrible darkness within me, as if everything was dead…I do not know how deeper will this trial go – how much pain and suffering it will bring to me. This does not worry me anymore. I leave this to Him as I leave everything else…Let Him do with me whatever He wants as He wants for as long as He wants if my darkness is light to some soul.

Then when I thought I could not take one step more, Hospice came. Yes, I had Dad’s help and other friends who helped, but still the bulk of the responsibility lay on me.

When Staci, the intake nurse, walked in the door – snow swirling around her – I could sense the compassion and the ray of light she brought to our home. She treated Grandma with such care and respect, giving her a swab of water when I was unable to get even a sip into her mouth. Staci was calm, professional, taking notes and contacting all the necessary people. Then she stopped to comment,

Death is not an emergency.

With that one sentence spoken, my body relaxed, I was able to breathe, drink up all the teaching and encouragement she gave and carry on.

A little after Staci left, Jean the RN came, teaching me how to administer morphine and other meds to give Grandma comfort so she could relax and lay and sleep. No one was dismayed with Grandma’s behavior, they simply accepted her as she was, willing to walk the last days with us.

Then another knock on the door and Chaplain John was there with his guitar. He came into the bedroom where Grandma lay, took out song sheets and a guitar and started boisterously singing Christmas carols. There were several people in the room with us, so we sang in the midst of weary tears, Grandpa leaning back against the wall, his eyes shut as he mouthed the words by memory.

We sang hymns of comfort – In the Garden, Be Thou My Vision, His Eye is On the Sparrow… John’s presence was not one of sorrow but of joy, assurance and peace.

Death is not an emergency.

Carolyn came to give Grandma a bath, treating her with respect, tenderness and dignity. She slept soundly that night. The next day Jean was back again, monitoring Grandma’s vital signs, answering my various questions and teaching me more about how to give comfort in the midst of dying.

That night you four daughters made a conference call, all of you living in different cities, and sang His Eye is on the Sparrow. When one voice would falter, another would pick up the melody and continue on. There were good-byes and I love you spoken all around. Even though by that time Grandma was in a coma, she still responded ever so feebly to the singing. I am sure she heard you and was blessed, as was I.

On the last day, there were people in the house coming to say good-bye, quietly, respectfully, helpfully. We took turns singing, praying, holding her hand, whispering our farewells.

The last minutes before death are messy, holy and painful. Yet when I was thinking later about those sacred moments I was reminded that the last few minutes before birth are the same – messy, holy, painful. In a way, Grandma was being birthed into a new world, a better world.

Everything good in life is hard.

As Grandma took her last breath and her chest lay still for the first time in 84 years, I gave thanks amidst tears that she was now free of pain, free of a cloudy mind, and best of all – safe in the arms of Jesus – her Savior and her Lord. Till we meet again…

Love, Mom

…and a time to die

December 10, 2016 / Shari Baar / 22 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Last night I watched Grandma take her last breath, held her hand and said good-bye.

Throughout the evening various members of the family were taking turns sitting, singing and praying with Grandma. It was obvious the end was near, the breathing becoming more shallow and fitful. During the past four days we have had so many beautiful memorable moments with our friends, our flesh and blood family along with our new-found Hospice family.

As Grandpa said, What would we do without family? That is a question I’m glad I won’t ever have to answer.

Grandpa was the first person to come into the room after Grandma passed. He had made the trip from the den to the bedroom, where she lay, countless times in the last few days. He would come in, gently touch her and walk out again.

When I told him she was gone he sat down next to her and crumpled. I have never seen Grandpa cry before but he sobbed, saying

It was too soon, It was too soon. I was supposed to go first…

When it comes to death we don’t have a choice. Thankfully we have a loving Heavenly Father who knows what is best for us; His timing, His ordering of every detail is impeccable.

I was just thinking tonight about the last words Grandma said to me before she fell into the final coma. Those words were

Thank you.

Her life was a life of gratitude, and those words were uttered by her countless times each day after every little thing I did for her during the past two years.

I thank God for her life, her legacy of music given to us as a family as well as countless sacrificing acts of love that she gave to everyone who came near.

Thank you, Mom, for your life. Enjoy the beautiful music you are experiencing right now with a clear mind and a sound body.

I love you.

Love, Mom

The eternal God is our refuge and underneath are the everlasting arms.

Deuteronomy 33:27

Bag of Rags

December 9, 2016 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

My friend, Ann, always makes me laugh. She is a storyteller extraordinaire, and somehow even sad stories end up funny when Ann is the narrator.

A few years ago in December, Ann prepared Christmas gifts for her and Ed’s employees, just as they do every Christmas. She carefully placed each employee’s bonus and gift inside brown paper bags. It is always Ed’s job to deliver the bags to the employees. Strangely, after distributing all the bags, he had one leftover. Ann knew she had the correct number of bags ready for Ed, so they were both wondering how he ended up with an extra gift bag.

So, Ed decided to call each employee personally and ask if he had received his Christmas gift. Yes, the first guy received his, and the next and the next. Finally he called the last guy, and his response was “What did I ever do to offend you?”

Ed and Ann’s daughter worked in a beauty salon and periodically brought hair-dye stained rags home to her dad because he could always find a use for them in the barn. Those rags were always brought home in a brown paper bag. Apparently, he had picked up that bag of rags with all the others and …. well, you can figure out the rest of the story.

Ann and I laughed and laughed, but on the way home I got thinking about the bags of rags we give to each other at one time or another.

About ten years ago, you and your families were at our house for a Christmas celebration. As our tradition has been for many years, every person has to hunt for one of their presents. We are all given 10 clues and at the end of the search a gift is the reward.

Well, this particular year I successfully got to the end of my ten clues and for whatever reason, the gift spot was empty. Immediately the words came into my mind:

Yep, this is always your life. You try hard, work hard, but there will never be any prize for you….

I put on a happy face and tried to laugh about it but inside I was weeping, hurt and trying not to believe those ugly words in my head. I knew the empty spot was not left deliberately that way, but it was still empty and the words ricocheted through my mind.

To be fair, this happened during a year I was going through menopause, rejection from people I loved, and a chronic illness. But whatever your back story is, hurts – either perceived or actual – always hurt.

We have all received rag bags of ugly, stained words from those we love, and we have all given bags of rags to those we love.

I have given many rag bags to Dad over the years– words said in anger, frustration and sometimes bitterness. Bags like “You always forget my birthday” (yes, a few times he did) or “You have lists but you don’t ever do them” (he does much of what is on his lists but not always what I want him to do). Some of the rag bags I have given to Dad have been deliberate, others have been unintentional.

It goes both ways. Dad has given me bags of rags as well, but since this blog comes from my perspective and not his I will refrain from speaking about those.

Because we live in a fallen world, offense comes often and intense. We cannot predict or control which bags of rags we are given, but we are responsible for our reaction to them.

We can believe those thoughts and words that are spoken and creep into our mind – that we are worthless, unlovable and a failure, that all our efforts are useless and wasted,

We can choose to believe that we are loved by God, a chosen, beautiful child of God. When we fail, when we hurt, when we pray for better relationships we can believe that He is for us and not against us. He is always working for our good. We can forgive and move on in our lives, knowing that Jesus never allows anything in our lives that will not make us stronger and more like Him.

When Jesus came down to earth many centuries ago, He came directly into our bag of rags. The world at that time was corrupt, brutal, dark, inhumane and heartless. Interestingly, he didn’t start explaining the rags and why they were there, He simply came into it (Immanuel – God with us) and showed us a way out. He presented a better way to live, the way of love even in the face of unjust tyrants and religious hypocrites.

When you are given a bag of rags, invite Jesus into it. His specialty is making good come out of suffering, righting wrongs, making all things new, and above all – teaching us to trust Him. When we love freely, forgive abundantly, and give those bags of rags to Him, we will find joy, freedom and contentment.

The employee who received the bag of rags that Christmas still carries the offense around with him. He hasn’t come to see it as an accident or even a humorous error from his employer. Of course, his bag was replaced with the intended beautiful Christmas gift, but he still hangs on to the rags in his mind.

Remember, remember that you can always get rid of those bags of rags and trade them in for a good gift.

Love, Mom

What a Friend….

November 20, 2016 / Shari Baar / 4 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Grandma is declining.

There are people all over the world who are failing today, there were yesterday, and will be tomorrow. Why does impending death not affect us unless it is someone we love, someone we have history with, someone who has deeply impacted our life?

The beautiful whistling that has been Grandma’s trademark for decades has now been replaced with moaning and groaning and cries of Oh Lord, help me, help me. Several months ago, she was able to play piano for an hour or more at one sitting. Today it was 5 minutes, then she needed a nap.

A few weeks ago, she accused me of waking her in the middle of the night to have tea time, asking Grandpa if I woke him up as well. She wanders around the house at 2 p.m. looking for her pajamas (which are hidden in my room so she doesn’t put them on mid-afternoon). She will often walk up to Grandpa and ask if he is her husband. She claims that everything around her is crazy and confusing and oftentimes asks to go home when she sitting in the very house she has lived for 36 years.

Going home.

I wonder if she is looking to go to her heavenly home, the place where her mind will be sound, her new glorious body whole and strong, and she will laugh again as I remember and am reminded by the pictures dotting the hallway wall.

As Madeliene L’Engle reflects, we die many small deaths during our lives:

Our lives are a series of births and deaths: we die to one period and must be born to another. We die to childhood and are born to adolescence; to our high school selves (and if we are fortunate) to our college selves; we die to our college selves and are born into the “real” world; to our unmarried selves and into our married.

When we have children, we die to ourselves as we give life to a totally new person. When we as a family moved from place to place we had to die to one way of life and be born into another place and community. When dad and I moved from Michigan to Idaho two years ago, it was yet another step in the dying to one way of life and being born into another.

There are other deaths over which we have some choice and freedom: we can choose the death of self-will, the death of self-indulgence, the death of self and the living for others. It is through dying these lesser deaths that may make us more fully alive, not less.

Maybe if we practice these smaller deaths during our lifetime it will make the actual moment of our transition less difficult. On the other hand, there is nothing that will make death easy. Even though dying is natural and happens to everyone, it still stinks.

Yesterday my friends Betty and Theresa came over to practice a trio we will be singing soon – the words of What a Friend We Have in Jesus to the tune of The Rose.

For the past few days I had been having a difficult time doing my work here, the emotions of the end-of-life care weighing heavily. But singing those words with friends helped my spirit to soar, reminding me again about the necessity of giving my griefs to Jesus. They are not mine to bear alone:

What a friend we have in Jesus,

All our sins and griefs to bear

What a privilege to carry

Everything to God in prayer

Oh, what peace we often forfeit

Oh, what needless pain we bear

All because we do not carry

Everything to God in prayer.

I consciously talk to Jesus throughout the day, but sometimes I need people to help carry the load by singing with me, coming for lunch, stopping to chat, listening to stories – some funny, some sad, some frustrating. Even though I have Dad to help with the work – staying behind while I go away, shopping, listening to and encouraging me – I need more. I need a community.

Thankfully, God has provided for us. Yes, it is still lonely at times but we all have those times, the simple nature of being human. I am grateful to you, my daughters, for your part in lending me your ears, your time, prayers and encouragement.

Dad brought Grandma into the living room yesterday while Betty, Theresa and I were practicing. She sat quietly, her face expressionless throughout the entire song. After we finished she shouted out Amen! the best applause we could have been given.

I admit in the past when friends of mine have shared with me the end-of-life stories of their parents, I had listened but not really understood what dying is all about. Now, however, Jesus is graciously teaching me how to care, not only for Grandpa and Grandma, but to feel the pain of others going through similar times.

At night, I often tuck Grandma in bed and pray Psalm 23 over her. After I finished the other night she asked,

What is your name?

I replied, Shari.

She said Thank you, Shari.

Even though she doesn’t remember who I am, she is appreciative for all I do most of the time. Sometimes, however, when I get her up to walk the hall a few times she calls me a slave driver – in jest I hope. Just a few weeks ago, she was able to walk all the way down the lane and back.

We may have months, maybe less, with Grandma – no one knows. In the meantime, Dad pointed out this verse to me the other day and it brings me comfort:

It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting,

For death is the destiny of every man;

The living should take this to heart. Ecclesiastes 7:2

It is good to keep eternity in the forefront of my mind. I think it helps me live better today.

Love, Mom

Branches and Trees

Page 13 of 20

A Curse

A Trio of Weakness

Remembering…

Happy Wives Club

The Zig Zag Life

Lecrae

Death is Not an Emergency

…and a time to die

Bag of Rags

What a Friend….

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