The Latter Half of 2014

My modest snowman collection, which I'm leaving up through the end of February

The last few months my life got caught up in a whirlwind.  Some of it was good.  My daughter played volleyball for a small team, and we spent August through October going to practices and games all over rural north Texas.  They mostly played small public schools, a few privates and a few homeschool teams.  One school was so small it wasn't even located in a town - just a building in the middle of some fields.

This precipitated lots of driving on my part, but as long as the drives are primarily rural, I don't mind. It actually is stress-relieving to be in the car and at the games, because there is nothing else you can do but BE there, all the other pressures and responsibilities of life temporarily melt away.  (As an aside, I took one of those little personality quizzes on Facebook, and one thing that rang true about myself that I hadn't previously thought of is that I am a very in-the-moment kind of person.  I'm not looking to move on to the next thing; I'm just happy being in the moment I'm in.  Which has its pros and cons.......).

There were so many things I wish I could have taken a photo of to show rural Texas to you:  oil pumps bobbing their heads up and down like some kind of dinosaur relics; wind farms; LOTS of cattle, longhorn and otherwise; LOTS of horses, too.  The trees are much less in number here than in the east of the U.S., but the ones we have tend to be low and spreading, majestic in their own way.  Rolling countryside, and of course, the big sky. Also, the little towns, often with a traditional square.  I enjoyed it all so much, which confirmed that I am definitely a small-town girl at heart.

I live NEAR rural Texas, but not really in it.  I personally live too close to what I call "subdivision hell", where huge look-alike houses completely cover their lots and are built so close together you could hop from roof to roof, and highways look like mazes and traffic jams are all too daily. There is beauty to be found there too, but getting out and away from all that was a balm to my senses.

Unfortunately for the blog, I had to enjoy all this rural beauty without any photos, as I was the driver and I was speeding down the highways (one nice thing about Texas is that you can drive fast, speed limits are sometimes 75mph!), and while the stress was less, there was still a volleyball player pushing me to get to our destination on time: no dilly-dallying!!

The volleyball season ended at the end of October in a national tournament in Springfield, Missouri.  My daughter, my two youngest sons and I went for a long weekend.  Her team won the title for their division in the tournament, which was very exciting and a great ending to the season.

I assumed things were about to slow down, but when we returned to Texas, life took another turn.  First of all, we had a very disruptive bug infestation, which was a major deal and I will talk about that at some later point.  Then, my husband needed surgery, which he had right before Thanksgiving.  He is doing fine now, but it was two months before he could eat normally.  The first couple of weeks everything had to be liquified, and I was glad I had the Ninja blender!  Then, right after his surgery, his dad's health, which has been precarious for several years, started plummeting. My husband did have good talks with him on the phone, but he couldn't go see his dad because he was still unable to travel.  Hospice was called in, but less than a week later his dad just went to sleep for a couple of days and then went on home to heaven.  This is actually what we were praying would happen.  We didn't want his dad to have to suffer in pain, and he was ready to go.

However, the memorial service had to be postponed until we were able to travel to Tennessee (and my sister-in-law who lives in Florida could travel), and my other sister-in-law who lives in Tennessee had a son who was getting married right before Christmas, so they rolled the wedding and the memorial service into one long weekend, the weekend before Christmas.  Like I've said before, these major life events are spread far enough apart that my two younger sons had grown again and therefore had no appropriate clothes to wear, so they got new suits out of the deal.  My daughter made herself a dress for the wedding, which will eventually get blogged, and I wore a lace dress  I made a couple of years ago.

There were many misadventures along the way and while we were there, which probably best remain unblogged (sometimes family stories need to stay in the family, at least for a few years;).  The two-day drive was grueling, and it was also sad because now there is only one grandparent left.  But it was good to see family - however briefly - and it was good to hear from so many people who had loved my father-in-law.

We wanted to be back home in time for Christmas, so we pushed through and pulled back into town about 2:30 p.m. Christmas Eve.  I didn't even go to the house.  I had them drop me off at the grocery store and then my husband came back and got me.  I rushed around Kroger (along with everybody else in town!) and grabbed stuff to festive up the holiday.  I went home and in about an hour made sugared pecans, peppermint bark, sausage balls, fudge, and some other stuff I can't even remember now.  Suffice it to say that I amazed myself, even though my family took it in stride!

Christmas came and went.  Uncharacteristically, we had wrapped most of the gifts before our trip East, we actually had outside lights up and our tree had been up since the weekend after Thanksgiving.  All that helped since we had so few hours to get ready to celebrate. I was also uncharacteristically efficient after Christmas: all the decorations were taken down and put away by New Year's.  I left the snowmen up through January February because they are cheerful and can be considered 'winter decorating'.  So far though this winter has been very cloudy and gloomy but snow-less.........

I do think we should consider hibernating during the winter.  Everything feels like a slog. Too much death in 2014 for me; too much grief. It is still a bit difficult to look at 2015 with hopeful eyes, instead of wondering what unhappy events lie in wait around the corner. Which is not a good attitude on my part, and not one I want to have!  This year I will reach the half-century mark, which is also daunting, mostly because I don't feel like I 'have arrived' or 'have it all together' or anything like that.

Thankfully, my hope is not in myself and my coping abilities or accomplishments, but in God who holds all things in His hands.  My desire for 2015 (and following) is to find joy in the midst of the uncertainty and the messes and the bumbling along of me in my life.  I want to enjoy my family, my home, cooking, making things, working here and there, gardening, friends, church, nature, etc. All these and more are good gifts, and "every good gift and every perfect gift is from above" - James 1:17."  There are good gifts every single day.  I want to have eyes to see the gifts and the Giver, and to let my heart be glad.

 "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." - Psalm 118:24

"Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, rejoice." - Philippians 4:4 KJV

Postscript

A large rainbow that appeared over my neighborhood this past spring

It has been awhile since I posted.  I have to confess that for the last few years I have been feeling a bit squeezed by life.  Reading blogs by others (one of the most encouraging to me is Brenda at coffeeteabooksandme and if you haven't read her blog I 'implore you to exert yourself' and give it a try) and blogging myself has been helpful, but sometimes blogging itself gets squeezed out by life.  I have four boys and a daughter, all now teenagers/young adults, ages that bring with them a lot of relational, parental, emotional, and financial challenges.  I love them all to pieces, but I don't always know the best way to maneuver in these difficult waters.  Add to that the reality of aging/dying parents and the awareness of our own growth in years, job stresses, etc. and my husband and I looked at each other one day and said "This must be what a mid-life crisis feels like!"  Hmmm........

I appreciate so much your kind comments about my mother's death.  It is strengthening to have the support of friends.  I just returned from spending a week and a half with my siblings cleaning out my mom's house in Tennessee.  As an adult I have never lived in a house with a basement and often lamented that fact.  I am rethinking that now:)  Apparently, a basement is a place where you can just put all the things you don't know what to do with, and after 30 plus years in the same house.......let's just say my brothers became very good friends with the man who ran the dump!  We didn't get completely finished, but we made a good dent in it.  We each chose some things to keep (and I am now trying to fit my treasures into my house), and the rest will go into an estate sale.

We coped emotionally because the work just kept driving us forward.  We didn't have much time for meditation.  We boxed up the photos and decided that maybe next summer we will get together to go through them - there was no way we would have been able to do them this time.  My two brothers and my sister and I all get along very well, so while the task was difficult, the time spent together was comforting and relatively stress-free (I just realized I made a pun;)  We really didn't want anyone else to help -- it was a job that needed to be "just us."  We got to spend some good time with my dad and his wife as well, taking him dinner three different times.

There were some fun things.  My brothers and I stayed up late one night laughing at old photos:  all I can say is the 1970s and 1980s were not kind, style-wise......  My sister and I found our wedding dresses and prom dresses (all made by my mom).  Lots of things we had forgotten about.  But a lot of my mom's possessions (her "nice things") were acquired in the last 25 years, after we were all grown and out of the house.  The grandkids associated all the nice things with her, but my siblings and I remember instead the naugahide couch that we used for building forts and for sliding down the stairs on the cushions and things like that.  (For the record, I totally understand waiting until the kids are grown before having nice things because kids break things;)

There were other fun things.  Over the weekend I spent the night with two of my high school friends, and we had a wonderful time staying up til three in the morning reminiscing and catching up.  Also, another friend and her husband came and took me for dinner one night, and a fourth friend came by one afternoon and we spent about an hour catching up.

I thought I would have a little more downtime for memories and driving around significant places, but it was really too busy.  I did spend one night alone in mom's house (I flew to Tennessee, but my husband drove in the next week so he could pack my stuff up in a trailer and we could haul it back to Texas).  That night it was hard to go to sleep -- very, very seldom in my life have I spent the night in a house by myself:)  But as I lay there thinking about life now and life after death, I realized that the things that are the most solid, and most central, and most real, are God's truths.  When life's hard or sad or happy times come round, those truths will hold.  Sometimes Confessions say it best.  Here is Question 1 from the Heidelberg Catechism (1563):

Christian, what is thy only comfort in life and in death? 

That I, with body and soul, both in life and in death, am not my own, but belong to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ, who with His precious blood has fully satisfied for all my sins, and redeemed me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me, that without the will of my Father in heaven not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must work together for my salvation. Wherefore, by His Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me heartily willing and ready henceforth to live unto Him. 

Also, the words of Paul:

"For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." - Philippians 1:21 (KJV)

Ponderings on Death this Mother's Day

View from my mom's backyard at sunset April 2014

I want to thank each of you for your prayers and comforting words since my mother's death before Easter. I have been the recipient of so much kindness these past few weeks, from many meals and other helpful deeds being provided for my family, to thoughtful words and prayers from friends I have yet to meet in real life.  It is a great reminder that the truly important part of life is relationships.

In our culture we don't have a lot of time set aside to grieve.  The funeral itself was a blur of making arrangements, greeting all the people who came to pay their respects, figuring out logistics of travel.  Then the next week my brothers and sister and I had to go right back to our regular lives.  In the old pagan days we would have torn our clothes and cut ourselves with knives, or more biblically maybe worn sackcloth and sat in ashes, refusing to eat.  Something.  Because this was a surprise event, we had done none of our grieving early.  I expect it will come when it comes, different for each of us, and we will each have to find a way to make a space for it.

Yesterday my first thoughts upon opening my eyes were about my mom.  It was the first time I actually let myself say to her "I miss you, Mom." But I started thinking about this Mother's Day and the sadness of it, and I realized for my mom it is a beautiful day.  She may be spending it with her mother, and her great-aunt, and her grandmothers, and her great-grandmothers, and on and on.  What wonder to look back through the generations and see the love and even the hardships that had a hand in our past. No longer bound by time and space, able to know and be known by Christ Himself but also by all the generational links back to the beginning of time.  Mind-boggling.

Some of my grief has been shamefully selfish.  I loved my mom, and I miss her for selfish reasons. So that I can tell her something.  So that I can call her.  So that I can hear about everyone else in the family that she kept up with. So that I know I always have a place to go home to. So that my children always have a grandmother who loves them. So that we can go thrift shopping together. So that I have my mother who always wants to give me a small gift. So that there is someone who has known me my entire life -- longer than I've even known myself. So that my mom can be the link back to her mom and her mom before her through all the stories that were handed down. So that my mom can make each new grandchild his/her own special quilt. So that my brothers and sister and I have a link holding us all together, no matter how far apart we are geographically.  I could go on and on.

So that there is at least one generation standing between me and my own mortality.  I have to admit to being shaken up about that.  My mom had had heart problems, but supposedly she was doing fine.  She was always a vibrant, healthy person, active, never overweight.  Her parents died in their eighties.  Her sudden death at 67 from a heart attack or stroke leaves little reassurance for me.  I can't say "if I just don't do this (whatever this is),  I'll be okay".  Her death feels arbitrary, and I guess it somewhat makes me - her oldest child, her daughter who is only 18 years younger than she - feel doomed.  I already have sucky genetics (high blood pressure, diabetes, etc.) against me on my dad's side.  Yes, I know that God has our days numbered, and there is nothing we can do to add or subtract from that, but this is where head knowledge and visceral reality meet.

I think maybe no matter how old you are when you lose a parent, you still feel like an orphan.  Both my husband (his mother died suddenly last year) and I are surprised to be without the safety net of a mother and her prayers and her "capableness," if that's a word.  I have to say that I don't think I could ever fill the shoes of either my mother or my mother-in-law.  At one year shy of 50, I still never feel mature or like I've got it all together, like I could be the matriarch of a family.

On one hand, I am feeling very grim and sober about this life.  Bad things happen, not just death, but other things too.  Even in these last few weeks, more troubles have headed my family's way. It seems like my forties have been too much about learning that, too much grief.

On the other hand, I feel reckless and extravagant.  Seeing how quickly life can be turned to death, I want to love my husband and children (and others), to actually be alive while I'm here, to put aside all petty annoyances and hindrances and to embrace all the good and the wonderful that also constantly surround me, whether it's watching baby wrens learning to fly or hearing my children laugh.

How to do that, and not be paralyzed by fear or dread.  Not a theoretical problem, but an imminently practical one.

One thing that has helped me.  I have had two very vivid dreams about my mother-in-law since she died.  The dreams were different, but in each dream the feeling was the same.  My mother-in-law was so happy, so joyful, light, almost giddy.  I've thought about that and thought maybe that's what we are like in heaven where we have no worries, no burdens, no fears anymore.  What will it be like to be totally free of fear and the cares that weigh us down, and at the same time know we are totally loved? One day we too will know.  It reminds me of the verse in 1 John 4:18 "...perfect love casteth out fear."

I want/need to wrestle with God through the Psalms, and I want/need to worship Him like Peter:
"Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life." John 6:68 (KJV)

Robins

Yesterday began and ended with drizzle and heavy fog.  However, around lunch time I returned home from an errand, and while the skies were still gray, the fog and mist had temporarily lifted.  I got out of the car and decided to walk down to the end of the driveway and pick up my soggy, plastic-wrapped newspaper.  As I walked, I began to notice bird song in the air -- something I hadn't heard in a long time.  I looked up and saw birds all round my little neighborhood.  There were tiny birds swarming in the bare branches of a mulberry tree, but they were so tiny and so fast I could not get a photo nor could I clearly identify them.   Doves were pecking beneath the bird feeder in my backyard, but I could not get a photo of them either because they attracted the notice of my little dog Luna, who raced out and barked at them in a very offended manner.

My neighbors' yard was filled with robins.  By leaving Luna in the house, I was able to get photos of a few of them using the zoom on my camera.

We live too far south for robins to be the first heralds of spring -- it's spring when they go back north.  I'm not sure where they spent the month of December, though.  We had a very icy, cold December -- the polar vortex reached all the way down to Texas -- and yesterday 40 degrees felt downright warm. 

I thought so anyway and so, apparently, did the birds.  This little fella is enjoying a puddle.

Winter is actually a pretty good time for us to see birds.  The usual winter birds of cardinals, chickadees, titmice, bluebirds and dark-eyed juncos are around, as well as lots of blue jays, crows, mockingbirds, starlings/grackles, doves, ducks and geese.  We also live on some kind of migratory highway.  Birds pass through on their way south to Mexico for the winter and then again when they go back north in the summer.  Every year for a few days we enjoy flocks of cedar waxwings, Mississippi kites, killdeer, and goldfinches.  More ominously, our entire town gets covered up in starlings/grackles (I'm never sure of their official name) at certain times of year, to the point you begin to feel you are personally inhabiting an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

 

Anyway, it was nice to see so many birds out cavorting around because this past month has been a month to hunker down in the house.  The Christmas season seemed very short, partly because  Thanksgiving was so late and then an ice storm hit my county and lasted through the first week of December.  School didn't finish until December 20th and then my mother arrived for an extended visit on the 19th.  Blogging had to fall by the wayside to make room for parental and filial duties.

This was the first time my mother had visited me in five years.  She got to spend Christmas with us and we had a great time making candy, thrift shopping, and generally just lounging about.  I took almost no photos of the holidays -- when I'm with other people I seldom think to stop and take photographs -- but sometimes that's okay.  While it's fun to have documentation, it's not always necessary.  It's okay just to live:)

I feel like I should have something more profound to say about the changing of the year from 2013 to 2014, but I'm past the point of thinking I know everything and I'm not yet to the point of feeling like I have a lot of wisdom to impart.  I will say this about 2013 -- I lived through it, with its good parts and its hard parts.  I hope to say the same about 2014.  Of course I cannot read the future, but from this vantage point it doesn't look to me that it will be an easier year.  In fact, it looks like a year of hard  work.

I have a friend who chooses -- or feels that God chooses -- a word for each new year.  I don't usually do that, but this year the word "diligent" keeps calling my name.  The Lord has helped and will continue to help me persevere, but at the same time He is calling me to be diligent:  that is, to keep doing faithfully those things that I know to do.  I will leave the results to Him.  I guess it's like the old song:  "Trust and obey, for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus, than to trust and obey."

I'm not trying to be gloomy and pessimistic.  Although many sad and hard things happened in 2013, many good things happened, too.  I'm sure the same will be true of 2014:)

In any case, I wish you all a belated Happy New Year!

Under Pressure

Chemical Weathering of Limestone

Inside this mason jar a limestone rock is soaking in vinegar and is slowly disintegrating.  The rock started out much larger and very smooth.  (This is an example of "chemical weathering" for those of you who don't have a student in general science this year;)  I have been observing this rock disintegrate for several weeks now because it is sitting on the windowsill above my kitchen sink.

On the other end of the windowsill is a different mason jar filled with dirt, sand, gravel, and water.  After jostling the mess around for a day or so, the contents of the jar were left to settle and over time they settled into distinct layers.  Most of the sand is on the bottom, then a layer of gravel and dirt, then a layer of light sediment, with fairly clear water on top.

The Laying Down of Sediments

Sitting nearby on the counter is a bowl, which used to contain a big square of pristine steel wool. The steel wool has been transformed into its current state by nothing more dramatic than soaking in household vinegar for a few weeks (just like the limestone rock, a victim of "chemical weathering").

Chemical Weathering of Steel Wool

There was a time I tried to keep fresh flowers on my windowsill, and hopefully that time will come again.  But right now science experiments surround me, and in some sense they serve as metaphors for what is going on internally as well.  A lot of weathering, a lot of rubbing away of sharp points, a lot of transforming.

This fall has been a time of pressure in my home.  Five teenagers/young adults in the house is a lot of food and laundry to keep up with, but just as importantly, it is a lot of conversations.  Conflict resolution conversations, talking-someone-off-the-cliff conversations, listening-to-venting conversations, reassuring conversations, attempts-to-motivate conversations, crisis-avoiding conversations, temper-cooling conversations, faith-building conversations, asking-(and hearing)-questions conversations, late-late-night conversations, late-late-night-waiting-for-the-last-person-to-make-it-home praying conversations.

This has also been a time of increased academic pressure as everyone has more homework, more papers to get done, more decisions about the future to make, etc.  And some students are more motivated than others.....

Financial pressure has also increased this year, a combination of poor planning with some unforeseen and unavoidable expenses.

Plus, I am at the age where I am starting to have health pressures, both my husband and I have parental (our parents) worries, and there is not any one standing in line to buffer any of it anymore.....it's just us.  I have felt very squeeeeeezed.......why?  Well, I need a lot more wisdom, discernment, patience, hope, discipline, authority, energy, frugality, creativity, encouragement, perspective, endurance and love than I've got.

I think I have unconsciously been living my life under the delusion that things will get easier when (substitute whatever) happens, when a new decade arrives. That is not how it works (at least so far as I can tell).  Every season has its good  parts and every season has its hard parts.  Also, everybody's story is different; we don't all have the same burdens, nor the same joys.  It does me no good to compare my story to yours -- I am called to live MY story, and it may require different things from me than yours does from you.

Which brings me back to the limestone rock.  There is another way that limestone rock can change.  If, deep in the earth, it is subjected to intense heat and pressure over a long period of time, it can be transformed, or metamorphosed,  into marble, through a process called 'recrystallization.'  I am hoping that all this pressure will have this good result in me (and everyone else in my family), that the character of Christ is being formed in us.  It is certainly not something that can be seen on a day-to-day basis, but I hope to one day look back and think wow...the Lord has done something beautiful with all of these messy lives.

On my windowsill is one more science experiment:  a bowl of crystals that were formed by dissolving alum powder in water (you can get directions here).  Not quite diamonds and not quite marble, they still are incredibly beautiful. The same God who has power to change things on a molecular level has the power to change people on a spiritual level, bringing forth beauty and order and love and peace and perseverance -- all the fruits of the Spirit -- from people who once walked in darkness.

Alum Crystals

Squished behind all the science experiments on my windowsill is an index-card stand.  For a long, long time the only verse written there has been John 16:33.  Every time I would think about changing it, I would think No, I still need that verse.  I finally feel like I can add another verse, one that has been hanging around my thoughts for awhile, to remind me that God is able to do so much MORE than all that we ask or think:

"Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end.  Amen" -- Ephesians 3:20-21 (KJV)

A Deer Blessing

Before I go east to visit my and my husband's families, I have in my mind some things I would like to do if I get a chance.  One of them is just to drive around in the country and visit places that were important to me when I was growing up, and maybe even take some pictures.  Well, that has yet to happen.  When we visit, I am juggling so many people's schedules and trying to keep everybody (my teenagers plus all my relatives that live there) 'relatively' happy;).  And I am usually too busy talking and visiting to remember to take pictures.  Also, I don't have a car of my own or free time of my own to cavort around on any solo adventures.  That's okay, life has its different seasons, that time alone is for the future (and I'm afraid I may not like it when it comes;)

So after my week with my sister-in-laws, my husband and three youngest kids met me.  The three kids went to camp in North Carolina, and my husband and I spent a few days in South Carolina at some meetings he had to attend for work. We all eventually ended up back in Tennessee for some quick family visits before heading west again.  It was very busy, but we had a good time (although, no pictures).

The whole time we were in Tennessee our eyes feasted on the green and on the hills.  I get hungry for both out here in Texas.  We spotted this little white-tail deer family on the side of the road near my father-in-law's new assisted living home.  This is the only time we did remember to take some pictures.

They were mildly interested in us, but not too afraid.

It was a pleasure to see these twin fawns that still had their spots.

We pulled off to the side of the road and just watched them until they finally bounded off through the tall grass and we couldn't see them anymore.

It's easy for me to get caught up in the hecticness and the perceived pressure of everything that needs to get done.  Sometimes I'm like a mole, tunneling forward steadily but feeling suffocated.  God makes room for us to breathe and to remember what (and who) is important through  gifts like these deer.  Just the stopping and taking pleasure in these little fawns helped put life back in perspective.

"Be still, and know that I am God:  I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.  The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah." -- Psalm 46:10-11 KJV  

Easter 2013

White irises in my backyard

It's hard to believe that Easter has come and gone.  We had a good day.  We colored eggs on Saturday, went to church on Sunday, we had friends over for lunch, and the rest of the day relaxed.  Although there were Easter baskets, there was no hiding of eggs, and it struck me that there will probably be no more hiding of eggs around here until some future time when little grandchildren will be present.  It's a little poignant to think that era of life is over for me....

However, this Easter was made extra special because earlier in the week my youngest son had met with the elders of our church and professed his faith in Jesus and his desire to become a communing member of our church.  So Sunday he joined, and this past week all my children stood with me and we all took communion together for the first time.

As a mother this was a very happy moment for me.  I, like probably every Christian parent, asked that the Lord not give me any children that would not love Him and be His.  Is this the end of having to worry about and pray for my children?  No, of course not.

I have a lot of children teenagers/young adults, and there are many, many things I worry about for them and about them.  Often that is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to sleep.  There are many dark things that my children have already had to walk through, and many more to go I know.  There have been hurtful things done and foolish choices made.
Hard things have had to be dealt with, and will have to be dealt with, as long as we live here in this fallen world.

I have absolutely no confidence in my abilities as a parent, either.  However, my confidence rests in the word of God, which says this:

"Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ:"  Philippians 1:6

And also this:

 "...for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day." 2 Timothy 1:12

For now, I rejoice in the resurrection.  Light has overcome darkness; Life has swallowed up death and sin, and will continue to swallow them up until they exist no more.  Alleluia.

Hospitality

"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." -- Hebrews 13:2

Cheryl at Thinking About Home has been writing a series, 31 Days of Hospitality.  Today she is making it a linkup, which allows others to contribute to the subject, so I'm throwing in my two cents.  I have desired to write on hospitality for a long time, but couldn't quite get my thoughts together.  It is a central value of my life.  Perhaps that is why it has been so difficult for me to write about it.

A lot of my convictions about hospitality began with my maternal grandparents, who were strong influences on me from an early age (you can get a little flavor of this from my Easter post).  My grandmother had NOTHING fancy, she never drove, she hardly got to go to the grocery store herself (my grandfather would go), they were not perfect people at all, BUT throughout their long lives they sheltered, fed and comforted many, many people.  They were a stabilizing presence in their rural community.  This made a deep impression on me.

Then, when I was around 12 or 13, I read an interview with Mother Teresa that was published in McCall's magazine (this would have been late 1970s).  In that interview she told a story of a young nun who was washing some very repulsive wounds on a patient.  The young nun was doing a deed of mercy, but with an attitude of distaste.  Mother Teresa said no, no -- like this:  and then she lovingly and with grace washed those same wounds in a way that preserved the dignity and worth of the patient.  Her message was 'Do it like it was unto Jesus.'  That article has always stayed with me, and I have pulled it out of my memory to ponder over the years.

Then, early on in my marriage, I read a book by Karen Mains called Open Heart, Open Home that was a major influence in my thinking on home.  Other things I read by Edith Schaeffer (for example, Tapestry, The Hidden Art of Homemaking) and Elisabeth Elliot reinforced some of the ideas or fleshed them out.  Basically I believe that our homes are gifts from God for our personal shelter but are also to be used to minister to others.

My home has looked very different over the years.  I've lived in apartments, rental homes, owner homes, big cities, small towns.  I've lived in different parts of the country.  I've really never been flush with cash.  I don't have someone clean or decorate my home, and every part of my home is lived in.  I've had no children, lots of small children, and now lots of older children.  When they all leave the nest my husband and I will be back to no children.  The hospitality we are able to offer looks different, too.  Many, many people have been through my house for meals, hanging out, spending the night, and a few have even stayed for an extended period.  These people themselves have all been different:  friends, college students, people from other countries, family (although far rarer than I would like), troubled people.  Some people are repeat guests while others are one-time visitors.

If you mistakenly think I'm 'the hostess with the mostest', think again. I am not the kind of person who does anything formal.  I have friends who are great at planning elaborate brunches or dinners, and I thoroughly enjoy being invited to one, but that is not my forte.  My house/yard is never all the way clean or decorated.  In fact if you come over you may immediately feel better about your own housekeeping, or parenting, or cooking;)  However, I do think my particular gift is to make people feel welcome, to give them a safe spot in which to BE for a little while.  A friend of mine stopped by one day unannounced, and she said she had never done that before in her life but somehow she thought I was the kind of person that it would be okay (it was).  I was pleased that she said that because I do aspire to be that kind of person.

Through your home, no matter how humble, you can offer a refuge even if it is just a drink of water (Matthew 10:42).  This is part of our mission as Christians in this world.  If you are lonely or are new somewhere, don't wait for others to extend hospitality to you.  You go ahead and extend hospitality to others.  It can be very simple -- most people would be delighted just to be asked.  And remember the types of people Jesus asks to his wedding feast (Luke 14:15-24)  and do likewise.

Hospitality is not easy or convenient (as Cheryl says so eloquently in her series).  It is not designed to bring you glory or praise.  Hospitality is challenging.  It's a lot of work.  It requires you to spread your food further than you thought it would go.  It inflates your grocery budget.  It makes for a lot more dishes.  It infringes on your privacy.  It exposes your dirty laundry (both figuratively and literally).  It can sometimes make you feel taken advantage of, or at least resentful that YOU don't get invited anywhere.  Sometimes guests are awkward or are in very serious trouble and you feel in over your head.

But we are not required to have all the answers.  Hospitality just asks us to give a cup of cold water in Jesus' name, to share a meal together with someone in Jesus' name, to offer them a safe place just to sit or maybe even to sleep in Jesus' name.  Hospitality does not solve the problems of the world, but it does give rest to the weary soul and buoys up the downhearted.  We will never know in this lifetime what good it may do; we must trust God Himself to bless our efforts to be lights in a dark place.

The plaque at the top of my post was made and given to us by a young woman who once was a frequent guest at our house.  She now has her own house of hospitality.  I hang the plaque by my front entrance as a reminder.  Who knows but we too may have entertained an "angel unawares"?

To read some other thoughts on hospitality go here.

Treasures from Home

My sifter belonged to my great-aunt Mabel

On our recent trip to visit family in Tennessee, I drove.  In case you were wondering, it's about an 18-hour drive, and yes I take two days to do it.  I am too old to drive that far in one day, especially with a car full of teenagers:)  We have flown before, but the cost of seven plane tickets is prohibitive, and then there is still the problem of transportation while we are there.  The other problem with flying is that I can't bring anything back with me.  Since this time I did have the car, I was able to bring back some treasures.

My mom had offered me these pink dishes before, but I had declined to take them, mainly because there is not enough of them to go around for my large family.  But after thinking about it, I decided I could probably add to them through some antique shopping, either locally or via ebay.  I changed my mind and asked if the offer was still good (it was:).  The large dessert or cake plate and the six small serving plates that match it belonged to my great-grandmother (my mother's maternal grandmother).  She died when my mom was ten, so I know her only through family stories.

The dishes are very faintly pink pressed glass, very pretty in person.  They are not particularly expensive and may have been something that came as a promotional item in oatmeal or flour containers. The cookie jar and the goblets were picked up by mom at thrift stores here and there, but she gave them all to me as a set that goes together.  The cookie jar has a broken lid, but I think it can be glued back together.

She also gave me these two glass serving pieces, one square and one for deviled eggs, and this cake dome, which will definitely come in handy to keep flies and greedy dogs out of the treats.

Finally Mom gave me these two cast iron skillets.  The larger one is the right size for making cornbread.  I already have one but I wanted another so that I could make two loaves of cornbread at the same time (necessary to keep everyone happy).  The tiny skillet is just about worn out -- if cast iron can wear out -- but it belonged to my granny (my mother's paternal grandmother), who I did know because she lived until I was 27.  Little skillets like this are good for frying or scrambling an egg or two, and it's always fun to use something that once belonged to someone you loved (or who you would have loved if you could have known them).

And switching over to the other side of the family, these lovely jars of homemade goodness were made by my husband's sister.  She not only let us stay with her during our visit but sent me home with these goodies.  She is a terrific gardener and chicken keeper (and cat and dog and goat keeper, too), and I'm looking forward to enjoying these during the coming year.

It is so nice to visit our families and have little exchanges of treasures, especially since we don't see each other often.    I usually take my mom and sister books I have read that I think they'll like, or toys or games my kids have outgrown that younger cousins might like, or clothes that don't look good on me but might on them, stuff like that.  

It can be good to have tangible reminders that there are people -- even though we live far apart (some as far apart as heaven is to earth:)  -- who love us and think of us despite the distance.  This knowledge helps keep us -- me -- grounded, helps me remember that yes, I am part of a larger group even when I am tempted to think I'm all alone. I think that's how it is with God, too.  Even though He is not physically visible to us, He sends us tangible gifts to remind us that He loves us and to comfort us and to nourish us on the way.  And to remind us that we have a heavenly home and family waiting.  And someday we'll actually be home -- after all, that's where we are headed.

River views from a park near my mom's house

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." -- James 1:17 KJV

Singing Hymns

      

While I live will I praise the LORD;  I will sing praises unto my God while I have any being.
                                                                                        -- Psalm 146:2

Through my memory I am listening to the sound of many voices from my past.  It's odd how the memory of sound holds onto things,  how many voices I can still remember, even though it's been many years since I've heard them.  Today in particular I'm remembering voices singing, singing in church.

When I was growing up, there was a woman at my church.  I don't really know what was wrong, but she could not articulate words, she could only make some sounds.  She sat near the front of the church, and during the songs she always sang right along, despite not being able to form the words.  Just sounds, which of course sometimes could get the teenagers tickled, but true praise to God, how beautiful her voice must sound to him.

At this same church, there was a boy, a little older than me, who had Downs Syndrome.  His family brought him to every church activity, and he was included in everything possible, from taking up the offering, to public prayer, to singing in the congregation.  To my knowledge, both these people still faithfully attend that church, and just their presence has been an encouragement to many others over the years, reminders that there is room in the body of Christ for them and for us.

I also remember lots of old ladies, almost deaf (my great-grandmother was one of them), with their white or silver hair tied up in a bun, and their floral dresses and big clip-on earrings and sensible shoes, and their smiles for the children and their faithfulness, despite poverty and deafness and loneliness.  I can hear their crackly voices even now. Most of them are long gone by now to their heavenly home, but in churches all over others rise up (or age up) to take their place.  And one day, if God so wills, I will be one of them:)

After I was married and moved away, I attended a different church, and there I remember different voices singing.  I loved this church because everyone did sing.  For a while I had gone to a church where, although close to a thousand people might be there, you couldn't hear anyone around you make a sound during the hymn.  I don't know if it was considered bad form, or they were all self-conscious, but hymns are there for singing, aren't they?  In fact, church is one of the few places where we regular people are actually supposed to sing, it's part of our worship.

Anyway, in the church where everyone DID sing, the pastor himself would stand up front and sing heartily to the Lord.  He had a pretty good voice, but it is his heartiness that most sticks with me and that I most appreciated.  It gave permission to all of us to sing just as heartily as he, to "make a joyful sound." And for the most part, that's what the congregation did.

I think for my husband some of the best times of singing have been when he has been in a congregation of men -- mostly pastors -- and that roomful of male voices lifted up in praise to God has been a balm to his soul.

My church now is small.  Sometimes the singing is loud, but sometimes not, depending on how many people are there and how self-conscious they are.  And I have teenagers, and I have found to my shock that they don't like hearty singing, especially from their mother.  So I have tried -- unsuccessfully -- not to be an embarrassment to them.  But I long for the day in heaven when we can sing -- without self-consciousness, without second-guessing our motives -- with abandon to God Himself, when our tongues will not be able to keep silence but must burst forth in praise.