The twinkling lights and shimmering bulbs,
Tinsel and glitter that hung in the night,
The yule log and creche
Remind us of the
Celebration of Love and Hope
Just passed.
But now the decorations come down.
Rubbish goes out and life goes on.
Back to normal, we say.
What then?
This Celebration of Love
that filled our busy days
with excitement and joy and nostalgic memories,
Is this all-what then?
No, no.
This Celebration comes from God,
and it fills the vacuum of emptiness and void
when He comes.
This Celebration never stops and we discover
the love of good will
that some try to work up
Overflows even after the decor is stored
and we find that the greatest gifts given were those
that money could not buy,
nor be discarded or exchanged.
Thank God, the celebration never stops,
once he comes.
What then?
It's never the same again,
this Celebration of Love in our hearts.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
ANTICIPATION OF ADVENT
Odors of spices permeated my little kitchen to prepare for this day.It took days in small amounts of time to decorate the cottage on "Gingerbread Circle"which Austin had mumbled through his younger days until he began chunking words, and he realized that it was Granger View Circle. This Advent Brunch was prepared.
The festive tables were stacked with home-made goodies and pots of steaming wassail that reminded me of past days when a lovely lady, Lucretia Farmer, introduced me to this delightful English drink.She would be pleased if she knew I have carried on her tradition.
The guests were greeted by beautiful young teen-agers who were hostesses in their new vintage aprons. As bubbly as they were, they shared that message.
There is something contagious about anticipation that we feel prior to Christmas. Children catch it easily, but the truth is that in our confused world of values, we need His light. It is not wishful thinking, but light that elevates our spirit out of our doldrums.
This particular day was sunny and unusually bright for early December. It was like God was setting the stage of anticipation for His children.
What would we like to see happen this Advent season? Can we listen for His still small voice and let Him speak in the midst of our busy-ness?
The festive tables were stacked with home-made goodies and pots of steaming wassail that reminded me of past days when a lovely lady, Lucretia Farmer, introduced me to this delightful English drink.She would be pleased if she knew I have carried on her tradition.
The guests were greeted by beautiful young teen-agers who were hostesses in their new vintage aprons. As bubbly as they were, they shared that message.
There is something contagious about anticipation that we feel prior to Christmas. Children catch it easily, but the truth is that in our confused world of values, we need His light. It is not wishful thinking, but light that elevates our spirit out of our doldrums.
This particular day was sunny and unusually bright for early December. It was like God was setting the stage of anticipation for His children.
What would we like to see happen this Advent season? Can we listen for His still small voice and let Him speak in the midst of our busy-ness?
Monday, November 26, 2012
WRITING OUR BLESSINGS AND FINDING GRATITUDE
Memories of some Alabama Thanksgivings cross my mind when each family came all dressed up for the occasion bearing dishes of scrumptious food. Some that I had not heard of became what I'd soon be making my tradition like the cornbread dressing with giblet gravy, a boiled raisin cake, and a golden pound cake with a dish of ambrosia garnished with fresh coconut.
As we gathered at the big table full of starving adults and the smaller table lined with hungry young'uns, silence came quickly, so someone could "say grace"and and the hungry folks could be fed. I wondered if our hearts were actually thankful for just that meal-or even some of the staggering things that the good Lord had brought us through?
Were our hearts full of gratitude enough that we loved the One who saw us through -the cancer that was healed, the loss of family members who were no longer here, the battles of tropical fever, the fires which had destroyed houses, but not our spirit?
Gratitude is what you have after you've "hit the bottom"and there is no where else to go, but to rise above the situation.
Gratitude is what happens when we can celebrate the chemo has worked and all is clear-even if it returns.
Gratitude is loving those who "do you wrong" and you still can love.
Gratitude may be forgiveness extended so your family can model what you do in the worst circumstances.
So now, umpteen Thanksgivings later, the youngest of the bunch reminds us of the blessings we wrote each other a few years ago. The white linen napkins lay at the side of our china plate with our name still there.
While coffee was brewing, we quietly took the colored pens and wrote words of blessings and thanks for the person whose napkins was passed to us. The atmosphere quietened and became sweeter as each wrote words of affirmation to each other until the circle around the table was complete.
Eating and drinking, we smiled as we partook of these wonderful foods. Life is best when we "write our blessings and give thanks" for this circle of love knowing that it won't always remain this way when one disappears from the way we are today- and then we will discover anew the meaning of gratitude.
As we gathered at the big table full of starving adults and the smaller table lined with hungry young'uns, silence came quickly, so someone could "say grace"and and the hungry folks could be fed. I wondered if our hearts were actually thankful for just that meal-or even some of the staggering things that the good Lord had brought us through?
Were our hearts full of gratitude enough that we loved the One who saw us through -the cancer that was healed, the loss of family members who were no longer here, the battles of tropical fever, the fires which had destroyed houses, but not our spirit?
Gratitude is what you have after you've "hit the bottom"and there is no where else to go, but to rise above the situation.
Gratitude is what happens when we can celebrate the chemo has worked and all is clear-even if it returns.
Gratitude is loving those who "do you wrong" and you still can love.
Gratitude may be forgiveness extended so your family can model what you do in the worst circumstances.
So now, umpteen Thanksgivings later, the youngest of the bunch reminds us of the blessings we wrote each other a few years ago. The white linen napkins lay at the side of our china plate with our name still there.
While coffee was brewing, we quietly took the colored pens and wrote words of blessings and thanks for the person whose napkins was passed to us. The atmosphere quietened and became sweeter as each wrote words of affirmation to each other until the circle around the table was complete.
Eating and drinking, we smiled as we partook of these wonderful foods. Life is best when we "write our blessings and give thanks" for this circle of love knowing that it won't always remain this way when one disappears from the way we are today- and then we will discover anew the meaning of gratitude.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
BIRTHDAY GLOW
Lots of responses come as birthdays face us. From childhood, most were hilarious. We couldn't wait until we turned sixteen, eighteen and twenty-one.
Then, as the decades hit us with the reality of the passage of life often with physical problems, birthdays became serious stuff. Even the lists of birthday gifts wanted became shorter and some faced depression as they viewed life as empty and forgot when gifts were special.
A pair of coffee mugs in my kitchen which were gifts, have statements on them that speak volumes."Give Love: Gather Love."
One doesn't realize the power of small gifts scattered through life. In fact, they may easily be forgotten until our mind is jogged by one of these monumental birthdays.
Hours away from my present home, I worked with neighborhood children new to our church. These children were blessed with faithful Sunday School teachers and youth leaders who constantly inspired them to work hard, serve God and life could be better. I treated them as my own children and a long bond was made that has continued to this day,even with my children. We encouraged them to pursue college and life did improve.
One of these ladies and her husband who live locally invited me to have a birthday breakfast with them. Before we left, they brought out a huge gift, a topiary spruce tree surrounded with blooming pansies. It would proudly stand on my porch.It was a gift from three of those children who grew up to become outstanding graduates and adults with their spouses who recalled that small gift of love that permeated their lives over
forty years ago.My eyes dampen in thanks as I recall the joy that filled my heart many times by their accomplishments. It was more than a birthday gift to me today, but a mature sense of gratitude.
"Give love" like you are scattering seeds and watch them produce. "Give love" to those you know and those you don't.When life seems futile and worthless, here is an antidote for the gloomies.
"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time, we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9
Heaven will reveal a lot of rewards to those who scatter seeds to those who are helpless and hopeless. What a dividend!
And this birthday was a special time to be reminded of this message again!
Then, as the decades hit us with the reality of the passage of life often with physical problems, birthdays became serious stuff. Even the lists of birthday gifts wanted became shorter and some faced depression as they viewed life as empty and forgot when gifts were special.
A pair of coffee mugs in my kitchen which were gifts, have statements on them that speak volumes."Give Love: Gather Love."
One doesn't realize the power of small gifts scattered through life. In fact, they may easily be forgotten until our mind is jogged by one of these monumental birthdays.
Hours away from my present home, I worked with neighborhood children new to our church. These children were blessed with faithful Sunday School teachers and youth leaders who constantly inspired them to work hard, serve God and life could be better. I treated them as my own children and a long bond was made that has continued to this day,even with my children. We encouraged them to pursue college and life did improve.
One of these ladies and her husband who live locally invited me to have a birthday breakfast with them. Before we left, they brought out a huge gift, a topiary spruce tree surrounded with blooming pansies. It would proudly stand on my porch.It was a gift from three of those children who grew up to become outstanding graduates and adults with their spouses who recalled that small gift of love that permeated their lives over
forty years ago.My eyes dampen in thanks as I recall the joy that filled my heart many times by their accomplishments. It was more than a birthday gift to me today, but a mature sense of gratitude.
"Give love" like you are scattering seeds and watch them produce. "Give love" to those you know and those you don't.When life seems futile and worthless, here is an antidote for the gloomies.
"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time, we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9
Heaven will reveal a lot of rewards to those who scatter seeds to those who are helpless and hopeless. What a dividend!
And this birthday was a special time to be reminded of this message again!
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Day is Done, Gone the Sun
Day is done, gone the sun
From the lake, from the hills,from the sky,
The sky could not have been bluer, nor the day brighter as the military men greeted the family who came to pay last respects to our Uncle Carl, a friend to many he had worked with in younger days. Glimpsing the flag at half-mast at the post office, we knew he was loved in this community of 350 where neighbors became family to him.
The gentle wind seemed to blow away our cares momentarily and remind us that this grave was not the end. This cemetery where one sister, Laura, is buried is not far from Dixie Carter either.
I recall his healthier days when we would walk this path and he would quote words he had memorized many years ago:
Remember friends as you pass by,
As you are now,so once was I.
As low as I, you once must be,
Prepare yourself and follow me.
The clear tone of the bugle brought memories of his father, Forrest Haerr, a Spanish American war veteran who served well and set a precedent for him in WWII and other family members later to serve in America proudly as a career.He was proud of this.
Moving to a health care was a huge step for him as life became more difficult and his frail body weaker. His words were,"I've gone as far as I can go."Praising him for this wisdom, he became more positive in adjusting. He soon was so content that he never questioned any needs.
In recent weeks he wanted a steak and baked potato and I brought it to him. He saw the cheese cake, and wanted it first and we decided, "Why not?" We partied.
Uncle Carl lived frugally and simply. He saved everything and maybe that is where some of us who are pack-rats inherited this Haerr trait.But in recent months, I talked to him about sharing his things. He was beginning to realize that life is more than possessions, and that there is joy in sharing.The two largest items in his home were the large looms. It did not take much convincing that the Carroll County Museum would be a good home. So with more than six men, they were dismantled, put back together and moved. Hundreds of school children will see them working again. His creative touch produced lovely scarves he wove and are now on display.
However, a light stroke or TIA on September twenty-ninth made swallowing food or meds difficult as well as speaking. He had already made his arrangements at Dilday-Carter Funeral Home in Huntingdon, TN.(You may still sign his guest register on-line.) If you are searching for a newspaper obituary, there is none, per his wish.
Services were held on Tuesday, October 16th with his Avalon Hospice chaplain, Dewayne Thomas speaking. He had become his pastor and their friendship brought him to peace with God. More than the physical care that they gave, Avalon became like a new family. If you care to show your appreciation, donations may be sent to Avalon Hospice 2023Greystone Square Jackson, TN 38305 in memory of Carl Haerr.
On this still fall day, the melody of the bugle sounded throughout the countryside in its melancholy strain that brought peace and rest. Its echoes linger in our hearts as we left and we headed back to his house to the luncheon shared by the girls of the Carroll Bank and the Missippi Mud Cake brought by the mayor. We gathered at his kitchen table, joined hands and spoke sentence prayers to the One who doeth all things well and remembered Uncle Carl.
All is well, safely rest,
God is nigh.
From the lake, from the hills,from the sky,
The sky could not have been bluer, nor the day brighter as the military men greeted the family who came to pay last respects to our Uncle Carl, a friend to many he had worked with in younger days. Glimpsing the flag at half-mast at the post office, we knew he was loved in this community of 350 where neighbors became family to him.
The gentle wind seemed to blow away our cares momentarily and remind us that this grave was not the end. This cemetery where one sister, Laura, is buried is not far from Dixie Carter either.
I recall his healthier days when we would walk this path and he would quote words he had memorized many years ago:
Remember friends as you pass by,
As you are now,so once was I.
As low as I, you once must be,
Prepare yourself and follow me.
The clear tone of the bugle brought memories of his father, Forrest Haerr, a Spanish American war veteran who served well and set a precedent for him in WWII and other family members later to serve in America proudly as a career.He was proud of this.
Moving to a health care was a huge step for him as life became more difficult and his frail body weaker. His words were,"I've gone as far as I can go."Praising him for this wisdom, he became more positive in adjusting. He soon was so content that he never questioned any needs.
In recent weeks he wanted a steak and baked potato and I brought it to him. He saw the cheese cake, and wanted it first and we decided, "Why not?" We partied.
Uncle Carl lived frugally and simply. He saved everything and maybe that is where some of us who are pack-rats inherited this Haerr trait.But in recent months, I talked to him about sharing his things. He was beginning to realize that life is more than possessions, and that there is joy in sharing.The two largest items in his home were the large looms. It did not take much convincing that the Carroll County Museum would be a good home. So with more than six men, they were dismantled, put back together and moved. Hundreds of school children will see them working again. His creative touch produced lovely scarves he wove and are now on display.
However, a light stroke or TIA on September twenty-ninth made swallowing food or meds difficult as well as speaking. He had already made his arrangements at Dilday-Carter Funeral Home in Huntingdon, TN.(You may still sign his guest register on-line.) If you are searching for a newspaper obituary, there is none, per his wish.
Services were held on Tuesday, October 16th with his Avalon Hospice chaplain, Dewayne Thomas speaking. He had become his pastor and their friendship brought him to peace with God. More than the physical care that they gave, Avalon became like a new family. If you care to show your appreciation, donations may be sent to Avalon Hospice 2023Greystone Square Jackson, TN 38305 in memory of Carl Haerr.
On this still fall day, the melody of the bugle sounded throughout the countryside in its melancholy strain that brought peace and rest. Its echoes linger in our hearts as we left and we headed back to his house to the luncheon shared by the girls of the Carroll Bank and the Missippi Mud Cake brought by the mayor. We gathered at his kitchen table, joined hands and spoke sentence prayers to the One who doeth all things well and remembered Uncle Carl.
All is well, safely rest,
God is nigh.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
OCTOBER'S BEST
Withe the glory of fall comes wonderful apples that make delectable desserts-like the apple cake I prepared for a new neighbor today.
I was greeted by the young Mom and her beautiful blond- headed toddler and the eight week old baby boy who let my arms cradle him.
I carried a gift for the new baby, but gave the little girl my attention first and handed her a gift bag with a new book.Delighted she was to have a gift of her own.
No family can hang out a sign that says, "Nothing the matter here."And from experiencing motherhood, I knew it was best not to show favoritism. Children quickly
recognize that and tension can develop even within the confines of a Christian home.
Looking back, how grateful I am for those who helped smooth my children's insecurities and spats, maybe some I didn't recognize at the time.
"Sistah Shouley" was one of those and "Granny Clement," another who loved on my children and gave them an inheritance of their faith.Single Aunt Lorene had as much wisdom as any Mom I knew. Now I see it demonstrated and passed on by my adult children to others, not only in their groups, but to any who may have missed the joy of the Lord.
It's like the aroma of the spice that fragrances my house when I pop that pie in the oven and it surrounds every corner of my household saturating each open place it can fill.
Thank you, Lord for October's Best.
I was greeted by the young Mom and her beautiful blond- headed toddler and the eight week old baby boy who let my arms cradle him.
I carried a gift for the new baby, but gave the little girl my attention first and handed her a gift bag with a new book.Delighted she was to have a gift of her own.
No family can hang out a sign that says, "Nothing the matter here."And from experiencing motherhood, I knew it was best not to show favoritism. Children quickly
recognize that and tension can develop even within the confines of a Christian home.
Looking back, how grateful I am for those who helped smooth my children's insecurities and spats, maybe some I didn't recognize at the time.
"Sistah Shouley" was one of those and "Granny Clement," another who loved on my children and gave them an inheritance of their faith.Single Aunt Lorene had as much wisdom as any Mom I knew. Now I see it demonstrated and passed on by my adult children to others, not only in their groups, but to any who may have missed the joy of the Lord.
It's like the aroma of the spice that fragrances my house when I pop that pie in the oven and it surrounds every corner of my household saturating each open place it can fill.
Thank you, Lord for October's Best.
Monday, September 24, 2012
NOT FOR SISSIES
NFS
Those letters in brilliant colors and size grabbed my tired eyes. I'm sure they have been there, but this gorgeous morning as I was exercising every muscle I could seize, they magnetized my mind.
Like one wondering their meaning (as if I had not seen them before), it was clear.
NOT FOR SISSIES
Back to reality, I know what the intention of my wonderful Curves meant. Their goal for me is to "be strong," which is why I'm so faithful to be there.
*Be strong to care for myself.
If I don't, no one else will. No matter how much family loves me, nor what they invest in me, I am responsible.
*Be strong so you can care for others.
A bottle of cold water placed in another hand on the opening day of Trevecca University with a warm welcome and wish that this would be a good year for Mom and her precious daughter seemed ordinary. Soon that happy moment was snatched away that same hour. Her husband had a fatal heart attack.
My Mother used to say, "Don't forget that everyone is facing some kind of battle."Others need your care.
*Be strong in caring for your life goals.
Like the wind, life passes by and we don't fulfill the goals which could have made a difference in our life. Some call it their "Bucket List."
I'm glad that I pursued my educational goals no matter the cost. It gave me a reason to fight the good fight.
My writing goals I must pursue daily even when I haven't heard from an editor. Don't die with your dreams still inside. My words for others may make a difference in someone's life.
So grab those letters and hang on to N F S for dear life and be a blessing.
Blessings,
Irmgard
I Corinthians 15:58
Thursday, August 30, 2012
BIRTHDAY JOY
The phone call should not have come as a surprise. But it did.
"Mom, Dad! Listen. Guess where I'm going tonight?"Our seventeen year old proudly said from her college dorm room. "I'm headed downtown to volunteer and help the homeless. It's so exciting!"
My heart sank as I heard my beautiful young seventeen year old daughter innocently connecting with these people. She could have volunteered for anything else, I pondered.I rationalized about the other safer opportunities this Christian college could have exposed her to.
My silence or long pause and lack of words kept her from hearing the affirmation she wanted to hear.
"Isn't this what we have done for years?"she questioned.
I hated to admit that. Each summer in recent years her two brothers had gone with us to some third world country where we'd work all morning before the beaming sun forced us to eat and rest.Then we'd spend the afternoon acquainting ourselves with the missionaries or native pastors who worked by our side."But Lord, " I reasoned, "We were in charge. We could protect her there."
Struggling for words, I changed the subject and hung up. I hated to squelch her enthusiasm, but this didn't seem like a good idea for her career.
The weeks went on. Our "little girl" was so involved that anything we said she would twist."Wasn't this what you tried to accomplish in Haiti or Dominican Republic? What's the difference between Nashville or Haiti or wherever?" echoed in my ears. "Don't they all need help?"
"So true, I knew!" She nailed us.
The months passed. Her professional goal in college was never mentioned although she volunteered at Room In the Inn even as it was birthed.As parents, we visited, not knowing if our intervention was appreciated.
However, during those early years, something was happening to her. Someone was mentoring her because they saw potential and maturity that as parents, we lived so close to her,we overlooked what God was birthing.She became more assertive and willingly shared her gifts and time while teaching full-time.What she had grasped in Haiti or at a mission was not taught in a class. Empathy was seeing the homeless not as faceless members, but as real individuals needing a place to belong. That she could process. It was not something that could not be bought or sold , nor learned in a textbook. She saw the homeless as helpless, vulnerable people, broken as she.
I only saw her actions as something she was doing rather than what God was equipping her to do. I didn't recognize her servant hands God was using.
Father, forgive me for wavering as I saw your will revealed in her life where she was far safer in Your will than anything I planned for her. I know You will take her to places I never dreamed of, and I will be glad.
And now, on the eve of her birthday over two decades later, I may be one of her best cheer-leaders watching many talents share within this community seeing needy hearts healed one by one.Thank God for the seeds sown by hundreds of volunteers and a host of staff members resulting in a great harvest of growth, changed lives, one by one.What a gift of love.
Like I said before-better than a Hallmark card, "I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord."plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
Happy Birthday Rachel! I love you dearly.
Mother
"Mom, Dad! Listen. Guess where I'm going tonight?"Our seventeen year old proudly said from her college dorm room. "I'm headed downtown to volunteer and help the homeless. It's so exciting!"
My heart sank as I heard my beautiful young seventeen year old daughter innocently connecting with these people. She could have volunteered for anything else, I pondered.I rationalized about the other safer opportunities this Christian college could have exposed her to.
My silence or long pause and lack of words kept her from hearing the affirmation she wanted to hear.
"Isn't this what we have done for years?"she questioned.
I hated to admit that. Each summer in recent years her two brothers had gone with us to some third world country where we'd work all morning before the beaming sun forced us to eat and rest.Then we'd spend the afternoon acquainting ourselves with the missionaries or native pastors who worked by our side."But Lord, " I reasoned, "We were in charge. We could protect her there."
Struggling for words, I changed the subject and hung up. I hated to squelch her enthusiasm, but this didn't seem like a good idea for her career.
The weeks went on. Our "little girl" was so involved that anything we said she would twist."Wasn't this what you tried to accomplish in Haiti or Dominican Republic? What's the difference between Nashville or Haiti or wherever?" echoed in my ears. "Don't they all need help?"
"So true, I knew!" She nailed us.
The months passed. Her professional goal in college was never mentioned although she volunteered at Room In the Inn even as it was birthed.As parents, we visited, not knowing if our intervention was appreciated.
However, during those early years, something was happening to her. Someone was mentoring her because they saw potential and maturity that as parents, we lived so close to her,we overlooked what God was birthing.She became more assertive and willingly shared her gifts and time while teaching full-time.What she had grasped in Haiti or at a mission was not taught in a class. Empathy was seeing the homeless not as faceless members, but as real individuals needing a place to belong. That she could process. It was not something that could not be bought or sold , nor learned in a textbook. She saw the homeless as helpless, vulnerable people, broken as she.
I only saw her actions as something she was doing rather than what God was equipping her to do. I didn't recognize her servant hands God was using.
Father, forgive me for wavering as I saw your will revealed in her life where she was far safer in Your will than anything I planned for her. I know You will take her to places I never dreamed of, and I will be glad.
And now, on the eve of her birthday over two decades later, I may be one of her best cheer-leaders watching many talents share within this community seeing needy hearts healed one by one.Thank God for the seeds sown by hundreds of volunteers and a host of staff members resulting in a great harvest of growth, changed lives, one by one.What a gift of love.
Like I said before-better than a Hallmark card, "I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord."plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
Happy Birthday Rachel! I love you dearly.
Mother
Thursday, August 9, 2012
To Everything There Is a Season
Three years ago my back deck needed repair, or whatever it took to make safe a wobbly insecure well-worn wooden deck. Down it came and a lovely new one was constucted that should last. I could visualize steps leading to my sloping back yard with a lovely crepe myrtle to accent it. I even had it planted by one who had a better green thumb than I.
And so for the last three years, I have pampered it, watched it carefully like an expectant mother would watch and wait for the first bloom.I begged for it to bloom as I had spent too much to see it dormant.
The lawn man came to mulch and I asked him for some encouragement and he said, "Miz, just leave it alone-in God's own time, it WILL bloom. Just watch what I say."
Well, August fourth arrived and I just happened to look out my window after Quiet Time, and I could not fathom what I was seeing. Above the deck rails, there was a colorful parade of blooms that I had not seen. I cried. I shouted for joy, all alone,but all I could hear were those gentle words -"in God's time."
As writers, we find ourself in waiting periods like these. We fret over our "babies" that we have written, been critiqued, been submitted umpteen times. In my study where I write, I have on the wall an article, "Dr. Seuss's first book was rejected (in large numerals) 27 times.
Next to it hangs an article "Dishing With Kathryn Stockett," She said her book, The Help, was sent to 60 literary agents before it was published!
What kept these people going? Stubborness, tenacity, or whatever it took prevailed.
Maybe it's the wisdom of Flannery O"Connor who said: "When a book (or manuscript) leaves your hand, it belongs to God. He may use it to save a few souls or to try a few others, but I think that for the writer to worry is to take over God's business."
Enough said...Thank you for those words. In God's time that overshadows the glorious hues of my little "late bloomer," a crepe myrtle which
reminded me of Your truth, so rich and beautiful. Maybe that is what Solomon meant in Ecclesiastes 3:1-"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." KJV
And so for the last three years, I have pampered it, watched it carefully like an expectant mother would watch and wait for the first bloom.I begged for it to bloom as I had spent too much to see it dormant.
The lawn man came to mulch and I asked him for some encouragement and he said, "Miz, just leave it alone-in God's own time, it WILL bloom. Just watch what I say."
Well, August fourth arrived and I just happened to look out my window after Quiet Time, and I could not fathom what I was seeing. Above the deck rails, there was a colorful parade of blooms that I had not seen. I cried. I shouted for joy, all alone,but all I could hear were those gentle words -"in God's time."
As writers, we find ourself in waiting periods like these. We fret over our "babies" that we have written, been critiqued, been submitted umpteen times. In my study where I write, I have on the wall an article, "Dr. Seuss's first book was rejected (in large numerals) 27 times.
Next to it hangs an article "Dishing With Kathryn Stockett," She said her book, The Help, was sent to 60 literary agents before it was published!
What kept these people going? Stubborness, tenacity, or whatever it took prevailed.
Maybe it's the wisdom of Flannery O"Connor who said: "When a book (or manuscript) leaves your hand, it belongs to God. He may use it to save a few souls or to try a few others, but I think that for the writer to worry is to take over God's business."
Enough said...Thank you for those words. In God's time that overshadows the glorious hues of my little "late bloomer," a crepe myrtle which
reminded me of Your truth, so rich and beautiful. Maybe that is what Solomon meant in Ecclesiastes 3:1-"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." KJV
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
FAREWELL JULY; WELCOME AUGUST
July 31 is already blowing August in our face.
*for my parents on this date, it meant the end of singleness and beginning of thirty-three years of marriage.
*end of pain and sickness for two precious friends in my Sunday School class who went to sleep and woke up in glory on Sunday.
*end of summer break and beginning of a bright new school year.
*retirement for some that ends years of hard work, but a new life of challenges and other ways to serve and make your time count for God.
*good by to the past hot thirsty days(we hope) and welcome to a clean slate with happy surprises that God has in store for His children.
The most exciting thing I can recall as a five year old who did not attend kindergarten was the yellow box of eight large crayons that I opened. Out came a radiance of bright colors and a spectacular aroma that spilled into my new world.
That fragrance is still fresh to me as a happy Gram and a retired teacher. I can't get away from the freshness and newness that flows.
Through your grace, I am born into optimism. It's going to be a good month.
Happy August!
And by the way, if you are not one of my FaceBook friends, you may not know that a new anthology came out yesterday by Tracy Ruckman and Suzanne Williams entitled Life Lessons From Teachers.One of my stories is there, "The Music of Mentoring."It is centered around the mentoring of my precious third grade teacher toward me. I whispered farewell and thanks to her in her hospice room in January. What a woman who cared all those years.(And I'm not a spring chicken.) We laughed and loved each time I visited her in Cincinnati. What a legacy.
Thanks for your comments. I would love to see them on this page.
You can purchase it from Amazon or me.
*for my parents on this date, it meant the end of singleness and beginning of thirty-three years of marriage.
*end of pain and sickness for two precious friends in my Sunday School class who went to sleep and woke up in glory on Sunday.
*end of summer break and beginning of a bright new school year.
*retirement for some that ends years of hard work, but a new life of challenges and other ways to serve and make your time count for God.
*good by to the past hot thirsty days(we hope) and welcome to a clean slate with happy surprises that God has in store for His children.
The most exciting thing I can recall as a five year old who did not attend kindergarten was the yellow box of eight large crayons that I opened. Out came a radiance of bright colors and a spectacular aroma that spilled into my new world.
That fragrance is still fresh to me as a happy Gram and a retired teacher. I can't get away from the freshness and newness that flows.
Through your grace, I am born into optimism. It's going to be a good month.
Happy August!
And by the way, if you are not one of my FaceBook friends, you may not know that a new anthology came out yesterday by Tracy Ruckman and Suzanne Williams entitled Life Lessons From Teachers.One of my stories is there, "The Music of Mentoring."It is centered around the mentoring of my precious third grade teacher toward me. I whispered farewell and thanks to her in her hospice room in January. What a woman who cared all those years.(And I'm not a spring chicken.) We laughed and loved each time I visited her in Cincinnati. What a legacy.
Thanks for your comments. I would love to see them on this page.
You can purchase it from Amazon or me.
Friday, July 27, 2012
STUFF
Odd title for a blog, but it's a word that all of us can acknowledge we have in different forms. Some fills our homes, our lives and even our minds.
One can attend a writers conference and probably you will find it enclosed in a class called "Where Do You Get Your Writing Ideas?"
This date, July 27th, set my mind spinning as I was reminded that this was the birth date of three wonderful women in my life.
Mother was born this date in the early 1900's to German immigrants who came to Cincinnati. Her impact on my life was monumental.
Another influential woman in my life who share this birth date was my third grade teacher who made an amazing difference in my progress. Through high school and college in different states, she mentored me. She even traveled to our home and school. My children became her pride and joy. I recall this past January whispering farewell to her in a hospice and thanked her again before she left this world.
I dreaded the first birthday after losing Mother. Determined that sadness would not steal my joy, I decided I would just invite someone out for lunch.That would help my mood. A retired college professor had just moved in the apartment next to me. She was known as a writer. Her most popular piece was "If Jesus Came To Your House." A life of retirement seemed promising for her and her husband;he died before they moved in. So she lived alone and reminisced of former happier days.That morning I knocked gently on her door and exchanged greetings. We chatted and then I popped the question, "Ms. Lois, I was wondering if you would like to have lunch with me today?"
"Well dear, you will not believe this, but I dreaded facing this day. This is my birthday and all of my children live far away.I really didn't have a thing planned."
Now back to the word, 'stuff.'
The first woman honored, my mother, became a story, "My Other Mothers" published in May in an anthology.
The story of my third grade teacher will be published as "The Music Of Mentoring" in August in Life Lines From Mothers by Suzanne Williams and Tracy Ruckman. Be watching for it and buy it from Amazon.
The third incident about the English professor became a story entitled "Birthday Gift"which is included in a book proposal now.
So when I think of 'stuff,' that arouses my emotions and gives me ammunition to write. Being away from the computer for a week has probably cleared the cobwebs and helped me be renewed to pull my thoughts together again.
And by the way, Dr. Seuss earned his place by using all kinds of 'stuff' he heard and saw and made his heart sing and challenged us to read. Take a walk or vacation and see how much 'stuff' you can collect to begin writing again.
One can attend a writers conference and probably you will find it enclosed in a class called "Where Do You Get Your Writing Ideas?"
This date, July 27th, set my mind spinning as I was reminded that this was the birth date of three wonderful women in my life.
Mother was born this date in the early 1900's to German immigrants who came to Cincinnati. Her impact on my life was monumental.
Another influential woman in my life who share this birth date was my third grade teacher who made an amazing difference in my progress. Through high school and college in different states, she mentored me. She even traveled to our home and school. My children became her pride and joy. I recall this past January whispering farewell to her in a hospice and thanked her again before she left this world.
I dreaded the first birthday after losing Mother. Determined that sadness would not steal my joy, I decided I would just invite someone out for lunch.That would help my mood. A retired college professor had just moved in the apartment next to me. She was known as a writer. Her most popular piece was "If Jesus Came To Your House." A life of retirement seemed promising for her and her husband;he died before they moved in. So she lived alone and reminisced of former happier days.That morning I knocked gently on her door and exchanged greetings. We chatted and then I popped the question, "Ms. Lois, I was wondering if you would like to have lunch with me today?"
"Well dear, you will not believe this, but I dreaded facing this day. This is my birthday and all of my children live far away.I really didn't have a thing planned."
Now back to the word, 'stuff.'
The first woman honored, my mother, became a story, "My Other Mothers" published in May in an anthology.
The story of my third grade teacher will be published as "The Music Of Mentoring" in August in Life Lines From Mothers by Suzanne Williams and Tracy Ruckman. Be watching for it and buy it from Amazon.
The third incident about the English professor became a story entitled "Birthday Gift"which is included in a book proposal now.
So when I think of 'stuff,' that arouses my emotions and gives me ammunition to write. Being away from the computer for a week has probably cleared the cobwebs and helped me be renewed to pull my thoughts together again.
And by the way, Dr. Seuss earned his place by using all kinds of 'stuff' he heard and saw and made his heart sing and challenged us to read. Take a walk or vacation and see how much 'stuff' you can collect to begin writing again.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Showers That Make A Difference
While we are experiencing some of the highest temperatures ever in Middle Tennessee(100-110 degrees,)it gives us a new meaning of words like drought, precipitation, and dryness that I usually associated with Haiti.
We're reminded of our dependence upon God who brings the wind and the rains and causes the seeds to grow and bring forth fruit.I can vividly recall the freshness of a spring shower that washes away the dust and brings a distinct freshness that lingers
Looking at the arid brown of our lawn and crops which aren't producing well makes me realize how much we need moisture from a sufficient rainfall to change that picture.Even my perennials are not abundant and bright because of the need for gentle showers.
An old hymn of the church, "Showers Of Blessings"renews the prayer of my heart.Lord, while we need rain, help me to see my need of Your blessings to refresh me and saturate my spirit. May others sense that I have been with You sipping the Water of Life that quickens my spirit and sweetens my life. And as I sit at your feet, may it show in my attitudes and words that come from my mouth and pen.Let it be a shower that makes a difference.
We're reminded of our dependence upon God who brings the wind and the rains and causes the seeds to grow and bring forth fruit.I can vividly recall the freshness of a spring shower that washes away the dust and brings a distinct freshness that lingers
Looking at the arid brown of our lawn and crops which aren't producing well makes me realize how much we need moisture from a sufficient rainfall to change that picture.Even my perennials are not abundant and bright because of the need for gentle showers.
An old hymn of the church, "Showers Of Blessings"renews the prayer of my heart.Lord, while we need rain, help me to see my need of Your blessings to refresh me and saturate my spirit. May others sense that I have been with You sipping the Water of Life that quickens my spirit and sweetens my life. And as I sit at your feet, may it show in my attitudes and words that come from my mouth and pen.Let it be a shower that makes a difference.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Nuggets That Linger
Nuggets That Linger
Full of good intentions as I left the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference, inwardly, I was blessed. Such a well-planned conference with the elite of published writers, I was excited. to use all that I had learned and been taught. Blessed with traveleing mercies for nearly six hours and the joy of meeting new friends filled my mind. Home, here I come.
However, a lingering illness in a loved one was important enough that the call from Hospice meant that I need to change suitcases and leave again in the morning another direction.My loved ones's needs were far more important.It isn't the first nor the last time that interruptions changed directions.
Not having access to a computer where I was headed caused me to give thought to digest and process what I learned. It helped to take away the sting of what I was facing.Maybe, this was important to how I would make application of the knowledge I gained.It actually came in bits and pieces, and thus I have written it that way.Some nuggets that were outstanding to me are below:
*' Ancient Words,' the lyrics which Michael W. Smith sings are fresh and never grow old.
*When we sing and pray and write, we write and worship.
*Keep a journal of God Moments.(Mine are included in the last 5 lines of my journal daily.)
*Be a voice of hope to someone today.
*Be sure you have a Quiet Time reserved each day for your day.
*If you've never failed, you've never lived.
"--------, what are you working on?" Be an encourager.
*See like Jesus saw.
*What you write about reveals who you are.
*Start leaving your legacy now.
*Don't put a period where God has put a comma.
*Don't be distracted by others.
*Be content with the way God has made you.
*Follow the One who can give you more than you can imagine.
*'Ancient Words, ever true
Changing me and changing you,
We have come with open hearts,
Oh, let the ancient words impart.'
Lord, thank you for the interruption.
Maybe this is the way you planned it for me.
Amen.
Full of good intentions as I left the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference, inwardly, I was blessed. Such a well-planned conference with the elite of published writers, I was excited. to use all that I had learned and been taught. Blessed with traveleing mercies for nearly six hours and the joy of meeting new friends filled my mind. Home, here I come.
However, a lingering illness in a loved one was important enough that the call from Hospice meant that I need to change suitcases and leave again in the morning another direction.My loved ones's needs were far more important.It isn't the first nor the last time that interruptions changed directions.
Not having access to a computer where I was headed caused me to give thought to digest and process what I learned. It helped to take away the sting of what I was facing.Maybe, this was important to how I would make application of the knowledge I gained.It actually came in bits and pieces, and thus I have written it that way.Some nuggets that were outstanding to me are below:
*' Ancient Words,' the lyrics which Michael W. Smith sings are fresh and never grow old.
*When we sing and pray and write, we write and worship.
*Keep a journal of God Moments.(Mine are included in the last 5 lines of my journal daily.)
*Be a voice of hope to someone today.
*Be sure you have a Quiet Time reserved each day for your day.
*If you've never failed, you've never lived.
"--------, what are you working on?" Be an encourager.
*See like Jesus saw.
*What you write about reveals who you are.
*Start leaving your legacy now.
*Don't put a period where God has put a comma.
*Don't be distracted by others.
*Be content with the way God has made you.
*Follow the One who can give you more than you can imagine.
*'Ancient Words, ever true
Changing me and changing you,
We have come with open hearts,
Oh, let the ancient words impart.'
Lord, thank you for the interruption.
Maybe this is the way you planned it for me.
Amen.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
The Rest of the Story...concerning Mother's Day
Growing up as a child, washing dishes was a lot less dreaded chore if we listened to the radio. My favorite newsman was Paul Harvey. Though I may not recall subject matter from those days as he spoke, I do recall The Rest of the Story segments which must have been valuable information.
In school I learned about Mother's Day, but didn't realize all the friction about its origin. I just assumed that Anna Jarvis was responsible.True it was that she was a motherly like lady who cared for the hurt and dying during the Civil War. However, she was not the originator of the idea to honor mothers.
And so The Rest of the Story states: Mother's Day was inaugurated by a single lady, Mary Towles Sasseen in 1887 at Center Street School in Henderson, KY where she served as principal. In 1893, she wrote and published a book entitled "Mother's Day." Its theme was the need of children setting aside a day in which to honor mothers. She enclosed programs to use and dedicated the book to her own deceased mother. Mother's Day observance grew as a result.
At the corner of Center and Green is a monument to commemorate her importance. When I moved to Henderson to teach, this was a wonderful short walking field trip to learn first hand about Miss Sasseen.
In 1904, Miss Sasseen married Judge Wilson of Pensacola, FL, but died two years later. She was returned to Fernwood Cemetery in Henderson for burial. Five years later the KY legislature passed a resolution officially recognizing Miss Sasseen as the pioneer in the Mother's Day field where it was organized and celebrated as early as 1888. Ann Jarvis also died. Thus, her daughter persuaded President Wilson to make this a national holiday.
Observances of Mother's Day grew to such proprtions following the Sixty Third Congress in Washington, DC that a president would have to agree that this was a good thing.
The Rest of the Story continues, whether Paul Harvey announces it or not.
Two women whether they had their share of credit or when they received it, had a mission in mind, that of honoring motherhood. Many unsung heroines of motherhood who never bore a child have died without ever being recognized. Whisper encouragement or sweet thoughts of affirmation to someone who has blessed you on your journey, or while you still have time, call your own Mother to tell her how much you love her.
From my heart to yours, have a wonderful Mother's Day and God bless you as you honor motherhood.
In school I learned about Mother's Day, but didn't realize all the friction about its origin. I just assumed that Anna Jarvis was responsible.True it was that she was a motherly like lady who cared for the hurt and dying during the Civil War. However, she was not the originator of the idea to honor mothers.
And so The Rest of the Story states: Mother's Day was inaugurated by a single lady, Mary Towles Sasseen in 1887 at Center Street School in Henderson, KY where she served as principal. In 1893, she wrote and published a book entitled "Mother's Day." Its theme was the need of children setting aside a day in which to honor mothers. She enclosed programs to use and dedicated the book to her own deceased mother. Mother's Day observance grew as a result.
At the corner of Center and Green is a monument to commemorate her importance. When I moved to Henderson to teach, this was a wonderful short walking field trip to learn first hand about Miss Sasseen.
In 1904, Miss Sasseen married Judge Wilson of Pensacola, FL, but died two years later. She was returned to Fernwood Cemetery in Henderson for burial. Five years later the KY legislature passed a resolution officially recognizing Miss Sasseen as the pioneer in the Mother's Day field where it was organized and celebrated as early as 1888. Ann Jarvis also died. Thus, her daughter persuaded President Wilson to make this a national holiday.
Observances of Mother's Day grew to such proprtions following the Sixty Third Congress in Washington, DC that a president would have to agree that this was a good thing.
The Rest of the Story continues, whether Paul Harvey announces it or not.
Two women whether they had their share of credit or when they received it, had a mission in mind, that of honoring motherhood. Many unsung heroines of motherhood who never bore a child have died without ever being recognized. Whisper encouragement or sweet thoughts of affirmation to someone who has blessed you on your journey, or while you still have time, call your own Mother to tell her how much you love her.
From my heart to yours, have a wonderful Mother's Day and God bless you as you honor motherhood.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Grab the Shears and Get to Pruning
The knock-out roses that border my front walk are gorgeous. As an amateur gardener, I got really care-free pruning those bushes early this spring. It is a wonder I didn't kill them.
Just as I need God to prune my life occasionally to keep me in shape (John 15:1-6), most all plants need some pruning early.There are many reasons to prune:
* pruning creates a more attractive, well formed plant.
*it increases plant growth by stimulating new growth.
*actually, it increases the quality of the flower.
*it allows rejuvenation to revive their vigor.
No wonder I pause each time I walk by those roses. They remind me of times when I have had some writing disappointments and cut-backs when I get a rejection letter.
I can't see what's ahead, but maybe when I rewrite that same manuscript, it appears like a new bloom, full and vibrant.I keep a file marked "re-write,"too good to discard, but just needs pruned.
If I prune wrong, I may lose the plant. Knowing the specific plant and how to prune it gives me direction. Knowing the right markets to sell a manuscript is important, so I need to study them to know where to sell.
Knowing when to prune is important. I may kill some plants if I prune at the wrong time, but I may get some wonderful results if I prune at the right time.When holidays come, capture the spirit and write the manuscript while you have the inspiration. Write it down and polish it later. Send holiday material at least a year ahead if you want to see it published.
So grab the shears and get to pruning. There may be something beautiful that you haven't yet discovered.
Just as I need God to prune my life occasionally to keep me in shape (John 15:1-6), most all plants need some pruning early.There are many reasons to prune:
* pruning creates a more attractive, well formed plant.
*it increases plant growth by stimulating new growth.
*actually, it increases the quality of the flower.
*it allows rejuvenation to revive their vigor.
No wonder I pause each time I walk by those roses. They remind me of times when I have had some writing disappointments and cut-backs when I get a rejection letter.
I can't see what's ahead, but maybe when I rewrite that same manuscript, it appears like a new bloom, full and vibrant.I keep a file marked "re-write,"too good to discard, but just needs pruned.
If I prune wrong, I may lose the plant. Knowing the specific plant and how to prune it gives me direction. Knowing the right markets to sell a manuscript is important, so I need to study them to know where to sell.
Knowing when to prune is important. I may kill some plants if I prune at the wrong time, but I may get some wonderful results if I prune at the right time.When holidays come, capture the spirit and write the manuscript while you have the inspiration. Write it down and polish it later. Send holiday material at least a year ahead if you want to see it published.
So grab the shears and get to pruning. There may be something beautiful that you haven't yet discovered.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
A Big Winner
End of the month-came so quickly that I have trouble retracing what I have done, where I have been,and what I have accomplished that was important-midst the Final Four Winners.
It's that feeling I get when I face New Year's Eve. A new perspective is put on what I write. Actually, most writers write about what they know. So when I have known pain from wounds or bruises, I can do one of two things, become bitter or better. I can become one who succumbs or one who blesses.
A few years ago I met a lady who visited our writing group. She was on a mission to share her heart and the the Word in places where my writing would never go. And even in her last two years when cancer invaded her body and wracked it with pain, she continued to write and our group would critique. She knew the Source and spread encouragement to those who needed her message of hope the most. She didn't have to win an "Amy Award";she just aimed to be faithful.
Some of her final words to me a few days ago were ones of thanks for seeing this seed planted and helping her do it.
This morning my friend faced the words from II Timothy 4:7:
"I have fought the good fight, I have kept the faith, I have finished the race" and she went on to meet God.
We may never accomplish what Dee did in her short writing career, but she used the time she had to be effective and let her life count for God through words. What accountability that was.
Thanks Dee for sharing Jesus with others. You have been a bright light and reminded us to "write the message clearly on tablets so that all may understand." (Habakkuk 2:2) And for that, you are a winner. You will be missed, Dee. See you later...
It's that feeling I get when I face New Year's Eve. A new perspective is put on what I write. Actually, most writers write about what they know. So when I have known pain from wounds or bruises, I can do one of two things, become bitter or better. I can become one who succumbs or one who blesses.
A few years ago I met a lady who visited our writing group. She was on a mission to share her heart and the the Word in places where my writing would never go. And even in her last two years when cancer invaded her body and wracked it with pain, she continued to write and our group would critique. She knew the Source and spread encouragement to those who needed her message of hope the most. She didn't have to win an "Amy Award";she just aimed to be faithful.
Some of her final words to me a few days ago were ones of thanks for seeing this seed planted and helping her do it.
This morning my friend faced the words from II Timothy 4:7:
"I have fought the good fight, I have kept the faith, I have finished the race" and she went on to meet God.
We may never accomplish what Dee did in her short writing career, but she used the time she had to be effective and let her life count for God through words. What accountability that was.
Thanks Dee for sharing Jesus with others. You have been a bright light and reminded us to "write the message clearly on tablets so that all may understand." (Habakkuk 2:2) And for that, you are a winner. You will be missed, Dee. See you later...
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Simply Little
Sometimes little is more. Sounds like an oxymoron and maybe it is.
The few words written on a man's personal notepad and sent to a group of wiggly primary children hundreds of miles away whom he would never meet, arrived on a windy March day.When the children saw that envelope from LaJolla, California, they knew it was the home of Dr. Seuss.
It was actually a thank you note for all of the birthday cards he had received from them on his eighty-fifth birthday from a small city school in Kentucky. These children were blessed to hear by age six some of the wonderful books that made up the six million copies of books he sold and many of us were introduced to. Imagine a world without books written by Dr. Seuss aka Theodore Seuss Geisel. He had a difficult time breaking into print until Vanguard Press took a chance on him and published And To Think I Saw It On Mulberry Street in 1937- after twenty seven attempts.
I actually get sentimental about some of the simple things he wrote that are easy to relate to:
"A person's a person no matter how small."
"The more that you read, the more things you will know."
"The more you learn, the more places you'll go."
I liked him so well that I wrote curriculum using his books that gave children opportunities to laugh, make goals and dream of their future. My children called him a friend.
This just fueled their fire for reading as they received a copy of the note to keep and an explanation for their parents.
A few years later, Dr. Seuss died and they sent notes to console Mrs. Geisel. She also acknowledged their concern. So this note was also sent and thus they grew up with an author who was meaningful to them.
I marvel that one of the greatest children writers of all times took a moment to encourage and gift some little children he would never see. I almost sense him whisper:
"Don't cry when it's over. Smile because it happened."
Few words so simply written that most of us can smile. What a writer.What a gift of legacy.
Lord, help me to weigh my words and share something of value not caring where they lodge.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
The Right Delivery
I drove to the Rehab Center to brighten my friend's day on this Valentine's Day. There I found a van that was way too familiar to me-filled to capacity overflowing with fragrant flowers, bursting buds of charismatic colors that would make some one happy.
I stuck my head casually in the open door and laughingly said to the lady, "I thought of you this morning,"(tongue in cheek)as I rehearsed former days when I would stay up nearly all night preparing for this special occasion.
"I hope this is a smooth painless day as you deliver and make folks happy." I quickly left-nearly blessed. I really felt that way as I recall breathing that prayer many times when snow storms and icy roads overpowered delivery. Deliveries had to be perfect to keep customers. I recall one time that a clerk in her hastiness enclosed a sympathy card instead of the Happy Valentine's Day card. Embarrassed for sure.
Finding the right words and delivering the bouquets were just as important as anything I had to say or write.It still is today when I've said something and received a frown. Or wrote something teasingly and heard an earful.
The other night Austin fell from a small kitchen stool and in trying to catch him from re-breaking his arm, he was sad at my urgency and his gentle spirit was crushed. "I'm sorry, Austin. I didn't mean to hurt you," as I took him in my arms and carressed him.
Oh, my feeble words. Lord, help me to choose them wisely, so I don't hurt anyone in reading my thoughts, intentionally or by just an inflection of the right words wrongly used.Oh Lord, remind me to pray, "Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart Be acceptable in Your sight.(Psalms 19:14)and let the message be the right delivery.
I stuck my head casually in the open door and laughingly said to the lady, "I thought of you this morning,"(tongue in cheek)as I rehearsed former days when I would stay up nearly all night preparing for this special occasion.
"I hope this is a smooth painless day as you deliver and make folks happy." I quickly left-nearly blessed. I really felt that way as I recall breathing that prayer many times when snow storms and icy roads overpowered delivery. Deliveries had to be perfect to keep customers. I recall one time that a clerk in her hastiness enclosed a sympathy card instead of the Happy Valentine's Day card. Embarrassed for sure.
Finding the right words and delivering the bouquets were just as important as anything I had to say or write.It still is today when I've said something and received a frown. Or wrote something teasingly and heard an earful.
The other night Austin fell from a small kitchen stool and in trying to catch him from re-breaking his arm, he was sad at my urgency and his gentle spirit was crushed. "I'm sorry, Austin. I didn't mean to hurt you," as I took him in my arms and carressed him.
Oh, my feeble words. Lord, help me to choose them wisely, so I don't hurt anyone in reading my thoughts, intentionally or by just an inflection of the right words wrongly used.Oh Lord, remind me to pray, "Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart Be acceptable in Your sight.(Psalms 19:14)and let the message be the right delivery.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
A Winter Guest
I love guests. All kinds especially those who love Southern cooking and don't use "the white glove test" to check out my housekeeping. But guests come in all colors, shapes and sizes-no "cookie cutter" kind if they take advantage of my guest room, formerly called "the prophet's chamber." I used to entertain the General Superintendents down to those-well that's another story.
Late 70's, it was when a snowstorm disabled our area. An evangelist from England who had once spoken for our church called when he heard that his speaking engagements had been cancelled for two weeks. After sharing his dilemma, my husband welcomed him. Our young sons were delighted as this man played ping- pong with them. Little did they know this man's credentials nor how important he was across America. Dr. Albert J. Lown soon made himself handy by shoveling a path through the snow from the parsonage to the church. He found children in pre-school and sat in the circle reciting nursery rhymes with them as only he could do.
Dr. Lown had a lot of qualities I admired-like afternoon tea where we got acquainted with the tender heart of a man who missed his dear Marion and children in Keighley, England. And then he asked me an unexpected question,"And what do you write?"
How he knew that I did write surprised me, but he expected that from teachers. "Would you share a manuscript?"That day marked the first time I had a gentle critique of an author. Had I known the extent of this man's talent, I would have hesitated. But what he did to inspire me was to pursue a market for it immediately as I rewrote.
I wish that I had saved the beautiful hand-written letters he sent my young sons through their school life and even as the older son married, a note that sounded more like a Hallmark card.
Mentor was what he became to me. And now in my little writing nook, his picture stands on top of one of his own books, PORTRAITS OF FAITH. Dr. Lown who had a widespread ministry on both sides of the Atlantic as an evangelistic speaker in camps, campuses and churches, also knew a tremendous scope of values in the simpler things. Like Paul, he saw beyond what his eyes beheld and kept me accountable. "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for."
Thanks, Dr. Lown, for your vision of encouraging and mentoring someone who needed that gentle nudge to pursue in the right direction-even on a bitter winter day, I am forever grateful.
Late 70's, it was when a snowstorm disabled our area. An evangelist from England who had once spoken for our church called when he heard that his speaking engagements had been cancelled for two weeks. After sharing his dilemma, my husband welcomed him. Our young sons were delighted as this man played ping- pong with them. Little did they know this man's credentials nor how important he was across America. Dr. Albert J. Lown soon made himself handy by shoveling a path through the snow from the parsonage to the church. He found children in pre-school and sat in the circle reciting nursery rhymes with them as only he could do.
Dr. Lown had a lot of qualities I admired-like afternoon tea where we got acquainted with the tender heart of a man who missed his dear Marion and children in Keighley, England. And then he asked me an unexpected question,"And what do you write?"
How he knew that I did write surprised me, but he expected that from teachers. "Would you share a manuscript?"That day marked the first time I had a gentle critique of an author. Had I known the extent of this man's talent, I would have hesitated. But what he did to inspire me was to pursue a market for it immediately as I rewrote.
I wish that I had saved the beautiful hand-written letters he sent my young sons through their school life and even as the older son married, a note that sounded more like a Hallmark card.
Mentor was what he became to me. And now in my little writing nook, his picture stands on top of one of his own books, PORTRAITS OF FAITH. Dr. Lown who had a widespread ministry on both sides of the Atlantic as an evangelistic speaker in camps, campuses and churches, also knew a tremendous scope of values in the simpler things. Like Paul, he saw beyond what his eyes beheld and kept me accountable. "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for."
Thanks, Dr. Lown, for your vision of encouraging and mentoring someone who needed that gentle nudge to pursue in the right direction-even on a bitter winter day, I am forever grateful.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Hope For 2012
Being a "child at heart," I have been thrilled that our family has had a younger grandchild around us as our other grandchildren mature. So Austin has had a lot of attention as we all help him learn. Teaching him directions, new words, how to read mileage signs, etc., one day he calmly said as I drove, "Gram, if you will just "focus"you can find your way." Good advice from a six year old, but for the the Advent season we have just met face to face, that is the message.
In the midst of the season, we looked for miracles and we even created them to see good things happen. . Maybe, those nativity scenes we placed in our homes helped keep us more focused on the reality that God wants to work miracles in our lives.
Perhaps, this year that word, focus, can keep us centered on Christ and energize us as we felt ChristmasEve. In the midst of chaos or just our daily decisions, God challenges us to focus on the positive. If trouble or set-backs come, focus. Follow the star that leads to Christ and keep the faith.
Focus on His grace and peace,
Irmgard
In the midst of the season, we looked for miracles and we even created them to see good things happen. . Maybe, those nativity scenes we placed in our homes helped keep us more focused on the reality that God wants to work miracles in our lives.
Perhaps, this year that word, focus, can keep us centered on Christ and energize us as we felt ChristmasEve. In the midst of chaos or just our daily decisions, God challenges us to focus on the positive. If trouble or set-backs come, focus. Follow the star that leads to Christ and keep the faith.
Focus on His grace and peace,
Irmgard
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