Today is Memorial Day, a day of remembering. One of the great wonders in God’s creation of humans is that He built into us the capacity to do just that—to remember.
That falls under the heading of our being made in His image. God remembers; and fortunately for us, God forgets. “He remembers we are dust…” and He “remembers your sins no more.” (A terrific bible study is what God says to remember and what He says to forget)
The all-knowing Father, in creation, shared with us His gifts of remembering and forgetting. May we always use those gifts for good and never confuse them!
“They remembered that God was their rock, that God Most High was their redeemer.” Psalm 78:35
“But they deliberately forget that long ago by God's word the heavens existed and the earth…” 2 Peter 3:5
You would no doubt agree that remembering may be a sweet blessing or a painful nightmare. Often, it is a combination of the two. I find that combination true for me today as I am remembering the birth of our second child, a beautiful son and, at the same time, remembering his death eight days later.
That was over three decades ago, but the hole inside is still just as real, just as fresh, and just as painful. There were three more precious babies (as well as wonderful grandchildren) sent to us which have brought great joy. Yet, nothing can fill that one particular hole. Furthermore, that’s the way I want it to stay. You see, there are other holes in my soul from the loss of people in my life, and each hole is special as it reminds me of a love that blessed my life.
Today, I remember Kevin ♥
♫ “This is not at all how
We thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for you
We had so many dreams
And now you've gone away
And left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say
And nothing we can do
Can take away the pain
The pain of losing you, but ...
We can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope
There's a place by God's grace
Where we'll see your face again
So we can cry with hope
And say goodbye with hope
We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope
We’ll see your face again.” ♫
With Hope by Stephen Curtis Chapman
Monday, May 31, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Confessions of a Facebooker
I have become a fan of Facebook, and I admit it even though there are those who, well, who shake their head in disbelief toward those of us who are. Generally, they are too kind to express their real attitude but rather say something like, “Oh, I don’t have time for things like THAT” (emphasizing the last word).
Nevertheless, reading short snippets from other’s lives reaches in and touches my heart as I learn that they, too, are going through struggles, joys, doubts, fears, laughter, tears, and, of course, questions. Oh, I know there is fluff to overlook like someone having a BLT for lunch or how they found butter on sale. Furthermore, there are a bunch of game “applications”. Some love them; some hate them. It’s easy to hide any we find annoying. I'm also aware that everyone should use discretion about information posted.
Often, the posts reveal a morsel of the writer’s life. Us Facebookers (as I’m thinking do most humans) seem to have a need to 1) share our thoughts, avoiding the isolation that looms so easily in our minds, and 2) have a hope that someone “gives a hoot.” Whether we live by ourself or in a crowded home, we can feel very alone and unattached. With Facebook, we’re attached.
We know this because occasionally there is the confirmation from another Facebooker as they “comment” (respond to a post). That comment may well represent the nodding smile or the pat on the arm we have needed. Someone was there. Someone cared.
Every now and then, a Facebooker will make an extremely clever post. I can’t speak for others, but my response is always the same, “I wish I would have thought of that!” I would love to be clever, but I’ll settle for being able to share snippets of my life or to leave a comment to let other FBers know I was there and I cared.
♫ “There's no such thing as perfect people.
There's no such thing as a perfect life;
So come as you are, broken and scarred
Lift up your heart and be amazed,
And be changed by a perfect God.” ♫
Natalie Grant
Nevertheless, reading short snippets from other’s lives reaches in and touches my heart as I learn that they, too, are going through struggles, joys, doubts, fears, laughter, tears, and, of course, questions. Oh, I know there is fluff to overlook like someone having a BLT for lunch or how they found butter on sale. Furthermore, there are a bunch of game “applications”. Some love them; some hate them. It’s easy to hide any we find annoying. I'm also aware that everyone should use discretion about information posted.
Often, the posts reveal a morsel of the writer’s life. Us Facebookers (as I’m thinking do most humans) seem to have a need to 1) share our thoughts, avoiding the isolation that looms so easily in our minds, and 2) have a hope that someone “gives a hoot.” Whether we live by ourself or in a crowded home, we can feel very alone and unattached. With Facebook, we’re attached.
We know this because occasionally there is the confirmation from another Facebooker as they “comment” (respond to a post). That comment may well represent the nodding smile or the pat on the arm we have needed. Someone was there. Someone cared.
Every now and then, a Facebooker will make an extremely clever post. I can’t speak for others, but my response is always the same, “I wish I would have thought of that!” I would love to be clever, but I’ll settle for being able to share snippets of my life or to leave a comment to let other FBers know I was there and I cared.
♫ “There's no such thing as perfect people.
There's no such thing as a perfect life;
So come as you are, broken and scarred
Lift up your heart and be amazed,
And be changed by a perfect God.” ♫
Natalie Grant
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
3rd Week of May, Part 2
The other half of my thoughts on the end of May is “graduation.” You see notices in the newspaper—high school, 8th grade, kindergarten, and pre-school graduations. Everyone is excited and all take part. However, when it comes to a college graduation, there may be a different attitude.
Raising several children meant many graduation opportunities (four high school and thirteen college). I’m not complaining—just the opposite. I am a huge advocate of graduation ceremonies (even if they’re boring). If you ever had the blessing (or misfortune) of discussing your upcoming college graduation with me, you experienced my propensity to badger graduates to “GO THROUGH GRADUATION!”
What I mean is to take part in the graduation ceremony. I encourage everyone to put on that shiny gown with the ill-fitting square mortar board on their head and walk across that stage to get their piece of paper (or empty holder as colleges may not pass out “the diploma” but rather wait to see if every jot and tittle of requirements are met and later mail the real thing).
Why such strong feelings for dull ceremonies? Graduation is the symbol of reaching an amazing goal—an exclamation point at the end of the sentence. The ceremony settles it—“I spent my last X number of years moving toward this goal, and I finished it!” If anyone asks if I graduated, I don’t have to say, “well uh, yes, I completed the work.”
You see, I think it is a human tendency not to finish strong. I used to be a timer at track meets and was incredulous as I saw runners slow down as they approached the finish line. I watched many competitors lose their race in the last second or tenths of a second. I see the same thing happen in softball/baseball—runners slow down before they get to the base. In that split second of hesitation, the ball arrives and the runner is “out.”
An obvious example of not finishing strong is seen toward the end of high school—senioritis. It’s the temptation to “coast” when nearing the end of a goal. That temptation is common to most of us. We get tired. We get weary. We just want to be done.
This may be true in our Christian walk, and we use terms like, “I’ve done my share” or “I’m too tired or too busy.” We want to coast. While the scripture tells that Jesus told his friends to "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest,” he did not mean stop. Scripture also commands, “Let us not become weary in doing good…we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
♫ “Lately I've been feeling
Like this race is running me
And I'm fighting to stay focused
On all that I believe
And somewhere in the distance
There's a prize that I can win
And I'm more determined now
More than I've ever been.
CHORUS: I want to finish strong
Faithful to the Father though the road is long
Crossing that line and still I'm pressing on
Oh, I want to finish strong. ♫
Charles Billingsley - Finish Strong
Raising several children meant many graduation opportunities (four high school and thirteen college). I’m not complaining—just the opposite. I am a huge advocate of graduation ceremonies (even if they’re boring). If you ever had the blessing (or misfortune) of discussing your upcoming college graduation with me, you experienced my propensity to badger graduates to “GO THROUGH GRADUATION!”
What I mean is to take part in the graduation ceremony. I encourage everyone to put on that shiny gown with the ill-fitting square mortar board on their head and walk across that stage to get their piece of paper (or empty holder as colleges may not pass out “the diploma” but rather wait to see if every jot and tittle of requirements are met and later mail the real thing).
Why such strong feelings for dull ceremonies? Graduation is the symbol of reaching an amazing goal—an exclamation point at the end of the sentence. The ceremony settles it—“I spent my last X number of years moving toward this goal, and I finished it!” If anyone asks if I graduated, I don’t have to say, “well uh, yes, I completed the work.”
You see, I think it is a human tendency not to finish strong. I used to be a timer at track meets and was incredulous as I saw runners slow down as they approached the finish line. I watched many competitors lose their race in the last second or tenths of a second. I see the same thing happen in softball/baseball—runners slow down before they get to the base. In that split second of hesitation, the ball arrives and the runner is “out.”
An obvious example of not finishing strong is seen toward the end of high school—senioritis. It’s the temptation to “coast” when nearing the end of a goal. That temptation is common to most of us. We get tired. We get weary. We just want to be done.
This may be true in our Christian walk, and we use terms like, “I’ve done my share” or “I’m too tired or too busy.” We want to coast. While the scripture tells that Jesus told his friends to "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest,” he did not mean stop. Scripture also commands, “Let us not become weary in doing good…we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”
♫ “Lately I've been feeling
Like this race is running me
And I'm fighting to stay focused
On all that I believe
And somewhere in the distance
There's a prize that I can win
And I'm more determined now
More than I've ever been.
CHORUS: I want to finish strong
Faithful to the Father though the road is long
Crossing that line and still I'm pressing on
Oh, I want to finish strong. ♫
Charles Billingsley - Finish Strong
Friday, May 21, 2010
3rd Week of May, Part 1
It is the 3rd week of May which means one of two things—summer vacation or graduation. My thoughts are too long on both of those to write it in one blog entry. So, today is part 1.
Since at the beginning the U.S. had a strongly agricultural economy, the school timetable was scheduled for young people to help parents farm. Thus, the school year was divided with school in non-farming seasons and farm work “summer vacation.”
The country is no longer agrarian, but most districts have retained that schedule, perhaps because of summer temperatures. I don’t remember the heat bothering me when I was a kid in elementary school (small school, much shade), but I do remember suffering in my high school years, particularly after P.E. class.
We girls had mandatory (horrendous) blue gym “uniforms” that were one-piece short jumpsuits. We bought ONE as a freshman and wore it daily through all four years (with strict rules to launder it on weekends). By the senior year, after growing a size or so, getting into it was, needless to say, challenging. More formidable was getting out of it after a sweaty activity and back into school clothes. (I won’t even go into the nightmare of pantyhose.) Senior girls prayed for a last hour PE class.
The last day of school is a much longed for and magical date. This is true each spring of every grade up through eleventh. I know from my years as a public school teacher that the anticipation in the mind of the students was minimal compared to the anticipation of summer vacation of the teachers. They are the ones who can tell how many days are left from Easter on. Before you allow a judgmental thought about that, be sure you have spent a year or more being responsible for a classroom of mischievous urchins. If you have not, you have no idea. Trust me!
My years of teaching were far better than in the educational world today, and I was fortunate to have mostly cooperative students. At the beginning of each year, I explained to my classes that my grading method included an important percentage for effort, and failure in my class would only be possible if a student purposed in their heart to fail and worked vigorously toward that goal. Still, a few did choose that path (one daily brought a teen magazine to class instead of her textbook).
In the beginning of both my husband’s and my own teaching career, we had support from parents, the community, and the students. Unfortunately, that has eroded in decades since, and there are too many parents who refuse to accept responsibility for or acknowledge their child’s poor behavior. They do not comprehend the awful truth that their child will be disciplined—either by a velvet glove of someone who cares about them or an iron hand of someone who holds the key to the cell.
But, in a larger sense, that scenario is a picture of the world refusing to acknowledge the concept of sin and its consequences. Rather, many see sin as an old-fashioned theory with no relevance to them. The scripture addresses that mistaken notion. “At the end of your life you will groan, when your flesh and body are spent. You will say, "How I hated discipline! How my heart spurned correction! I would not obey my teachers or listen to my instructors.” Proverbs 5:11-13
Okay, I’m climbing down off my soapbox in order to express thanks to the intrepid teachers for surviving and successfully providing the next level of learning for my grandchildren and the other precious lives they have touched. I wish for them and for the urchins on the other side of the desk a restful and recuperative SUMMER VACATION. Let the cheering begin. . .
♫ It's summertime summertime sum sum summertime
Summertime summertime sum sum summertime
Summertime summertime sum sum summertime summertime…♫
By The Jamies
Since at the beginning the U.S. had a strongly agricultural economy, the school timetable was scheduled for young people to help parents farm. Thus, the school year was divided with school in non-farming seasons and farm work “summer vacation.”
The country is no longer agrarian, but most districts have retained that schedule, perhaps because of summer temperatures. I don’t remember the heat bothering me when I was a kid in elementary school (small school, much shade), but I do remember suffering in my high school years, particularly after P.E. class.
We girls had mandatory (horrendous) blue gym “uniforms” that were one-piece short jumpsuits. We bought ONE as a freshman and wore it daily through all four years (with strict rules to launder it on weekends). By the senior year, after growing a size or so, getting into it was, needless to say, challenging. More formidable was getting out of it after a sweaty activity and back into school clothes. (I won’t even go into the nightmare of pantyhose.) Senior girls prayed for a last hour PE class.
The last day of school is a much longed for and magical date. This is true each spring of every grade up through eleventh. I know from my years as a public school teacher that the anticipation in the mind of the students was minimal compared to the anticipation of summer vacation of the teachers. They are the ones who can tell how many days are left from Easter on. Before you allow a judgmental thought about that, be sure you have spent a year or more being responsible for a classroom of mischievous urchins. If you have not, you have no idea. Trust me!
My years of teaching were far better than in the educational world today, and I was fortunate to have mostly cooperative students. At the beginning of each year, I explained to my classes that my grading method included an important percentage for effort, and failure in my class would only be possible if a student purposed in their heart to fail and worked vigorously toward that goal. Still, a few did choose that path (one daily brought a teen magazine to class instead of her textbook).
In the beginning of both my husband’s and my own teaching career, we had support from parents, the community, and the students. Unfortunately, that has eroded in decades since, and there are too many parents who refuse to accept responsibility for or acknowledge their child’s poor behavior. They do not comprehend the awful truth that their child will be disciplined—either by a velvet glove of someone who cares about them or an iron hand of someone who holds the key to the cell.
But, in a larger sense, that scenario is a picture of the world refusing to acknowledge the concept of sin and its consequences. Rather, many see sin as an old-fashioned theory with no relevance to them. The scripture addresses that mistaken notion. “At the end of your life you will groan, when your flesh and body are spent. You will say, "How I hated discipline! How my heart spurned correction! I would not obey my teachers or listen to my instructors.” Proverbs 5:11-13
Okay, I’m climbing down off my soapbox in order to express thanks to the intrepid teachers for surviving and successfully providing the next level of learning for my grandchildren and the other precious lives they have touched. I wish for them and for the urchins on the other side of the desk a restful and recuperative SUMMER VACATION. Let the cheering begin. . .
♫ It's summertime summertime sum sum summertime
Summertime summertime sum sum summertime
Summertime summertime sum sum summertime summertime…♫
By The Jamies
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
The Law and the Lions
I know I’ve mentioned this verse before, but I keep being amazed by the truth of Jeremiah 10:23, “It is not in man to direct his steps.” I have heard it said, “There’s no fixing stupid,” and I think I agree. Oh, I’m not setting myself up as any example of wisdom, (far from it) but I seek to learn wisdom and to exhibit a modicum of common sense.
The reason for my ranting? This morning I was watching TV, and there was a man, a lawyer I think, who is bringing a lawsuit against a city in California because their city council opened their meeting with prayer. Well, no, that’s not it exactly. He indicated that “prayer” was not really objectionable to him, except that the prayer was “religious” and included the name of “Jesus.”
The gentleman explained his tolerance for prayer as long as it was not religious. Say what? How is it that prayer would be not religious? He explained that it was all right with him if they prayed to some god out there somewhere, but not if it involved Jesus Christ. It was pointed out that although the city council had opened their meetings with prayer for decades, this was now a violation of something or another. By that point in the interview, I had tuned the man out and bowed my head to apologize to the God of the universe for our allowing this “One Nation Under God” to get so far from loyalty to Him.
When I see a person shake their fist in the face of God (as happens frequently these day), I generally have one thought—someday that person will stand before Him personally, and boy is he going to be surprised! At the same time, I am aware that I and everyone else will also stand in the courtroom of the Ancient of Days when “books are opened” (as in Daniel 7). Will that man deserve a harsher sentence than me? No! But mine has already been paid for.
I keep going back to John 3:16, and while God did love the whole world so much that He gave His Son, the promise of redemption and eternal life is made only to those who believed in that Son. Narrow minded? Well, yes. Matthew 7:13-14 tells "Enter through the NARROW gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and NARROW the road that leads to life, and only a few find it” and John 14:6 “Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. NO ONE comes to the Father except through me.”
I don’t know about being “religious,” but I encourage us all to pray and to pray in the Name of Jesus, God’s Son. Speaking of Daniel, do you remember why he was thrown into the lion’s den? It was because some government men made a law against prayer. Hmmmm. Do you remember who was eaten by the lions?
The reason for my ranting? This morning I was watching TV, and there was a man, a lawyer I think, who is bringing a lawsuit against a city in California because their city council opened their meeting with prayer. Well, no, that’s not it exactly. He indicated that “prayer” was not really objectionable to him, except that the prayer was “religious” and included the name of “Jesus.”
The gentleman explained his tolerance for prayer as long as it was not religious. Say what? How is it that prayer would be not religious? He explained that it was all right with him if they prayed to some god out there somewhere, but not if it involved Jesus Christ. It was pointed out that although the city council had opened their meetings with prayer for decades, this was now a violation of something or another. By that point in the interview, I had tuned the man out and bowed my head to apologize to the God of the universe for our allowing this “One Nation Under God” to get so far from loyalty to Him.
When I see a person shake their fist in the face of God (as happens frequently these day), I generally have one thought—someday that person will stand before Him personally, and boy is he going to be surprised! At the same time, I am aware that I and everyone else will also stand in the courtroom of the Ancient of Days when “books are opened” (as in Daniel 7). Will that man deserve a harsher sentence than me? No! But mine has already been paid for.
I keep going back to John 3:16, and while God did love the whole world so much that He gave His Son, the promise of redemption and eternal life is made only to those who believed in that Son. Narrow minded? Well, yes. Matthew 7:13-14 tells "Enter through the NARROW gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and NARROW the road that leads to life, and only a few find it” and John 14:6 “Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. NO ONE comes to the Father except through me.”
I don’t know about being “religious,” but I encourage us all to pray and to pray in the Name of Jesus, God’s Son. Speaking of Daniel, do you remember why he was thrown into the lion’s den? It was because some government men made a law against prayer. Hmmmm. Do you remember who was eaten by the lions?
♫ “Jesus Messiah,
Name above all names,
Blessed Redeemer,
Emmanuel.
The rescue for sinners
The ransom from Heaven
Jesus Messiah,
Lord of all.” ♫
Chris Tomlin
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Happy Birthday to Three
Yesterday was a day of birthdays. With 365 days available in a year, I would expect each person I know to have their own peculiar birthday (not peculiar odd, but peculiar distinct). However, not so.
First, yesterday was my husband’s aunt’s 90th birthday—she was born in 1920. Just consider the changes in the world since 1920—changes in living conditions, transportation, communication, economics, life styles, and on and on.
We were asked, at her party last night, to guess what she considered the most important innovation that had affected her life. We all guessed several things (I thought it might be a washing machine). Her answer was “electricity” which was a far better answer than mine. She has lived through several wars, a great depression, seventeen presidents, an enormous change from rural isolation, and unbelievable explosion of technology.
Secondly, yesterday was our oldest child’s birthday. She is not close to half our aunt’s age, but has also seen many changes in the world. She and I were discussing her two nieces (my granddaughters) a few weeks ago and differed on what kind of life would be happiest for them. One of her responses was that their lives would not be same as my children had; but this was a different time and even though their lives would be different, it did not mean it was not good. I’m still mulling that one over. I do have to admit that my grown children do not seem to have particularly benefitted from their type of childhood experiences, so maybe she is right.
The changes my daughter has witnessed in her world so far have also been extensive. I started to write, “man first walked on the moon”, but realized she had not been born yet when that happened. She has seen: seven presidents, Roe vs Wade allow abortions, the space station come into being, the Iran hostage crisis, the space shuttle Challenger (carrying a school teacher) explode, the Berlin Wall fall, the Gulf War, Los Angeles riots, Oklahoma City bombing, the U.S. attacked and the Twin Towers fall, hurricanes (like Katrina), tsunamis, huge earthquakes, and our economy become unstable and our freedoms eroded.
She has seen some advances such as microwave ovens, digital cameras, flat screen *TVs, CDs, DVDs, DVRs, I-pods, blogs, and particularly cell phones with pictures and TEXTING! What will they think of next?
The third birth day yesterday was a beautiful baby girl born shortly after midnight to good friends. I cannot begin to imagine what her eyes will see in her world. I hope it is the opposite of what my daughter has seen—I hope there are many more positive world and national events to record and fewer “things and *letters” that will define her lifetime view.
It would be easy to worry and fret about what all the young ones will have to face, but God’s word encourages us to trust. “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” “Who is the one who overcomes the world, but he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God.”
To these three beautiful women:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY (♫and many m-o-re).
First, yesterday was my husband’s aunt’s 90th birthday—she was born in 1920. Just consider the changes in the world since 1920—changes in living conditions, transportation, communication, economics, life styles, and on and on.
We were asked, at her party last night, to guess what she considered the most important innovation that had affected her life. We all guessed several things (I thought it might be a washing machine). Her answer was “electricity” which was a far better answer than mine. She has lived through several wars, a great depression, seventeen presidents, an enormous change from rural isolation, and unbelievable explosion of technology.
Secondly, yesterday was our oldest child’s birthday. She is not close to half our aunt’s age, but has also seen many changes in the world. She and I were discussing her two nieces (my granddaughters) a few weeks ago and differed on what kind of life would be happiest for them. One of her responses was that their lives would not be same as my children had; but this was a different time and even though their lives would be different, it did not mean it was not good. I’m still mulling that one over. I do have to admit that my grown children do not seem to have particularly benefitted from their type of childhood experiences, so maybe she is right.
The changes my daughter has witnessed in her world so far have also been extensive. I started to write, “man first walked on the moon”, but realized she had not been born yet when that happened. She has seen: seven presidents, Roe vs Wade allow abortions, the space station come into being, the Iran hostage crisis, the space shuttle Challenger (carrying a school teacher) explode, the Berlin Wall fall, the Gulf War, Los Angeles riots, Oklahoma City bombing, the U.S. attacked and the Twin Towers fall, hurricanes (like Katrina), tsunamis, huge earthquakes, and our economy become unstable and our freedoms eroded.
She has seen some advances such as microwave ovens, digital cameras, flat screen *TVs, CDs, DVDs, DVRs, I-pods, blogs, and particularly cell phones with pictures and TEXTING! What will they think of next?
The third birth day yesterday was a beautiful baby girl born shortly after midnight to good friends. I cannot begin to imagine what her eyes will see in her world. I hope it is the opposite of what my daughter has seen—I hope there are many more positive world and national events to record and fewer “things and *letters” that will define her lifetime view.
It would be easy to worry and fret about what all the young ones will have to face, but God’s word encourages us to trust. “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” “Who is the one who overcomes the world, but he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God.”
To these three beautiful women:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY (♫and many m-o-re).
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
I Don't Want to be a "Hoarder"
My granddaughters like to ride around and look at houses, flowers, non-green trees and bushes, and "tiny houses" (small outdoor buildings or sheds). They particularly point out if they see a big house, as though having a big house would make life perfect.
I try to assure them that the size of house has little to do with life or happiness. As I say that, I acknowledge that our house is fairly large. But then, large and small are relative terms—larger than what? or smaller than what?
I have lived in several kinds of homes. I grew up in a small, very OLD house. It was not at all nice to look at, but it was sturdy and provided warmth and shelter for our little family.
When my farmer and I were married in college, we lived in a 3-room apartment which was tiny but close to campus. After college, we moved into an upstairs two-bedroom apartment—very spacious (well, compared to our college one). After spending a year tiptoeing around to avoid annoying our grumpy downstairs neighbor, we bought a two-bedroom house. It cost around $14,000, and we were terrified at such a large debt.
Twelve years later, expecting our third child, we reasoned that if it was a girl, she could join the other two in the second bedroom. However, he was a boy. Since my farmer/teacher was working a third job learning construction, we began to make plans to build a house--literally. We had help getting it under roof, and then my husband began the job of finishing. He even laid all the bricks. By the end, he was an excellent bricklayer. He is a very multi-talented man. During that building project, a suspected case of the flu became our fourth child, so we were glad we had enough room to raise our family these past thirty years.
Living in these various homes, I have come to realize that it’s not so much the size that mattered, but rather the amount of “stuff” we attempted to stuff it with. I understand there is a series on TV called “Hoarders.” I have never seen it but I’m afraid I might be a candidate. I believe that when it comes to stuff, especially non-essential stuff, less is better than more. I need to simplify my environment. I know it would be easier to care for.
The bible talks about this in Matthew 6: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
This is from the mouth of Jesus. If I may paraphrase, we should not store up stuff we do not need. Those "moth, rust, and thief" things seem to be the very stuff I stuff our house with--like clothes (the moth thing), cars or trucks (the rust thing), and jewelry or collectibles or video stuff (the thief thing). That about covers all our stuff (well, except I don’t have any jewelry).
I agree with Jesus’ statement that stuff is not my treasure. I have found my treasure to be in relationships—with God and with those He has given me to love. Oh, I enjoy our house and stuff, but only as a box for the real treasure.
Still, I need to clean out closets!
I try to assure them that the size of house has little to do with life or happiness. As I say that, I acknowledge that our house is fairly large. But then, large and small are relative terms—larger than what? or smaller than what?
I have lived in several kinds of homes. I grew up in a small, very OLD house. It was not at all nice to look at, but it was sturdy and provided warmth and shelter for our little family.
When my farmer and I were married in college, we lived in a 3-room apartment which was tiny but close to campus. After college, we moved into an upstairs two-bedroom apartment—very spacious (well, compared to our college one). After spending a year tiptoeing around to avoid annoying our grumpy downstairs neighbor, we bought a two-bedroom house. It cost around $14,000, and we were terrified at such a large debt.
Twelve years later, expecting our third child, we reasoned that if it was a girl, she could join the other two in the second bedroom. However, he was a boy. Since my farmer/teacher was working a third job learning construction, we began to make plans to build a house--literally. We had help getting it under roof, and then my husband began the job of finishing. He even laid all the bricks. By the end, he was an excellent bricklayer. He is a very multi-talented man. During that building project, a suspected case of the flu became our fourth child, so we were glad we had enough room to raise our family these past thirty years.
Living in these various homes, I have come to realize that it’s not so much the size that mattered, but rather the amount of “stuff” we attempted to stuff it with. I understand there is a series on TV called “Hoarders.” I have never seen it but I’m afraid I might be a candidate. I believe that when it comes to stuff, especially non-essential stuff, less is better than more. I need to simplify my environment. I know it would be easier to care for.
The bible talks about this in Matthew 6: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
This is from the mouth of Jesus. If I may paraphrase, we should not store up stuff we do not need. Those "moth, rust, and thief" things seem to be the very stuff I stuff our house with--like clothes (the moth thing), cars or trucks (the rust thing), and jewelry or collectibles or video stuff (the thief thing). That about covers all our stuff (well, except I don’t have any jewelry).
I agree with Jesus’ statement that stuff is not my treasure. I have found my treasure to be in relationships—with God and with those He has given me to love. Oh, I enjoy our house and stuff, but only as a box for the real treasure.
Still, I need to clean out closets!
Monday, May 10, 2010
Repeat Post from May 10, 2009
This is a repeat blog entry from May 10 last year. This will, I am sure, be my memory every May 10 as it was life changing for our family.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 Mother's Day
If you read this, perhaps you’ll understand why I appreciate Mother’s Day so much.
Eighteen years ago on Mother’s Day, we found ourselves in an Evansville hospital having spent two long nights and a day praying and wondering. The Friday night before on May 10, we had just gone to bed when the doorbell rang. At the door were friends of our oldest who hysterically told us that our daughter had been shot.
In disbelief, our questions were “how was she?” and “where was she?” They didn’t know! We five got dressed and hurried to the nearby hospital, knowing that’s where injured people go. We were right; she was in the emergency room having been shot in the face with a rifle. As soon as the medical team could semi-stabilize her, she was sent to Evansville, Indiana, by helicopter. We hurried home, threw some clothes into a suitcase, and followed by car. There was a thick fog that night, and the 90-minute trip seemed to take hours.
Needless to say, we prayed all the way, not knowing what we would find when we arrived. We did find her alive and being prepared for some tests. Following those tests, she was admitted to the Intensive Care section, where we could see her for only a few minutes every hour or so.
And so it went through Saturday day and night. On Sunday morning, Mother’s Day, she was scheduled to have surgery on her mouth at 8 o’clock to clean out the debris, take out the roots of the damaged teeth, and close the wound inside her cheek. The doctor told us to expect for her to be in the hospital for several weeks. I just wanted to hear that she would live. Those words did not come. The time ticked by, but she was not taken into surgery until almost noon.
Sometimes great challenges bring great rewards. We later learned that almost every church in our town had prayed for our daughter that day at their morning church service. It was as though the surgery needed to wait until those prayers went up before the throne of God.
Finally, the doctors came out of surgery with an unexpected announcement that our daughter could probably go home on Tuesday—a complete turn-around. She would be able to celebrate her birthday at home on Wednesday and to attend her community college graduation on Saturday. It was my best Mother’s Day. Our girl would live! Thank you, Lord!
If you know her, check out the dimple on her left cheek—her souvenir.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 Mother's Day
If you read this, perhaps you’ll understand why I appreciate Mother’s Day so much.
Eighteen years ago on Mother’s Day, we found ourselves in an Evansville hospital having spent two long nights and a day praying and wondering. The Friday night before on May 10, we had just gone to bed when the doorbell rang. At the door were friends of our oldest who hysterically told us that our daughter had been shot.
In disbelief, our questions were “how was she?” and “where was she?” They didn’t know! We five got dressed and hurried to the nearby hospital, knowing that’s where injured people go. We were right; she was in the emergency room having been shot in the face with a rifle. As soon as the medical team could semi-stabilize her, she was sent to Evansville, Indiana, by helicopter. We hurried home, threw some clothes into a suitcase, and followed by car. There was a thick fog that night, and the 90-minute trip seemed to take hours.
Needless to say, we prayed all the way, not knowing what we would find when we arrived. We did find her alive and being prepared for some tests. Following those tests, she was admitted to the Intensive Care section, where we could see her for only a few minutes every hour or so.
And so it went through Saturday day and night. On Sunday morning, Mother’s Day, she was scheduled to have surgery on her mouth at 8 o’clock to clean out the debris, take out the roots of the damaged teeth, and close the wound inside her cheek. The doctor told us to expect for her to be in the hospital for several weeks. I just wanted to hear that she would live. Those words did not come. The time ticked by, but she was not taken into surgery until almost noon.
Sometimes great challenges bring great rewards. We later learned that almost every church in our town had prayed for our daughter that day at their morning church service. It was as though the surgery needed to wait until those prayers went up before the throne of God.
Finally, the doctors came out of surgery with an unexpected announcement that our daughter could probably go home on Tuesday—a complete turn-around. She would be able to celebrate her birthday at home on Wednesday and to attend her community college graduation on Saturday. It was my best Mother’s Day. Our girl would live! Thank you, Lord!
If you know her, check out the dimple on her left cheek—her souvenir.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Waxing Nostalgic
Do you remember when you were a kid waiting for a special time, like a birthday, Christmas, or summer vacation, and how those waiting weeks and months would hardly go by? Also, as someone more grown-up, do you remember days, especially tough days, dragging by slowly? And now, on an occasional sleepy afternoon at work, have you noticed that the hands on your watch do not move? I do and I have.
And yet, the days and weeks trudge by methodically, one after another. Suddenly, years have passed, and I’m not sure if I truly lived each day. (Side trail: does anyone feel like July has only about ten days—July 1st through the 4th and then a few days at the end of the month?)
But the hours, days, months, and years do go by, and kids that were babies a short time ago are now real people with activities of their own. I suffer from this nostalgia every time I go through the “lasts.” You can imagine what I was like when our youngest of four was a senior in high school. This was our “last” kid, our last homecoming, our last basketball season, our last prom, our last high school graduation.
(Side trail #2: I have to tell you about our last baseball game—our team made it to the state tournament. We had one loss so were to play in the 3rd/4th place game. It was a tough game, but we came out on top—3rd place in the state with a big trophy. Our “last kid” was named best second baseman on the all-tournament team. Wow! That was a terrific “last.”)
So here, years later, thinking I was over the pain of the “lasts,” I find they have reappeared. Yesterday, my second granddaughter, who a short time ago was a tiny beautiful baby, had a celebration tea for mothers and grandmothers at her pre-school. This was my 4th year of attendance—two for our older granddaughter and now two for the second born. This was her “last.” She will be in kindergarten this fall. Sigh!
Fortunately, there are grandsons coming up and so we’ll have more teas to celebrate, more ballgames, more cute productions. Still, I’m not looking forward to another bout with the “lasts.” Wait, come to think of it, yes I am! I hope we’re still around and able to experience and enjoy our youngest grandchild (whoever that might be) do those cool things for the “last” time.
In Luke 22:15-16, Jesus faced a “last.” It was the last time he would spend earth time with his earth friends. Together, they had shared intimate conversations, personal challenges, and miraculous experiences. During those years, their lives had changed directions and had found purpose undreamed of. Only Jesus knew it was the “last.” He said, "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God." Studying the “last supper” helps me realize that it was indicative of a change, not merely an end. Their relationship would be different, but it would not be over.
Consider the word “Commencement,” a ceremony taking place in high schools this month. It’s a beginning rather than an end.
So, I have encouraged myself through the nostalgia. This “last” is just the beginning of the next chapter.
♫ Is this the little girl I carried?
Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older
When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he grow to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday
When they were small?♫
Sunrise Sunset from Fiddler on the Roof
And yet, the days and weeks trudge by methodically, one after another. Suddenly, years have passed, and I’m not sure if I truly lived each day. (Side trail: does anyone feel like July has only about ten days—July 1st through the 4th and then a few days at the end of the month?)
But the hours, days, months, and years do go by, and kids that were babies a short time ago are now real people with activities of their own. I suffer from this nostalgia every time I go through the “lasts.” You can imagine what I was like when our youngest of four was a senior in high school. This was our “last” kid, our last homecoming, our last basketball season, our last prom, our last high school graduation.
(Side trail #2: I have to tell you about our last baseball game—our team made it to the state tournament. We had one loss so were to play in the 3rd/4th place game. It was a tough game, but we came out on top—3rd place in the state with a big trophy. Our “last kid” was named best second baseman on the all-tournament team. Wow! That was a terrific “last.”)
So here, years later, thinking I was over the pain of the “lasts,” I find they have reappeared. Yesterday, my second granddaughter, who a short time ago was a tiny beautiful baby, had a celebration tea for mothers and grandmothers at her pre-school. This was my 4th year of attendance—two for our older granddaughter and now two for the second born. This was her “last.” She will be in kindergarten this fall. Sigh!
Fortunately, there are grandsons coming up and so we’ll have more teas to celebrate, more ballgames, more cute productions. Still, I’m not looking forward to another bout with the “lasts.” Wait, come to think of it, yes I am! I hope we’re still around and able to experience and enjoy our youngest grandchild (whoever that might be) do those cool things for the “last” time.
In Luke 22:15-16, Jesus faced a “last.” It was the last time he would spend earth time with his earth friends. Together, they had shared intimate conversations, personal challenges, and miraculous experiences. During those years, their lives had changed directions and had found purpose undreamed of. Only Jesus knew it was the “last.” He said, "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God." Studying the “last supper” helps me realize that it was indicative of a change, not merely an end. Their relationship would be different, but it would not be over.
Consider the word “Commencement,” a ceremony taking place in high schools this month. It’s a beginning rather than an end.
So, I have encouraged myself through the nostalgia. This “last” is just the beginning of the next chapter.
♫ Is this the little girl I carried?
Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older
When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he grow to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday
When they were small?♫
Sunrise Sunset from Fiddler on the Roof
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Sound Fishy?
I often get inspiration listening to Christian teachers on the radio. This morning, on the way to work, I heard a wise, yet warning-type story.
There was an old fisherman with no formal education and a young ichthyology professor from a local university. As they fished together in a small boat far from shore, the young professor bragged to the old fisherman in grand detail about his knowledge of “Osteichthyes”, “Chondrichthyes”, and “Agnatha” (skeletal, cartilaginous, and jawless fish).
“So, what do YOU know?” the young man asked smugly.
The old fisherman chuckled, “I know the way out of here, but I don’t know fish like you do.”
“Too bad!” lamented the haughty biology professor.
Just then, the younger man had a violent pull on his line, and he struggled to get his prize catch into the boat. Being inexperienced, he leaned over the boat as he pulled hand over hand on the line. The boat capsized and sank! Both men found themselves in choppy, cold water.
Instinctively, the old fisherman began the long, grueling swim to the shore, expecting the younger man to pass him at any moment. On the shore, exhausted, the old man turned to see the young man still back in the middle of the lake, thrashing to stay above water.
“What are you doing?” the old man shouted.
“I know fish, but I don’t know the way out—I never learned to swim.”
“Too bad!” lamented the old fisherman.
Isn’t that the way of the world? There are those who brag on their vast knowledge about this or that, but do not know the most important thing in this world—the way out!
“No one else can save us. Indeed, we can be saved only by the power of the one named Jesus and not by any other person.” Acts 4:12 (GOD’S WORD Translation)
“Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” I Corinthians 1:20
There was an old fisherman with no formal education and a young ichthyology professor from a local university. As they fished together in a small boat far from shore, the young professor bragged to the old fisherman in grand detail about his knowledge of “Osteichthyes”, “Chondrichthyes”, and “Agnatha” (skeletal, cartilaginous, and jawless fish).
“So, what do YOU know?” the young man asked smugly.
The old fisherman chuckled, “I know the way out of here, but I don’t know fish like you do.”
“Too bad!” lamented the haughty biology professor.
Just then, the younger man had a violent pull on his line, and he struggled to get his prize catch into the boat. Being inexperienced, he leaned over the boat as he pulled hand over hand on the line. The boat capsized and sank! Both men found themselves in choppy, cold water.
Instinctively, the old fisherman began the long, grueling swim to the shore, expecting the younger man to pass him at any moment. On the shore, exhausted, the old man turned to see the young man still back in the middle of the lake, thrashing to stay above water.
“What are you doing?” the old man shouted.
“I know fish, but I don’t know the way out—I never learned to swim.”
“Too bad!” lamented the old fisherman.
Isn’t that the way of the world? There are those who brag on their vast knowledge about this or that, but do not know the most important thing in this world—the way out!
“No one else can save us. Indeed, we can be saved only by the power of the one named Jesus and not by any other person.” Acts 4:12 (GOD’S WORD Translation)
“Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” I Corinthians 1:20
♫ I'm diving in; I'm going deep“Dive” by Steven Curtis Chapman
In over my head I wanna be
Caught in the rush; Lost in the flow
In over my head I wanna go
The river's deep; The river's wide
The river's water is alive
So sink or swim, I'm diving in
So sink or swim, I'm diving in
So sink or swim, I'm diving in ♫
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