Travel Fatigue?

I turned the key in the lock and swung the door open, all the while wrestling my bag over the threshold and into the breezeway. Bone weariness and achy shoulders told the story of a long afternoon of travel in and out of the rain. The familiar surroundings and scent of the house welcomed me home. "Thank you, Lord," I breathed.

I'm sure you, too, can relate to the old saying: It's good to go, and it's good to come home." 

The past few months the Lord has opened up a number of speaking opportunities for me . . . from small groups to women's events and even a quilting retreat. I have been able to share our story and offer encouragement and hope from God's Word with women of all ages. The best part often comes after my talk . . . the hugs, the sharing, and even the tears as we chat about trusting God with our stories. I marvel at the tenacity of many who tell me what they are facing. I pray for them all the way home. What a privilege.

At the same time, travel fatigue is real, especially for homebodies like me! 

Certain Scriptures have popped off the page during the weeks I've been coming and going. Like the verses in John 4: "[Jesus] had to pass through Samaria. So he came to a town of Samaria called Sychar . . . Jacob's well was there; so Jesus, wearied as he was from his journey, was sitting beside the well (italics added)." In another instance, He slept through a stormy boat ride until his disciples woke Him up (Matthew 8:23-27). 

Later, when Paul the apostle wrote to the believers in Corinth, he reviewed some of his experiences. Right in the middle of his list describing all kinds of dangers, hardships, and shipwrecks, he includes "on frequent journeys" (2 Corinthians 11:24-28).

How blessed we are in the 21st century. The modes of transportation available to us far surpass walking for miles and miles. And we usually don't worry about severe opposition, lurking danger around every corner, hunger, and exposure to the cold. 

There's a bit of comfort knowing that Jesus and Paul also felt bone tired as they traveled and served God. When I think about them I gather courage, purpose, and perspective.

It's been said, "Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is take a nap." I'm not usually a nap-taker, but I am grateful for a quiet place to rest and reflect. I sometimes think of the verses in Mark 6 when "the apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them, 'Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while'" (Mark 6:30-32).

Jesus understands travel fatigue. He invites us to rest.

Feeling the Let-Down

The back door swung open as I slid the key back out of the lock. I breathed in the familiar, almost  comforting, scent of the house as I crossed the threshold and took a look around. 

Home again. 

Not the home of days gone by, filled with children's jostling laughter, school project deadlines, and piano practice. Instead, in moments like these, the walls seem to speak the memories in quiet whispers, mere echoes of those busy days . . . all the more dear to me now. 

Part of me is grateful for the silence after a somewhat hectic week of playing with small grand-boys, cuddling a new-born, cooking for a crowd, savoring laughter and conversation with my daughters, son-in-law, and even some new friends, trying to sleep in a strange bed, and driving miles to and fro. Good times. Yet, a part of me grieves. As I put things away, the stillness serves as an ever-present reminder of how life has changed. Time has slipped through my fingers, as time is prone to do . . . 

And yet, I come home to more than silence, for I somehow bring my children's concerns with me. I carry their uncertainties, their fears, their everyday challenges. With intention, I recall our late-night conversations and their whispered what-ifs . . . our acknowledgment that control is an illusion and there are few guarantees and that our only hope is trust in a great big God who lovingly writes our life stories with purpose, even when it makes little sense to us now. I treasure these conversations. Both their concerns and victories matter to me.

I am their mother, after all.

Can you relate?

I've grown to appreciate the practice of Job, who brought each of his ten children before the Lord in prayer on a regular basis (Job 1:4-5). Although not a parent in the physical sense, Paul wrote about the deep concern he felt for all the churches, i.e. his spiritual children (2 Corinthians 11:28). Another first century Christ-follower, Epaphras, wrestled on behalf of the early believers in his prayers, that they would "stand mature and fully assured in all the will of God" (Colossians 4:12). 

We're not alone in our care for the circle God has entrusted to us. Yet, I find a bit of tension between concern for others and focusing on what God has given me to do. These three questions help me better sort it out: 

• What is my role? 
• What role do others play? 
• What is God's role?

So, what is my role? To daily (and often) bring each one to the throne of grace (Hebrews 4:16), to cheer them on, to initiate as appropriate, to be available . . . to love them as only a parent can . . . and to believe in them.

As I stow my suitcase in its usual place in the attic, I find myself turning a proverbial corner, focusing on getting back to normal . . . at least for the few days before the calendar beckons me to deck the halls and my Christmas gift list pushes me out the door. I am grateful for the gift of family, of community, and of a faithful God who always plays His role perfectly - both when I'm away and when the stillness welcomes me home. 

Behind the Mask

"Trick or treat!" Ready or not, Halloween has arrived, the holiday where kids and adults alike dress up to pretend to be someone or something else for an evening. There's a certain delight that comes from becoming another character and sometimes hiding one's identity altogether. Being an introvert from childhood, I never much cared for Halloween. My younger sister, more outgoing than I, took the lead. I felt a wave of relief wash over me when we finally got home, and I could be myself again. I can't help but wonder how many of us, as adults, hide behind a mask when the calendar does NOT say October 31st. When we pretend to be someone or something we're not. When we're afraid to show who we really are . . .                           So, why do we hide behind this different-than-I-truly-am persona? Is it because we worry others won't like us? Or feel we can't measure up or aren't "perfect" enough? Or want to portray our idea of a shining picture of success?   Can we be at peace with who we are . . . with who God created us to be: "fearfully and wonderfully made" (Psalm 139:14)? Yes, we make choices to improve our character and habits. We pray for grace to help us overcome our flaws and weaknesses. We ask for forgiveness. Yet at our core, we are made in the image of a loving God who gives us a variety of talents and gifts to bless those within our influence. We don't have to hide behind a mask. What a relief. I can't be who my husband was. Or my mom. Or any of my writer friends. Or anyone else. I'm learning to be comfortable in my own skin. It's freeing to know that I can just be me. And aim to faithfully live out what God has given me to do today. So this Halloween, dress up with the kids! Pretend! Wear that mask from the dusty Halloween box you haul out of the attic! But then let's be willing to lay all that aside and resolve to be our best selves . . . for the glory of God. Photos from bing.com/images free to use This post is from my fall newsletter since it reflects the theme of Halloween. If you are not receiving the quarterly Penned Without Ink Newsletter and would be interested, click HERE. I plan to send the next issue out after Christmas.

Summer Tidying

"Why are you reading a book about how to do something you're good at?" my home-from-college-for-the-summer daughter asked me.
I shrugged. "I guess I enjoy reading practical books like this one - and it gives me ideas. Besides," I insisted, glancing at her sideways, "when I'm reading up on a topic, I tend to follow-through more readily. It helps me keep my focus."

At least for a while. 

This past week, I finally rummaged through the closet under the stairs and tossed out a carpet scrap from a carpet which had been ripped up and disposed of eight years ago! If you follow my blog, you know how much I've sorted, thrown out, given away, and donated in the last few years. And I'm still at it. My latest venture? Give away our old sofa in the guest room, put my office futon in its place, re-upholster a cozy chair, and move it into my office (and tidy my desk while I'm at it). One less piece of furniture and more space. I'm getting there . . . I hope!

Life's a little like my quest for tidying. It gets messy and we feel bogged down until we take the time to clean it up. It might be a clogged-up schedule. Or a relationship that's gotten stale and cold. Or the path-of-least-resistance choice to pursue the urgent over the important. Or old familiar rhythms that have little benefit to us now. We feel the need to tidy up yet often feel stuck. Where do we begin? And how to we keep on top of it all? 

Just as I checked out a tidying manual for my home from the library, so we have a life manual available to help us know where to start, what to prioritize, and how to ask for help to tidy up our lives. God's Word helps us keep our focus. We begin at the foot of the cross as Christ exchanges our sin for His righteousness. Then He gives us the tools of forgiveness, prayer, relational grace, and the freshness of His presence.

The key is to consistently read the manual. Much like my house-tidying book, it keeps us focused on  the goal: "We make it our aim to please Him"      (2 Corinthians 5:9).

Photos from bing.com/images

Summer: A Season to Enjoy . . . A Season to Reflect . . .

SUMMER!

How we've longed for warm breezes . . . fragrant flowers . . . longer days . . . burgers on the grill. What plans do you have to take advantage of this new season? Will you take a trip to the beach or even to a national park or zoo? Are your kids begging to ride their bikes or go to the playground? There's something healing about soaking up the sun, planting petunias, and catching up with neighbors over the back fence.

During those chilly, damp days of late winter and early spring, I looked forward to summer. I enjoy my gardens (both flower and vegetable), my patio with pots of flowers, and the evening sounds as I rock back and forth in the backyard swing. The best part is that my youngest daughter is home from college for a couple of months. She'll be busy with online classes and a part-time job, but it's wonderful to have her here. I'm savoring our time together.

The past ten months have been busy for me . . . namely, writing and publishing my Leader's Guide based on Penned Without Ink. Thanks to Robin Wasser, my book is also now an audio book through Audible. I spoke at four different venues this past spring. I loved rubbing shoulders with women and hearing their stories of how God is giving them the grace to "run with perseverance the race marked out" for them. It has been a time of blessing.

Little by little I'm getting on my feet again but not without some time for prayerful reflection. Where have I been since my husband passed away three years ago? What has God been doing in my life? Looking forward, what would God have me to be and to do next?

I'm seeing the importance of evaluation and assessment - as I go along - so I don't find myself drifting to a place I never intended. Do you agree?

In my quest, I have come across two resources. The first is Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less by Greg McKeown. He maintains that "essentialism isn't about getting more done in less time. It's about getting only the right things done." I checked out the audio book from the library. So far, it's been eye-opening. Some of what I'm reading will supplement my toolbox as I move into the future.

The second resource is Humble Roots: How Humility Grounds and Nourishes Your Soul by Hannah Anderson. This book "reveals how cultivating humility-not scheduling or increased productivity-leads to true peace." My sister and daughter recommended this Christian book to me, thinking it would be especially helpful as I try to sort out my next steps.

So, enjoy this new season of warmth, growth, and a little less structure. Yet, let's not allow the season to slip by without also setting aside a little time for reflection. Who or what guides our thinking? Where are we going? And what will we do with the gifts God has given us?

Striking a Balance

Is it just me, or is January 2018 zipping by at breakneck speed?

Seems I'm just getting around to reflecting on the new year's possibilities along with a few goals and hopeful intentions. In the process I reached for one of Barry's books I finished in 2017 and found the page with the corner turned down. Sometimes when you don't have time to think about something in the moment, it's nice to go back and find it again - this time to digest it slowly, like savoring a candy bar you saved for later. 

Here's what I've been thinking about (along with making time for rest, exercise, and connecting with people):

Reading is a sober discipline, and all discipline is difficult. It requires work, diligence, concentration, practice, and maturity.

But that is the way it is with anything worthwhile. The best things in life invariably cost something. People have to sacrifice to attain them, to achieve them, to keep them, and to enjoy them. 

That is one of the most important lessons anyone can learn in life. It is the message that most parents realize that they ought to instill in their children: Patience, commitment, diligence, constancy, and discipline will ultimately pay off if their children are just willing to defer gratification long enough for the seeds they have sown to sprout and bear fruit.

A flippant, shallow, and imprecise approach to anything . . . is ultimately self-defeating.* 

Maybe sometimes in the heat of the day, we forget that "anything noble takes effort." 

I read another book, this one requested for Christmas by one of my daughters. I have a habit of reading the books I gift, both before and after they're opened! This one started out with an allegory about a student who wanted to take piano lessons. He practiced and practiced. When he plunked out his little tune during his lesson, the teacher came alongside him and began to play. Melodious music filled the room. When they finished the teacher smiled and said, "We make pretty good music together."

The boy looked up at him. "You don't mean we, do you?

"Yes. We made the music together. You did what you could, and I did the rest."**

The story includes many wonderful scenes and lessons, but this line struck a cord with me. We often are like the child . . . practicing commitment and diligence, working hard . . . as we should. Yet our efforts often seem like the awkward tune the boy struggled to play. And that's when the Master Teacher comes alongside us and whispers, "You do what you can, and I will do the rest."

Striking a balance? There will always be a tension between the hard work of taking our responsibilities seriously and watching/hearing God make our labored efforts sing. In the next post or two, I'll be sharing some examples of this very thing.

 

*Going Somewhere: A Dan and Bea Adventure by George Grant (Nashville: Cumberland House, 1999). 254.

**When Being Good Isn't Good Enough by Steve Brown (Brenham: Lucid Books, 2014), 24.

Photos from bing.com/images free to use

How to Keep the Main Thing the Main Thing . . .

Cold and rainy. All day long.

Although we officially welcomed spring in March, it seems to have taken a long time to arrive here in NE PA. We've had a few nice days, but chilly rain makes us long for the warmth of the sun. Yet the grass is green, and the early blooms have come and gone, so it's coming. Only a little longer . . .

One of my spring goals was to send out a quarterly e-newsletter to those who signed up for updates about Penned Without Ink at my book signing in November or other events in the past. On April 26, I pressed the send button. Did you receive it? If you have Gmail, it shows up in your promotions inbox. My objective is to offer a few uplifting thoughts and quotes and share a couple of resources relevant to the current season.

In case you missed it, I invite you to sign up to receive future newsletters HERE. 

Here's part of what I shared in the spring issue:

Urgent or Important?

For a while now I’ve been eyeing a CD series I found in Barry’s office and finally popped the first disc into the player on a recent road trip to see my daughters. Steve Jones facilitated the discussion on Focus: Achieving Your Highest Priorities. Listening not only helped the miles pass more quickly but reminded me that focus is vital if we are to spend our lives on what is truly worthwhile.

Mr. Jones divided what we do into four categories:
1.      Urgent
2.      Important
3.      Both urgent and important
4.      Neither urgent nor important  

Under which category do we find ourselves spending the most time? Does the urgent rule our schedules? Do we waste time on that which is neither important nor urgent?  Do we find that the important gets pushed aside, time gets away from us, or we feel frustrated when we’ve frittered the day away on some urgency that, in the long run, didn’t really matter? I’ve sure been there.

The recommendation is to DETERMINE OUR VALUES, which define what’s important to us. Then, to SET GOALS with a view toward spending most of our time in the important category, leaving enough margin for urgent matters, interruptions, and—for me—that coveted phone call from one of my girls! I’ve been challenged to prioritize with intention rather than just react to the loudest voice calling my name. To take time to PLAN at the beginning of the week and then a few minutes at the start of each day.

Although I’d heard some of these ideas before, I found the CD presentation thought-provoking . . . and freeing. For doesn’t the “important” revolve around our relationships with God and others? A good work ethic? Healthy self-care habits and . . . actually, we each determine our own values and definitions for our individual life stories. I still have some work to do in thinking through mine. Perhaps, as the seasons change, we can focus on the “important” just a little bit more.

But seek (aim at and strive after) first of all His Kingdom and His righteousness (His way of doing and being right), and then all these things taken together will be given you besides."

Matthew 6:33, The Amplified Bible 

Lessons From the Let-Down

I sank into my favorite chair and took a deep breath. 

Photo by Julie Manwarren

What a week it had been! My sister flew in from Indiana. Two of my daughters and their little sons came in for the weekend. My book signing turned out to be a wonderful time of greeting friends from the community and area churches, some closely associated with my late husband, Barry. They came and they stayed, coffee in hand, seizing the opportunity to catch up with old friends and meet new ones. Afterward, the family gathered around my dining room table to sip soup and recount God's blessings as many took our story home with them that day. 

Photo by Julie Manwarren

On Monday evening, my sister, and I enjoyed our dad's famous chili, and together, watched old slides, once again hearing his navy stories and enjoying poses of us as little girls with very young parents. The next couple days we shared meals, raked up leaves (Dad's and mine), and enjoyed just being together until Wednesday evening, when Barb boarded a plane heading west and I led a Bible study on Chapters 11-14 of my book. 

On Thursday, I fulfilled my time in the dentist chair, ran to the Ronald McDonald House to present them with a check (proceeds from the book signing) and a copy of Penned Without Ink for their library . . .  then finally found my chair.

Whew!

But I don't do let-downs well. 

By Sunday evening, my eyes were "gunky" (as my mother used to say), bloodshot, watery, swollen, and irritated with bags underneath. An uninvited case of conjunctivitis brought my go-go-go pace to a screeching halt. The side effects from the drops reduced me to sitting alone in my living room with the shades drawn, wearing sunglasses, and squinting to try to read blurry texts from my girls. 

Google Images

A let-down, indeed!

But in spite of all this, I wanted to listen . . . to listen to the still, small voice that often whispers truth at times like this. Here's what I hope to take away from this experience:

• An even greater appreciation for Barry, whose eye issues never left him after the car crash. Again I remembered 2 Corinthians 4:18: "The things that are visible are temporal (brief and fleeting), but the things that are invisible are deathless and everlasting" (AMPC).
• An increased sensitivity to those who suffer illness alone, who can't drive themselves to pick up what they need, who don't have someone present to talk things through.
• An awareness that perhaps my life should include a little more down time. It's been a hectic eighteen months since Barry passed away. Maybe I need to make time to finish a quilt, read more, and have friends in more often.
• A renewed realization of the fragility of life. James 4:13-16 came to mind, especially verse 15: "If the Lord is willing, we shall live and do this or that." All it takes is pink eye or some other where-did-this-come-from ailment. Or rolling fog. Or any number of "unexpecteds," and we again realize God's sovereign control and our human frailty.
• A sense of comfort, knowing that God regards me with compassion, and nothing - not even my contagious eyes - could separate me from His love and grace (Romans 8:38, 39).

The meds are doing their jobs well. I am much better and oh-so-grateful to be on the other end of this week. 

So, when you're on the downside of a let-down, remember to listen for the whispers from the God who cares about all that happens to us.

 

To Tell or Not to Tell - Behind the Scenes # 5

When sharing a story from your life, can you be honest about what has happened without saying too much?  Do you find it tricky to find the appropriate level of disclosure?

I felt this tension when writing Penned Without Ink. On one hand, I desired to share an authentic perspective, one that revealed raw emotion and told an honest story. I wanted it to be personal, not plastic. I can't tell you the number of times tears slipped down my cheeks as I wrote our family's story paired with the accompanying gut feelings and limiting new realities . . . true of any hardship, really. Often, I wrote from open journals, citing Scripture that still brings hope and comfort to me. Unless there's a certain level of vulnerability, the story falls flat; there's not much to say, It's when we acknowledge the exposed places that the grace of God begins to lift the heaviness and brighten our way.

On the other hand, I felt compelled to protect the people in my memoir. My characters are real people with real names in real places, after all. Real people who, in their humanness, struggled with the unexpected and the unexplained. Real people who didn't always get it right--including me. I knew that whatever I wrote would be in print, literally an open book for anyone's eyes to scan its pages. 

Ever conscious of this tension, I asked permission of each person mentioned in the book. I wanted to be careful to find a healthy balance of grace and truth on every page.

And isn't that the way to live life? To be honest about our stories, yet offer a little mercy to ourselves and those around us when we struggle to accept the unexpected and unexplained? To trust the Master Writer to write our stories with both truth and grace?

Photos from bing.com/images

Cut What?

Howling wind, rain beating on the windows, and the sound of hard-working sump pumps makes me want to curl up with a good book and read the day away. Instead, I worked in the basement for a while. My reward? Another armload for the garbage and one for the recycle bin. I plan to find my book sometime today, though. I hope you will too.

March . . . you never know whether you'll find a lion-kind-of-a-day, like today, or a lamb-kind-of-a-day with sunshine and soft fragrant breezes. Either way, it's time to venture into the outdoors, to rake, to prune . . . and to plan. 
 
Our yard needs a lot of work in the pruning department. Overgrown lilac bushes, unnamed foliage, and budding rhododendron have merged into each other, making it too unmanageable for me to care for. Thankfully, I found an expert to help me. 

He brought his blades, cutters, and even an electric chainsaw and set to work, stopping now and again to patiently explain his recommendations. He pointed out dead branches and the places where insect borers made a perfectly round hole into the wood to get inside and cause damage. I looked on, fascinated. Needless to say, when he finished the row of lilacs, the bushes looked pretty sparse." They'll grow back healthy," he assured me. I would never have had the nerve or know-how to make those cuts, yet they will prove necessary for the long-term beauty of the plants.

As I bundled up some of the fallen branches, I couldn't help but remember the words of Jesus in John 15:  

I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and . . . prunes, that it may bear more fruit. . . . Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me (verses 1, 2, 4).

I've been thinking about what dead wood needs to be pruned from my life. About where the borers of faulty thinking have caused damage. How important to allow the Master Gardener to do His work. Can you relate?

So, whether the next few weeks mimic a lion or a lamb, I hope we'll both appreciate the value of a little spring pruning and remember the importance of shedding the "suckers" that hold us back from becoming fruitful and healthy.

Photos from google images

On the Way Home, Part 2

Do you like to travel? If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you choose? Why there?

bing.com

I have friends who love the open road. Others look forward to an occasional cruise or a February flight to Florida where it's warm and sunny. One couple went to Australia to hike and breathe in the beauty of the Southern Hemisphere. And then there are missionaries and others who find their place to serve anywhere from Europe to Asia to South America and beyond.

Unlike these brave souls, I'm afraid I'm a little like Beatrice Curtis Brown's character, Jonathan Bing, who when he was invited to visit the king, sent back this reply:

If you please will excuse me, I won't come to tea;

For home's the best place for all people like me!

 

Lately I've been thinking about why "all people like me" might be more inclined to choose home if given the choice of whether to go or stay. For me? Having survived a car crash, the ever-present possibility seems to simmer on the back burner of my mind. On top of that, probably my introvert-ish nature craves the quiet, the predictable, the stable routines. It's a place I know in a world of unknowns. It represents family gatherings beside a blazing fire, writers' meetings around my dining room table, and hot cups of tea served with love to all who cross the threshold.

But I go.  

I go to visit my children in Lancaster where I play with two special grandboys and where the clip-clop of Amish buggies always stirs up a cloud of curiosity. My youngest daughter and I make our yearly pilgrimage to Lake Michigan to visit with my late husband's family, relishing in the sand, the wind, the waves . . . and the sense of belonging that comes with intentional gatherings and conversation. Last summer, we drove over 1000 miles to visit perspective colleges in the Midwest. On our last trip, we traipsed through no less than five airports coming and going.

And while waiting at the gate, I ran across these words penned by Elisabeth Elliot: "Traveling nowadays means what it has always meant; facing risks."* Then she cited the writings of an ancient apostle who shared his travel log:

In my travels I have been in constant danger from rivers and floods, from bandits, from my own countrymen . . . I have faced danger in city streets, danger in the desert, danger on the high seas, . . . I have known exhaustion, pain, long vigils, hunger and thirst, doing without meals, cold and lack of clothing.**

Talk about risk! These words put my travel frustrations in perspective.

So, maybe "all people like me" aren't as adventurous as others, not as apt to take risks. But often we go. We go because of the people we love. We go to be together. 

We go . . .because we want to be driven by love, not fear. 


Are you more apt to stay or go? Why? 

* Elisabeth Elliot, On Asking God Why And Other Reflections on Trusting God in a Twisted World, (Grand Rapids: Fleming H. Revell, 1989), 60.
**2 Corinthians 11:26, 27.