Reminiscing

Thinking back...21 years ago I was in the hospital lying flat on my back recovering from a C-section and suffering spinal headaches that were excruciating.  My newborn twins were preemies, so tiny and entangled with tubes and wires that it was a major enterprise to try and hold them.   My other two boys were at home and I wondered if they felt abandoned by me.

I asked my doctor how long the spinal headaches would last and he speculated that they could last up to a year or more.  "But the anesthesiologist told me that they'd probably not last more than a week!"  "That's because it was his needle," was the cold reply. He left and I collapsed in a frenzy of angry tears.  When the nurses came in to figure out what was going on, I told them what the doctor had said.  "Oh," they said, "We call him 'Dr. Doom.'  He's always saying things like that."  "Well, I'd like to punch him in the stomach!" I said with a great deal of feeling. Somehow this made all of us laugh.  It was such an unlikely sentiment coming from someone like me that I'm still rather shocked that I said it.  It tells something about the extremity of my emotions at the time.

Alone in my bed, still fretful and disturbed, I turned my anger on God.  How did He expect me to take care of my four children, including these two little ones, if I couldn't even sit up without having a hammer pounding in my skull.  It was untenable!!  Slowly, His presence infiltrated my overwrought heart and I began to remember His amazing love.  It dawned on me that He wouldn't give me these children without making a way for me to care for them.  "I will never fail you nor forsake you."  "I will never fail you nor forsake you."   Never!!!  Ever!!!  

No wonder the psalmists often reminisced, as it were, about God's faithfulness in the past and His promises for the future.  Sometimes in the midst of the storm, it's good medicine to remember sunny skies and rainbows.  

The headaches disappeared shortly after I left the hospital.  (Coincidence? I think not!).   And now those two babies that got such a shaky start in life are strong and healthy young men who are on their own journey with God and faithful in the assembling together of the saints.    

He did not fail nor forsake me then; He will not do so now; He will not ever fail me or forsake me in the future.  

Reminiscing.

Doodle

When I was young and obliged to sit through church services, I would pass the time during sermons by doodling.  One of my earliest doodles was to draw an outline of my hand and fill it in with hundreds of little jelly bean-type shapes. Hey, it kept my hands busy and my mind focused, often even on the sermon, believe to or not.

Doodling became a habit of mine.  I doodled my way through phone conversations, classes, meetings, seminars...anytime when I was a captive audience, so to speak.  I doodled in the margins of my notes, on napkins, on bulletins, on scraps of paper, sometimes even on my skin.  Naturally, these little meaningless scribblings weren't permanent or noteworthy; they certainly weren't what one could consider art...or were they? 

I just discovered that there's a thriving art form out there based on DOODLING!  Be still, my doodling heart!  It's called Zentangle and I've suddenly found a home for my aimless and wandering pen.  Doodling with a purpose. Ahh...I'm on my home planet on this one. A wild idea just occurred to me. Jesus stooped and wrote something on the ground with his finger in John 8. People love to speculate about what He was writing, but what if He was just doodling?  Doodling while the people chewed over the words, "He who is without sin, cast the first stone."  Doodling while the Holy Spirit did His convicting work on their hearts. Doodling in the dirt while exposing the dirt in people's souls. Don't worry; I'm not going to place a lot of weight on that somewhat absurd speculation, but it makes me smile.

So here are my first two Zentangles.

A Little Bit of Gray Hair...

Yesterday I was raising little children.  Today I qualify for the senior discount at the grocery store.  Yesterday I could tote a young child around with one arm and carry a couple loads of groceries with the other.  Today, a little bit of shoveling causes my arms to ache and I must ask for help with carrying things.  It's breathtaking what can happen in such a short time.  Although many women my age are dying the gray out of their hair, I've decided to embrace it.  I wish I could say that this is symbolic of embracing the aging process, but I have to admit that it's mostly because I'm lazy and cheap.  In truth, I sometimes envy the youthful look of those who turn back time by putting the color back in their hair.  I didn't realize how much I took that youthfulness for granted until I began losing it.  

"But though our outer man is decaying, 

yet our inner man is being renewed day by day.  

For momentary light affliction is producing in us 

an eternal weight of glory far beyond comparison 

while we look not at the things which are seen, 

but at the things which are not seen.  

For the things which are seen are temporal, 

but the things which are unseen are eternal."

1 Corinthians 4:16-18

So it appears that my vision needs adjusting.  I see gray hair, but I need to see instead the daily inner renewal.  When my focus is on aches and pains, I need to put on a different lens and see the eternal weight of glory that those afflictions are producing.  I've always been near-sighted.  It's time to become far-sighted.

Remembrance

This candle was made with flowers from the memorial service after my sister died.  It pains me sometimes to observe how little I think about her now, how I need things like this candle to jog my memory and bring her back to me.  It doesn't seem right that she should pass away not only from this life, but also from my thoughts.  I remember you, my sister!

How quickly we forget.   If only we could remember every single person, every single event, every conversation, every book read, every movie seen, every disturbing image, every harsh word, every rancorous argument, every grief, every pain...sound good to you?  Me neither. Our limited memories are no doubt a blessing from God.  He knows that there are some things that are better forgotten and the sooner, the better.  

Yet, we are to be careful and disciplined about our memories: careful not to forget that which is important, and disciplined in our bringing those things to remembrance.  God had to tell His people over and over and over again not to forget what He did when He brought them out of Egypt.  He memorialized it with food and ritual in the Passover supper.  Memorials were built at his command to commemorate important events.  Jesus instituted the Lord's Supper to observe as a remembrance because we so easily forget those things that should not ever be forgotten.  We need reminders, substantive memorials.  We need the bread and the wine, the ritual food that nourishes our souls and jogs our memories.

I remember You, my Lord!

And he took bread, and when he had given thanks, 

he broke it and gave it to them, saying,

 “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

Luke 22:19

Detour

The cons: detours take you away from your planned route, usually represent a delay of some sort, and often reek of the unknown.  When I see a detour sign I usually have to stifle ( or not) a sense of impatience.  If I'm traveling unfamiliar roads, a layer of anxiety leaks in, for who knows how far out of they way I will be directed or even if the signs will be clear enough to follow?   I don't like detours.

The pros:  it is far better to contemplate the fact that detours exist for the very good reason that the original road was badly in need of repair or in need of improved design.  Detours and repairs don't last forever and when the sign goes down, the roads are smooth, new and much improved.  It turns out the engineer knew what he was doing and that the cause of irritation is really a reason to be thankful.

Why can I not remember this when God puts a detour sign up in my life?  Why do I always bemoan the changes, the delays and the uncertainty?   The Engineer knows what He is doing.  Thanks be to God.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord,

"Plans for welfare and not for calamity."

Jeremiah 29:11

Frost

Like the frost on my window,

Beautiful, yet brittle and cold,

Is the woman down the street

And I am afraid

To touch her life with mine,

To breathe the frigid air 

she inhabits.

But Jesus calls me

To be His warmth

Where the frost can melt

For He longs to set her free,

That she might breathe of His grace

And live

written in 1995, modified in 2014

A Matter of Perspective

I went on the most epic walk today.  I was definitely feeling on the heroic side as I prepared myself to go outside where the cold wind was howling a challenge.   By the time I left the house, only my eyes were uncovered and I headed directly into the wind.   It was a battle, me against the elements as I fought to walk while being pushed backward.  There was a moment or two when I considered turning around.  "Let's call the whole thing off!"   I'm not proud of my wimpiness, but there it is.  However, it wasn't long before I turned a corner and was in a place protected from the wind, a welcome respite.  By the time I got back to where I started, the wind was pushing me home.  It occurred to me that I was walking a metaphor for life.  At times I've been buffeted by trials and though I wished I could turn around, could only go forward, like it or not.  Then there are times of respite and encouragement, like stopping in at The Last Homely House and being cocooned.  And when I reach that last bend in the road, the fearsome winds will be pushing me Home and I will, I hope, be able to say, "Bring it on!"

Snared

Many, many years ago my brother went ice fishing with a friend.   I'm guessing they were around 14-15 years old at the time.  They chopped a little hole in the ice and proceeded with their sport.  About the time their extremities were starting to get numb, they decided to call it a day and at this point my brother's friend had an idea.  "Hey," he said, "I'm going to cover up the hole so you can't tell it's there.   That way somebody else will come along and step right in it!"  Yes, folks, that's just the kind of idea that boys find amusing, and this will remain true throughout the millennia.  At any rate, this friend enacted his devilish plan with skill and the snare was laid.  They picked up all of their equipment and as they were leaving, this guy stepped right into the trap dunking one leg calf deep into the icy water.  My brother enjoyed a good laugh over that and you should, too.  It's a story that often comes to mind when I read this passage in Psalm 9:

The Lord is known by the judgment He executes, whether He's dealing with nations or individuals, whether judgment comes right away or is delayed.  There's comfort in that (unless you are wicked, of course).   Meditation, indeed.

The Puzzle Lady

I used to deliver Meals on Wheels to someone whom I privately nicknamed The Puzzle Lady.  She lived in a little house all by herself and each time I stopped by, she was sitting at the kitchen table working on a puzzle.  I wondered sometimes if I was the only person she saw that day, the only human being to cross her path.  I admit that I began to weave a story for her that gave her a solitary existence in which the only source of interest was a puzzle.   I had her sad life all mapped out in my imagination based on a sixty-second interaction twice a month.  Who knows?  Maybe she was like the grandmother in Hoodwinked who participated in extreme sports on the sly.  Maybe that puzzle was just a front for an incredibly complex and fascinating life.  Maybe.  But her facial expression lacked vitality and spoke of tiredness, loneliness and resignation.  I am ashamed to say that I never tried to find out what her story was; I always had another meal to deliver and a schedule to follow.   How many stories do we miss because we're tied to the clock?  What would she have told me if I'd offered to stay and help her with her puzzle?