It seems like only yesterday that I held a beautiful bundle of baby boy in my arms, my first child, my son. I loved cuddling him, watching him sleep, and seeing him discover his ever expanding world. That little guy filled me with awe, wonder, and joy. How long has it really been? Just over forty-seven years, now. Wow.
It seems like only a few hours ago I was hurriedly driving in the dark of night from my home to the big city hospital with my son and daughter-in-law in the back seat. She had gone into early labor during a weekend visit. It wasn't long until I once again held a beautiful bundle of baby boy in my arms, my first grandchild, my son's son. How long has it really been? Just over twenty-two years, now. Wow.
It seems like only minutes from now that my first grandson will bring a beautiful, young, Christian woman into our family when they exchange their "I dos" before God, family, and friends. Wow. Where have the years gone? They have been good times.
The wedding that seems like just minutes away is actually ten hours from now. Flowers still need to be arranged as the church is readied. Hair needs to be styled, makeup applied, and beautiful dresses donned as the ladies get ready. The teenage girls will be bursting with excitement as they primp and giggle before mirrors. The guys? They are going to play golf. Then they will be putting on their tuxes. The rain, will it come or stay away? Who knows. And the bride and groom? Excited, happy, and overwhelmed as they continue crossing items off their to-do lists. This day will be filled with adventure, excitement, unknowns, and firsts. But above all, it will be a day filled with smiles as God blesses the union of two very special people and two very special families.
Thank you, Lord.
Years ago Jesus blessed a wedding in Cana of Galilee by performing his very first miracle after a need had been recognized--they had run out of wine. Jesus requested the servants fill jugs with ordinary water, then he changed it into the very best drink from the fruit of the vine. That is what Jesus does. He change things--not only water, but also lives and relationships.
It is my prayer that as this young couple begins a new life together, they will be constantly aware of Christ's presence in their midst, they will recognize their times of need, and will let Jesus change their "ordinary" water into his extraordinary "wine".
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
My Bucket List
How many of us have made bucket lists? Not I. It seems like anyone who is anyone has such a list, so I thought I had better get busy if I want to be someone, which I'm not sure I do. Anyway, here is my bucket list. I am putting it together as I sit here trying to think. That's not easy when I've had only a few sips of coffee. Oh! I'm not drinking coffee today am I? I had some yesterday. Let me see now, buckets...
Now I will prayerfully develop a time line, seek promises in scripture, circle them all in prayer and move as God helps me set goals to attainthe my dreams. My first goal is to submit a story I have written to Guidepost by the middle of July. The piece is finished. I've been sitting on it for over a month. I need to act. I can do this. Oh yes, for clarification, July 2012.
The first promise I am circling is from James 1:5-8 "If anyone lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives abundantly to all, without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt. For he who doubts is like the wave on the sea, tossed and blown by the wind. That person must not think he will receive anything from the Lord, for he is a double-minded man and unstable in all he does."
Oh Lord, let me not doubt.
jansjournal@hotmail.com
- Four plastic 5 gallon buckets with handles and lids--in garage
- Two plastic 5 gallon buckets, handle-less, lidless, cracked--next to garbage can
- Two plastic 5 gallon buckets, with handles, lidless, filled with weeds and rain water--on the far side of the garage
- Six plastic 5 gallon buckets, handle-less, lidless, filled with junk from various projects--on far side of garage.
- Two blue antique milk buckets, rusted bottoms, used as planters--on front porch
- Two white decorative buckets, 2 inches tall, containing hair bands and clips--on my dresser
- One galvanized decorative bucket, 2 inches tall, containing misc. buttons, screws, and a water gun--on my kitchen window sill
And there you have it, my bucket list, and I haven't kicked any of them yet. Actually, I do need to kick a few buckets--kick them right out of here, into the trailer, and take them off to the dump. That will be the first item on my real bucket list when I get around to making one. Wait, that is not a bucket list item. Scratch that out and put it on my To-do list. There, I've accomplished something today. I started a to-do list.
Seriously, though, I have never made a bucket list, a life goals list, or a wish list. About the only lists I make are titled Grocery and To-do. Ask any of my kids and they will tell you I even have a difficult time coming up with a Christmas list. I guess I learned at an early age that if I didn't desire, hope, dream, wish, or want, I wouldn't be disappointed. Sadly, as a result, I have denied myself seeking the things God desired for me, then seeing him bring them about.
Mark Batterson's book The Circle Maker is an excellent resource on this topic. Throughout his ministry he sought God's dreams for him and the goals to reach them. Even though most of them are humanly impossible, they are from God for whom all things are possible. Some were achieved almost immediately while others may not be achieved for years. The wonderful part is seeing God bring his plans to fruition through Batterson's diligent prayer and fasting.
After finishing the book last night, I truly feel I need to seek God in this area. First off, I need to let myself dream dreams, than see if they line up with God's plan. That will take work on my part. Just dreaming will be something new for me, but seeking God and listening for his voice, his guidance, and his wisdom is much more than the so called "arrow" prayer I pray so often.
In the recesses of my mind are two dreams I have kept at bay for several years. I believe they are part of God's plan for me. I have taken baby steps towards them. This blog is one teetering baby step, but self doubt tends to keep me back. I know it is a spiritual battle that needs to be fought more diligently. In spite of encouragement and affirmation from family and friends, I wonder if it's God's time for me to move forward. The thing is, God can't use me if I don't move forward. But if I do move forward when it isn't his time, what then? Well, the worse thing that can happen is doors will be closed and he will continue preparing me until it is the right time.
So, friends, here is the beginning of my bucket, life goal, dream list.
Take old, useless buckets to the dump(move to To-do list)- Write a book
- Speak to women's groups
Now I will prayerfully develop a time line, seek promises in scripture, circle them all in prayer and move as God helps me set goals to attain
The first promise I am circling is from James 1:5-8 "If anyone lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives abundantly to all, without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt. For he who doubts is like the wave on the sea, tossed and blown by the wind. That person must not think he will receive anything from the Lord, for he is a double-minded man and unstable in all he does."
Oh Lord, let me not doubt.
jansjournal@hotmail.com
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Little Things That Make Me Smile
Do you remember what I wrote last week about finding my lawn mower's gas tank full? That's right. It brought a huge smile to my face! I love full gas tanks.
There are many more things that make me smile. I'm talking about the little things, not the obvious ones like a comedian, a good joke, or an obviously silly kid (or adult for that matter). I mean the little occurrences that make you grin. I don't know what makes you smile, but here are a few of mine.
There are many more things that make me smile. I'm talking about the little things, not the obvious ones like a comedian, a good joke, or an obviously silly kid (or adult for that matter). I mean the little occurrences that make you grin. I don't know what makes you smile, but here are a few of mine.
- Buying groceries and saving more than I spent. That's what I did this morning--spent $75 and saved $46. I still can't get the grin off my face.
- Waking up to sun shine--I love it.
- Seeing deer in my yard--beautiful and serene.
- Hearing birds sing--Oh, the joy.
- Watching beautiful sun sets--how do those happen?
- Clean windows--feels good.
- Bibi the parrot. She is streaming live every day on the internet. Search for Watch-the-Birdie. Bibi provided company and humor during my rough days. She is quite talkative in the mornings, late afternoons.
- Looking at my newly mowed yard--love to see the payoff of hard work.
- Watching the wheels turn in my grand kids minds. I would love to know their thought processes.
- Listening to children's conversations--delightful, amusing, thought provoking.
- Watching my family play games and laugh--pure joy.
- Clouds--their shapes, colors, and sizes amaze me and make me smile. I don't know why. They just do.
- The play of sun, shadow, reflection and color on tide flats, rivers, lakes or any other reflective surface. I smile at the beauty and wonder how to paint it.
- The sound of rain on the roof--love it.
- Discovering a beautiful flower hidden among the weeds--such persistence.
- Sitting in the tranquility of my living room--peace in the Lord's presence.
- Watching all the young families at church--love seeing the moms and dads tending their flocks. Those families are blessed.
- Knowing God has won the war. I just have to fight some battles. (actually this isn't a little thing. It is rather huge, but it still makes me smile).
I could go on, but won't. I'll let you make your own list of little things that make you smile. Isn't God wonderful for providing each of us with so many little things.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
I Am Angry (continued 3)
Today's blog will finish up what I had begun writing on the afternoon of my 45th wedding anniversary as I answered my therapist's question, "What are you angry about?" At this point on my bumpy ride I had been going through therapy for only a short period of time. During my hour with Dr. B. each week, I had not been able to come up with any emotions I was experiencing or had experienced. All I could tell her was that I was ticked off and sad. I told her I knew God was in control and had been in control the whole time. I told her I knew God would use this whole sordid mess for good. How that would happen I didn't know, but I didn't want to miss it.
I want to make one thing clear at this point. At no time during my therapy did Dr. B make any judgement calls on my comments. At one point she did remind me that emotions were God given, but each week she basically asked questions that caused me to probe for the answers. As each session came to a close, she would give me a writing assignment, which I did not appreciate. I didn't mind the idea of writing, I didn't want to have to think.
Through the combination of our weekly conversations, her thought provoking questions, and the writing assignments, God began to reveal that I had a lot of work to do. After all, he had created me with the ability to feel. With the Spirit's help I had to discover where I had hidden my emotions, haul them out from those dark recesses of my mind, and name them so they could be dealt with. I was shown that sorrow, anger, confusion, doubt, hatred, etc were just some of the emotions I had been given as a human. I had also been given compassion, love, joy, hope, etc as well. They formed who I was. My feelings by themselves were neither bad nor good. It's what I was doing with them or allow them to do to me that would either give God glory or cause me great problems. By pushing my feelings away whenever they arose and then denying they ever existed, I was destroying part of who I was as God's child.
As I wrote on that Sunday afternoon, I had some fear. I didn't know what I would find in my search for anger. What I discovered were sentences coming off the end of my pen that surprised even me. After thoughts were completed I would re-read them and either ask myself, "Where in the world did that come from?" or tell myself, "Hummm, that's an interesting thought." After a couple hours of introspection and thought, I came to the final paragraph that went like this:
"In spite of it all, I am thankful. I'm thankful I had the investments necessary to weather the worst of the storm. I'm thankful for my wonderful kids who are going through their own kind of pain, but still find time to call and talk about their day, drop in unannounced, invite me to dinner or coffee and a chat, call to "check up" on me, or slip me small financial gifts just because. These extra dollars allow me to to see an occasional movie, get a Whopper at Burger King, buy cute socks or colorful bedding plants, or take a grandchild out for a treat, things that just aren't in my budget. I'm thankful I have discovered a part of myself I didn't know existed. I CAN figure out how to get the mower blades to engage. I CAN physically empty heavy bags of grass clippings. I CAN use the weed-eater. I CAN maneuver the garbage and recycle bins to the road. I CAN let my kids help me when necessary. I am a much stronger person today than I was 18 months ago. For that, in spite of my anger, I am thankful."
Three years ago it was not nearly as clear as it is today that what I really have to be thankful for is my Lord who is always at work as the advance man. He is the one who put everything into place ahead of time. Even now he has put everything into place for tomorrow, next month, next year. I just have to keep my heart, mind, and spiritual eyes open to what he has prepared, do what he wants me to do, and give him the thanks and the glory. Notice the word "just"? I could have used "only" or "merely" instead. Any one of those three words make the verbs seem as if they're easy to do. They are not.
I do know though that I CAN do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
I can be contacted at jansjournal@hotmail.com
I want to make one thing clear at this point. At no time during my therapy did Dr. B make any judgement calls on my comments. At one point she did remind me that emotions were God given, but each week she basically asked questions that caused me to probe for the answers. As each session came to a close, she would give me a writing assignment, which I did not appreciate. I didn't mind the idea of writing, I didn't want to have to think.
Through the combination of our weekly conversations, her thought provoking questions, and the writing assignments, God began to reveal that I had a lot of work to do. After all, he had created me with the ability to feel. With the Spirit's help I had to discover where I had hidden my emotions, haul them out from those dark recesses of my mind, and name them so they could be dealt with. I was shown that sorrow, anger, confusion, doubt, hatred, etc were just some of the emotions I had been given as a human. I had also been given compassion, love, joy, hope, etc as well. They formed who I was. My feelings by themselves were neither bad nor good. It's what I was doing with them or allow them to do to me that would either give God glory or cause me great problems. By pushing my feelings away whenever they arose and then denying they ever existed, I was destroying part of who I was as God's child.
As I wrote on that Sunday afternoon, I had some fear. I didn't know what I would find in my search for anger. What I discovered were sentences coming off the end of my pen that surprised even me. After thoughts were completed I would re-read them and either ask myself, "Where in the world did that come from?" or tell myself, "Hummm, that's an interesting thought." After a couple hours of introspection and thought, I came to the final paragraph that went like this:
"In spite of it all, I am thankful. I'm thankful I had the investments necessary to weather the worst of the storm. I'm thankful for my wonderful kids who are going through their own kind of pain, but still find time to call and talk about their day, drop in unannounced, invite me to dinner or coffee and a chat, call to "check up" on me, or slip me small financial gifts just because. These extra dollars allow me to to see an occasional movie, get a Whopper at Burger King, buy cute socks or colorful bedding plants, or take a grandchild out for a treat, things that just aren't in my budget. I'm thankful I have discovered a part of myself I didn't know existed. I CAN figure out how to get the mower blades to engage. I CAN physically empty heavy bags of grass clippings. I CAN use the weed-eater. I CAN maneuver the garbage and recycle bins to the road. I CAN let my kids help me when necessary. I am a much stronger person today than I was 18 months ago. For that, in spite of my anger, I am thankful."
Three years ago it was not nearly as clear as it is today that what I really have to be thankful for is my Lord who is always at work as the advance man. He is the one who put everything into place ahead of time. Even now he has put everything into place for tomorrow, next month, next year. I just have to keep my heart, mind, and spiritual eyes open to what he has prepared, do what he wants me to do, and give him the thanks and the glory. Notice the word "just"? I could have used "only" or "merely" instead. Any one of those three words make the verbs seem as if they're easy to do. They are not.
I do know though that I CAN do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
I can be contacted at jansjournal@hotmail.com
Monday, June 25, 2012
I Am Angry (continued 2)
Why have there been no new posts the last two days? I've was out of town for a bridal shower. Since I have two grandsons getting married within the next six weeks, it seems like I have been on the road almost every weekend lately. All the trips weren't wedding related though. Two were for college graduation and Air Force commissioning events and parties. It has been fun.
For the next few moments, I will put the fun aside and return to my previous blog topic, anger. This anger is what I was feeling on my wedding anniversary in 2009 while I sat in my sun room and journaled. As I said before, my anger was not, and still isn't directed at my husband. My anger is directed at sin and its consequences. His actions hurt everyone he knew, especially his family.
"I am angry about the pain he caused his granddaughters--awakening in them some 'wonders' of their bodies that should never have been revealed at their ages of innocence. I am angry at the potential emotional and psychological harm he has caused.
"I am angry about the $100 worth of just filled prescriptions sitting on the dining room table waiting to be tossed into the garbage--fifty days worth of three different medications plus eye drops that couldn't be transferred from the County Jail to the State Prison. What a waste!!
"I am angry because he threw away everything he held dear: dinner and movies with me on date nights, river walks with his daughter-in-law, riding shot-gun into town with his son-in-law or son, hikes and camping trips with his entire family, birthday parties, school award assemblies and plays, holiday breakfasts that he loved preparing, spur of the moment phone calls to his kids, and playing with his grand kids. He threw away ministries he loved including our church's jail ministry. In addition, he threw away the things yet to come: track meets, basketball, soccer, and volleyball games, graduations, weddings, and great-grandchildren. He threw it all away. That angers me.
"I am angry that he has denied his grand kids the opportunity to get to know him as the gentle, kind, funny, wise man I married. I pray they don't remember him as a sick child molester spending his days sitting in a prison. To some grand kids he is still Papa, but to others he is now called by his first name. So sad.
"I am angry about the loneliness this has caused me--no more hugs, kisses, embraces, talks or cuddle time. I'm angry about having to fight back tears so I can drive safely. Times come when I must stop reading or whatever else I am doing to just let the tears flow. I don't like dealing with tears."
There you have it, some of what I was angry about. Many of those angers are still there, especially the ones about... To be perfectly honest, they all still make me angry to some extent when I take time to think about them. The good part is I feel more sadness than anger now, but there is still emotion attached to all of them except the waste of the medications and money to purchase them.
The last paragraph in my journal entry will be my blog tomorrow. It begins, "In spite of it all, I am thankful."
I can be reached by e-mail jansjournal@hotmail.com
For the next few moments, I will put the fun aside and return to my previous blog topic, anger. This anger is what I was feeling on my wedding anniversary in 2009 while I sat in my sun room and journaled. As I said before, my anger was not, and still isn't directed at my husband. My anger is directed at sin and its consequences. His actions hurt everyone he knew, especially his family.
"I am angry about the pain he caused his granddaughters--awakening in them some 'wonders' of their bodies that should never have been revealed at their ages of innocence. I am angry at the potential emotional and psychological harm he has caused.
"I am angry about the $100 worth of just filled prescriptions sitting on the dining room table waiting to be tossed into the garbage--fifty days worth of three different medications plus eye drops that couldn't be transferred from the County Jail to the State Prison. What a waste!!
"I am angry because he threw away everything he held dear: dinner and movies with me on date nights, river walks with his daughter-in-law, riding shot-gun into town with his son-in-law or son, hikes and camping trips with his entire family, birthday parties, school award assemblies and plays, holiday breakfasts that he loved preparing, spur of the moment phone calls to his kids, and playing with his grand kids. He threw away ministries he loved including our church's jail ministry. In addition, he threw away the things yet to come: track meets, basketball, soccer, and volleyball games, graduations, weddings, and great-grandchildren. He threw it all away. That angers me.
"I am angry that he has denied his grand kids the opportunity to get to know him as the gentle, kind, funny, wise man I married. I pray they don't remember him as a sick child molester spending his days sitting in a prison. To some grand kids he is still Papa, but to others he is now called by his first name. So sad.
"I am angry about the loneliness this has caused me--no more hugs, kisses, embraces, talks or cuddle time. I'm angry about having to fight back tears so I can drive safely. Times come when I must stop reading or whatever else I am doing to just let the tears flow. I don't like dealing with tears."
There you have it, some of what I was angry about. Many of those angers are still there, especially the ones about... To be perfectly honest, they all still make me angry to some extent when I take time to think about them. The good part is I feel more sadness than anger now, but there is still emotion attached to all of them except the waste of the medications and money to purchase them.
The last paragraph in my journal entry will be my blog tomorrow. It begins, "In spite of it all, I am thankful."
I can be reached by e-mail jansjournal@hotmail.com
Friday, June 22, 2012
I Am Angry (continued).
Yesterday I started sharing what I had written on my 45th wedding anniversary in 2009. My husband had been in jail for only 4 months. The writing was done for my therapist who wanted me to explore what I was angry about. This was a very hard thing for me to do because I didn't believe I was angry. I was ticked off, sad, confused, but I couldn't say that I was angry. Part of that was because I had confused anger with rage. There had not been any rage, therefore I must not be angry. Another part of denying anger was the way I was reared. Emotions were a waste of time and energy. I had learned quit well to suck it up and get on with life. There was no place for anger.
Well, sucking it up and getting on with life (trying to get on with life) wasn't happening. So there I sat on that Sunday afternoon and began writing about anger. The more I wrote, the more I found to be angry about. Here are the next few paragraphs that I wrote.
"I am angry about the lost dreams we had. What about the cruise to Alaska? What about Baja, Mexico? What about seeing all 50 states. We had such a great start. What about reliving the Western States trip we took with my folks and our kids. This time it was going to be you, me, our kids and grand kids. What about that? Sure, I can do some of this by myself, but not without guilt. Not guilt about going alone, but about spending part of what's left from our meager nest egg. I am angry enough to say, 'You threw me into this pit, so listen here buddy. I'm spending the rest of the money fulfilling our dreams all by myself. So there.' I'm angry enough to say it, but not angry enough to do it.
"I am angry about all the responsibilities I have been left with--or should I say had dumped on me? I hate making phone calls to start with, but dealing with credit card companies, attorneys, Social Security personnel, doctors, dentists, pharmacies, etc. was so hard. BUT I DID IT and SURVIVED. I don't want to ever go through that again any time soon. And then there is our home--a home I love. All the little things that can and do go wrong have to be dealt with. The wooden gutters are rotting and some of the soffits need replacing. Spigots in the garden that were broken off in the winter storm are still unusable, so I have left the orchard to fend for itself--getting watered only by the rain. Two giant fir trees are still down, needing to be cut up. The dishwasher is broken. NO BIG DEAL. I don't mind doing dishes by hand. Yes, it is a big deal, especially when I have the whole gang over.
"Being one to rationalize, I ask myself, 'What would I do if my husband had died?' The answer that comes is, 'The spigots would still be snapped off, the dishwasher still broken, the gutters still rotting, and the trees still down, but I would have life insurance money at my disposal to hire the work done."
That is where I was three years ago. It is quite obvious I was operating in a "poor me" mode. In spite of all the support I had from my family, deep down inside I was scared. I was living in a world I didn't know even existed. I knew neither its dangers nor its beauty. I had to learn how to navigate in a new land.
I bit the bullet, re-roofed the house, and had new gutters installed. That very difficult decision turned out to be the right one at the right time--God's time. There was quite a bit of rot in the rafters that could have spelled disaster in a heavy snow. God is good. The downed trees have been cut up and given to people in need of fire wood, thanks to a local volunteer fireman.
The dishwasher still doesn't work, but the new system works great. We fill the sink with hot soapy water and each person washes his own plate, utensils, and glass, rinses them, dries them, and puts then away. Not only does it work well, it causes a lot of laughs. The outdoor faucets still haven't been repaired, but there is enough rain to keep the apple trees producing and the grass green.
While learning to navigate my new world I have discovered that not only can I handle much more than I thought, but also that my kids, who help out whenever they can, however they can, are absolutely amazing. Thankfully, what had been foreign to me three years ago, is now a world I have learned to enjoy and celebrate.
Above all, I have learned, as I have said over and over, that God is faithful, faithful, faithful. He has provided encouragement when I needed it most. He has provided support when I was feeling weak. He has provided advice when I was questioning my decisions. He has provided various provisions when I was lacking.
To my family and friends, God has answered prayers, many of them unspoken, through you when you were not even aware if it. Thank you for your obedience. You are truly treasures who have blessed me greatly.
Well, sucking it up and getting on with life (trying to get on with life) wasn't happening. So there I sat on that Sunday afternoon and began writing about anger. The more I wrote, the more I found to be angry about. Here are the next few paragraphs that I wrote.
"I am angry about the lost dreams we had. What about the cruise to Alaska? What about Baja, Mexico? What about seeing all 50 states. We had such a great start. What about reliving the Western States trip we took with my folks and our kids. This time it was going to be you, me, our kids and grand kids. What about that? Sure, I can do some of this by myself, but not without guilt. Not guilt about going alone, but about spending part of what's left from our meager nest egg. I am angry enough to say, 'You threw me into this pit, so listen here buddy. I'm spending the rest of the money fulfilling our dreams all by myself. So there.' I'm angry enough to say it, but not angry enough to do it.
"I am angry about all the responsibilities I have been left with--or should I say had dumped on me? I hate making phone calls to start with, but dealing with credit card companies, attorneys, Social Security personnel, doctors, dentists, pharmacies, etc. was so hard. BUT I DID IT and SURVIVED. I don't want to ever go through that again any time soon. And then there is our home--a home I love. All the little things that can and do go wrong have to be dealt with. The wooden gutters are rotting and some of the soffits need replacing. Spigots in the garden that were broken off in the winter storm are still unusable, so I have left the orchard to fend for itself--getting watered only by the rain. Two giant fir trees are still down, needing to be cut up. The dishwasher is broken. NO BIG DEAL. I don't mind doing dishes by hand. Yes, it is a big deal, especially when I have the whole gang over.
"Being one to rationalize, I ask myself, 'What would I do if my husband had died?' The answer that comes is, 'The spigots would still be snapped off, the dishwasher still broken, the gutters still rotting, and the trees still down, but I would have life insurance money at my disposal to hire the work done."
That is where I was three years ago. It is quite obvious I was operating in a "poor me" mode. In spite of all the support I had from my family, deep down inside I was scared. I was living in a world I didn't know even existed. I knew neither its dangers nor its beauty. I had to learn how to navigate in a new land.
I bit the bullet, re-roofed the house, and had new gutters installed. That very difficult decision turned out to be the right one at the right time--God's time. There was quite a bit of rot in the rafters that could have spelled disaster in a heavy snow. God is good. The downed trees have been cut up and given to people in need of fire wood, thanks to a local volunteer fireman.
The dishwasher still doesn't work, but the new system works great. We fill the sink with hot soapy water and each person washes his own plate, utensils, and glass, rinses them, dries them, and puts then away. Not only does it work well, it causes a lot of laughs. The outdoor faucets still haven't been repaired, but there is enough rain to keep the apple trees producing and the grass green.
While learning to navigate my new world I have discovered that not only can I handle much more than I thought, but also that my kids, who help out whenever they can, however they can, are absolutely amazing. Thankfully, what had been foreign to me three years ago, is now a world I have learned to enjoy and celebrate.
Above all, I have learned, as I have said over and over, that God is faithful, faithful, faithful. He has provided encouragement when I needed it most. He has provided support when I was feeling weak. He has provided advice when I was questioning my decisions. He has provided various provisions when I was lacking.
To my family and friends, God has answered prayers, many of them unspoken, through you when you were not even aware if it. Thank you for your obedience. You are truly treasures who have blessed me greatly.
Something New
I can be reached this e-mail address:
jan'sjournal@hotmail.com
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Wedding Anniversary 2009
Today is my forth-eighth wedding anniversary. Man alive, I barely get that sentence off the tips of my fingers, and my throat tightens up and tears start forming. I'm caught by surprise again. I had no idea that was going to happen, but it did. (blow, snort, sniff, inhale deeply) Now, let's proceed.
When I plopped down on the sofa a couple minutes ago, I had a scrambled egg sandwich on my plate, and a different idea for this blog. This is how it transpired. I had just gone out to the garage to see if there was any gas in the mower. I was afraid I would have to make a trip to town to get fuel before I could mow. The tank was full!! Now that makes me happy. With a big smile on my face, I fixed my sandwich and thought about other little things that bring me joy. There were quite a few. Soon my idea had taken on a life of its own and my sandwich was ready to eat.
Why, oh why I wrote that first sentence is beyond me. Yes, it is my anniversary today. Yes, I got a card and a note from my husband. No, I didn't send him anything. Did I forget? No. That pretty much says it all. Even though I wrote on my Father's Day blog about recognizing my husband as a good father, I chose not to recognize the fact we have over forty years of good memories together. I still have a lot of healing to do. BUT, I have come a long way .
While going through the notebooks of written material from the past years, I came across one titled "I'm Angry Because..." dated Sunday, June 21, 2009. That was my first anniversary spent alone. The first paragraph described a beautiful day, beautiful yard that had lots of work to be done (nothing new), and the work family members had done to trim up my trees. Finally I wrote, "Rattling on and on about the yard isn't why I'm writing. I want to get on paper the reasons I am angry. This endeavor is a result of my therapist's questions about my lack of anger over this whole affair. So, here goes.
"First of all, I think I was confusing anger with RAGE. No, there has been no rage, but yes, there is anger. What I am about to say might sound crazy and even make little sense, but my anger seems to be over the consequences of my husbands actions and not the action itself. I am angry over the hardship, heart break and damage he brought upon the entire family, and to a lesser extent, our friends, but especially to me.
"I AM ANGRY THAT TODAY, OUR 45TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, HE IS SITTING IN A PRISON CELL WHILE I SAT IN CHURCH ALONE, CAME HOME TO AN EMPTY HOUSE (the dog doesn't count), AND TEARED UP OVER THE LEAST LITTLE THING.
"I am angry about the financial situation I have been put into. I have found myself spending hours figuring out what income I have to work with after losing $1,300 in Social Security. Sorting out monthly, bimonthly, quarterly, and annual bills would bring tears of anger and frustration. Having to throw attorney fees along with polygrapher and psychologist bills into the mix added insult to injury. I was angry about having to take large amounts of our investments out to pay off our credit card debt and the attorney's retainer fee when the market was falling at a rapid rate. Getting the "out-go" less than the "In-come" was painful. I was not a happy camper."
The rest of my anger, which I will share this next week, is expressed in paragraphs that start like this:
I am angry about the lost dreams we had.
I am angry about all the responsibilities I have been left with--or should I say had dumped on me.
I am angry about the pain he caused our granddaughters...
I am angry about the $100 worth of prescriptions sitting on the dining room table waiting to be tossed...
I am angry because my husband threw away everything he held dear...
I am angry that he has denied his grand kids the opportunity to get to know him as the...
I am angry about the loneliness this has caused.
In spite of it all, I am thankful because...
Stay tuned for what I wrote in those paragraphs in 2009, because here in 2012 the anger is mostly gone. There is still some sadness, but as I look at the difference between then and now, I smile.
I can now be contacted at jansjournal@hotmail.com
When I plopped down on the sofa a couple minutes ago, I had a scrambled egg sandwich on my plate, and a different idea for this blog. This is how it transpired. I had just gone out to the garage to see if there was any gas in the mower. I was afraid I would have to make a trip to town to get fuel before I could mow. The tank was full!! Now that makes me happy. With a big smile on my face, I fixed my sandwich and thought about other little things that bring me joy. There were quite a few. Soon my idea had taken on a life of its own and my sandwich was ready to eat.
Why, oh why I wrote that first sentence is beyond me. Yes, it is my anniversary today. Yes, I got a card and a note from my husband. No, I didn't send him anything. Did I forget? No. That pretty much says it all. Even though I wrote on my Father's Day blog about recognizing my husband as a good father, I chose not to recognize the fact we have over forty years of good memories together. I still have a lot of healing to do. BUT, I have come a long way .
While going through the notebooks of written material from the past years, I came across one titled "I'm Angry Because..." dated Sunday, June 21, 2009. That was my first anniversary spent alone. The first paragraph described a beautiful day, beautiful yard that had lots of work to be done (nothing new), and the work family members had done to trim up my trees. Finally I wrote, "Rattling on and on about the yard isn't why I'm writing. I want to get on paper the reasons I am angry. This endeavor is a result of my therapist's questions about my lack of anger over this whole affair. So, here goes.
"First of all, I think I was confusing anger with RAGE. No, there has been no rage, but yes, there is anger. What I am about to say might sound crazy and even make little sense, but my anger seems to be over the consequences of my husbands actions and not the action itself. I am angry over the hardship, heart break and damage he brought upon the entire family, and to a lesser extent, our friends, but especially to me.
"I AM ANGRY THAT TODAY, OUR 45TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, HE IS SITTING IN A PRISON CELL WHILE I SAT IN CHURCH ALONE, CAME HOME TO AN EMPTY HOUSE (the dog doesn't count), AND TEARED UP OVER THE LEAST LITTLE THING.
"I am angry about the financial situation I have been put into. I have found myself spending hours figuring out what income I have to work with after losing $1,300 in Social Security. Sorting out monthly, bimonthly, quarterly, and annual bills would bring tears of anger and frustration. Having to throw attorney fees along with polygrapher and psychologist bills into the mix added insult to injury. I was angry about having to take large amounts of our investments out to pay off our credit card debt and the attorney's retainer fee when the market was falling at a rapid rate. Getting the "out-go" less than the "In-come" was painful. I was not a happy camper."
The rest of my anger, which I will share this next week, is expressed in paragraphs that start like this:
I am angry about the lost dreams we had.
I am angry about all the responsibilities I have been left with--or should I say had dumped on me.
I am angry about the pain he caused our granddaughters...
I am angry about the $100 worth of prescriptions sitting on the dining room table waiting to be tossed...
I am angry because my husband threw away everything he held dear...
I am angry that he has denied his grand kids the opportunity to get to know him as the...
I am angry about the loneliness this has caused.
In spite of it all, I am thankful because...
Stay tuned for what I wrote in those paragraphs in 2009, because here in 2012 the anger is mostly gone. There is still some sadness, but as I look at the difference between then and now, I smile.
I can now be contacted at jansjournal@hotmail.com
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Enjoy your Children
I am so happy. For the past month I haven't really let myself think of everything I had lost when my laptop crashed. This morning I finally decided to look in old notebooks and binders to see what I might have saved. I am a pack rat, you know. I was so thrilled to find original copies of many things I had put into my computer plus copies of assignments I had printed off for my therapist. I knew I had started a project sometime last year, but didn't realize what a great job I had done. (High five, ol' girl! Way to go.)
So today, I am going to share something I wrote years ago for the church newsletter. It was for an article I wrote every month called, "A Mother's Musings".
"An empty-nester mom recently told me she would like to tell today's busy moms to cherish the sight of sunlight glistening on their children's hair instead of hurrying off to get some work done while the kids were outside playing. Her comment got me to thinking. Here are a few things I'd like to share.
"Enjoy the sight of a dirt-smudged face and muddy hands. This is your children's time of discovery. They will not always enjoy the feel of mud oozing through their fingers nor have the ability to run their dirty hands through their hair without feeling guilty. Let them enjoy the dirt guilt free. They can always be washed.
"Take time to enjoy the aroma of your children's freshly shampooed hair and laundered p.j.s. There is nothing like squeaky-clean children at the end of a busy day.
"Laugh at old jokes. They are new to your children. 'Knock knock.' 'Who's there?'
"Dine on pretend food.
"Marvel at the children God has given you. Be amazed at their imagination and dexterity as well as their climbing, reasoning, and speaking abilities.
"Recognize your children's uniqueness and thank God for it.
"Pray aloud with our children from the moment of birth. Say grace at every meal. Pray over skinned knees and fevered brow. Pray before bed. Even three-year-olds will learn to pray spontaneously if they hear you do it.
"My twenty-four year old son was lying on a bench, eyes closed, when his three year old nephew bounded up to him saying, 'play with me, Unca DD.' Unca DD muttered something about being very tired. That was when the small boy took DD's hand and prayed, 'Jesus, let Unca DD sleep bery good. Our Father who art in heaben and power for eber and eber. Amen.'
"Yes, even small children can pray."
So today, I am going to share something I wrote years ago for the church newsletter. It was for an article I wrote every month called, "A Mother's Musings".
"An empty-nester mom recently told me she would like to tell today's busy moms to cherish the sight of sunlight glistening on their children's hair instead of hurrying off to get some work done while the kids were outside playing. Her comment got me to thinking. Here are a few things I'd like to share.
"Enjoy the sight of a dirt-smudged face and muddy hands. This is your children's time of discovery. They will not always enjoy the feel of mud oozing through their fingers nor have the ability to run their dirty hands through their hair without feeling guilty. Let them enjoy the dirt guilt free. They can always be washed.
"Take time to enjoy the aroma of your children's freshly shampooed hair and laundered p.j.s. There is nothing like squeaky-clean children at the end of a busy day.
"Laugh at old jokes. They are new to your children. 'Knock knock.' 'Who's there?'
"Dine on pretend food.
"Marvel at the children God has given you. Be amazed at their imagination and dexterity as well as their climbing, reasoning, and speaking abilities.
"Recognize your children's uniqueness and thank God for it.
"Pray aloud with our children from the moment of birth. Say grace at every meal. Pray over skinned knees and fevered brow. Pray before bed. Even three-year-olds will learn to pray spontaneously if they hear you do it.
"My twenty-four year old son was lying on a bench, eyes closed, when his three year old nephew bounded up to him saying, 'play with me, Unca DD.' Unca DD muttered something about being very tired. That was when the small boy took DD's hand and prayed, 'Jesus, let Unca DD sleep bery good. Our Father who art in heaben and power for eber and eber. Amen.'
"Yes, even small children can pray."
Monday, June 18, 2012
They Say
My hair was still damp as I stood there after my shower, wrapped in a green bath towel and brushing my teeth. That's when I first saw it--a flash of something light-colored fluttering by the side of my face. What in the world? I quickly looked in the mirror to see what it was, but everything was a blur. I tried squinting, but knew full well that wouldn't work. You see, my glasses were somewhere on the floor next to my bed, right where they had fallen when I had taken them off the night before. Now I would have to go find them. But I decided to finish polishing the proverbial ivories first, in spite of the flapping, fluttering motion beside me. Whatever it was, it was silent and had rhythm.
I spat out the last of my tooth paste, then padded into the bedroom, stood by my bed and looked down where my glasses should be. I didn't see them. Now, sadly, comes true confession time. I need glasses to see well enough to find my glasses! It's all part of getting old they say.
So, this "old" lady had to get down on her hand and knees to see her glasses. Let me tell you, that isn't easy to do while wrapped in a bath towel. Anyway, I got down without my towel falling off and found my glasses without having to feel around for them. Then came the difficult feat of getting back on my feet without losing my loosening towel. Oh, the aches and pains. It's all part of getting old they say.
Finally, with my feet under me once again, glasses on my face, and towel tightened, I returned to the bathroom to look for something that might flutter. As you have probably guessed by now, nothing was evident. So, I decided to blow-dry my freshly shampooed hair. With my round brush in one hand and dryer in the other, I began the beautifying process. What? There it was again.
Not a flutter did I see, but a wiggle and a jiggle it was. Stopping in mid brush stroke, I stared into the mirror. Nothing moved. I began brushing and drying again--slowly this time. All was calm in the bathroom world. As I finished up, I did the old fluff-up-the-hair routine and was startled to see it again out of the corner of my eye, the flash of... Yes, you've got it, the flash of flesh. My once-toned upper arm had become a limp, flabby, fluttering, wiggly, jiggly glob of flesh that silently waved with the rhythm of my shoulder. It is all part of getting old they say.
Well, I'm not getting old. My hair may be more white than brown, by neck may be sagging, my eyes failing, my joints aching, and my arms jiggling, but I am not getting old. I am still young-at-heart, eager to learn, quick to listen, and slow to get up (I mean slow to speak). I love sports, music with a beat, and a good sermon. I believe God is supreme, all powerful, a just judge, the lover of my soul, and has a sense of humor. He did create the platypus, didn't he? I know Jesus is my Bread of Life, my Living Water, my All-in-All, and has deep feelings. He cried over Jerusalem, didn't he? And I'll sing "Jesus Loves Me" and "The B I B L E" with the youngest of folks. No, I'm not getting old no matter what they say.
By the way, just who are "They" anyway?
I spat out the last of my tooth paste, then padded into the bedroom, stood by my bed and looked down where my glasses should be. I didn't see them. Now, sadly, comes true confession time. I need glasses to see well enough to find my glasses! It's all part of getting old they say.
So, this "old" lady had to get down on her hand and knees to see her glasses. Let me tell you, that isn't easy to do while wrapped in a bath towel. Anyway, I got down without my towel falling off and found my glasses without having to feel around for them. Then came the difficult feat of getting back on my feet without losing my loosening towel. Oh, the aches and pains. It's all part of getting old they say.
Finally, with my feet under me once again, glasses on my face, and towel tightened, I returned to the bathroom to look for something that might flutter. As you have probably guessed by now, nothing was evident. So, I decided to blow-dry my freshly shampooed hair. With my round brush in one hand and dryer in the other, I began the beautifying process. What? There it was again.
Not a flutter did I see, but a wiggle and a jiggle it was. Stopping in mid brush stroke, I stared into the mirror. Nothing moved. I began brushing and drying again--slowly this time. All was calm in the bathroom world. As I finished up, I did the old fluff-up-the-hair routine and was startled to see it again out of the corner of my eye, the flash of... Yes, you've got it, the flash of flesh. My once-toned upper arm had become a limp, flabby, fluttering, wiggly, jiggly glob of flesh that silently waved with the rhythm of my shoulder. It is all part of getting old they say.
Well, I'm not getting old. My hair may be more white than brown, by neck may be sagging, my eyes failing, my joints aching, and my arms jiggling, but I am not getting old. I am still young-at-heart, eager to learn, quick to listen, and slow to get up (I mean slow to speak). I love sports, music with a beat, and a good sermon. I believe God is supreme, all powerful, a just judge, the lover of my soul, and has a sense of humor. He did create the platypus, didn't he? I know Jesus is my Bread of Life, my Living Water, my All-in-All, and has deep feelings. He cried over Jerusalem, didn't he? And I'll sing "Jesus Loves Me" and "The B I B L E" with the youngest of folks. No, I'm not getting old no matter what they say.
By the way, just who are "They" anyway?
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Fathers' Day
Father's Day brings such a mixture of emotions to my mind. I think of my own dad who turned ninety-two this year. We are alike in many ways, but oh, so very different in others. I think the main reason Dad and I were so close while I was growing up was my love of math and science. I loved spending time with him figuring out how much sand, lime, gravel, and cement would be needed to pour a concrete footing for a retaining wall. Of course that was after we had already calculated the number of cubic yards we needed to fill the forms. Oh yes, we also had to determine how much re- bar we needed, etc., etc. I have so many good memories of designing projects with Dad.
He also taught me to reconcile a bank statement with the check book. To this day, I love the challenge of finding even a two-cent error and correcting it. While designing homes as a way to supplemental his income, he taught me to ink and letter his architectural drawings, but I will admit it was my mom who taught me to check those same plans for places to store the brooms, vacuum cleaners, sheets and towels--things my dad occasionally overlooked.
These life-forming events played a big part in shaping me as a person, but my most favorite memory as a small child is of sitting on the bathroom counter watching Dad shave. He would soak his face with a steaming washcloth, lather up his cheeks with shaving cream from a can, and then (drum roll, please) dab some on my nose to the accompaniment of this little girl's giggles. I loved those morning times with him and sort of wished I could do the same thing someday.
Thank you, Dad, for being my mentor, teaching me life skills, and letting me shave with you in the mornings. You help me become who I am today. Happy Father's Day.
I also think of my own sons on this Father's Day. As I was thinking about what to write today, I was surprised they came to mind before my own dad did. Maybe that is because I spent yesterday with my family celebrating a grandson's college graduation. My grandkids did a lot of joking and kidding about, "Oh, is tomorrow Father's Day?" That's because they have great dads.
My sons played with their kids, took them on hikes, vacations, and camping trips, encouraged their varying interests, participated in school and church events, taught them to pray and to serve, to respect and to work, to save and to tithe, to love and be loved. But above all, they showed their children, by example, what it looks like to love, worship, and serve Jesus Christ; thereby showing them what it means to love God. I am so proud of the God-fearing men they have become, the fathers they are, and the amazing grandchildren with which they have blessed me. Happy Father's Day, boys.
I also want to acknowledge what a wonderful dad my son-in-law is. He, too, is a man of God who teaches his children scripture and the things of God whenever the opportunity arises. His heart is large and his love my daughter and grandchildren is great. I'm thankful for him.
The hardest part of Father's Day for me is acknowledging the positive roll my husband played in the development ofmy our amazing sons. It is hard for me so look past the "error of his ways" to see the good examples he set in so many ways. His love of hiking and camping continues in his sons. His strong belief in returning to God the things that are God's by tithing continues in his sons. His willingness to stop whatever he had planned so he can help someone else continues in his sons. His helping out in the kitchen or with the housework when needed continues in his sons. He was a good dad and a good example. Happy Father's Day, and thank you, Father of our sons.
Now, as I have recognized that fact, I need to once again ask forgiveness for the resentment that arises whenever I think of the destructive behavior he exhibited, the harm he did, and the healing that still needs to take place. I must also be forgiven for my unwillingness to acknowledge him for the good he did and the father he was.
This all brings me around to the Father of all Fathers on this Father's day, the Heavenly Father who teaches how to truly love, serve, accept, care for, help, give, forgive... More than that, he shows by example.
"Lord, forgive me for my resentment and unwillingness. Let me be a more willing student, a faster learner, and a more accurate imitator. Let me sit on your counter and watch you every morning, then go and do what I see you do. Thanks for being my dad. Happy Father's Day, Abba."
He also taught me to reconcile a bank statement with the check book. To this day, I love the challenge of finding even a two-cent error and correcting it. While designing homes as a way to supplemental his income, he taught me to ink and letter his architectural drawings, but I will admit it was my mom who taught me to check those same plans for places to store the brooms, vacuum cleaners, sheets and towels--things my dad occasionally overlooked.
These life-forming events played a big part in shaping me as a person, but my most favorite memory as a small child is of sitting on the bathroom counter watching Dad shave. He would soak his face with a steaming washcloth, lather up his cheeks with shaving cream from a can, and then (drum roll, please) dab some on my nose to the accompaniment of this little girl's giggles. I loved those morning times with him and sort of wished I could do the same thing someday.
Thank you, Dad, for being my mentor, teaching me life skills, and letting me shave with you in the mornings. You help me become who I am today. Happy Father's Day.
I also think of my own sons on this Father's Day. As I was thinking about what to write today, I was surprised they came to mind before my own dad did. Maybe that is because I spent yesterday with my family celebrating a grandson's college graduation. My grandkids did a lot of joking and kidding about, "Oh, is tomorrow Father's Day?" That's because they have great dads.
My sons played with their kids, took them on hikes, vacations, and camping trips, encouraged their varying interests, participated in school and church events, taught them to pray and to serve, to respect and to work, to save and to tithe, to love and be loved. But above all, they showed their children, by example, what it looks like to love, worship, and serve Jesus Christ; thereby showing them what it means to love God. I am so proud of the God-fearing men they have become, the fathers they are, and the amazing grandchildren with which they have blessed me. Happy Father's Day, boys.
I also want to acknowledge what a wonderful dad my son-in-law is. He, too, is a man of God who teaches his children scripture and the things of God whenever the opportunity arises. His heart is large and his love my daughter and grandchildren is great. I'm thankful for him.
The hardest part of Father's Day for me is acknowledging the positive roll my husband played in the development of
Now, as I have recognized that fact, I need to once again ask forgiveness for the resentment that arises whenever I think of the destructive behavior he exhibited, the harm he did, and the healing that still needs to take place. I must also be forgiven for my unwillingness to acknowledge him for the good he did and the father he was.
This all brings me around to the Father of all Fathers on this Father's day, the Heavenly Father who teaches how to truly love, serve, accept, care for, help, give, forgive... More than that, he shows by example.
"Lord, forgive me for my resentment and unwillingness. Let me be a more willing student, a faster learner, and a more accurate imitator. Let me sit on your counter and watch you every morning, then go and do what I see you do. Thanks for being my dad. Happy Father's Day, Abba."
Friday, June 15, 2012
Lesson From My Weed Eater and Windows
I have finished up my morning bowl of oatmeal with raisins and walnuts. The dirty bowl is sitting in the kitchen sink waiting to be washed. I am enjoying my cup of coffee that is sitting on my coffee table while I type. I am delighted with the sunshine and flowers that are brightening up my yard. But... But, in the corner of my entry way, standing where I can clearly see it, drawn up to its full three feet of height, is the weed eater. It is fully charged and ready to go. I know it never demands more that twenty minutes of my time before its battery runs down, but I also know it wears me out, leaving my arms quivering like rubber bands. I am trying vary hard not to make eye contact with it, so I look out the windows instead. Mistake!
Don't ever make eye contact with a dirty window. Just thinking about washing a window makes my shoulders burn and wrists ache. But that window will now haunt me, consume me, and hunt me down until I either leave the room, pull the blinds, or get out the cleaning supplies that are under the sink. No they aren't. Oh yes they are... no.
Now I have to avoid eye contact with both the weed eater and the dirty window. I look away, in another direction, only to find another dirty window staring me in the face. Panic starts to set in. "Look beyond the window" I tell myself, so I do. Oh no!! The grass under the apple tree is growing taller and taller. It needs to be whacked down. No matter which way I look now, I am trapped. HELP!
So here is my plan. It is 10 AM. I will finish my now cold coffee, wash up my oatmeal bowl, pan, spoon and coffee cup, put on my dirty outside-working clothes, take the weed eater out to the garage where I can't see it, take a walk down the road, and hope the sun goes behind the clouds so when I get home I can't see how dirty my windows are.
Just kidding. I will wash up my dishes, put on my work clothes, and take the weed eater out with me to tackle the grass under the apple tree. I will then wash the windows, at least the ones I look through most often. I know my arms will end up like rubber bands, my shoulders and wrists will complain, and I'll go to bed exhausted, but tomorrow I won't have to avoid eye contact with either the weed eater or the windows. I will enjoy their company. That will last at least until I look through different dirt on different windows at different encroaching, out of control grass, on a different day. And so life goes.
Now, take a quantum leap with me. Instead of talking about avoiding eye contact with a weed eating demon that wears you out, have you ever found yourself at the grocery store suddenly standing face-to-face with a person you haven't seen for awhile. This person is a talker who consumes your time even when you tell her you have to go. Just being in her presence wears you out. Suddenly you find yourself thinking, "I wish I hadn't come down this aisle. I should have stayed in Produce. I'm trapped. HELP!" You know what I mean.
I tend to also feel the same way when I end up in a small group discussion with a person who talks the entire time, even when they are reminded to "share the air" so others can talk. They are exhausting to be with, so you wish you had stayed home.
Then there are the times at church that you avoid eye contact with people you really like being around because you don't want to talk to anyone or are in a hurry. You look away or change the direction you're walking, You know what I mean. At least I hope you know what I mean.
Its really not hurting anything to avoid eye contact with a weed eater or dirty window. They don't care if we look at them or not. They don't feel rejected, ignored, or minimized if we walk passed them. People do care, though. Even as I write this, I am realizing I need to embrace the unavoidable, listen while I have the opportunity, smile whether or not I feel like it, make eye contact with God's children, and brighten up someone else's life. It isn't all about me, if you know what I mean.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Community/School Loss
What started as a wispy, gray mist above my head just before bed last night has become a heavy, tear-laden cloud pressing down on me this morning as I sit on my couch and write. I didn't even know the fourteen year old boy the ocean claimed yesterday afternoon. All I know is he and a friend were swimming in the ocean and got caught by the undertow. The friend made it out. He didn't. The Coast Guard is still searching for him.
I can't imagine the grief his family is going through. I pray they have a strong support system, one that will cry with them, talk with them, pray with them, or sit quietly with them; one that will make a good cup of coffee, a pot of soup, or favorite meal. Most of all, though, one who will let them talk, cry, rant, question, remember, and whatever else they need to do to mourn, except of course try to drink or drug the pain away.
I wonder what is going on at school today. This must be the topic of conversation in classrooms, halls, lunchrooms, teacher lounges, bus barns, administrative offices, and playgrounds. Previous teachers are exchanging memories. Former classmates are doing the same. There is probably a bitter-sweet mixture of smiles and tears as groups mingle for support.
And here I am, just sitting, feeling helpless and useless, sad and teary. Silly! I don't even know the boy--not even his name. My strongest thought is "What a senseless, tragic loss of a young life." I do hope other kids will now more fully understand the dangers of the ocean, that it is restless, mighty, dangerous, and sneaky in spite of its beauty, majesty and means of livelihood for our area. I pray they will each in some way come to think as one of my grandchildren did last night, "I will never be able to look at the ocean the same again."
"Oh Lord, help our community make sense of untimely loss. Show us how to reach out once again to a family experiencing tragedy in our small town. Comfort the inconsolable. Give wisdom to counselors, teachers, and pastors. Help your young believers be strong in their witness to friends during this difficult time. Use them to lift you up.
Lord, we have witnessed the power of your sea in a tragic way, but we know that you are much more powerful that any body of water. Let us see your power in our town. Amen
I can't imagine the grief his family is going through. I pray they have a strong support system, one that will cry with them, talk with them, pray with them, or sit quietly with them; one that will make a good cup of coffee, a pot of soup, or favorite meal. Most of all, though, one who will let them talk, cry, rant, question, remember, and whatever else they need to do to mourn, except of course try to drink or drug the pain away.
I wonder what is going on at school today. This must be the topic of conversation in classrooms, halls, lunchrooms, teacher lounges, bus barns, administrative offices, and playgrounds. Previous teachers are exchanging memories. Former classmates are doing the same. There is probably a bitter-sweet mixture of smiles and tears as groups mingle for support.
And here I am, just sitting, feeling helpless and useless, sad and teary. Silly! I don't even know the boy--not even his name. My strongest thought is "What a senseless, tragic loss of a young life." I do hope other kids will now more fully understand the dangers of the ocean, that it is restless, mighty, dangerous, and sneaky in spite of its beauty, majesty and means of livelihood for our area. I pray they will each in some way come to think as one of my grandchildren did last night, "I will never be able to look at the ocean the same again."
"Oh Lord, help our community make sense of untimely loss. Show us how to reach out once again to a family experiencing tragedy in our small town. Comfort the inconsolable. Give wisdom to counselors, teachers, and pastors. Help your young believers be strong in their witness to friends during this difficult time. Use them to lift you up.
Lord, we have witnessed the power of your sea in a tragic way, but we know that you are much more powerful that any body of water. Let us see your power in our town. Amen
Monday, June 11, 2012
Oh, What a Beautiful Day!
For several days now I have wondered what in the world to write. I thought about sharing how I spent this last weekend. I left for my son's home on Thursday evening to attend my grandson's Air Force commissioning on Friday and college graduation on Saturday. I loved the pomp, the excitement, the achievements, the crowds, the good food, and family. The traffic wasn't too bad either, though I must admit I wasn't driving. But the weather Friday was sooooo coooold, frigid actually, but we all survived. I've decided not to write about that
I considered writing about the two books I am presently reading and enjoying. One is The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson and the other is Drawing Near by John Bevere. Both books are challenging, thought provoking, and inspirational. They are challenging me in my faith walk. I've decided not to write about them either.
Maybe I'd write about my inner struggle over a decision I had to make. Well not exactly struggle, but more of a mini-discussion I had with myself. Today is my husband's birthday. I hadn't planned to go see him because I had other commitments for the day. Then, last night, those commitments were removed from my plate and I heaved a sigh of relief. I would have the whole day to myself. So, as you can see, I could make the one hour drive to see my husband if I wanted to. The time was available, but I didn't want to go. I had nothing to tell him, and I had sent him a birthday note. Besides, I have a doctor appointment out of town tomorrow that will take up most of my day. So I decided not to go. I'm staying home today. Was the the right decision? I don't know. I didn't pray about it at all. I just decided to stay home. There is something about the absence of people that I find relaxing and comforting. But I won't write about any of that situation.
So instead of writing about my weekend, my reading material, or my inner conflict, I will write about this morning's color and sounds. I woke up to a blaze of light in my backyard that made my rhododendron glow a hot-pink. The yellow-green of the sun-drenched grass contrasted against the deep green in the shade almost hurt my eyes. "Oh, what a beautiful day!" sang my heart.
I threw on yesterday's clothes and went out for a short walk. I wanted to make mental notes of what I would see and hear of God. I expected to hear the twittering of sparrows, juncos, goldfinches and other small birds as they fed, talked, and marked territorial boundaries. Surprisingly, those sounds were completely absent--so too were the raucous caws of crows and jays. Listening more closely I heard only the sighing of the wind as it passed through the trees.
The world might have been still to my ears, but it shouted to my eyes. Rhodies clad in purples, reds, pinks, yellows and oranges fill the yards along my one-lane road. White daisies, yellow buttercups, orange red-hot pokers, purple lupine and myriad irises danced in contrast. A golden-chain tree stood out against a dark green cedar. Spruce, fir, hemlock, and alder added too many shades of green to count. "Oh, what a beautiful day!"
As I turned to head back home, some starlings flew overhead speaking their unmistakable language. A little farther down the road I heard blackbirds calling from the tall grass. A pair of crows challenged in reply from the droopy-topped hemlock.
God has everything under control this morning. My eyes and ears give praise for the beauty surrounding me. "Oh, what a beautiful day! Thank you, Lord."
I considered writing about the two books I am presently reading and enjoying. One is The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson and the other is Drawing Near by John Bevere. Both books are challenging, thought provoking, and inspirational. They are challenging me in my faith walk. I've decided not to write about them either.
Maybe I'd write about my inner struggle over a decision I had to make. Well not exactly struggle, but more of a mini-discussion I had with myself. Today is my husband's birthday. I hadn't planned to go see him because I had other commitments for the day. Then, last night, those commitments were removed from my plate and I heaved a sigh of relief. I would have the whole day to myself. So, as you can see, I could make the one hour drive to see my husband if I wanted to. The time was available, but I didn't want to go. I had nothing to tell him, and I had sent him a birthday note. Besides, I have a doctor appointment out of town tomorrow that will take up most of my day. So I decided not to go. I'm staying home today. Was the the right decision? I don't know. I didn't pray about it at all. I just decided to stay home. There is something about the absence of people that I find relaxing and comforting. But I won't write about any of that situation.
So instead of writing about my weekend, my reading material, or my inner conflict, I will write about this morning's color and sounds. I woke up to a blaze of light in my backyard that made my rhododendron glow a hot-pink. The yellow-green of the sun-drenched grass contrasted against the deep green in the shade almost hurt my eyes. "Oh, what a beautiful day!" sang my heart.
I threw on yesterday's clothes and went out for a short walk. I wanted to make mental notes of what I would see and hear of God. I expected to hear the twittering of sparrows, juncos, goldfinches and other small birds as they fed, talked, and marked territorial boundaries. Surprisingly, those sounds were completely absent--so too were the raucous caws of crows and jays. Listening more closely I heard only the sighing of the wind as it passed through the trees.
The world might have been still to my ears, but it shouted to my eyes. Rhodies clad in purples, reds, pinks, yellows and oranges fill the yards along my one-lane road. White daisies, yellow buttercups, orange red-hot pokers, purple lupine and myriad irises danced in contrast. A golden-chain tree stood out against a dark green cedar. Spruce, fir, hemlock, and alder added too many shades of green to count. "Oh, what a beautiful day!"
As I turned to head back home, some starlings flew overhead speaking their unmistakable language. A little farther down the road I heard blackbirds calling from the tall grass. A pair of crows challenged in reply from the droopy-topped hemlock.
God has everything under control this morning. My eyes and ears give praise for the beauty surrounding me. "Oh, what a beautiful day! Thank you, Lord."
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Just Like Jesus
My oldest grandson has a busy month ahead of him. First, he will be commissioned into the Air Force, then graduate from college, and lastly, get married. All this happens in a three week-time frame. Talk about life changing experiences!
As I was remembering Nano as a preschooler, this story came to mind.
"Nano, don't run around in your underwear. Go get some clothes on please."
"But Mom, I want to be like Jesus!"
"I don't think Jesus ran around in his underwear. Now go get dressed."
Several minutes later Nano returned with one of his books opened to a picture of Jesus on the cross. Pointing to the cloth wrapped around Christ's loins my grandson quipped, "See, he's in his underwear. I'm just like him."
If only it were that easy. But, I don't think that is what Paul had in mind when he wrote, "Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children..." Ephesians 5:1a
So, Nano, as you go out into the big, wide, world, I pray you still want to being just like Jesus. Just remember to wear more that underwear. Never leave home without wearing the full battle armor only he can supply.
As I was remembering Nano as a preschooler, this story came to mind.
"Nano, don't run around in your underwear. Go get some clothes on please."
"But Mom, I want to be like Jesus!"
"I don't think Jesus ran around in his underwear. Now go get dressed."
Several minutes later Nano returned with one of his books opened to a picture of Jesus on the cross. Pointing to the cloth wrapped around Christ's loins my grandson quipped, "See, he's in his underwear. I'm just like him."
If only it were that easy. But, I don't think that is what Paul had in mind when he wrote, "Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children..." Ephesians 5:1a
So, Nano, as you go out into the big, wide, world, I pray you still want to being just like Jesus. Just remember to wear more that underwear. Never leave home without wearing the full battle armor only he can supply.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
All is Well in My World?
A couple weeks ago I made the decision to discontinue therapy--to graduate so to speak. I had reached the point where I couldn't find much to talk about during my sessions except life in general. Topics of track meets, yard work, Bible study, and family were becoming the norm. I didn't think about my husband very often, and when I did, emotions that used to be stirred up were no longer threatening. I looked forward to seeing friends instead of avoiding them. My daily life no longer seemed strange to me. It had become my new normal. All was well in my world.
Last night was a reminder that I still have obstacles to overcome. The high-school awards banquet celebrating all the spring sports and academic teams was the evening's big event. Why it is called a banquet I'll never figure out. Food consists of cookies and cake with punch and coffee thrown in. It is a Team Dessert, not a Team Banquet, but I'll let the terminology slide for now.
Anyway, I arrived at the banquet about five minutes early, as usual. I looked around for my family members who were not there yet. Two of my grand kids would be getting recognition for both athletics and academics so I knew they would be coming. Other people were arriving, finding friends, claiming tables, chatting with others, and anticipating the upcoming awards. I decided not sit at a table with people I didn't know very well. Besides, my family was coming. So I stood by a pillar, using it for support, and began my wait. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, people began getting food, and still no family came. I thought about sitting at a table by myself, but didn't want to discourage other groups from having a place to sit. I continued standing by the pillar while getting both mad and sad.
I was mad because I thought my family had decided not to attend and had not let me know. Deep down I knew that was not the case. I was mad anyway. I was sad because I felt so lonely in the midst of a room full of people. Sadness made no sense. I knew many of the people there. I had sat with them at sporting events all year. I had visited with them off and on while waiting for the next running event to start. I had cheered for their son's and daughter's victories. But, instead of finding a place to sit, I chose to go wait outside, by myself. I came very close to leaving entirely--poor me, no one was coming.
As I now write this, I have to laugh. How ridiculous.
While waiting outside I heard a ref's whistle blowing from the gym next door. I suddenly remembered there was a basketball game that was going to interfere with the banquet by 1/2 hour or so. That is where one of my families was. My grandson as well as other tracksters and baseball players were just finishing up their game.
We finally made it to the "banquet", got come cookies and punch, and met my other family who had arrived for the awards only, not the food. All was well once more.
I got to see my grand kids get awards for Knowledge Bowl, Math Team, Honor Athlete, Most Improved Athlete, and Most Valuable Athlete. I was proud of my grand kids, but also proud of the whole school. For being so small, we have fantastic scholars and athletes. I was glad I hadn't let my irrational thoughts chase me away. I would have missed so much.
In spite of my temporary set back, which will probably occur again sometime, all is well in my world once again. I thoroughly enjoyed the evening. The biggie will be when I can comfortably attend by myself and sit with those I don't know very well. It's coming.
Last night was a reminder that I still have obstacles to overcome. The high-school awards banquet celebrating all the spring sports and academic teams was the evening's big event. Why it is called a banquet I'll never figure out. Food consists of cookies and cake with punch and coffee thrown in. It is a Team Dessert, not a Team Banquet, but I'll let the terminology slide for now.
Anyway, I arrived at the banquet about five minutes early, as usual. I looked around for my family members who were not there yet. Two of my grand kids would be getting recognition for both athletics and academics so I knew they would be coming. Other people were arriving, finding friends, claiming tables, chatting with others, and anticipating the upcoming awards. I decided not sit at a table with people I didn't know very well. Besides, my family was coming. So I stood by a pillar, using it for support, and began my wait. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, people began getting food, and still no family came. I thought about sitting at a table by myself, but didn't want to discourage other groups from having a place to sit. I continued standing by the pillar while getting both mad and sad.
I was mad because I thought my family had decided not to attend and had not let me know. Deep down I knew that was not the case. I was mad anyway. I was sad because I felt so lonely in the midst of a room full of people. Sadness made no sense. I knew many of the people there. I had sat with them at sporting events all year. I had visited with them off and on while waiting for the next running event to start. I had cheered for their son's and daughter's victories. But, instead of finding a place to sit, I chose to go wait outside, by myself. I came very close to leaving entirely--poor me, no one was coming.
As I now write this, I have to laugh. How ridiculous.
While waiting outside I heard a ref's whistle blowing from the gym next door. I suddenly remembered there was a basketball game that was going to interfere with the banquet by 1/2 hour or so. That is where one of my families was. My grandson as well as other tracksters and baseball players were just finishing up their game.
We finally made it to the "banquet", got come cookies and punch, and met my other family who had arrived for the awards only, not the food. All was well once more.
I got to see my grand kids get awards for Knowledge Bowl, Math Team, Honor Athlete, Most Improved Athlete, and Most Valuable Athlete. I was proud of my grand kids, but also proud of the whole school. For being so small, we have fantastic scholars and athletes. I was glad I hadn't let my irrational thoughts chase me away. I would have missed so much.
In spite of my temporary set back, which will probably occur again sometime, all is well in my world once again. I thoroughly enjoyed the evening. The biggie will be when I can comfortably attend by myself and sit with those I don't know very well. It's coming.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Rot Repair
This morning I didn't plan on starting my blog in this manner, but this is where I am. I want to tell you about my son and a contractor looking at my garage and deciding how much rot was in the siding and the best way to take care of the problem. In our wet weather, wood tends to deteriorate quite easily once it gets wet. That was especially true of my garage siding. It acts as a wick once the water has access to it. We would have to make sure all damp places were replaced. That meant taking out some fairly good sized sections to ensure the rot wouldn't spread like cancer. It made perfect sense to me and had to be done. I could also see $$$ signs going around and around. The funny part is my kids were taking care of the cost. But, it was still going to cost somebody a hunk of money.
Then, like God always does, he turned my thoughts from earthly things to spiritual things. Thoughts of rotten wood changed into thoughts of rotten attitudes and other sinful behaviors like resentments, etc. They all have a tendency to spread and affect all different area of our lives. For example, I was quite upset with a situation involving my husband soon after he went to the county jail. It had nothing to do with his actions. It had to do with the action of a group we considered friends. As a result I started talking negatively about them and questioning their faith. In my eyes, their walk and their talk didn't match up at all. I intentionally avoided them when I spotted them in stores or other public places. I let myself become very judgmental, condescending, and self righteous. My area of spiritual rot was slowly spreading. It needed to be removed, although I wasn't aware of it at the time.
The awareness came during a sermon one Sunday morning. Pastor was preaching from Mark 11:25 "And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins." I knew then and there I had to forgive them, but more importantly, I had to ask forgiveness for the words I had spoken. Although, when spoken, they were the truth as I knew it, they were neither grace giving nor edifying. They were also not coming from a pure heart. They were words of resentment. I knew I needed to ask their forgiveness, but it was going to cost me something, my pride.
So I went, explained the reason for my visit, asked forgiveness, and received it in return. They listened to and heard my heart, and in return I listened to and heard theirs. I soon discovered that my perception of what happened was my perception only, not their intent or reason. We prayed together and parted with new understanding and renewed friendship.
There was still one more thing I had to do. That was ask God's forgiveness and repair work. He was, and is, the master carpenter, the one who removes all the rot that seeks to destroy. He doesn't just put up a patch and make it look like new. He restores completely, but at great cost.
As I stood by my son and watched the cost mount as wood, nails, and siding were added to the materials list, I saw them morph into something all together different--not literally, but in my mind's eye. The wood, nail and siding became a cross and $$$ signs became the life blood of the Carpenter himself. The cost of fixing my rotting garage would be nothing compared to the what it had cost God to repair my rotting heart.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Under Conviction
It all happened soon after I got up Thursday. I was excited that morning because I had an entire day to myself. I could do whatever I wanted. After getting dressed I decided to check out my calendar to make sure there was really nothing going on. "What!!" I exclaimed to the unmade bed." What's this on my calendar? I thought I had the day free." Well, I was wrong. There in black and white were the words, "9 am Clean Sissy's house." Why, oh why did I have to check my calendar?
You see, Sissy was a young member of our church who had been widowed just weeks ago and left with three young children. She had had to move into a smaller house, and the huge house she had left had to be cleaned by June 1st. Some of us ladies were going to do that cleaning for her.
"No Lord, I don't want to drive to town. That will take almost half an hour to go just one way. Then there will be at least 4 hours of work. I'm too tired. I'm too old for this. There will be other ladies there. I think I will cancel out." Those were my thoughts as much as I hate to admit it. Yes, I know I had volunteered, but I wanted to stay home.
"Maybe I'll call the church and tell them I'm not feeling too well." I could have done that, but I didn't because I would be lying. I spent the next half hour trying to figure out some way to get out of my commitment. This is where the Lord started in on me by using scripture I had recently memorized.
"The religion that God our Father accepts and pure and faultless is this: to look after the orphans and the widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." James 1:27
That scripture sent some guilt through me because I really didn't want to give up MY day at home for a day at Sissy's. I tried some more mental gymnastics to get out of going. My heart was definitely in need of cleansing, perhaps more that Sissy's house. I soon discovered that God wasn't going to leave me alone until that happened.
"Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do, and doesn't do it, sins." James 4:17
Ouch! OK, Lord, I get it. It's not about me, but I want it to be about me. I want to stay home.
"In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead." James 2:7
Lord, you know my faith has deeds. Didn't I spend several hours last night helping out with a Christian Youth Ministry event? I should be off the hook on this house cleaning thing, shouldn't I?
"Do not merely listen to the word and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says." James 1:22
Finally, finally I had to claim James 4:7-10. "Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the Devil and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners and purify your hearts you double-minded. Grieve, mourn, and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourself before the Lord, and he will lift you up."
So now, to make a long story short, by the time I arrived at Sissy's, I was no longer resenting the "imposition" on my time. I was looking forward to doing something different with ladies I didn't really know. For five hours, three of us worked and got most of the cleaning done. In the end, we were tired but so glad we were able to bless Sissy in this way. In addition, we were blessed in the process. Oh that I could learn this lesson well.
I know there will be many more times I will have to fight this battle : my will vs God's will. I am so thankful, though, that I have now experienced the power of having God's word committed to memory. The Spirit has so much more ammo to useagainst for me. But. being the child I am, I want to put my fingers in my spiritual ears and say, "Don't talka me". Instead, I must give thanks when scripture comes to mind that blows my lame excuses to smithereens, then do what is right--not what I want.
Now, this very day, I am experiencing the blessings of people giving up their own time to help me. They have other things they could be doing and maybe even prefer to be doing, but they are here. My family is mowing my yard because my mower is broken. It is no easy task because my grass is a couple feet tall and it takes a riding mower to conquer the acreage. They have purchased material for some repair work on my garage that needs to be done before it can be painted. They have made arrangements for someone to do the repair work. And the Lord has provided a beautiful sunny day for us.
Now that I have said all that, another scripture comes to mind. "But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it--he will be blessed in what he does." James 1:25
Lord, may I not forget what I hear in your perfect law, but may I do it. Amen.
You see, Sissy was a young member of our church who had been widowed just weeks ago and left with three young children. She had had to move into a smaller house, and the huge house she had left had to be cleaned by June 1st. Some of us ladies were going to do that cleaning for her.
"No Lord, I don't want to drive to town. That will take almost half an hour to go just one way. Then there will be at least 4 hours of work. I'm too tired. I'm too old for this. There will be other ladies there. I think I will cancel out." Those were my thoughts as much as I hate to admit it. Yes, I know I had volunteered, but I wanted to stay home.
"Maybe I'll call the church and tell them I'm not feeling too well." I could have done that, but I didn't because I would be lying. I spent the next half hour trying to figure out some way to get out of my commitment. This is where the Lord started in on me by using scripture I had recently memorized.
"The religion that God our Father accepts and pure and faultless is this: to look after the orphans and the widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." James 1:27
That scripture sent some guilt through me because I really didn't want to give up MY day at home for a day at Sissy's. I tried some more mental gymnastics to get out of going. My heart was definitely in need of cleansing, perhaps more that Sissy's house. I soon discovered that God wasn't going to leave me alone until that happened.
"Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do, and doesn't do it, sins." James 4:17
Ouch! OK, Lord, I get it. It's not about me, but I want it to be about me. I want to stay home.
"In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead." James 2:7
Lord, you know my faith has deeds. Didn't I spend several hours last night helping out with a Christian Youth Ministry event? I should be off the hook on this house cleaning thing, shouldn't I?
"Do not merely listen to the word and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says." James 1:22
Finally, finally I had to claim James 4:7-10. "Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the Devil and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners and purify your hearts you double-minded. Grieve, mourn, and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourself before the Lord, and he will lift you up."
So now, to make a long story short, by the time I arrived at Sissy's, I was no longer resenting the "imposition" on my time. I was looking forward to doing something different with ladies I didn't really know. For five hours, three of us worked and got most of the cleaning done. In the end, we were tired but so glad we were able to bless Sissy in this way. In addition, we were blessed in the process. Oh that I could learn this lesson well.
I know there will be many more times I will have to fight this battle : my will vs God's will. I am so thankful, though, that I have now experienced the power of having God's word committed to memory. The Spirit has so much more ammo to use
Now, this very day, I am experiencing the blessings of people giving up their own time to help me. They have other things they could be doing and maybe even prefer to be doing, but they are here. My family is mowing my yard because my mower is broken. It is no easy task because my grass is a couple feet tall and it takes a riding mower to conquer the acreage. They have purchased material for some repair work on my garage that needs to be done before it can be painted. They have made arrangements for someone to do the repair work. And the Lord has provided a beautiful sunny day for us.
Now that I have said all that, another scripture comes to mind. "But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it--he will be blessed in what he does." James 1:25
Lord, may I not forget what I hear in your perfect law, but may I do it. Amen.
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