March 7, 2015 · 5:26 am

Letting Jesus Out

Lent caught me flat footed this year.  I was in the produce aisle at Wal-Mart, looking for onions when I noticed the heavy ash cross on the forehead of another shopper.

“What???  It’s Ash Wednesday already???” I wondered.  “That means that Lent starts today and I’ve not even thought much about it!”

Honestly, I am not given to great observances on the Christian calendar, but the season of Lent carries an introspective, self-denial that has been meaningful to me in the past.  I try to prepare my heart in a special way for Easter during the weeks leading up to this “Best of All Holy Days Day.”

This year has been so different.  Our household, never “normal” by any standard, has been crazy, so “un-normal” even for us, that I’ve heard myself asking The Father if He could please bless us with an “ordinary” day.  One that is unmarked by weather and sickness.  It has been over two weeks since the schedule at our house has been right.

I find it so hard when I cannot count on a schedule to practice the disciplines I need for sanity and Godliness. It isn’t that I lose my Salvation, as much as it is that I feel very vulnerable to wrong attitudes; jealousy, suspicion, impatience, indifference, sadness and self pity rear their ugly heads and wreak havoc with my head and heart.  Faith seems like a slippery slope and it is so easy to see all the places where Christians are unloving, unreliable, unthinking, or just plain rude.

And so, I came to the season of Lent with some very late resolves.  It dawned on my fur brain tonight that Easter is 30 days away.  For about 5 days, Youngest Daughter and I have been trying to observe a Lenten fast from candy, cookies, cakes and pies.  I’ve been saying during these last five days that we were going to do this the last 30 days of Lent, not realizing that we actually had 35 days left.  But I’ve messed up in these last two days. with Doughnuts for the snow day, and Apple Dumplings for the Quiz Team Fundraiser today. (I mean, it wouldn’t be supportive not to at least eat one in honor of all their hard work, now would it???)  And I thought about how easily I make excuses and think that this once won’t matter, and so, the days slip on by.

Some years back, I purchased an advent/lent wooden “path” (with appropriate markers and extensions for the journeys) from Author Ann Voskamp’s son, Caleb.  We’ve used it often in the seasons since, and this year, I’ve staked the days with candles that I bought from the Jewish section of the grocery store.  I started at the outside edge and was working my way to the inside.  The figure of Jesus, carrying his cross, made its way steadily along the path that was getting narrower and narrower.  And then Middle Daughter,  looking at my Lenten Journey display, made this observation.

“You know Mama, I wonder what would happen if we started Jesus on his journey at the center of the wreath and walked him out to the outside.  It wouldn’t be so crowded and difficult to get around in the center that way.  After all, Jesus did go “out” when he was carrying his cross.”

That really impacted me..  For one thing, this business of denying self and taking up our cross, while it is something that we are commanded to do, it is not supposed to be introspective.  Too often, I do this for me.  It’s supposed to be all about Jesus.  All about Him being so big and good and Holy that we disregard what we think we want, to focus more on Him, to “get him out” of the boxes we’ve put Him in, out of the confines of our little circles to a world that needs the hope of a Savior who loved them enough to die.  The thing is, when we, for whatever reason, or by whatever means, think we need to keep Jesus in our little world, we are really missing out on seeing Him, knowing Him, honoring Him.

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30 days left until Easter.  How can those days be used to break the strongholds in my life that “hold Jesus in?”

“Oh, Lord Jesus!  Change our focus and direction.  Live your life and resurrection power in and through us. your people, in ways and through days that are anything but ordinary.”

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March 1, 2015 · 10:45 pm

Going through life on a slippery path

She came after church, hugged me and spoke encouraging words.  She had no idea how desperately I needed to hear the very words she said.  It made me cry, but it put a song in my heart that lasted through lunch and cleanup and filling bird feeders and now to my chair.

Through this week, as we’ve dealt with weather, Nettie’s medical procedures, stomach viruses, concern over Cecilia’s ongoing health issues, another fall of Sweet Mama’s, relationship issues, and disappointment over the choices of people we love, I’ve needed (many times over) to sing this song from our renewal meetings:

“If He hung the moon,
I KNOW He will help (me).
And if He holds the sparrow in flight,
He’ll hold (me), too.
Consider the lilies of the field —
How much more He loves (me).
In the beginning of time, (I) was on His mind —
When He hung the moon.

This afternoon, the ice is hanging from the leaves of the Magnolia tree, and trailing from the bird feeders, encasing the branches with a brittle sheen and making it very unattractive to do anything but stay inside.  But I sit here in my chair beside the fire, and there are so many blessings to count.

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*Three little people in my Sunday School Class who make me laugh, inspire me to prepare, and cause my heart to swell with love whenever I think about them.

*That good, good husband of mine who has looked after the affairs of not only our own house and land, but that of others as well this past week.  This morning he gave me a compliment on an outfit that I’ve been insecure about ever since my Sweet Mama told me that it didn’t “do much for you.”  He also called someone to fill in for him at church duties so he could stay home with the sick and afflicted and I would have a chance to get out and to teach my littles and be with our church family.  How very much I needed that!

*This afternoon, for the first time since MONDAY, Cecilia picked up her own spoon, fed herself, cleaned up her plate and drank her sweet tea by herself and kept everything down.  This is a blessing of monumental proportions.

*Because Certain Man stayed home this morning, his friend Gary rode to church with me.  The roads were precarious driving home. I was slow.  Gary spoke not a single murmuring word.  He acted glad that I was going slow.  All the way home, I wondered how in the world Gary was going to motor up the walk to his house with the slippery conditions, his cane and his Bible, and I was trying to think how I could assist our tall friend into the safety of his front door.  I dreaded the cold  and ice and being responsible for his safety, because if the truth be told, this old gal is a vain thing for her own safety under such conditions.  We pulled up to his back walk and I looked at the expanse betwixt the van and the door and my heart sank.

“Gary, how are you going to get in there?”  I asked with great reservation.

“Oh, I’ll be alright.  Just let me off here, and then you can go on out there and turn around and go.”

“I know, but Gary, it’s slippery.  I don’t think you should walk that alone!”

He opened the door and started to unfold his lanky self.  “I’ll be okay,” he reiterated.  “If I can just get myself out of here–” He struggled with getting his feet over the edge of the door because the knee he had replaced just doesn’t work right.  “I’ll be careful!”

He got himself out and collected his Bible, and planted his feet firmly in the snow, supporting himself with the dependable cane.  I held my breath as he took one baby step after another.  I could just see him crashing down in the wet, cold snow.  How would I explain to Elaine?  He inched his way along and finally made it to the front door.  Relief swept over me as I saw him grasp the handrail on the steps leading into the house.  He struggled a bit with the knob, but then it opened.  Whew!  He made it!  This also made my heart sing!

So there are ample reasons on this wet, cold, dark evening to offer grateful praise.

So this, then, I will chose.

A grateful heart.

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February 27, 2015 · 1:34 am

Tears in the night

We are traveling a familiar road, Certain Man and I.  I knew when we set out on this Deacon call that we would be going this way, but I was not prepared.

We came around the curve and came up a small hill.  Far away in the distance, the lights of our church building shone through the Sunday evening cold.  It took my breath away.

“There are lights???  At the church???” I asked Certain Man.

“Sure are!”  He replied in his off-handed way.  “They’ve had them on ever since they got electric back in after the fire.”

“But how???” I am still more than a little incredulous.  “The lights were all taken down!”

“Oh, they just strung them up however they could.  They want lights on, especially at night.”

Oh.

We come on down the road, closer and closer to the church, and my eyes drink in the light shining out of every window.  As we get closer, it was plain that the lights are from various wires, strung all over the empty, gutted church.  Up close, it isn’t half as beautiful as it was from the distance.  I look hurriedly and hungrily through the dusty windows.  It is full of light, but without life.

I am sad and reflective on my side of The Silver Chariot.  “I’ve not been in,” I say quietly.

“What???  You’ve not been in since the fire???”  I feel Certain Man’s disbelief spearing me through the darkness.

“No.”

“Why not???”  There was so much coming and going in the days following the fire, so much traffic from our house in particular with Certain Man being the first on the scene from our congregation and then both Eldest Daughter and Middle Daughter playing a part in the aftermath and the clean-up that it had been so easy to hide the fact that I didn’t go.

I feel the tears welling up in my eyes.  “Because,” I almost whisper.  “I just didn’t think I could bear it.”

“Well, Hon, I think you need to go,” says my steady spouse.  “I really think it’s something you should do.”

“Why?  I feel so terribly sad, and it is something I just don’t want to see.  Maybe after it is all fixed up, I won’t hate it so much.  But for now, I have no desire to go in and see it.”

He doesn’t push me, and we stop at the four-way stop sign at the corner of Carpenter Bridge and Canterbury Road and then go on.  I sit in the dark and think about this church family that I call “mine” and I think about the strength and courage and grace and forgiveness that has marked these days since that early morning call on December 2, 2014.  Our people have not wallowed about in despair or self pity or been immobilized by this bump in the road.  They are still gathering for worship, encouraging one another, doing the things that have been a part of our lives for so many years.  We are still praying, singing, giving to needs outside the congregation, some of us are teaching Sunday School, some are volunteering at Stevenson House, some are preparing and delivering sermons, and last week, in the middle of the coldest, icy-est, darkest time of our winter, most of us gathered together for renewal meetings and the majority of us didn’t miss a night.  And this doesn’t cover the everyday lives of our people who work and play and raise families and maintain their homefires.

And so I remind myself that we are not defined by that damaged church house there on a country road in Kent County, Delaware.  These people are The Church, and though we are certainly re-evaluating and seeking to hear what God is saying to us through these difficult times, we are very aware that God has something so good for us through this fire that has truly proved to be a Refiner’s Fire.

And while I may shed some quiet tears when I look at a building that holds the church memories of almost 50 of my 61 years, I will not hang my heart on a structure that can, well — be destroyed.  This made me think about a passage in 2 Corinthians that goes something like this:

5 1-5 For instance, we know that when these bodies of ours are taken down like tents and folded away, they will be replaced by resurrection bodies in heaven—God-made, not handmade—and we’ll never have to relocate our “tents” again. Sometimes we can hardly wait to move—and so we cry out in frustration. Compared to what’s coming, living conditions around here seem like a stopover in an unfurnished shack, and we’re tired of it! We’ve been given a glimpse of the real thing, our true home, our resurrection bodies! The Spirit of God whets our appetite by giving us a taste of what’s ahead. He puts a little of heaven in our hearts so that we’ll never settle for less. (The Message)

And so, when it is all said and done, it isn’t a church structure.  It isn’t even these earthly bodies that are so prone to letting us down.  The Hope is in that Home that will not be destroyed.  Heaven.

How my soul wants that to happen!  Job 19:27b

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February 25, 2015 · 7:38 pm

Song of a Grateful (albeit struggling) Heart

Home from Bayhealth Milford Outpatient Services!

The last few days have been really intense at this house. Cecilia is SICK with bronchitis and a stomach virus. And OGN has been prepping for that wonderful invasion of privacy, a colonoscopy. Today I give grateful praise for the surprise gift that I received in Nettie’s completely cheerful co-operation and the ensuing great report (she is cleared for five years). I also give praise for the help of my daughters in covering for me when I needed to be gone so that Cecilia could continue her gentle rocking in her chair while she listened to music.

And now I plead for grace to finish state paperwork before the end of the week so that I won’t be called “delinquent!” Which reminds me to give specific praise for a great service team at DDDS (Division of Developmental Disabilities Services). I’ve been granted grace and mercy so many times. And today, when the eyes keep drooping, dropping long lines of extra letters on my posts, forcing me to retype at length, I am grateful for the prospect of a quiet evening at home, when small groups have been cancelled.  There are so many things to bank in my heart against the coming storm and the yearly rattling about of paperwork for the Internal Revenue Service.

I hate this so much! But hating takes so much emotional energy and I have none to spare right now.

Oh, Lord Jesus! Here I raise
The sacrifice of Grateful praise!

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February 16, 2015 · 11:03 pm

Beyond the glitz

It is Valentines Day in the good old USA.  People everywhere are speaking of their wonderful Valentines and the wonderful gifts they have been given.  Certain Man’s Wife has been guilty of the same.  Her heart was delighted with two dozen multi-colored roses delivered on Thursday afternoon — ahead of the rush.  Practical as ever, Certain Man has found that it’s a WHOLE lot cheaper to order on line and have things delivered ahead of time.

This morning, standing in the kitchen, Youngest Daughter rehearsed her good friend, Anna Downing’s take on Valentines Day — that it is a day to tell everyone you love that you love them and to say something noteworthy about them in the love message.  Youngest Daughter got one this morning thanking her for being a good friend and wishing her a happy Valentines Day.

I like that very much.

I also got to thinking about the  ways Certain Man has tied the stuff that life is made of to speaking love to his unobservant and often clueless spouse.

For one thing, he has loved our children so intently(I did mean intently) and well.  Certain Man is not perfect and does not claim to be, but his children had better not hear anyone rehearse his faults.  I’ve seen his children struggle with having Christian Charity towards people who have, however unwittingly, said or done things that have hurt their Dad, and it is no small thing to them.  (They tend to rise up snarling!)  Certain Man did not get that kind of loyalty and love by being a selfish or distant father.  He draws them into his interests and into sharing his serving heart.  For example, this morning he hooked his trailer to his farm pickup, loaded his tractor, corralled Middle Daughter and Youngest Daughter and headed up the road to stack wood for an older man in our church who is having a tough time.  I looked at my girlies and knew that the last thing in the world they wanted to do this morning was go out in this bitter cold and pick up wood, but there was not a single word of complaint.  “Sure Dad,” they said, and grabbed gloves and old sweatshirts and warm tzibble kops and piled into the old truck and away they went.  He was jovial and exclaiming loudly about any of a number of things.  They were marching to their father’s music and “ever’thin’ was good.”

That is something that always melts my heart.  In this day when there are so many fathers who refuse to be dads and so many fathers who name the Name of Christ but whose hearts selfishly demand to be first or best or most, this Certain Man has never — and I truly do mean NEVER– made me choose between serving him or meeting a child’s needs.  I sought to put him first, would often protest when he would encourage me to comfort a child or talk late to a teen or take a late night phone call from a adult child.  “It’s fine, Hon,” he would/will say.  “Don’t worry about it.  There’ll be time later.”

This evening, we went out for a Valentines Day early dinner, and looking back on our trek, I have to smile when I think about how this evening could sort of define not only this man, but our marriage.  Certain Man worked all day at one thing and then another, reminding me now and then that we were going out to eat “somewhere” and “sometime before it gets too late.”  And also, “Maybe we could pick up those shop lights at Lowe’s when we are out.”  He had helped Gary and Elaine with their firewood, he had taken extra care of his animals and equipment because of the cold,  He had noted that some of the bird feeders were getting empty and he filled the feeders and replenished the suet hangers.  It was a great aggravation when ACE Hardware was out of, not only ear corn but out favorite “nutsie” block that we particularly like for woodpeckers and for diverting the squirrels from other feeders, but he decided that we would look at Lowe’s when we got there.

So, along about four o’clock this afternoon, we got on our way.  He had decided Outback! and I had gotten him a good gift card for there for Christmas, and there is a Lowe’s in this Lewes town, so he thought it would be the best destination.  Heading down Route 1 to Lewes, he surprised me by suddenly getting into the left hand lane and turning on to the road to Argos Corner.

“I’m just gonna’ see,” he said, “if I can figure out where they live.”  We both knew of whom he spoke — “Our Kids” as we’ve been wont to call them over the past few years.  They were homeless for almost two years, shuttling between counties and motels and trouble until about a month ago when they landed in a trailer “where the store had burned” in this small Sussex County community.  I had made a trip through a couple of weeks ago, but hadn’t been able to discern which trailer was theirs.  But Certain Man has discerning powers that I lack, and the trailer was soon found.

“That’s it, right there!” Said Certain Man.

“I guess it is,” I agreed.  “Same vehicle, and look!  He still has his old classic car.”

I noted the completely curtained windows, the big “No Trespassing” sign in the window.  He noted that the trash was already beginning to pile up in back.  Certain Man made a U-turn at the deserted intersection and we resumed our trip to Lewes, considerably more pensive than we had been.  Traffic was heavy as we came into the seaside town, and as we pulled into the turn lane that went to Outback, I noted the crowded parking lot.

“I’ll have trouble finding a parking place,” said Certain Man, “So I’ll just drop you off at the door and you can put our names in and then I’ll come on in.”  He pulled up to the curb and I bailed out, and went in.  The waiting area was crowded, and a hostess took my name and handed me a buzzer.

“Do you know how long the wait is?” I asked when I could get an word in edgewise.

In response to a quick question, a harried looking co-hostess looked up briefly and said, “60-70 minutes.  At least.”  I clutched the buzzer and decided to go and talk to Certain Man.  I looked all around the parking lot to no avail  and finally called him.

“Hon, it’s going to be a 60-70 minute wait.  We don’t want to wait that long, do we?”

“No way!  I’m having to park way out in the far parking lot anyhow, and I wondered how long a wait it was going to be.  I’ll be right back up to pick you up.  Let’s go up to Cracker Barrel and see how long that wait will be.”  And that was just fine with me.  I happened to have even better gift cards to Cracker Barrel.

“Go in and see how long the wait,” said Certain Man five minutes later as we pulled into the parking lot.  “I’ll go park.”

“Maybe five minutes,” said the pleasant hostess at the crowded Cracker Barrel.  “Not long.”

I put our names in under “Daniel” and called him with the news.  Actually, by the time he was walking across the parking lot, he heard them page us for our table.  We had a very nice time at our “early” dinner.  He had fish, I had chicken.  (Is anyone who knows us surprised?)  The conversation was good, and I even sent a picture of Certain Man and a short note to his children:

Me and my Valentine went to Outback to dine.
60-70 minutes to wait just wasn’t fine.
Off to Cracker Barrel we go-
got seated just so-
and decided that we wouldn’t whine.

(Poor rhyme, I know, but I was in the middle of organizing  it into something impressive when Certain Man proceeded to tell me about a restaurant that gives a percent off if you do not use any electronic devices while in the establishment and I considered that a hint to put my cell phone away!  Besides, we had plenty to talk about.)

We did not linger long over our meal, and soon we were on our way to Lowe’s to pick up lights for the shop that Certain Man has been working on for some time now.  First, we got a bag of ear corn, and a mealyworm cake and feeder for our beloved Bluebirds and then we picked out four shop lights and the bulbs for them.  Then I waited while Certain Man looked for hinges to fix a cupboard door that has been giving his orderly soul distress.  I looked at our loaded cart, thought about this Valentines Day Date and it made me laugh.  I just really like this guy  who is always taking care of farm and family and birds and people.  He made one more stop at the Best ACE Hardware in Lewes where he found the seed, nut and fruit roll that he wanted and we bought TWO so we wouldn’t run out, and finally we were done.

We came home in the cold winter twilight to our warm house and the lights of home.  We unloaded the shop lights and then he fixed the door that was bothering him, bedded down his animals for the cold winter night, checked his chickens, put pellets in the pellet stove, went up to Gary’s and filled his outdoor furnace as full of wood as it would hold, put out his corn and the other bird seed that he had gotten and puttered around pondering many things.

He has no idea how loved the ordinary things of this day have made me feel.

And so I thought about this man that I’ve loved for so long- and it reminded me of a song of that Steve and Annie Chapman sang.

(Wherever the seasons of life find this Certain Man, I still pick him!)

Seasons of a Man

I am the springtime, when everything seems so fine

Whether rain or sunshine, you will find me playing

Days full of pretending, when a dime is a lot to be spending

A time when life is beginning, I am the springtime

 

I am the summer, when days are warm and longer

And the call comes to wander, but I can’t go far from home

When the girls become a mystery, and you’re barely passing history

Thinking old is when you’re thirty, I am the summer

 

I am the autumn days, when changes come so many ways

Looking back I stand amazed that time has gone so quickly

When love is more than feelings, its fixing bikes and painting ceilings

Its when you feel a cold when coming, I am the autumn days

 

I am the winter, when days are cold and bitter

And the days I can remember number more than the days to come

When you ride instead of walking, and you barely hear the talking

And goodbyes are said too often, I am the winter

But I’ll see spring again in heaven, and it will last forever.

(You can listen to this here:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3us8-U9-4s)

 

 

 

 

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January 24, 2015 · 6:11 pm

Of sons and cold and long ago days

This was written in January, 2008.  I was reading it this morning and thinking about my sons — and how neither of them are working in the cold at this point, and how life changes so much.  The years have a way of marching on, and it seems like decades since our lives were like this.  I was going to say that the one thing that never changes is the love that we have for our children.  But that isn’t true.  It is true that we always love them, but how we love them changes almost as much as everything else.  I love our sons — I always will.  And I still pray for them.  But the days of sprinkling love over the lunch sandwiches are long, long gone.  🙂

Today was one of those Delaware days.
The temperature is low.
There is a mean wind blowing.

I make swiss cheese and ham sandwiches in the early morning light.
I think about the men my sons have become.
Heading out into the extreme cold.  Learning hard life lessons.
Construction work in Delaware is not for softies.

Through the day, their job comes to mind over and over again.
When I step out of the warmth of the car to the doctors office with my Nettie-Girl.
When I come back out and the force of the wind hits me square
And seems to go right through me. 

I pull my flapping jacket closer around me, and find there is no real warmth
Against this biting, cutting wind.
I pray the Lord to make them strong.  And cautious.  And wise.  And full of optimism.
I pray the Lord to provide respite from the wind.
I pray against bitterness, discouragement and despair.

They tumbled in tonight.  The coffee was on.
“J’amaican Me Crazy”  blend from Dolce’s swirled its comforting smell out to the back door.
Pork Barbecue was in the oven.  Martin Potato Rolls on the cupboard.
They started to “unpeel” and I had to laugh.
Plastic Wal-mart bags around shoes inside boots.
Work pants came off.  Then sweat pants.  Then work shorts. Then there were flannel pajama bottoms.
(Whatever happened to long underwear???)
I see Youngest Son curling up beside the burning flame of the pellet stove.
Oldest Son tending to the “foreman” responsibilities of truck and fellow employees before allowing himself the luxury of warm house and lounging clothes.

Tonight they soak up the warmth and the fire and the comfort of home.
Tomorrow is to be even colder.  And tomorrow they go back out to the job.
It no longer is my responsibility to keep them warm and safe.
I will always be glad when they come home for warmth and food and comfort and encouragement.
But tonight, I know those days are seriously numbered.
And that is okay.  It is the way of Men.
And they are men.  They don’t even love me best of all anymore.

And so, I pack the lunches with a prayer.
I remember the days when I would take my hand and pretend to sprinkle “love” into their food.
It made them laugh.
They are way too big for that trick now.
What they don’t know is that, even though my hand is still,
My heart is sprinkling love all over those Swiss cheese and ham sandwiches.

And I will always love them.

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January 19, 2015 · 3:45 pm

Amazon Packages

I love getting packages in the mail.  I am continually astonished at ordering something on a Wednesday night and it appears in my mail box two days later, with no shipping charges!  Amazon Prime Rocks!  And since Amazon Prime allows auxiliary members, we have our children on our membership.

Saturday, I went to the mailbox and found this box from Amazon.  Okay.  I wondered what Middle Daughter had ordered that she hadn’t told me about.  It was almost too big for the mailbox , and I struggled a bit to get it out.  When I checked the address, I was surprised to find my name on the label.  H-m-m-m-m-m.  Maybe Youngest Daughter had ordered something to come here instead of to her Philly address,  She hadn’t said anything, but she had come home for the long weekend, so maybe she just had it sent to me, hoping she would be here when it came.

Then I looked at the box a little more closely.  AMAZON FIRE PHONE was written all over the packing tape,  Oh, dear!!!  My heart sank clear down to my toes.  I couldn’t believe it!  The Offspringin’s had actually gone and done it!  I looked at that box and thought I just might cry!

It is no secret to any faithful reader of this blog that I am an old stick in the mud when it comes to cell phones.  I have a sturdy old flip phone that has been washed in the washer, has suffered many indignities, yea, things that would have killed off a lesser phone many times over.  It texts, it takes marginal pictures, it calls people, it keeps a wonderful contact list, and if I’m really desperate, can be programmed as an alarm clock.  But when the family is sending group text messages, I only can respond to one person unless I enter the addresses of the rest of the flock.  And I cannot tell to whom the text was sent( besides myself).  This bothers some of the Offspringin’.   Over Christmas, when they thought I might not be listening, they were discussing getting Certain Man and His Wife smart phones for Christmas.  I thought I had made myself clear on the point, and was terribly relieved when I escaped unscathed on the far side of the Christmas Celebration.  Now, THIS!

I brought the box in and set it on the kitchen table and considered my options.  I love my kids and the people they’ve married so intensely, I didn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings.  I considered writing a group e-mail and thanking them sincerely but begging them to reconsider.  (That wouldn’t do, I decided.)  I thought about giving vent to my frustration and bringing on some tears with Middle Daughter and Youngest Daughter and explaining that I just didn’t want it!  (I decided that wouldn’t do either.)  I got to wondering if that was one of the reasons Youngest Daughter came home this weekend — she wanted to see my surprise and delight at this wonderful gift.  Maybe I should wait until she and Middle Daughter were both here to witness the opening of the box.  But then I worried that my reaction would be less than acceptable since they had obviously gone to great lengths to procure this new phone for me.  I decided that I had just better bite the bullet and open it and determine that I was going to learn to use it.  The Offspringin’s had obviously thought it was what was best for me and I am on a kick to try to listen to our Offspringin’s advice and counsel about what is best for me.

I got my instrument of sharp edges and slit the tape.

Oh, dear!

It was not a phone at all!  I looked in that box and laughed out loud.  It wasn’t a phone at all!

I began to feel really, really foolish.  It was a package of B12 drink mixes that I really like that I am no longer able to buy locally and I had ordered them on Wednesday evening and they had even told me that they would be delivered on Saturday.  Sigh!

The thing is, if it wasn’t for that phone phobia, and seeing those words in bold print on that tape, I would have thought of that sooner or later.  So it really is Amazon’s fault.  I think.  I’m pretty sure it hasn’t anything to do with anything else.

And when I say that my heart gives grateful praise on this Monday morning, you can believe that I am telling the truth.  My heart gives grateful praise for an old, old flip phone and for The Offspringin’s who weren’t half as meddling as I thought they were.

I think I’ll go have one of my new grape-flavored drinks.

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January 17, 2015 · 10:52 pm

January Evening

The cold seeps in around the edges of the old farmhouse.  I take a cup from the corner roundabout and wonder at how cold it is.  Why is that cupboard so cold?  I almost want to pour boiling water into it and let it sit for a bit until it is thoroughly warmed before making a cup of mint tea.  The day has been long.  Tonight I finally finished the delinquent paperwork that I need to file with the state.  I feel cross.  I should be grateful.  I have a wonderfully understanding case manager, and I’ve had the best nurses in the system.  My case has just been reassigned, something I always dread, but the replacement is optimistic and warm and she makes me think that just maybe, losing the best nurse I’ve ever had won’t be the end of my tenure.

The cold has been seeping around the edges of my soul these last few months.  Sometimes it seems like grief deferred is grief escaped, but it just isn’t so.  It niggles at the edge of my conscious thought, lends cloud cover to my sunniest days.  I’ve fought with all my might, I think.  I refuse to answer any question of “How are you?” with anything but an enthusiastic, “I’m GOOD!”  Or even, “I’m GREAT!!!” and if the truth be told, that does make me feel better.  But the tears are so close, and the smallest things set me off.

Today, Youngest Daughter stood in our kitchen, ready to go see Joe, the employer that has suffered a stroke.  She is blinking back the tears.  “I know that he knows me, Mama, but he doesn’t remember my name sometimes.  I feel like my sense of loss is far deeper than I realized at first.  At first, I knew he was in there, and I thought that he would probably get better, but now it’s like he knows that he knows me, but he doesn’t know how or why.  And–” her voice caught and I had to strain to hear her, “I’m afraid it’s just too late.”

“It reminds me of  a story I read recently,” I told her, “about this girl who would visit her grandma and her grandma never spoke her name, but would engage in conversation with her.  She wanted her grandma to remember her name so desperately, so as she was leaving, she said, ‘Grandma, you don’t know my name, do you?’  Her grandma looked at her intently and then said, ‘I don’t know your name, but I know that you are someone I love.’  And Rachel, I believe that is how it is with Joe.  He may not remember your name, but he does know that you are someone that he loves.”

Tonight I am so glad that when Jesus looks at me, He knows my name.  He knows my heart.  He knows that I am someone He loves.  This soul sadness is something that He has already carried, so he understands it.  And while there are numerous things that are honest grief, there are still One Thousand Gifts to count, and people around me who need to be encouraged and loved on and who “borrow” joy from me.  This I purpose to rejoice in and I also purpose to not let them down.

And so, let the evening begin.  I have “promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.”  I think I’d best get busy.

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January 14, 2015 · 2:34 am

Of Laundry Lights and Wifely Plights and Husband’s Might

The light in our laundry room has been intent on driving me crazy!  For about a year it has been unreliable just often enough to make me threaten it and even sometimes whack it a time or two with a wooden spoon.  Following such displays of power, it usually would straighten up and fly right for a while.  But increasingly, over the last few months, it has not responded to authority.  I have stood at the light switch and turned it off and on and off and on for great lengthy sessions of gentle persuasion, and until just before the New Year, it would eventually come on.  But alas, I seem to have lost my touch.  Certain Man never needed “The Touch” it seemed.  Have any of you ever noticed how things work properly for the man of the house?  And malfunction with annoying regularity when they are nowhere to be found?

A few weeks ago marked a change in the light’s entire demeanor and attitude.  We had a few days of dimming and brightening, then some of that dreadful buzz, and finally NOTHING.  I don’t know about the rest of you,  but I really cannot function without a light in my laundry room.  I complained loudly and lengthily  mentioned it to Certain Man, and he found the sudden (!) demise unacceptable, too.  However, it chose to go out at an inopportune time and there was interference to fixing it, due to schedules and weekends, etc.. So I hauled a spare lamp in from the family room, put a nice, bright replacement bulb into it and “made do” with what I had.

Certain Man took the light apart and peered about at the innards of the receptacle.  He determined that there were some serious problems with the mechanism, but also that one of the long bulbs was burnt out.  He stood at the door of the laundry room and weighed his options.

“I think I will go into ACE Hardware and see what they have for a replacement light,” he finally decided.  “I can buy replacement bulbs for this one and it would probably work, but maybe not right.  I kinda’ think I would be happier with replacing the light.”

I was okay with whatever he decided.   I was sure that it would result in illumination of my laundry room, and I didn’t much care how he did it as long as it got done.  He went out  and came trudging back with two new light bulbs.  ACE Hardware didn’t have any replacement lights that pleased him.  He put the new bulbs in, tried the switch, and lo! And behold!  LIGHT!  I was ecstatic.  But he wasn’t.  He said, “We are going to have to replace that light.  It just has too much wrong with it.  I have a gift card to Lowes.  Maybe I will run in there one of these days and see what they have.”

A few days later, he came home with a box from Lowes that said “florescent ceiling lamp” on it.  I wondered whether he would put it up, or if he just had it on reserve in case he suddenly needed it.  But then the light in the laundry room started acting up again.  It was taking its sweet time about coming on, and when it did come on it was  sometimes dim.

“I don’t know, Sweetheart,”  I said to him the other day.  “That light in the laundry room isn’t acting right.  It takes a while to come on and its just not right somehow.”

“I know,” he said, looking thoughtful.  “I guess I am just going to have to change it.”

Over the next few days, I thought about it occasionally, especially when I moved the box to get something out of the closet in the entryway.  It honestly didn’t bother me very much.  Certain Man has been operating with four stitches in one finger, has gotten new chickens, and has been especially busy with deacon calls because of the extreme cold and Christmas and PEOPLE.   (He has also been dealing with a beleaguering weariness that troubles me, though I do think that some late night watching of his favorite sport, FOOTBALL, and in particular, his beloved Buckeyes, could have something to do with that.) But I knew he would get it done sometime.  Besides, once this faulty light was on, it did a fairly good job.

Then yesterday, I spent the day on Nettie, and besides that, pretty much just did what had to be done to get laundry washed, dried, folded and put away.  I went to bed before Certain Man finished watching those Buckeyes win their game.  This morning, I headed for Greenwood to pick up my Sweet Mama.  She had a dentist appointment, needed to get her glasses repaired following a bad fall at church over a week ago, and wanted to look for a new recliner for the one she has that is literally “letting her down on the side.”  We ate lunch and then I flew into Boscov’s to exchange some things from Cecilia’s’ Mother and sisters from Christmas.  Then I took Mama back home, filled her med box, went through some mail, stopped some things off at my Aunt Freda’s for my mama, and then came home to Shady Acres.

The house was unusually dark.  I peered through the dark laundry room, through the dark kitchen, on to the dark family room.  Middle Daughter was in her father’s recliner, listening to music with Cecilia.

“Whew!  It sure is dark in here!” I said as I came into the dark kitchen and flipped on a few lights.  “Where’s Dad?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t seen him,” said Middle Daughter.  She seemed unconcerned.

“His truck is in the pavilion,” I said.  “I saw it when I pulled into the lane.”  I went out to check, and he was in the truck, talking to his sister. He seemed uninclined to talk to me, so I wandered back in and went to trade my boots for my sandals.  I heard him come in.

“Where’s Mom?” I heard him ask Middle Daughter.

“I don’t know.  She was here–”

“I’m here,” I said, coming around the corner.

They were both looking at me with “the look.”  (I hate that look.  It means I missed something very important.)

“You didn’t even notice, did you?” Questioned my long suffering spouse.  “The light?”

“”I had all the lights turned off so she would turn it on,” said Deborah, “But she came on in and never even noticed.”

I turned to see the laundry room flooded with light.  A clean, new, gorgeous efficient light was shedding a wonderful clear light all over the room, giving it a whole new brightness.

And I was properly grateful and delighted and grateful and delighted, and said so over and over because, in truth, I WAS!

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And my heart gives grateful praise for a husband who looks so well to the ways of this household.  I am so blessed.

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January 13, 2015 · 1:40 am

Our Girl Nettie has a Birthday

On a grey January day, we celebrated Our Girl Nettie’s birthday.  She had an appointment in Lewes, and then we shopped for a new winter hat at Peebles with the 40 dollars that she had stowed in her sock-shaped change purse just before we left home.  This was a big decision, but eventually we settled on a warm cowl-necked circular thing that she could pull up for a hood and she was satisfied.  So was I.  It looks very nice on her and the coloring is great for her hair.

And then it was off for her best surprise ever.    On our way to Lewes, I had told her that there was going to be another surprise for her today.  Earlier, she  was so pleased with her new jeans and the birthday cards she had received, plus the whole church had sung “Happy Birthday” to her yesterday, to her great delight.  But this was Monday morning, and it was rainy and it was cold and she was feeling grumpy.  She looked at me with skepticism dripping from her body language like the rain that was dripping from the eaves of the garage as we backed out.

“A bad surprise or a good surprise?” she asked darkly.

“It’s a terrible surprise,” I responded brightly.  “I’m gonna’ take you to the doctor and have your leg cut off!”

“Mare-Ann!!!”  And she laughed.  “I know ‘at ain’t right!”

“You’re right, it isn’t!  I’m going to take you to the beauty parlor and have them shave off all your beautiful hair!”

“No, you’re not!”  She was quick to respond.  “Wha’ you sayin’ at for?”

“Nettie, have I ever planned a surprise for you that was ‘bad’?”

“No–”

“Well, then, why, when it is your birthday, would I be planning a ‘bad’ surprise for you?”

“I ‘on’t know.”

“Well,  I’m not!  This is a good surprise.  You are going to love it!

“I ‘on’t know ’bout ‘at!”

“You will just have to trust me, but I know you will love it.”

And so we went to the doctor where we waited for almost two hours past our appointment, but then got in and got out in a little bit of no time, stopped at Peebles and now were headed to Cracker Barrel, where (at least I hoped) the surprise would be waiting.  She knew about going out to eat for her birthday, but she didn’t know about who might be there.

We pulled up to Cracker Barrel at 12 noon.  I got OGN’s walker and noticed someone waving at me from a car just across the lane.  Good!  Nettie came around the back of the car and got her walker and headed out to towards the restaurant.  But just as she started, her sister, her only sister, stepped out of the car and began to walk towards her.

“Nettie,” I said to my gal, who was heading out across the parking lot at great speed. “Look who is here!”

She stopped, and looked disbelievingly at her beloved sister.  As it registered, I thought she  was going to cry.

“Sally!  It’s Sally!”  She squealed in disbelief.  She covered the short distance between the two  of them and grabbed her in a big hug over the top of her precious walker.  “How did you know to come here???”

Sally laughed and told her a big story about just pulling into the parking lot and suddenly seeing her, but Nettie, caught in the  intense emotion of the moment neither listened nor believed.  The truth was, I had invited Sally last week and decided not to tell Nettie in case something happened at the last minute to mess the plans up.

What a grand time we had, talking and laughing and eating in the big room at Cracker Barrel with the fire burning so brightly.  I learned things about Our Girl Nettie’s family that I had never known, and Nettie reveled in the presence of her  sister and this “best gift” — that her sister came to Lewes to surprise her for her birthday.  When the waitress brought a piece of Coca Cola cake and some ice cream and had some of the staff sing “Happy Birthday” to her, Nettie’s delight was complete.

Then we finished up, and when I went to pay the bill, Sandra already had it in her possession.  “I’ve got this,” she said.  “I have a gift card and I want to pay it.  You can leave the tip, but I am going to pay.”  We had some discussion, causing her to produce the card to prove that she did, in fact, have it in her possession, and I finally gave in.  “Besides,” she said, smiling across the table at Nettie, “It’s Nettie’s birthday and I don’t have a present.  This is something I can do for her!”  This pleased Nettie exceedingly much and we gathered our belongings, and headed home.

The rain pelted down, and the day was grey, but beside me in the mini-van, Nettie rode happily and contentedly.  Such a happy day for Our Girl Nettie.  She told me tonight that it was her happiest birthday ever.

“Ever?” I asked.  “When you were a little girl, didn’t your Mama make cake for your birthday?”

“Yeah, she did.  Had birfday cake,” she acknowledged.

“So those were happy birthdays, weren’t they?”

“Yeah, ‘ey were happy.”

“So this maybe wasn’t the happiest birthday ever, but maybe it was the happiest for a long, long time?”

“You got ‘at right.  It was because I got to see my sister.”  And she smiled her sweet smile.

Happy Birthday, Our Girl Nettie.  I hope you have a grand many more!

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