Blooming Where We're Planted

What's growing in your garden this summer? Are you enjoying perennials like daisies, back-eyed susans, and day-lilies? Did you plant annuals? Impatiens, geraniums, or begonias? Any pots or raised beds sprouting tomatoes, basil, or lettuce?

I love this time of year even if it is hot and humid! Seems we've waited a long time for the warmth of July. As I write, it's raining . . . a blessing to cheer up our brown lawns and thirsty plants.

I'm not a landscaper by any means, yet so far this seems to be a good season. At least I'm enjoying the process. I haven't done anything out of the ordinary . . . just the usual weed-pulling and a little watering here and there. The blooms are opening up right on time, including my late husband's fragrant pink roses. The edibles have given me a special pleasure: rhubarb, raspberries, blueberries, tomatoes, peppers, and cabbage . . . all in different stages, all offering their own textures and flavors. After a brisk walk, I putter around my yard every morning. breathing in the freshness (and batting away the gnats).

My gardener friend, Susan, says good soil produces healthy plants and nutrient-dense fruit. That's what I'm after. I weed and water, tend and prune, watch and wait. This week, as I worked, I thought about how God places us in the good soil of His grace. The heat, the storms, the pruning, and the waiting may lead us to doubt His divine green thumb, but the Master Gardener has a plan and a purpose for each one of us. Have you noticed how He pulls the weeds of self-reliance and pride? How He trims the suckers that take away our fruitfulness, all the while whispering words of hope?

The Seeking Heart by Francois Fenelon has touched my heart over the past few weeks. I found it in my husband's books and have been reading one short selection each morning when I come in from the garden. The other day, I underlined these words, "[God] trains you to fulfill His noble plans amidst the petty annoyances and aggravations of life. . . . [He] uses the disappointments, disillusionments, and failures of your life to take your trust away from yourself and help you put your trust in Him. . . . Nothing happens without His consent."

These words encourage me to see things from a higher perspective. Just as I often peer over the fence to check on my garden, so God has His eye on us, no matter where we find ourselves growing. Let's not shrivel up in doubt, discontentment, and self-pity. With confidence in His careful tending, let's bloom where He plants us.

Finding Faithfulness

I settled myself into a chair at the end of the second row, among about fifty other seniors who gathered on a dreary Wednesday afternoon. I didn't expect to begin the new year here. Life has a way of taking unexpected twists and turns.

It all began the day I took my Christmas decorations down and marched them up to the attic. I don't know how many times I climbed the stairs. Apparently, too many. I've learned to manage one bad hip joint, but when the "good" side began to buckle over the next week, I found myself in a pickle, clinging to the furniture to get around..  

A few days of taking it easy helped, yet at times I still found myself grabbing whatever chair or counter happened to be nearby. After eight years of avoiding the orthopedic office, I made an appointment, hoping a little PT would do the trick. "Bone on bone, severe arthritis, cysts," they said. I couldn't argue with the x-ray.

After much prayer, consulting with "my people," and gathering up courage, I signed on the dotted line. Wednesday's required joint replacement class taught us what to expect, physical therapy tips, and risks. I limped to my car praying,"Oh, Lord, how can I be faithful in this circumstance, this challenge?" 

How can you be faithful in your situation? 

Ironically, last month (before I had any inkling of surgery) I blogged: "Over and over, God has given me every reason to trust Him. These evidences of His power and involvement in my life help me remember and practice the truth the next time my stomach knots up and I find myself dreading instead of trusting."

I just finished reading Kings and Chronicles and have been so impressed with God's supernatural power demonstrated in overthrowing armies, changing the minds of kings, and protecting those devoted to Him. His sovereignty down to the smallest detail throughout these chapters and His faithful hand in my own circumstances have brought me comfort. No matter what lies before us, He's got the whole world in His hand! 

And really, it's not about you or me anyway. Paul, a prisoner in Rome, wrote these words: "I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel . . ." (Philippians 1:12-14). Not only did all the guards hear about Christ, but the believers gained confidence to speak God's Word without fear. 

Wherever God directs our days, we have the opportunity to reflect His light to those around us (Matthew 5:16). Because of what happened to our family in a 2003 car crash, many have read Penned Without Ink, the story of God's trustworthiness and grace in the face of trauma. Because of what happened in Barry's passing, others have gleaned strength from his legacy. 

In 2017, Joni Eareckson Tada celebrated the 50th anniversary of the diving accident that left her a quadraplegic. Because of what happened on that fateful day, Joni & Friends was born, an organization that not only gives support to those with disabilities all over the world but shares the hope of Christ. Because of what happened through years of pain and suffering, Joni's many books offer a unique depth and thoughtful encouragement. 

Battles, prison, trauma, and pain aren't experiences we would choose. Yet, like Joni, I want to walk my journey well to the glory of God. Reading the Old Testament stories along with Paul's prison experience put my surgery in perspective. Can you and I link arms with these heroes of faith and say, "What has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel."? 

Oops! When God Sees Our Mistakes

When was the last time you made a mistake? 

Mistakes come in all shapes and sizes, but the common denominator is the lack of realization that we have it wrong . . . until it's too late. A simple arithmetic error in the checkbook results in an overdrawn check. We lock our keys in the car and miss an important appointment. If we had treated a physical ailment earlier, we could have prevented present complications. We miss the ounce of prevention that's worth a pound of cure.

We all know that "ugh" feeling. We should have known better, we moan. But, the fact remains, we didn't know. What happened was unintentional. Once again, our humanness got the best of us, and we're left with regrets and even guilt. We missed the mark in appraising situations, making decisions, and/or nurturing relationships. And in the process, we did the less-than-best or even the wrong thing.

I'm reading the Old Testament through this year. It's full of stories, laws, and worship guidelines for God's people, the Israelites. The death and resurrection of Jesus has replaced and fulfilled the sacrificial system and the seeming endless list of rules the people were to follow. I know that. Yet, as I'm reading, I'm looking for themes. Themes that speak to the character of God. And what I'm finding is both sobering and comforting.

God was swift to judge unbelief and disobedience just as He consistently rewarded obedience and faith. Over and over again, the text speaks of forgiveness. 

What popped off the page were the paragraphs that begin with these words, "If you sin unintentionally . . ." (Leviticus 4; Numbers 15:22-29; Hebrews 9:7). God understands our propensity to make mistakes, to display weakness (1 Corinthians 2:1-5),  or to "sin" and not even realize it until later. He made provision for His people's shortcomings in Old Testament times, and He understands our humanness and offers forgiveness today (1 John 1:9). He is strength in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9-10) and sovereign over all (Colossians 1:17).

This reminds me of King David's words in Psalm 103: "He knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust" (verse 14).

So maybe it's okay to make an innocent mistake, to accept our humanness, to lean into God's gracious perfection. And then when it's needed, to ask forgiveness, to make restitution, and to learn what God has for us in this moment. He is, after all, much bigger than our best efforts . . . and our worst mistakes.

Photos from bling.com/images/free to use

When Sleep Evades Us . . .

I turned over and looked at the clock. Five minutes past midnight. I sighed. It had only been two hours since I turned out the light, and already I was awake.

As I lay there in the dark, I could hear the wind howling. I snuggled under the covers a little deeper, grateful for the warmth and stability of my home. I tried to pray but my thoughts, like the wind and snow outside, seemed to be swirling every which way. Oh, for the nights when sleep came easily and I didn't wake up until dawn.

What do you do when you can't sleep?

Gradually, the words to an old hymn began to slip their way into my mind:

Under His wings I am safely abiding,

Though the night deepens and tempests are wild;

Still I can trust Him - I know He will keep me,

He has redeemed me and I am His child.

"Though the night deepens and tempests are wild" certainly described this night - outside and in. The reassuring words of trust, redemption, and belonging began to quiet my heart.

Under His wings, what a refuge in sorrow!

How the heart yearningly turns to His rest!

Often when earth has no balm for my healing,

There I find comfort and there I am blest. 

Under His wings, O what precious enjoyment!

There will I hide till life's trials are o're; 

Sheltered, protected, no evil can harm me, 

Resting in Jesus I'm safe evermore.

Sweet memories of taking the girls to the Harford Fair made me smile in the darkness. Every year, we visited the mother hen who sheltered her chicks under her wings. Witnessing the fluffy chicks hiding under their mother stamped an indelible impression on this city girl as I explained how, just like the mother hen, God shelters and protects us. 

Under His wings, Under His wings,

Who from His love can sever?

Under His wings my soul shall abide,

Safely abide forever.*

Sleep evaded me for much of the night, but I could rest in the One who is "my God, in whom I trust." One who will cover us with his pinions, and under his wings we will find refuge . . . (Psalm 91:2, 4).

*William O. Cushing, 1823-1902

*Photos from bling.com/images/free to use

Look at the Birds . . .

I've been watching them since last fall when, for the first time, I planted a shepherd's crook outside my front window and hung a bird feeder. There's a quiet joy watching these little creatures up close, flitting and swooping and eating. Every week I fill up the tube, and every day I see how much they've eaten.

Now my late husband was a real birder. Even after giving multiple bird books away, we still have enough to fill a library shelf along with several pairs of binoculars. He joined the Audubon Society and took regular bird walks. He practiced learning the calls and songs of the local birds. Sometimes he took the girls with him on his birding trips, where they not only learned about various birds but also plants and flowers. One day he and I got a close-up look at an eagle flying over our heads.

Birding was always his "thing," so for me to venture into his territory made me feel a little intimidated. At the same time, perhaps in a very miniscule way, I felt I was carrying on his legacy. As the months have passed, enjoying the birds has become increasingly more than that for me. Watching the black-eyed chickadees and sparrows brings peace and reassurance to my heart. I gather courage from them when I feel afraid, when I face yet another decision, and when my faith falters. Each time I pause at the window, I remember the words of Jesus when He said,

Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? . . . Therefore do not be anxious . . .

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.

Matthew 6:26, 31; 10:29-31 

Jesus, the ultimate story teller, knew how to take the common everyday things of life and draw spiritual truth from them. These constant reminders have a wonderful way of giving us perspective and inviting us to trust Him.

So, whether you're a real birder or just a novice like me, there's hope to be found in nature's object lessons all around us. 

Just look at the birds!

*Photos from Bing.com/images

Lessons from a Broken Doorknob

One day it works just fine, the next day it doesn't. Does this happen at your house, too?!

This time it was the back door. We've always called it the "back" door, but in reality it faces the street just like the front door. Maybe we should say "patio" door!

I knew I was in trouble when turning the doorknob didn't bring the latch in all the way and therefore I couldn't close the door. Hmmm . . . So I gave the door a good push. Success! I got the door closed but then the stubborn doorknob would not budge. There would be no coming and going out the "back" door until . . .

But wait! I could use the front door. The deadbolt worked fine as usual, but on closer examination I discovered the doorknob we seldom used had issues, too. That's all I needed . . . to have this one go completely and then I'd be stuck . . . either in or out. I've figured out a lot of things in the past 22 months but this job . . . well, I needed help.

Why is it so hard to ask for help? To communicate what we need?

Maybe it's because we don't want to bother people or inconvenience them (my default). Or we don't want to be indebted. Or it goes against our American ideal of independence. Or we don't want the added attention.

I've done a little thinking about this the last few days and even talked it over with my girls. There's something about community or interdependence that we miss when think we should be able to do life by ourselves. Perhaps we make assumptions about what's good for others, thereby seeking to manage their experiences. Letting them decide (yes or no) lessens our anxiety and frees us up to ask for what we need, invite friends over, or offer our gifts and abilities.

The night of the door jam, I found myself pacing the floor with the phone in my hand. A voice echoed in my mind: "If you ever need anything, please call me." So, taking a deep breath, I called.

"I'd be glad to help you, Sarah. How about my wife and I stop over tomorrow evening?" My eyes welled up with tears as I stuttered my thanks. The next day, I ran to Home Depot to pick up new doorknobs - and not the $9.97 variety either. In ten minutes flat our friend had the old locks out and the new ones in. Amazing!

And then they stayed. Unhurried, we chatted about our families, churches, and health concerns. About travel plans, my leaky gas meter, the house they would soon be selling. I will always remember their kindness in valuing our relationship enough to visit for a while. They blessed me beyond measure. I will think of them every time I open and close my "back" door.

Later, I thought of the joy I received from bringing a meal to a new mom, cleaning a friend's house before her son's graduation party, and visiting a lonely senior. I recalled the university students who shoveled two feet of snow off my driveway and had fun doing it. My friend with the green thumb who helped me with my garden and shared how coming over lifted her spirits. The brothers who cheerfully put in my air conditioners and left with a few of Barry's Greek books. The rich fellowship with old friends who came for the weekend to replace my bathroom floor. We all need the give and take of community. 

I'm learning . . . God meant it to be that way.

"Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God."

Hebrews 13:16 

A Double-Letter Memory . . .

Recognizing the familiar handwriting, I pulled the envelope out the stack of newly retrieved mail. I didn't need to see the return address to know one of my college roommates had sent it. Saving it until last, I carefully opened the card and settled into my favorite chair to savor the rare occasion of a handwritten note. 

"I have been strolling down Memory Lane lately," she wrote. "We are moving next month so have been decluttering! Lately my focus has been on the things accumulated in the attic. In going through files from college, I came across this."

I thumbed through the extra sheets in the card and found, much to my surprise, three pages she had hand-copied from a letter to me from my mom dated February 5, 1976. In it were Scriptural truths about God's provision of forgiveness and salvation and how to deal with doubts and introspection.

"I appreciated your mom's words again as I read them. So thankful the Lord allowed us to meet and become friends . . ."

Almost forty-one years to the day, my mom's words still rang true. All of a sudden, I missed her. In the days before easy FB communication, she had taken the time to faithfully write to me, to reassure my doubting heart, and to give me rock-solid truth to give me perspective and renew my confidence in His Word . . . which I had, in turn, shared with my roommate all those years ago.

This past week my own college-age daughter came home for spring break. So much catching up to do . . . so much to talk about. It didn't take long for her to share her desire to do a Bible study with a friend. Did I have anything that could help?

I combed through my office and not only found some good resources to help her but discovered, quite by accident, the original letter my roommate had copied all those years ago! To think that we BOTH kept these words of wisdom . . . she, with her college memorabilia (now scanned onto her computer) and me, in my ABC file.

Here's an excerpt from Mom's letter: "There is a real danger in becoming too introspective. God wants us to search our hearts but not to dwell on our failures and inadequacies. Confess and forsake [Proverbs 28:13] and then keep our eyes on Him. To keep looking in is to be defeated for sure. We are to keep looking up to the "author and finisher of our faith" (Hebrews 12:2). He always finishes what He begins."

It's good to sort through years of accumulation and separate out what we don't need anymore. But there are a few memories that speak a timeless treasure. Worth keeping, wouldn't you agree?

A Open Letter . . .

As your Heavenly Father, I've noticed that you, as one of my precious children, have been sad and anxious lately. I am the God who sees your pain and your tears. I understand your frustration and desires. I see your less-than-perfect circumstances.

Because of my everlasting love for you, I allow situations to enter your life so you will grow and mature, becoming more like my Son. You see, I am more concerned about the patterns you are establishing and the process of learning to trust me than the symbols of success assigned by others or even yourself. I am working to weave positive character qualities into your life.

Diligence will always be your friend. Continue to work hard, but leave the outcomes to me. Aim to balance your work with creativity and service to others, nurturing the gifts I have given you. Respect those I have placed over you for your protection. Grace your attitudes with humility and a teachable spirit. Learn the habit of casting your cares upon me, even the seeming "unfairness" around you. My all-knowing point of view misses nothing. Trust me to write your story. There is purpose in it all.

Learn to appreciate even the difficult days. Truly believe I am in control of all things. When challenging times come your way, you choose to become bitter or better. As you move forward in life, your surroundings may change, but you will be the same. Your mindset will follow you. What kind of person are you becoming? Do not mimic some of my children who have been discontent and ungrateful. In the formative present, you are becoming who you will be in the future.

People of depth have endured hard times. Remember my servant, Peter? From a fisherman to a disciple of Jesus, to a church leader, to a writer, he understood the benefits of trials. "But may the God of all grace, who called us to His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after you have suffered a while, perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle you" (1 Peter 5:10).
 
Even though I have given you family and friends to help you, remember to come to me with your troubles. Tell me your fears . . . your worries. I will always hear your heart. When you take time to listen to my voice, I will give you my wisdom and strength. I will help you and never leave your side.

You are special to me. I have created you just right to serve me and bless others. I have a perfect plan for every day and every circumstance. More than anything I want us to have a close relationship. I will never let you down. I will always be faithful to you. I will always hold you in the palm of my hand.

I love you, dear child,
Your Heavenly Father


Photos from bing.com/images

Stopped in Your Tracks by . . . a Story?

So, what stories have made a difference in your life? I mean, really grabbed you, stopped you in your tracks . . . or gave you the courage to do what seemed impossible . . . or heightened your awareness with a wider, deeper perspective?

And what about the timing? You somehow picked up just the right book or article at just the right time, in just the right place. And you wonder . . . Where would I be if I hadn't read this?

At just the right time, one story breathed courage into my spirit. One story offered hope beyond the present unknowns. One story served as a grab bar when panic and despair threatened to steal away any strength I had left. Strength I needed to navigate the uninvited trauma that invaded our lives.

Page after page, I read Gracia Burnham's book, In the Presence of My Enemies. A halo--screwed into my skull to stabilize my broken neck--kept my head from moving, forcing me to face straight ahead. Compelled to use a hard-backed chair, I sat with my elbows on the dining room table, holding the book at eye level to see the pages . . . hungry for a word from God . . . searching for a hint of grace.

Gracia Burnham's memoir does not offer soothing verse or warm, wonderful stories. Her account reveals the horrors experienced by two American Missionaries taken captive in the Philippines. For over a year they and several other hostages were forced to traipse from place to place in the jungle, barely surviving oppression from their captors and the elements. In the end, Gracia's husband was shot and killed. 

Somewhere between the lines, I discovered a rare kind of strength. I witnessed a faithful God whose awareness and care for His children make a difference in the very worst of times. There at my dining room table, I determined that if Gracia could trust God in a most horrendous chapter of her life story, I could trust Him with this fearful and uncertain chapter of my own.

The power of her story made all the difference for me then - and continues to inspire me to this day. The right story at the right time . . .

So, what stories have made a significant contribution for you?


*Excerpts from the Introduction of Penned Without Ink: Trusting God to Write Your Story, to be released September 26, available on Amazon.com in paperback and Kindle Editions.

 Book Signing

Saturday Afternoon, November 5th, 2016

Duffy's Coffee House, 306 South State Street, Clarks Summit, PA 18411

Perfect Stories?

My author friends and I love to write. When we meet together to critique each other's writing, each of us has spent long hours since our last meeting spinning story lines. But our words are far from perfect. And we often read rewrites. Why? Because a writer doesn't get it right the first time. Our first drafts sound disjointed, lacking the smooth flow of ideas and the pluck of just the right word. The key to good writing is rewriting. I've been rewriting Penned Without Ink for six years!

Unlike me--or any other author--God writes perfect stories. He is perfect. He is faultless and whole. Only God qualifies as the ultimate "author and perfecter of our faith" (Hebrews 12:2).

The events surrounding our car crash in 2003 didn't seem to me to be a "perfect story."  How does the dark side of life fit with God's perfect ways? I'd rather embrace the miracles, the healings, and the transformed relationships, wouldn't you?

Instead, problems often overwhelm us, and we struggle with disappointment, pain, and unanswered questions. Has God forgotten us?

As the years have slipped by, I'm learning that my perfect plotline has more to do with God's character than with my circumstances. More to do with His loving consistent involvement in the midst of unsettling situations than with my idea of resolution. More to do with the God who watches and weighs all that happens, even when I can't see Him.

A.W. Tozer writes, "To the child of God, there is no such thing as an accident. . . . Accidents may indeed appear to befall him and misfortune stalk his way; but . . . we cannot read the secret script of God's hidden providence . . ." (We Travel an Appointed Way, p. 1)

Long ago, King David etched this timeless truth onto parchment: "The Lord will perfect that which concerns me" (Psalm 138:8). The word perfect carries the idea of complete. Another translation puts it this way, "The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me . . ."

So, what's your story today? Are you a little discouraged? Disappointed? Apprehensive? Remember, the perfect Master Writer has committed Himself to complete His perfect work in each of us. He desires us to trust Him with our life stories because, unlike any earthbound writer, God writes perfect stories . . . even when they take place in the fog on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

*Excerpts from Chapter Two, Penned Without Ink: Trusting God to Write Your Story.

Penned Without Ink, to be released September 26, is available in paperback or Kindle on amazon.

Photos from bing.com/images

The Memory of a Man

2012

One year.

The events of May 15, 2015 changed my life and the lives of many others forever. It's been a year since my husband, Barry, passed away. 

2014 Birthday

A year of tears, loneliness, and loss. A year of uncertainty mixed with grit and determination. A year of learning about cars, home repairs, finances, health insurance, and legal matters. A year of trying to think of what he might decide . . . and of learning about myself . . . without the man who would do anything for me.

It's also been a year filled with grace. A year of experiencing God's loving-kindness and mercy day after day, night after night. Even through the tears. Even when I paced the floor wondering what to do. Even when one more thing went wrong. God's grace often showed up in the form of new friends and old, who came along side at just the right time to give counsel, coach me through home projects, and offer wisdom about everything from tax questions to gardening. 

Barry with his siblings

So, how does one commemorate a life? What would you do? On Friday, I found our local Red Cross and gave blood. It seemed fitting in light of our car accident in 2003 when someone else's life-giving blood saved Barry's life. Our family is spending the weekend together, the girls cutting squares from Barry's shirts to make quilts. Good memories mingled with masculine patterns and the hum of sewing machines somehow seem comforting. 

Mexico in 2002

The words of Steve Green's song have played themselves over and over in my mind during these months: "May all who come behind us find us faithful." When a person passes on, everything is left behind. I've done my share of sorting Barry's "everything" over the last year. And as I've sifted through boxes and files and papers and drawers, I've found him faithful. Faithful to God. Faithful to me. Faithful to our girls.  A wonderful legacy. 

Memory Quilt, May 15, 2016

So, today as we remember Barry, I pray we will be faithful . . . in the little things and in the big things . . . and that we will run with perseverance the race marked out for us (Hebrews 12:2). 

The Tug-of-War Between Dread and Trust

So, what are you looking forward to this year? A long-planned vacation? A family reunion? A conference or get-away weekend?  Spring?! I have a few things I'm anticipating. Visits with my grandboys--and their parents! Planting a variety of veggies in our new lasagna garden we prepared in the fall. Attending the Montrose Christian Writers Conference. Oh! And I have a book coming out in early September.

On the other hand, are you dreading some things coming up? 

I'll be honest with you. I find myself dreading quite a list of things. Things like filling out the FAFSA, a necessary form for my daughter to attend college. Or, figuring out what to do when my crawlspace is suddenly taking on water. Or, tackling the paperwork to obtain another year of health insurance. I find myself a little fearful and anxious about travel and health issues and even maintaining the house long-term.

I'm learning that dread and trust are at opposite ends of the spectrum. If I'm dreading, I'm not trusting the God who promises to walk beside me and be my refuge and strength through both the big and little challenges.

I'm not alone in this tug-of-war between dread and trust. Way back in the days when the Hebrew people found themselves on the brink of the Promised Land, Moses spoke these words, "Dread not, neither be afraid . . . Yet in spite of this word [the people] did not believe (trust, rely on, and remain steadfast to) the Lord [their] God" (Deuteronomy 1:29, 32, The Amplified Bible). They wandered around in the wilderness for forty years before enjoying the blessings God had planned for them.

Lately, I've been challenged by the apostle John's words to "practice the truth" (1 John 1:6). The truth that God invites us to come to the throne of grace to ask for wisdom. The truth that He will never leave us or forsake us. The truth that He has a purposeful plan for my life and will guide me every step of the way. He invites us to trust Him.

With God's grace (and the help of the accountant), the FAFSA and health insurance paperwork are complete. Throughout the past months, over and over, God has given me every reason to trust Him. These serve as monuments to help me remember the truth the next time my stomach knots up and I find myself dreading instead of trusting. 

Dread not. Neither be afraid. 

Photos from Google Images.

Pullin' Out the Paint

I love our home.

Our family moved in on the last day of July 1987. We overlooked the worn shag carpet, the1970s flowered orange wallpaper, and the steel windows, which we had to push from the outside to close. We knew we'd someday remodel the kitchen with very little cupboard or counter space surrounding the old ceramic sink. Yet to us, it became our home. With a wonderful job opportunity for my husband and two little girls underfoot, we moved in with young energy and resolve.

Over time, we tore up old carpet, tamed walls with quieter colors, replaced windows, reworked the bathroom, and after much deliberation, gave the kitchen a makeover. In 1998, we tore down the tiny garage and replaced it, doubling its size and adding a guest room in the back. More recently, we sided and insulated. In between all that, Barry mowed the grass, cleaned out gutters, and repaired broken faucets and leaky pipes. He primed and painted. He took good care of our little "estate."

He's gone to live in his heavenly home now, where he's free from all the chores he so faithfully took care of day after day, year after year. I suddenly inherited all those responsibilities. And I'm finding it a bit overwhelming.

Our daughter, a senior in high school, has done a wonderful job keeping the yard looking trim. I've appreciated help from extended family, neighbors, and friends. Yet I worry about how long I can live here and keep the place up. Our place. Our home.

In the past couple weeks, I've noticed a couple of neighbor friends, single like me, caulking and painting. One just retired and the other is 70-something. There's courage to be found in the initiatives of those around us. I've set mouse traps, cleaned siding, and fixed doorbells the past few months, so why couldn't I scrape the doorway leading into the garage, pull out the paint, and brighten up the side entry a little?

I suppose someday I'll have to trade this property for something smaller, but in the meantime, I want our home--my home--to be more than plaster and paint, I want it to be warm and inviting, a safe and nurturing space for all who cross the threshold, with room to sense God's presence and study His Word, to pray and write and laugh and cry. 

To grow.

So next time you're pulling' out the paint, remember the deeper purposes of home. And even when we have to downsize, we can take that part of it along with us.