I've had a very busy week...both my sisters have been up to see me this week, and I have been down there to see them and my Aunt and Uncle. Chase enjoyed playing with his cousin, Carson, who is beginning to be able to hold his own. Will get back to regular posts this week, maybe...
This is the week that the Lord has made, I rejoice and am glad in it.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Busy Week
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Godly Heritage
by: Sista CalaThe text for today's post is IITimothy 1:5-7.
5When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice; and I am persuaded that in thee also.
6Wherefore I put thee in remembrance that thou stir up the gift of God, which is in thee by the putting on of my hands.
7For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
As a young pastor, Timothy had much to learn about dealing with the business of the church. His inexperience no doubt could lead to frustration. The Apostle Paul sent these words of encouragement along with various instructions concerning the ministry. Verses 3 and 4 speak of Paul's concern and prayer for his beloved son.
The part that strikes a chord in me is the last phrase of verse 5. Paul recognized and affirmed the faith that was in Timothy. He compared that faith to that of his mother and grandmother. Like Timothy, I too have a godly heritage. My great-grandmother was instrumental in the founding of my home church. She and grand-daddy were charter members. They raised 7 children who followed in the faith, one of which was my Granny Coy. My mother was her oldest child; she too walked with God.
My sister has revealed in this blog some of the difficulties we faced as we were growing up. Yet in the hard times we clung to our faith in God, that faith that first dwelt in our grandmother and our mother. They taught and trained us from birth. They put the Word of God into us. The lavished us with their prayers. They infused our lives with faith.
When trials come, when circumstances are out of my control, when the nights are filled with tears, when questions abound, I draw upon the memories of those saintly women. I have often remarked that I am not made of the same stuff my mother was.
Today, I want to take it back. I am made of the same stuff, by the same Creator, and I have the same faith. I have power, love, and a sound mind. Thanks be to God and Momma.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Who I Am (The Sequel)
I don't know what possessed me to start taking out the old pictures and start scanning them into the computer, but a flood of memories followed that has sidetracked my entire day. Not really in the mood for working, I rummaged through the albums and clippings. It's hard for me to accept that over 41 years have passed since I was born, but the proof is in the pictures.
A lot has happened to shape who I am in those 41 years. I'm still the introvert who prefers silence and books to parties and hobnobbing. I do not know if my shyness came from always keeping quiet about my home life or if it was because I felt I had nothing to say. I do have some good memories, as you know if you read my post about who I am. But I also know that I always feared that the Department of Human Services would come and drag us away from our home if they found out some of the things we went through. We were always fed and clothed and rarely in physical danger. But emotionally, we went through some very rough times.
Imagine a child, three children, having to sort through the unglamorous details of their father's addiction. Imagine them having to weigh their love for him against all the things he did when out of control on a binge. Imagine never knowing what condition you would find him in when you awoke in the morning, not knowing whether you could be yourself, or if you would have to tiptoe on eggshells to appease the demons inside him. Imagine carrying the burden in secret and trying to maintain a normal life at school, at church, and in public. Imagine the angst of my mother, trying to hold it all together on what money she could manage to keep him from spending. Imagine your mother serving you a hot breakfast and looking up to see bruises, scratches, and a look of weariness and sorrow in her eyes, leaving you to wonder what exactly had transpired throughout the night. Or worse yet, imagine knowing exactly what did happen and not being able to stop it.
Now take this picture and put it along side the previous post, entitled "Who I Am." It's no wonder there are two completely different facets to my personality. It's no wonder that some mornings I wake up a completely different girl than the one who went to bed. It's no wonder that people find it hard to get to know me, and those who know me say sometimes I have multiple personalities. I have never been diagnosed with that disorder, don't get me wrong. I do not have people inside me arguing over who is going to take over today. But I do struggle with who exactly I am and who I am becoming every single day of my life.
I do tend to be overly emotional and sensitive. I am too serious, too introverted, too philosophical. I do have trouble loosening up and having fun. I have problems reaching out and making new friends--and worse yet, keeping them, because I end up withdrawing during the hard times. And at times I have been told I am bitter and hard, uncaring, brutally honest, and cutting. When I am on a roll, the sarcasm flows like river. Dark and angry sarcasm. Brooding and negative. Sad and dejected. These are the feelings I fight.
Instead, on my good days I force myself into thinking positive thoughts--loving thoughts with kind and gentle words. I make myself find the good in things and delegate the bad to an empty backseat. I tell it to be quiet, to just keep its mouth shut and no one will know. And yet, for all that, I still can hear it mumbling from the backseat, telling me how to drive and where to turn. I hear the rumblings from my past telling me I can't. I have learned that you end up in some very rocky places in life when you let the past control your destiny. It's only when I turn loose of the wheel, and let God take control...that's when who I really am comes shining through.
God sees me--the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the past, present, and future. He alone knows what pictures will fill the album's last pages. He alone knows where the journey ends. He has a reason and purpose for everything and everyone in life. By His words the worlds were formed and the seas. By His hand I was fashioned in my mother's womb. He knows every thought, every intention, every motivation, every deed. And it's good to know that his mercy endures forever. Compared to that, 41 does not seem that old, now does it?
A lot has happened to shape who I am in those 41 years. I'm still the introvert who prefers silence and books to parties and hobnobbing. I do not know if my shyness came from always keeping quiet about my home life or if it was because I felt I had nothing to say. I do have some good memories, as you know if you read my post about who I am. But I also know that I always feared that the Department of Human Services would come and drag us away from our home if they found out some of the things we went through. We were always fed and clothed and rarely in physical danger. But emotionally, we went through some very rough times.
Imagine a child, three children, having to sort through the unglamorous details of their father's addiction. Imagine them having to weigh their love for him against all the things he did when out of control on a binge. Imagine never knowing what condition you would find him in when you awoke in the morning, not knowing whether you could be yourself, or if you would have to tiptoe on eggshells to appease the demons inside him. Imagine carrying the burden in secret and trying to maintain a normal life at school, at church, and in public. Imagine the angst of my mother, trying to hold it all together on what money she could manage to keep him from spending. Imagine your mother serving you a hot breakfast and looking up to see bruises, scratches, and a look of weariness and sorrow in her eyes, leaving you to wonder what exactly had transpired throughout the night. Or worse yet, imagine knowing exactly what did happen and not being able to stop it.
Now take this picture and put it along side the previous post, entitled "Who I Am." It's no wonder there are two completely different facets to my personality. It's no wonder that some mornings I wake up a completely different girl than the one who went to bed. It's no wonder that people find it hard to get to know me, and those who know me say sometimes I have multiple personalities. I have never been diagnosed with that disorder, don't get me wrong. I do not have people inside me arguing over who is going to take over today. But I do struggle with who exactly I am and who I am becoming every single day of my life.
I do tend to be overly emotional and sensitive. I am too serious, too introverted, too philosophical. I do have trouble loosening up and having fun. I have problems reaching out and making new friends--and worse yet, keeping them, because I end up withdrawing during the hard times. And at times I have been told I am bitter and hard, uncaring, brutally honest, and cutting. When I am on a roll, the sarcasm flows like river. Dark and angry sarcasm. Brooding and negative. Sad and dejected. These are the feelings I fight.
Instead, on my good days I force myself into thinking positive thoughts--loving thoughts with kind and gentle words. I make myself find the good in things and delegate the bad to an empty backseat. I tell it to be quiet, to just keep its mouth shut and no one will know. And yet, for all that, I still can hear it mumbling from the backseat, telling me how to drive and where to turn. I hear the rumblings from my past telling me I can't. I have learned that you end up in some very rocky places in life when you let the past control your destiny. It's only when I turn loose of the wheel, and let God take control...that's when who I really am comes shining through.
God sees me--the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the past, present, and future. He alone knows what pictures will fill the album's last pages. He alone knows where the journey ends. He has a reason and purpose for everything and everyone in life. By His words the worlds were formed and the seas. By His hand I was fashioned in my mother's womb. He knows every thought, every intention, every motivation, every deed. And it's good to know that his mercy endures forever. Compared to that, 41 does not seem that old, now does it?
Monday, April 23, 2007
Men
**This is only an opinion of which I am entitled to. If you are offended by the word "penis," stop reading now. If you are male, stop reading now. LOL.
I never had a brother, so understanding guys is a bit of a mystery to me. Now my immediate family consists of a son and a husband, both of which are so much alike and equally hard to figure out that at times I feel out numbered in my own home. They practically have convinced me that there's two channels on the t.v.--ESPN and Disney. The intricate love life of Erica Cain is but a faint memory now, which I'm not so sure is a bad thing.
One thing I've noticed about men is that they rarely notice the floor. It does not matter how spotless it may have been at one time, if they have mud, oil, gum, or dog poo on the bottom of their shoes, it's no big deal. Into the house it comes. It does not matter if you have a hamper for dirty clothes in every room, when you wake up in the morning, you will find dirty underwear most anywhere. They have the uncanny ability to walk over almost anything without tripping or picking it up, but heaven forbid they find their shoes. They're most likely in plain sight, but still I get this question almost every Sunday as we are running late to get to church, "Have you seen my shoes?" Why is it that men appear to be blind to anything from the waist down?
I know this to be true, because too many times my boys have tried to leave the house with socks that either don't match their pants or their shoes. Or their pants don't match their shirt. They never notice untied shoe laces or dirt on their behinds or cuffs, and rarely do they realize their flies are unzipped. And as for the adult male, too many times have I experienced the phenomenon of pupils being fixated on my chest. I don't think a man would ever notice if I had mismatched shoes or socks.
Which leads me to that old saying about men thinking with their penises. Or being led around by them. No wonder they can't multitask or read maps. No wonder women have such a hard time figuring men out. We don't have one. No wonder we can't relate to the need to scratch in public. No wonder they can't understand our need to stop at filling stations instead of peeing beside the road. I'm amazed they ever find their way to a bathroom--or out of the bedroom for that matter. No wonder they have such a hard time understanding us women...they're using the wrong organ. Use your hearts guys. You might be surprised to find it leads to some of the same places with much better results. And your shoes...well they're right where you left them.
p.s. If you want them to do something, just tell them not to...hence, the warning at the top. LOL
I never had a brother, so understanding guys is a bit of a mystery to me. Now my immediate family consists of a son and a husband, both of which are so much alike and equally hard to figure out that at times I feel out numbered in my own home. They practically have convinced me that there's two channels on the t.v.--ESPN and Disney. The intricate love life of Erica Cain is but a faint memory now, which I'm not so sure is a bad thing.
One thing I've noticed about men is that they rarely notice the floor. It does not matter how spotless it may have been at one time, if they have mud, oil, gum, or dog poo on the bottom of their shoes, it's no big deal. Into the house it comes. It does not matter if you have a hamper for dirty clothes in every room, when you wake up in the morning, you will find dirty underwear most anywhere. They have the uncanny ability to walk over almost anything without tripping or picking it up, but heaven forbid they find their shoes. They're most likely in plain sight, but still I get this question almost every Sunday as we are running late to get to church, "Have you seen my shoes?" Why is it that men appear to be blind to anything from the waist down?
I know this to be true, because too many times my boys have tried to leave the house with socks that either don't match their pants or their shoes. Or their pants don't match their shirt. They never notice untied shoe laces or dirt on their behinds or cuffs, and rarely do they realize their flies are unzipped. And as for the adult male, too many times have I experienced the phenomenon of pupils being fixated on my chest. I don't think a man would ever notice if I had mismatched shoes or socks.
Which leads me to that old saying about men thinking with their penises. Or being led around by them. No wonder they can't multitask or read maps. No wonder women have such a hard time figuring men out. We don't have one. No wonder we can't relate to the need to scratch in public. No wonder they can't understand our need to stop at filling stations instead of peeing beside the road. I'm amazed they ever find their way to a bathroom--or out of the bedroom for that matter. No wonder they have such a hard time understanding us women...they're using the wrong organ. Use your hearts guys. You might be surprised to find it leads to some of the same places with much better results. And your shoes...well they're right where you left them.
p.s. If you want them to do something, just tell them not to...hence, the warning at the top. LOL
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Todays' Sermon
Today's sermon was about Paul and the thorn in the flesh and about how he prayed for God to remove it from his life, because it was an annoyance to him--a hindrance, a pain in the behind, if you will. What was God's answer? 1 Corinthians 12:8-10.
8Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. 10That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
Sometimes it feels our prayers are ineffective. Sometimes we just want to run away from it all, get away from whatever it is that is pricking us in the side, annoying us, or just plain causing us pain. We don't understand why God won't just intervene and remove the splinter, the thorn, the cause of our suffering. What did God tell Paul? My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness. You see, as Christians, we have a beautiful rose garden at our disposal...this wonderful life he has given us. But it is not without thorns. What are the purpose of a rose's thorns then, you may wonder?
According to Wikipedia, they are actually spines. "Spines are the ends of branches or leafs, that have been modified into rounded, hard structures with sharp ends. They are often also called thorns, which are reduced, sharp pointed stems. Spines are used by plants to protect themselves from herbivores. Some plants with spines and animals that feed on them, have co-evolved in response to each other, with some plants having very long spines and the animals that feed on those species having long tongues to reach past the spines to feed on the leaves."
They are for protection to the rose. Now if we follow the analogy of the rose garden being the life Christ has given us, then the thorns are there to protect that life...and we should carefully guard that life from being crushed or damaged, as it is very fragile...but beautiful, fragrant, and perfect. The thorns that prick us are there to remind us that it is precious. They are there to help shape our actions, to remind us that the stem that has all the spiny thorns is a support for the beautiful bloom that follows. From this spiny stem emerges something wonderful...in due time. If we allow his Grace to have its perfect work in us.
So instead of praying to have those removed, perhaps we should spend our time thanking him that he cares enough not to. Reminds me of that saying, "Tough Love." Sometimes God's "tough love" is painful. Sometimes we think we can't endure. But we can be overcomers. We can come out on the other side with something precious and sweet smelling to God. Truly His grace is sufficient.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
A Reminder
The following post is actually a couple of excerpts from my personal journal dated Thursday, July 28, 1988.
Lord,
Help me to see You and Your vision for my life a clearly as the pebbles at the bottom of a mountain tream. Don't let me rush past it toward the infinite oceans of this world. But let me take time for the simple pleasure of waiting before you--wading in the cool, comforting water your Spirit brings to my life.
Let me breathe the mist from the mountaintops and know that Your same breath drops dew to water the wild flowers in the valleys of our lives to feed the grazing deer.
Help me realize that You can create tunnels through the rocky places, and that though the way is steep, You guard our feet from falling--if we hold your hand.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lord,
In your sweet, gentle, quiet loving way--
Take my life--
Break it into fragments
If you must;
If it will satisfy the hunger
Of lost souls, if it will bring them
Into Your kingdom,
Into Your loving arms.
Let me be willing, Lord
To serve as strength for the needy.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
These words were written nearly 20 years ago. And today, God brought them back to mind. Looking back over the last 10 years, I can see the hand of God answering, molding, shaping, breaking, and reworking this humble piece of clay. Every trial, every tear, every heart ache--a purpose. God, I'm sorry I did not see. Thank You for reminding me.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
And Now Abideth Faith
As children we sang a song entitled "Father Abraham". It was one of those action songs that lasted forever. Similar to the "Twelve Days of Christmas", each verse added another action. The final verse went like this: "Father Abraham had many sons. Many sons had father Abraham. I am one of them and so are you. So let's just praise the Lord. Right arm, left arm, right foot, left foot, head forward, head back, turn around, and sit down." Makes me tired just typing it all, but it was fun back then. We would give it all we had. Just like we should give our praise- with all we have.
The short account of Abraham is found in the fourth chapter of Romans. The 18th verse reads thus: "Who against hope believed in hope, that he might become the father of many nations, according to that which was spoken, So shall thy seed be." We understand that Abraham believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness. Simply put; what Abraham called faith, God called righteousness.
The following is a loose paraphrase for the remainder of the chapter. Now Abraham had every confidence that God would grant to him all that had been promised. This account has been recorded not for Abraham only but for all who truly believe the promises of God. All who believe in the crucified and resurrected Christ possess and exercise faith. When God looks upon the believer's faith, He equates it with righteousness.
Can't stop there! Romans 5:1,2 "Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in the hope of the glory of God."
Yes, our righteousness is as filthy rags in the sight of God. That's why we must have faith, walk in faith, exercise our faith, eat, sleep, talk, and breathe faith. Faith is what brings us into right standing with God. Faith is hoping against all hope.
When the world says things are hopeless, when your family says things are hopeless, and even when you feel like things are hopeless; that is the time to believe in HOPE. Many folks think hope is some weak excuse for faith but hope is the building block of faith. "Faith is the substance of things HOPED for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1
Just as the children's church song requires the movement of every part of the body, so faith is substantiated by the movement of our physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional being. If you are so emotionally drained you have no feeling, exercise your physical body in faith. Speak the Word of God. If you are physically unable to move in faith, apply your mind. Meditate on the Word of God. If you are mentally exhausted, exercise your spirit man. Pray in the Spirit. Faith is not just a concept it is the source of life in Christ.
You will find strength today as you speak the Word of God, meditate on the Word of God, and as you pray in the Spirit. God bless you all. PT2006
Exercise Your Faith
As children we sang a song entitled "Father Abraham". It was one of those action songs that lasted forever. Similar to the "Twelve Days of Christmas", each verse added another action. The final verse went like this: "Father Abraham had many sons. Many sons had father Abraham. I am one of them and so are you. So let's just praise the Lord. Right arm, left arm, right foot, left foot, head forward, head back, turn around, and sit down." Makes me tired just typing it all, but it was fun back then. We would give it all we had. Just like we should give our praise- with all we have.
The short account of Abraham is found in the fourth chapter of Romans. The 18th verse reads thus: "Who against hope believed in hope, that he might become the father of many nations, according to that which was spoken, So shall thy seed be." We understand that Abraham believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness. Simply put; what Abraham called faith, God called righteousness.
The following is a loose paraphrase for the remainder of the chapter. Now Abraham had every confidence that God would grant to him all that had been promised. This account has been recorded not for Abraham only but for all who truly believe the promises of God. All who believe in the crucified and resurrected Christ possess and exercise faith. When God looks upon the believer's faith, He equates it with righteousness.
Can't stop there! Romans 5:1,2 "Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in the hope of the glory of God."
Yes, our righteousness is as filthy rags in the sight of God. That's why we must have faith, walk in faith, exercise our faith, eat, sleep, talk, and breathe faith. Faith is what brings us into right standing with God. Faith is hoping against all hope.
When the world says things are hopeless, when your family says things are hopeless, and even when you feel like things are hopeless; that is the time to believe in HOPE. Many folks think hope is some weak excuse for faith but hope is the building block of faith. "Faith is the substance of things HOPED for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1
Just as the children's church song requires the movement of every part of the body, so faith is substantiated by the movement of our physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional being. If you are so emotionally drained you have no feeling, exercise your physical body in faith. Speak the Word of God. If you are physically unable to move in faith, apply your mind. Meditate on the Word of God. If you are mentally exhausted, exercise your spirit man. Pray in the Spirit. Faith is not just a concept it is the source of life in Christ.
You will find strength today as you speak the Word of God, meditate on the Word of God, and as you pray in the Spirit. God bless you all. PT2006
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
The Greatest of These
Picture courtesy of Paul Lee
So many questions arise after tragedy strikes. The question that is on my mind this morning is not why, but what? What happened in this young man's life that caused him to go on such a horrific rampage. What was he feeling in the days and weeks before the massacre? What could have been done to divert this sad event? What are we doing to prepare our children in the event they are ever faced with such a crisis? What are we doing on a day-to-day basis to ensure the physical, mental, and spiritual health of our children? What can we do to prevent this from happening again? What is the answer?
The answer is love. Love like there is no tomorrow. Love without reservation. Love without condition. Love without expectation. Love in spite of, in place of, instead of. Love with your actions, your words, your heart. Lead in love. Teach in love. Live in love. Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself. Love is not easily provoked. Love thinketh no evil. Love beareth all things, hopeth all things, and believeth all things. Love never fails. I challenge you today to reread 1 Corinthians 13. Read with an open heart. Ask yourself what needs to change in your life. Ask God who needs to feel your love today. Who needs to see His love?
"And now abideth faith, hope, and love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13.
Monday, April 16, 2007
When Tragedy Strikes...
Please be in prayer for the students and families of Virginia Tech. We do not know the why...nor do we need to know to go to our God. In a world of chaos, there is One who never changes. He can work through this, in spite of this.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I've Been Published--
in the online magazine, "Dew on the Kudzu, an E-zine celebrating the Southern way of life." Stop over an visit my memories of Burkett Street, my grandparents homeplace in Jackson, Tennessee. The picture is one the editor added. Sadly, I don't have one to submit. I am very excited about this and hope it leads to more articles. Thanks Idgie!
Worm Your Way Out
Today's Worship Wednesday post is brought to you by the author of Timeless Text Messages, PT2006.
"Alas! and did my Savior bleed and did my Sovereign die? Would He devote that sacred head for such a worm as I?" Those words were penned by Isaac Watts in 1707. In the following verses we read the words of the Lord given to the prophet Isaiah.
13 For I am the LORD, your God,
who takes hold of your right hand
and says to you, Do not fear;
I will help you.
14 Do not be afraid, O worm Jacob,
O little Israel,
for I myself will help you," declares the LORD,
your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.
Isaiah 41:13,14 NIV
What did God mean when he called his chosen, a worm? There are two other references in the Bible where man is referred to as a worm. In Job 25:4-6, Bildad equates man to a maggot. In this instance the worm would be a filthy, unrighteous, unacceptable person before God. The second reference is found in Psalms 22:6. Here the psalmist speaks of himself as a worm scorned and despised by people. The first reference is in regards to the condition of the worm. The second speaks of how the worm is treated by others.
Both meanings can be applied in today's text. Israel had become a people of uncleanness through their lies, wickedness, mischief, and sins. (Isaiah 6:5 and Isaiah 59:1-8) They were the object of their captor's anger and scorn. (Isaiah 41:11)
It makes no difference which meaning is applied to Jacob. The important part of the scripture is the declaration of the Lord's help to man, even the lowest of all men. The Lord will take hold of the worm and lift him out of dire circumstances.
On another note: Isn't it the lowly worm that can penetrate the hardest earth?
With God's help, we can go through the most difficult obstacles that block our progress.
The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge... Proverbs 18:15 NIV
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Awesome Reminders
Isaiah 41:8 "But you, Israel are my servant, Jacob whom I have chosen, the descendants of Abraham, My friend. You whom I have takend from the ends of the earth and called from its farthest regions,and said to you,'You are my servant I have chosen you and have not cast you away'; fear not for I am with you; Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, Yes I will help you. I will uphold you with My righteous right hand."
Isaiah 41: 18 "I will open rivers in desolate heights, and fountains in the midst of the valleys; I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water."
Isaiah 41: 18 "I will open rivers in desolate heights, and fountains in the midst of the valleys; I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water."
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Who I am
If you go down to a certain courthouse in TN, you will find my birth certificate on record. I was born at St. Mary's Hospital behind Bailey Park in Humboldt, Tennessee in 1965. I am not Catholic, but it was the only hospital in town. So the nuns held my mom's hand as she labored and told her what a good patient she was while the woman next to her moaned and spat curses all night. Mama, ever the lady, just bit her lip. St. Mary's is now a nursing home. We Southerners recycle everything.
I can walk barefoot on gravel, hot pavement, and through a blackberry patch with ease. My daddy had three girls, but was in denial about it, so we broke his horses for him and helped him build his barn. We got BB guns for Christmas one year, which we proceeded to fill with red ants and shoot at the older neighbor boys. Well, my baby sister didn't get to shoot BBs. She had to settle for an air gun which she promptly stuck in the soft ground and made dirt pellets to shoot. No back seat for her. She could hang with the best of us. She did one day get mad at us for not letting her play with the us older kids and said she was running away from home. We promptly helped her pack her knapsack and tie it to a long stick and watched her head down the road. She didn't get far.
I was raised on "Peminnah-N-cheese" or peanut butter banana sandwiches. No uppity Yankee watercress for us.
Most of us younguns drank Kool-Aid from the silver Kool-Aid pitcher just like the one on the commercial. Daddy drank buttermilk and crumbled cornbread in it--or biscuits, or cake, or whatever he had on hand. Mama handed him a tuna salad sandwich one night, to which he replied, "What the **** is this mess?"
Mama replied, "It's all we got in the cabinet. Eat it and be grateful."
"Ain't ya got some brown beans or white beans or somethin'?"
"Nope."
"In that case, it's mighty fine eatin'."
And he never said a word about what she put on the table ever again.
My favorite memories are of painting the long white fence around our property--getting the paint all over our clothes and in our hair and slapping it on each other. "Take pride in your work," our Daddy said. "Do it right the first time."
We grew a garden every year. One year was particularly hot, and so when we finished digging potatoes, Daddy took us down to the Forked Deer River for a swim to cool off. Even Mom went in.
Then we would come home and go for trail rides. I never will forget my Daddy bringing home Shorty at 11:00 one night. He was a very tall black pony. I rode him around in the yard that night in my gowntail. These are the memories I choose.
I was there when both my parents died. My dad died t 51 after a five-year illness that involved arterial brain disease. I watched my mother give up her life to care for him rather than placing him in an institution or nursing home. One of his last days at home I wheeled him out to the yard to enjoy the fall air. He sat in the wheelchair, my mom in the yard swing. And he smiled at her. I knew then that no matter what hell he ever put her through that he loved her...and she loved him. They planted buttercups one Saturday along the bank down by the road...lots and lots of buttercups. Because Mama loved Buttercups. She loved Dahlias. She loved roses. The roses were few, the thorns many. But she had buttercups...The bank is full of them yet today. I will always have that memory.
I sat and held my mother's hand as she succumbed to breast cancer at 61. She died in the bedroom they had shared, in the home they had lived in since I was 2. She did not get to graduate from the Baptist Nursing Program. She kept the acceptance letter all those years in her cedar chest. She opted to marry and have dad's kids. And that was the life she chose. In the end, I suppose she did get to be the nurse she always dreamed of. But she was so much more. She was the woman I'll never be. She took me to church on Sundays and Wednesdays. She made sure I was clean and well fed and knew right from wrong. She sacrificed more than one woman should ever have to. But she did it, and in the end I don't think she regretted the life she lived. I think she died with a clear conscience knowing she gave Dad everything she had. I know she loved him.
I don't know if I can be that kind of wife, be that strong and supportive...and forgiving. I don't know what I am willing to sacrifice for the sake of my child. what I'm willing to give up or do without. But I do know that whatever happens in my future, I will survive. Because she taught me that. They both did. My daddy would say, "You don't have to take a back seat to anyone. Hold your head up and be proud of who you are." No matter what else I learned from my parents, I learned what love is and what it isn't. And so I walk this road of discovery, learning every day who it is that I really am...and learning a step at a time, to hold my head up and stop saying, "I can't." But, "I will." I am who I am. If you love me, love me for the me I am today...not what you want me to be. Because I may never be able to live up to your expectations. Love me because you choose to, in spite of my faults and failures--in spite of how I disappoint you...or in spite of even how I treat you when I'm hurt and angry. Love me because you want to...not because it's expected, required, or even returned. Without love, we are nothing...our relationships are hollow and meaningless and a mockery of what they were intended to be. And if there's anything that scares me it is the coming to the end of my life and knowing that I wasted it. I want my life to count for something.
I want people to look into my casket and know that the person lying there gave life and God everything she had. That it was a life well spent and not in vain. That she loved God more than she loved anything else in life...and was proud to be called His daughter. That I did my best in spite of what life handed me, I chose the good..whatever that may be. I want to be remembered as someone who loved.
I can walk barefoot on gravel, hot pavement, and through a blackberry patch with ease. My daddy had three girls, but was in denial about it, so we broke his horses for him and helped him build his barn. We got BB guns for Christmas one year, which we proceeded to fill with red ants and shoot at the older neighbor boys. Well, my baby sister didn't get to shoot BBs. She had to settle for an air gun which she promptly stuck in the soft ground and made dirt pellets to shoot. No back seat for her. She could hang with the best of us. She did one day get mad at us for not letting her play with the us older kids and said she was running away from home. We promptly helped her pack her knapsack and tie it to a long stick and watched her head down the road. She didn't get far.
I was raised on "Peminnah-N-cheese" or peanut butter banana sandwiches. No uppity Yankee watercress for us.
Most of us younguns drank Kool-Aid from the silver Kool-Aid pitcher just like the one on the commercial. Daddy drank buttermilk and crumbled cornbread in it--or biscuits, or cake, or whatever he had on hand. Mama handed him a tuna salad sandwich one night, to which he replied, "What the **** is this mess?"
Mama replied, "It's all we got in the cabinet. Eat it and be grateful."
"Ain't ya got some brown beans or white beans or somethin'?"
"Nope."
"In that case, it's mighty fine eatin'."
And he never said a word about what she put on the table ever again.
My favorite memories are of painting the long white fence around our property--getting the paint all over our clothes and in our hair and slapping it on each other. "Take pride in your work," our Daddy said. "Do it right the first time."
We grew a garden every year. One year was particularly hot, and so when we finished digging potatoes, Daddy took us down to the Forked Deer River for a swim to cool off. Even Mom went in.
Then we would come home and go for trail rides. I never will forget my Daddy bringing home Shorty at 11:00 one night. He was a very tall black pony. I rode him around in the yard that night in my gowntail. These are the memories I choose.
I was there when both my parents died. My dad died t 51 after a five-year illness that involved arterial brain disease. I watched my mother give up her life to care for him rather than placing him in an institution or nursing home. One of his last days at home I wheeled him out to the yard to enjoy the fall air. He sat in the wheelchair, my mom in the yard swing. And he smiled at her. I knew then that no matter what hell he ever put her through that he loved her...and she loved him. They planted buttercups one Saturday along the bank down by the road...lots and lots of buttercups. Because Mama loved Buttercups. She loved Dahlias. She loved roses. The roses were few, the thorns many. But she had buttercups...The bank is full of them yet today. I will always have that memory.
I sat and held my mother's hand as she succumbed to breast cancer at 61. She died in the bedroom they had shared, in the home they had lived in since I was 2. She did not get to graduate from the Baptist Nursing Program. She kept the acceptance letter all those years in her cedar chest. She opted to marry and have dad's kids. And that was the life she chose. In the end, I suppose she did get to be the nurse she always dreamed of. But she was so much more. She was the woman I'll never be. She took me to church on Sundays and Wednesdays. She made sure I was clean and well fed and knew right from wrong. She sacrificed more than one woman should ever have to. But she did it, and in the end I don't think she regretted the life she lived. I think she died with a clear conscience knowing she gave Dad everything she had. I know she loved him.
I don't know if I can be that kind of wife, be that strong and supportive...and forgiving. I don't know what I am willing to sacrifice for the sake of my child. what I'm willing to give up or do without. But I do know that whatever happens in my future, I will survive. Because she taught me that. They both did. My daddy would say, "You don't have to take a back seat to anyone. Hold your head up and be proud of who you are." No matter what else I learned from my parents, I learned what love is and what it isn't. And so I walk this road of discovery, learning every day who it is that I really am...and learning a step at a time, to hold my head up and stop saying, "I can't." But, "I will." I am who I am. If you love me, love me for the me I am today...not what you want me to be. Because I may never be able to live up to your expectations. Love me because you choose to, in spite of my faults and failures--in spite of how I disappoint you...or in spite of even how I treat you when I'm hurt and angry. Love me because you want to...not because it's expected, required, or even returned. Without love, we are nothing...our relationships are hollow and meaningless and a mockery of what they were intended to be. And if there's anything that scares me it is the coming to the end of my life and knowing that I wasted it. I want my life to count for something.
I want people to look into my casket and know that the person lying there gave life and God everything she had. That it was a life well spent and not in vain. That she loved God more than she loved anything else in life...and was proud to be called His daughter. That I did my best in spite of what life handed me, I chose the good..whatever that may be. I want to be remembered as someone who loved.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Passport Requirements
Today's post is brought to you by my sister, PT2006.
Are you a world traveler? If you are then you know more about the process of obtaining a passport than I do. I did make a couple of missions trips many years ago, so I had a passport at one time. As I recall, I had to have my birth certificate, social security card, a recent photo, a couple of witnesses, and a notary public. There were fees to be paid as well.
Traveling to another country takes lots of preparation. Some things need to be done months ahead of time. Others can be done just before you leave the house. Regardless of how many preparations you make, you will be denied entrance to your destination if you fail to have your valid passport in your possession.
"...give diligence to make your calling and election sure: for if you do these things, ye shall never fall: for such an entrance shall be ministered unto you abundantly into the everlasting Kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." II Peter 1:10
Our calling and election is a two way street. God has done the calling and electing, and we have to do the making sure. In the Greek, to make something sure carries the idea of validating a document. The Bible speaks of a testimony being authenticated by the presence of two witnesses. Our Christian testimony is our passport, and requires nothing less.
The Apostle Paul speaks of God's Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are His children. This would be the required birth certificate and the Trinity our required witnesses. The following are the requirements to which Peter was referring to as "these things": faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness, and charity. Perhaps these could be the the recent photo needed for obtaining our passport.
Lastly, the fees or the cost. What about them? Jesus paid them! We just have to keep our receipt.
I am bound for another country, whose builder and ruler is God. I have my passport and it has been validated. Has yours?
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Getting it Off my Chest
I want to clarify a few things with this post. First of all, I do different types of writing. It all depends on what is going on in my world and what inspires me. And while this blog is a reflection of me, it does not represent the totality of who I am. Here you get my best foot forward. Here you get my inspiring moments, my philosophical moments my good days...and some of my bad days. And just because you get my best foot forward most of the time, that does not mean I am perfect. That I do not struggle with personal issues, that I do not have problems in my life. It does not mean I am super Christian. It does not mean I do not fall. Just because I do not go into my failings in gory detail here does not mean that I am hiding them or being deceitful about who I am.
Why am I saying this, you ask? Because again, some have said that I am a different person online that I am in person. That sometimes my blogs seem contradictory to my life and relationships offline. And you know what? They just might be right. Because I choose not to air my dirty laundry here in blogland. This blog is a place where I explore my writing, my spirituality, my friendships, my journey toward publication, and connect with others who are doing the same.
I do tend to keep very personal issues offline. I do not share pictures of my husband or child or relatives online. I do tend to spiritualize on my blog. I do tend to try to stay upbeat. But this is me. This is the me I want to be all the time. I am happy when I am here writing and among friends. I like the comraderie. I like the support system...however flimsy and "unreal" it may seem to outsiders. I know you're real. I know if you're here, most of you did not just stumble by, but have taken the time to get to know me...or at least as much as I have allowed you to know me. Does that make the online world a fantasy place where everything is rosy and everything like we wish it would be? Do we build our online worlds to our satisfaction, choosing to leave out the ugly, the cold harsh realities? Some of us do. And then, some of us bear our souls and bleed all over the page with every trial and every tear. Read some of my posts from 2006. You will find moments of doubt, worry, fear. You will find me pulling my hair out over financial situations. You will see me struggling with bitterness. Just because I have chosen not to dwell on that does not mean that I am not still struggling my friend.
The thing about blogging is, is that it's an expression that's fully mine. I have seen people who have four or five blogs, and each blog might have a different theme or relate to different aspects of a person's life. One blog for writing. One blog for hobbies. One blog for personal diary. One blog for witnessing. We are all multi-faceted individuals. Read my blog objectively. Take what you want from it and leave the rest. If you want the gory details of my life, my dirty laundry, I'm sure there are some that will willingly oblige you with them. In fact, in all probability, eventually they will find their way into a post here and there. But if, my friend, you find that I have been silent for a few days--or that something just seems a little "off," then yes...I admit it. It's because I'm having a tough time and didn't want you to know. It's because I'm drawn up in my little cocoon and trying to solve it all on my own. And doing a miserable job of it. It's because I don't want to admit failure to you--or anyone else.
But yes, friends, Christians do have struggles. It is a war zone. A battlefield--most often in the mind. There are battles we win...battles we lose. There are times we disappoint others. And times when we disappoint ourselves. But through it all we, if we are truly His, we love. We forgive. And we help each other up. Thanks for being here. Tune in tomorrow for Worship Wednesday for maybe a more uplifting post. I love you guys.
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