Mining in the Morning

One Last Bear

2012-02-07T07:28:00.006-05:00

My baby turned twelve. How quickly the years have passed! Finding a gift for her was more challenging this time. She's not a greedy child and had few things on her wish list. She doesn't long for dolls or Polly Pockets or Littlest Pet Shop toys anymore. What do you give a girl who is on the outskirts of childhood getting ready to fly away? And what would we do on her special day? It's her choice. She decides on going to the mall. Really? She doesn't even like shopping. Maybe it is to please her sister.

We have a carefree time with no urgent schedule to keep. We walk and roam. The girls brought old gift cards with them, never used. (We don't get to the mall much.) They visit Claire's and spend a long time looking at all the trinkets, finally finding earring for themselves and gifts for Lana and Mattie who will be coming for the family party the next day.

Liana has a long forgotten Build-A-Bear Workshop gift card in her purse. It's been many years since she and her friends, such little girls, had a birthday party here. Liana decides to make another bear. She wants Arielle to make one too and even offers to pay for her sister's. (Arielle says no.) Liana chooses a white fluffy bear and goes along with the clerk's instructions to kiss the heart that will go inside the bear and then she jumps up and down to make a wish. Her smile, her joy--just like before. The magic still lives. She names her bear Arabella.

At home we have Liana's special dinner--Chinese Longevity Soup and chocolate chip ice cream. We play her new game of Five Crowns that lasts way past bedtime. I kiss my twelve-year-old daughter good-night, her new bear sitting beside her pillow dressed in princess clothes. Liana hasn't flown away yet, and I'm very happy about that.

The Year We Skipped Winter

2012-02-01T23:06:00.006-05:00

The girls and I were challenged to find three God-gifts today--morning, afternoon, and evening. Here are mine.

#248 Springtime in February with a brilliant blue sky

#249 Walking a little dog named Belle with a warm wind in my face

#250 Apricot roses floating in my grandmother's blue glass bowl

"I would maintain that thanks is the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder." G.K. Chesterton

Sharing the Good Stuff

2012-02-01T07:39:00.002-05:00

I gave Fred a Fernando Ortega CD for his birthday that has a beautiful piano version of this song. For some reason it was in my head this morning so I tried to find it on youtube. Instead I found Michael Card's music, which is also lovely. My friend Joan told me she brought this CD with her to the hospital when she went for chemo.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ui3KvfsMZw

Father to the Fatherless

2012-01-30T07:54:00.007-05:00

It's my son's birthday today. As I often do with each of my children, I reflect on the moment we met, when I first saw the face of the much-longed-for child.

This boy was born into strange circumstances. He would never see the face of his runaway father. This child was mine alone. I carried him alone, bore him alone, and raised him alone for many years. But he was not a burden, rather a delight, curious and sweet, a high achiever, a boy of many interests. Now he is a man with a tender heart and many degrees, still curious. He is changing the world for the better with his expertise. My boy is not only my son but my friend. We can talk of many deep things. He brought a wife into our family, adding to my joy. And maybe later children?

Me, a fatherless child. My son suffered the same fate through no fault of his. Are we the people we are because of that fact? How might we have been different? I can see God our Father's hand on my life from the beginning, a frail and broken child made strong. And on my son's life too. This Father has been ever-present, ever-faithful.

My son read Psalm 103 on my wedding day when I married Fred so many years ago:

"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.

As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame. He remembers that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass. He flourishes like a flower of the field, for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.

But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children, to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments."

Fathers

2012-01-17T21:45:00.009-05:00

The excitement has died down and I've had time to think all this through about my father. I am grateful for all the information, some of it quite interesting, but little came directly from him. He really has given me nothing and has made no effort to contact any of us. People keep saying this has a greater purpose. God has a purpose, I know, but I'm not sure what that is yet.

However, we have learned some interesting stories and fascinating coincidences! My parents met in California (my mother born and raised there). They got married and moved to Nevada. I was born in Nevada, and my father still lives in the same city. As a child, without him, we lived in Arizona a long time and then came to St. Louis. Later I lived in Oklahoma and many other places along the way. I didn't come to Pennsylvania until 1983, and I did not feel at home here for a long time. I always felt like a nomad, never being able to settle anywhere. I still remember the day I claimed Pennsylvania for my own. I was in an airplane that was landing and I looked down at the familiar river and the highways and the airport and thought--this is home. I don't want to ever move away.

Through the research, I found out my father was born and lived in a neighboring suburb of this very same city where I live now. In fact, his home was just a few miles from the church where our family attends. His father and grandfather and great-grandfather all lived in this area. I've been surrounded by my ancestors all these years and didn't know it! They are buried here and had successful businesses here. I probably have cousins nearby.

Another strange connection: My great-grandfather applied for a passport in 1916. He was planning to go to CHINA! Amazing! His business manufactured surgical instruments and I guess he was traveling to sell these products overseas. He planned to sail on a ship called the Empress of Russia, leaving from Vancouver. Many years later, I would be making my own trip to China.

So those are the facts. What about the heart issues? I never had a father growing up. My step-father never cared about me and I never even knew what a good father was supposed to be. When I became a Christian and heard God was my father, I thought He must be a hard disciplinarian to be feared, ready to pronounce judgment and condemn. When I married Fred I saw what a good father looks like--a provider, protector, comforter, encourager, source of wisdom. One to whom little girls can run to when they are frightened or sad. One who listens, one who has compassion for the small and weak. One who guides and leads. I didn't know. I began to see God in a new light and found that He is all those things. God is my Father. And not just to me. He promises to be "Father to the fatherless." (Psalm 68:5) "I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me." (II Corinthians 6:18) And, "If children, then heirs, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ." (Romans 8:17)

When I was fatherless, God adopted me into His family. I've learned that He is a good father. He provides, protects, comforts, encourages, and guides me in wisdom. My inheritance lies in heaven with Him. My need for this earthly father is over.

I will see where this all ends up. But I don't have any real desire to talk with my father. He could have called me, after all. I think I would be disappointed in him because he wouldn't hold a candle to the father I see loving my two daughters every day.

To those searching for a father's love, the promise is for us all. "See what kind of love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are." (I John 3:1)

Thought for the New Year

2012-01-13T07:41:00.003-05:00

Arielle has been reading poetry for her literature class. Here are the closing lines of one of them:

"Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"

(Mary Oliver from "The Summer Day")

What is it we plan to do this year? Will it fade into oblivion, stacked onto the previous years we can't remember? How do we slow this mad rushing torrent of time? I want this to be a year of significance, a year to pay attention and take notice and love well my family and friends. What about you?

When was the last time you read Our Town by Thornton Wilder? I think it is wasted on high schoolers, when, really, it has much more meaning for us older folks.

An Unexpected Gift

2011-12-30T07:34:00.003-05:00

What not to do at Christmas:

1. Plan too many projects that must be completed before the big day.
2. Plan too many activities that keep you running from event to event.
3. Plan a big holiday dinner with over-tired, over-stimulated children as guests.
4. Find your father who has been missing for 54 years.

This was an exceptionally difficult Christmas. There were some beautiful, meaningful moments--driving around looking at lights with Fred and the girls, the concert at church, our candlelit devotions in the morning, seeing the girls' joy with their gifts and receiving lovely handmade gifts from each of them. But overall, the holidays were stressful this year. And then, a most unexpected gift landed in my lap--the gift of a father. And I'm still asking if this is really a gift or something else.

My parents split when I was a little girl. I never heard from my father again. Was it his choice to never pursue me? Or my mom's choice to prohibit him from finding me? Who knows. And does it matter? I've been curious about him off and on through the years but I assumed I'd never know anything about him.

Right before Christmas I heard from my sons that their dad was researching his own family tree. For whatever reason, he left his tree and decided to go in a different direction and research mine. I think he wanted to give this information as a gift to the boys. He asked one of them what my original maiden name was. (I was adopted by my step-father.) Now here is the eerie part: Years and years ago my mother gave me a silver rattle and silver cup that belonged to my birth father when he was a baby. I still have the cup but the rattle has been long forgotten and lost. At the same time that the boys gave their dad my name and he did a little research, he discovered this rattle on his daughter's dresser. Where did she get it, he asked. She told him she found it at the bottom of his toolbox. He examined it and saw my father's initials and birthdate. He made the connection to recently discovered information he'd found. He asked my oldest son if he wanted him to contact his grandfather. Yes. So he called the home of my father, far away on the other side of the country. The rattle gave him an opening.

Two days before Christmas one of my boys tells me this story. I am shocked, and buried memories and emotions surface. At this point, the boys' dad has only talked to my father's wife, but they decide on a good time to have a phone conversation with my father--Christmas Eve. So he calls my father and supposedly has a long, interesting conversation. (All info is coming to me second hand from my sons.) My father says he never knew where I was all those years. He is interested in finding out about his daughter and grandsons. He is old. There may not be much time.

So I am planning Christmas with all this turmoil swirling inside. I can't concentrate on anything. I can't sleep. Where is God in all this? (For He is in everything.) The boys and I collect some pictures and information to mail to my father, their grandfather. I find an old picture of a young man holding a blonde giggling child on his lap. His arms are tight around her in an embrace and he is kissing her cheek. Father and daughter.

Christmas is over and there is time to contemplate all these things. I have no illusions of a grand reunion. I would just like a little information to fill in the blanks. Maybe some medical history. Maybe my father really doesn't care after all these years or maybe he wonders if I'm after something. Maybe this is the end of it. And that's okay.

When the girls and I were looking through the box of old pictures, I found several of my grandmother, the woman who adopted my mother when she was a tiny girl. No, she is not my biological grandmother. But she is the one I loved and the grandmother who loved me. I tell my girls that blood doesn't matter. This is my "real" grandmother and nothing will change that. Arielle says, "She's pretty." Liana says, "She looks so kind, just like my own grandma." They are right. She was the best grandma a little girl could have.

Wonder

2011-12-13T07:33:00.004-05:00

The moonlight washes across the face of my beautiful daughter when I come to kiss her good-night. She says she loves to fall asleep looking up at the moon full in the sky. She can see it through her blinds. "Put your head right here on my pillow, Mom, and you can see it." I remember her first sentence at fifteen months. We stood on our front porch wondering at the moon that night. She said, "Look! Moon, big, high, sky!" And I wondered at this baby so taken with the heavens.

The same moon, the same house, the same child. But time has changed the people here. I grow old; Arielle grows up. I feel so blessed--so incredibly blessed--that I had the opportunity to nurture this girl through her childhood. I was chosen to be her mother! Of all the mothers of the world... What a privilege! Arielle will continue to grow apart and away from me. It's the plan. But she will always be my precious daughter and I will always be her mother and the moon will rise full through all the seasons of our lives.

Of course, I have another equally treasured daughter who might read this and say, "What about me?" Liana, I will tell your story at another time.

A Christmas Weekend

2011-12-12T07:49:00.009-05:00

Despite my failures, God continues to bless. What a beautiful weekend! Saturday we busied ourselves with housework and projects. I've learned to thank God for TIME to clean. I don't like doing it, but I like a clean house. Fred was given a restaurant gift card for his birthday, so he treated us all to Olive Garden! We don't often go out to eat, so it is a special occasion. Olive Garden has gluten-free pasta and all that salad! It was very cold outside, but cozy inside this bustling restaurant on a Christmasy Saturday night. Afterwards we drove through winding streets on the way home to see the houses all lit up while listening to Christmas music on the radio. We passed through the old neighborhood where the boys grew up, bringing ghosts of memories as I remembered people who lived here long ago. My next-door neighbor who lost her son in Afghanistan a couple of years ago has her house adorned in twinkling lights. We were glad to see that. Hope lives on.

At home the girls and I played a rousing game of Quiddler in front of the fire. Driving around looking at the lovely (and cheesy) decorations people set up, listening to the meaningful (and silly) Christmas songs, playing games on a cold winter night: these are our traditions. Are we missing the true meaning of Christmas, as some might say? I don't think so. Our traditions remind us of God's goodness in past years as we do all over again the things we've enjoyed before. They give us hope that we will continue them next year and beyond. And when we are gone, our children will carry on these traditions.

Our family was asked to light the Advent candle in front of the church on Sunday. Oh, the turmoil for the girls in deciding on an outfit, and how would they do their hair? I reminded them that all their friends will be in their Sunday school classes and would not see them. Still, it was exciting and a little scary for them to stand before the throngs of people watching. These same two girls a few years ago sang a duet in front of hundreds on Christmas Eve. What happened to them, that innocence lost? This morning we were up front about one minute total, so it really wasn't too traumatic. With the girls dressed up and lighted trees surrounding us, we had the perfect opportunity for a Christmas photo. So here it is. Long gone are the days of my babies posing at the Sears portrait studio. (So sad...)

One of our best family traditions is to attend the concert at our church each year. This is definitely not a "holiday concert" but a Christmas concert. Through music and the word the message is clear: God's son was born to die in order to save the world. Crazy, huh? So, in spite of our fun traditions, we remember what Christmas is really about. Carl Trueman writing on church services this time of the year:

"It is foolishness and a stumbling block. Foolishness, because the very idea of the sovereign creator and ruler of the universe being born of a teenage virgin in a stable in a tiny nation of no account at the far end of the Mediterranean is utterly ridiculous. Indeed, one might say that it looks very much like proof that God cannot exist -- at least, that is, God built according to our specifications and requirements. An offence because I do not need salvation, especially salvation brought by a pre-modern peasant's child in some backward place nobody would otherwise ever have heard of." As we proclaim the message of Christmas, we should not attempt to "make Christianity look sophisticated or moral as the world understand these things. Least of all is it stand-up comedy designed to entertain those who might otherwise seek their fun elsewhere. Its agenda, especially at Christmas, is not to be determined by unbelief or what the hipsters in the Village will tolerate or what the brain's trust at MIT think is plausible."

I stand on what I know to be true. "For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes." (Romans 1:16)

Confession

2011-12-06T15:04:00.007-05:00

I have a disorder of mind and spirit. It's called "I-can't-be-bothered." The older I get the more I like to seclude myself from others and just stay home. I can explain this by saying I'm overwhelmed with all I have to do. That's why I don't teach Sunday school or cook for Alpha anymore. That's why I didn't want to serve the staff lunch or go into the city and do a work project last summer. Our family was asked to light the Advent candle at the morning service next week and my response (in my mind) was that I can't be bothered. Why us? Ask another family. (We will be doing it, however.) So when someone at church asked if I was going to the Women's Christmas Brunch, I said no, I wasn't planning to go. Why not? Well, I can't be bothered. I want to stay home on Saturday morning. I didn't say that, of course. Later, I thought I would invite a friend of mine and if she wanted to go, I would go. She said yes. Thank you, Helen!

It was a wonderful morning! Each year women volunteer to decorate a table, bringing their own special china and table settings and creating a centerpiece. I am definitely not creative enough to do this, but I so much enjoyed walking through the room seeing their beautiful artwork during the "Tour of Tables." Music played and the mood was festive. Then we had a lovely lunch, heard a speaker, played a silly game (Helen won!) and sang Christmas carols together at the end. A highlight was when I was able to introduce Helen to a single mom who has been blessed by Helen's generosity for years as she has shared her daughters' outgrown clothes with this mom who also has little girls. These two had never met and I was so glad to see them together for the first time. More than anything, this morning meant I was able to spend time with my friend and catch up with her. How can we be too busy for people we care so much about?

Helen says she knows how to decorate and we decided to do our own table next year! What about "I-can't-be-bothered"? Well, I'd forgotten that when women get together like this, there is joy. There is healing in connecting with other women, each of us with our own stories of happy times and heartbreak. We need each other.

I've just figured out what my real problem is, this sickness I have. It's called selfishness. We are not meant to live in seclusion and hoard our lives to ourselves. I hope to do better.

Five Best Toys of All Time

2011-12-05T07:15:00.004-05:00

At this time of the year, we're always looking for great toys. Someone e-mailed this to me. Check it out! (Mothers of boys, young and old, will especially appreciate it.)

"So to help you out, I’ve worked really hard to narrow down this list to five items that no kid should be without. All five should fit easily within any budget, and are appropriate for a wide age range so you get the most play out of each one. These are time-tested and kid-approved! And as a bonus, these five can be combined for extra-super-happy-fun-time." Jonathan Liu

http://www.wired.com/geekdad/2011/01/the-5-best-toys-of-all-time/all/1

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2011-12-01T07:47:00.012-05:00

Liana is learning to write different types of essays and she had an assignment. I asked her to write a narrative on anything that happened last week. Those days were loaded with many bits of kindling to spark her imagination. But my creative daughter couldn't think of a single thing to write about--so she said.

Our whole family loves this joyous, crazy, hectic season. An old Andy William's song started playing in my head when I started to write this, "It's the most wonderful time of the year...there'll be much mistletoeing and hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near..." That comes from the 24/7 Christmas music on the radio. We listen to the old songs over and over everytime we're in the car. It marks the beginning of all the excitement and we love it.

Our week began in rainy Gettysburg. The day after we got back, the girls and I, along with Lana, headed to church to cook and serve the staff luncheon. Fred volunteered us. At first I was not happy about this. The day before Thanksgiving? What was he thinking? Like I have nothing else to do that day. But I saw how much this meant to him, so I decided to serve with joy. I wasn't feeling joyful at first, but I chose to change my attitude. And it was fun with all of us together. Many people gathered at church that day to decorate for Christmas, making it a festive day. So Liana could have written about that.

The next day was Thanksgiving. We were anxiously awaiting Dominic and Stacia's arrival from DC. Arielle and Liana LOVE having them here. They constantly watched out the front window and finally announced, "They're here!" Then the rest of the family came over and we prepared to partake of our feast. As usual, I asked the kids to reflect on the past year and give thanks for their blessings. We had two weddings in the family and a baby is on the way! Much to be thankful for! Joy abounded as I listened to their testimonies. What changes this year brought.

Black Friday. It's a tradition. We all headed to the most crowded, crazy mall around. Not to shop, but to walk around and join the masses as they buy, buy, buy. The prices were good, no doubt. But for us, we just like to go and soak up the atmosphere. We always check out Santa. Since Arielle was a baby, the very same Santa has been at this mall. We always say he is the "real" Santa. He's old and kind and has a real white beard. Every year we sigh in relief when we see that he has returned. But this year, no! He was not there! Arielle was dismayed. "He's dead!" I assured her that maybe he just wasn't up to being Santa this year. (I heard he lives in Florida and returns each winter for his Santa stint.) But she was not convinced. It was sad to see this different man sitting in place of the "real" Santa. We don't like changes at Christmas.

At the mall, we sampled peppermint bark and walked around the kitchen store full of items no one really needs. Fred and Dominic waited in line forever at Starbucks, but we enjoyed people watching. We got free See's candy samples and when Fred shared his with an employee outside of Penney's, she jumped with excitement bragging to her co-workers that she is "special." Dominic and Arielle played Wii on a big screen, and then we went home for turkey leftovers.

Dominic wanted to go to a thrift store to donate a trunkful of goods he brought from home in his rented car. We found one right down the street and had a great time looking over other people's junk. The parking lot was packed there too because there was a 50 percent off sale. We found some great old videos to watch on our family nights. Stacia bought some cute little jewelry for the girls. Back home we had a rousing game of Apples to Apples. Good times with my family. I am so grateful. Liana has plenty to write about.

But the weekend wasn't over! Dominic and Stacia left on Saturday. It's always sad to see them go. Then we prepared for Arielle's birthday. She's beyond the age of little girl parties and she's happy with a gathering of family. Once again the big kids filled the house. Nick brought his little ones and I think Arielle enjoyed playing with them most of all. Arielle is Laci's special person and Arielle adores her in return. Lana, Mattie and Liana delighted in playing with their little toys. Liana is so imaginative that she can entertain the little girls for hours. Deacon kept us hopping with his constant motion. Damien and Gretchen gave us a slide show of their wedding pictures and we relived that special day. The conversation was rich and deep. A friend told me when her grown kids get together, the talk is so shallow. Not here. We've never lacked passion, that's for sure! Sometimes it heats up a little too much but my kids are fierce in their love for each other and that cools the fire.

So Liana had plenty to write about. In words we can acknowledge all we've been given and pause to give thanks. That's why I write.

"I will praise the name of God with a song; I will magnify him with thanksgiving. This will please the Lord..." Psalm 69:30, 31.

Another week of the Christmas holiday begins. We're grateful for yet one more trip to the tree farm with the girls.

Rain on Gettysburg

2011-11-22T21:33:00.010-05:00

Fred needed a little break from the demands of work, so we headed out to Gettysburg for a couple of days. This will be the third trip for the girls, so they already have ideas on what we must see and do. A meal at Ping's and another at Friendly's. Devil's Den and Little Round Top. For Liana, to see the Pennsylvania Monument (her favorite). Swimming in the hotel pool.

We enjoy our family time together but the slow and steady rain made visiting the battlefield sad and eerie. No matter how many times I hear the auto-tour CD, the horror of those three days of the Civil War doesn't diminish. Rain pours down in rivulets on the windows of the car as we peer out at the flickering flame of the Eternal Light Peace Memorial. 148 years cannot erase the tragedies suffered here. We come to remember, to learn and understand, but because of the weather, we can't balance the war stories with a lovely tramp through the woods like we did last time. We get out of the car at Devil's Den and still the rain comes down, soaking us. Fred walks on ahead and the girls take pictures. Gettysburg in cold November is different from our first trip when the redbuds bloomed a hazy purple throughout the woods.

Ping's is cozy and warm, the soft lighting welcoming us on this dark and dreary day. We all agree; it's the best Chinese food ever. Afterwards we watch the big Christmas tree being assembled in the center of the town square and once again get pictures with Abe.

Home again to get ready for Thanksgiving. So much to be thankful for this year.

Prayer for All

2011-11-14T07:33:00.006-05:00

I really fall short when it comes to praying for others. My own life and the needs of my family crowd out concern for other people. It should not be that way. "I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people." (I Timothy 2:1) But how can we pray for everyone in the world? We pray for our family, of course. When my daughter-in-law was burned badly... when Jon and his family were lost on the mountain. We pray for friends--my friend Joan and now her husband. Those are obvious and easy. But for strangers? We are blessed when we do so.

I remember praying fervently for Elizabeth Smart, the girl in Utah who was kidnapped. When she was found and returned to her family, a whole nation rejoiced. And those who had prayed had a certain joy in knowing somehow we had participated in bringing her home.

Early in the year someone asked me to pray for a friend of hers who was going through a hard time. This young woman lived in another state and I did not know her. But I prayed. Months later I actually met her and felt such love for this stranger, a tender place in my heart for her. In prayer, somehow, we enter into people's lives and see them as God sees them. I'll never forget when I read that Said Musa had been freed. I shouted to the girls that God had delivered him! We care about him, even though we will never meet him.

What can my fumbling, puny prayer do? Does God need my help? But we pray because we are told to pray. It is a mystery we can't explain. We can't pray for every hurting person in the world, but when the sadness and grief tears at your soul, pray. Pray for strangers. How about this boy Jonathan whose parents abandoned him to live alone in the Amazon jungle? He is only 15. You can read about him here. "When Compassion Becomes a Gold Rush."
http://www.aholyexperience.com/

Or Chen Guangcheng. He is a blind human rights activist who was imprisoned for five years in China for exposing forced abortions used to enforce the one-child policy. He was released from prison but during his time of house arrest he endured a brutal four hour beating in front of his young daughter. He was denied any medical care. This man and his wife are now missing and no one has been able to find them. His picture has replaced Said Musa's on my refrigerator, my reminder to pray.

Often times we need to DO something to ease the suffering in the world. Sometimes we are told to GO. Sometimes all we can do is pray. But don't discount its importance.

Update

2011-11-14T06:56:00.005-05:00

Previously I wrote about Said Musa, a man imprisoned in Afghanistan for converting from Islam to Christianity. I recently read an update on what has happened to him since then and it reminded me that we need to continue to pray for people, known and unknown. Often the grief of the world is just too much and I try to shut it out. But sometimes we are just compelled to pray. There is joy in entering into another person's life with love and concern and weeping with those who weep.

Musa is now living with his wife and six children in an undisclosed place. Their safety is still questionable. In an interview with a reporter, Musa told about his conversion. A bomb had shattered a house in his neighborhood and many people died. Musa was working with others to find survivors and two Western women were also helping dig through the rubble. Musa asked someone who they were. "Christians, followers of Jesus Christ." It was the first time Musa ever heard the name of Jesus. He thought he needed to find out who this man was. Finally he asked, "What is a Christian? Do you have a book?" Reading the Bible on his own, he found out. Weeks later he and his wife were baptized. Musa was bold in his faith and opened his home for Bible study and gatherings. He could recite the whole book of Matthew from memory. Of course, he was eventually reported and sent to prison where he was beaten and tortured.

Musa was asked how he endured his time in prison. He said at one point he was deep in despair and cried out to God. That night he had a dream and saw Jesus. Jesus spoke to him saying, "I am always with you" and Jesus gave him his hand. He woke with a new attitude. He said he saw that "his Lord was alive." His execution was imminent and Musa only asked that it be public.

He was finally released and secreted away to a new country. He says it is difficult for his family to learn a new culture and language. He still fears persecution from other Muslims. He still needs our prayers.

The Last Day?

2011-11-09T20:41:00.013-05:00

We heard the weather forecast and thought that maybe this was the last day of beautiful sunny autumn. It was supposed to be 70 degrees! So we headed off to our favorite park and were blessed with showers of colorful leaves raining on our heads and crackling beneath our feet.

#97 of my 1,000 gifts: enchantment beneath the towering trees with my husband and daughters.

Why keep a list of blessings? Ann Voskamp, who turned my attitude to gratitude rather than complaint, is in the mountains of Ecuador providing food and labor to the poor. She says, "A life contemplating the blessings of Christ becomes a life acting out the love of Christ." We are filled so we can pour out. My blessings are overflowing. What do I do with this? I haven't a clue right now. So I continue to make my list, not to glory in what I've been given, but to acknowledge the Giver and be open to whatever plans he might have.

This might not be the last day. Maybe many more warm days will follow before winter winds keep us indoors. But we really don't know how many days we have left. I don't want to miss a thing.

Panic and Prayer

2011-11-07T07:12:00.007-05:00

It had been a beautiful Saturday, sunny with the trees in full autumn glory. Darkness falls and Fred starts a fire in the wood stove and we are getting ready to watch The Santa Clause. Every year the girls look forward to watching the old Christmas movies as they count down to the big day.

A phone call. It's Damien. I immediately know something is wrong by his voice. In a rush he explains that Jon, Chrissy and Lana went on a hike on the Appalachian Trail and have lost their way. They hadn't seen any people for hours and it is dark and cold. Jon had called Damien to let him know the name of the campground where they began their hike up the mountain, "in case something bad happens." The signal for the phone goes in and out and Damien loses contact. All he knows is the name of the area and that his brother and his family are on a trail coming down from the summit. My granddaughter is only 8 years old. Damien says he has been calling Jon every few minutes since the call broke, but he can't get through.

Damien hangs up quickly so he can try to call Jon again. I just kept saying, "What?? What??" Now a million questions fill my mind. When did they realize they were not on the trail? Do they have a flashlight or are they stumbling in the dark? What kind of trail is it? How far away are they? What should we do?" My heart is pounding. Is this the way people's lives change in an instant? An ordinary day turns to a nightmare.

Fred is in the shower. I grab the girls' hands and we pray. God sees Jon and Chrissy and Lana. We pray for their safety. We pray they find their way. We pray to know what to do. Damien calls back. Jon had called him again, but they were immediately cut off. Damien is very upset, angry even, but anger is easier to manage than fear. We are struck with fear, deep and penetrating. Do we call the police? Damien says he will go look for Jon. Fred says he will join him. I go to the computer and look up this campground that I never heard of before. When I see the name of the nearby town, my fear closes in tighter. Years ago the boys and I hiked there. It is extremely steep, rugged and rocky. The campground website has a weather forecast. For that night--25 degrees. I am trying to get a grip on my rising panic so I can think straight. Damien said Jon told him they had no camping gear with them, and they were not wearing winter coats. They had begun their hike in the warm midday sun with plenty of time to return to camp.

I look up the local and state police phone numbers and write them down. This is serious. We must get help. Then Damien calls back. Jon made contact! He is back at his campsite! He has quite a story, but we have to wait for the next day for that.

Jon said Saturday morning they had driven out to the campsite, as they often enjoy spending time together as a family camping. They had decided to take a hike before settling in for the night. Jon had a lighter, a knife, and a flashlight--just in case. They hiked to the pinnacle for a spectacular view, noticing that the blue trail markers of the campground had merged into the white markings the Appalachian Trail. Many people were at the top and they did not feel any danger. They left in plenty of time to return before dark. But coming down, they did not find the blue campground markers. They continued on the Appalachian Trail, lost, not seeing a single person. Jon said as darkness fell, fear rose in him. He alone was responsible for his little family. He knew it would be dangerous to continue hiking at this high elevation among the boulders. They could fall. Lana was crying, frightened. Jon carried her but he said he could not do it for much longer. And it was very cold. They cried out to God to deliver them. Finally he realized he had to make a shelter. The lighter he thought was in his pocket was gone! There would be no fire to warm them. Then, in the distance, they saw the light of a campfire. You never leave the trail when you are lost, but they knew they must. They walked toward the light and found a group of men, startling them, because these men probably were not supposed to be camping out there in the middle of nowhere. They offered food and water and warmth. Two of these men walked them to a main road and waited with them until someone from the campground came in a truck to return them to camp.

The conclusion of this story is obvious: PRAISE GOD! He answered all of our fervent prayers.

Overflowing

2011-10-26T06:29:00.018-05:00

My son sent me a birthday card with these words on the front: "Live richly and savor all of life's offerings." I've been offered much and I do live richly. And I am always, ever grateful.

The older I get, the more joy abounds. Today I am overflowing, abundantly full. I have been granted another year to live on this earth. It is a privilege. God has filled me up with precious children, dear friends, and a good husband. What more could anyone ask for? I do not ask for more. It is enough, and when the time comes to leave this earth, I will not say that there is anything good that God has withheld from me. And all his graces have been totally undeserved.

You would have thought it was Christmas morning, the girls in their excitement, anxious for me to open gifts. There are no gifts for them, but they don't seem to care. Their joy is full in giving. I know that Liana has recently been alert to any of my sewing needs and she must have really been paying attention because I unwrap exactly the right tools I've needed--a new rotary cutter, mat, and ruler. The girls had to work for the money to get these gifts, and that makes them even more special. Liana has also painted me a picture in water color, a still life of my sewing machine and table, unbelievably detailed. I am amazed at her talent. She also designed and made me a quilted purse. It is lined and has a button closure. She used no pattern but has an incredible talent of envisioning a project and knowing how to put it together without any directions. I open gifts from my mother. How do moms know when you need jammies? Perfect timing, perfect gifts.

It's sunny and the mums are in full bloom. What a lovely October day! The girls talk me into taking a day off to celebrate my birthday so I let them decide what to do. We all go to the mall and pick up needed items. Arielle says she might get her ear pierced. Maybe... She's been talking about this for awhile. She stops by the piercing kiosk but then changes her mind. Right before we're ready to come home, she changes her mind again and goes through with it! I am so proud of my brave daughter! She had been so afraid it would hurt.

We arrive home to find gorgeous flowers at the back door. My friend Helen has stopped by. I wish I'd been home to talk with her. The flowers bring the fall colors into my kitchen. My sons call and I have e-mails from family far away. Fred and Arielle have go to church to cook for the Awana program this evening, but I plan on making a big pot of chili and apple crisp for anyone who comes by around dinner time. Liana asks, "Why are you making chili?" It's not her favorite meal. I say it's my birthday and I want chili! Just like my mother used to make. It's strange how we crave those comfort foods from our childhood. Liana helps me prepare dinner. She takes great interest in cooking and I think she will be the one to carry on the family recipes.

Soon my kitchen is filled with loud passionate conversation after Damien and Jon arrive. My friend Connie and her daughter come and I assure her that the boys are not arguing but agreeing with each other! They are discussing the important issues of life. Connie gives me a treasured gift, a collection of poems that she wrote over the summer, hand-bound. Earlier I had read a few of them, but here is the full set for me to enjoy. My precious granddaughter Lana bounces around with joy and gives me a handmade card, her drawing of a house on it. It says, "Here's your house that will keep you safe from the rain, but God will keep you safe forever!"

Damien has photos and video clips from his wedding and we relive the special moments. Gretchen begins to cry again as we watch the video of Damien singing their song for her. It's called "Stay Forever." Oh, to keep this moment forever, for all of us to stay forever together. But we can't. Children grow up and we grow old.

Just a few days after this idyllic autumn day we are hit with a Nor'easter. The girls and I are out shoveling ice and snow off the deck since Fred is called into work to plow. Huge branches crash down from our big maple, blocking the street. Under the weight of the snow we can hear the trees cracking in the woods as their limbs break, but the fall is unusually quiet as they land on the ground.

The trees are still full with leaves. This is a strange, early storm, untimely. Not what we expected. That's how life is. So we number the blessings and count our joys. Have you started your list of 1000 gifts? A day will come when the crack and break will be frightening, but the fall will be soft, and we will end as a whisper. The sun will shine the next day after the storm.

Dark Night

2011-10-26T06:25:00.013-05:00

My friend Joan's husband came to our door on a dark night two days before my birthday. He had called to say he was dropping something off. We were all in pajamas, watching a movie with the girls and planning to go to bed shortly. We opened the door to find him on the porch with a plate of blueberry corn muffins. For my birthday, he said, since I can't eat cake. Joan would have done that for me. In fact, the muffins were arranged on a plate I recognized. It was the same dish pattern I owned years ago, and Joan and I had laughed about having identical dishes. Then her husband handed me a bag of oolong tea he bought in Chinatown, the same kind of tea Joan gave me last year. I'm almost out. I so wish she were here to enjoy some tea with me. He also handed me some papers, upcoming events and information about things I might be interested in. Joan always used to save things like that. She would attach little sticky notes with my name on them.

He runs back to his car and comes in with a large tote bag. He said Joan told him to give it to me. It is her unfinished quilt. Last year we took a quilt class together to learn to make a unique regional design. I finished my quilt and gave it to Liana in the spring. Joan never completed hers. She was a perfectionist and worked with precision, not throwing things together hastily like I tend to do.

I shake my head no. No, I cannot keep Joan's quilt. She told me while she was sick that she hoped for some time to work on it. She never got that time. The quilt is not mine. I am stunned and grateful, but no. Then I told her husband I would finish it and give it back to him. Maybe he would find comfort in sleeping beneath the soft covering of colors his wife had chosen and skillfully crafted.

After he leaves I am overwhelmed with the gifts. I think of the profound mystery of marriage, the oneness Joan and her husband knew. He, acting in her place, bringing her presence here to my home. Her loss rips my heart once more. I miss my friend. I cannot fathom her husband's pain. I know what Joan would want me to do with this quilt. Give it back. I open the bag and unfold the partially pieced top. It is exquisite. I will not do it justice, me with clumsy hands. I see her small notes to herself, labels for the blocks and rows. She so much wanted to finish this work of art. I cannot look at it on this night.

The next day I unpack her bag with all the notes, her tools, and the careful squares. She is so organized that the quilt will not be hard to finish. I won't have to choose colors she might not have liked. The pieces are already there. I just need to sew them together--with the greatest of care. That would please her. I will do it for Joan. Hopefully, when it is once again in her home where it belongs, her quilt will continally remind her husband of Joan's deep love for him.

Preparation

2011-10-21T06:30:00.006-05:00

This morning I read Charles Spurgeon's questions, "Has he prepared heaven for you? Has he prepared YOU for heaven?" We know Jesus has a place for us. He told his disciples, "Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also." John 14.

What made me stop and think was the second question, that God is preparing US for heaven. It reminded me of a biography of Hudson Taylor the girls and I read recently. The story of his life as a missionary to China in the 1800's is told in Hudson Taylor: Deep in the Heart of China by Janet and Geoff Benge. Taylor, a young Englishman, knew he was called to China, but information about this faraway country in that century was hard to come by. He did know his life would be difficult, so he tried to prepare himself in any way he knew how.

"Every decision and every activity became valuable only if it moved him towards his goal. This focus on China took several forms. First, he realized he would need all the academic training he could get...Second, he needed to toughen up his body. He started with a strenuous exercise program out in the cold. He also got rid of his feather bed and began sleeping on bare boards. He gave away many things that were not essential to his daily life. When I get to China, he told himself, my body must be ready. Third, Hudson had to find some way to learn the Chinese language."

Now I don't think we need to practice physical hardships to prepare for heaven. But some of these principles still apply. Are we moving toward our goal in our daily decisions and activities? Are we encouraging others to come along too?

The main point of Spurgeon's words is that God is the one doing the work in us. What does that look like? Maybe circumstances play out in our lives to prepare us for our eternal future. Hudson Taylor knew life would be different in China. We really don't know what heaven will be like. So how can we prepare for it? But God knows. He knows what we need before we get there. Maybe even our difficult situations here on earth are a preparation for life with him. So in all things we can give thanks because it all comes from his hand. We don't exactly know everything he's doing, but that's okay. We'll be ready when the time comes.

The Wedding

2011-10-15T07:00:00.022-05:00

The time has come! The parents enter, walking past the seated guests. As I sit down I remember my camera is not with me! No time to get it. Here are my sons all standing in front, waiting for the bridal procession. My three-year-old granddaughter who is one of the flower girls does not want to stand where she is supposed to be. She runs to her dad, one of the groomsmen. He persuades her to sit beside me. She does for a few seconds, sees Arielle and runs to her. In that length of time, I missed the all the bridesmaids walking to the front! Too quickly, here comes the bride and we all rise. I hope to see the video because it seems like I missed it all.

Gretchen is breathtakingly beautiful. Damien's eyes light up. As I see him standing there, for some reason I remember him in a soccer uniform. The skinny legs, but strong and muscular, clad in shin guards and dirty cleats. My little boy, now a man. It happened in a flash. I wish I had a video of his life because I have missed so much, busy with other things.

Damien and Gretchen say tender vows. Arielle addresses the congregation, to charge us all to uphold this marriage, to encourage Damien and Gretchen and not to judge them or come between them. Then the ceremony is over. We applaud the new married couple and go to our tables, ready for a feast. The bride and groom dance and everyone watches. Then the bride and her father have a dance. Not me! Thank you, Damien.

We have a delicious meal and visit with people from long ago. Liana, Mattie and Lana can't wait for the music to begin. And when it does, they do not sit the rest of the night. With pure joy, they dance and dance and dance. Arielle gravitates to the little ones, carrying Laci around and playing with Deacon. Damien's band plays and even Damien joins in on the drums. I move to the front to see my son in action. He catches my eye and smiles.

I heard a rumor that Damien would be singing a song to Gretchen. Damien doesn't sing--ever! Not as a boy, not now. So this has to be good. He takes the microphone and begins to sing--"their song"! The crowd surges forward, sensing a very special moment. Gretchen comes to the front, sits with the band. Damien kneels beside her, oblivious to the public gaping at him, and sings to his bride. Gretchen begins to sing with him. Marissa is standing next to me watching and we both have tears in our eyes. This is a moment from a movie! I feel so privileged to witness the love my son has for his wife, to see his sacrifice in doing something difficult for him that he knew would please her.

The song ends and the crowd retreats. Women are sniffling and wiping their eyes. Later, Liana wrote a poem, "When Damien sang a song for his bride, it was so sentimental that all the girls cried."

Cake cutting. Love and respect, no smashing cake in the face. A lovely dessert table is spread for us. The evening winds down. Laci and Deacon fall asleep. It's been a lovely wedding.

The next day after the wedding, I read these words: Damien and Gretchen, "You are in our hearts...I have great pride in you; I am filled with comfort...I am overflowing with joy...I rejoice because I have perfect confidence in you..." (II Corinthians 7) God's plan is unfolding.

Preparing for Another Wedding!

2011-10-13T18:04:00.017-05:00

I have a new daughter-in-law! I've always loved Gretchen, but now she is officially part of our family. It was a glorious day for a wedding--bright and sunny and warm, with autumn peeking around the corner. We were privileged to ride with the bride to the hotel where hours of hair and make-up filled the morning and early afternoon. Two hairdresser, many girls to get ready.
We all rode in a van to the venue, our driver a little boy I knew long ago who ate birthday cake with us every December. Now he is grown of course, just like my son. I got a picture of Gretchen in the van, just like the one I took of Stacia when she was on the way to her wedding. Stacia appeared calm and reflective. Gretchen seemed bursting with joy, apprehension, and excitement.

The wedding and reception would take place in an incredible facility. In 1871, the first factory in the world for the manufacture of optical glass was built here. This building was in operation creating many different products until 2002! Then it was renovated and became an art center with galleries and art, music, and dance studios. I can see why it appealed to our artsy Gretchen. It is a beautiful old building with a lot of character. All wedding guests would even walk through an art gallery upon arriving before continuing upstairs to the reception hall. And what a great place for taking creative wedding photos! Unfortunately, I had camera problems and have very few good pictures, and none of the actual wedding ceremony!

The women and girls were secluded in a locked room so we could get ready. Gretchen's bridesmaids helped her into her spectacular dress, the little girls gathered around fascinated with her garter. Three of my granddaughters were flower girls and they needed to get into their dresses. Sashes were tied, hair fixed, new black shoes taken from boxes. Laci was wearing the same dress Arielle wore to Anthony and Kim's wedding when Arielle was four years old! The little girls had fun swirling and twirling, feeling like princesses. Soon we would all line up to make our grand entrance.

A Special Treat

2011-10-11T21:14:00.000-05:00

A gift for you: Find joy!

http://www.aholyexperience.com/

The Future

2011-10-11T20:13:00.008-05:00

Over the weekend my number three son, Damien, got married. It was a wonderful wedding! More on that later. I'm still gathering pictures. But two things happened over the weekend that got me thinking about this post.

The night before the wedding, my number two son, Dominic, drove us to the rehearsal since I just can't drive in the dark anymore. On the way home I was snuggled drowsy in the back seat with Arielle and Liana as Dominic drove, feeling totally secure in my son's hands. I thought back on how many times through the years this son of mine was crowded into the backseat with his brothers as I drove them to soccer games or scouting events. I was the chauffeur and they the children who needed to be protected. Now I need help.

Damien's best friend Jeff from first grade was at the wedding. It was great to see him again. So many memories! Jeff's parents came also and we "old" people had a chance to catch up. We talked about the good old days when our boys were little and we were young. Jeff's mother gestured to our grown sons and said, "They are us now." We step back. They go on.

I saw a glimpse of the future of our family on a hike through the park Sunday. My daughter-in-law and Liana and I were lagging behind and I noticed Dominic and Arielle up ahead. I don't know what they were discussing. They paused under a tree and then led us down the path. Dominic is already fulfilling some of his dreams, but now here is Arielle just beginning her journey into adulthood, these two trailblazers who want to change the world. I hope when I'm long gone they will sharpen each other with their visions and grand plans. I hope they will lead the family in carrying on our history and our traditions and leave a legacy to be remembered.

At the rehearsal I was talking with the young minister who would marry Damien and Gretchen the next day. He had just returned from a mission trip to Brazil where he daily risked his life in a dangerous area. I told him Arielle won't always be mine. She belongs to the world to fulfill God's purpose in her life. She's already beginning to separate from me with ideas different from mine-- secret plans and deep thoughts. She's biding her time, traveling the globe in her books, but so anxious to grow up. I want to just hold on to her. I saw this in Dominic too. I always knew he would go off and do great things. These two--excited about the future with a strong sense of justice and curiosity about people of the world. They both, with their calm demeanor, have the perseverance to accomplish their goals. What a privilege to be a mother to these children of mine!

I'm a simple person who loves home. I don't dream big. I'm content where I am. But for Dominic and Arielle...who knows what the future holds?

Fall Harvest

2011-10-07T05:55:00.004-05:00

What still clings to us that we can't see the bounty God provides? Sometimes it's hard to remove the dirt and enjoy what lies beneath. If carrots are left in the ground too long, they become bitter.

Wings on My Shoulder

2011-10-04T06:41:00.017-05:00

Yesterday we went to the Natural Science Museum in the city. Besides the fun of riding the train and walking beneath the towering skyscrapers amidst the bustling crowds, we had an unexpected gift. Butterflies!

In a small, warm and humid room laden with flowering plants, we stood awe-struck as exquisite butterflies fluttered over our heads and in front of our eyes, even landing on the floor beside our feet. Dazzling colors on their fragile wings, with unfurled proboscis they drank nectar from ripe fruit and blossoms. Moths with wing span larger than my spread fingers flew like small birds, landing on the wall to display their designs. If you were still and watching, you would see one, then another, and another in the foliage, each more beautiful than the next.

I was quiet, wanting to blend into the flowers of their world, mesmerized, and suddenly I felt the lightest touch on my right shoulder. Tiny, threadlike legs perched on my green sweater. Inches from my face, I gazed directly into the magic of this gorgeous insect pausing mid-flight. A gift--for me!

"Joy is the realest reality, the fullest life, and joy is always given, never grasped. God gives gifts and I give thanks and I unwrap the gift given: joy." (Ann Voscamp) I could not grasp this winged gift to hold or keep it. But by pausing in the moment to really see, we receive our gift. And then we give thanks to the Giver of the gifts.

Liana and Arielle were busy with their cameras taking amazing pictures, as you can see.

Our Spider

2011-09-29T06:16:00.006-05:00

Liana and I are studying spiders. We're at the end of Zoology 3 that we began last year. It's a good time of the year for spiders. They seem to be everywhere. Or maybe we are just more tuned in to find them now. We built a frame to invite a spider to spin a web so we could observe it and then planted the frame outside near the bamboo grove. Yesterday we went out to check on it only to find it was damaged from all the rain we've had. It took a long time to make, so that was discouraging.

As we folded up our project to put out for the trash, Fred said, hurry, come and check out this spider. There, right in front of the shed, was a huge spider! Huge from our perspective anyway, I guess it would not be large at all in the Amazon rain forest. It was fat and hairy, with striped legs and two white spots on its abdomen that looked like eyes. We've already learned that brown recluse spiders don't live here and black widow spiders are very distinctive, so we concluded this spider was harmless. And not scary. Liana didn't back away in fear; instead she ran for the camera and got up close trying to get a good shot.

We stood there a long time watching our spider. It was building a very large orb web and seemed to be in a great hurry. We were fascinated because we'd read about the way an orb web is constructed and this spider certainly had the directions memorized. How can a little creature be so precise? How can each strand of silk be placed in just the right spot to form this beautiful design? We watched as it raced up and down making the radial lines and then come back to the center and circle around attaching them all.

Our multitude of photos did not turn out. Liana tried hard to capture this moment but the spider was so quick in its work. It just wouldn't stand still to pose. So we imprint this special time we shared in our memory and in these words. In light of the book I'm reading, I think, what if we hadn't stopped...if we hadn't really looked... These times are the treasures of life.

We're hoping for a sunny morning so we can go out and see dewdrops on the silk and maybe get a better photo.

*********************************************

The next morning was cloudy, but we went to check on our spider anyway. It had caught a small beetle in its beautiful web. As we watched, it wrapped the insect around and around in white silk. Then suddenly, as if it just noticed us standing there, it quickly skimmed across the web and disappeared beneath the shed roof.

Naming the Gifts

2011-09-26T06:31:00.004-05:00

Three scenes run through my mind this morning. My good friend telling me, "I don't want to do this anymore." Another person telling me that thoughts of death are ever present. How do we live this short life fully, prepared for the fate of every person ever born? And then Gretchen's wedding shower, a joyful celebration yesterday, my dining room bursting with young women and their laughter amidst decorations of green and gold and pumpkin spice (and everything nice). But do we have to wait for these big events to find joy?

I haven't finished Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts. It shouldn't be read quickly. The library book had to be returned but this is a book to keep, to re-read, to live. I need to be reminded to live a life of gratitude for the simple gifts, so I ordered a copy from Amazon. I never read self-help books by the latest guru or psychologist. This is not a trendy formula of "do this and you'll be happy." It is not a "name it and claim it" false doctrine. This book is about living a God-centered life with hands open to receive all he has to give us. The beautiful and the good, along with the not-so-good. We can be thankful because all of it comes from him. Even the most difficult of life situations.

The author talks about "humanity's discontent with all that God freely gives..It scrapes us raw." What a good description. I am scraped raw by my never-satisfied, critical attitude. Then when my ugly and self-destructive habits spill over in words and actions, self-condemnation sets in. Ann says thanksgiving "prepares the way for God to show us his fullest salvation from bitter, angry, resentful lives and from all the sin that estranges us from him."

What is the remedy? "When one is thirsty one quenches one's thirst by drinking, not by reading books which treat of this condition." (Jean Pierre de Caussade) What can we DO? I've suffered many years with an attitude problem.

A friend challenged the author to name a thousand things she loves, one thousand blessings, one thousand gifts. I also challenge you to begin a list. "Not of gifts you want but gifts you have... Writing down the gifts is receiving them."

I wrote my first one on August 30th. Hot pink sunset in waning summer sky. It's a picture of how I feel sometimes, joyous color in descending darkness. Click on it and see the beauty.

Crowns

2011-09-16T06:51:00.004-05:00

It was just another task in our too busy schedule. Another aggravation to take this long drive on a rainy evening. My car had been recalled. We would need to leave it overnight at the dealership.

After dropping off the car, we got into Fred's to go home. But traffic at this time of day was crushing. We decided to wait it out a little. What to do? Fred suggests burgers. We rarely ever eat fast food, so everyone cheered the idea. We ordered and the clerk asked if the girls wanted crowns. Fred thought he said "crayons" so he said sure. The girls graciously accepted their paper crowns and then the clerk said, "How about you, Dad?" Fred said yes and promptly put his crown together and set it on his head, the girls laughing at the absurdity.

During our meal, the girls and Fred wore their crowns. I wish I'd had a camera! Fred even walked out of the restaurant still wearing his, amidst more giggles from us all. This is so not like him. We still had time to kill. Kill? No, time to enjoy each other and our evening out. We headed to our favorite bookstore and perused the shelves, looking for gifts to add to Christmas lists. (Fred would not wear the crown in the bookstore, much to our disappointment.) Fred and I relaxed with cups of coffee and the girls thumbed through a book on world records that someone had left on the table. Arielle filled us in on these foolish wonders. The wonder is right here--the four of us together, the laughter and conversation.

An errand to run became not just another irritation, but an opportunity. Parents set the tone. We can't blame the kids. So instead of taking out our frustration by bickering, our usual default mode, Fred decided the theme would be "family night out on the town." Simple things. Gratitude. It changes everything.

My Gift to You

2011-09-13T06:30:00.004-05:00

On August 15 I started to read a book recommended by a friend of mine. It starts with the author's story of a tragedy in her life. As I read the words Arielle played lively old piano pieces in the other room and Fred sat in an interview across town and Liana was out having fun with her friend and all the while lightening cracked across the sky. I read a bit, stopping to stir the ground turkey browning on the stove, pausing to think. All of this is life: grief and music, anxiety and companionship, extraordinary, untamed power of the heavens and peace in my little kitchen. What does it all mean? I noted the date because I knew this was a day that could change my life. I read the words in the book showing me how to slow down, take notice, pay attention.

This author, Ann Voskamp, is on to something. I've had the same vague truths floating about me for years. That joy is found in simple gifts, of seeing God in all things. Living with gratitude for it all. But I would never be able to write the words the way she does. It is truly the most beautiful book I have ever read.

Popular now is the "bucket list." Things to see before you die. The author says, "Are there physical places that simply must be seen before I stop breathing? Why? To say that I've had reason to bow low? To say that I've seen beauty? To say that I've been arrested by wonder? Isn't it here? Can't I find it here?"

And then..."I don't need more time to breathe so that I may experience more locales, possess more, accomplish more. Because wonder really could be here--for the seeing eyes."

So my gift to you is to suggest you read this book. Then live it and find joy.

The 8th Clan

2011-09-09T06:44:00.008-05:00

The Cherokee and their seven clan system makes them distinctive from many other Native American tribes. The Cherokee have a matrilineal society and descendents are traced strictly through the mother's side of the family. A person receives his mother's clan at birth and retains his clan for life. Cherokees intermarried with whites more than members of other Native American tribes, causing many problems with the laws of the clans. Children, who were both white and Indian ancestry, were still regarded as Cherokee by their clansmen.

Seven is a sacred number to the Cherokees. If clan affiliation is not known, it is very rare that it will be identified. There is no record of clan membership on file.

The seven clans of the Cherokee are: Panther Clan, Long Hair Clan, Bird Clan, Paint Clan, Deer Clan, Wild Potato Clan, and Wolf Can.

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We all traveled many highway miles to be together for one day. Our family from up north, two brothers and their families from down south, and all the roads intersect at a park just outside the Cherokee Reservation. We've been here many times before. So many memories fill my mind. A dark evening cooking chicken over a grill--just my mom and Fred and me. I remember not just the event, but what was stirring in my heart then. My temporary stint in Atlanta, the summer I was lost. My dear mother was my foundation of love and security, steadfast no matter where I wandered. I think of another time tubing down this same creek with my young nieces, all of us bouncing off the rocks with shrieks of laughter. Family. We change and grow but here we are, all together again. And then I think of the last time, three years ago. My brother's pain piercing us all. We upheld him with love and prayed for better times to come.

So we meet once again under the sheltering trees of the Smokies. Our time together here will be so short. One family will be here only for the day before taking to the highway again. How do you connect the years in such a short time? There is no time for deep conversation, but it is a joy to see the beloved faces and hold them close for a moment.

We have two new family members to meet--my oldest brother's fiancee and my new grand-niece. Everyone says, "You have to meet Angela. You will love her!" And we do! Then my sister brings her granddaughter, and we terrify the adorable baby with our exuberance as we crowd around her. We feast on unconventional picnic food--delicious tamales my sister has made. We take silly pictures and tell silly stories. The kids wade in the cold mountain creek. Then too quickly it is all over and we pack up the car and say sad good-byes. So many words left unsaid. Maybe too much silliness and not enough real connection. I want to know their hearts, their dreams, their regrets. Time races on. Where will are lives be at the next reunion?

All of us lay claim to Cherokee ancestry, but we do not know our clan. After spending several days with my zany family, I suggest we form a new clan. (I know, the number 7 is sacred, but really, who would take us in any of the other clans?) So I suggest we become the 8th Clan of the Cherokee, our own distinctive clan. We need a name. Please look closely at the picture below of the patriarchs of this family, and give me your suggestions for a name for the 8th Clan.

Soul Food

2011-09-06T06:28:00.005-05:00

My friend Joan's husband came for dinner. As I set the table, the place next to his was conspicuously empty. Joan should be here. Why did we never invite the two of them to a meal? Too busy and too overwhelmed with life. That's the only excuse I can come up with. My sad reason for not doing many things.

This man brings me gluten-free oat bran muffins. I am surprised he knows about these. Joan made them for me when I was first diagnosed with celiac and she gave me the recipe years ago. I coax the muffins from the tin, still warm, and arrange them on a plate. It's as if Joan has given them to me. My heart is heavy.

Joan's husband and Fred are on the deck grilling. I cut a zucchini into round disks, fruit heavy with fullness of life, fresh picked. As I dip them into beaten egg and crumbs, I pause, startled. God is here. Here in the mundane, in my ordinary kitchen and my ordinary life. He's here in the deep well of grief and he transfigures simple acts into beauty. His bounty from our meager garden can nourish an empty soul. I reach for one soft, round muffin and eat it now. The offering is sweet and filling. Sacred food.

The bowls and plates for the meal cover the empty spot at the table. We surround Joan's husband with food and love.

Coming Home

2011-08-31T13:27:00.016-05:00

We drive into Cherokee, the Great Smokies enfolding us like welcoming arms. We can rest easy here. I fled to these mountains years ago when life was chaos and uncertainty. My sister and my mother sheltered me and nourished me. I think of other times when my brothers, at their own crossroads, strengthened me. Ancient mountains, they know the secrets and pain of the past. God provided a place of healing.

As the familiar sights come into view, I think of happy times bringing my baby girls here. They dipped their toes in refreshing mountain streams and walked beneath boughs of green forest. They were welcomed and loved strong by aunts and uncles and cousins. I've never lived here, but when we pull into the gravel drive in front of my mom's house, this is coming home. The girls go up the ramp to the door ahead of us, shy. They haven't seen their grandma in three years. She draws them in with hugs and chatter and they are immediately at ease. As usual, she lays out a huge spread: her best-ever potato salad, Kentucky ham (Mom says that's the best kind too), jello with strawberries and real whipped cream, and anything you could possibly want to drink. We fill up on food and love.

Later we walk through the shops and the museum. We've been in all these places so many times before, but it's tradition! My mom doesn't seem to mind doing it all over again. The girls, older, learn more and understand more each time. The town is slow and sleepy this day. Deserted almost. Where are the tourists? Mom says it's the economy. We note which hotel has changed hands and name, which stores have closed up. Nothing stays the same. Except for the circling mountains. Their faithful presence brings us peace.

Buying Time

2011-08-31T06:58:00.001-05:00

If we actually had to buy time, would we spend it more wisely?

--Ann Voskamp

Vacation

2011-08-30T06:11:00.004-05:00

I hadn't seen my family in three years, I'm ashamed to say. No excuses. So we headed to North Carolina, a very long, long car ride. I don't do that well. Half of my childhood was spent in the car--traveling across the desert to visit my grandmother in California or spinning around the mountain roads in northern Arizona at a high rate of speed. Narrow roads and a big old car. My dad with one hand on the wheel and another around a beer can, my mother yelling at him to stop right now and let her and the kids out on the road to prevent our untimely deaths. Four of us kids bouncing around the backseat--no seatbelts--and usually me, carsick, looking out the window wondering how it would feel to careen down the cliff. No, I don't like long car rides.

When we left today a storm was brewing, the sky black. Worse than an ordinary long car ride is one in rain. I drove once from Atlanta to Philadelphia, all in one day, blinding rain. But this day we outran the storm by skipping lunch altogether until we got to Roanoke. We all played hangman while we waited for our food in Cracker Barrel, and I realized the drive wasn't so bad after all. Fred and I had time together to talk about whatever came into our minds, neither of us rushing off to the next task. I enjoyed hearing the girls sing all the way down while they listened to their ipods. Each was singing a different song at the same time. It made for interesting music. Sometimes I could even figure out what they were singing. Or else they were playing the license plate game. We are fiercely competitive with that. Fred and Liana on one team and Arielle and I on the other. You would think Fred would be at a disadvantage driving, but no. His sharp eye caught all the different state plates. He would see them way before my old eyes could even bring them into focus.

We stopped for the night in Bristol. Fred could have driven all the way, but there was no point. We did not have a room in Cherokee and it would have been stressful to drive through the mountains when he was tired. A hotel with a pool! That's all the girls need to be happy. The four of us all together without distraction. That's all I need.

More later.

Fair Days Once Again

2011-08-15T05:45:00.011-05:00

Another three days at the 4-H Fair. The girls look forward to this all summer. We've spent many days and many hours measuring and pricing fabric and sorting through donations of all kinds of sewing notions--patterns, buttons, yarn, crafts, needles, thread, trims, etc., etc.. So much stuff, but the potential to find treasures. My two big finds this year were enough matching calico for backing a quilt I already pieced and flannel to contribute to another quilt my mother started and I am finishing. All free. We workers get credit for our hours and get first dibs on the fabric. The girls brought home armfuls that will inspire them all winter.

The doors opened to our huge fabric sale on Thursday night. Crowds filled the old gym where we had carefully stacked and arranged our goods. In no time, fabric littered the floor from the careless shoppers and we were constantly re-stacking and arranging. Then my help was needed on making a baby quilt that would be auctioned off the next day. I worked with Liana and two girls who are beginners, but we finished piecing it that night. It was beautiful!

On Friday Lana came with us to the fair. She loves it as much as my girls. Then on Saturday we picked up two of my other grandchildren and spent the day with them. Every year the fair ends with an informal fashion show under the tent. Very few people watch because most have gone home. But the girls always do this just for fun. This time their teacher invited Mattie to participate. She is only 6 and too young to join 4-H now. The look on her face was priceless. She just lit up. Liana helped her design an outfit from scraps leftover at the sale and she paraded around like a big girl, proud as anything.

Sewing season is over. But we need to keep up the momentum so we stay busy and inspired until next year. I'm trying to build inventory and possibly start an on-line store.

Test Day

2011-08-09T18:27:00.008-05:00

After putting off a necessary test for six years, I finally had an upper endoscopy. Blood work long ago revealed I likely had celiac disease, but it is so easy to let go what needs to be done, especially something potentially scary and painful.

My son had this test done in Europe with no anesthesia at all. He just had a tube shoved down his throat in a doctor's office. Our medical group is much more civilized and the test was really not much of anything because I was out cold. Oh, I had some apprehension. Like when I signed a form acknowledging that the scope can kill me, or if it doesn't, maybe the drug they give me might. It was also pretty frightening to see how much co-pay was required to get this done. But I'm thankful for health insurance because otherwise it would have been out of the question to do it at all.

"Okay, now we are going to sedate you." I had an IV in my arm and I guess someone injected something into it. I don't know. I don't remember anything else. Hiccups woke me up. It was annoying when I just wanted to keep sleeping, so I tried holding my breath to get rid of them. Then I realized that if I had the brain power to think of that, I must be alive and not brain damaged from the drug--one of the side effects listed on that paper I signed. Thank God! I could hear my heart beating on the monitor and the blood pressure cuff was pumping up periodically and no alarms went off, so I figured I must be okay. I heard a nurse call Fred and tell him to come in thirty to forty minutes. So long? Let me go now. The nurse brought me cranberry juice that burned my throat and she gave me a gluten-free cookie that expired last January. I realized I only had one shoe on! How did that happen? But then I think, I had a tube down my throat exploring my stomach, and on it traveled into my small intestine where the doctor took biopsies--cut me--and I didn't even know what was happening. Amazing.

I'm writing a few hours later and I guess this is coherent. So my brain is working, I'm alive, and I'm healthy-- today. We're all just buying time, aren't we?

Family Picnic

2011-08-09T17:48:00.007-05:00

Love rushes in when there is a big hole in your heart. Kelsey and Seth will be leaving soon, so we planned a picnic in the park to see them off. We took a very short hike before grilling. Short because it was sauna weather--steamy and hot. We pretended we were in the Amazon jungle and the kids called out what animals we might be seeing along the way. Then while Damien cooked his famous chicken, the little ones manned a cold, vacant grill and imagined they were barbequeing mushrooms (toadstools?), skewering them with sticks. After several warnings about never to touch them or really eat them, we let them play.

For Joan

2011-08-08T06:32:00.008-05:00

Last Monday the ambulance came for the last time and took my friend Joan away. You are never ready for that news. On Friday we went to the memorial service at her church. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot my mind was full of memories. Over there, at the school, Joan and I had a fun night of bingo a year or so ago. We were hoping to win a Vera Bradley bag. We didn't win but we enjoyed being together that night. As soon as we entered the church I remembered other services here, baby baptisms-- joyous occasions. And the last time we came here Joan and her husband had invited us to an Irish concert. Good times. Today her casket is before us and her broken family is receiving the mourners.

Joan and I were the same age, only weeks apart. There is something special about having a friend exactly your same age. We grew up together, states apart not knowing each other then, but still we had many of the same experiences. We remembered the same songs and laughed about the craziness of that era. I met Joan before Fred and I were married. We found out we lived in the same neighborhood at one time, but never met each other then. Joan was a member of a walking club and that's what she liked to do. So I walked with her many places. We would walk with baby Arielle in her stroller, and later Liana was in the stroller and Arielle walking beside us as the years went by. The girls loved Joan. She was an aunt to them, even though she had many nieces and nephews of her own.

Joan and I took a quilting class together, and, except for color, made identical quilts. We both loved chai tea lattes and we would catch up on life while sipping our teas. Joan was a devout Catholic, but our differences never came between us. She was interested in my church as I was in hers. We talked about what we had in common instead--our faith. Joan was always looking for ways to help others. Her willingness to serve others, even strangers, was evident early on. When we took walks through the neighborhood in the morning, she would right the fallen trash cans, picking them up from the street where they had been tossed and returning them to the houses where they belonged. Oddly, that memory comes back to me. I've written before how she cared for my girls in October when Fred had surgery, arriving about six in the morning and staying until dark. Arielle was gone part of that day, so Liana has special memories of playing board games and watching Old Yeller with Joan, just the two of them.

The last thing we did together was take a class at my church: When Life is Hard. Life became very hard for Joan when she was diagnosed with cancer. She was sad and frightened. Oh, how she wanted to live! Dying is so very hard. She was honest about her thoughts and emotions and I learned so much from her. I've also written before about the turn of events that brought her to this class, and I realize now that God was drawing close to her before her time on this earth ended.

In church yesterday we heard this beautiful song. This is for you, Joan:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOzYcXaZY8k

"Sometimes the way is lonely and steep and filled with pain. So if your sky is dark and pours the rain, then cry to Jesus, cry to Jesus, cry to Jesus and live!

...And with your final heartbeat, kiss the world goodbye. Then go in peace, and laugh on glory's side, and fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus and live!"

Summer Night

2011-07-28T06:52:00.004-05:00

My grandchildren are in town visiting and yesterday they spent the day at our house. Since we only see them once a year, I always wonder how they will have changed. Having four sons of my own, I know that boys can turn into strangers at a certain age. It is very troubling at the time and you don't know until years later that they will eventually return to their former selves. So I wondered about Seth especially this year. He is fourteen.

To my delight, Seth greeted me with one of his trademark hugs, the kind that nearly breaks your ribs. He is taller and more handsome, but otherwise he is still our Seth, funny and sweet. Kelsey has grown up and matured. She handles her brother's teasing now with great patience.

It was a hot day and swimming is not available to us, so what to do? Seth is not a sitting around kind of guy so he suggested miniature golf. So that is what we did. Afterwards we made homemade chocolate chip ice cream and ate it before dinner. Grandmas can get away with that.

Damien had invited us for a cook-out. We admired his gardens and talked about how to improve the soil for vegetables. I'm amazed at my son's gardening knowledge and that I am actually asking him for advice. Jon and Chrissy and Lana came and we had great fun laughing and just being together.

You can be in the midst of some activity and all of a sudden get a sense that these are moments to treasure. You pause and take it in, wanting to hold on to them for just a bit longer. Damien had served his famous blackened barbeque chicken with the sauce glazed on it just so and we were digging in and enjoying. Lana and Liana sat side by side sharing a big chair. Lana was talking about the animals she saw at the St. Louis Zoo. Gretchen and I were discussing her upcoming wedding. Citronella candles flickered on the tables as the sun set and the dark shadows of the trees surrounded us. This is what life is about, precious family time with my children, grandchildren, and the young women that have joined our family. Ordinary times, yet extraordinary. I am so blessed.

Chicago--the Reception

2011-07-18T07:30:00.006-05:00

After the wedding ceremony the photographer was busy taking many pictures on the beautiful grounds. We joined him in taking our own. Then we all went inside for a lovely lunch. I had the privilege of sitting beside Stacia's grandparents. Once again, I wish we lived closer so I could get to know Stacia's wonderful family.

We were entertained with Irish dancers! I've never seen that at a wedding reception. What a treat! The little girls invited others to come on the stage and learn a traditional Irish wedding dance.

A wedding usually focuses on the bride. It is her big day, and rightly so. But Dominic and Stacia turned their wedding into a celebration of friends and family. They stood before us and gave tribute to family members and friends who have been an important part of their lives. They said they would not be the people they are if not for many of us. They took the glory away from themselves and gave the honor to us. It was very humbling and also very beautiful. I have never been to a wedding like this.

After the luncheon we climbed back into the van and rode to Stacia's family home for yet another meal. Her parents were so gracious to add yet another celebration time for us all. I am still in awe of their hospitality and generosity towards us. Too quickly the evening ended. We had an early flight the next morning. There were sad good-byes and thank yous that didn't seem adequate for all we had been given.

Chicago--The Wedding

2011-07-15T13:12:00.007-05:00

Chicago--Getting Ready

2011-07-14T07:32:00.014-05:00

We got up early the next morning so we could be at Stacia's parents' home to get our hair done. A stylist was there to work on the bridesmaids and mothers, and, of course, the bride. Chrissy fixed Lana's hair and Gretchen did a great job on Arielle and Liana. What fun for all of us girls to be together! Once again we were treated to such warm hospitality as Stacia's dad had prepared breakfast for everyone. After we were ready, we rode in a huge van to the wedding site. There was time for a few pictures before the big event began.

Chicago Day Two--Rehearsal

2011-07-12T07:23:00.013-05:00

We woke early the next day, still on our East coast time. I made a pot of coffee in the sunny kitchen and we feasted on the bounty Stacia's family had provided. We didn't have a lot to do since we wouldn't be meeting up with everyone until the rehearsal later that afternoon. So we eventually ventured out to explore the town. The area was so different from ours--flat, with wide open spaces of farmland interspersed with new little shopping centers and housing developments.

There were few businesses and few chain restaurants. Searching for lunch became the number one task. Damien had his GPS but it didn't give us many suggestions. Not knowing the area, we didn't want to wander too far. We headed down one road in search of something that sounded good, but it was closed. Someone remembered we had passed a little strip mall and had seen a sign that said "Tacos Locos." A very small strip mall, a very small sign. But we headed there.

Inside Tacos Locos was a pleasant woman at the counter and several small clean tables. The woman brought us menus and Damien and Gretchen, admitted food snobs, were delighted to see authentic Mexican food. Cheap! We ordered and were delighted with our meals. Great filling food! Tacos Locos will become one of those fond memories.

We met up with Stacia's family and Dominic at the venue. It was a long drive from the house where we were staying. Not long in miles, but long in travel time. Damien was beside himself with how slowly the Midwesterners drive. I found it rather refreshing. The people here do not live with the frantic pace we have. I enjoyed seeing the different little towns and the wide expanse of land all around us.

Dominic and Stacia had planned an outdoor wedding in a beautiful setting with gardens and a fountain and gazebos--perfect for photographing. I met Stacia's mother and her aunts as they bustled around setting up the decorations. Real people, authentic people. There was no pretense, no front, no cold reservedness. Each person welcomed us warmly. I have a lot to learn from their hospitality.

Family members set up a large buffet of food on tables outdoors. Stacia's mom had prepared gluten-free food to make sure Dominic and I could eat. It was delicious! Are there insects in Illinois? We didn't see any on this summer afternoon. The weather was perfect, sunny and warm. Dominic invited me to sit with Stacia's mom at their table so we could get to know each other. I think we would be friends if we lived in the same area. She is a lovely woman, open and friendly and generous. Dominic is so fortunate to become a part of this family. After our wonderful meal, we walked across the grass to the gazebo to rehearse for the wedding. It was a lot of fun watching everyone joke around and practice their parts. Afterwards we traveled the dark roads once more and rested in that peaceful home. I discovered another difference in this area and ours. Stars! We could see millions of them spread out like fairy dust across the sky! I had forgotten about stars in our neighborhood where lights from the city always intrude.

Chicago

2011-07-11T06:37:00.010-05:00

We just returned from our trip to Chicago for Dominic and Stacia's wedding. I'll be writing in parts, as there is so much to tell and recapture. Someday I hope my children will read this and know how very much I love them and how much joy this trip brought me. I know the kids all enjoyed it too! Arielle and Liana will always have these memories to make them smile.

When we arrived at the airport, Dominic and Stacia picked us up in a big luxury van and we rode in style down to the city. I watched out the window and as I saw familiar street signs, my mind went back thirty-eight years to when I first arrived here one winter--pregnant, frightened and lost in the sense that I did not know where my life was heading. I remember the birth of my son Nicholas, the rat-infested house, the streets...these same streets I am walking now. I realize we are now only a few miles from that place where I lived so long ago.

What a journey it has been, but now we are in a good place. I am with some of my beloved children and two of my soon-to-be daughters-in-law and we are walking to Navy Pier! Arielle and Liana absolutely love family events and they are having so much fun. We leisurely walk the pier and mingle with the crowd and see Lake Michigan and, most of all, just enjoy being together. Dominic bought tickets for us to see Peter Pan in a 360 degree tent theatre, so we are on a bit of a schedule, but there is still time for a nice dinner outdoors on the restaurant's patio. We take a very fast taxi ride, more like a thrill ride, to the theatre. The play is like nothing I have ever seen and very hard to describe. It is a combination of live drama, magic tricks, aerial performances, and dazzling flying scenes. In one word, it was spectacular! We all loved it. Thank you, Dominic, for such a generous gift to us all.

Dominic then drove us out to the dark quiet suburbs to stay at Stacia's grandparents' home for the weekend. After a long day, we were treated to comfortable beds, hot showers, and a refrigerator full of delicious food stocked for us by Stacia's mom. I am in awe of this family's gracious hospitality. And this was only the beginning of our trip.

Sewing Season

2011-07-05T06:57:00.004-05:00

From the time my future daughter-in-law invited Arielle and Liana to be junior bridesmaids in the wedding, I have been sewing. Months and months. There were cotton versions to make for practice and for fit. We shopped for fabric and notions. Two dresses, fully lined. I have been only sewing quilts in recent years and garment construction was an almost forgotten art. But with the encouragement of the 4-H teachers, I took on this project. Finally, finally, the dresses are finished. Here are the girls modeling my creations, along with Lana the flower girl. Lana's purchased dress only needs hemming. I see Arielle's skirt is turned up. Nothing a good pressing won't fix.

I had so much fun sewing my girls' dresses, I decided to make my own dress too. Until yesterday afternoon I was plugging away on it with a nagging suspicion something wasn't quite right. Liana adored it and thought it was beautiful. My sewing skills weren't the problem, so what was it? Wrong pattern for me? Fit not right? Arielle finally gave her honest opinion after I finished it. "It just doesn't work for you."

At this late date? After months of planning and sewing? How discouraging! And what to do now? The reason I have been doing all this sewing was to save money on formal wear. I sat outside with Fred while he barbequed trying to figure out a solution to fix it or embellish it or accessorize it or something... Sweet little Liana kept telling me she loved it and it would be fine. Then I remembered an old dress I have. Packed away in storage. Would it work? I found it. Fred and the girls all agreed, this would be perfect. It needs hemming as this dress comes down to my ankles. Sewing season continues!

Liana made me promise I will wear my dress at Christmas. It is green. Maybe that's it. The color was wrong.

Shadow of His Wings

2011-07-05T06:43:00.005-05:00

The girls and I were riding along in the car heading to our favorite clothing store. We came to an intersection where you have to crane your neck to look for cars coming down a hill. It is not a perpendicular intersection, and for some reason, it is difficult to see. At the moment I got there, I stopped, looked, saw nothing, and proceeded across. Then behind me, I heard the whiz of a car at high speed and a horn blaring. I never saw a car, not when I stopped to look, and not now. But I believe I pulled out in front of this car. It must have been in a blind spot. I was shaken. My precious daughters would have been hurt.

All the rest of our journey I kept replaying this moment, trying to figure it out. We all thanked God for protecting us. As I pulled off the exit at our destination, a huge hawk soared overhead, its shadow cast upon our car. God's answer. He gave me these special verses years ago. I know many others also claim them as their own.

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty...He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you may seek refuge." Psalm 91.

When bad things happen, people often accuse God. How could he let this happen? Bad things do happen. But for us, not today. I wonder how many times throughout life God has intervened and prevented disaster? Times we reflect on, like this day, and times we never even knew about.

Today's Bounty

2011-06-30T08:10:00.002-05:00

I harvested these beautiful vegetables this morning. We'll be eating green beans every day for the rest of the summer, along with cucumber soup, grilled zucchini, and fresh salad greens. I love this time of year! God is gracious to give to us the fruit of our labors.

We Have a Winner!

2011-06-29T06:21:00.005-05:00

Last night the girls competed in the seven county regional fashion revue for 4-H. They have gone in previous years and it is a fun day of crafts and community service projects culminating in a fashion show in the evening. The county competition a few weeks ago was very stressful because both girls wanted to be able to go to regionals. But once there, the pressure was off. They just looked forward to it as a day to enjoy.

Fred, Marissa and I arrived early to get a front row seat and once again I was stunned by the beautiful outfits created by all these children. There are two divisions--13 years old and up are seniors and 8 to 12 year olds are juniors. So we had a girl in each. That was a good thing because Arielle and Liana were not competing against each other and even had different judges.

Most of the junior girls made summer cotton outfits, so Liana had a good chance with the formal jacket and dress she made. When they announced her as a winner, you would have thought she won a million dollars. She was thrilled! And I was happy for her. She worked so hard to make this very difficult outfit. Arielle had to compete with high school girls who designed their own prom gowns or created winter coats and business suits. She also worked hard on her dress and it looked so cute on her, but it was not her night. She accepted this and talked all the way home about the fun she had with her friends. Liana was quiet about her win. Maybe she wanted to treasure that moment in her heart when she posed on stage with the rest of the junior winners while the cameras flashed.

Recharged

2011-06-27T06:57:00.008-05:00

Two family weekends in a row! Marissa came over to share the day with her dad on Father's Day, so we had to have another "Daddy and Daughters" picture. Then Damien and Gretchen invited us to a cookout to honor Fred and Gretchen's dad.

On Saturday, again with Gretchen hosting, we had a bridal shower for Stacia. What fun to be with all the girls of our family! Gretchen's mom joined us too, and she fit right in. She also is part of our family since Gretchen and Damien plan to marry in October.

With all the sadness of the past few months, I was so blessed to spend time with our large, lively family. You have all recharged my battery! Thank you!

Girls' Night Out!

The Bride-to-Be with Liana and Lana

Guinea Pig Questions

2011-06-21T07:21:00.010-05:00

If our guinea pigs could talk, they would probably ask us these questions:

1. Why can't we have a treat every time you open the refrigerator?

2. Why do you frighten us by taking us out of our cages once a week?

3. Why do you hold us down and cut our nails when we hate this?

4. The boys would ask, why can't we play with the girls?

5. Why can't we roam free outdoors?

6. Why were we packed into a dark, scary box and taken to the vet who hurt us with a needle?

If we could talk to them, we might say, "You guinea pigs know nothing about nutrition, hygiene, reproduction, safety, or health." But they would not understand our answers, so we don't try to explain. They are animals with limited brain function. How could they begin to understand our lives? How could we explain reading or driving or cooking or any of the many tasks we do every day? We are so different from them, even though humans and guinea pigs are both mammals. If we could actually speak to them, we might simply say, "Trust us. We care for you."

Humans are made in the image of God, but still, we are very different from God and limited in our understanding of his ways. Even so, we continually question him. This questioning has been going on for a long time. Job in his suffering asked many questions. "Why wasn't I born dead?" "Why give light to those in misery, and life to those who are bitter?" "Isn't calamity for the unrighteous and disaster for the workers of iniquity?" Basically, "Why am I suffering?"

Habakkuk lived while the Babylonians were wreaking havoc on his land. He questioned God, "How long will I cry for help and you will not hear?" "Must I forever see these evil deeds? Why must I watch all this misery?" "Why are you silent while the wicked swallow up people more righteous than they?" The real questions we have are, "Is God just? Does he care?"

How did God respond to these questions and does God mind if we ask him questions? If you read the conclusion to Job and to Habakkuk, God really doesn't answer with specifics. He answers Job with a question, "Who is this that questions my wisdom with such ignorant words?" followed by many other questions that tell us simply that God is God and we are not. He says Job doesn't know what he's talking about. God tells Habakkuk to wait patiently and it will all work out in the end. He would get an answer in time.

I don't think God minds our honest questions as long as we accept his answers. A couple of people asked Jesus, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus had one man quote the Law. This man said, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself." He then asked Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?" Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan. The man didn't expect that answer. He didn't want to love people like that.

The other one who asked this question was the rich young ruler. Jesus told him to sell all that he had and give to the poor and then to come and follow him. This man didn't want to hear that answer. He thought Jesus would commend him for his good works. So if we ask the questions, we need to be ready for the answers. And when we don't understand or when God is silent, we just trust him.

Jesus asked a very human question. "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" God did not answer at that moment. But God promises never to forsake us. He is not indifferent to suffering. He can be trusted. Someday we might know the answers to the hard questions.

Maybe more important than our questions is how we respond to Jesus' questions. He asked Peter, "Who do you say that I am?" At Lazarus's death, Jesus said to Martha, "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me shall live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?"

Will you answer as Peter and Martha did?

Garden Therapy

2011-06-15T20:53:00.006-05:00

I have been very discouraged lately. Last week was one of the most stressful weeks I've had in a long time with too many things to do. The girls were getting ready for their fashion show and I was getting their portfolios ready to take to the evaluator and all this activity seemed so trivial in light of the suffering of beloved people.

Fred is overwhelmed at work and exhausted because he gets little sleep. He always keeps the garden so neat, never a weed in sight, every row of vegetables so orderly. But he can't keep up and I know it really bothers him that he can't do it all. Since I get up early, I have been going out to weed. Yes, we all enjoy the garden, but it has been mostly Fred's project in the past. The girls and I help to plant and we harvest, but the maintenance has always been Fred's job.

The first day I did the bean rows. The eastern sun rose golden, and the gnats were still asleep. Birds dove and flew from tree to tree, calling out loudly to others. Furry bees visited the lavender. The sound of the woodpeckers echoed through the woods, drowning out the humming of the morning traffic in the distance. The earth was moist from earlier rain and the weeds came out easily. The work calmed my heart. I would like to say I used this time for fervent prayer, but communion with God was not in a verbal sense. I enjoyed just being at this spot in this moment of time.

The next day I did the tomatoes and eggplants and peppers. Blossoms everywhere! Are they early this year or is time flying by? It seems we just planted this garden. I worked until the gnats arrived. A baby rabbit emerged from the hedges and nibbled tentatively at bird seed below the feeder. Hide, baby, hide! Hawks soar nearby. But he is safe for now. Again, peace came to my soul. I am grateful for life, for strength to dig and pull. God also "walked in the garden in the cool of the day." I share that with him.

This morning we met with the evaluator. I couldn't work early but went out at dusk to weed the lettuce and radishes and spinach. No gnats! Just peace...and quiet. The birds returned to their perches in the bamboo, settling in for the night. The lights in our windows came on as my family also settled in after a busy day. Our little plants are strong and healthy, not an insect in sight to plague them. They will produce an abundance of nutritious food for us. Blazing sun in July will threaten to burn them and violent thunderstorms will beat them down. But they will survive.

How Beautiful

2011-06-01T16:12:00.004-05:00

How beautiful the feet that bring,
The sound of good news and the love of the King,
How beautiful the hands that serve,
The wine and the bread and the sons of the Earth,
How beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ.

Do you know that old Twila Paris song? It has been running through my head lately as I grieve for my good friend J who is suffering from ovarian cancer. Less than two months ago doctors discovered a tumor and she had major surgery. In five weeks time the tumor grew back and she is now in hospice care.

Our church was offering a women's Bible study, only six weeks long, on Wednesday mornings. Years ago I was very involved in Bible studies, but with homeschooling my children, it just got to be too much and I retired. One of the classes seemed to be valuable to me at this time though--a video series called "When Life Is Hard" by James MacDonald. This man did a series of teachings while he was suffering from cancer. I thought maybe I could gain insight into how to help J through her suffering. But then I decided not to go. I didn't think I could take the stress of a long morning commute in all that traffic when I was trying to finish school with the girls.

But then someone asked if my girls could help with childcare for the moms during these six-week studies. Then I knew I had to go. It was appointed for me to be there. My friend J had just had surgery or I would have asked her to join me. At the very first meeting, the women went around the table and introduced themselves and said why they were there. Our table leader started. She said several years ago she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I was so startled, my mouth flew open. I had randomly chosen that table to sit down and here was this woman who had suffered just as my friend was now.

After J came home, I showed her my books and shared some insight I heard at our first meeting. She said, "I wish I could come." Yes, I wish she could too. But she was very weak and recovering from major surgery. A couple of days later she said again how she wanted to come. I didn't see how she could go out all morning when she was in so much pain and discomfort. So finally she flat out asked if she could go with me. Of course! So for three weeks I picked her up and took her to class. As they are in all the Bible studies I've ever been to, the women were gracious and kind. They listened to J and offered their support. Our table leader especially understood her fear and concerns and made a connection with her.

Then J got bad news. A scan showed her tumor was back, more aggressive than ever. She was admitted to the hospital. J would not return to class. The next week I came without her and these beautiful women, who didn't even know J before this time, prayed heartfelt prayers with tears for her. They wrote precious messages for me to give to her. They offered any kind of help she might need. How tender their hearts are for J. How beautiful! The body of Christ. The class is over now, but the women have not forgotten. They continually ask about J.

"If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it." I Corinthians 12:26.

Perspective

2011-05-29T21:00:00.006-05:00

I've been discouraged lately. Suffering surrounds us. Is this what happens at my age? Fred and I have each lost a sister and my best friend from junior high lost her brother recently. Several friends have cancer and another friend's child is breaking her heart. Our parents are getting old and may not be long in this world. How do we survive this stage of life with all its sadness? How do we get past the fear of what may happen next? How do we minister to those suffering around us?

We live in a corrupt, broken world. Some people do evil things. Our beautiful creation is polluted and toxic. It's no wonder we get sick. It is easy to slide into hopeless despair, and then bitterness, complaining, and defeat.

But this is not the way the world was meant to be. No wonder we never quite feel at home in it. All creation is groaning and waiting in expectation for a world to come.

"We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair, persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies...

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." (Paul writing in II Corinthians 4)

I always get stuck on the phrase "light momentary affliction." I think, what my friends are suffering is not light and momentary! What did Paul suffer anyway? He endured imprisonment, beatings, stoning, and shipwreck. His life was constantly threatened. That doesn't sound light and momentary either. But then we realize the passage says "beyond all comparison." COMPARED to what lies ahead, these trials are light and momentary. "For we do not have a lasting city, but we are seeking the city to come." (Hebrews 13:14) Our lives on this earth are so short compared to eternity, the place where God wipes away every tear, and there will no longer be any death, mourning, crying or pain.

C.S. Lewis ends his Chronicles of Narnia with these words:

“But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

Our Father's Hand

2011-05-29T11:28:00.007-05:00

Grieving for my friends traveling treacherous roads, I was thinking of this story by Corrie ten Boom. Then I remembered I've already written about it here on this blog. But Corrie's words are worth reading again.

http://mininginthemorning.blogspot.com/search?q=corrie+ten+boom

Trivial Pursuits

2011-05-24T07:05:00.003-05:00

I have been reading Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business by Neil Postman. It is a very interesting (and alarming) commentary on our culture and its love affair with television. The book was written in 1985 but is even more pertinent today. Did you read Orwell and Huxley mentioned below in the foreward of Postman's book? I read them in high school, when I didn't care about anything except my own little world. Now, the older I get, I am so frustrated by the shallow, empty, mindless pursuits of the people of this country.

"We were keeping our eye on 1984. When the year came and the prophecy didn't, thoughtful Americans sang softly in praise of themselves. The roots of liberal democracy had held. Wherever else the terror had happened, we, at least, had not been visited by Orwellian nightmares.

But we had forgotten that alongside Orwell's dark vision, there was another - slightly older, slightly less well known, equally chilling: Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Contrary to common belief even among the educated, Huxley and Orwell did not prophesy the same thing. Orwell warns that we will be overcome by an externally imposed oppression. But in Huxley's vision, no Big Brother is required to deprive people of their autonomy, maturity and history. As he saw it, people will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.

What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny 'failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions'. In 1984, Huxley added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us.

This book is about the possibility that Huxley, not Orwell, was right."

Psalm 91

2011-05-19T06:01:00.001-05:00

My favorite Psalm set to music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YvhWTWpNWL0

Art Museum

2011-05-16T06:50:00.008-05:00

Through the generosity of my friend, we had an opportunity to visit the art museum in the big city at no cost. We wanted to see the Roberto Capuzzi exhibit that all the teachers at 4-H were talking about, but the price for three of us to go would have been prohibitive.

Roberto Capucci is an Italian fashion designer and artist. The dresses he creates are so amazing that many of them are considered sculptures. Since Arielle and Liana sew, I knew they would appreciate the intricate designs and elegant fabrics and brilliant colors of this exhibit. Capucci was inspired by elements in nature, which was especially fascinating to us. Some of his dresses resemble flowers or butterflies. Some incorporate bamboo, stones, leaves or straw. Truly incredible! The 4-H teachers were planning an adult "field trip" to the museum. I would never have gone without my daughters! I wanted to share this experience with them.

I have never driven to the museum myself and the traffic makes me crazy. I didn't think Fred would appreciate the exhibit. So who in our family is artsy and creative and might like to go too? Gretchen, my future daughter-in-law, and Marissa, my step-daughter! So the five of us headed off on a beautiful spring morning down the highway infamous for traffic jams and delays. But none for us today.

After the exhibit we wandered around the museum, but not long enough! The night before we had gone on-line to check out famous paintings we wanted to see. So we found a few, but then it was time to go home. Again, concerns about traffic.

Thank you, my friend, for giving us this special time. My girls' lives are richer for it. I saw the wheels turning in Liana's head as she viewed the incredible dresses. Later, she spent all of Saturday creating her own design, unique to her, but I could see traces of Capucci in it. When she is finished sewing it, I will post a picture.

Planting Day

2011-05-10T06:54:00.005-05:00

Mother's Day was one of those perfect kind of days. Sunny and warm and bright with fluffy flowers on the trees and blazing azaleas adorning homes. Church was crowded and I couldn't sit with my son and daughter-in-law, but my precious granddaughter squeezed in beside me.

At home, we needed to plant the garden. Fred had already put in some potted vegetables and said he would do the seeds so I could work on the wedding dresses. I knew I had to help him. It is backbreaking work. The sewing would just have to wait for another day. The girls ran out to make chalk drawings in the driveway. I got on my ragged gloves and old sneakers and headed out. I would have missed a blessing if I'd stayed inside.

Fred and I worked side-by-side and planted everything. Fred works so hard on the garden all season. It has really become his "baby" and not mine anymore. So I follow his lead and do things his way, even though my years of gardening experience vastly outnumber his!

We planted two packs of green beans. Be ready to receive the bounty, friends and family! I'm already envisioning the sweaty, painful work of harvesting them. Maybe I'll invite you over to pick your own!

Damien and Gretchen and Marissa came over. The deck is being renovated due to carpenter ant invasion, so we sat in chairs in the middle of the yard and watched the girls play badminton. Fred cooked out some burgers. We called the sliders because all we had were hot dog rolls. We cut them in half and made these tiny meat patties to fit on them. The children who couldn't come over called, so I was able to connect with each one. Later, Marissa, Arielle and I sat in the kitchen eating goodies and talking like three old women. I really am becoming my mother. That is her favorite activity too.

It was a blessed day.

In Sickness and in Health

2011-05-02T06:55:00.004-05:00

My son is getting married this summer and we are in the midst of wedding excitement. The girls are to be junior bridesmaids, so their dresses have to be made, and they are constantly discussing shoes and jewelry and hair. And that is nothing compared to the anticipation and preparations of the bride and her mom! What a beautiful picture of marriage when the day culminates in the vows and exchange of rings and a new couple is announced to the world.

My good friend is seriously ill. She has been married many years--probably 30 something. When I visited her a few days ago, her biggest concern was not for herself but for her beloved husband. She was worried he is doing too much and not taking care of himself. She spoke of his total devotion to her in her time of need, his vigilance in never leaving her side. The endless, sleepless nights they shared, his attending to her every need. She said, "In sickness and in health..." Yet, his gift was overwhelming and amazing to her. What an honorable man! What an even more beautiful picture of marriage.

I found out a woman in our church will have surgery this week--a kidney transplant. The donor is her husband. What a sacrifice. He is risking his own health to give life to his wife. "Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself up for her." (Ephesians 5:25) This is the mystery of marriage.

My son and his new wife will have a joyous wedding day in July, and they will share many other celebrations in their married life. Unfortunately, they may share pain too, and they will be called to sacrifice for each other. It is not to be grieved though. It is a high calling. Jesus said there is no greater love than to lay down your life for another.

Easter

2011-04-26T13:47:00.007-05:00

It was a glorious day, warm and green. Dominic and Stacia came for the weekend. Our house was filled with kids and laughter. Arielle served breakfast at church with her middle school class. We sang "Christ the Lord has Risen Today." Life doesn't get much better than this.

Parting Words

2011-04-21T06:46:00.004-05:00

Psalm 23:4. "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me."

Whatever dark places we have to travel through, God promises to be with us. What a comfort that is! But it would be nice to have a human alongside of us too.

II Corinthians 1: 3-5. "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too."

God has been with us in all our troubles of this life. With the same comfort we have received, we are to comfort others. It's a frightening place to go, taking a friend's hand through the valley of the shadow of death. My first impulse is to run away.

A friend once told me she is a good listener. (I agree.) She says she is good at visiting people in the hospital, just sitting with them and providing comfort. I admire her. I hope if I'm the one in the hospital, she will visit me. I would be strengthened and encouraged by her presence. Even now, this woman is traveling through the stormy night with not one, but two friends of hers.

I'm not so confident of my comforting skills. Maybe I was traumatized when I was a very young nurse working on the oncology floor of a large hospital. The suffering of people was devastating to me. I felt so helpless to comfort, so powerless to help. I still feel that way. Friends, I am praying for courage to walk with you and climb into that boat as you battle the winds and waves.

On this Maundy Thursday, the day we remember as the Last Supper, I am thinking about Jesus' parting words. He washed his disciples feet and said to them, "I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you." Then he said, "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know you are my disciples if you have love for one another." John 13.

"Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13.

Hope

2011-04-18T20:59:00.004-05:00

Storms tore through our area over the weekend. High winds whipped the trees and all night we heard the cracking of their huge trunks as they bent this way and that. Rain pounded the windows as we watched for the tornadoes coming up from the south.

Palm Sunday. Brilliant sunshine shone over the new grass shimmering green. Trees are in full bloom. The storm is over. At church we heard the best sermon ever on Romans 3. We ran errands afterwards, just enjoying our tasks and being together as a family. In the afternoon Fred did what he loves most--puttering around the yard. He played in his shed with all his "toys." He rode his mower around. I told the girls no TV, no computer this day. So they spent hours outside making chalk designs in the driveway. And I did what relaxes me the most and relieves my stress--sewing! In the quiet of my little basement room I can think and relax as I work my fingers in the fabric and listen to the whir of my sewing machine. At one point my friend in the hospital called and we had a nice long conversation and even a few laughs. She is an amazing, courageous woman traveling this scary journey. The storm clouds scattered away momentarily to let us glimpse the sunshine.

Are you an optimist or a pessimist? Liana and I were discussing this because these two words were on her spelling list. An optimist has the expectation that in a given circumstance, good will result. This is not bad, and I would say I am an optimist. But this thinking can often lead to disappointment because sometimes, in a practical sense, good does not result. Hope, in the spiritual sense, is different. It has nothing to do with circumstance or results. It is a confident expectation that God is in control and has purpose in our experiences. Here is the Biblical definition:

"And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has been given us." Romans 5:2-5.

I read that early medieval monks would greet each other in the hallways by saying, "Remember your mortality." We pretend that every sickness will be healed and that we will never have our lives threatened. We are horrified when the results are different. This quote made me think:

"Death unaddressed is the bogeyman in the basement. It keeps us looking over our shoulders and holds us back from entering joyously into the days we are given. But death dragged out from the shadows and held up to the light of the gospel not only loses its sting, it becomes an essential reminder to wisely use the life we have.

When we remember the mortality of those around us, they become more valuable to us. Madeleine L'Engle once noted that when people die, it is the sins of omission, rather than commission, that haunt us...And remembering our own mortality helps reorder our priorities; a race toward a finish line has a different sense of purpose and urgency than a jog around the block." Carolyn Arends

On Stormy Seas

2011-04-14T06:37:00.011-05:00

"Immediately Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side of the sea while he dismissed the crowds. And after dismissing the crowds, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but the boat by this time was a long way from the land, beaten by the waves, for the wind was against them. And in the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, and said, 'It's a ghost!' And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying 'Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.'" Matthew 14:22-27.

What I find interesting about this passage is that Jesus "made" them get into the boat, to go on ahead of him. The disciples found themselves in a tempest on the sea, but not because of anything they did wrong. It was not a random accident or because of poor choices they made. They were there because Jesus told them to go there. Jesus knew there was a storm brewing and he sent his friends into the midst of it.

Can you imagine what the disciples thought? First of all, they were fishermen. They had surely seen storms before, but this one really frightened them. They knew what the outcome could be. But they also knew Jesus could calm the winds and waves. Just a few chapters back, Matthew records another bleak night on the sea. Jesus was asleep in the boat when his disciples woke him up to save them from the storm. But where was Jesus now? It was the fourth watch of the night--between 3am and 6am. These men had been struggling for many long hours.

You know Jesus is aware of the storm. He knows everything! But where is he? Why would he do this? His people desperately cry out to him. Then Jesus comes to them. But the disciples are terrified and don't recognize him--until they hear his voice. "Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid."

When we can't see him, we must trust him. We watch for him when the thunderous waves rage against us and our boat threatens to dump us into the sea. We wait to hear his voice. Jesus is close. He promised he would never leave us to face the storm on our own.

A little verse by Charles Spurgeon sums it up:

"O angel of my God, be near, Amid the darkness hush my fear; Loud roars the wild tempestuous sea, Thy presence, Lord, shall comfort me."

Trials of Faith

2011-04-08T06:12:00.001-05:00

"Faith untried may be true faith, but it is sure to be little faith, and it is likely to remain dwarfish so long as it is without trials. Faith never prospers so well as when all things are against her: tempests are her trainers, and lightnings are her illuminators. When a calm reigns on the sea, spread the sails as you will, the ship moves not to its harbour; for on a slumbering ocean the keel sleeps too. Let the winds rush howling forth, and let the waters lift up themselves, then, though the vessel may rock, and her deck may be washed with waves, and her mast may creak under the pressure of the full and swelling sail, it is then that she makes headway towards her desired haven. No flowers wear so lovely a blue as those which grow at the foot of the frozen glacier; no stars gleam so brightly as those which glisten in the polar sky; no water tastes so sweet as that which springs amid the desert sand; and no faith is so precious as that which lives and triumphs in adversity. Tried faith brings experience. You could not have believed your own weakness had you not been compelled to pass through the rivers; and you would never have known God's strength had you not been supported amid the water-floods. Faith increases in solidity, assurance, and intensity, the more it is exercised with tribulation. Faith is precious, and its trial is precious too." Charles Spurgeon

Snow in April

2011-04-06T06:39:00.008-05:00

Untimely.

We didn't expect it. It was inopportune, inconvenient, inappropriate, unseasonable. All those "not" prefixes.

Someone I know was just diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, late stage. I keep thinking about his response, "I'm so disappointed." He had plans for the future, more he wanted to do with his life. Hopes are now dashed.

These shockers are not our plans. We have our own expectations. When you are young, you really believe you have control over the events of your life. As you get older, your foundations are shaken and you realize how helpless you really are to avert disaster and disease. So do we live our lives in fear?

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

A time to break down, and a time to build up;

A a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

A time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to seek, and a time to lose;

A time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to tear, and a time to sew;

A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;

A time for war, and a time for peace.

"I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart...there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man." (Ecclesiastes 3)

Enjoy God's gift of life. Only he knows the number of our days.

Reconnected

2011-03-31T06:38:00.014-05:00

This week our church hosted its annual time of promoting missions. Missionaries come home from their posts all over the world and interact with the people in different ways with meals and lectures. Money is raised for a variety of projects. This year the funds will be given to Haiti to build a school there. The kids' program is very popular and every year I take my daughters for at least a couple of days. They begged to go EVERY day this time, so how can I say no? This week Arielle was a helper and Liana an attendee. Liana gets to see her friends, do a craft, eat food from another country and learn about its culture (this year Taiwan). Even though the kids' program is four days straight, adults do not have something every night. So what do we do? Monday I stayed to help out. Tuesday Fred and I had a date night! We spent the time drinking coffee and reading books in our local bookstore.

Last night was a special program for women. No men allowed. It was a mystery as to what we would do, but I decided to check it out. I am so glad I did. Two hundred and twenty women and teen girls arrived for the event. Six women missionaries from various parts of the world were seated up front and very candidly shared some of their struggles. The point was that we all have issues and that they shouldn't prevent us from serving somewhere, doing something. One woman has challenging health issues. One has difficulty living in a different culture that has no sense of time or urgency. One is single and extremely lonely. One has small children and feels her life is on hold because she is not useful to others. One is overwhelmed with all the work she has to do. One has issues with self-image. One is just plain tired and irritable. (That's more than six, so some women have more than one issue!) Just as we all do. And all their "issues" are common to all women, except I guess most of us don't have to deal with living in another culture.

We also had time to interact with other women who attended. I ran into many of the young women I taught years ago in Bible studies. Precious, beautiful young women, their children I knew as babies growing up. It was like a family reunion seeing them again. The openness and vulnerability of the speakers seemed to give us the freedom to share our own issues with others. Women are struggling with marriage problems, death of parents, kid problems, illness. We connected on a deeper level and encouraged each other. I came home renewed and refreshed. Women need other women. I've missed that.

Needed: More Prayer

2011-03-30T06:54:00.017-05:00

There are many reasons why we should be praying. The needs of the world are great, and we will never be at a shortage of things to pray for. We pray because God answers prayer. For many years I have kept journals of my prayer requests for myself and others and have checked them off as they were answered. God hears us when we pray. We draw close to him and are encouraged not to give up. We enter into his work when we add our prayers to those of others and his will is accomplished on this earth. We enter into his presence when we are quiet and listening. Jesus prayed-- a lot! If he needed to pray, we certainly do. But the number one reason to pray is that scripture tells us to do it. God doesn't need our help to get things done, surely. But we are told to pray.

Luke 18:1 says Jesus told them a parable to show that they "ought always to pray and not lose heart." I Timothy 2:8 says "I desire then that in every place the people should pray." I Thessalonians 5:17 says to "pray without ceasing." James 5:16 says, "Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power." I Timothy 2:1 says, "I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people." Pray all kinds of prayers for all kinds of people.

Charles Spurgeon has some advice on serious prayer, the kind Jesus prayed in the garden before his death. The all-alone-with-God, on-your-knees kind of prayer:

"Family prayer, social prayer, prayer in the church, will not suffice, these are very precious, but the best beaten spice will smoke in your censer in your private devotions, where no ear hears but God's. Jesus' prayer was humble prayer. He fell on his face to the ground. Humility gives us a good foothold in prayer. There is no hope of prevalence with God unless we abase ourselves that He may exalt us in due time. Jesus prayed, 'Abba, Father.' You will find it a stronghold in the day of trial to plead your adoption. Nothing can forfeit a child's right to a father's protection. Don't be afraid to say, 'My Father, hear my cry.' Observe that it was persevering prayer. He prayed three times. Cease not until you prevail. Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving.

"Lastly, it was the prayer of resignation. 'Not as I will, but as you will.' Yield, and God yields. Let it be as God wills, and God will determine for the best. Be content to leave your prayer in his hands, who knows when to give, and how to give, and what to give, and what to withhold. So pleading, earnestly, importunately, yet with humility and resignation, you will surely prevail."

A message for us all: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6, 7.

Good Old Cat

2011-03-23T20:27:00.004-05:00

Nineteen years ago when our family was going through a hard time, I brought home two orange kittens with blue eyes. We laughed at their antics during a time of tears. One son took one of the cats, the other became Damien's and mine.

I am not a cat-person. I think cats have some very annoying traits. For example, my cat Squiggy wasn't big on the litter box, so he quickly became an outdoor cat. He loved being outside though, catching mice and birds and wandering the woods behind our apartment complex. Later, he moved to Atlanta with us, riding on the seat next to me in the big Ryder truck for 14 hours. Squiggy did not like Atlanta. He couldn't go outside and, once again, did not like the litter box either. We began a love-hate relationship.

We moved back to the same apartment complex. Here is the story often told about Squiggy: He must have been disoriented after arriving because he wandered off. No one could find him. Damien would walk through the woods and call to him, day after day, but we had no idea what happened to him. Lost, we decided. Poor Squiggy.

Another day, and once more Damien was combing the heavily wooded forest, calling out, "Squiggy!" as he walked. Then, "Meow." A small cat voice off in the distance. Damien continued to call and Squiggy kept answering. Damien followed the meows and there the cat was, hiding in a field of grasses.

We moved again and Squiggy became King of His Domain. He had more woods to explore and territory to claim. Vicious battles with other cats were fought over his land. He almost lost an eye once. But I'd hate to see what his opponent looked like.

We worried about him. He often trotted down to the busy road near our house. We would stop our car when we saw him and yell at him to go back home, and he would. On Sundays he visited the church across the street and hung out in its parking lot, relishing all the petting he received from the church-goers. Since he lived outside, he would join us in whatever we happened to be doing. He watched us garden and he would lie down near the kids when they were on the swingset. If we took a walk, he would follow us like a an obedient dog. I grew to love him.

About two years ago Squiggy had some sort of accident. Fred found him in the bushes near death. We brought him inside and he began his retirement in the basement. Remarkably, he recovered. He never gained his ability to jump again, but he lived in comfort in our warm laundry room.

This week we noticed Squiggy failing. He could barely stand; his cry was weak. He would still greet us and rub on our legs and purr if he was petted. He got worse. He was breathing heavily with his mouth open. I called Damien to let him know Squiggy might not have much time, so Damien came by after work last night. We both agreed Squiggy was suffering. We called the vet and we were told to bring him right in.

Squiggy did not go gentle into that good night. He fought with a strength I hadn't seen in years. On the drive over he bit me (something he's never done in his life) and he bit Damien when Damien carried him inside. We were told he would be sedated and then we could visit with him a little before the IV was started. But that didn't happen. I guess the stress of driving and moving him caused his poor old heart to quit.

I came home to find Liana on her bed, tears streaming down her face. She had drawn a beautiful picture of Squiggy and wrote this poem. Her way of dealing with her emotions, and mine too, I guess, since I am writing today. Squiggy was a good old cat. He was ours, a part of the family.

Squiggy

April 2, 1992 to March 23, 2011

Squiggy loved the outdoors
Where he could be wild and free,
He was strong, so no other cat
Dared to mess with Squiggy,
So strong, yet so kind to children
Who passed by,
There was a wild gleam in his
Beautiful eyes,
Which showed people how loyal he was,
His owners gave him so much love,
Till that day when his heart stopped,
19 good years to remember,
Now, then and forever.

History of the World

2011-03-23T07:02:00.008-05:00

I am reading through the book of Acts and came across Paul's address to the people of Athens.

So Paul, standing in the midst of the Areopagus, said: “Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are very religious. For as I passed along and observed the objects of your worship, I found also an altar with this inscription, ‘To the unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything. And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, that they should seek God, in the hope that they might feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, for in him we live and move and have our being... Being then God's offspring, we ought not to think that the divine being is like gold or silver or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of man. The times of ignorance God overlooked, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed; and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead. Now when they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked. But others said, “We will hear you again about this.” So Paul went out from their midst. But some men joined him and believed.
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Well, that about sums it up. Creation to Adam to the nations of mankind to Jesus to the end of the world. God has allotted our time on earth and where we would live, and our purpose is to seek him and find him.
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Back then people responded the same as they do now. Some mock, some question but desire to know more, and some believe.

Under Fire

2011-03-16T06:59:00.008-05:00

One of Fred's co-workers said to him, "You know a true Christian by how he responds under fire." My patient, people-loving, trusting husband has been sorely tested by his real estate clients. They have really pushed him to the limits of his goodness and kindness. In his frustration, he was sounding off on what he would like to say to them when the whole transaction is over.

A friend of mine works under difficult conditions and has an office manager who is rude to her. I can't understand that because Diane is such a lovable, affable kind of person. But I do know how office politics can work. In order not to respond in a negative way when this manager attacks her, Diane writes scripture on index cards and takes them to work. When Diane feels she is ready to blow, she pulls out a card and reads it over. She says it calms her and she can better let things go rather than retaliate. Scripture reminds her of her identity in Christ.

Serving in the Alpha ministry at church has been a real test for me, a test I think I failed some weeks. Fred and I are nearing the end of six years of cooking for about 50 people every week. I could list many grievances I've had working in the kitchen, but there is no use re-hashing it all. If you think because you work at church, conditions are different than they are in the "world," you would be wrong. People are people, the same the world over, the same throughout time. I have always been accused of over-reacting to situations. So I have complained; I have gossiped. I have not always been kind to those who wronged me.

Take this to a more serious level. As we watch in horror what is happening in Japan, I think about the individual people there. Moms, dads, and children suffering cold, hunger, thirst, and fear, in addition to grief. Evacuated from their homes, if they even have a home left. Living in shelters in crowded conditions interacting with others who are also suffering. I can't imagine. And we think we have problems?

It makes me wonder how I would react in a crisis. Would my true nature rear its ugly head (the one I keep hidden from the public) or would I respond in love and compassion, in the way God has always responded to me? "Be imitators of God, as beloved children, and walk in love as Christ loved us." (Ephesians 5:1) Would I complain bitterly or console others? If I look at my past experiences, I would have to say I wouldn't fare so well. A sobering thought.

Jesus said you can't hide your true self for long. It will erupt in your words. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks." (Matthew 12:34) An instinctive response to an unexpected situation reveals the condition of a person's heart.

But back to what Fred's co-worker said. I have to somewhat disagree. If you respond badly under fire, it does not necessarily mean you are not a Christian. It just shows you need to rely more on God, like my friend Diane. We need to thank God for our blessings, and ask him for help. Our words and actions under stress reveal our need.

Afternoon Movie

2011-03-14T06:45:00.009-05:00

Fred and I rarely watch movies unless we plan a special family night with the girls. Adult-themed movies are not at all appropriate for them, and Fred and I don't have much time apart from the girls. PG-13 movies are still off-limits for them, and it's slim pickings for any quality PG or G movies.

We were returning home from a marriage seminar at our church and stopped to get books from the library. I asked Fred if he wanted to get a movie to watch with the girls that night. He said yes and came inside to choose one. Immediately he picked up The Book of Eli, rated R. Of course the girls couldn't watch that, and I didn't know when he'd find time to see it, but he got it anyway.

It turned out Liana went off to a friend's house and Arielle was curled up with a book, so Fred and I had a free afternoon together. I had sewing I wanted to do, but since we just came from a marriage seminar, I decided the right thing to do was spend time with my husband. So we put the movie on. It looked to me like just a "guy movie" with guns and violence and lots of things blowing up. Boring...doesn't interest me at all. This movie takes place in some post-apocalyptic time so the landscape is dull and barren. Yawn... But the movie grabbed my attention soon. Denzel Washington, Eli, is on a mission from God to deliver a special book to some people "out west." That's all you know in the beginning. There is a lot of violence that accounts for the R rating, but this was an excellent movie! The plot is so good that I explained it to both the girls later. The movie presents the power and the value of the Word of God--used by people for good or evil purposes--in a time when people have no Bible. The ending was very satisfying and a great surprise. It makes you want to cheer.

At the very of his life, Eli quotes II Timothy 4:7. "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." Isn't that what we all would want to say at our end?

I recently found a video clip filmed in some remote place in Indonesia. Hundreds of people are singing and dancing and obviously celebrating some special event. Soon a plane lands, and people excitedly clap and shout. They are receiving their first Bibles in their own language. The Bibles are unloaded from the plane and many people begin to weep. Then the packages are carefully and tenderly carried off to the village as if they hold the most precious treasure on the face of the earth. An older man quotes John 1:1, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." They believe it is God himself coming to them through his Word.

Do we believe that? We Americans so much take the scriptures for granted. We have always had them. Maybe we won't really know their value until we have them no more.

An Ordinary Morning

2011-03-03T07:59:00.007-05:00

This day...this moment in time...

The sun has risen, filling the room with light. Spring is ready to make an entrance, but winter insists on staying a little longer. From the window, I can see the pussy willow's fuzzy buds bursting open, yet strong winds still bend the trees. It's silent in this cozy place, except for the creaky sounds of the iron stove as it expands. No, not silent. The guinea pigs nibble hay with their tiny teeth, waking for a new day. And birds call, though no windows are open. They announce they are ready for a new season. Not me.

My dear husband keeps us warm with the fire he starts at dawn each day. He is at work, finally doing what he loves best and what he was created to do--puttering and fixing. He is using the talents he's acquired over a lifetime. My daughters are still in their beds, soon to be moaning when I arouse them to get ready for school. I'm doing exactly what I should be doing in this season of life. I know it. Giving my girls a good education, protecting them as long as possible.

March--the transition month between the long winter and a new spring. Our family is also in a transition time. Our babies nearly grown, but not yet women. Fred and me--our lives mostly lived, but that place called "old age" still seems far off in the distance. We're healthy and strong.
(If we slow down, will it take longer to get there?)

Don't leave, month of March. We want to stay here and live in this moment. The sky is clear and blue and I don't see any storms on the horizon today. Not today anyway. I put another log on the fire to keep it burning a little longer.

**************************

See? I captured one moment in time. I held it in my hands and examined it and saw its beauty and took pleasure in it. But now I have to set it down and move on. Time for school.

Missing the Boat

2011-03-02T21:01:00.003-05:00

"Do not miss the boat that's here, while mourning the boat that's sailed." Andree Seu.

I'm often thinking about all those boats that sailed, never to come again. My baby girls are growing up. We're in a new phase of life and time is flying by. But, "This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24.

Liana had to learn "Michael, Row the Boat Ashore" on the violin. That led to us searching youtube and we got sidetracked listening to old Peter, Paul and Mary songs. Liana was amazed I knew all the words to "Puff the Magic Dragon." What a trip down memory lane! But do any of us really want to go back to those days? Not me. Looking back brings regret. Looking forward can scare you. Today is just fine. I just wish I could hold on to it. Another day has slipped away.

Prayers of Many Answered!

2011-02-28T16:43:00.003-05:00

This afternoon I opened up my new World Magazine and read this great news! The title is:
FREE AT LAST.

"Said Musa, the 46-year-old Afghan Christian jailed since May 31, 2010, quietly was released by Afghan government authorities in Kabul on February 21 and allowed to leave the country."

Credit was given to western Christians, U.S. and European diplomats, the International Committee for the Red Cross (for whom he had worked for 15 years) and NATO chief Anders Fogh Rasmussen. Ultimately, we give credit to God for saving this man's life.

Please continue to pray for the others, especially Shoib Assadullah, a young Afghan man who was arrested for giving someone a Bible.

Sewing Frenzy

2011-02-28T07:33:00.004-05:00

I have heard no more about Said Musa. All we can do is continue to pray--for him and all those imprisoned unjustly.

Saturday morning we woke to see a flurry of activity under our lilac tree. Spring is coming! Woodpeckers galore! A flock of them! We identified three different kinds, all taking their turns at the suet feeder. Sorting through the old seed at the other feeder were mourning doves, crows, cardinals, starlings, nuthatches, juncos, and even a lone chickadee. All these birds after not seeing any for so long! We were delighted.

4-H has started up again and the girls are each making dresses. But because their patterns are difficult and they always have sizing issues, they are first making a "practice" dress. I am a volunteer at the 4-H center and have been assigned a girl who is making another difficult dress. I am learning as much as she is as we take it step-by-step. The women who lead there are incredibly talented.

If that weren't enough sewing, we have even bigger projects. Stacia has invited the girls to be junior bridesmaids in her wedding and after checking prices for dresses, we decided it would be best to make them. One of the teachers at 4-H was very helpful in choosing the patterns that would work best. Again, I need to make practice dresses before we invest in good fabric. So that's four dresses for me to make. So between the girls and me, we have eight dresses to sew by June! I also have a quilt I've been trying to finish for years and the end is in sight. But it might have to be held off a little longer.

Dominic gave us an idea for a money-making venture. He will design us a website if we want to go into the sewing business. That is an idea for the future after we get these dresses made. This could even branch out to lessons in our house for girls who want to start sewing. Some people do not live near the 4-H center or do not want to commit to the many hours required every weekend to sew with that group. If I could generate a little income for the household, it would help tremendously and take some of the burden from my hard-working husband.

As I was contemplating this idea this morning, I read this verse. Actually I don't even remember noticing it before. Jesus was telling a parable and he said, "Engage in business until I come." Part of the interpretation is that we are not to sit and look at the sky, doing nothing while we wait for Christ's return. Or sit in fear of world events, as some do. But in light of this parable, we are to do something useful with the resources, talents, and opportunities that God gives us.

Pray for our Brother in Christ

2011-02-22T07:53:00.003-05:00

Have you heard this story? Probably not. The media is mostly silent. I read about Said Musa in World Magazine, twice. I cut out his picture and put it on my refrigerator so I would remember to pray for him. He is imprisoned in an Afghan prison simply for being a Christian. His execution is imminent.

Here is an article by Paul Marshall from the National Review On-Line:

A terrible drama is unfolding in Afghanistan: There are reports that Said Musa, will soon be executed for the ‘crime’ of choosing to become a Christian. Musa was one of about 25 Christians arrested on May 31, 2010, after a May 27 Noorin TV program showed video of a worship service held by indigenous Afghan Christians; he was arrested as he attempted to seek asylum at the German embassy. He converted to Christianity eight years ago, is the father of six young children, had a leg amputated after he stepped on a landmine while serving in the Afghan Army, and now has a prosthetic leg. His oldest child is eight and one is disabled (she cannot speak). He worked for the Red Cross/Red Crescent as an adviser to other amputees.

Said was forced to appear before a judge without any legal counsel and without knowledge of the charges against him. “Nobody [wanted to be my] defender before the court. When I said ‘I am a Christian man,’ he [a potential lawyer] immediately spat on me and abused me and mocked me. . . . I am alone between 400 [people with] terrible values in the jail, like a sheep.” He has been beaten, mocked, and subjected to sleep deprivation and sexual abuse while in prison. No Afghan lawyer will defend him and authorities denied him access to a foreign lawyer.

Any and every human being who is imprisoned, abused, or tortured for the free and peaceful expression of their faith deserves our support, but Musa is also a remarkable person and Christian. In a letter smuggled to the West, he says, “The authority and prisoners in jail did many bad behaviour with me about my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. For example, they did sexual things with me, beat me by wood, by hands, by legs, put some things on my head.”
He added a thing much more important to him, that they “mocked me ‘he’s Jesus Christ,’ spat on me, nobody let me for sleep night and day. . . . Please, please, for the sake of Lord Jesus Christ help me.”

He has not, in fact, even appealed to be released, only to be transferred to another prison. He has also stated that he is willing to give his life for his faith. “Please, please you should transfer me from this jail to a jail that supervises the believers. . . . I also agree . . . to sacrifice my life in public [where] I will tell [about my] faith in Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, [so] other believers will take courage and be strong in their faith.”

Newspapers in the U.K. and elsewhere in Europe have reported the story, but with, the exception of the Wall Street Journal and NRO, American outlets have not found it worthy of attention. “Afghan officials have been unapologetic: ‘The sentence for a convert is death and there is no exception,’ said Jamal Khan, chief of staff at the Ministry of Justice. ‘They must be sentenced to death to serve as a lesson for others.’"

The U.S. government — reportedly including Secretary of State Clinton — and other governments have pushed for his release, but to no avail. But the president has been silent, even as we fight a war that has among its goals the creation of a government that conforms to international human-rights standards. An American president certainly needs to guard and shepherd his political capital, and should not speak out about every prisoner. But Musa himself has appealed to “President Brother Obama” to rescue him from his current jail. And when an obscure and aberrant Florida pastor, Terry Jones, threatened to burn a Koran, not only President Obama but much of his cabinet, as well as General Petraeus, weighed in on the matter.
If the actions of a Florida pastor who threatened to destroy a book holy to Muslims deserved public and presidential attention, then the actions of the Afghan government, ostensibly a ‘democratic’ ally, to destroy something holy to Christians, a human being made in the image of God, also deserve public and presidential attention.

PRAY.

Music Appreciation

2011-02-16T21:00:00.008-05:00

I came across notes Dominic took while he was using Liana as a test subject for his music appreciation class. In his observation study, he let Liana listen to two songs and then recorded her reactions.

Song 1: "The Gummy Bear Song"
Song 2: "The Piano Man" by Billy Joel

Subject Profile: Liana, 11, female, 5th grade student, little sister

What specific emotions did the lyrics convey to you (if any)?
Gummy Bear Song: "Really crazy, and energetic. It was a lot of fun."

Sensory, kinesthetic response:
Gummy Bear Song: Smiling, jumping, dancing, laughing, finger-pointed dance moves, hip swinging, head bopping on the bopping sound of the song, twirling on tippy-toes.
Piano Man: None noticed other than intent listening.

What specific images did the lyrics create in your mind (if any)?
Gummy Bear: "Multi-colored cartoon Gummy bears dancing around and having a party in a party room with a disco ball."
Piano Man: "Some old person in a rocking chair playing the harmonica."

Kinesthetic or sensory directly related to the lyrics (if any)?
Gummy bear Song: On the chorus, extra smiles and dancing. She made popping sounds with her mouth on the popping sounds in the song.

Liana enjoyed the Gummy Bear Song over the rock classic, Piano Man (hard to believe). She said she liked the tune of the Piano Man, but didn’t understand what he was singing about.

Have you ever heard the Gummy Bear Song? See if it doesn't make you smile. You'll soon be out of your chair dancing too! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=astISOttCQ0 There has to be a reason for those 108 million views.

I should add, Liana's goal for violin is to someday play Vivaldi's "Spring."

Music Fills our House

2011-02-15T07:35:00.010-05:00

Prior to all of us getting sick, Dominic and Stacia came for a visit, so most of the family gathered to spend time with them. Dominic is taking a music appreciation class and he invited Liana's help with his homework assignment--evaluating pieces of music. Liana was not impressed with some of his choices. But both of them thoroughly enjoyed the "Gummy Bear" song that led to some wild dancing around the dining room!

Stacia provided a different sort of musical treat. She is an accomplished pianist, and Liana and Lana both were interested in hearing her play. I found out my little granddaughter Lana now has a keyboard and has discovered classical music. Given the opportunity, that child will go far. I so wish Arielle would play again. Somehow she lost interest, but her teacher at the time thought she had great skill.

We also had a lot of fun around the table when the big girls made "cootie catchers." It doesn't take much to entertain this family. Liana gave Dominic a birthday card she created herself. She wrote and illustrated a fairy tale about a wizard and a princess and an evil dragon named Damien. Using old stickers and old photos, she put together hilarious images of her brothers. I don't believe I've ever heard Damien laugh so much.

Pink Snow

2011-02-14T07:35:00.003-05:00

On Valentine's Day I was treated to pink snow. The rising sun cast a rosy glow over the bleak winter landscape of my yard. What a gift this morning!

We have rejoined the land of the living. Last week a virus knocked us down hard. The girls and I lived in a groggy daze, rising from a pile of blankets to get a drink or take some Advil. This virus took all our energy and most of our interest in anything except warmth and sleep. It was nothing serious, I guess. But for a person who likes to get things done, it is hard to do nothing. What a waste, I kept thinking. Just sitting or lying and not DOING.

A little jingle kept going through my head: "Man proposes, God disposes." We plan (and oh, we had lots of plans last week) and whoosh, nothing works out. All our daily routines, meaningless. All we wanted was rest and sleep. A lot of orange juice and V-8 Fusion. Thank goodness I had homemade chicken soup in the freezer. Nothing else sounded good.

When we started feeling a little better, we pulled out some old home videos taken when the girls were little. We never have time to watch these. In fact, I'm sure some of the videos had never been viewed since recording them. Oh, my adorable babies! Why was I so blessed to be given these precious children? My little girls were so joyful, so full of song and dance. And you friends and family, I saw you on those videos too. I saw friends who now struggle with cancer. You didn't know back then what was coming. Fred's sister, gone from this world. She didn't know she had such a short time left. Another friend, on the video with his small children, now paralyzed by disease. How sobering to see the ignorance of our future.

But we are not all doomed by time. I saw younger versions of my boys. Some were going through great difficulties then, but now they are thriving. My girls no longer sing and dance around the house all day, but they are growing into responsible young women with many new interests.

"Come now, you who say, today or tomorrow we will go and do such and such...yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then it vanishes. Instead you ought to say, if the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that." (James 4:13-15.)

So if the Lord wills, we plan to return to comfortable routines today, doing our school work, enjoying family, and living in the moment.

My Baby is Eleven!

2011-02-08T07:51:00.005-05:00

Liana, my youngest child, is growing up. It's hard to believe she is eleven. This picture is perfect to reveal the complexities of the age. Her passion is Build-A-Bears, yet she loves the old ipod her sister gave her and was delighted with her new shoes with wedge heels.

The girls don't go to school on their birthdays. It's the least I can do since I drive them so hard with school work when other kids have holidays and snow days and in-service days, etc., etc. On Arielle's birthday we spent the day at the mall, but on Liana's birthday we had icy roads and there was no going anywhere that morning. She wasn't terribly disappointed because she is a stay-at-home kind of person like me.

First of all, the girls decided to watch I Love Lucy on TV. I think it is funny they enjoy that show so much. I watched it on hot summer days in Arizona while my mother ironed. The voices and music of the program bring back special memories for me. After I Love Lucy my mom and I would watch Queen for a Day! I loved that one too.

Liana requested French toast for breakfast and then she opened a couple of gifts. Another birthday tradition is measuring! Arielle brought the yardstick and we saw how much they each had grown. (Too much!) Friends called to wish Liana a Happy Birthday, and since these children had no school due to the weather, we had an impromptu birthday gathering. Sometimes those spur-of-the-moment events are the most fun. So these two girls, plus their mother who is my good friend, came for the afternoon.

In the evening I made Liana's Chinese birthday soup and cake. Fred had a patient coming to the house, who is also Liana's violin teacher, and he happened to bring his son. So they ended up being our birthday guests. Liana had an interesting day after all.

Snow Videos

2011-02-08T07:42:00.003-05:00

We have had a very unpredictable winter this year. Usually we count on a few good snowstorms, but this season we've had snow or ice every few days. Right now we're in a lull. I think everyone is tired of winter--except kids!

After the last big one, Liana built her own sledding hill from the snow piled up from shoveling. Then over the weekend Fred used the snow blower to carve out an icy slope in the back yard.

Glory of Creation

2011-02-01T06:12:00.011-05:00

On the day of one of the biggest blizzards our country has seen for awhile (satellite photo above), I thought I would post a video that a friend sent me. The photography is beautiful.

http://www.andiesisle.com/creation/magnificent.html

Once again I am hearing the same message twice. After receiving that video our pastor began a series on "God's Great Story: How the Gospel Changes Everything." He began with creation, a good place to start. Instead of me explaining it, here is a summary:

"From beginning to end the Bible tells one story, God’s great story. It is the story of God’s glorious work of redeeming a people through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. This story includes creation, human sin, the fall of all creation, God’s covenant with his people, the redemptive work of Jesus, and the coming new creation. It is the story that shapes all of history and defines our lives."

We sang a new song that morning, and I found it on youtube so I could listen to it again. It goes along with what my friend sent. I hope you enjoy it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFVjy4gcsuE

If you are traveling through icy roads this morning, you probably aren't much impressed with the glories of creation right now. Those glistening icicles might not be dazzling your senses. I was grumbling a bit when I fell on the ice yesterday and sprained my wrist. But my complaining always turns to praise when I look out my window and see God's handiwork, right here in suburbia on my little plot of the earth. From sunrises to falling snow to soaring hawks and howling wind, all display the wonder, majesty and splendor of our God. It puts things in perspective.

"The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork...Be exalted, O God, above the heavens! Let your glory be over all the earth!...O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you mde them all; the earth is full of your creatures..." (from the Psalms.)

Teachable

2011-01-28T07:17:00.007-05:00

I've learned that if you receive a word more than once, pay attention. God is trying to tell you something. I had two e-mails this morning with the exact same passage of scripture from Psalm 25. I get the message: I am to be more humble and teachable.

"Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all the day long.
Remember your mercy, O Lord, and your steadfast love, for they have been from of old. Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for the sake of your goodness, O Lord!
Good and upright is the Lord; therefore he instructs sinners in the way. He leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble his way. All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness, for those who keep his covenant and his testimonies."

Our school days go much better when my daughters have a teachable attitude. It is difficult when they think they know it all and don't need instruction. (Do I do that with God?) We have an especially delightful day when they are eager to learn and excited about the lessons. (How excited am I to read God's word and learn from him?)

Today I will set my opinions and arrogant attitudes aside and I will listen to what others may teach me.

Snow and More Snow

2011-01-27T08:14:00.006-05:00

As much as I don't like snow, we had fun yesterday. Fred came home from plowing and the girls and I made snowmen after shoveling the deck. The snow was perfect for rolling balls and the temperature outside was not so cold. At the end we had to hurry because rain was coming. Rain after a snowstorm. Very odd. But then the weather this whole winter has been strange.

In the evening we heard thunder and the blizzard came in. We watched out the window and we were amazed by how light it was outside. Where was the light coming from? I checked the calendar--no, it was not a full moon. But the whole yard was lit up. I tried to get a picture of that, but the snow was coming down so hard that I couldn't capture it.

My son Dominic mentioned he hoped for snow in D.C.. Well, he got it! The whole Northeast got hit last night. I heard on the news this morning that we have around 18 inches to shovel today. I'm tired thinking about it. But the sun has risen brilliantly from the shadow of clouds and I heard a woodpecker searching for his food. God is still on his throne. I thank him that I am strong and healthy and able to shovel snow.

Horrific Anniversary

2011-01-23T07:30:00.012-05:00

Todd Pruitt has been on a rampage this week with the anniversary of Roe v. Wade. He is not afraid to stand up and say exactly how he feels about it He has posted numerous articles on his blog. http://www.toddpruitt.blogspot.com/. In our own town, an abortionist has been arrested and his house of horrors shut down, so this topic is in everyone's mind around our area.

I usually stay away from politics and controversial issues on this blog. I'm just an ordinary mom with ordinary kids, living an ordinary life. I love God and his Word and try to do what's right each day, usually UNsuccessfully. I daily contemplate and wrestle with cultural issues and how it conflicts with spiritual things. I'm sure all my friends and family know where I stand on abortion. If you disagree, I will gladly discuss it with you. I truly did not come by my opinion mindlessly or blindly by parroting views of white evangelical Republican men.

I have looked at all sides. I know what it is like to be poor raising children without any help. I've been there. There are so many "hard" cases. As a young woman I went with a classmate to an abortion clinic to be with her as she carried out her choice. It was a nice, modern clinic, but as she was in the back with the medical personnel, I had such a sense of darkness and evil that I wanted to flee. As I looked around at the women waiting, I had visions of Jews lined up for the gas chamber. For whatever reason, my friend did not follow through and we left. It was the last time I supported the "right to choose."

I've seen the pain of infertile couples yearning for a baby, with no babies to be had. One woman I know had an abortion when she was young. Later on, after she married, it was discovered she could not have any more children. I remember her guilt, shame, and remorse over her past decision. And then her struggle to adopt here in America. Not enough babies for all the couples who want them. In our own family, I see the outcome of women who chose life and the indescribable joy these children have brought us.

Many years ago I worked in the delivery room at an inner-city hospital and assisted with many births. I saw babies born to teenagers and drug-addicted mothers. Hard cases. Would it be better to not be born at all than to be subjected to poverty and abuse later on? But we fall into a trap if we carry that line of thinking into other problems in life.

Once I picketed an abortion clinic and watched people I know be hauled off to jail. I' saw the anger and ugliness of both sides. This doesn't seem to accomplish anything.

One time I took my youngest son to an optometrist in a poor section of town. I forget why we were at that particular place. I was in the waiting room and a pregnant woman sat beside me. She saw my girls--they were little then--and we started a conversation. She realized she could not care for her unborn baby and she was looking into adoption. She was working through an agency and was in the process of choosing a family for her child. She hinted that maybe I would want the baby. Maybe she saw that race did not matter in our family. I would gladly have added another color to the rainbow of people in our big extended family, but at the time, Liana was still a baby and I knew this wasn't the right decision for us then. I've thought about that woman so many times since. Hopefully she was encouraged that her baby would be loved by its new family after she saw my happy little girls.

At that same hospital where I worked, my views were cemented firmly in place when I was assigned to care for a baby boy born without part of his brain. He had no chance of survival. Nurses were supposed to monitor him and wait for him to die. I believe that was my hardest day of life on this planet. A doctor came into the room and joked how he would like to put a pillow over the baby and smother him. He even picked up a pillow and demonstrated. Despite this baby's deformities, he was still a human being. He was denied food and cried pitifully. I spent the day in tears, stroking his small limbs and talking to him. He suffered for 6 days before he died. This passage of scripture that Jesus spoke came alive for me:

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me. Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ (Matthew 25:35-40)

The LEAST of these. Is anyone more helpless than an unborn baby? Poor women are also victims and often helpless too. Followers of Jesus must reach out with compassion to those who are hurting, whoever they may be. There has to be a better way.

Morning Gifts

2011-01-17T07:29:00.006-05:00

Fred's new job has totally changed our household schedule. We get up very early. For the most part I relish the solitude and total quiet of the early morning. It is worth losing a little sleep to have this time. Recently, I was delighted to look out my windows and see beauty I would have missed if I was asleep. In the western sky at dawn, the moon was setting. My photos are not the best, but you can see the little glowing light above my neighbor's shed. On another morning, I opened the drapes downstairs and was struck by a rising sun setting the sky on fire out the eastern window. It was absolutely spectacular, but I just couldn't capture it well on camera. We have snow on the ground, but I put on my boots and bundled up and ran out to get a picture. Then as the sun rose higher, the sky was even more beautiful and larger in scope. I considered gearing up again to go outside for another shot, but figured it wouldn't turn out. Some things are best just enjoyed rather than captured on film.

January is half over. We are back in the full swing of things and that makes time fly. Liana has to take the California Achievement Test on Friday, so our school days have been full as I try to prepare her. Public school kids are required to take so many more tests and I'm sure they are better test-takers just because they get more practice. Liana knows her stuff but she is not accustomed to being timed or working in a large classroom with other children.

Every weekend from now until June will be filled with sewing at 4-H. It's been a nice break (for me) but the girls are anxious and motivated to sew again. Alpha is starting again tomorrow night and once again Fred and I are cooking for another session. I let it be known this is my last time. A lesson I learned (or rather didn't learn) a long time ago is that you are given the time you need to do what God has called you to do. If you "don't have time" then you are probably doing things God did not call you to do. So I need to make some cuts.

Today is a holiday, but my poor girls are hitting the books. I was criticized by a postal worker last year for making my children do school work on MLK Day. She would probably really be offended if she knew I let them have a day off from school on their own birthdays. Please don't misinterpret. We respect Dr. King and have studied his legacy. But I will set my own school schedule with my own children.

No More Toys?

2011-01-04T07:34:00.011-05:00

Before Christmas I wrote that it was sad the girls don't like toys anymore. That is not entirely true! Liana and her friend Julia have lately been making their own paperdolls and designing clothes for them. They do this for hours...and hours. I love listening to their conversations about their paper families. And thankfully, they still love Build-A-Bears! Right now they are planning a wedding ceremony for the boy and girl dogs they have. I noticed these couples already had dog children. They told me that the dogs had married in the courthouse before having children, but now they are going to have a wedding for guests to attend. I'm invited.

With all the little ones coming to our house for the holiday, Arielle took the time to get out all her old Barbies, dressed them, and combed their hair, and then set up a Barbie town in her room. Yes, she did it for her nieces, but I don't think she will deny that she had a little bit of fun playing with the old toys.

The week before New Year's is a special time for the girls and their dad. Even with suffering from bronchitis the whole week, Fred still made it fun for them. They got out all the old Lincoln Logs and spent an afternoon in front of the fire building. Another day they got out all their old Play-Dough toys and gathered around the kitchen table creating all sorts of things.

Hopefully the girls will not lose that sense of fun and imagination. Maybe they will someday be playful moms, bringing joy to their own children. In the meantime, I will treasure these days with my little girls.

I've been reading Mary Beth Chapman's book Choosing to SEE. The Chapman's lost their five-year old daughter in a terrible accident and Mary Beth wrote how they survived such a tragedy. None of us knows the number of our days on this earth. A quote from the book: "Keep walking and keep trusting...love well the ones still in your charge and care...realize that time is short, life is hard...you have much to do, do not squander it."

Before the loss of his youngest daughter, Steven Curtis Chapman wrote the beautiful song "Cinderella" with all his daughters in mind. http://www.stevencurtischapman.com/cinderella.htm

"Oh, I will dance with Cinderella, I don't want to miss even one song,

'cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight and she'll be gone..."

More New Year Resolutions

2011-01-04T07:07:00.005-05:00

There is something about January and a new year spread out before us that makes people want to make changes. My blank calendar will soon be filled with, well, LIFE. What will we do this year? How will our days be spent? Spent is an accurate description. Used up, gone forever. What will be written on these blank pages?

I've made resolutions before. Many times they have to do with health. Eat more good food. Exercise more. This year I was reading an article by Andree Seu in World Magazine. It is titled "The Pilgrim's Progress: Three wishes and ways for moving forward in the new year." I have been pondering her suggestions.

1) "Pray to have friends (at least one) who have more faith than you do." Done. I do. Accountability in our Christian walk is crucial. I need a breathing, living example to emulate that shows me how to live out my faith. But am I always honest with her about my struggles? There can be no accountability without transparency in our relationships.

2) "Get rid of everything doubtful in your life." Questionable entertainment. Books that suck the life out of you rather than bring hope or enlightenment. Conversations not worthy of participation. You know when you've crossed into the gray area. "Let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit." II Corinthians 7:1.

3) "Mastery of the tongue. Speak slowly, put on a filter, let out no lie." Oh, that's a tough one. Long ago I memorized James 3 because my words have always been my downfall. "The tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity...If anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man." I am far from perfect, especially in light of my words. As a mom, I am especially distressed by my "tongue lashings." These hurt as much as a physical beating. I need to serve my children with tenderness and gentleness.

So one of my resolutions this year is to be more faithful and diligent to follow the God I profess to know and love. I read today, "For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome." I John 5:3. God gives us the strength (and the desire) to do what is right.

My other resolution is to "redeem the time." These days of 2011 will be spent, to be sure. But what will be left after we fill in the last day of the calendar in December? "Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom...satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days...let the favor of the Lord be upon us. Give permanence to the work of our hands." Psalm 90:12-17.

Looking Forward

2010-12-29T07:50:00.005-05:00

"Till now the Lord has helped us." I Samuel 7:12.

"Through poverty, through wealth, through sickness, through health, at home, abroad, on the land, on the sea, in honour, in dishonour, in perplexity, in joy, in trial, in triumph, in prayer, in temptation...the Lord has helped us!

"We delight to look down a long avenue of trees. It is delightful to gaze from end to end of the long vista, a sort of verdant temple, with its branching pillars and its arches of leaves; even so look down the long aisles of your years, at the green boughs of mercy overhead, and the strong pillars of lovingkindness and faithfulness which bear up your joys. Are there no birds in yonder branches singing? Surely there must be many, and they all sing of mercy.

"Yet we also look forward, we are not yet at the end, There is still a distance to be traversed. More trials, more joys; more temptations, more triumphs; more prayers, more answers; more toils, more strength; more fights, more victories; and then come sickness, old age, disease, death. Is it over now? No! there is more yet...the face of Jesus, the society of saints, the glory of God, the fulness of eternity, the infinity of bliss. O be of good courage, believer..." (Charles Spurgeon.)

Glimpses of Christmas

2010-12-28T08:09:00.012-05:00

Preparing for Christmas was rushed and joyless...until my friend asked me to watch her children while she visited her husband in the hospital. Her girls and mine had a wonderful time rolling and cutting and baking and decorating cookies. I enjoyed their fun. This set the tone for the next few days.

I couldn't find peace...until Christmas Eve when I was dropping something off at another friend's house, in a hurry as always, and when she opened her door, I saw she had a cup of hot tea ready, along with oat bran muffins, all set up in her dining room. Those brief few moments are a special memory of this Christmas. Her house was so warm and inviting, and I found rest in quiet conversation with a dear friend.

I couldn't find joy...until we went to our Christmas Eve service at church and found some friends who only come once a year. This family has suffered much in the past few months, but here they all were, dressed in holiday finery, singing out the carols with all their hearts.

I couldn't find contentment until Christmas morning when I realized my daughter Arielle was right. It's all about family. All our kids arrived, the big kids and the little kids, together with all the laughter and stories and feasting and celebrating. Of course, we longed for the missing ones: Dominic and Stacia were in Chicago, Kelsey and Seth in Minnesota. And our extended family in North Carolina and Georgia. But phone calls late into the night connected me to my brother and mother. How blessed we are to have so many loved ones, near and far.

Sometimes I think I expect too much from life. This quote from C.S. Lewis sums it up. "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."

And yet, God gives us plenty of experiences in this world to enjoy. And the best is yet to come.

Christmas Magic

2010-12-23T07:39:00.006-05:00

Early this morning I was sitting in my darkened living room with only the tree lights glowing bemoaning the fact that Christmas has no magic for me this year. Why? The suffering of my friends weighs heavily and Fred is working all the time and comes home exhausted, just to eat and go to bed. We are too busy, too much to do in too little time. Everyone is on edge.

So if I focus on the true meaning of Christmas--Immanuel, God with us--I see Jesus as our only hope in a world of pain and hard work. The joy he brings is the only kind of lasting joy. I know this, but I'm having a difficult time getting perspective this year. This morning I am not feeling very spiritual.

I look at the tree and remember Christmases past. The carols and the lights surrounding the holiday allow children to indulge in the world of their imaginations, where children long to dwell. But we parents make them concentrate on the real world of school work and chores and responsibility. Usually at Christmas we briefly join them in their fantasy world where Santa and reindeer live at the North Pole and an adopted elf searches for his roots and a couple tries to escape Christmas only to find true meaning by sacrificing their needs for others. (These all come from movies we've watched recently.) Fred sets up his trains and he and the girls lie on the floor and watch them go around the tree and imagine living in that tiny village.

The girls and I were shopping for toys for the little ones in our family. After we chose our gifts I asked Arielle and Liana if they wanted to walk through the doll section of this big store. No, they said. Didn't they want to just look at the dolls? No. It's so very sad. Arielle wants no toy for Christmas. She hasn't for awhile. And this will probably be Liana's last year for Christmas toys. They are both growing up.

I remember my middle-school years when there was no more jumping out of bed early in the morning to see what Santa had left for me. In 7th grade I got white go-go boots (that I very much desired) and a warm sweater. Great gifts, but not thrilling. It was hard to face reality for a child who often lived in an imaginary world.

Late at night on Christmas Eve this year Fred and I will not be arranging toys on the sofa to be discovered at dawn by excited little girls in their pjs. Gifts now are more practical and sophisticated. As I sadly contemplate this, I think of what my wise daughter Arielle said a few weeks ago. She told me the best part of Christmas for her is not the gifts but the family gathering all together. She loves the crazy antics of her brothers and playing with the youngest ones and the laughter and loud voices and the special food and sitting in a circle watching each other open gifts one by one. The girls have both enjoyed making special gifts for their siblings and nieces and nephews and are eagerly anticipating giving these gifts. I need to learn from my daughters.

The Perfect Tree

2010-12-15T07:58:00.005-05:00

Once again we chose a very cold day to go to the tree farm in search of our Christmas tree. Another Christmas season we are PRIVILEGED to plan, shop, and decorate. As we see friends ill and families suffering, I am learning to appreciate each day.

Our usual tree farm was closed, so we traveled a little farther and found a forest of perfect trees. The air was crisp and cold as we rode the tractor out to the fields, but we enjoyed the beautiful landscape. So many years we have taken our little girls tree hunting, from days when they were stumbling over the stumps and had to be carried. It's a tradition the girls would surely miss if ever we didn't do it. Fred and I would miss it too!

This farm had every size and shape tree imaginable. It was easy to find a good one. Fred quickly cut it and he dragged it down the hill to wait for the tractor. As it was shaken and bound, we enjoyed the free hot chocolate. Another tradition.

The girls are getting older now and take over most of the tree decorating, except for the lights that Fred does. In no time our perfect tree was dressed and lit. I tried and tried to take a good picture of it but none turned out well. Just picture an artificial tree in a department store, precisely symmetrical and flawless. That's what ours looks like, only we have a fresh pine scent and soft branches you can touch. A Christmas tree marks the years of our lives; memories flood my mind as I sit in silence and enjoy it. Thank you, Lord. One more year.

Time to Pray

2010-12-13T07:28:00.004-05:00

"City sidewalks, busy sidewalks
Dressed in holiday style,
In the air there's a feeling of Christmas,

Silver bells, silver bells,
It's Christmas time in the city..."

I always loved that song. Not growing up in a city, I never really knew what it meant. But years ago a friend took Arielle and me at Christmastime to a big department store in the city that my friend visited with her parents as a child, and we heard carols played on a big organ and saw the city dressed in lights. The sidewalks were full of wide-eyed children bundled in their coats and scarves, and then the song came alive for me.

Last week I took the train into the city on a cold and windy day, and yes, in the air there was a feeling of Christmas. But soon I entered another world far removed from Christmas--a big city hospital where a friend's husband is dying of a disease that the best minds in this big city can't figure out.

As our family rejoices in our blessings this year, it is not a joyful time for many families close to us. Serious illness casts a shadow over any happiness this Christmas might bring. My heart is heavy as I think of them. Earlier, I posted this verse that always makes me think of Thanksgiving around our table.

"May our sons in their youth be like plants full grown, our daughters like corner pillars cut for the structure of a palace,
May our granaries be full, providing all kinds of produce,
May our sheep bring forth thousands and ten thousands in our fields,
May our cattle be heavy with young, suffering no mishap or failure in bearing,
May there be no cry of distress in our streets.
Blessed are the people to whom such blessings fall.
Blessed are the people whose God is the Lord!" Psalm 144:12-15.

How do we reconcile those words with these from Habakkuk 3:17-19?

"Though the fig tree should not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold,
and there be no herd in the stalls,

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength,
he makes my feet like the deer's,
he makes me tread on my high places."

This reminds me of what Job said, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust him." I think if we really knew what lies ahead after death, we would have a different perspective on suffering. We would have God's perspective. In trusting God, we can find joy--not in the circumstances surely, but in God and in his presence. He has promised never to leave us and to walk the journey with us.

At this stage in life it is inevitable that we will see friends (and ourselves) suffer. Do we despair or do we trust in a sovereign God? Today I read Daniel 9, Daniel's prayer for his people during desperate times. His words tell us how to respond to calamity. We are to entreat the favor of our God. We are to turn from sin. And we are to gain insight into God's truth. Daniel ends by saying:

"O my God, incline your ear and hear. Open your eyes and see our desolations. For we do not present our pleas before you because of our righteousness, but because of your great mercy. O Lord, hear. O Lord, forgive, pay attention and act. Delay not..."

Pray for others.

Born to Die

2010-12-06T06:15:00.000-05:00

Teenager!

2010-12-02T07:34:00.008-05:00

Well, here we go again! I have a teenager in the house once more. Somehow I think this time around will be different. Girls and boys are SO DIFFERENT! I've discovered that fact over the years. And my daughter is a unique person, wise and responsible. I will not buy into our culture's view that the teenage years will be tumultuous and difficult.

Arielle is 13! She decided she is too old for our usual kind of party with friends coming for crafts and games. With all that has been going on here, I wasn't up for it anyway. Financially we can't do the birthday event parties where the group goes to an ice skating rink or a pottery-making studio. But I told Arielle I would give her a day off from school and we could go or do anything--just the three of us girls.

Arielle had a hard time choosing. But she decided she wanted to shop 'til we dropped. So we did. We went to the mall and I bought her some needed clothing. We had smoothies from the food court and then walked around sampling all the food the vendors were handing out. We found Santa, just to see if it is the same "real" Santa who has always been at this mall every year since Arielle was a baby. He's getting old. With some trepidation we walked over and discussed how sad it would be if he wasn't there. But he was!

We bought Fred a birthday gift and Kelsey a Christmas gift. Liana bought an outfit for her new Build-A-Bear. We walked over to the next-door mall we never visit and found a great family gift for my nieces. I won't say what it is here, just in case my brother is reading. The best part of this trip was having no schedule, just doing whatever the girls wanted. Finally even Arielle had had enough and we went home. I made her favorite birthday soup. Then her cousin Julie called and that really made her night special.

Arielle wanted a new guitar for her birthday. She doesn't have a teacher, but we got her an instructional DVD. She also has a brother who plays guitar, so she looks forward to him showing her some techniques. Amazingly, she has already learned how to tune the guitar and how to play some simple chords. Her years of piano study have helped in reading the music and understanding the terms. My little girl has grown up! How blessed I am that she is my daughter!

Giving Thanks

2010-11-29T08:07:00.013-05:00

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. Most all our family gathered around the table this year. Everyone is a year older, but here we are all together on this earth. That alone is enough to be thankful for. But we have more. We have joy and laughter, stories and memories, good food, and love.

Dominic and Stacia arrived from D.C. for a few days. The family comes together when they are here. I wonder if in every family there is one person or couple who unites the others and makes family gatherings fun. Stacia wanted to help me cook and when she is here, cooking isn't so lonely and tedious. Liana also joined in to make the rolls. Dominic set up his laptop in the kitchen and he taught Arielle how to edit video. We had a fun day-before-Thanksgiving.

Arielle, as always, entertained the little ones. She is sensitive to include each one and makes sure they all have fun. Sometimes there is squabbling when cousins get together, but Arielle is a great mediator.

I always think of this scripture every year when we sit down to dinner. I wish I had a picture of all of us around the table. I read this years ago when we were going through a hard time and I took it as a promise from God that blessings would come. It has been fulfilled. Okay, we don't have sheep and cattle, but read the deeper meaning!

"May our sons in their youth be like plants full grown, our daughters like corner pillars cut for the structure of a palace. May our granaries be full, providing all kinds of produce, may our sheep bring forth thousands and ten thousands in our fields. May our cattle be heavy with young, suffering no mishap or failure in bearing. May there be no cry of distress in our streets. Blessed are the people to whom such blessings fall. Blessed are the people whose God is the Lord!" Psalm 144:12-15.

Christmas on the Radio

2010-11-22T07:26:00.010-05:00

Many years ago when I was a single mom with little ones living in St. Louis, I rented a small apartment. Our complex of only about a dozen one-story units arranged in a horseshoe shape allowed us to become somewhat close to our neighbors, whether we wanted to or not. An elderly couple lived a few doors down and on summer evenings their front door would be open and you could get a glimpse of them sitting in their recliners. And you couldn't miss hearing them. One or both of them must have been hearing impaired because the TV or radio blasted out noise all evening long. It was so loud I could hear every word and every song of The Lawrence Welk Show that they seemed to love. This couple was a mystery to me, so far removed from my life. I couldn't imagine getting old and staying home listening to the radio or TV all night.

Tonight I thought about that couple. Fred is working so hard at his three jobs that he is exhausted by early evening. Usually he collapses and falls asleep before we even begin to get ready for bed. I come in and turn off the lights and the blaring TV. But this night he is still awake and it's not the TV that's on. He's brought an old radio into the bedroom and he is listening to Christmas music. The girls and I join him, talking about the old songs, singing along. Every year Fred listens to this particular station in the car because right around Thanksgiving it plays a 24 hour Christmas music marathon. We know all the words to these songs. Sometimes I wish we could hear a few new ones.

Tonight we listen to Andy Williams, a young Michael Jackson, Jimmy Durante, Karen Carpenter, John Lennon, Frank Sinatra...Neil Diamond--finally someone who is still alive! We laugh about that. Fred is covered up to his neck in big blankets. He's cold. He's tired. He says, "I'm getting to be an old man."

Fred loves Christmas. Earlier in the day he put up the lights outside and set up our lighted angel in front of the house. He stopped at a hardware store and bought a battery operated snow globe that blows the "snow" around while Burl Ives sings songs from the old cartoon, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."

The mystery of aging is solved. It's us! Just slower and more tired. It's knowing what's important in life, sitting with your spouse listening to Lawrence Welk on summer nights or laughing with your family and singing old Christmas songs. It's being satisfied with small joys.

As I wrote earlier, we want to celebrate the holidays in a God-honoring way. Do we totally reject the secular trappings and devote ourselves solely to the sacred? I think about that tonight. Yes, we are very aware that Christmas is the day God sent the greatest gift to mankind, the gift of his Son who would be the Savior of the world. But Christmas is also a family tradition, one we have kept since childhood. It is a time for reminiscing about the years that came before. I am thinking of small boys in pjs watching the Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer cartoon on TV. This was before you could buy the video and watch it whenever you wanted. You had to wait for it to come at Christmas! I think of the only time my mother ever sang. We kids were sitting on the couch with her in our little house in Arizona and she was teaching us the old carols. She sang "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and I've loved that song ever since. I think of my little girls lying on the floor beside the lit-up Christmas tree that is towering above them, watching Daddy's electric trains go around and around, lost in their imagination.

A new song comes on that I've never heard before. It's the Trans-Siberian Orchestra playing "Christmas Canon Rock." Liana catches my eye. She recognizes one of her favorite pieces of music, Pachelbel's Canon in D. This is a jazzed-up version on an electric guitar, but we are still mesmerized and silent as we listen. It's magical.

God is honored when we think back and smile on the rich, full life he has given us and when we gather our loved ones around us making new memories that they will someday treasure.

A Goat for Christmas

2010-11-16T07:39:00.005-05:00

It's the Christmas season again. How did that happen so fast? We've been having a lot of discussion lately with our grown kids about celebrating Christmas, cutting back on gift-buying, getting back to the the meaning of the holiday and avoiding the materialism. What pleases God in celebrating the birth of his son?

Years ago Fred and I sponsored a child through World Vision. So we continue to be on that organization's mailing list. We recently received a gift catalog. I thumbed through it and set it aside. The purpose of it is that you buy gifts for others, but they don't go to that person. The gifts go to poor villages in places like Zimbabwe, El Salvador, or Bangladesh. The gifts you can buy are farm animals, clothing, fruit trees, seeds, medicine, mosquito nets, clean water, tuition, or sewing machines. These things help to keep people healthy, feed them, or help them make a living.

I came across the catalog again and tossed it in the trash...but then pulled it out again. I was going to tell Fred I think we should give something. Fred would agree, but then I realized it had to be more personal. Instead of Fred buying me a gift for Christmas as he always does, I told him I wanted something from this catalog. He then decided he wanted the same from me.

The girls and I have since looked through the catalog many times and talked about what gift we would give. All the gifts are so necessary and needed. But I like the idea of giving an animal. Which one? After much discussion, we decided on a goat and chickens. The goat could provide milk and cheese and the chickens would provide eggs. They can forage and not require a lot of expense to feed. Their fertilizer will be good for a vegetable garden.

Now there would be people who would say this is nonsense. Will our money really go to buy a goat? I think World Vision is a trusted organization. Our church has some sort of relationship with them and has even adopted a village in Mali. People I actually know have gone to Mali and worked in that village.

It's a small thing. But we can pass on gifts this year and hopefully make one small bit of difference for a family in a village far away.

Anyone else so inspired, check out the website: http://www.worldvisiongifts.org/.

Retreat

2010-11-09T07:16:00.004-05:00

It's the official start of the Christmas season at our house! Saturday night Fred made the first fire in the woodstove and we all retreated to our cozy little room in the basement and watched Christmas videos. The girls chose "Santa Clause 2" and "Elf." Silly, funny movies that we have seen a dozen times yet they never grow old because they are part of our family's tradition. When we hear the familiar lines and music, it means Christmas is coming.

We needed this. After the foray into the medical world of uncertainty and fear, we needed familiarity and sameness. We needed each other. This is not a same-old, boring routine we do every year. We rejoice to do it all again! Another year of life! Another Christmas!

The best part of watching movies over and over again is that you can do other things and you won't miss the story. Liana had her Build-A-Bear toys out and she was lost in her own world with them. Arielle was making a Christmas craft, painting and decorating a wooden ornament. Fred was roasting hot dogs over the fire, and I was hand-sewing the binding on Liana's quilt. I'm amazed how working my fingers brings me peace. Generations of women before me have found this gentle rhythm relaxing, I'm sure.

Yet in the midst of our tranquil evening, I am not quite at rest. Two friends of mine are going through terrifying ordeals. One, a mom of two young girls, was just diagnosed with breast cancer. For another, her husband has a debilitating muscle or nerve disorder, and he is going downhill fast. Doctors can't figure out what is wrong, and this night she is at the hospital with him. So much pain and fear in this world. The carefully ordered lives we create for ourselves are often shaken apart.

Our pastor says we try so hard to get our kingdoms not to shake that we neglect the unshakable kingdom. We are to hold fast to Christ because everything else shakes, and all will be lost except what is tethered to God's grace in Christ.

My son Jonathan and I had a talk the other night about suffering in the world. He paraphrased the idea of this verse, and he is so right. "For I consider that the suffering of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." Romans 8:18.

Scripture says all of creation, including us, groan inwardly as we wait for redemption and the end to the pain of this world. We can't even imagine what comes next. Our greatest earthly joys are only a hint of what is to come. In the meantime, "Who can separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:35-39.

So we live in the moment, trusting God, and thanking him for what we have.