“Your sweet little old gray-haired mother.” That’s how she always signed her cards and letters to me. She could well have said “Your sassy, feisty, outspoken, witty little old gray-haired mother.” She died at 83 on October 31, 2003, Halloween. Even in that she got the last laugh. I can just hear her, “Try to forget me now!”
This woman who so influenced my life bore the name of Christian with tenacity, pride and boldness. In her last three years, she became more frail and less able to get out and spend time with people. She had to use a portable oxygen supply. She was greatest grieved by the fact that she could no longer witness. She said she told God He would just have to bring them to her door – and He did! An electrical installer, a county worker – no one would be leaving without hearing the Good News of Jesus Christ. Turns out, in both of those cases, God had brought them to her door for that specific purpose. She left instructions that the occasion of her memorial service be used to give the plan of salvation one more time – her “last chance.”
At 69, she took a home mission assignment to go to the inner city in Buffalo, New York. Loaded up her car, didn’t know a soul, didn’t have a place to live, just trusted God. She served there for six months and rejoiced in it for the rest of her life.
Mother went to early Sunday School. After it was over, she’d run outside and stand in the handicapped parking spot to save it for her sister, who didn’t need it. Supposedly my mom did because she rode home with her and had the oxygen. Frankly I can’t see it. She could almost outrun me.
One day I called her and she sounded very tired. I hung up and worried a bit. So I called her back and asked about it. This is what she said. “A person can’t sound tired? Don’t you worry about me. I still have a lot to do. I still have my list of old ladies I visit." She was 81.
She had a mild heart attack. When the ambulance got to her house, there she sat on her front porch swing with her purse in her lap waiting for them. I went home to Arkansas and sat with her in the hospital and helped her check out and get all her medications. Then we went to Cracker Barrel with my aunt and cousins for dinner.
She was completely comfortable talking about her death. She used to say, “To tell you the truth, I’m a little excited about it.” Do you know what that excitement was? That was the joy of her salvation. When she died, we had a brief graveside service that was a true celebration of thanksgiving for having had her zesty sense of humor and her in-your-face honesty.
The warm November day was full of sunshine and the wind that she loved so tugged at the few remaining leaves on the trees around us. Stories that she wouldn’t allow to be told while she was still with us were shared of her giving to others. My husband and children were with me and we had the closeness that only those intense occasions in life bring. Friends I hadn’t seen in over thirty years were there to lend support. Funerals for successful world-centered citizens are dignified and sad; graveside services for poor God-centered “gray-haired little old ladies” are pure joy.
I realize I’m getting on in years myself. Not only do I no longer understand commercials, most times, I don’t even know what they were for! Pop culture references are lost on me. I watch American Idol and marvel that many of the songs they perform are completely new to me. My grandson had to repeat who he was going to be for Halloween three times and then I had to look him up on the internet to see who he was.
My kids say, “What’s up with her anyway? She doesn’t like to do anything anymore but listen to the birds, talk about God and read the Bible. What’s wrong?” Nothing’s wrong. I'm filled with peace and "I'm a happy soul." I’ve turned into Zelma T.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Be Sweet
It was the mantra of every southern mom, shouted to teenaged daughters on their way out the door. “Be sweet!” It meant so much more – “Remember who you are”, “I’m watching you”, “Don’t get in the car with someone you don’t know.”
And thus encouraged, I slammed the door and ran toward the waiting car with instructions to be the very thing I saw as the kiss of death. As adjectives went, “sweet” and “cute” lurked at the very bottom of my list of desirables. Yet those two words were the ones most often thrown at me and caught like Velcro on the sleeves of my baby blue mohair sweater.
Cute. I longed to bask in words like beautiful, desirable, sexy, foxy (it was the late sixties after all). I had no hope of achieving anything remotely like the patina of poise and polish that surrounded Cheryl Tiegs as she stared out at me from the pages of my Seventeen magazine.
But cute I could live with. Sweet was dull, boring. I had no hope of “dangerous”, no chance at “mysterious”. Why did I rebel against it so? It was the one word that my friends would have used to describe me. Yet it was a word reserved for last ditch efforts at promoting blind dates. It stank of mundane routine, no room for excitement or risk.
Risk looks a lot more promising on that side of twenty than this side of sixty. So now would “sweet” be the term that applies? I am more likely to be called headstrong, opinionated, eccentric (a personal favorite), or intense. Any of those are pleasing to me. I have become someone I rather like.
But I need sweet too. Because my faith is important to me and I want that to show. I looked it up. “Sweet” appears in the NIV twenty-five times and is used to describe water, fruit, drinks, evil, soil, fellowship, words, sleep, longing, honey, wisdom, light, a voice and a scroll. The word itself is not used to describe a righteous, faithful person.
So why have I reversed myself and taken that characteristic as a personal goal? Still a word we use to describe someone who is pleasant to be around, dear, and gracious – someone with whom I would want to spend time – it is more than that. Sweetness indicates a certain generosity of spirit, faithfulness as friend, and a compassion and concern.
Jesus said it in Matthew 19:19, “…love your neighbor as yourself.” Be sweet.
And thus encouraged, I slammed the door and ran toward the waiting car with instructions to be the very thing I saw as the kiss of death. As adjectives went, “sweet” and “cute” lurked at the very bottom of my list of desirables. Yet those two words were the ones most often thrown at me and caught like Velcro on the sleeves of my baby blue mohair sweater.
Cute. I longed to bask in words like beautiful, desirable, sexy, foxy (it was the late sixties after all). I had no hope of achieving anything remotely like the patina of poise and polish that surrounded Cheryl Tiegs as she stared out at me from the pages of my Seventeen magazine.
But cute I could live with. Sweet was dull, boring. I had no hope of “dangerous”, no chance at “mysterious”. Why did I rebel against it so? It was the one word that my friends would have used to describe me. Yet it was a word reserved for last ditch efforts at promoting blind dates. It stank of mundane routine, no room for excitement or risk.
Risk looks a lot more promising on that side of twenty than this side of sixty. So now would “sweet” be the term that applies? I am more likely to be called headstrong, opinionated, eccentric (a personal favorite), or intense. Any of those are pleasing to me. I have become someone I rather like.
But I need sweet too. Because my faith is important to me and I want that to show. I looked it up. “Sweet” appears in the NIV twenty-five times and is used to describe water, fruit, drinks, evil, soil, fellowship, words, sleep, longing, honey, wisdom, light, a voice and a scroll. The word itself is not used to describe a righteous, faithful person.
So why have I reversed myself and taken that characteristic as a personal goal? Still a word we use to describe someone who is pleasant to be around, dear, and gracious – someone with whom I would want to spend time – it is more than that. Sweetness indicates a certain generosity of spirit, faithfulness as friend, and a compassion and concern.
Jesus said it in Matthew 19:19, “…love your neighbor as yourself.” Be sweet.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Coming Home
I have tried mentally to write this blog for three days now. I am feeling a responsibility to honor a couple who have gone through a trial with grace and an unfailing witness to the joy they have in Jesus. I am also feeling a need to give a nod to my new community and – at long last I can say it – my new home.
Bob and Sue. We had met them when we came down to visit as nonresidents. But we began to really know them after we moved here in April. Steve had golfed with Bob, who was diagnosed with cancer about three years ago and given only months to live. God had other ideas.
Sue leads the community Bible study I have become a part of. I watched her over the past several months, and then weeks, respond to the demands of illness and the loss of a life partner with courage, absolutely, but so much more than that. Her ever-present smile is genuine, yet she has been open about the ordeal – her frustrations and her failings. She has carried her burden with grace and eyes always on God, intent on giving Him glory.
Bob passed on Wednesday, October 14, 2009 and this community will miss his good humor, “sweet golf swing”, strong faith and, above all, his gentle spirit. Sue will mourn him in her time and in her way, but for now, there’s that smile, reminding us all she really believes it when someone says to her, “He’s in a better place.”
Today as I watched the Baptist church fill while waiting for the memorial service to begin, I realized how many faces I knew. And still they came, filling all the seats, the choir loft and folding chairs that were added. I saw faces I had casually met, friendly faces, open and encouraging faces. And I was struck by how many faces I saw of people I love. And I realized I saw friends, honest-to-goodness friends who would be there for me, as they were for Bob and Sue.
Wyboo is a unique community. Sheltered from the “real world” by distance from town, the location is an idyllic setting on a South Carolina lake. There is fishing and golf, as well as a short driving distance to the familiar vacation spots: Hilton Head, Charleston, Savannah, and Myrtle Beach. I should have been excited to come.
Three years ago when we decided this would be our retirement home, I was prepared to leave Virginia kicking and screaming. God knew this. He knew I needed time and He gave me two years. When He finally said, “It’s time,” He said so with circumstances that could not be any clearer.
I have struggled some, of course. I miss my family and my former church. But to be honest, it’s hard to be unhappy around these people! It is a community where folks could easily be “all about me.” I have found it to be at the other end of the spectrum entirely. These people really care about one another and about the community outside the gates. This is not lip service. There have been more instances than I can relate of honest-to-goodness sacrifice for others – the kind that requires time and getting off your bottom and working for someone.
So I sat in the little church, listening to a mournful, yet beautiful Amazing Grace from the bagpipe, and I felt closed in by community. I belong to these giving, caring people. I was surrounded by friendly faces that will go into the rest of these years with Steve and me. They will love us and support us and we will do the same for them. I am home.
Bob and Sue. We had met them when we came down to visit as nonresidents. But we began to really know them after we moved here in April. Steve had golfed with Bob, who was diagnosed with cancer about three years ago and given only months to live. God had other ideas.
Sue leads the community Bible study I have become a part of. I watched her over the past several months, and then weeks, respond to the demands of illness and the loss of a life partner with courage, absolutely, but so much more than that. Her ever-present smile is genuine, yet she has been open about the ordeal – her frustrations and her failings. She has carried her burden with grace and eyes always on God, intent on giving Him glory.
Bob passed on Wednesday, October 14, 2009 and this community will miss his good humor, “sweet golf swing”, strong faith and, above all, his gentle spirit. Sue will mourn him in her time and in her way, but for now, there’s that smile, reminding us all she really believes it when someone says to her, “He’s in a better place.”
Today as I watched the Baptist church fill while waiting for the memorial service to begin, I realized how many faces I knew. And still they came, filling all the seats, the choir loft and folding chairs that were added. I saw faces I had casually met, friendly faces, open and encouraging faces. And I was struck by how many faces I saw of people I love. And I realized I saw friends, honest-to-goodness friends who would be there for me, as they were for Bob and Sue.
Wyboo is a unique community. Sheltered from the “real world” by distance from town, the location is an idyllic setting on a South Carolina lake. There is fishing and golf, as well as a short driving distance to the familiar vacation spots: Hilton Head, Charleston, Savannah, and Myrtle Beach. I should have been excited to come.
Three years ago when we decided this would be our retirement home, I was prepared to leave Virginia kicking and screaming. God knew this. He knew I needed time and He gave me two years. When He finally said, “It’s time,” He said so with circumstances that could not be any clearer.
I have struggled some, of course. I miss my family and my former church. But to be honest, it’s hard to be unhappy around these people! It is a community where folks could easily be “all about me.” I have found it to be at the other end of the spectrum entirely. These people really care about one another and about the community outside the gates. This is not lip service. There have been more instances than I can relate of honest-to-goodness sacrifice for others – the kind that requires time and getting off your bottom and working for someone.
So I sat in the little church, listening to a mournful, yet beautiful Amazing Grace from the bagpipe, and I felt closed in by community. I belong to these giving, caring people. I was surrounded by friendly faces that will go into the rest of these years with Steve and me. They will love us and support us and we will do the same for them. I am home.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Steeped in God's Goodness
I have discovered Rosamunde Pilcher. I should probably say rediscovered because “Winter Solstice” is just about my favorite novel and I’ve read it more than once. I found such pleasure in that one that I read “September” and enjoyed it enough to pick up “Coming Home”.
That one is a little daunting at almost 1,000 pages. It owes its length to character development and long descriptive passages. Not a lot of "on camera" action here but wonderful everyday life. And, though I’m not always a fan of long descriptive passages, I love hers because she describes Cornwall and Scotland and there always seems to be lots of “weather” going on. Beautiful sea vistas, craggy cliffs and lots of wind and rain.
Because Pilcher’s characters are British, tea is the answer for everything. It is a cure-all, pick-me-up, and everyday part of every life, whether working class or aristocracy. And it struck me that it’s a fitting parallel for what our time with God offers.
It is restorative. Time after time characters that are weak, upset, depressed, or tired are given cups of strong, hot tea that calms nerves, gives hope and enables them to see more clearly. “He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul….” (Psalm 23: 2, 3b)
It is always available. None of these characters’ households would ever be found lacking in tea. It is a necessary part of life. “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22, 23)
It is a scheduled part of life. These people count on and look forward to the rituals of their teatime. It is a part of life that is not neglected. “Blessed is the man who listens to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway.” (Proverbs 8:34)
It is often extravagant and abundant. I love reading the descriptions of the little sandwiches and cakes that come with the afternoon tea serving. It is something to be looked forward to and anticipated daily. Our God is also extravagant in the ways He reveals Himself and speaks to us. “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” (Revelation 3:20)
That one is a little daunting at almost 1,000 pages. It owes its length to character development and long descriptive passages. Not a lot of "on camera" action here but wonderful everyday life. And, though I’m not always a fan of long descriptive passages, I love hers because she describes Cornwall and Scotland and there always seems to be lots of “weather” going on. Beautiful sea vistas, craggy cliffs and lots of wind and rain.
Because Pilcher’s characters are British, tea is the answer for everything. It is a cure-all, pick-me-up, and everyday part of every life, whether working class or aristocracy. And it struck me that it’s a fitting parallel for what our time with God offers.
It is restorative. Time after time characters that are weak, upset, depressed, or tired are given cups of strong, hot tea that calms nerves, gives hope and enables them to see more clearly. “He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul….” (Psalm 23: 2, 3b)
It is always available. None of these characters’ households would ever be found lacking in tea. It is a necessary part of life. “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22, 23)
It is a scheduled part of life. These people count on and look forward to the rituals of their teatime. It is a part of life that is not neglected. “Blessed is the man who listens to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway.” (Proverbs 8:34)
It is often extravagant and abundant. I love reading the descriptions of the little sandwiches and cakes that come with the afternoon tea serving. It is something to be looked forward to and anticipated daily. Our God is also extravagant in the ways He reveals Himself and speaks to us. “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” (Revelation 3:20)
Monday, October 5, 2009
Jesus, Bring the Rain
Mercy Me sings the lyrics; that wonderful song reflects the beauty of living a life that has Jesus at its center, regardless of the circumstances. It also echoes conventional wisdom that rain can represent the dark times in life, e.g. save for a rainy day.
Let me just say it up front and we’ll get it out of the way. My brain is wired a little differently. I prefer eccentric; some would say weird. Bring out the cool, gray day with a steady rain and I am gleeful, bundled up and rocking on the back porch. Add in some wind or lightening for effect and I’ll positively dance – especially if the lightening gets too close.
That’s where I am this morning. The rain is falling at a steady pace, quickening just enough to give the sound some interest, sort of like waves at the ocean. The day has a cool edge so that I’m wearing snuggly, comfortable clothes and still considering putting on another layer. The wind is blowing enough to add to the sound, but not enough to drive me inside for a coat.
God is blessing me this morning. He knows how I love this. Don’t get me wrong; this is not arrogance. I’m not foolish enough to think He’s doing it just for me, but I know that He is aware that I do love it so.
Rain is important to us in South Carolina because we have been, off and on during the last couple of years, in a drought situation. Not only do our plants need it, but the lake as well. The water level has been rising and falling dramatically and this rain will help.
And as I rocked and listened, Steve walked out and said, “This is good. The plants need it and you do too, right?” And I realized that, just as this rain is providing nourishment for every living green thing, it feeds me as well. It blesses me and makes me content and thankful. God speaks to me so many times through nature and weather; this day draws me closer to Him. Jesus, bring the rain!
Psalm 147:7, 8, 11
Sing to the LORD with thanksgiving; make music to our God on the harp. He covers the sky with clouds; he supplies the earth with rain and makes grass grow on the hills…the LORD delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.
Let me just say it up front and we’ll get it out of the way. My brain is wired a little differently. I prefer eccentric; some would say weird. Bring out the cool, gray day with a steady rain and I am gleeful, bundled up and rocking on the back porch. Add in some wind or lightening for effect and I’ll positively dance – especially if the lightening gets too close.
That’s where I am this morning. The rain is falling at a steady pace, quickening just enough to give the sound some interest, sort of like waves at the ocean. The day has a cool edge so that I’m wearing snuggly, comfortable clothes and still considering putting on another layer. The wind is blowing enough to add to the sound, but not enough to drive me inside for a coat.
God is blessing me this morning. He knows how I love this. Don’t get me wrong; this is not arrogance. I’m not foolish enough to think He’s doing it just for me, but I know that He is aware that I do love it so.
Rain is important to us in South Carolina because we have been, off and on during the last couple of years, in a drought situation. Not only do our plants need it, but the lake as well. The water level has been rising and falling dramatically and this rain will help.
And as I rocked and listened, Steve walked out and said, “This is good. The plants need it and you do too, right?” And I realized that, just as this rain is providing nourishment for every living green thing, it feeds me as well. It blesses me and makes me content and thankful. God speaks to me so many times through nature and weather; this day draws me closer to Him. Jesus, bring the rain!
Psalm 147:7, 8, 11
Sing to the LORD with thanksgiving; make music to our God on the harp. He covers the sky with clouds; he supplies the earth with rain and makes grass grow on the hills…the LORD delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Round Two from Adventureland
The wildlife is restless this morning. The mullet are, no doubt, having some kinds of athletic games going on – I never heard so much splashing. They make me laugh, the silliest and most fun fish of all. And Steve, so patient, stood for a really long time trying to get a picture for me. What he ended up with is the fish from a weird perspective – you can barely see him above the water. But the picture definitely tells the story: the rings left in the water are his footprints, like a big stone being skipped across.
In the middle of all the shrieking, calling and splashing, we heard a strange “thwack, thwack.” What on earth? There is an old dead tree at the edge of the lake just down from our balcony. A big black cormorant sits there for hours every morning and afternoon. His special spot.
This morning a great blue heron decided it looked appealing. After much posturing and attempted size-intimidation by the heron,
the two decided to have a go at it, beak to beak. Very noisy and exciting. We watched for a good little while, snapping pictures and praying that the camera battery would hold. Finally they managed an uneasy truce with neither of them in total relaxation mode.
Suddenly from just above our heads another heron swept down upon the tree and the two of them flew off across the lagoon. It was majestic and breath-taking. And I was struck that if we had just stopped and looked around a bit, we would have snapped an incredible picture of the heron just above us in the tree.
Meanwhile, the cormorant smoothed out his ruffled feathers, looked around to see if anyone was watching and settled in for his nap.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
