Page 14 of 20

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

Clod Picking and the Election

October 17, 2016 / Shari Baar / 4 Comments

Dear Daughters,

A late summer job after my junior year in high school was titled Clod Picker. As you might guess, I was involved with the potato harvest in Idaho. The job went like this: A huge potato harvester was brought into the field of ripe potatoes. On top of the harvester was a conveyer belt bringing up stones, dirt clods, sand and potatoes from the land beneath us. My primary job was to discern which were potatoes and which weren’t and toss out the latter. Difficult as it was to determine the difference between those objects, I must have caught on quickly because Mr. Hohnhorst kept me on for the entire harvest – great job security.

Oddly enough, as I watch the election process in our country I am reminded of my summer job decades ago. I am saddened, not only by our choice of candidates but the judgment and blame that is being tossed from side to side.

I have read many op-eds from all viewpoints and I lament that we Christians are sounding way too much like the world.

As I remember, Jesus never criticized or condemned Caesar Augustus, Herod, Pontius Pilate, or any other governing leaders of His time. I also don’t recollect any time when we as the church are instructed to go out and ridicule, debase, or mock our leaders.

Jesus never disparaged the barbaric Roman government in which He was under authority. He never said, Those Romans, they are the most unjust, deplorable people ever. There is racism, no respect for life, our taxes are out of control, in fact that older Herod even ran my family out of the country when I was a baby. He wanted to kill me!

Jesus knew He belonged to another kingdom and was under the authority of His Father the King. He obediently prayed for wisdom and went about doing good as the Son of God.

I wonder what this world would look like if instead of judging, slandering and dissecting every news clip, we prayed for those in authority over us as instructed in the letter to Timothy:

I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession, and thanksgiving be made for everyone – for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. 1 Timothy 2:1-2

And also in the letter to Titus:

Remind the people to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready to do whatever is good, to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and to show true humility toward all men. Titus 3:1-2

I am continually amazed at the hate, trash talk, and arrogance in many videos, FB posts and articles that abound. It seems like we are bent on destroying each other, ripping apart and dividing our country from within.

And, of course, how does any country/business/church/family/marriage fall apart? From within. Bickering, slander, gossip, ridicule, distrust and judgment.

If you read the history of Rome, Russia, Israel, and any other country that has collapsed, you will find that people became decadent, each person doing what was right in his own eyes, paying no attention to the law of the land, but only demanding their rights, not taking responsibility for themselves or others.

Whenever absolute truth (right and wrong) is lost, everyone becomes their own god, making up the rules as they go. What feels good and makes me happy is the only barometer by which to measure living.

The natural end of such is anarchy, resulting in totalitarianism. The masses of people are deemed unworthy of making good choices so there is chaos, which gives rise easily to a dictator to control people who are out of control.

In the early primary stages of the Presidential election there were many fine men and women from which to choose on either ticket. They were people of character, of honesty, simplicity and substance. But here we are today, and many are mad. Mad enough to not vote at all.

I am reminded of a quote by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr:

The real problem is that through our scientific genius we’ve made of the world a neighborhood, but through our moral and spiritual genius we’ve failed to make of it a brotherhood.

Now as Christians, if we are a part of another Kingdom – the Kingdom of Heaven – shouldn’t we behave differently than the ways of the kingdom of the United States of America?

I believe that Solomon, King of Israel back around 950 B.C., although a flawed human being just like all of us, had the wisdom of God revealed to him in a dream when He spoke the following:

If my people, who are called by my name, shall humble themselves and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and heal their land. 2 Chronicles 7:14

So, if we are truly followers of Jesus, the first thing we need to do is to humble ourselves. God will not humble us, He may bring about circumstances to help with that, but we need to deliberately humble ourselves under His authority.

Turn from our wicked ways. I was quite offended when I first read that verse many years ago. I thought, I’m not wicked, that’s those other people who are violent, murderers, drug dealers, child molesters… How can a child of God be wicked?

Any 12-step program will require that you take an honest assessment about yourself. So I read the list of things God is displeased with: haughty eyes, greed, gluttony, gossip, a lying tongue, slanderers…. I was guilty and saw many of those attributes in myself.

In fact, true religion, says James, is caring for the orphans and the widows, the outcast, the foreigner, the poor and forgotten.

Pray and seek the face of God. That doesn’t just sound like good moral living, does it? It means to continually pray for wisdom in our every word, action, and attitude. There are people all around us who are lonely, discouraged, weak, hopeless and despairing. If we are followers of Jesus, we are required to treat others with kindness, grace and respect. In others, we see the face of God.

If we truly took our faith seriously, we would not have time to criticize, demonize, or judge those who do not think like or act like us.

The most amazing thing about this verse, though, is the ending. It says if we do humble ourselves, confess our sins, turn from our wicked ways and seek God’s face,

He Will Heal Our Land.

OK, now I’m thinking you are saying sure, that is going to heal America? Don’t we have other things we can do that will help more?

Remember Gideon, the obscure weakling written about in the book of Judges? It certainly is not a well-known story, but amazing nonetheless.

As the story goes, an angel came to Gideon one night and said “Hail Mighty Warrior!” Gideon looked around wondering who the angel was talking to, because he replied, Oh, I am from the weakest clan of Israel and I am the youngest in my family.

God told him to get an army together to fight their enemies, the Midianites- who had been oppressing the Israelites for years. Gideon turned up with 32,000 men. The enemy armies numbered 135,000.

True to God’s character, he said Gideon’s army was too large and began to pare it down. After sending away 22,000 men who were afraid and fearful, Gideon ended up with 10,000 to the enemies’ 135,000, so now they were outnumbered by only 13 to 1.

Again God said there were too many in the army, so he cut it back to 300. Now that is a ratio of 1 to 450. Impossible, I would think, to win a battle. But when the battle started, God caused the Midianites to flee in confusion and destroy each other. Gideon’s army won – a completely unexpected outcome given the ratio between the armies.

That’s how our God does battle.

Now, back to the clod-picking job. My work was to hold on to the potatoes, not keep throwing the dirt and sand and rocks around at my fellow workers. What I see is dirt, accusations, tweets, rocks, retweets, talking heads, videos, sand, and much else flying around.

Hold on to the good, do good, humble yourself, pray, turn from evil…..

Try to remember – We are in a wrestling match between good and evil. But our struggle is not against flesh and blood, it is against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

I wonder – if we all started humbling ourselves, confessing our sins, praying for those in authority and caring for the weak – what change would occur in our country?

I’m willing to do my part, will you join me?

Love, Mom

Cracked Pots

October 11, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Your cousin Charlene gave me a cracked piece of pottery she made a few months ago. Although it is still quite beautiful, the flaw makes it unmarketable in her shop. People want only items that are close to perfection.

Unfortunately, we tend to expect the same in people. But as we all know, we’re not going to get it. We inevitably desire faultlessness (or at least improvement) in our husbands and ourselves, yet time and time again we get hurt, disappointed, wanting more.

We bear the desire of our once shimmering selves that lived in the Garden of Eden. The desire for perfection, which our human mother and father once were, still lives within us. At the end of the age we shall be perfect, as our Lord is perfect. Until then we bear the marks of the fall.

So…how do we deal with the cracks in ourselves and others?

The following story is a beautiful image of our value despite brokenness:

A water bearer in India had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of a long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.

I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.

“Why,” asked the bearer, “what are you ashamed of?”

I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half of my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work and you don’t get full value from your efforts, the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said,

“As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers on the side of the path,” and this cheered it somewhat. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot,

“Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

We are all cracked pots, whether we like to admit it or not. Some of our flaws are more obvious than others’, but Jesus uses them all if we are willing to admit the cracks are there, then give ourselves to Him to use in His wisdom.

How often do we get angry, despise them or try to cover them up?

For years I saw the chronic fatigue I struggle with as a detriment, a waste of time, an annoyance and a burden to others. Over the years Jesus has opened my eyes to be content with my disability, seeing it as a gift from Him. I had to learn that I needed to be humbled – allowing Dad to care for me, learning to intercede and showing compassion to others who don’t have fit bodies, having lots of time to read and talk with people. I didn’t have the energy to be efficient or busy. I have found what has been better for me – to lay at the feet of Jesus, give thanks, and learn from Him.

One day I thought about the disability Jesus took on when He came to earth – the humility of having to live in a suit of flesh when He was used to roaming throughout the universe, bringing into existence galaxies, mountains, insects and people by using only His words. It was certainly not a waste of His time coming to earth – we needed Him. He became broken because His father willed it, for a greater purpose.

I am learning the grace of yielding to His will, trusting that He will get done whatever He needs to do in my life.

He has given me strength to do what I have to do, no extra energy. But you know what? It’s OK.

Thank God for your cracks, your less than perfect body, your weaknesses, and He will do marvelous things.

From one cracked pot to another,

Love, Mom

Photo by Kari Matthews

What Do I Do?

September 23, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

February 28, 2023

During the snowstorm last week I was thinking about Grandma as she was nearing the end of her life. It’s been over six years since she’s been gone, but the memories are still vivid in my mind. I learned so much from her as she lived in weakness and confusion…

September 15, 2016

Dear Daughters,

The other night Dad invited Grandma to dance with him after dinner. Almost every night after we have cleared the dishes she asks “What do I do next?” And almost every night Dad’s answer is “Dance with me.”

So he put his arm around her shoulder and started doing the quasi-Rockettes kick while she stared at him in disbelief. Grandma looked over at me and said “You live with this guy? I think I’ll send you a sympathy card.”

The same after-dinner conversation happens often, but of course she doesn’t remember that it happens often.

Grandma asks many times every day

What do I do, what do I do?

She simply needs direction and instruction about what comes next in her day since she wanders if left on her own.

One day I came into the den when she was waking from her nap. She was almost in tears saying,

Lord, what do I do, what do I do?

Confusion reigns in her mind as it has become tangled and disobedient to her commands and desires. But as I was walking away I thought,

What a beautiful picture of what we should be doing every minute of every day. I cannot live my one life well unless I am connected with Jesus, always asking Him,

What do I do?

when I am confused, frustrated and unsure of how to respond to a hurtful word or a discouraging day.

Whenever I ask God

What should I do?

the answer is typically

Trust Me. Give thanks because I am working for your good,

even when it seems there is darkness is all around.

During the day I have many tasks for Grandma to do: water the flowers, empty the dishwasher, put tomatoes on the dehydrator trays, walk down to the road, fold clothes, set the table, take a shower, play the piano, whistle her favorite songs. When I instruct her to do the work she is usually eager, although with a few moans and groans now and then. But if there is no direction from me she has no idea where to go or what to do. If I am out of her sight for more than a few minutes I hear her calling

Help! Help!

Grandma’s confusion has recently taken a new twist. She is often quite mixed up about the time of day. Yesterday I heard her walking down the hall at 2:00 in the afternoon (when she is usually napping), shuffling in her bathrobe and slippers and wearing no dentures. She apparently woke from her nap early and somehow thought it was close to bedtime so proceeded to get ready.

I stopped her in the hallway, asking why she was in her pajamas. She matter-of-factly said “It’s almost bedtime.” I suggested that we go back and change into her clothes since it was a long time until bedtime. I tried showing her the clock and reasoning with her, but she still wouldn’t believe me, continually insisting that it was bedtime.

Normally she is quite compliant and will cheerfully do as I say. But yesterday she adamantly said

I don’t want to change my clothes, just let me do what I want to do.

Hmmm, now that sounds exactly what I say to God now and then. I get tired of waiting for Him to answer my prayers the way I want Him to. Sometimes I get weary of doing what is right, of being responsible. Some days I want to whine and complain, throw a pity party. I am tempted to give up and pray no longer.

But the same verse always comes to me – the time many of Jesus’ disciples turned back and no longer followed Him when life started getting difficult. Jesus asked the Twelve “Do you want to leave too?” Then Peter answered him,

Lord, to whom else shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.

Yep, that’s the bottom line. Who else but the Creator of your soul loves you and is looking out for your good and your growth? So I cut short my pity party, continue to be faithful and responsible, keep on praying and giving God thanks. They are simple disciplines, but important.

Grandma teaches me so much these days. Even though her mind is foggy and forgetful, Jesus speaks through her life into mine.

Look to the weak people of the earth, wisdom is there for us all.

Love, Mom

Don’t Drop the Baton

August 30, 2016 / Shari Baar / 1 Comment

Dear Daughters,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The clincher is always the handoff of the baton.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hebrews 12:1-2

Love, Mom

Blue Shirt

August 12, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Broken together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love, Mom

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

There Is A Way Things Work

August 2, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Have you ever noticed that there is a way things work?

When babies are little they love gravity. I remember you dropping small toys, food, spoons and a variety of other objects from your high chair and watching them with interest. They always fell down, never up.

When you are driving down an 8% grade you will be using your brakes….a lot. Even if you don’t believe in gravity, that’s the way it works. It’s a law of nature and it’s permanent.

In math, 3 + 4 = 7; 7(3 + 11) = 98 and, of course, a million other equations are black and white. You may not like it, but they are facts and nothing will change it.

There are laws of physics. I took one semester of college physics which was plenty for me, but I did learn there are natural laws in the universe: the regularity of the ocean tides, the consistent orbits of all the planets. Earth is predictable as the sun comes up every morning, constellations and star clusters can be followed diligently and predictably. Once in awhile I become frustrated about the sun being so scheduled – sometimes I would like a day to last longer, sometimes shorter.

photo by Kari Matthews

But, there is a way things work.

When mechanical engineers invent, design and fashion a machine, they send directives along to their customers, which they expect to be used. I have heard that engineers get quite annoyed when companies don’t use the apparatus according to the directions, then call and complain that something is wrong with the #*&!% machine.

There is a way things work

and if we don’t follow instructions we are destined for anger, irritation and frustration.

I have recently been revisiting a book I read over a decade ago, an old friend of mine: Victory Over the Darkness by Neil T. Anderson. Do you ever do that? Remember with affection the things you learned and the stories that were within the books you read long ago?

Well…lately I have been in the criticizing mode with Dad and the section that caught my attention was specifically how criticism is not advantageous to a good marriage.

Shocker.

Yes, I have known in my head for years that this is true, yet my mouth sometimes blurts words out that are hurtful, judgmental, and unfair.

I was reminded once again about how it’s not my job to change my husband. It’s so much easier to keep my eyes on Dad and see the faults that lie within, instead of keeping my eyes on Jesus and seeking to change myself, letting Him do the work that needs to be done in Dad.

Here is a verse that is not well known but should become so:

Who are you to judge the servant of another? To his own master he stands or falls; and stand he will, for the Lord is able to make him stand. Romans 14:4

In other words: Get out of the way so God can do his work. It is not my job to judge Dad’s character or the things he does. I have no idea (well, I have some) why he does the things that he does, but my opinions are not the important thing here.

I am not responsible for Dad’s character, nor he for mine. In fact, my only job is:

Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind let each of you regard one another as more important than himself. Philippians 2:3

Now that’s hard to do.

We live in a narcissistic society, taught to look out for our own interests only. Our culture tells us that marriage is to make me happy. If my spouse doesn’t agree and try to make me happy, it’s time to find someone else.

Yes, we can choose to live like that but our marriage will certainly crumble and fail. That’s why the divorce rate is over 50% in our country.

There is a way things work.

On the other hand, God’s way (He is the Creator of marriage, you know) is to humble ourselves and meet the needs of our husbands while we look to God to meet our needs. As we do that He will shape and mold our character.

There is a way things work.

But that calls for getting our eyes off ourselves. We need to surrender to our Creator, just like the customers of the engineers need to surrender to the instructions that come with their machines.

Part of our instruction manual (The Bible) tells us that we have an enemy who is diabolically opposed to marriage. Satan is always out to divide and conquer. He hates love, he hates forgiveness and apologies and he hates you. Some of his major strategies are to cause hopelessness (this marriage will never get better), promote blame, and squelch apologies.

This world is not a playground, it is a battlefield.

We must be vigilant in our love, in our dependence on Jesus and in following the instruction manual He has given us.

Last week you and your families helped Dad and I celebrate our marriage of 40 years. Forty years of faithfulness, commitment, hurts, anger, sometimes being ready to bail and forget the vows, forgiveness, yet trusting that our mutual love for Jesus would carry us through.

You have seen the hardships we’ve experienced, the anger we have had with each other; you’ve also seen the joy, laughter and love that we have shared. Because our marriage started with vows to God and each other we were able to stay faithful even in the midst of tumultuous times.

There is a way things work,

and if both partners in a marriage live by God’s principles of love, putting our husbands’ needs before our own and trusting that God will do His good work in His time, marriages will not only last, but also point to and glorify God’s faithfulness.

I am so grateful that all of you have been faithful to your husbands in the good times and bad. I have listened to your heartbreaks and times of struggle – and there are many – but you have remained faithful and have chosen to do things God way, and for that I give thanks. Continue to fight the good fight of faith.

Love, Mom

Beauty from Ashes

June 30, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Twenty-four years ago on July 4 Uncle Steve took his own life.

A little over a year ago I met Ruth, my neighbor down the lane, born just a few months before Uncle Steve died. Ruth and I have shared laughter, life stories, recipes, tears, and a love for life – most of the time. However, we have both been through dark periods, depression and at times a temptation to end life here on earth.

Ruth is honest, funny, creative, the loving wife of James and mother of 3-year-old Jacob and also a delightful soul sister of mine. She has lived in Pennsylvania, Georgia, Samoa, Hawaii, Montana and is now braving the 100 degree days of Idaho. She brings me broth when I’m sick, helps care for Grandma and Grandpa, and has built a tiny house on wheels.

Today I welcome Ruth to Branches and Trees, sharing her journey from depression and the lure of suicide – to joy.

Love, Mom

Post and Paintings

by Ruth

I recently noticed that in the first few pages of the phone book, there is a section with emergency numbers. It’s not a very long list, but among them is a suicide hot line. Did you know that people want you to live? Suicide is something so troubling to others that there are people waiting by telephones 24 hrs. a day to help you stay alive.

I write today not because this is a subject I enjoy, but because I simply can not keep silent. I feel compelled to reach out in this small way and perhaps touch someone’s life and shed light into their darkness. If you stumbled on this blog because you are having suicidal thoughts and are seeking help, I’m glad you’ve come . Maybe you are ashamed that you are having these thoughts. Perhaps it is your deepest darkest secret that no one knows about. You may have just gone through some traumatic experience and wish to never see the light of day again. Whatever the case, suicidal thoughts are very, very real and painful. You can’t run away from them. Reading this may make you feel even worse, but I think that the first step towards recovering from suicidal urges is to recognize that they are what they are, and realize that you have a problem. My heart aches for you and I wish that I could somehow relieve you of your pain, but I can’t. However, I want to share with you some things that I have found helpful in dealing with this scary and painful issue.

A little bit of my story…

I have often questioned why I have experienced suicidal urges and found myself depressed. I mean, I can think of many things in this world that are horrifying, but they don’t actually affect my personal life. I am surrounded by loving people, yet somehow convincing myself that I should not be depressed doesn’t cut it. I have had bouts of depression and suicidal urges since I was a child, and often spent nights filled with paranoia, nightmares, and discouragement. As I navigated through my teen years I bottled everything up inside and shared nothing of my desire to end my life. In fact it may have appeared that I had it all together pretty well for a teenager. Still, I was lonely and depressed. There was one very special friend who listened to my heartache, but still did not know of my darkest moments. Now I find myself happily married to a loving and caring husband. We have the cutest little boy you have ever seen, and on top of all of that we have a most loving and loyal dog.

Things really started to escalate for me right after our son was born. Perhaps this would have been considered post-partum depression, but since I had experienced depressive times in the past, it was not alarmingly unusual. My husband knew that I would get depressed from time to time, but I was so ashamed to share that sometimes I had suicidal thoughts. Here I was at the happiest time of life, blessed with so much, but yet there were times when the waves of depression would come crashing down over me, envelop me, and make me cry out for relief. Your situation is most likely much different than mine, but I share all of this to point out that depression and suicidal feelings can afflict any of us for seemingly no good reason.

Depression can be caused by so many things and any one can feel it. In fact everyone on this earth has probably felt down a time or two. This is normal, however it is not normal to find yourself in a place of despair frequently and for it to take you to a place of wanting to end your life. It becomes exhausting to visit these desperate moments over and over again.

Coping

Learning to cope with difficult situations is a wonderful skill to have. When you break a bone you learn to cope with a temporary disability as you wait for your body to heal. After your body heals you continue to be more cautious, being careful not to stress the wounded area so that you regain complete strength and mobility. Coping alone does not mend the broken bone, but certainly aids in the recovery. In the same way, learning to cope with your depression and suicidal feelings can lead you to a place of healing and peace.

Here are some practical ways of learning to cope:

First of all, when you are in the middle of those overwhelming episodes, assure yourself that this will not go on forever. You’ve had these feelings before, and they eventually passed. In the scriptures Psalm 30:5 says “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” At times I have thought of this verse and found it to be encouraging to continue on, knowing things will get better. Recovering from an experience like this is not impossible, so just staying calm or literally sleeping it out can bring you to a better place. Tell someone about what is going on. Sometimes it is hard to trust others when you are this depressed, but think back to a time when you felt good and remember the person you were with then. Go to that person and just let them in a little bit. Express your feelings. Keep in mind this can be really scary news for them to hear, but it is better to let someone help bear your burden then slowly crumble under the pressure of it alone. If you don’t share what is going on with those you are closest with, don’t fool yourself in to thinking that avoiding the problem will actually keep it from affecting you and those you love. When we are depressed and suicidal we are capable of acting and doing things that are hurtful to those around us, sometimes unknowingly. We are not ourselves, and we tend to act out of character.

Second of all, if your times of depression tend to stretch over the span of several days or weeks you must learn to take care of yourself during this time. Let me be really simple here, you must eat, sleep, and most likely you have a job to do. If you are a new mother like me, you simply must take care of your child even if you are depressed. How does one do this?

There are several simple things that I found helpful.

Get plenty of rest. Even if you are not taking care of a new baby still your body needs rest. Depression is very stressful for our bodies, and sleep can help to alleviate that. Set some very simple goals for the day. Make a list that goes something like this:

Shower and get dressed in the morning

Make a smoothie

Go outside for half an hour

Put the dirty clothes in the hamper

This can help you to focus on something else and cause the time to pass more quickly.

Another idea is to choose activities that will not only give you something to do, but will do good in someone else’s life. Thinking of others is sometimes a very enlightening thing to do, because often you come to realize that others are struggling too. This can help you to not focus on yourself constantly. During the times that you are depressed, finding ways to normalize your day is super helpful. Even though being depressed makes you feel pretty bad about yourself and you may want to neglect things that make you feel better, try to just do the basic stuff. Sometimes even this can feel impossible to do, but once you start taking little baby steps it becomes easier.

Depression comes in waves. Celebrate when the tide pulls back and seize that moment to look in to the faces of those you love and appreciate them. Take that moment and venture to an activity that you enjoy. Enjoy and savor those moments and remind yourself that there will be more of them. Sometimes this can help to keep the waves from sweeping back over you.

In the times when you are able to see the sunshine and appreciate the good around you, take the time to research and observe yourself. Step back and look at your situation. Pinpointing something that seems to bring on depression and later leads to suicidal thoughts can help you steer away from that particular activity or person. Perhaps your diet is lacking in foods that help promote wellness of mind and body. Maybe your living situation is very dismal. Here in the northwest people can get really depressed because of the lack of sunshine in the winter. Do you have goals that you are pursuing? Or is your life a monotonous stream of uninteresting events. Sometimes life does just seem like a bunch of nothingness; but, if you have just one thing that you day dream about, one thing that you enjoy, or one all consuming goal, you may find yourself happy to go about your daily chores and not find them discouraging because your main interest is elsewhere.

Consider the obvious. Did you just give birth, have some big life change, lose someone you loved? These things are hard on anyone, so don’t beat yourself up because you are not responding perfectly. Study up on supplements and herbs. Look into making dietary changes that might help. There are of course drugs that can help mask the symptoms of depression, and there are professionals whose job is to help people navigate life’s challenges and provide support and advise. The point is, there are things that can be done to help you recover and live a normal and happy life.

A little experiment I did on myself proved to be quite helpful. In an effort to look at the reality of my depression I made a quick spreadsheet and wrote all sorts of feelings at the top:

Joy, Sadness, Happiness, Overwhelmed, Hopeless, Depressed, Suicidal, Contented, Satisfied, Peaceful, Hopeful.

For one month I tracked each of these feelings and documented all the feelings I felt each day. Sure there were some days I felt super low all day, but there were many days where I would swing from one end to the other end of the spectrum. This was quite revealing and although it was sad to look at how many times I had checked the box under “depressed” it was amazing to see how many days I had also felt joyful and contented. Sometimes when you feel so down all you can remember are the many, many times before you have felt just this way, and lose sight of the times even quite recently you were doing well.

The most amazing insight I gained from this experiment was that these were all just feelings engulfed in a swarm of emotions. Feelings is all they are. They alone do not have the power to destroy me.

Psalm 23 is a beautiful Psalm, but until recently it had no personal meaning to me. Vs 24 says “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me.” When we are in those dark, low times we are not alone. We can turn to Jesus knowing that he will not ever leave us, He will carry us through.

Curious and curiouser

June 7, 2016 / Shari Baar / 6 Comments

Dear Daughters,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smile.

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

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

“No, it’s me, Shari,” I smiled.

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

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

“Good,” I answered.

“What did you do while we were gone?”

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

“You’re kidding!” she exclaimed.

“Nope, it was me all along.”

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

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

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

Keep on keeping on….

Love, Mom

Branches and Trees

Page 14 of 20

Bag of Rags

What a Friend….

Clod Picking and the Election

Cracked Pots

What Do I Do?

Don’t Drop the Baton

Blue Shirt

There Is A Way Things Work

Beauty from Ashes

Post and Paintings

by Ruth

A little bit of my story…

Coping

Curious and curiouser

Archives

Recent Posts

Recent Posts

Recent Comments

Stories and Songs

Meta

Archives

Categories