There Is a Name

I dread trips to the dentist. I avoid them avidly. Not very adult, I know, but I figure I’ve lived long enough to be childish about some things even when my common sense tells me how foolish I am.

So when I sat down to my annual pre-Easter jelly bean buffet (all right, so one bag does not a buffet make, but I did some damage), and came up with a hole in the front of my mouth where my crown had been, I felt like I had been chastised. Since giving up laughter and big wide smiles is not an option, I made a dental appointment.

I have an unhealthy and almost paranoid fear of the dentist. I know why but that’s another story that you don’t really need or want to hear. I found a dentist in northern Virginia that was kind and understanding. I swore I would continue to make the seven hour drive so that he could go on treating me.

Not entirely practical, I realize now. (See above paragraph on gaping hole in mouth.) Steve had visited a dental clinic in Sumter and, because he is a patient, we assumed they would give me an immediate appointment as a new patient as well, which they did.

So I drove over today, heart fluttering. As I sat in the waiting room with my crown in my purse, I became aware of the Newsboys singing “In the Hand of God” and I began to smile. How cool was it that my dentist played contemporary Christian music! I relaxed a bit and, being the only one in the waiting room, felt free to wander and look at the intriguing pictures on the walls. There were children there – all ages and nationalities and all smiling. Then I noticed that some of them had scriptures on the pictures. My smile got almost wide enough to show the gap in my teeth!

My name was called and I was led into a treatment room where I faced a large picture of three beautiful dark-eyed boys grinning at the camera and holding up toothbrushes and toothpaste. When the dental hygienist came in, I asked her if one of the dentists in the clinic goes on mission trips. She told me all three do!

And I relaxed completely. I knew that I was in safe and, more important, compassionate hands. Because when we’re with believers, chances are high that we will find comfort in common ground. Not that we don’t disagree. Not that we don’t make mistakes and mistreat one another. But bottom line, I’m going to trust a group of believers because I know where they stand.

And for the second time this week, the name of Jesus gave me a sense of peace. The other morning, I was rushing around – picking up the house and getting ready to run errands. And I wasn’t paying close enough attention to where my thoughts were wandering. And I began to pick up little bits of worry, stress, resentment – chaos. I pulled my thoughts in check and was on the way to telling myself that I needed to stop and pray.

Somewhere in that argument with myself, I said the name of God. And simply saying the name, the very name, made me calm.

Psalm 124:8; Proverbs 18:10; Joel 2:32
Our help is in the name of the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth…The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe…And everyone who calls on the name of the LORD will be saved….

Just Waking Up

It all came together yesterday and I was breathing – alive – again. The day was warm; the sun was shining. In northern Virginia where I lived until last April, it would have been just a fluke – a strange, frustrating promise of warmer weather somewhere off on the snowy horizon. But here in South Carolina, it might possibly have just been the first day of spring! Not the official meteorologists’ date, but my own, everything-is-waking-up day.

Steve and I took the boat out for the first time since November and we cruised up and down the lake at a pace slow enough that the wind didn’t even blow my hair. The entire population of lake birds was up and out – screeching, squawking, and praising God in general.

I saw cormorants swimming along and diving under for fish and then the bump, bump, bump across the water as their tail feathers dip in a few times before they’re airborne. I watched gulls diving for fish and shivered at water that must still be under 55 degrees. I caught my breath and realized that I felt alive, really deep-breathing, life-appreciating alive for the first time in a while.

For an instant I understood those descriptions in books where people with an illness have been given a second chance at life; and they go running out of the doctor's office, seeing and hearing for the first time. And yet in the very next breath, I was down, emotion-wise, in the bottom of the boat. And I thought, is this what it takes? Do I have to be retired, with a boat and no responsibility (for today anyway), lovely weather and birds singing for all to be right with the world? For me to be truly, gut-level happy? Even that’s not it. For to me to be ALIVE, feeling every breath and appreciating it.

Of course the answer is no. There have been plenty of times in my life when it was good and I was grateful while still carrying a load of responsibility, stress and debt. I’ve heard it said that we don’t do nearly as much growing spiritually in the good, mountaintop times as we do during the times of need and complete dependence on God. And so there have also been times when I was on my knees in complete pain but also feeling utterly alive.

So why have I been numbed by life lately? Has my real self, the part of me that enjoys every day that God gives me on this earth, been drifting quietly like our boat tied up all those weeks? And the answer is, as always, my lack was my doing. After Christmas, I decided that God was telling me to back off responsibility a little and, in my usual self-indulgent way, I said, “Great! Put away your Bible and pull out the computer solitaire! Better yet, completely invest yourself in Facebook and cards with friends.”

All right. I exaggerate. But in truth I did quietly tiptoe away from my blessed time with God everyday. I said hello to Him occasionally and did enough Bible study so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed at my study group. But my daily time that He and I so look forward to, my time just getting into His Word and reading for the joy of it was lost.

And it’s funny. The first day or two felt strange, like something was missing. But it got easier and there was always something to pull at me, to claim my time. And the layers of film began to fall over my eyes and ears and around my heart. Finally about 3 days ago, I said, “Enough!” And I went back to my Father who had been waiting patiently. I talked to Him about it, about all of it.

So it wasn’t the sun or the warm weather. It wasn’t the lapping of waves against the side of the boat. The pure joy of being back in the hand of my God awakened my senses and quickened my breath. No, I never really left. I just forgot where I belonged.

Psalm 150:6
Let everything that has breath praise the LORD. Praise the LORD.

All Things Are Possible

A week of weather miracles. Those in Virginia don’t consider the lined up and back-to-back blizzards anything but frustration at this point. But this is my second snow blog in a week’s time. And the amazing thing is that the second storm occurred in South Carolina – snow on Wyboo! Who would have believed it?

And the total amazement, the jaw-dropping disbelief is the point. I had been home only 5 days after traveling to northern Virginia to experience the February 5th blizzard. I knew full-well, or at least assumed, that I would never see snow in South Carolina. I miss my snow!

So as the week wore on, the forecast started with a slim possibility of snow, snow showers, a winter weather watch mid-week and a winter weather warning on Thursday. And I began to believe.

I am not arrogant enough to believe that God would send snow all the way across the south just to delight me. But I do know that He is willing to teach me lessons through His amazing ways.

And if it can snow at Wyboo, anything can happen. Can I find out His will and purpose for my life? Yes. Can He use this community to accomplish mighty works? Absolutely. Am I overreacting here? I don’t think so. Because in the day-to-day process of living out life’s little boring and taxing details, we begin to doubt that miracles exist. Even if we believe God is capable of enacting wonders, we deep down just don’t trust that He will.

So I jumped around and I whooped. I went riding in the golf cart and took pictures in the dark. The snow was great. But my God was showing me that He is in control, He is sovereign, and He can and will do what He pleases according to His purposes. And because good is in His design for me, I can’t wait to see what’s next!

Matthew 19:26; Romans 8:28
Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible”…And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Today My Favorite (Lack of) Color Is White

My stomach flipflops and my heart, while not pounding, does beat a little more quickly. A bit of panic underlies my state of complete excitement. Logic has flown out the window. Snow is on the way.

At this moment northern Virginia is my favorite place on earth. I have followed the snow and I’m so glad I did. I waffled on that decision for about 36 hours. It seemed somehow too self-indulgent to drive almost seven hours just to see snow. I was naturally coming to see the grandkids as well but I would only see them for Thursday night.

But then the rationalizing portion of my brain kicked in and I remembered a couple of things. I’m retired! And retirement exists for just this kind of thing. Plus this is not just an ordinary fluffy three inch snow. This is a storm! A monster! December 19th, the last big snow, was not only too close to Christmas but also it was Steve’s and my anniversary and I could hardly leave him then. And besides, Steve’s actually driving toward snow is never going to happen.

So I became a storm chaser.

And in the process I remembered why I so love snow in northern Virginia. Last night Cory and the kids took me out for pho, our favorite cold-weather food. Warms the soul.

Then we stopped by Safeway for, yeah, milk and bread. (I guess Cory was stocked up on toilet paper.) We walked and walked toward the store – no parking close last night – and stared at the empty space where the carts usually are. Cory said they must have moved them inside out of the weather. You know the answer to that one.

So we grabbed a small carry basket and plunged into the crowd. My smile grew as I looked around at the frantic shoppers and empty bread shelves. We made our way back to the dairy case and a small woman looked at Cory with panic in her eyes. “Can you please help me?” There were only three containers of milk left and they sat at the back of the shelves. The kids and I exchanged amazed looks as he pretty much crawled into the milk freezer.

Then this morning, I realized that I did not actually have enough food for the next six weeks. Because here, standing in the aisle at Giant, is where logic flies out the window. Somehow, never mind the Super Bowl, whole other issue, I must be stocked up for weeks. Look me in the eye and tell me that, at the most, I will be housebound for 3, 4 days at the extreme. I’m not hearing you.

Every person who lives in northern Virginia believes, really believes at this point, that we’ll be blessed to make it to church on Easter morning. Doesn’t really matter whether 2 inches or 2 feet of snow are on the way.

So I shopped for rotisserie chicken, cheese, stuff to make beef enchiladas, cold cuts, rolls, chips and salsa. And I jostled my way along with the rest of the grinning idiots who swear they don’t like snow, but aren’t we all smiling big? It’s a party in every home. For the first six hours and 3 changes of snow clothes anyway.

By Saturday afternoon, the interesting food will have been eaten; the kids will be tired of playing outside; the walls will seem a little too close. But I’ll be fine with it. Because on Monday morning, I’ll get in my car and drive back to sweet, sunny South Carolina.

The Sewing Cabinet

It sat for weeks in my garage, collecting dust. I couldn't let it go but I wasn't sure where to put it. My mother’s sewing cabinet. When someone dear dies, those possessions they leave behind become precious. My mom was a person of very few belongings. She lived on very little income. This was her choice and I respected her for it.

What money and things she received usually passed straight through her hands into someone else’s. She put Matthew 6:19-21, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also”, into daily practice.

One of the things I most treasure of hers is the old sewing cabinet. It’s not a priceless antique and it’s a fairly simple looking piece of furniture. And some of you will think my memories that are associated with it are morbid. You see, it’s where she kept all her last instructions for me – life insurance, memorial service details, paperwork. And each time I went home, we would go to the little desk and she would pull out the drawers and show me where everything was.

My mom and I had viewed her death as just one more long trip. We believe this life on earth is the journey and at the end we are returning home. She was excited about it and I was able to be as well because I knew it represented complete freedom from pain, peace and joy and reunion for her.

Also, my dad died when I was twenty and I am an only child. So all those details she worked out were her way of protecting me as much as she could. She didn’t want me to have to deal with them after she was gone and I was grateful for that.

But there was something else. Last night I was sitting on the porch trying to figure out why the little chest meant so much. Then I remembered the year it came.

We were not wealthy by any means but we always had enough and Christmas was always an exciting time at my house because my Daddy would spring little surprises on us. I would climb into the back seat of the car to go to Sunday School and there would be a box of Christmas chocolates. One year he bought little iced cakes decorated with sugar holly and candles from the bakery just for fun. We would drive to the country and fill the car with holly and mistletoe.

I was about five years old the year the truck pulled up in front of the house and delivered the package. It seemed huge to me and, thinking back, it must have been at least six or seven feet tall. I was beside myself to know what was in it. I knew it was for Mother and it sat in our kitchen, the only room that would hold it. For days we stared at it, trying to guess.

I pleaded with Daddy to tell me what was in it. And guess what – he did! He impressed upon me the need to keep the secret, but he told me it was a sewing machine in a refrigerator box. I felt so important, sharing this confidence.

Thinking back now, I am so humbled by that trust. It had to have been a very dear and expensive gift for him to give. And the surprise must have been so important to him. And yet he trusted me with it. And I kept it. And it further cemented the degree of love and trust between the two of us.

So now, the little cabinet sits on my porch, a reminder of the love, the Christmas memories and the trust.

The Greatest Question

I make such a simple thing so very hard! It’s at once the hardest question in the universe and the easiest to answer – the hardest to accomplish and the easiest to fail. The basis of many scenes in movies, punch lines in jokes and subjects of cartoons:

What is the meaning of life? Why are we here?

People would say that if I know the answer to that question I could be a rich woman. Oh that it were so! Because I do know the answer. As believers, we all do. However, it often does no good to give it because, unless the Holy Spirit is speaking, a non-believer’s ears are closed and eyes are blind. (Matthew 13:13, “…though seeing, they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear or understand.")

Let’s look at the answer for a moment though. Why hard and easy at the same time? We are here for one thing – simply to have a relationship with God, to love Him and be loved by Him. But what about glorifying Him, what about telling others, what about (and here’s the tricky part) good works?

If we love, really love our God and Father; if our desire is to know Him better through prayer and His Word; if our eye is on the prize of becoming more and more like Jesus, the rest will follow. Our words, our actions, the love of God that flows naturally from us WILL glorify Him. We will WANT to tell others about Him because we will be so excited about this abundant life He wants to provide.

Good works will be a part of what we do because we want to please Him, not because we think we can earn extra love or be deserving of God’s grace. That can never happen. It’s a pure gift. Pure…and simple.

Jeremiah 31:3
“…I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness.”

For Those Who Think Young

For those of you too young to remember, it was an advertising slogan: “Pepsi! For those who think young.” I prefer Coke. But that’s not what’s kept me from thinking young.

It’s this whole retirement issue. I gave a lot of thought, and words, to how I expected retirement to impact Steve. I assumed I would sail right through – handle the move well, continue to write, serve, be productive – my well-adjusted self. As I’ve reiterated to my family and friends through phone calls, conversations and the blog, I’ve morphed into an emotional, poorly adjusted mess.

I’ve concentrated on the downside of retirement, the things I’ve missed – my first Christmas away from my Virginia home, the first snow (blizzard!), all the other firsts I’ve moaned about privately and to anyone who would listen. Oh, I’ve had sparks of settling in and there have been peaks to the ride. But adjusting, long-term, it’s-all-good adjusting, is only just starting to come.

Our house is being renovated. And the rooms have pretty much been turned upside down. Surprisingly, I’m okay with it; I expected my ordered mind to explode during this process. But I’ve decided I’m just numb. I’ve been sick, but also I’ve turned my emotions off.

Getting well after honking, snuffling sickness does wonders for the soul. I got up yesterday morning and breathed – through my nose! And life looked pretty good. I felt well enough to do some work, begin to get the place in order in a way that I have not been able to since we moved in. This morning, I had the coughing again, but it’s gone now and I’m feeling great. And for the first time, I felt retired, in a good way.

And I began to look at the upside of retirement. As James McDonald advises, replacing an attitude of complaining with thankfulness. And I realized that I’ve been thinking a lot about getting old and looking back instead of forward.

Steve and I had our children at a relatively young age and, if God wills it, we have years of enjoying life and each other ahead of us. We live in such a beautiful community with people who are sweet and dear. And 2009 has also been a wonderful year of firsts here – a neighborhood picnic on the fourth of July; a trip out into the country for field-fresh sweet corn; a pontoon convoy across two lakes, through a lock and down a river for fresh seafood; golf cart caroling; a Christmas parade across the lake in lit pontoons; and a sweet new year celebration with new friends.

I realized that I was letting God’s work, or lack of it, weigh me down. I was so intent on “serving”, as if it was work that I needed to do and didn’t know how to proceed with right now. All I feel the need to do at the moment is write this blog and settle into our home. And enjoy life! This is the first time in 20 years that I have not gone through an accounting year-end close process! I look at the days ahead with no bosses, no deadlines, no alarm clocks. And I feel enthusiastic, young, and ready for a Coke!