STRETCHMARKS

Balm for Bombs

I was exhausted and grumpy, looking for aisle seat 13C as I boarded a U.S. Airways flight from Phoenix, Arizona to Columbus, Ohio. Five weeks is a long time to be away from home.  The only cure for homesickness is to go home.

 

As I approached my assigned seat, I noticed two people in lively discussion about seat numbers. “I am not sitting in the middle for anyone” I declared to myself. “I just want to go to sleep and rest.”

 

A young man begged, “Please, would you be willing to switch aisle seats with me so that I can sit next to my wife?” “Sure, that's fine.” No middle seat for me today, thank you very much.

 

I sat next to an Asian couple and prepared my "nest" for the flight. “Hi, my name is Rosie.  This is my husband, Matthew.” “Hi, Rosie.  Hi, Matthew.”  She tried to engage me in converstaion with one question after another. Please, God, I want to rest.  She reminded me of my pleasant but inquisitive mother.

 

Before take-off she offered me ginger candy. “You like ginger candy? It's good for the stomach. I get good bargain at Marshall's.” “Yes, I love ginger candy. Thank you.”

 

Her inquiry continued, “Have you been on vacation?”  “No, I've been in Long Beach, California, helping my sister Deborah and brother-in-law, John; he is terminally ill. I'm anxious to get home and see my family.”

 

She mentioned going back to her homeland so I asked, “Where is your homeland?” She responded, “Viet Nam.”

Without further thought I blurted out, “Oh, my husband was in Viet Nam in the war.” I couldn't believe what I just said.  How stupid!  I was certain I had offended her.

“Where was he?” “He was near Tuy Hoa, then Pleiku; his base camp was Cam Ranh Bay.” She nodded. “We escaped in 1975 in a small boat. My husband was in the Navy and he knew how to drive boat.”

 

Nosy Rosie asked, “Did you travel anywhere besides Long Beach?” “Yes, I took a short drive to Huntington Beach by myself.”

 

“Did you go to Little Saigon?  It's close.  We live in Anaheim.”

“Actually, I did.  I made a wrong turn and ended up in Little Saigon. I was tempted to visit a fabric store that advertised silk fabrics but thought I better not. Maybe they don't speak English...all the signs in that area were in Viet Namese.” (I was also driving John's Cadillac which looked a bit like a Pimp's car with the paint job, whitewall tires and all.) I told myself it was time to “get outta Dodge”.

 

Rosie offered shopping tips as well.  “When you go, you must bargain," she advised. "They say, 'Five dollah', you say 'No. Four dollah', then they will know you understand. You must bargain.” She jotted down names of other stores I should visit next time: Phuoc Loc Tho, Lee Sandwich for good baguettes and Banh Mi Cali for dessert. Then came the shocker statement...

 

“When you go, tell them your husband is American soldier. They will help you. We love freedom!”

 

I fought back tears. It had been thirty-six years and three days since my GI Joe had returned from Viet Nam...and now I heard the best “Thank You” a military wife could hear. I recalled the ugly remarks and verbal bombs hurled against Viet Nam veterans and the shame they've endured.  I was angry.  These dear people were genuinely grateful for our soldiers and the freedom they gained. 

 In a few short minutes I experienced an emotional roller coaster as I sorted out this encounter. This whole thing had been a set-up...the switched seats...the questions...the freedom statement etc. God set me up! Rosie's declaration provided a healing balm for the emotional trauma we experienced during that painful period in our nation's history.

 

As we approached Columbus she asked about my home, family and who would be picking me up at the airport. I told her my husband and possibly my granddaughters would be there. She announced, "I want to meet your husband!"  She told me she wished she had time to come to visit our home.  Wouldn't that have been interesting?

 

We became separated as we left the plane and headed to Baggage Claim. I found Joe right away and told him of my conversation. He was stunned. As we waited by the luggage carousel, Rosie spotted me and hurried over to meet Joe.

 

She extended her hand, then embraced him and introduced her husband. She asked my GI Joe, “Have you ever been back to Viet Nam?” “No..." he hesitated, "I never wanted to go back.” Rosie smiled and said, “You should go. They will be friendly to you.”

 

I never asked her last name...didn't take a photo...what was I thinking? But every time I enjoy a piece of ginger candy, I think of Rosie and Matthew from Anaheim.

 

 

  

 

Dedicated to our courageous veterans, especially those who served in Viet Nam. 

Thank you...we love freedom!

What's for Dinner?

I dreaded the often asked question: What’s for dinner?  I didn’t like the groans or rolled eyes when I gave an unfavorable answer.  Thankfully my children were never without something to eat. 

It doesn’t matter if dinner (or supper) consists of organic fruits and vegetables or packaged food…or whether it is served on fine china, paper plates or eaten out of hand…consumed outdoors or in a formal dining room.  Shared stories, laughter and good food are staples on the menu of my favorite meals.

I have great memories of “from scratch” meals served by my mother, grandmother and aunts.  I am one of six children; we quickly learned to take our full portion first time around during family-style meals.  It might also explain why some of us eat very fast.  Someone usually knocked over a water glass and the guilty child’s knees knocked while Daddy grimaced and warned us to “Be more careful!”  We enjoyed lots of laughter and banter while gathered at the supper table—the birthplace of some family legends.

My husband had three simple table rules for our three sons: Do not talk with your mouth full of food; do not come to the table with dirty fingernails; do NOT smack your lips while eating.   My requests: be thankful and do not complain about “strange or icky” foods.  They took me a little too seriously on the last one.

One evening I tried to make a special meat dish (from a cheap cut) and tied it with butcher’s twine to hold it together.  I gasped when I saw them trying to eat the twine and meat.  “You don’t have to eat the string too!” I cried.  They responded, “We knew you would yell at us if we complained!”  We laughed at the stupidity of it all.  Never serve meat with twine intact!

As the boys grew older they ate faster so they could resume play with the neighborhood kids.  While they shoveled food in their mouths I firmly said, “BOYS, masticate!”  In synchronized movement, they looked up in wide-eyed disbelief.  “The word is masticate; it means to chew thoroughly,” I added.  Awkward snickers turned into belly-laughs--medicine for the soul and digestive system.      

Storytelling during mealtimes became more important to us when grandchildren were added to the family.  Granddaughter Mycah often initiated this tradition, especially when extended family members were gathered.  “Uncle John, tell us the story about when you were hiding in the tree cussing and your Dad walked by!” she begged.  The others would cheer, “Yes, tell us that one again!”  As our family grew larger we seated the children at a separate table; then one day we realized how much we missed the stories--the ones passed down from generation to generation.

Proverbs 17:1 offers an overview of dinner in any home: “A meal of bread and water in contented peace is better than a banquet spiced with quarrels.”  Wouldn’t it be a pity to miss those teachable moments and legendary stories?  I’m hungry for some great storytelling, delicious food and belly laughter. What’s for dinner?

 

Here's Looking at You!

My granddaughters and I visited Kingwood Center in Mansfield, Ohio on a beautiful spring day.  We admired the colorful tulips and trees in bloom and threw food to the ducks and peacocks gathered near the pond. 

  Mycah watched the proud peacock spread his colorful plumage.  "EEWWW!  That creeps me out!"  I asked, "Why?  It's so beautiful."  She explained, "It looks like hundreds of eyes looking at me!"  Now that's a new perspective.

 In this era of social media, it seems like hundreds of eyes are looking at each of us at all times.  Most of us are unaware of someone capturing our activity on iPhones, digital cameras or video recorders…and the possible repercussions.  It is an unsettling fact of our present world.

 Technological advances make it possible for amateurs to broadcast via internet to a worldwide audience within seconds.  Discretionary use of such tools is another matter. 

 Just watch news outlets and discover the role that instant imaging plays in outbursts on airliners, severe weather reports, eyewitnesses to accidents, murders and political uprisings.  Moral and sexual misconduct has been exploited at the expense of the unsuspecting.  People lose jobs, go into deep depression, go to prison…and take their own lives because of public exposure viewed via media outlets.  On the brighter side, some are propelled into fame by sudden exposure of rare talent and our world is enriched.  

Did you grow up in great fear (not awe) that the "ginormous Godseye in the sky" might watch every bit of mischief in which you engaged?  A few avoided outdoor play.  Just because…

 Are all of these images displayed true to the original?  Savvy users of media can alter images with a few clicks of a computer mouse.  The power wielded via the internet is insatiable for many who long for god-like influence.

 I now understand that God does watch me at all times but I need not be afraid; He has my back.  His motive is not to focus on reasons to punish me but to demonstrate His great love for me…and to capture my heart.  He desires that for you as well.

 This Old Testament scripture in 2 Chroniciles 16:9 references God's visual capabilities: "For the eyes of the Lord move to and fro throughout the earth to strongly support those whose heart is completely His..."  

                                            Here's looking at you!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Helix Nebula--Photo credits: NASA, ESA, C.R. O'Dell (Vanderbilt University), M. Meixner and P. McCullough

Second Chances

Until recently, I had never spoken face to face with someone who had an organ transplant--someone given a second chance to become healthy.

I caught a glimpse of my friend Jerry as he worked in the produce department at Kroger’s.  He looked healthier than I’ve ever seen him—pretty amazing for a man who received a pancreas transplant last summer.

Jerry had Type I diabetes since early childhood and prayed thirty-eight years for a miracle.  He had been on “the list” for months…and then the phone call came in the middle of the night.  There was a previous attempt to implant a pancreas but that donor organ had received trauma.  The surgeon told him he needed a perfect pancreas from someone under age twenty-one.

Jerry explained, “I don’t have to take insulin anymore and my eyesight is being restored!”  I was in awe.  “Wow!  You really did get your miracle.”  I repeated, “That’s amazing—simply amazing!”  With tears in his eyes he commented, “Yes, but it’s bittersweet.  Someone had to die—a young person—so that I could have a second chance at life.”  I added, “This must give you new appreciation for Jesus giving his life for you.”  “Oh, yeah” he agreed.

I had a flashback to a conversation between my son Jonathan and me years ago.  He stood at the counter of the Bureau of Motor Vehicles to complete paperwork for his driver’s license.  The clerk asked, “Do you want to be an organ donor?”  “Yes!” he announced.  I was taken aback.  He was a minor—why didn’t she ask me? 

She snapped his photo and soon presented him with his first official driver’s license.  It was a proud moment for us both--so why couldn’t I catch my breath?

As soon as we got to the car I asked him about his decision to be an organ donor.  “Don’t you want to be an organ donor?” he asked.  “NO.  I’m not even sure how God feels about such things,” was my lame response.

“Well, why don’t you ask Him?” he quizzed.  Good question.  “I don’t know…I’ve read stories about people who have experienced strange cravings and emotions after receiving someone else’s organ.  That seems creepy to me.  Maybe there’s more to the whole process than we know,” I replied. 

He continued, “Here’s the way I look at it.  Suppose someone needs one of my organs in order to live.  Then suppose that person has never heard of Jesus and the possibility of living eternally with Him in heaven…then I have given them a second chance to live and to make that choice.”

I smelled fresh humble pie.  “Wow.  I never considered organ donation like that.  I will give this more thought.”  Talk about some stretch marks!

I shared this story with happy, healthy Jerry.  He remarked, “That’s pretty awesome thinking for a sixteen year old!”   

I  have a universal blood type so I donate blood—a living sacrifice—but I confess that I still have not checked yes to be an organ donor.  My driver's license is due for renewal in a few months...   

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 For a comprehensive look at organ donation in the USA, visit www.organdonor.gov for information.  Here are 3 facts from this website:

113,605 people are waiting for an organ donation.

18 people die each day waiting for an organ.

1 organ donor can save  up to 8 lives.

Unsung Heroes

Our society is saturated with adoration and idolization of entertainers, sports figures and politicians—people we call our heroes.  Sadly, we are quick to dismantle the same folks when they show any weakness or frailty.   But what about those folks who live in your neighborhood—the ones you really know—the ones who love without condition?

There are many unsung heroes that live in my community—people who go above and beyond to demonstrate the Father’s heart for another soul.  These often shy, unsung heroes are not motivated by money or greed or ambition.  Most don’t want to be acknowledged for their expressions of love. They know a good investment when they see one and realize that one day—maybe a long time from now—there will be immeasurable dividends.

For decades, Jim’s wife has battled mental illness and yet he has remained faithful to his covenant with her.  He has known embarrassment, ridicule and loneliness…and still he loves.

Jane visits her brain-injured grandson in the nursing facility almost daily.  His room is decorated in his favorite team’s colors.  She wipes his drool and tells him funny stories; she understands his slurred speech when he responds to her.  It’s humbling to watch.

Betty has been married to her sweetie fifty-plus years.  Now this once vibrant man depends on her to move him from room to room.  They’ve developed a language all their own to signal for help.  They have learned love in all its forms.

On Sunday evenings, Arlene belts out Louise’s favorite hymns.   An audience of one…but maybe the angels sing along too!

Lucy cares for handicapped individuals; some have been in her tender care for years and are like family members.  She’s not embarrassed to bring them to family weddings.  Oh, to be loved like that!

Randy and his grandsons clean driveways and sidewalks for the widows on his street.  Dennis adds value and dignity to widows and orphans by providing heat in their homes.   That’s enough to warm the hardest heart!

Josh sends notes to encourage those on difficult journeys.  Sandy generously gives from her fixed income to strengthen another in hard times.  May God reward them openly.

On sleepless nights, alone in her apartment, Wanza prays for family and friends.  Only when she gets to heaven will she know the full impact of those whispered conversations with God.

Jack loves flower gardens; he plants hundreds of tulips and daffodils in his wooded yard.  The Creator’s heart is showcased right there in the woods and the sight makes my heart leap for joy!

Mike makes sure a fatherless child gets his share of pizza.  Joe shares his bountiful sweet corn harvest with friends and neighbors.  This equals sweet communion for soul and body.

Love is patient…love is kind…love always bears up…always trusts, always hopes, always endures…takes its delight in the truth.  1 Corinthians 13

Mary cheers for the football team even though her “not-so-perfect” child will never play.  David forgave the negligent driver for killing his loved one. 

Love is NOT…jealous, boastful, proud, rude or selfish, nor easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs, does not gloat over other people’s sins.  1 Corinthians 13

 

Let’s celebrate those unsung heroes in our neighborhoods who express the Father's heart by adding value and dignity to all our lives!

 

Waste Management

It’s the season to purge, organize, prioritize—also known as waste management of time, resources and relationships.  Resolutions?  Nah---I procrastinate too much to get around to those.  But there’s something about a clean slate—a new calendar, a new year and a fresh start that gives one hope. 

Purging requires one to throw out stuff--a painful task when one is a keeper--a source of stretch marks, if you will.  However, there are exceptions.

I opened my refrigerator door one recent Monday morning only to be reminded that I really am learning disabled.  Wouldn’t you think that a
Golden Buckeye Card carrier should have learned by now that everything under the sun has an expiration date?  It’s not that I don’t know, but my procrastination makes allowances for crud to grow in my life.

Crud—also known as mold, mildew and toxins contaminate food and people.  Why would an intelligent person allow such things?  Too busy?  Too lazy?  In denial?  I pondered this malady as I cleaned and detoxified the refrigerator. 

Wait a minute.  Waste not, want not, right?  I could just scrape off the mold and use what is left in the jar.  What’s the worst that could happen?  What if I just poured fresh milk into the clabbered milk?  Maybe that principle in Luke 5:37 applies: And no one puts new wine into old wineskins.  For the new wine would burst the wineskins, spilling the wine and ruining the skins.  The glass won’t burst but…oh, never mind. 

I muttered, "Dear Lord, what if I died and someone discovered this disgusting mess?"  What would they think?  That poor widow…she just gave up on life.  Maybe she didn't know that cleanliness is next to Godliness.  Maybe just one resolution...

I thought of relationships I have had in the past that grew toxic.  How did I let that happen?  Simply put--I ignored some of the basics of a healthy relationship.  There are needy folks that pretty much suck the life out of you.  Others are dumpsters looking for a convenient and safe environment to dump their garbage.  Only problem is, they ignore the NO DUMPING sign.  The inner voice yells, "Clean up needed in Land of Denial!"

Food and medicines have expiration dates that should not be ignored. Rancorous relationships should have expiration dates as well. King Solomon's Waste Management 101 is found in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.  Verses 1 & 6 relate to this subject: There is a right time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth… A right time to search and another to count your losses; a right time to hold on and another to let go.  (The Message)  

The beginning of this New Year is a great time to examine ourselves for toxicity and purge where needed. There is something quite appealing about clean vessels ready to be filled with good things and healthy relationships!

On My Father's Side--On My Mother's Side

Joseph and Mary were no different than other anxious young parents expecting their firstborn child.  No doubt they wondered who he would look like…would he be strong as Joseph?  Would this child be thoughtful like Mary?  Will he make a difference in this world?  And the nagging question: What if he isn’t “perfect”?

But there were differences.  Each was visited by an angel to confirm the identity of this precious bundle of joy, so they knew beforehand his name—Jesus, the Son of God.  Of course he’ll be perfect!  Prophets foretold his birth hundreds of years before this "Word became flesh and dwelled among us" happened.  Would he be like Elijah or Isaiah?  I imagine that even with this knowledge they had questions.  I know the angel said...but what about....?  What if he...?  What will we do when he wants to go off on his own?  

This precocious child, Jesus, knew who He was and what He was called to do.  The lyrics of this song written by Felicia Shifflet indicate His youthful knowledge of the difference between eternal and earthly matters.

On my Father’s Side—On My Mother’s Side

Just a young boy in the temple one day

Shared with the doctors; they were so amazed.

Never had they seen one so young speak so swift

They asked him many questions, conversation went like this…

What’s your name son?

On my mother’s side—my name is Jesus

On my father’s side—they call me Emmanuel

How old are you?

On my mother’s side—I’m now 12 years

On my father’s side—I’ve just always been

Where are you from?

On my mother’s side—I’m from Bethlehem

On my father’s side—It’s New Jerusalem

What’s your plan?

On my mother’s side—I’ll be crucified but…

On my father’s side—in three days I’ll arise

Bridge: He is the Son of God and yet the Son of Man

And I can’t help but wonder how Joseph must have felt

Thru an open door that day he heard his son reply.

He said, “You see, I’m the King of Kings on my father’s side.”

 

Jesus felt the tug-of-war between earthly and heavenly matters.  Don't you feel it as well? I believe it is because God, according to King Solomon, planted eternity in the human heart.

 Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.  Ecclesiastes 3:11 (NLT)

Joseph and Mary struggled to make sense of it all.  We cannot see the whole scope of God's work from beginning to end, but just like Joseph and Mary, we can trust that it will be accomplished.

That gnawing, empty place in your heart is meant to be filled by the Eternal One whose name is Jesus--on His mother's side.  On His Father's side, His name is Emmauel--God with us.   Now that's what I call a bundle of joy!

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Maggie was seated next to me in the backseat of the car as four of us headed to Susan’s retirement party.  As we meandered through the countryside we chit chatted about Susan's future plans and the great meal awaiting us at Ada’s Catering

Maggie ignored the chatter and flatly stated: “My mother died yesterday and I can’t think of one good memory of her!”  I was stunned.  “Not even one?” I asked.  “Not even one…” she declared. 

I could not imagine such a bereft childhood.  My first thought of my mother is laughter; she makes everyone laugh and is so fun.  She continued, “My mother was not a nice person.”  She gave no more explanation—just a seven word summary. 

We arrived at Ada's and the awkward silence ended when Nancy opened the door to the dining room.  Oh, the smell of delicious comfort food.  Out of our mouths came "Yum!"  Perhaps this would trigger a pleasant memory for Maggie.  No response.  Fifteen women talked non-stop during our family-style meal, but I could not get her statement out of my mind. 

I prodded “What about your father, Maggie?  What was he like?”  Her eyes danced.  “I loved my Daddy. He was the best.  We had this ritual on school days that was very special.”  “Well…tell me about it!” I begged as I savored my last bite of apple pie.

My father was a professor at the college in our town in Pennsylvania.  He walked to work—the same way I walked to school.  There was a rock wall on the way with a loose rock.  He would hide notes for me there and I would write notes to him and leave them in our secret spot.

I responded, “That is one of the dearest stories I’ve ever heard.  Do your children know this tale of love notes tucked between a rock and a hard place?”  No, I’ve never shared it.

“But you must share it!” I insisted.  “What kinds of things would he write to you?”

Sometimes he told me how much he loved me—you know—my red hair and freckles that looked hand-painted just for me.  He liked to watch me skip down the street when I thought no one was looking.  If I struggled at school he told me: Never give up.  I believe in you!

What kinds of things did you write to your Daddy?

I confided my secret crush on a cute boy in my class.  He didn’t scold me.  I loved that about him.  I told him what I dreamed of being when I grew up and he let me dream.  He watched me decorate my doll house so he realized I just might become an Interior Decorator.  He cushioned the sad part of me—the part that didn’t understand my mother.  It was his gift to me.

Maggie’s father was intentional about expressing love for his daughter.  He spent quality time to write the notes; his act of service found a place to hide the notes.  He wrote words of affirmation which she could physically touch and read again and again.  The five love languages (as described by Dr. Gary Chapman) combined to make the gift exchange.  Her Daddy was fluent in love languages!

Do you wrestle to give the perfect gift—especially words of affirmation?  It’s good to say I love you or I delight in you but those phrases hold little imagination.  The Hebrew language in the Old Testament offers lovely examples of specific expressions of love.

King David wrote in Psalm 139:17,18  How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How vast is the sum of them!  If I should count them, they would outnumber the sand.  When I awake, I am still with You.

King Solomon wrote: Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm. For love is as strong as death, its jealousy as enduring as the grave. Love flashes like fire, the brightest kind of flame. Song of Solomon 8:6 (NLT)

I treasure this image of God’s love found in Isaiah 49:16.  Behold, I have indelibly imprinted (tattooed) a picture of you on the palm of each of my hands… (Amplified bible)

Who is on your Gift Exchange list?  Make your gift something memorable—even if it is tucked between a rock and a hard place!

 

 

 

What Does it Take to Feed a Family of Five?

It’s a simple question with a complex answer. 

Isaiah, almost five years old, was eating chicken strips with salsa, sour cream and shredded cheese.  “Is this chicken from a real chicken?” he asked.  “Yes it is!” I answered.  He looked surprised.  “And we can thank a cow for the sour cream and cheese you’re having too!” I announced.  That information was almost too much for him to handle.  His brain was processing as we began a discussion about how we get our food.  

The next week we were seated at his home with his sister, Elizabeth and parents, Jonathan and Emma.  He volunteered to ask God to bless the food prepared for us.  “Dear Jesus, thank you for this food.  Bless it to our bodies.  Amen.”

The food source dialogue began again.  “We have the rice farmer to thank for the brown rice.” I said.  He had helped me prepare honey baked chicken and corn bread muffins so he chimed in “And the chicken farmer!”  Then we really got down to basics and listed many people involved in this meal.

Someone grew spices—curry and mustard.

A beekeeper collected honey from the bees. 

A farmer grew chickens, providing meat and eggs.

Some grain farmers grew corn & wheat in our muffins.

A dairy farmer milked cows to provide milk and butter.

Vineyard growers provided grapes.

What about transportation?  Farmers and delivery trucks took the goods to market for us to buy.

Farm workers and migrant workers picked crops.

Someone designed and made packages for the food.

People designed advertising so that we could see what was available.

Daddy had to work at a job to make money to buy the food.

Someone printed the money for Mommy to use to buy groceries.

Daddy added, “What about the dishes and tableware?  A silversmith made tableware to use and potters made the dishes!”

Our list was getting really long and involved.  Should we begin the blessing again?  I looked down at the table.  “Oh, my!  This is the best one of all.  Your Daddy made this walnut table from wood grown on my grandpa’s farm.  Your Great Grandpa Smith and Papa Joe cut the wood so that Daddy could make the table.  Isn’t that amazing?”

Jonathan told him that he made the table at his Uncle Charlie’s house, using his tools and workroom.  The table is a family table in the truest sense of the word.

So what does it take to feed a family of five?  It takes a multitude of people with vision, skills and persistence in doing their jobs. 

During our sweet communion around the family table, we discovered how dependent we are on each other for our daily needs.  Asking God our Provider to bless our meal took on new meaning.  This was not just a simple weekday meal—it was a meal of Thanksgiving for all those involved in providing our food.

 

 

 

 We took this photo on a recent trip to a farm.

 

 

 

 

 Jonathan picking grapes as a young boy.

 

 

 

 

 

  We are grateful for farmers and gardeners who grow our food!

  

 

 

 

The family table

 

 

 

 

 

 Happy Thanksgiving to all...

and may you enjoy sweet communion as you gather around your family table!

 

 

 

He That Planteth a Tree is the Servant of God

He that planteth a tree is the servant of God; he provideth a kindness for many generations, and faces that he hath not seen shall bless him.   ~ Henry Van Dyke~

I live in central Ohio where trees are plentiful; hardwoods, pines and apple orchards supply beauty and bounty for us.  Relatives visiting from other states often remark about our tree-filled landscapes.  Each of our four seasons is marked with breath-taking beauty. 

 

 

 

Those who plant trees propagate hope and a future.  The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit.  ~Nelson Henderson~

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Wise folks considered the truth in this Welsh proverb and planted in hope of bumper crops of fruit: A seed hidden in the heart of an apple is an orchard invisible.  As an apple lover I am very grateful for their foresight.

In The Wisdom of the Sands, Antoine de Saint-Exupery wrote: The tree is more than first a seed, then a stem, then a living trunk, and then dead timber.  The tree is a slow, enduring force straining to win the sky.

John Muir wrote: I never saw a discontented tree.  They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do.  They go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the sun two million miles a day, and through space heaven knows how fast and far!

Our world is chaotic at present and it comforts me to know that some things will remain constant as stated in Genesis 8:22.  “So long as the earth exists, sowing time and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, and day and night will not cease.” 

So whether you are a tree hugger, tree logger or somewhere in between, take an oxygen-rich breath and enjoy the beauty, bounty and life given in the trees.  Then...consider planting at least one tree for future generations. 

 

Circling the Drain

“There is a beginning and an ending for everything that is alive.  In between is living.”  Bryan Mellonie

I heard a comedian refer to some elderly folks, “Why they’re so old they’re circling the drain!”  That imagery made me laugh.  Watching it happen is another matter.  My mother recently fractured her pelvis and has been in a nursing center for rehabilitation.  While these centers offer needed assistance for families, it is definitely not good advertisement for the aging process.

During regular visits with her I have noticed many similarities between the beginning and ending of life.  Imaginary friends are common among infants and elderly folks.  Add to this: Toothless grins.  Diapers.  Bibs.  Caregivers.  Dependency. Babbling.  Lack of privacy.  Loss of dignity.  Icky food.  Repetitive routines.  Flash cards to test cognition.  Naps, nightmares and disrupted sleep.  Cries for help and tantrums. 

I watched group therapy one Friday afternoon as eight female patients in wheelchairs were placed in a circle.  Four physical  therapists threw in four colorful beach balls to begin their “play”.  They kicked and giggled at their feeble attempts; most seemed to enjoy the diversion and camaraderie.

Andy peeked in the room and asked to get in on the action.  He wore a Vietnam Veteran ball cap, sat erect and seemed intent on a mission.  I asked a therapist, “Isn’t he too old to be a Vietnam vet?”  Mary said, “We’re not sure but we think he is around eighty years old.  He must have been a career military man.  We do know that he flew helicopters and transported three different presidents of our country!” 

“That is amazing!” I answered.  Oh, how I would love to hear the stories trapped in his Alzheimer-ridden mind.  Just then he reached over and stroked Betty’s arm—the way a husband reaches for his wife just to be sure of her presence.  Kelly said, “You might remind him he’s married!”  Mary noted that his wife comes daily to visit but he seldom recognizes her.

That reminded me of another time I was caring for my aunt who lived in an Alzheimer’s unit.  Bob was always on the make and asked Shirley,  “Hey, baby, you want to bump bones?”  A staff member redirected him but he returned a few minutes later.  Shirley acknowledged his advances with extended arm as if he was royalty.  Some desires never wane!

Most in this group are temporary residents recovering from surgery, fractures or other chronic diseases.  Phillis, Linda and Robbie were tethered to oxygen tanks to ease their labored breathing.  Gladys had open heart surgery; Betty sported a new pace maker.  Darlene broke both feet in a fall.  Linda and Wanza (Mom) told funny stories to brighten the dismal atmosphere.  

The therapists watched sports on a flat screen TV and joked among themselves about daily life.  At a glance they seem detached but this is vital for survival in this line of work.  Mary admitted, “I like to work with this generation.  They’re kind and polite.  The next generation—the Baby Boomers—are demanding and selfish.  I don’t know if I can handle very much of their attitudes.” 

I looked around this circle and wondered… What kinds of dreams did they have as children?  Did they work at something they enjoyed?  Were they loved?  So many treasured stories exist in those minds—so much wisdom and experience.  But now vitality and vigor are drained.

Therapists changed games to work different muscles; they started to balk.  Mary prodded, “Just two more minutes.”  These precious souls in fragile bodies were wheeled back to their rooms, one by one.

Andy returned with a bright purple teddy bear--on another mission.  “Oh, no!  Ann has been at it again!” Joe remarks.   Ann, a.k.a. Robin Hood, is involved in redistribution of stuffed animals in the center.   Andy was the latest recipient of her good deeds.

In the living room Carl sat motionless for forty-five minutes.  Suddenly, he stretched his six-foot-four-inch frame straight up and yelled, “What the hell am I supposed to be doing?”  Many of us have wondered the same thing at some point in our lives.

I have incurred more stretch marks these last few weeks as I have witnessed those circling the drain of this temporary life.  I talked with my friend Cindy in the hall one morning--both of us struggle with the role reversals with our Moms. 

King David wrote: Your eyes could see me as an embryo, but in your book all my days were already written; my days had been shaped before any of them existed.  Psalm 139:16 Complete Jewish Bible

 

Infants arrive from heaven, fresh from the Father’s heart.  These patients may soon face their Maker and will see His heart.  Their failing minds and bodies seem ready; I pray their spirits are as well.  It must be a welcome possibility for those who believe!

Breakfast at Brandywine Falls

I could not have imagined the outcome of a gourmet meal with six strangers at a Bed & Breakfast in September 2008. 

It was great to have time alone in this rustic setting—to listen to the soothing sounds of Brandywine waterfall--to reflect on rocky times in our lives and the many currents that had forged smooth places for us over the past forty years.  

But I was annoyed that Joe chose to eat breakfast in the dining room instead of our Loft suite.  The thought of conversation with chatty morning people did not appeal to the night owl in me.   I muttered—This better be good.

An eclectic group of eight sat around the antique dining table of the Inn at Brandywine Falls.  Our hosts, George and Katie, prepared a sumptuous meal served in crystal dishes arranged on a sideboard.  George was engaging and it was apparent he would keep the conversation lively during our meal.

Katie encouraged us to fill our plates with delicious food.  Mark was determined to dominate the conversation with a sales pitch for his plastics company.  Joe and I heard plenty from him and his girlfriend in the adjoining suite most of the night.  He rambled about her art portfolio and his extraordinary children; she grinned like a Cheshire cat.  I nearly choked on my fruit compote!

George turned to Joe and asked, “So what’s your profession?”  Joe replied, “I’m a pastor.”  George continued, “In what denomination?”  Joe answered, “It would be similar to an Assembly of God.”  George teased, “As opposed to an Assembly of Satan?”  Everyone laughed. 

Ken, a policeman from Maryland, and Joanne, who worked with the National Park Service, sat opposite me.  As I filled my china plate I overheard someone comment about their fund-raising event in the area.  I asked Ken for more details.  “It’s for the Flight93 Memorial in Shanksville, Pennsylvania,” he offered. 

“Do you have a personal interest in this?” I asked.  “Yes…my brother Joey died on United Airlines Flight 93.”  Awkward silence… This was my first face-to-face encounter with someone so directly impacted by this tragedy.

There was no more plastic conversation as he related his brother’s story.   It was Joey’s first flight on an aircraft--a one day trip to California to take care of a business matter—booked the night before.  He was a beloved brother, friend, husband... He loved life!

The biblical words of wisdom--You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes--flashed through my mind. 

Joanne was Superintendent of the Flight93 National Memorial in Pennsylvania.  Both were in Ohio that week to raise funds to build this historic memorial.  Flashbacks to 9/11...

George and Katie testified of that fateful day on September 11, 2001.  They were hosting a group of Air Traffic Controllers from Cleveland that morning--certainly an ironic twist to this story.

Their daughter lived in New York City and she emailed them for information.  She knew the Twin Towers had been struck but more details were not available where she was.  They went back and forth from dining room guests to office computer to stay in touch with their daughter.  George decided not to tell the guests until after breakfast. 

The round-table discussion continued.  Where were you on that day?  What were you doing?  Sure, I remember!  Who could forget 9/11?

I was teaching a Death and Dying class to a group of hospice volunteers.  Our Administrative Assistant, Gail, interrupted the class and made the announcement, “We are under attack…”  We sat in stunned silence for a few seconds.  A young mother seated next to me announced, “I have to go get my kids out of school.”  I asked the chaplain to pray for our nation before we scattered. 

We began breakfast as strangers-- two innkeepers, one policeman, one national park superintendent, one manufacturer, one artist, one pastor and one home-maker.  Who could have predicted the common thread between us--the dreadful events of a September morning seven years earlier?  

Two days later I saw Joanne, dressed in her National Park Service uniform, on a segment of the CBS evening news.  I can't believe it.  I shared a meal with her two days ago! 

Who knew breakfast at Brandywine Falls would be so interesting?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For more information about the Inn at Brandywine Falls and Flight93 National Memorial (Dedication of this Memorial will take place on September 10, 2011):

www.innatbrandywinefalls.com

www.nps.gov

 

Magnum Opus

 

 

 

A dewy spider web

spun in silence proclaims,

"I'm here by design!"

 


  

 

 I enjoy mornings in late summer...mornings filled with dewy wonders that appear like sparkling crystal on the grass and foliage.  

I was on my weather-beaten porch enjoying a mug of steaming coffee when I noticed the spider’s magnum opus covered in dew.  The intricate pattern of the web fascinated me.  How does a spider intuitively know to create this wonder?  I wondered…

 

I later discovered another magnum opus spun on the back of a lawn  chair.  More wonder… What plan exists for the spiders...or people?   

 

 

 

"There comes a special moment in everyone's life, a moment for which that person was born.  That special opportunity, when he seizes it, will fulfill his mission...in that moment he finds greatness.  It is his finest hour."  Winston Churchill

I believe that just like spiders, mankind is here by Divine design for specific purposes.  Do you know what magnum opus our Creator designed just for you?  Oh, the joy of discovery!

 

  

The Meeting of the Minds

"A student is not better than the teacher.  But the student who has been fully trained will be like the teacher."  Luke 6:40 (NCV)

The Meeting of the Minds is now in session. New books, new clothes, new routines, fresh anxieties and extra-curricular schedules are part of the frenzied preparation for school.   

But thoughts of school evoke strong emotions in most folks.  Anxious parents google teachers; teachers google students.  Everyone is googly-eyed these days.  Each anticipates a good or bad outcome dependent on the findings.  Prayer still happens in this educational process.

Computers,  Iphones, Ipads etc. have changed the way we access information, but one-on-one teaching and mentoring remain timeless.  A student must learn how to learn—how to research and process information and make application.  I admire the ninety-year olds who have discovered lifelong learning and still thirst for knowledge.

Education is a meeting of the minds between teachers and students.  It can be a real test as Inside and Outside thinking collide: Use your Inside voice!  Your Outside voice is for the playground or elsewhere.

Color INSIDE the lines.  The brave and less coordinated color OUTSIDE the lines.  Think INSIDE the box—what is the standard answer?  Those with active minds think OUTSIDE the box and challenge the norm.

The big concern when I chose to educate my children at home was How will they learn to socialize?  Seriously?  How long does it take to learn to stand in line--to conform--to look to peers for approval?  Kids learn to negotiate relationships pretty quickly, no matter the setting. 

Communication has become a dilemma as students of all ages text and talk at the speed of light.  Meaningful face-to-face conversation seems to be a lost art.  My nephew, Mark, brought another issue to my attention.  He teaches on the collegiate level and is frustrated by the lack of attention due to texting and surfing the web during class time.  Gazing out the window in a daydream seems a minor offense compared to current issues.

I held a workshop in four different after-school programs last year and I was shocked by the emotional shutdown of so many kids.  They are faced with serious personal and family issues. Some are lonely; some are bullied.  Many are abused in every sense of the word.  Some act out because no one has given them skills to cope with strong and scary emotions.  Teachers cannot address all of this nor should they be expected to do so. 

I’ve observed fully-loaded vans and SUVs lined up to retrieve kids.  Yes, they were fully-loaded with impatient, explosive greetings and ridicule that made me wince.  That makes life harder for everyone.

I've watched a Mr. Mom walk his girls to school and return at the end of the day.  He scooped them in the air and whirled them around wildly as the girls giggled.  “How was your day?” he asked.  They laughed as they recounted the best parts of the day.  What blessed girls!

Amidst the organized chaos of any school day, some things never change.  Teachers want to do what they do best—teach and inspire.  Students want to learn their lessons so they can progress and complete their education.  It is a daunting task but God bless teachers who leave their positive mark on a child’s world.  God bless students who apply themselves to learn, to think critically and who emerge as thoughtful, capable adults...and may God give grace to the late-bloomers until they come into full bloom.

 

 

Marriage is Like Eating Beans...

Marriage is like eating beans…first the flavor, then the bang!                  ~Peruvian Proverb~

I laughed aloud when Pastor Pepe told me this when I was in Peru years ago.  It’s quite a visual picture of married life.  I’ve met some couples whose marriages give new meaning to the Big Bang Theory!

So what gives marriage its flavor?  What causes the bang?

In the Book of Common Prayers, traditional vows and prayers give some clues of the positives and negatives of life—flavor versus bang.

 To have and to hold: I met a sweet couple recently who have been married seventy plus years.  I asked, “What’s your secret?”  They grinned at each other and she replied, “We still like each other!”  That’s as sweet as wedding cake.

For better: this might include friendship, straightforward  communication, fun, children, grandchildren, satisfying work,  spiritual growth,  vacations, family pets, humor and memories.

For worse: discord (euphemistic term), prodigal children, separation or tragedies of every description can cause much bang in a relationship.  “It’s the couples who learn to weather life’s storms who come to feel love in all its forms.”  ~Meron Reinhart~

In sickness: this may include physical, mental, emotional or spiritual sickness.  Any of these can cause stress and lots of bang.  Joe and I were unprepared for one of the side-effects of a terminal illness—PRESSURE in the marriage.  That was a troubling discovery and we soon realized we needed some Divine help.

In health: what a wonderful gift from the Giver of Life.  O, to enjoy it more and not take health for granted.

For richer: it’s a relative term—and we had no richer relatives.  Richness is not measured only in money but in relationships.  Proverbs 15:17 reads: A bowl of vegetables with someone you love is better than steak with someone you hate.

For poorer: many couples have faced this big bang.  There are thousands navigating this path right now with job losses and major economic changes.  Couples may develop emotional stretch marks during turbulent, head-banging seasons of change and adjustment.

To love and to cherish: a lovely Laguna Pueblo prayer describes this well.  “I add my breath to your breath that our days may be long on the earth.  That the days of our people may be long, that we shall be as one person, that we may finish our road together.”  That’s what I call flavor!

Until we are parted by death: It’s good we don’t know the full impact of this portion of the vows.  What constitutes a "long enough" marriage?  That probably depends on the couple.  I visited a widow who had been married sixty-seven years.  I commented, “Wow!  That’s a long time.”  She quickly added, “Not long enough!”  

Joe and I had the “D” discussion before he died.  We reflected on our forty plus years of marriage and realized there was sweet, sweet flavor and considerable bang.  My most cherished memory is when we looked at one another and truthfully said, “I’ve never been unfaithful to you!” 

Our wedding anniversary is almost here again and it’s bittersweet.  I plan to celebrate by attending an afternoon wedding to support another couple full of hope, dreams and desires.  I will pray they enjoy a flavorful marriage with minimum bang.  Hope is a wonderful thing!