All the Way Home

When's the last time you wondered if you would make it home safely? Not long ago, after visiting my dad at the hospital, the distance between me and my family at home stretched out much longer than usual. Here's the story:

As I stepped outside the hospital entrance, unexpected sleet rained down, making the sidewalks slushy and slick. All I could think was, "I have to get home." I gingerly inched my way to my car, managed to open the door, and plopped into the seat. Still shivering, I turned the key, eyed the creeping traffic, and pulled onto the road. How many miles home? Maybe ten? "Oh, Lord, please help me," I prayed.

I'm the kind of person who tends to break up an overwhelming job or project into manageable pieces. I have memories of helping our daughters with school projects and piano pieces this way. We would divide the task up and do one part or measure at a time. Pretty soon, they'd be finished.

All the way home that Sunday night, as sleet pelted the windshield, I found myself setting small goals. Just get to the next traffic light, then to the next. On the highway, I joined the slow-moving traffic moving from one exit to the next, to the next, I thanked God for every safe milestone. At last, I pulled into the driveway, hit the garage door opener, glided to a stop, and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally home!

Sometimes, life's a little like my white-knuckled drive home. We feel afraid and uncertain, wishing for better circumstances and safer conditions. We didn't ask for this unexpected situation. But God promises His presence one "light," one "exit," one day, one hour at a time. We don't need to focus on the whole journey, just the bit that's before us . . . all the way to our heavenly home.

Remembered With Grace . . .

Saturday, April 5, 2003 . . .

Sudden fog,

like a white curtain dropped without mercy,

     mingles with smoke,

     screaming sirens,

     and angels lifting vacationers

     from cars, now charred and twisted.

The future hangs shrouded

     in the thick, woolly air . . .

I lay under a blanket dazed and damaged.

God's gaze penetrates the dense whiteness.

He remembers me with grace.

Five hours from home, we helplessly stared into the eerie whiteness on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as we barely tapped what must have been a car ahead of us. If this is all we hit, we'll  be okay, I thought. I turned around to check on five-year-old Elisabeth. At that moment, a crushing impact from behind convulsed us back and forth like rag dolls. Elisabeth's legs flew up. My husband clutched his sides in agony.

Oblivious to the fire, explosions, screams, and scraping metal piercing the murky mist around us, I heard only one message beat like a drum in my mind: "We have to get out of the car, out of the car, out . . ."

Somehow, in the ensuing chaos of the twenty-plus vehicle pile-up, helicopters life-flighted the four of us to three different hospitals. Thankfully, the girls were discharged with minimal injuries. With a broken neck and shattered vertebra, I faced two major surgeries. Barry's life became a flickering candle in the dark of a coma.

Eleven years have passed since that fateful day. Eleven years since those daunting days of whispered what-ifs, victories and set-backs, prayers and tears. Today, we remember eleven years of God's daily faithfulness along with the wonderful love and care of family, friends, and even people we didn't know.
 
God remembered us with grace . . . a grace that is sufficient on the darkest of days.


(Taken from Chapter Two of my book, Penned Without Ink: Trusting God to Write Your Story.)

A Spring in Your Step?

Spring! March 20 dawned cold with a few flurries by evening. But somehow I felt we collectively turned a corner. We can now leave the blast of winter behind for the hoped-for warmth of the sun and for green grass, flowers, and . . . gardening.

Today, our family visited a local farmer who participates in Community Supported Agriculture (CSA). Outside we stepped over tired snow piles and mud. But inside Tim's greenhouse, we witnessed rows of green, luscious lettuce - several varieties. He told us about his soil, how he cares for his gardens, and what he hopes to harvest and have available for his customers. We purchased some greens and had a scrumptious salad for supper. A taste of more to come!


My friend, Susan Vinskofski, is a Master Gardener and has written a wonderful e-Book about gardening titled The Art of Gardening: Building Your Soil. Complete with illustrations by artist Deb Hamby, this resource offers step by step instructions on how to take a garden from good to great. Susan's website has been a most helpful resource for all things healthy: learningandyearning.com

Springtime reminds us of new birth and youth. It's the time for planting, for the resurrection of grass and perennials, for bursting leaves and buds, for sap and growth. It's the time for animals to bring their young into the world. It marks the time of new beginnings.

We usually don't  associate spring with "old age," but tucked in an ancient psalm I found these words:

The righteous flourish like a palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the Lord; they flourish in the courts of our God. They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green, to declare that the Lord is upright; he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him.

(Psalm 92:12-15, emphases added)

Now that's enough to put a spring in your step!

When Friends Become "the Face of God"

"Women friends become the face of God to one another-

the face of grace, of delight, of mercy." *

This past week, someone asked me to serve on a committee. I asked the typical questions and requested a day to think it over, then asked for a couple more days. I jotted down the pros and cons, tried to determine if my responsibilities would fit with my gifts, and prayed.

You see, to me this represented more than a position on a work committee. I'm at a crossroads. A seam. A place where the present emerges from the past. Where should my focus lie now?

I reached for perspective from friends, friends I have come to appreciate and trust.

Every other Monday, a group of writers meets around my dining room table. We critique manuscripts, trouble-shoot blogs, and offer ideas and encouragement. After years of meetings, we've become close friends. 

This past week when a few lingered at the table, I asked their advice about my decision. They listened. They heard my heart. And they shared insights I had not considered before. They brought clarity and objectivity to my decision.

Friends feed my soul. They help me grow. They keep me accountable. 

Another long-time friend lives in a neighboring state. We email and chat every so often. Pick up where we left off. Last week she shared a few thoughts on accountability from Jennifer Rothschild - questions to ask a friend:

1. What do you see in my life that encourages you?

2. What do you see in my life that you would like to caution me about?

3. What else would you like to tell me?

Proverbs 27:17 sums it up well: "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another."

So, what role do friends play in your life? Are they "the face of grace, of delight, of mercy"? I want to be that kind of friend, don't you?


*From Captivating, by John and Stasi Eldredge, page 180.

 

Do Unseen Forces Tinker with Technology?

Most of last week, our internet didn't work - and since our phone depends on the internet for incoming and outgoing calls, let's just say I felt a little cut off from the world. Well, at least my world.

So, when my daughter needed to go to the library to do her homework, I took my laptop with me. Easy enough. But, for some reason, I couldn't pick up the wireless. And I had a deadline to meet in a matter of hours. I hurried home to pick up a jump drive, saved the two devotionals on it, and my daughter kindly saved them onto her computer. We got them out in time! Teenagers can be wonderful.

I did a little thinking over the quiet "technology-less" week. How dependent on the World Wide Web was I, really? Social media and email are important to a writer. We are supposed to log in, post, read, leave comments, and interact online. But my growing annoyance and frustration with the long wait seemed to be telling me something. Or asking the question, "Can I find a better balance in all this?"

During my "week off," I organized my office, wrote and mailed a few notes (using paper), and did some baking. I also took some time to read and jot down a few quotes from a book someone loaned me: Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul by John and Stasi Eldredge. Have you read it? I needed time to digest the ideas on femininity and found myself grateful for the stillness . . . still mulling it over, by the way . . .

Now we're back online. We have a dial tone on our house phone. My son-in-law patiently pushed a tiny hidden switch on my computer, and we installed our new passwords.

So, what do you think? Do demons tinker with technology? Some days it may seem like a plausible explanation. Or maybe, just maybe it's angels who mix up the wires . . . to help us see beyond the here and now, beyond the visible urgent to the invisible important.

The Chronology of a Life . . . in a File Drawer

Another snow day . . . I eyed my file cabinet and decided to go for it--the third drawer, that is. I carefully opened it up and took the "file pile" off the top. I'd get to that later. I began with the first folder: "A." I evaluated every piece of paper, every article, every poem all the way to file folder "Z." Then I looked through the topical folders from "Activities and Games" to "Weddings." By the middle of the second snow day, I got to my "file pile." By late afternoon, my husband had cleared the driveway of nearly two feet of snow, and I had thrown out a couple bags of papers from my drawer. 

And I made a surprising discovery.

What began as a chore turned into a lifetime of memories for me. I began saving quotes, articles, and pamphlets in high school. During my college years, I took a class called "Pastor's Wife" that required a file, which I took with me to our first ministry. I filed many of the brochures and programs for mother-daughter events, missionary conferences, and for "Graceful Living" as we called our ladies' Bible studies. I remembered the people who invested in my life during those early years with gratefulness. 

When we moved in 1987,  I brought my file box with me and continued to add to it: notes from speaking opportunities and shower devotionals, missionary cupboard plans, ideas for summer vacations and holidays, more women's ministry remembrances. I kept some letters from my mom with advice and menu ideas. I saved articles on mothering, forgiveness, marriage, and teenagers. Decades of service and ideals all organized in alphabetical order. One file drawer represented the chronology of a life.

I noticed something else. The face of Christianity has changed. It seems to me the definitions of holiness have softened. What appeared so important at one time has moved off center stage, all but forgotten. Said another way, how we express our faith has somehow been altered over the years. I'm still mulling over the implications of it all . . .

As I closed my now-tidy drawer, I couldn't help but think about God's faithfulness. Society, both sacred and secular, has changed since my husband and I began our lives together in 1979, but God has not. His Word still offers relevant guidance. He is still "our refuge and strength" (Psalm 46:1). We can count on His presence every single day! 

So, if you could view your life story in one file drawer on a snowy afternoon, what would you find?

Through With the Flu . . .

I never get sick. 

At least it's been a number of years. Not that I'm a picture of perfect health. But the flu? A cold? Not in a long time.

So on Monday night when I sense that "I-hope-I'm-not-coming-down-with something" feeling, I line up my "beat-the-bug" potions on the counter and follow the protocol to a T. But by Tuesday evening, I feel my grip on wellness waning. By Wednesday, I find myself in bed the better part of the day - and the next.

During broad daylight with the shades drawn, I shiver under multiple blankets, trying not to move even one achy muscle--and take time to reflect. I think about the past six months . . . our youngest daughter's missions trip to South Africa, the end of my mom's prolonged illness and her death, my dad's open-heart surgery and successful recovery, the recent stay of our oldest daughter and cute little grandson . . . all laced with God's grace and goodness. Perhaps the let-down of it all has something to do with this illness of mine!

I feel vulnerable--a feeling I don't like. It reminds me that I'm not as in control as I sometimes think I am. In reality, my days are in God's hands. Perhaps He allows times like this for reflection, to slow me down, to help me perceive the truly important. To re-evaluate my goals--and list. Once again, I see the importance of a softer approach to my work, my relationships, my experiences . . . one that leans a little more toward grace, kindness, and understanding. One that trusts God a little more with the details.

I hope I'm through with the flu. And even though my mom's not here to tell me, "Don't do too much too soon," I'll try to follow her advice.

So, what do you think about when you're slowed down by the sniffles, the flu, or some other unnamed bug that's going around? 

 Nothing shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:39)