Empty Yet Full

Empty . . .

An apt description of the house when the last one leaves after a holiday. Can you relate? No bags stashed here and there. No toys to trip over. No sippy cups in the kitchen sink. No crowded bathroom counters and towel racks. No half-open suitcases. No scattered shoes and boots in the breezeway. No extra cars in the driveway.

And more obvious, no adult children and grandchildren gathered around, playing games, laughing, or eating around the table. All may be calm and bright, but as the emptiness echoes its stillness, I feel the loss.

At the same time, my heart is full . . . full of memories. Talking until 2 a.m. the night my college-age daughter flew in. More hours of talking, talking, talking. Shopping at Kohl's because her internship is right around the corner. Listening to her play the piano and sing. Welcoming the older girls and their families. Catching up. Cuddling a two-month-old and seeing his wide smiles for the first time. Reading stories. Singing carols by a crackling fire. Taking my oldest grandson to see The Nutcracker the day after Christmas. Enjoying a roast beef Christmas dinner, along with my dad and a friend. Playing Jenga. Sharing gifts and stories. Missing those no longer with us.

One family came on Sunday the 23rd and left the very next day due to our three-year-old's bout with vomiting and diarrhea. After a hurried gift opening, we all had tears in our eyes when they pulled away to try to get home, mommy and bucket in the back seat just in case.

Today, I said my last good-bye of the season. Our youngest drove off in her daddy's 2005 Corolla, new wiper blades in place, EZ Pass transponder and GPS attached to the windshield and, just to make me feel better, a few maps tucked in the passenger door pocket. Since 2015, I've babied this car . . . inspections, tires, maintenance . . . because I knew this day was coming, the day when she would drive it back to school in the mid-west. Barry would be proud of her (and all of them) if he were here. 

After a good cry, I got busy. Putting things in order has always been my way of coping. Does it ever get easier? 

As I mopped the bathroom floor and folded towels, I thought about what happened after Mary's encounter with Gabriel. Luke 1:39 tells us, "In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah" to visit Zachariah and Elizabeth. Although the Bible doesn't mention Mary's mother, I couldn't help but wonder how she felt when Mary said a hasty good-bye to take a 70-mile trip. Did concern for her daughter's well-being and safety occupy her thoughts? Did she wake up to pray in the dark of the night? 

Somehow this ancient un-named mother gave me courage as I said my own good-byes today. She invested years sharing biblical truth and practical knowledge, then moved out of the way to allow her daughter to follow God's leading. In the same way, I want to be supportive of all three of my daughters. I hope we've given them roots. Now it's time to give them wings (and wheels!). 

Empty? Yes, but with a heart full of thanksgiving and anticipation in a brand new year. 

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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

A New Thing - Part 3

Dirt . . . Grime . . . Stains . . .

Have you ever considered how much time you spend cleaning? We wash dishes, scrub floors, power-wash siding, scour sinks, tubs, and toilets, dust furniture, sweep garages, vacuum floors and hard-to-reach corners, steam-clean and shampoo carpets . . .

And what a difference it makes . . . for a while, anyway!

This past week my bedroom carpet underwent a transformation. Some dear friends came to help me do a "few things" in the house. The top priority on the list? Shampoo my 25+ year old carpet. They worked their magic with a rented machine from a local grocer, and in a matter of hours the rug looked bright and clean. I could hardly believe the difference.

In contrast, the water turned black! To be honest, I felt a little embarrassed. How could my upstairs carpet accumulate so much dirt.? I vacuumed it regularly. I kept it picked up. But the honest truth showed up in the water.

I'm so very grateful for my friends--not just because they accomplished what my limitations won't allow me to do but also for the sweet fellowship we enjoyed. We chatted about many topics, not the least of which centered around God's goodness as we looked back over many years. 

They headed home Friday morning, leaving me with wonderful memories of our time together along with a now-finished bedroom (See Part 1 and 2.), a new medicine cabinet and light in the bathroom, a few new hinges in the kitchen, steam-cleaned kitchen and basement floors, and a number of surprise repairs that weren't on my original list. Saying "thank you" seems like such a meager way to express my appreciation.

Over the past few days I've been thinking . . . My limitations kept me from deep-cleaning my carpet. My methods, noble as they appeared, could not do what my friends did to get rid of the dirt. The same is true in a higher realm. No matter how much I try to clean up my life, I cannot do it on my own. Just as I relied on my friends to deep-clean my rug, so we are dependent on Jesus to deep-clean our hearts (1 John 1:9).

And in the process, He does much more than forgive us. He brings new life to our routines. He surprises us with His goodness and ever-present grace and guides us through those problem areas that surface along the way.

bing.com/images

So the next time your cleaning efforts yield a bucket or two of dirty water, remember that we have a God who not only offers His cleaning services but desires a loving relationship with us . . . now and forever.

Deep, Hidden Spaces

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP  BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP . . .

The annoying sounds coming from my stove would not be ignored. I had just slipped Sunday night dinner into the oven for my dad and me when the incessant beeps began. I eyed the ERROR message staring back at me from the digital panel and instinctively hit the STOP/CLEAR button. Nothing happened. I frantically pressed every button on the panel. The oven didn't turn off and seemed to be getting hotter and hotter. The beeps continued. Loud. Unrelenting. Do-something-now insistent. 

I grabbed the owner's manual and flipped through the trouble-shooting pages. No answers, just an 800 number to call, which I did, thinking the help line could answer my dilemma. But the lady who answered only scheduled appointments for a repairman to come. Would Wednesday be okay? Wednesday? Three whole days away? Hardly a solution.

I finally found the sense to do what I should have done in the first place. Unplug the stove. Maybe large appliances are like cell phones. Just unplug them and plug them back in and hopefully they reset themselves. Fortunately for me, my dad arrived and between the two of us we pulled out the stove. Ah-ha! The plug had worked itself halfway out of the receptacle. I climbed down into the small space and pushed it in all the way. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. It was only after I unplugged it and then plugged it back in that the beeping stopped. Whew!

But as I began to back out of the hole, I couldn't believe what I saw. Gunk had dripped down between the sides of the stove and the cupboards. Glass shards, crumbs, and a dried spill dirtied the floor. Ugh. Dad and I set to work, scrubbing and cleaning it all up. How long had it been since the stove was pulled out?

How many times have you been shocked by your own messes, especially if you're a pretty good housekeeper? Do we pay more attention to the things we and others can see? Maybe that's why it's necessary to take the time to do some deep cleaning now and then.

Later that week I ran across this quote by Oswald Chambers: "We can only be used by God after we allow Him to show us the deep, hidden areas of our own character."

Deep, hidden areas . . . like my stove space . . .

Deep hidden areas . . . like my heart . . .

How many times have you been shocked by your own messes, especially if you're a pretty good Christian? Do we pay more attention to what we and others can see? Maybe that's why it's necessary to take the time on a daily basis to pray, "Search me [thoroughly], O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there is any wicked or hurtful way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting (Psalm 139:23, 24 AMPC).

And just like my dad, our heavenly Father is always ready and able to clean us all up.


*Photos from bing.com/images

  

How Strong Are You?

In an hour and a half, we crossed everything off my list!

CSU's Community Appreciation Day comes every October. Tuesday, eight college girls descended on my place, and for the better part of the morning helped me do things I can't do, things like flip a queen-size mattress and vacuum under the bed, clean out and organize the paint closet, load snow tires into my car, move boxes, prepare my vegetable garden for winter, and ready a section behind my garage for grass seed--which  meant picking out buckets full of Pennsylvania rocks and stones. What a great group of girls!

Most of these chores have one thing in common. They require lifting.

I never realized how valuable physical strength is until left-over limitations from a car accident prevented me from lugging the vacuum cleaner upstairs, moving anything of substance, or even taking a turkey out of the oven. When those with strength give me a hand, I'm amazed at all they can do. Their help means so much to me.

In this life I'll never be strong physically, yet I am thankful for what I can do. It's all in how you look at it. 

There are other ways to be strong. We say a person is strong when they demonstrate courage in the face of adversity or rise above unfortunate circumstances. They model hope when we find ourselves in a weakened position. 

The theme of God's strength permeates the Bible. He is all-powerful and at the same time shares His strength with earthbound weaklings like us. "Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might" (Ephesians 6:10). And the verse that got me out of bed on many mornings after the crash: "Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand" (Isaiah 41:10).

So, how strong are you? 



 

Morning Tangles

When's the last time you just needed to take some time out and get organized? 

Today was one of those days for me. Over the past several weeks, I found myself lacking focus and feeling frustrated--especially while working on my computer. Over the last year or so, as I hurried to meet deadlines, I didn't always take the time to organize my files. By day's end, it felt good to finally have my documents in order. 

And I found it to be a little like cleaning a closet when you find a forgotten gadget. I discovered a piece I'd written years ago when Elisabeth, now eighteen, was in elementary school. One summer while I sat poolside watching her swim, I scribbled down some poetry--just for fun. Here's one your family might enjoy, especially if you have girls with long hair!

 

Morning Tangles

Morning tangles
Mazes in my hair
Secret snarls
Undercover nightmare

Brush it! Comb it!
Tug of war - Ow!
"Can I please do it later
Instead of just now?" 

Morning tangles
Aggravating spots
Bottle of detangler
Sprayed on all my knots

Brush it! Comb it!
Snarls start to move
Tug of war's over
Finally smooth   

 

So I hope you'll take some time to do a little organizing this summer. You never know what will turn up - and it may be just the thing to bring back some good memories and lighten up your day.

Photos from bling.com/images

Going Green

We do a lot of recycling in our house: paper, cardboard, glass bottles and jars, tin cans, plastic . . . Some weeks the lid to the recycle bin barely closes, especially if I've been cleaning out. Which, as I mentioned in my last post, I feel driven to do this time of year. I cleaned out the end table drawers, the kitchen closet, dresser drawers, and the linen closet. And I'm still going through Barry's papers and notes. I don't keep them all, but I want to touch every paper. I still can't get over how many subject areas he studied.

Sometime in the late eighties and early nineties, Barry served on the committee to begin the recycling drive in our community. We still try to conserve and go green as much as possible by recycling, composting, and opting for more natural materials and less packaging.

The other day I ran across an ancient text where the color "green" caught my attention:

[Most] blessed is the man who believes in, trusts in, and relies on the Lord, and whose hope and confidence the Lord is.

For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters that spreads out its roots by the river; and it shall not see and fear when heat comes; but its leaf shall be GREEN. It shall not be anxious and full of care in the year of drought, not shall it cease yielding fruit.*

In some ways, this season of my life could be characterized as "the year of drought," a year of firsts, of change, of learning to manage on my own, of handling everything from crawlspace issues to cars to single parenting. Maybe you can identify. Not that we haven't experienced many wonderful blessings, yet how easy to succumb to the "fear" and "heat" of daily adjustments and to "be anxious and full of care," resulting in a life void of the fruits of joy and peace.

 

I want to be like a tree with green leaves even in the dry times. Don't you? I'm learning that going green in this sense has a lot to do with trust. Confidence and hope in the Lord. Believing and relying on Him. And somehow God takes our loss and recycles it into compassion, sensitivity, and a stronger connection to the One who demonstrates His faithfulness in every circumstance.

So, the next time you put something into the recycle bin, remember that going green means more than salvaging paper, plastic, and glass. It has a lot to do with trusting God to write our stories in times of abundance and drought.

 

*Jeremiah 17:7, 8, The Amplified Bible

To Begin Again . . .

We made it through another holiday. 

I didn't know how this Christmas would be for me and the girls since Barry passed away in May. I have to admit, it proved harder than I thought . . . hanging the "Our First Christmas" ornament on the tree, shopping and wrapping alone, seeing the empty recliner on Christmas morning. BUT we did okay. We laughed. We sang. We stayed up too late. I love these five-star kids of mine--three daughters, a son-in-law, and two grandboys. 

I spent today cleaning out drawers and a closet. It's my way to unwind, to reflect and plan. One lingering Christmas thought keeps coming to mind. Maybe it's what I need to take a deep breath and begin again.

It's typical to remember Mary as the promised virgin, the mother of the Messiah. Can you imagine the responsibility of mothering this baby? This toddler? This young son? I can't fathom what it must have felt like to lose track of the twelve-year-old Son of God! And then to see Him grow into a man, the God-man, who had an agenda even Mary didn't always understand. 

This year I received a Christmas letter from a friend who lost her husband to cancer about a month before Barry passed away. Cherie's letter resonated with me:  "Do we give much thought to Mary, the widow? Jesus was 33 years old when He died. but first, He took care of the needs of His widowed mother. He turned His mother over to the care of John. . . . who took care of Mary as if she was his own mother." 
 
Losing a husband as dedicated and caring as Joseph must have dealt a hard blow to the woman who pondered so much in her heart. Did Joseph die before their children reached adulthood? Was Mary a single mom?

After Jesus' resurrection, we find her and her other sons among Jesus' followers in the upper room. She was present when another apostle was chosen to take the place of Judas Iscariot, when Peter preached his first sermon, and when the Holy Spirit came. Later, when great persecution came to the believers in Jerusalem, was she among those who scattered or did she stay? We don't know.

Whatever the case, she chose to number herself with those who believed her Son to be the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:6). She stayed involved. She stood for the truth. She exhibited faithfulness.

What a wonderful example as we begin 2016. I want to be involved, to be faithful, don't you? 

Photos from google images.

Reflections From a Button Box

Last week, my dad noticed one of his shirt buttons missing, one belonging to his button-down collar. "I dug around and found Mom's button jar," he told me. "And I think I found two that match pretty well."

Dear Dad. Nine months ago now, Mom slipped into a better world, leaving behind her husband of over 56 years. She'd be proud of him. When I go over to the house, I notice that he's kept up their cleaning routine along with all the other housekeeping chores they did together. He's learning to cook a little, and he even irons his shirts. Thus, the missing button discovery.

The next day, when he came for dinner, he brought his shirt and two buttons. My button box did not reveal anything better, but as I threaded a needle my mind flooded with memories.

"Do you know where this tin box came from?" I asked Dad. The next few minutes found us chatting about our next door neighbor, a dear sweet lady who always spoke a kind word. She'd given my sister and I Peanut Butter Puffs for Christmas one year - and I kept the tin. A perfect place to collect buttons. Then I shared this story:

During sixth grade

when the bus stopped at the corner for the first time

and locker-lined hallways stretched on like railroad tracks

and first period swimming lessons became mandatory . . .

During sixth grade

when boys and girls found themselves caught between

sunny days of kickball and clouded contests of relationship and SATs,

when girls went back and forth between sneakers and high heels . . .

Mr. Heaton taught science.

It seemed a day like any other

except he tore a piece of paper into square bits

and sprinkled them like white confetti on the floor.

"So the cleaning lady has something to do."

As my eyes followed the last of the fluttering cascade,

I thought of the only cleaning lady I knew, the lady who lived next door.
With snowy hair, too-thick glasses, and a smile

that warmed you like hot cocoa on a chilly day,

she walked to the neighborhood elementary school every afternoon.

Mom said she worked hard.

During sixth grade, 
a shadow fell.

I took off my sneakers. 

"I'll never forget that day," I told my dad. "I guess part of growing up is realizing that people don't always live up to our expectations. Even people who are supposed to be role models."

I finished the sewing job, then added, "Every time I get out my button box, I think of Mrs. B. and that day in my sixth grade science class."

Expectations. They're tricky, I think. Shouldn't we have some expectations, especially of people in responsible positions? Yet, we're all human . . . very human. We often find ourselves disappointed in each other - and even in ourselves. Would you agree?

Perhaps the writer of Psalm 62 grappled with expectations when he wrote, "My soul, wait only upon God . . . for my hope and expectation are from Him. He only is my Rock and my Salvation; He is my Defense and my Fortress, I shall not be moved" (verses 5, 6, The Amplified Bible).  

Reflections from a button box . . . What comes to your mind when you think of expectations?