Wind in the Woods

Waiting

2010-03-10T14:40:00.000-05:00

While I busily edit the 52 letters I wrote to our first granddaughter, I wait -- somewhat patiently -- for the arrival of her baby sister. Understand, I'm not nearly as anxious as Becky is, but I sure want to meet this new member of the Wolfe's Den. Since Dave and I live as retirees, when we get the call, we'll head out toward Georgia. I have our bags partially packed and have purchased two new little girl outfits, one for each granddaughter.

Waiting does not come naturally to me.Exodus recalls Moses and Joshua leaving Arron and Hur and telling them to "Wait here until we come back to you." Anyone who had a dispute was supposed to come to the two left waiting and have the matter settled. We know, sadly, what happened. Aaron started crafting the golden calf.Later, the Levitical laws stipulated the time a woman had to wait after childbirth before declared purified. As Joshua prepares to take Jericho, he sends me to wait in ambush between Bethel and Ai. As the new leader, Joshua prod the people into action, asking them "How long will you wait before you begin to take possession of the land that the Lord, the God of your fathers, has given you?"

Ruth waits by Boaz, King Saul makes sacrifice himself, refusing to wait for Samuel. Also rebellious, Joab says, "I'm not going to wait for you," and then plunges three javelins into Absalom's heart. Job waits for a audience with God and then realizes the folly of his questioning the Almighty. The prophets waited for the Messiah while they preached the message of repentance that fell on deaf ears. During 400 years of silence, Israel suffered, but continued to hope for the coming of Yeshua. Now we look to Revelation, saying, "Maranatha, even so come Lord Jesus."

The psalms give many practical words on the subject of waiting. "Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." (Ps 27:14) "We wait in hope for the Lord; He is our hope and our shield." (Ps 33:20) "Wait for the Lord and keep His way." (Ps 37:34) Then there's the confidence in Ps 38:15 when it says, "I wait for you, O Lord; you will answer, O Lord my God." Again, in Ps 130:6, the psalmist affirms "My soul waits for the Lord more than the watchmen wait for the morning." That's hopeful anticipation. These verses show me that waiting takes strength, heart, hope, and confidence.

Whenever I struggle with waiting, I return to Isaiah 30:18 where I see the depth of God's love for me. "Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for Him." So whether we wait for babies, a new job, a medical diagnosis or for the coming of spring, we wait in the confidence of our God: "I am God, and there is no other; I am God and there is none like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, 'My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose."

Editing

2010-03-06T12:23:00.000-05:00

Our first granddaughter, born in the summer of 2007, will grow up in the South, most likely in Georgia. Her Grandpa and I lived near Annapolis, but planned to retire in western Maryland. So I knew the distance between us would challenge me. How could I build bridges, create a storehouse of information for her that she could read later in her life? What could she have from me after I had left this world?

My solution grew into a year's worth of letters, written one per week on a Monday, and emailed to her parents. The letters started in July 2007 and ran through her first birthday. My favorite Christmas present in 2008 was the scrapbook Brent and Becky created and gave me. They printed out all 52 letters, added a few photos to the album, and wrapped it in hours of work and love. What a treasure! Someday, I thought, I'd like to publish this book, at least for the family. Maybe I'll get the nerve to search for a publisher.

Much of the content of the letters centers on faith and family. For example, I want her to know the Bible's definition of marriage as a union between one man and one woman until death parts them. I have no idea what her culture will define as marriage twenty or more years from now, but I want her to know that Grandma believed Scripture, not just about marriage, but about life. So I wrote about obeying her parents, thanking God for the heritage she has in her extended family, about our prayers for her as a covenant child. In my April letters I wrote about the warm yellows of forsythia bushes and the hyacinths bursting forth in pinks and lavenders. That led me to the Creator of all these beautiful plants.

Family gatherings allowed her to meet her Great Grandma Wolfe, so I told her about this missionary who played the organ, painted, and spoke fluent Japanese in her younger days. And every time I left our granddaughter, my next letter told about the ache in my heart, about the love I have for her. I gave her the family history of her middle name, told her I prayed for her sensitive tummy to get better, for shots not to make her out of sorts. She can't read my letters now, but there's coming a day!

One goal of my letter writing involves challenging today's grandparents to pass on more than china and silver to the next generation. I call my idea intentional grandparenting. What do you really know about your grandparents? The only information I know about my paternal grandmother is that she sang and had strawberry blond hair like mine. Because she died before my parents even met, I have only seen a hand full of photos of her. How sad.

These days, when he's not out shoveling snow, my husband spends much time researching Wolfe genealogy. One of his best "finds" is a journal written by a relative who watched, the battle between the Monitor and the Merrimack. Yes, people stood on the shore as observers during the Civil War. Another Civil War letter, written by a fellow soldier, tells Dave's paternal great-great grandmother what he knows of her husband's death near Ft. Monroe, Virginia. He describes Albert Weaver as he faced death as one having "a cheerful Christian resignation to the will of God."

I know that technology allows us to Facebook and Twitter one another moment by moment these days, but I still plan two more letter writing projects that will begin this year. One of our sons and his wife expect their second child any day now. Our younger son and his wife expect their first child in August. And, yes, both children will have a year's worth of letters from Grandma Wolfe.

The Winter Project

2010-03-04T22:01:00.000-05:00

As a college freshman taking Old Testament Survey, I began to journal. Quite simply, I typed a list of Bible verses at the end of each month, one special verse for each day. The first Christmas Dave and I were married (1968), I wrote our Christmas letter as a story of Li'l Red Riding Hood and the Wolfe. Somehow I didn't think I'd continue yearly editions, so I didn't even save copies of the early letters. Over the years I journaled in fits and starts, but when we moved to the cabin in November 2008, the size of the box marked "journals" surprised me. Someday, I thought, I ought to get those in order and read a bit of history.

A winter that brings over 260 inches of snow makes me tackle crazy, long overdue projects. So, armed with masking tape and a Sharpie, I began to place masking tape on the front of each volume and writing the inclusive dates on each journal. My inauspicious early tomes, now yellow with age in spiral notebooks, gave way to capricious floral covers, fake velvets and stately leather books. I skimmed some volumes and noted particular events of that time period, i.e, Mom's death, or Brent and Becky's engagement. Some days I slowed down the overall project by reading the entire journal. Having accomplished the labeling and tasting of a bit of the writing, these first three impressions surfaced.

Over forty years thousands of prayer requests went before the Lord. I read prayer lists about battles of the flesh, death, disappointment, sins of various types and degrees. Also, I smiled over people's successes, education completed, marriages, babies, finances, people who came to faith in Christ, people who, with God's grace, junked many bad habits. And I laughed about all the prayer requests for cars! Probably because Dave and I worked with College & Career for 8 years,I taught high school students,and had two sons, I prayed countless times for cars that broke down or needed to be replaced. At one point I was convinced that there would be no cars in heaven because Revelation speaks of no tears there! Conclusion: God hears and answers the prayers offered in faith in accordance with His will. We don't just toss words off the ceiling, but we have a most elementary understanding of the One to whom we pray and how He answers. While still very much a child learning to pray, I know God answers. The topic of prayer will find its way into future journals.

Bible reading/studying, even in small snippets, have framed most days of my life. I found the day I first realized the exact meaning of Isaiah 64:6 "all our righteousness is as filthy rags." Exact and graphic! Written hundreds of years ago, Scripture continually infused my life with purpose and meaning. My paraphrases of portions of Scripture recalled special times of communion with Christ. I saw the day the Lord had opened my eyes to new things. Information I had shared in Bible studies for years had a day of personal discovery. Sharper than any two-edged sword, the Bible lives; it shows me truths and won't let me ignore my motivation. God speaks through it whenever I will read and seek the Holy Spirit's help in understanding and applying it.

Looking over the four decades, I realized life moved at a frantic pace most of the time. I stumbled through experiences, missed the important because of the tyranny of the urgent, and got many things wrong. Too many times in my mother's final months of life, I didn't write about her at all. Yet, God repeatedly gave me grace. His comfort held me then and He confirmed His love for her and for me in the verses of Scripture I read and the children's Bible songs I sang back to her in the waning hours of her life.

Winter's not over yet here in the mountains of western Maryland, but I've already gleaned three important insights from my journals. Guess I'll keep on reading a bit here and there. God's faithful and I believe nothing in my life has been wasted. I think you'll find the same true in your life as you take inventory over the way God has sovereignly directed your life. Happy winter project!

Flashdrives and God's Sovereignty

2010-02-24T12:50:00.001-05:00

When Matt and Julie spent the weekend here in mid-January, we did not have this much snow. However, this photo, taken Sunday afternoon, February 21, shows some of the snowbank created by our record snows this winter. I thought about a modern rendering of the famous painting "American Gothic," and got the idea that the Garrett County winter of 2010 version, might make a cute blog photo. We talked about taking the picture on Saturday when we returned from the Winterfest in Oakland, but the sun was down too low. Sunday morning we leave here early for the 40-minute drive we have to church; thus the photo op didn't happen until shortly before Matt and Julie pulled out and headed home. That's when God's sovereignty and flash drives met.

Julie got home after their January weekend and couldn't find her flash drive. Had she left it here? forgotten it at Brenda's Pizzeria? left it in our Jeep? The information on the drive included a list of wedding guests and their addresses, graduate research papers, and photos. Then there's the entire issue of identity theft. Needless to say, Dave and I looked under beds, around couches, near the keyboard and in the Jeep. Julie called the restaurant and I asked our pastor's wife if anyone had discovered a flash drive at church or in the Sunday School room. The drive was nowhere to be found, so Julie and Matt began to recreate their guest list. And we all prayed for the lost to be found.

But time passed and snow fell. Dave and I returned from Florida on February 13, and happily, one neighbor had plowed our long, steep driveway while another neighbor had shoveled a narrow path into the backdoor.We nestled in and watched it snow more virtually every day. Dave's daily routine involved about two hours of shoveling and Pat used the scoop on his tractor to lift the snow onto banks that grew to almost ten feet in height. Yet, for some reason, when Julie and Matt came back February 19, we thought the flash drive might show up. At least Matt and Julie tried to get back here. When they were only about a mile away, Dave went to retrieve them and get their car parked back down our mountain.

In Luke 12, Jesus asks, “Are not five sparrows sold for two cents? Yet not one of them is forgotten before God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows." Wow! We see a modern example of the God who counts the hairs on our head. He had been watching out for that flash drive. At photo time, as Matt walked across the driveway, now amazingly down to the wet, black gravel, he saw Julie's flash drive lying there on the ground. Not scooped up by the tractor or shoveled into woods, but there in plain sight. As Matt and Dave assessed the drive, they agreed that a few days of drying out and all the information should be available. Doubt God's sovereign on the smallest details of our lives? Not me.

The Storehouses of the Snow

2010-02-15T22:55:00.010-05:00

When Job demanded an audience with God, the Lord responded with His own inquiries starting in chapter 38: "Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm. He said: 'Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.'" The questions posed, and there are whole chapters of questions, confirm that our ways and our thoughts are not His! One question God posed to Job has captured my imagination this winter. “Have you entered the storehouses of the snow..."

The locals tell us that Garrett County, site of our cozy log cabin, has already recorded 205 inches of snow this winter. So while I have no idea what the "storehouses of snow" must look like, I'll try to show you a bit of the beauty of the pristine snow falls we ahve experienced here, and praise God for His beauty. The large mound to the left of the Jeep is our Mercury Sable. The small lump to the left of the Sable is Dave's ATV!

The beauty and serenity of the stately evergreens and the icy flow of Bear Creek frame the life we now know in retirement. And we give God thanks for living in the midst of His beauty, His presence, His peace.

Hospitality, Miami Style

2010-02-11T12:46:00.000-05:00

When our son Bryan suggested we come to Miami to see some of his soccer team's games in late January, none of us realized the chosen time for its impact on housing. January 28-Feb 6, intersected the Pro Bowl weekend and included our spending the week leading up to the Super Bowl, both held this year in Miami. On top of this, Bryan and Stacey actually live in Honolulu now and have rented their condo here. Bryan has a room with another teacher and his folks. Then the blizzards of 2010 hit BWI airport and extended our stay in Florida. Needless to say, our budget had no plans quite like this! Then a family from Westminster Christain offered us two bedrooms (in case Bryan wanted to stay here with us) in their beautiful 6-bedroom home. So I went out to read and relax in the above surroundings!

Scripture talks about hospitality from the directive in Romans 12, "Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality," to the commendation give to Gaius, "whose hospitality I and the whole church here enjoy." In I Timothy, Paul, in listing good deeds of widows, mentions "Showing hospitality," and Peter speaks of offering hospitality to one another without grumbling." This dear family has even shared their pets with us. The yellow lab, Shania, and Elvis, the friendly cat who likes it when I read to her (OK, so it should be Elvira), seem to enjoy the extra attention they get from us. We are so grateful for God's provision for us through them. Thanks to Jack, Adele, Chuck and Jillian for all your kindnesses to us

With Thanks for My Girls

2010-02-08T12:23:00.001-05:00

Happily, none of the in-law jokes apply to my dear daughters-in-law. Brent married Becky over a decade ago, and their Little Stuff will gain a baby sisiter in a few weeks. Stacey celebrates her birthday tomorrow and will hopefully, soon not experience morning sickness all day long! Bryan finishes the soccer season here in Miami later this month and will fly to Honolulu so he and Stacey can celebrate their seventh anniversary together on March 1. They expect their first child in August. I know how graciously the Lord has dealt with me, and I give HIm thanks.

As I've read through the burnt, grain, fellowship and sin offerings described in Leviticus, I looked at Lev 22:2 "Tell Aaron and his sons to treat with respect the sacred offerings the Israelites consecrate to me, so they will not profane my holy name. I am the Lord." In very practical terms, how do I treat with respect these lovely women the Lord brought into our family? For me, part of the answer to that parallels my personal growth as a believer in Christ. Colossians 2:6 says, "So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness."

Too often, family strife erupts when our own spiritual life languishes. When we concentrate on growing up into Christ, we pray instead of meddle. Remember the Genesis foundation for marriage, that a man was to leave his parents, cleave to his wife, and the two will become one flesh? That means our children's marriages are theirs. Don't stew about decisions that the next generation makes. Pray for their ever-growing relationship to Christ and to each other. Pray for selfishness to be less important in our lives rather than telling family members they should be less self-centered. Recite to the Lord His gracious promises about the strengthening our faith provides. Finally, as per Col 2:6, overflow with thankfulness. Keep looking for the things that make you overflow with thankfulness rather than reciting a litany of grousing.

So Happy Birthday, Stacey. Thanks to you and Becky for giving me a waterfall of thankfulness as my daughters-in-love.

Florida Highlights

2010-02-06T11:16:00.000-05:00

While Bryan goes off to work each day, Dave and I craft adventures here in Miami. Dave and I, house guests of a WCS family, headed to Homestead yesterday to discover the faming areas of south Florida. Our first stop took us to the Knaus Berry Farm's bakery, famous for its sticky buns. Needless to say, several folks from here placed orders for us to pick up! Dave then decided that we should share a milk shake from Robert Is Here to complete our breakfast. Robert, who began selling cucumbers in 1960, now sells fruits and vegetables along with an array of fresh-made milkshakes! Dave chose a key lime milk shake to complete the decadent breakfast!

Following the Redland Trail through the agricultural area, Dave stopped next at RF Orchids. The hostess greeted us with a cup of guava juice that we sipped as we walked through the artistic displays of orchids and bronze garden statues that far eclipsed our pocketbook! The color, delicacy, intricacy and even fragrance of orchids boggle my mind. Given the wonders of just one kind of flower reminds me of God's plethora of designs. No Creator? Impossible to comprehend!

We finished our day at Florida International University's soccer field where we saw the Westminster Christian guys play in the regional quarter final game and defeat Florida Christian 5-0. Do I miss the snow? What snow?

Tired of the Being Bad Hype

2010-02-05T11:32:00.001-05:00

Luke 7: 44-47 presents a story that I find difficult. "Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, 'Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little.'” Why difficult? Because we all have sinned, and when we realize our need and Christ's provision, we love deeply, for we see we have all been forgiven much.

Yet, somehow the more spectacular conversion stories get labeled as 'real' while the rest of us get lumped into a category called boring conversion stories. I have actually lived this! At a faculty gathering many years ago, the hostess wanted one of us to share how we came to faith in Jesus. She stole a cursory glance at me and then said, "No, not you, You're story is boring." My sin, while not cast in the Anne Lamott mold, certainly qualifies me as a needy sinner. Actually, as I think of it, my Dad understood this back in the 50s and made it painfully clear to me. At that time church activities for teens involved taking a group to hear some ex-criminal's electrifying testimony. A foreign language would have communicated to me more clearly than Jim Voss' story did. Syndicated crime, and wire taps didn't mirror my life in rural New York. Anyway, after one such youth rally, I made the mistake of hinting to my Dad that I had, perhaps, not been bad enough yet to have turned to Jesus. With all his Dutch ire, he told me straight out, "In being born you were sinful enough to need Christ." Immediately, Dad put a moritorium on my future trips to hear such testimonies!

Experiencing forgiveness for abortions, drug addiction, eating disorders, theft, affairs, and other traumas allows a new convert to marvel at the love and grace offered in Jesus' salvation. But all humans soon discover that sin manifests itself in thoughts, words and deeds. The thought and word sins debilitate too, even if they're not as visible as the deeds.

The older I get, the more I thank God for the gift of life He extended to me through Jesus' sacrifice on my behalf. I also have grown to thank Him for not taking me through all the sins I could have wallowed in through the years. After all, I am a child of the 60s, and I still struggle with sin every day. I just get tired of the hype or supposed super validity of the bad. All of us know the authenticity of our dark sins and truly thank God for His unspeakable gift of love and mercy.

Thoughts on Prayer

2010-02-02T23:10:00.118-05:00

Francis Bacon said, "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested." Right now I am chewing on C.S. Lewis' Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer. Pen in hand, I underline, pause to think, write cryptic notes in the margins, and stop to pray.

Lewis speaks of trying to pray "without words at all -- if one can really achieve it." I wonder if that relates to Brother Lawrence's The Practice of the Presence of God. Sadly, I have tried Lawrence's ideas only to fall flat on my face before 9AM. The clutter of my mind clogs the prominence of Christ all too quickly. My thoughts wander, I repeat words, phrases, ideas. When my prayers sound rote, I turn to Valley of Vision, the collected prayers of Puritan writers. Their precise language, sense of personal sin, and God's offer of marvelous mercy deepen my appreciation of God's grace. Somehow, my prayers gain more of a God-ward direction. I "grocery shop" my lists less often. I sit quietly and consider the awe and majesty due His name.

I don't want floating prayers that arise from my ideas, imagination or emotions, but I want to engage mind and spirit supported by the relationship Christ initates with me. Why? I have lived through times of using words or acronyms that became repetition that morphed into formulas. Christians desire to develop a deepening prayer life. one that truly communes with the Lord. But how is prayer done in holiness and to the glory of God? When I ask such quesitons, I align my plight with the disciples who asked Jesus, "Lord, teach us to pray."

My quest continues as I also ask the Lord to teach me to pray. While Lewis' ideas help, the Scriptures themselves guide. As I read the Bible, sound doctrine leads me. For today, that's enough to ground me as I talk to the Lord and take the time to listen to Him speak as the living Word speaks.

Birthday Blessings

2010-01-31T15:11:00.000-05:00

Birthdays and family go together in my mind, so living so far from each is often hard for me. Yet in 2009, I got to spend my birthday with Brent, Becky and Little Stuff. Today, Dave and I are celebrating my birthday in Miami with Bryan. We're also here watching the guys' soccer team at Westminster Christian. They won their district championship on Friday and play in the regional quarter final game on Thursday. While Maryland digs out after the snow storm, Bryan, his dad and I can enjoy the overcast skies but 70-degree weather. The gift of family and friends outshines any other gift.

After worship together today, seven of us, including friends from Bryan and Stacey's small group, went to lunch at the Titanic, a Miami microbrewery, similar to Ram's Head in Annapolis. We know all these friends and enjoyed a great lunch after church.

My personal reading for today took

me to Psalm 21-25. In addition to the beloved Shepherd's psalm and the psalm of Christ's agony on the cross (22), I honed in on Psalm 25. "Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long. Remember, O Lord, your great mercy and love, for they are from of old." That seems like a great birthday card from the Lord. I ask that this year the Lord may continue to show, teach, and guide me. The beautiful assurance I have from asking Him lies in the hope He gives me in His mercy and love.

Traveling Light

2010-01-30T21:40:00.001-05:00

Fifteen months ago Dave and I started downsizing as we planned our move to the cabin. Truth be told, we still need to have a huge yard sale in Arnold this spring to continue the process. After having lived in that same house for thirty years, stuff apparently grew, especially in the basement. I faced the problem again today when I began to pack for a 10-day trip to Miami. Wanting only carry-on luggage, we packed, unpacked, and repacked, all in an effort to get everything into two small suitcases, my purse and the computer case. It seems to make sense to travel light in other areas of life too. What about the emotions that we can carry with us as excess baggage? People may hurt us, speak badly of us, injure us, but all without malice. We really aren't always careful in dealings with other folks. Our clumnisiness or insensitivity can do so much harm. So in my packing, I need to stop swinging the words and actions around without thinking about those I may hit. But as well as hurting others, we've also been the recipients of others' hurts. Have we taken inventory lately? And after the assessment, are we willing to jettison some debilitating emotions and travel light?

Scripture speaks, telling us to "Put away" and "Get rid of" a variety of baggage: pride, lust, anger, bitterness, rage, slander, hatred, discord, jealousy, selfish ambition, impurity, witchcraft, and as Paul summarises in Ephesians 5, "along with every form of malice." As I think back over my own life and the lives of those I've counseled, I think we'd all do well to think about getting rid of baggage and traveling light. When I carry the emotional baggage Scripture speaks of, I harm myslef and I bang into others around me. How long will someone's comment to me or treatment toward me jade my life? I have found that allowing my mind to replay those hurtful incidents adds more baggage. I found that telling the Lord, rather than retelling the tale to other friends and family allowed God to pry my fingers off the pain. "Take my yoke upon you and learn of Me," provided wise counsel. I even told one friend we could get together but a particular topic was off limits. Amazing things happened. We branched into topics related to our families, our own spiritual areas of growth and emerging interests. We laughed more when together and gained a lighter heart. Life's too short to stop talking to friends and family members over something that neither of you can really remember clearly. And if the baggage comes from habits of jealousy or anger, that weight pins us physically, emotionally and spiritually. Packing for a simple trip made me think of things I've shuffled off and things that don't need to contniue with me in this life journey any longer.

Cherish Being Forgiven

2010-01-26T16:03:00.002-05:00

On this snowy day, I have just finished reading a novel dealing with abortion and an article dealing with divorce. The whiteness outside reminds me of Isaiah's words, "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow." No wonder I have forgiveness on my mind today.

When I think of my counseling years, I remember the deep pain for those involved in both abortion and divorce. When reconciliation doesn't occur, slipping into anger, resentment, bitterness and judgment come all too easily for us. And when these emotions demand center stage on our heart, we engage in a powerful spiritual battle.

To square off biblically, we must make a choice to put away any and all debilitating baggage. Colossians 3 says, "But now you must rid yourselves of..." Galatians 4 talks about returning to weak and miserable principles and asks, "Do you wish to be enslaved by them all over again?" I Peter 2:11 says, "I urge you as aliens and strangers in the world, to abstain from sinful desires which war against your soul." And the writer of Hebrews reminds us of Jesus' example. "Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." The work, and make no mistake, it is work, of choosing to put away pride, resentment, bitterness, shame, anger, and judgments requires consistency, prayer and dying to self. One thing that helps us in the daily assults involves NOT reciting a litany of personal griefs to others, but taking those hurts to God Himself. As we tell our heartaches to the Lord, we learn to cherish more deeply what it is to be forgiven by God.

After we read the list of "get rid ofs" in Ephesians 4:31, we must think about the depth of forgiveness God graciously granted us. "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." A quote from John Piper helps us put this in perspective: "You can go on holding a grudge if your faith simply means you are off the hook. But if faith means standing in awe of being forgiven by God, then you can't go on holding a grudge. You have fallen in love with mercy. It's your life."

As we daily make choices to put away the attitudes that hold us captive, and meditate on the depth of grace that has, through Christ's shed blood, forgiven us everything, we pray for an increase in trust. God cannot be pleased when we hold to our hurts or judgments. When we do, we really convey that we don't trust His justice to prevail. Romans 12:19 couldn't state it more clearly. "It is mine to avenge; I will repay." We may want to pound the gavel and insist on our pound of flesh and our timetable, but God plainly tells us to allow room for His wrath. And as that process known as sanctification kneads itself into our soul, we begin to trust that God's purpose in all the hurt or embarrassment of the situation has been to transform the most difficult, ugliest parts of our life into something for our good and His glory. The griefs from the trials "have come so that your faith -- of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire -- may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." I Peter 1:7

Seeing Through the Fog

2010-01-21T14:57:00.000-05:00

I looked into the pea soup of fog out the kitchen door and snapped the photo. The weather seemed to capture the lost clarity of January: Haiti's tragic earthquakes, people laid off work, hearts seemingly harden to God's call, husbands and wives struggling with their wedding vows. After a friend moved to Arizona, he found his SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) greatly relieved by the sunshine that blankets that state. Meanwhile, we in this area seem to live in the grey of winter.

Winter needs encouragement from sources outside the weather, or depression can steal in as quietly and pervasively as the fog. So how do we read -- and live -- beyond the written "moans" of Facebook and Twitter statuses? beyond the anguish of Haitian survivors' images on CNN and Fox? beyond the possibilities of a lost home or marriage? So often, the perspective of hope, once infused into a situation, melts the fog. No, not instantly, but the murky clouds start to lift.

We watched victims of the earthquakes sing and praise God they were alive, recovery teams from a myriad of countries working tirelessly to free survivors buried in rubble for over a week; tired but smiling Haitian orphans arrive in Pittsburgh. With each individual found alive, each rescue worker offered water, or each piece of red tape cut so children could leave Haiti and be adopted by parents here in America, the fog lifted a bit. Even closer to home, we may observe a couple beginning to work on their marriage or extended family making provision for those without work or a place to live. The sun may only wink from behind the clouds breifly, but the fog dissipates a bit more. True hope lies in looking up and catching sight of the Son as the hope we need most. Perhaps the fog descended just so we would look up.

Monday Meditation

2010-01-18T17:04:00.000-05:00

Our pastor continued his "Battling Unbelief" sermon series yesterday, talking for a second week about bitterness. When attitudes such as anger, bitterness, anxiety, pride, shame, or impatience cripple a believer, a key to healing lies in taking a biblical pill. The often hard-to-swallow medicine allows Scripture to illuminate an area where we battle unbelief. Every belief we hold dear jumps off the inert page of ideas or facts in our head and lives in the appetites of our hearts. Either we fasten these appetites to Christ in a quest for satisfaction or turn from Christ to seek satisfaction in someone or something else.
For example, when pride subdues us, we exemplify a deep form of unbelief. We really turn from God and seek satisfaction in self. Maslow's pyramid calls us to self-determination and a self-exaltation that dates back to Eden. James 4:6-8 teaches that the opposite of pride involves submitting to God. The fight for humility does not mean beating up on self in a series of self-deprecating verbal or physical blows. We engage in a battle with the wisdom of the full scope of Scripture. Romans 12:3 gives us a balanced weapon for the battle. " For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: 'Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you'." Sober judgment involves the measure of faith God has given.
Anxiety often rides in tandem to pride. Pride does not want to admit anxiety: stress perhaps, but not anxiety. But I Peter 5:7 teaches me this: "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." We can now begin to cherish the privilege of fellowship with God, the One who asks us to cast stress, cares, anxities, all on Him. Beginning to avail myself of the When we have a relationship with Christ, by grace, we can admit the need for help. Pride will not, cannot do this. In this battle with unbelief, we begin to see that real faith loves for God to be God. Jeremiah 13:15-16 reminds us: "Hear and pay attention, do not be arrogant, for the LORD has spoken. Give glory to the LORD your God before he brings the darkness, before your feet stumble on the darkening hills."
We can take heart whether the current struggle involves our pride, anxiety, covetousness or any other fallout from our broken world. Seeing the battle as one of unbelief sends us back to the captain of our souls, the one who can arm us because He is the prefecter of our faith.

Heart for Haiti

2010-01-14T13:16:00.002-05:00

This morning my eyes moved from Fox's TV images of Port-au-Prince to my digital frame photos of Stacey and Bryan when they went to Haiti last year on a medical trip to the photo I took when trying to bring Little Stuff home with us after Christmas!
Thanks to technology, we have received word that the missionaries we know who currently serve in Haiti have escaped injury from the devastating earthquake that rocked PAP on Tuesday evening. Initially, two women from our church's college and career group went to serve as missionaries in Haiti. Although we haven't journeyed to Haiti in years, a part of Dave's heart has stayed in that island nation since he first visited with Jerry McFarland in 1987. Dave and I returned in 1988 so I could experience malaria first hand; we made later, healthier trips; and Dave took each of our sons on his own father-son mission trip to Haiti. Our first two missionary friends introduced us to others serving in PAP, among them, a single woman from Ohio who chose to adopt 12 Haitian children, and an American music teacher whose Creole fluency amazed us. He and one of the missionaries eventually married each other and have stayed in Haiti. More recently, one of my former students, his family, and parents work at the Baptist Mission.
Even before a 7.0 earthquake hit, Haitian life represented chaos and deprivation. Since all education is private and costly, illiteracy abounds, as does disease, superstition, vodoo, and poverty. My heart aches for the people of Haiti, and my Irish ire fumes when I hear people say that Haiti deserved this judgment from God. When leaders of Jesus' day tried to trap Him, he told a bit of history about the tower in Siloam. As Luke 13 records it, Jesus faced those who quickly wanted to access blame for a catastrophic event. "Now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. Jesus answered, 'Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish. Of those eighteen who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish.'” Obviously, Jesus' message warned each listener to take inventory of his own soul and not to judge others' circumstances. As always, Jesus' wisdom speaks to every age.

Expediency Over Faith

2010-01-13T13:03:00.000-05:00

I've just finished reading the life of Abraham, as told by Moses in Genesis 12-25. Repeatedly, expediency dictated the patriach's choices. Shortcutting God's promise of an heir, Abraham took Sarah's bad advice to have a son by Hagar, her handmaiden. After all, God had promised to give Abraham descendants as numerous as the stars, and at the tender age of 99, he remained childless. The resulting two offspring, Ishmael and Issac, founded the Arabs and the Jews respectively, two nations that live as enemies to this day On two occasions, with two different kings, Abraham tried to pass Sarah off as his sister instead of his wife. Even though the ruse failed the first time, he used it again. Repeating a sin --something I can surely relate to in my life.

Reading of Abraham's failure to learn brings more than a knowledge of biblical history. When I gear myself up for a quest that has to happen in my time frame, I often run a muck! Whether the issue involves the time to start a family, complete a degree, change jobs, have surgery, or retire, I too often grab control rather than depend on God's sovereignty. According to the dictionary, expediency "usually implies what is immiediately advantageous without regard for ethics or consistent principles." Perhaps I'd do well to look at God's creation this snowy winter and realize that nothing I do changes the rate at which He melts the snow. I may have plans, meetings to attend, doctor's appointments scheduled, but He asks me to simply have faith that He has all things in His sovereign control. Then, instead of manipulating things for the sake of expediency, I can trust that He does all things in His time. Like Abraham, I still have lots to learn.

Nestled in This Winter

2010-01-09T22:21:00.003-05:00

Out for his afternoon walk to the mailbox, Dave took this photo of our log cabin nestled in about three feet of fresh snow. The majesty, soft beauty and frigid temperatures lure Dave outside and keep me inside. The heat generated from the logs in our two gas fireplaces keeps me comfortable. The invigorating winds and natural beauty attract Dave's attention outdoors. Having the two worlds available works for us both! Have you ever thought about where you nestle in or what makes you secure and comforted? I first looked outside when I considered the question. The cardinal in the photo seemed nestled down in this snowy branch too. He posed for several pictures, absolutely unaware of the camera inside the house.

I think that the comfort of nestling comes best when I settle into a steady reading of scripture. The solidity of biblical truths always sustains me despite the current circumstances in my life. And God faithfully shows me things I've missed in other readings. This year I have decided to use the ESV and read three chapters six days of the week and five chapters on Sundays. A cross reference today took me from Genesis to Joshua to establish that Abraham's father worshipped idols. Abraham did not begin his life nestled in a God-fearing home. Yet God called him, and, in faith, Ahram believed God. Why not nestle into the Bible this year and read? No great comfort exists!

More on Music and Rests

2010-01-08T14:13:00.000-05:00

Each January we all probably tackle clutter somewhere --in the house, the mind, the garage. While I edited my Christmas card list on this snowy Friday, I ame across a get well card I'd saved from my summer 2007 surgery. A friend had sought out this quote and copied it into the card. The wisdom of Ruskin's comments again gave me pause. Perhaps you'll take the time to ponder the words and allow the Lord to apply them to your current circumstances.

Quoted by Elisabeth Elliott from John Ruskin:

“There is no music in a rest, but there is the making of music in it. In our whole life-melody, the music is broken off here and there by ‘rests,’ and we foolishly think we have come to the end of time. God sends a time of forced leisure –sickness, disappointed plans, frustrated efforts – and makes a sudden pause in the choral hymn of our lives and we lament that our voices must be silent, and our part missing in the music which ever goes up to the ear of the creator. How does the musician read the rest? See him bet time with unwavering count and catch up the next note true and steady, as if no breaking place had come between. Not without design does God write the music of our lives. But be it ours to learn the time and not be dismayed at the ‘rests.’ They are not to be slurred over, not to be omitted, not to destroy the melody, not to change the keynote. If we look up, God Himself will beat time for us. With the eye on Him, we shall strike the next note full and clear.”

It Wasn't a Silent Night

2010-01-01T11:16:00.001-05:00

On December 23, Little Stuff got the bug of '09 as she, Grandpa and I drove to Augusta; she promptly unloaded her previous meals, snacks and juices all over inside the Jeep. Grandpa managed to find a safe spot to pull off the road, and we began using the paper towels for the mop up operation. I held a shivering, sobbing little girl in my arms as I stripped her down and changed her into warm clothes. Grandpa used layers of towels to make the car seat a decent place to sit because we still had 45 minutes to go on our trip.

Following the domino effect, I got the bug next, and Gran Davenport had it by Christmas afternoon. What do you do when months of expectations for a Georgia family gathering from Massachussetts, Maryland, and Hawaii collide with the flu? Readjust! At various stages of the blah's, we all manage to get to the 5 PM candlelight service and then on to the Japanese restaurant, a family tradition on Christmas Eve. Some of us enjoyed small bites of only white rice that night, but we all were there. We arrived home and saw an empty manger that Gran Davenport had created. The next morning. we all saw this baby doll and talked about Jesus' birthday.

As I thought about feeling lousy as a result of a simple "bug," I considered the fact that Mary probably suffered terribly, crying out as her labor pains came, not in a hospital, but amid the cold night air. A frist delivery in a hostile environment -- no midwife there to bring her aid and comfort. No, it was anything but a silent night where all was calm. It was, however, a labor of love, as the God of the universe became one of us, to live and die for His called children....and that amazing love will always be the hallmark of Christmas.

Family Interactions

2009-12-22T18:22:00.000-05:00

I love to watch our soccer coaching, Sports Center addicted, video game playing son enter the family scene at Christmas. Believe it or not, Uncle Bryan sat down on at child's small chair at Little Stuff's small table, and thoroughly engaged in creating Play Doh constructions with her. Nothing seemed beneath him; the two loved working together on what she considered important. Deference, an old fashioned word, has gone out of fashion, unfortunately. We can graciously defer to another out of duty or delight. Bryan delighted in time spent with his niece. How do I know?

Later the same day, as bedtime closed in on the 2 1/2/ year old, I watched Uncle Bryan crawl into Little Stuff's big girl bed and allow her to bury him in a ton of her favorite stuffed animals. Once ensconced in the animals, he then drew and colored with her until time for prayers, songs, hugs and kisses. Each time he pretended to sleep, he heard a strong voice command, "Uncle Bryan, Uncle Bryan," repeated multiple times. His eyes popped open and she squealed with sheer delight over the game. When the extended family can gather together, not an every year occurence, we like to play and spend time together.

Watching this scenario, I thought about the Lord and the way He condescended to do more than play with us. He came to give His called ones not just time and laughs; He came to sacrifice Himself for them. To miss the Christmas to Easter connection diminishes Christmas and allows it to degenerate into a sweet time of family togetherness and cookie giving to the neighbors and the mailman. Listen to so many of the Christmas specials and you hear the "Be nicer to people," or "Play it forward" mantras. While a display of kindness is a plus at any time, Christmas conveys so much more. Uncle Bryan may sacrifice some time and engage in childish play, but the God of the universe stooped to take on human flesh, live a sinless life, and die in my place. Now that's Christmas, and that's what we celebrate!

Family Heritage

2009-12-21T09:33:00.001-05:00

One of my favorite parts of this Christmas season will be watching the interplay among the three generations that will gather together in Augusta, GA. Oh, yes, 10 adults, two preschoolers and two dogs will create scenes of chaos, but when all the adults know and serve the Lord, there is "joy unspeakable and full of glory," as the apostle Paul writes. Here, Santa Granpa, Brent and our granddaughter share bedtime stories together. The routine that follows in her bedroom involves saying prayers, singing "This Little Light of Mine," and "Mary Had a Little Lamb," and giving hugs and kissess all around. Ask Little Stuff what Christmas is all about and she responds, "It's Jesus' birthday." After that her lights go out, the music of her sea turtle begins and we all slip out of her room.

Years ago, when I studied Isaiah, I chose a verse for our family. “As for me, this is my covenant with them,” says the LORD. “My Spirit, who is on you, and my words that I have put in your mouth will not depart from your mouth, or from the mouths of your children, or from the mouths of their descendants from this time on and forever,' says the LORD." Isaiah 59:21. Whether you have Christians in your genealogy for generations or are a first generation believer yourself, latch onto this verse for 2010 and then share your faith -- by the way you live more than by a penchant to inject a verse into every conversation. Pray that the Lord will call each one in your family to a personal faith in Jesus Christ, a relationship that will change theri life forver.

Fear and Wonder

2009-12-19T19:56:00.001-05:00

"Don't feel hurt, " my daughter-in-law told Dave. "When your granddaughter saw an off-duty Santa at Sam's Club, she was like white on rice hangin' on to my Mom." The two-year-old registered pure terror then, despite the Santa's efforts to engage her in friendly conversation. The blue-eyed toddler stole glances and kept asking her Mommy,"Where he go?" And before the shopping ended, she did say "Merry Christmas" to him. Thus, Dave remained optimistic: after all, this Santa was her Granpa. The red suit, spats, hat and glasses came from a costume company, but the smile, voice and beard would be 100% Granpa. Dave and I arrived in Statesboro on Thursday afternoon, and Granpa tried on the outfit then because he planned to play Santa at two daycares on Friday, one being hers! "Daddy, No, I no like him!" Not exactly a rave review!

Dave loves kids and moved slowly the next day when his granddaughter, frightened and crying, clung to Nanny Scarlet. Smart Granpa talked and then began to play ball with the four toddlers there, winning their trust and then handing out their gifts. As the picture explains, the fear turned to wonder and love.

I think about the shepherds, ones we consider highly favored to have received the sky-shattering birth announcement of the Christ child. "They were sore afraid," says the KJV; the NIV translates that "They were terrified." As I face a righteous God as presented in the law, terror fills me too. Only when He condescends to demonstrate His grace and mercy, does my fear turn to wonder.

Over the Rainbow

2009-12-17T21:57:00.000-05:00

Years ago Judy Garland belted out "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" in the movie version of The Wizard of Oz. What a voice and what an expression of wanting to go where we are not. The longing for what we do not yet possess drives so much of our fallen nature at this time of year. Do I really act like I will find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? Ludicrous, I say, but I can fall into the trap. Have you exercised control as you shopped for gifts in late November, only to reach for the credit cards now and dash into the malls in a spending frenzy? While this doesn't describe me this year, thankfully. it certainly has in years past. The apostle, Paul, writing in Philippians, says, "for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

I often return to the Puritan book The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment by Jeremiah Burroughs. The ideas presented there help balance me, reestablish biblical equilibrium. "A godly heart enjoys much of God in everything he has, and knows how to make up all wants in God Himself." How can something stated so simply carry such deep meaning? It allows for fun (The Puritans have gotten such a bad rep thanks to The Scarlet Letter and The Crucible) in all the good things God provides, and yet teaches us how to meet life's gravest hurts. So my Santa husband can pose next to our pastor's daughter right after the curtain came down on her as Dorothy in Southern High School's production of The Wizard of Oz. Christians can rejoice in Advent without slipping into the excesses that often mar the season. How? By seeing the tender babe in Bethlehem also as the suffering Savior who goes to the cross on our behalf. Connect Christmas and Easter to find the contentment and joy of Christmas.

Strength for the Season

2009-12-10T09:52:00.001-05:00

What if Christmas comes and your world has recently fallen apart? I try to remember that not everyone gets all excited and happy about this season. Illness, financial devastation, job layoffs, or personal disappointments come without regard to the calendar's date. Despite rereading the Christmas story in Luke 2, your "inside your head" world lacks the joy, peace and love spoken of in this passage.

Since King David's life spiraled out of control several times, his psalms often capture the angst of the heart. Reading Psalm 20 and Psalm 25 can provide a larger perspective on life, even in the midst of grave difficulties at this time of year. "May the Lord answer you when you are in distress, may the name of the God of Jacob protect you." This opening verse meets my desire to be heard and protected. I sense that the God of the universe cares for me, knows my circumstances, and can offer me safety. The psalm continues with reminders of who the sovereign God is. By verse 7, the psalmist affirms his hope: "Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God."

Psalm 25 reminds me of God's reigning authority and my sinfulness. I have, when I assess the situation honestly, had a part in virtually any terrible situation. Even if someone has sinned against me, I may now harbor anger, or guilt that is wrong. I need to confess. Beginning with a biblically sound attitude, King David says, "Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long. Remember, O Lord, your grace and mercy and love for they are from of old." Begin by acknowledging who God is and requesting His viewpoint. Add a dose of humility by reciting verse 9: " He guides the humble in what is right and teaches them his way." Finally, the man after God's own heart concludes, "Guard my life and rescue me; let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you. May integrity and uprightness protect me because my hope is in you."

By reading these psalms several times a day, we massage the truths into our system. Remember that the Jews memorized Scripture. Reciting the psalms anchored people when the world around them fell apart. Today we snap up a sound bite and move on. But if the Word is to give birth to changes from the inside of us, ruminating on the words must occur in our minds and hearts throughout the day.

Snow's Serenity

2009-12-09T22:31:00.000-05:00

Snow falls insulate the world, creating a quiet we do not experience at other times. This picture, taken from our front porch around 7 AM Sunday, captures the pristine beauty of the sun coming over our woods. Since the thermometer registered 16 degrees, Dave took the picture. The photo, however, cannot convey the haunting sounds of the wind chimes as the breeze keeps them in almost constant motion. Something about snow slows me down, causes me to listen more carefully. That's probably good since the sermon series currently deals with a biblical look at many psychological tags used in our culture. The series, entitled "Battling Unbelief," has, thus far, looked at the scriptural side of anxiety, pride and shame. Although these are valid emotions, Americans are often too quick to proclaim an "it's-not-my-fault" position without seeking a biblical lens. When did we let psychology access the soul without any consultation with the Great Physician?

Far too long Christians have defined belief as merely a cerebral agreement with facts. Our pastor says that belief is "mainly an appetite in the heart which fastens on Jesus for satisfaction." If we don't fasten on Jesus, we manufacture idols that quickly own us. Our unbelief occurs when we turn away from Jesus to find satisfaction somewhere else or in someone else. In the case of anxiety, I may be my own worst enemy. Have I gotten myself in over my head financially, emotionally, or with commitments outside my home or at the office? Then the cause of my anxiety lies within my grasp to change. Ah, but to lower my anxiety, I may have to admit my shortcomings. That snowballs headlong into my pride. When I can't perform all the things I promised to do, I experience a sense of shame. Can you see why this sermon series has my attention? The root I have to examine is not a psychological one, but rather, an examination that tests the depth of my appetite for God. I often find the fight for humility is the fight of faith. The apostle Paul reminds me to "fight the good fight," so I will continue to use these snowy. blustery days to meditate on battling unbelief: anxiety, pride, and shame.

Welcome to the Neighborhood

2009-12-04T14:17:00.001-05:00

Dave and I spent Thanksgiving in Georgia with family and had the opportunity to see Brent and Becky begin to decorate their home for Christmas. The kids live in a new development where they enjoy their neighbors. A couple across the street has two girls, 4 and 9 months, so the girls formed a friendship as did their parents. On Friday evening our daughter-in-law introduced Little Stuff to a "seasonal member" in their neighbor hood--Mr. Penguin. "Glad to know ya. Mr. Penguin. Merry Christmas," the two-year-old said in greeting. The inflatable, lighted lawn bird really captured the toddler's attention, so much so that she gave him a big hug before coming inside for dinner. Watching Little Stuff, I began thinking about neighbors.

We now build back decks and not front porches. In the suburbs we jump into the car at o'dark hundred, battle the commute, work long hours in cubicles, and often bring work home at night. Once we're through the front door, we close it, hunker down for the night, and repeat the pattern the next day. The weekends overflow with errands, sports, and church. We have neighbors, but "Who is my neighbor?" is not simply a question for Bible times. Jesus told us the two great commandments: to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul and strength, and to love our neighbors as oursleves. We have no problem loving ourselves; we do that on autopilot! But in what ways do I love my neighbor?

We now live on Winding Ridge, a development -- and I use that word lightly -- of about 15 homes. Seven of us live here year round; the others have vacation homes here. At the annual association meeting, we gather together for a shared meal and a business meeting. I actually know more of my neighbors here than I did when I lived near Annapolis. Within the last three weeks, 5 of us have gathered for spur-of-the-moment dinners together. I like that and find it a simple way of getting to know our neighbors. So I find myself thankful for Little Stuff's exuberance over Mr. Penguin because it jostled my thinking.

Perform the Rests

2009-12-03T21:09:00.000-05:00

Any serious musician learns to "perform the rests," as one of my choral directors taught me years ago. As important as paying attention to the dynamic markings, maintaining proper pitch and keeping the tempo are, ignoring the rests mars any performance. And this is performance weekend for the Garrett County Choral Society, so the Christmas music we have prepared this fall will finally have an audience of folks on this second weekend of Advent. The singers have given much attention to the louds and softs, staying on pitch, and not slowing the director's tempo. But will we watch her closely enough to perform the rests? Paying attention to the rests makes the difference between an OK and an excellent concert.

With each passing year, I have a greater sense of performing the rests in the Advent season...and not just musically speaking. Not every Christmas cookie must find its way to the cookie tray; not all the rooms need Christmas decorations; not every card must be mailed by December 20th. The tyranny of the urgent destroys the sense of wonder that surrounds the incarnation. We can crowd in enough activities to merit Martha Stewart's notice, yet miss the essence of the Word made flesh. An evening spent sharing a serendipitious meal with the neighbors, a nap to regenerate my own body, or a Messiah CD and prayer from Valley of Vision can't happen unless I perform the rests during Advent. When the social calendar shows almost every night booked with activities, decorating, cooking, and shopping, the metronome swings with the frantic pace know as the holiday season. A lively tune, the holiday celebrations may hit all the right notes, but I wonder if there would be less January depression if we performed the rests before December 25th. Wishing you a rest-filled Advent.

Music and Advent

2009-12-02T22:32:00.000-05:00

I don't know when I first sang; I only know that singing fills me with joy. And harmonies, especially in the tight chords, give me chills. Music truly communicates in ways that touch the soul. Part of the Christmas concert for the Garrett County Choral Society will include the 1991 song, "Mary, Did You Know?" The deity of Christ leaps from the words of this song, revealing acts in the baby's future that Mary, the teenage girl chosen to bear the Christ child, could never have imagined. Yes, He would one day "walk on water, save our sons and daughters, give sight to the blind, calm a storm with His hand." This Jesus would gain a huge following for the miracles He performed. However, the lyrics then make a play on words that some find offensive. "This Child that you delivered will soon deliver you." Now Jesus steps out! Others may have startled the world with slight of hand miracles, but Jesus' claims far exceed any miracle worker."When you kiss your little baby you have kissed the face of God," and "The sleeping child you're holding is the Great 'I Am!'" I want the truth of these words to seep into every fiber of my being. Why? Because the truth conveyed changes lives from the inside out. Not just a behavioral change, but a heart change that destroys favored idols in me and allows me to bring glory to God.

I've also listened to Michael Card's The Promise today and asked for the Lord to allow me a deeper vision of Christ this Advent season. "As a sign to you, the one born today will be wrapped in rags, asleep on the hay," sings Card. The lowly shepherds got a spectacular birth announcement and sought this babe, but the vast majority in the world slept on that night. In so many ways, our world, desperate to be relevant, universal and non-judgmental, sleeps also. But we who call Him Lord also can miss the mystery of the incarnation. We decoraate, buy, feast, and scurry through Advent, worried that we will not get it all done. Somewhere, everywhere in the bustling activity, we miss the time to prepare ourselves for the amazement of God with us, Immanuel. "If God is with us, who could stand against us?" "There is no height nor depth that can ever separate us from the love of Christ." If that's Christmas ho-hum, I haven't paused to look afresh at marvelous news of Chritmas.

Then tonight a group of women from church gathered here to watch the DVD of Paige Benton Brown talking about what we must tell the next generation. Paige pleads with her listeners to really see all that Christ is-- His power, majesty, and love for us as His called children. I don't need a new idea for a gift, another recipe to dazzle the family, a two-week diet to shed pounds before the feasting begins, or a change in my circumstances. In Jesus, Immanuel, I have everything; without Him, I have nothing. May the star's light of Christmas stop me right over that humble stable so I can fasten my eyes upon the promise named Jesus. I want to hear and sing the music of Christmas with a deeper view of the Child of Promise. May this Advent give us all the time to look at the sleeping baby who is the Son of God.

Cold Dampness and Christmas

2009-11-30T22:46:00.002-05:00

On this final day of November, the darkness outside belies the clock's 4:45 PM time. I've watched snow flurries and rain while I made oatmeal/craisin/white chocolate chip cookies to share with another couple coming tonight for spaghetti dinner. Dave managed to burn the trash and order some Christmas gifts via the internet, but the day appears pretty grim. I miss times of quiet with Little Stuff when we could just watch Veggie Tales together on the couch. Alas, I'm in Maryland and she's in Georgia.

Into this dismal day the background sounds, thanks to Cindy Bauchspies and Michael Card Christmas CDs, propel my spirit right into Advent. A day such as this one takes me to the cold dampness that I associate with the difficulties of the first Christmas. Whatever the weather that first Christmas night, the Christ child entered a hostile environment as He nestled down in a feeding trough. The Creator of the universe entered His world to find anger, hatred, and ultimately, death. No bright lights and tinsel, no blow-up reindeer or holiday buying sprees. Yet, for the likes of you and me, He gave up the splendor of heaven to walk this earth, tempted in all ways as we, and to lay down His life as a ransom for those He would call to faith in Him. I wait in this Advent season, savoring the depth of such a love.

Happy Turkey Day!

2009-11-26T20:56:00.000-05:00

"Thanksgiving Spirit" doesn't have the Madison Avenue ring of "Christmas Spirit," and for that, I am thankful! Yet Thanksgiving Spirit has a warmth that will, hopefully, escape the advertising mogels for years to come. So Happy Turley Day, as Little Stuff's dress proclaims. Count God's blessings all day!

Our son, daughter-in-law, Dave, and I all had a hand in the food today. Austyn Grace's taste buds resonated most with our traditional monkey bread and fruit breakfast, and the pumpkin cake recipe I got from a Pillsbury Bake-Off contest years ago. Considering family favorites, we cook both a turkey and a spiral ham, and make mashed potatoes and a sweet potato casserole. A neighbor on Bearfoot Road had sent something new, a great compote of cranberries, apples and oranges; the girls liked it; the guys passed in favor of stuffing -- no surprises there!

Calls to and from Hawaii and Massachusetts allowed us to extend "thanksgivings" with other family members. Football, some Christmas decorating, as well as coloring, stickers, play-doh, and naps occupied most of our day together here. Meanwhile, the Hawaii branch of The Wolfe's Den enjoyed scuba diving. The thing that resonanted in each activity, each verbal exchange, was a sense of abiding peace coupled with an overwhelming knowledge of God's blessings in our lives. These showcase His grace, not any worthiness of ours. Our children, their spouses, their in-laws -- all know Jesus personally. III John says, "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth." (v.4) No wonder the cornucopia defines Thanksgiving to me!

Early in the month I started to list specific items for which I gave thanks this year... the free gift of a motorized scooter; a loving husband who plans, but really trusts our finances to God in the midst of the economic downturn; God's kindness in having Stacey assigned to Hawaii instead of the expected Okinawa base; the richness of solid reformed preaching from the pastors of both the church in Severna Park and the one in Oakland; the gracious neighbors in both locations; Becky's good health as she carries the baby girl expected April 1st; the joy of travels to spend time with family; the excitement of Brent's first book coming out in December; the pain killers that help me function day to day. My list goes on, but the idea I want to purse this coming year involves thanking God more on a daily basis. Since Thanksgiving hasn't been packaged yet, this could stay our secret for a while. Happy Turkey Day!

Holiday Happiness

2009-11-24T15:44:00.000-05:00

A few days ago Little Stuff and Grandma started to work on a ginbgerbread house as a surprise for Mommy and Daddy when they returned from Florida. This Grandma's idea of fun involved making things instead of hitting the mall with many other holiday shoppers. Given my inability to get around, the vast majority of my shopping happens via the Internet anyway.

Armed with the "everything you will need" gingerbread house, we started what would turned into a three-day project. Thankfully, time doesn't bind retirees or toddlers, so we worked for a while and then stopped, planning to resume another day. Most of my time went into attempting to control Little Stuff's sugar consumption! Sprinkles, red and green peppermint swirls, rainbow-colored dots, frosting, gum drops, and confectionery sugar kept her tasting as we went along. I loved her laughter, her licking my fingers, and the memory making! In this season of giving thanks, I still tell the Lord thank you for the simple things that involve telling the next generation about Jesus by spending time with them inside and outside church.

God-centered or Man-centered?

2009-11-22T15:11:00.000-05:00

While at worship in Statesboro, Georgia this morning, I thought about the way I express thanks at this time of year when we gather around the Thanksgiving table. Most thoughts cast a look back at the people, blessings and lessons of the past year(s). Always a stickler for supporting details instead of mere generalizations, I have added several times this month to a list of specifics in my prayer journal. A sovereign God has allowed family, friends, teachers, choir directors, pastors and neighbors to walk alongside me, and for them, I am thankful. Around the people, God has swirled events and lessons in His work of making me look more and more like Jesus. Yet, the bulk of my thanksgiving centers on the past and on me. But what about giving thanks to God for the present and future?

Each day I need to thank God for His strength in my life, calling upon Him as my great physician and asking Him to superintend my day's activities, my heart, my tongue. I also should remember to thank God that His presence to guide me offers tangible proof of my daily need for direction and His kind willingness to lead. How aware am I of thanking God daily? Do I presume on grace? As the apostle Paul puts it, "May it never, never be." So I will think more of thanking God in the present.

I also want to thank God for the future, captured in the youthfulness of Little Stuff as she stood by the duck pond on Saturday. Only in Jesus Christ can I offer

hope to her and to those God brings into my life this coming year. Whether princes and countries rise or fall, whether the economy rebounds or continues in a slump, whether I know pain or good health, the sovereign Lord holds all peoples and events in His gracious hands. How I thank Him for the assurance of the future.

As we gather to celebrate Thanksgiving this year, I will endeavor to make the day one that focuses more on God than man. How? By casting a concentrated look at things present and future and thanking God for them.

Gingerbread Houses and Scooters

2009-11-21T20:19:00.004-05:00

What possible connection can exist between a gingerbread house and a scooter? This Granma's 2009 list of "Thanksgiving Blessings" includes both! A few weeks ago, Granpa picked up a kit for making a gingerbread house, thinking our granddaughter and I would enjoy constructing this sweet

confection together while her Mommy and Daddy traveled to Miami to visit Uncle Bryan. The first step, gluing the house pieces together with frosting, went slowly, but by giving Little Stuff a taste here and there, the first step came off without a hitch! We add the decorations tomorrow afternoon!

The second blessing, a free scooter that a neighbor on Bearfoot Road gave us, traveled to Gerogia with us and has allowed this Granma such freedom and mobility. A trip to the mailbox means the two of us zip out the driveway with a toot of the horn. We gather the mail from the box, place it in the basket, take a spin around the neighborhood, and come back huddled together. How could this daily task be any more fun?

Well, it's even more fun when the scooter morphs into a chariot for Little Stuff to attend a princess birthday party, with Granma as her driver. Scatter the fairy dust, and a bit of magic emerges for us both. I clasp her hand, head for the garage, place the birthday gift in the basket, and with a toot of the horn, we head off, my heart filled with thankfulness for the simple joys today held: a gingerbread house and a battery-operated scooter! Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

Helping

2009-11-20T20:16:00.001-05:00

In our busyness as a society, we Americans have too often abdicated neighborliness, care, and simple helpfulness to the government. The politicians develop a program, create an entire bureacuracy to oversee the activities, and finally, assign a series of watchdog levels to monitor the bureacrats. The resulting "help" to the intended recipients falls woefully short of the good intentions of those who introduced the bill that started the government ball rolling. How can we make changes? We need to teach the next generation the joy of serving, helping out when the "volunteer" hours are not a graduation requirement or met with pay. What better way to start than with the curly blonde we know as our granddaughter.

When we arrived in Georgia, Grandpa wanted to wash his Jeep, so he showed her how to wash the sides and then rinse. Yes, the job took longer and we all came into the house soaking wet, but the laughter was brighter than even the silver Jeep. "Little Stuff" had helped Granpa adn loved every minute. Why do we stop doing this, I wondered? Somewhere during childhood, we must stop practicing service for fun. Do we resent the time involved in extra laundry? Want the job done in 15 minutes and know that we can accomplish it without the "help" of littler ones? Whatever it is, we have paid a high toll for the time we may have gained here and there. I found it ludicrous when a teacher friend had to arrange the freshmen volunteer hours for all the 9th graders in her homeroom. That's right. She found the activity, set up the times, and had to check back to see who showed up and who did not. For those for failed to appear, the teacher got to arrange another activity. Pleazzzzzze!

This afternoon, while Granpa and I are babysitting for five days, we went to a local park to see the ducks. While there, I saw one or two big pinecones near the place we parked the Jeep. I got the idea of making some autumn wreaths as a surprise for Brent and Becky's return. As Granpa and Little Stuff started off for a walk, Dave asked if I could use more pinecones if he found them. As soon as I smiled and said yes, Dave had an instant helper. Looking at this photo, I know I'm thankful for the opportunity to grandparent!

Don't Miss Thanksgiving

2009-11-13T14:38:00.000-05:00

The Madison Avenue buzz wants Americans to focus on November 27th, two weeks from today, because that's Black Friday. And if we walked through WalMart in Ocotber, we experienced whip lash, seeing Halloween and Christmas items across from each other in the same aisle. What happened to Thanksgiving? Shhhh, let's keep it our little secret lest the moguls of the advertising world start to market "Thank Ye" trees with mini Pilgrims, tiny conucopias, and strings of yellow, orange and green lights. No, except for the food and florist ads, Thanksgiving has not yet fallen to commercialism. And for that I am extremely grateful.

Thanksgiving centers around family traditions, soup kitchens that feed the homeless, gardens' bounties of food and beauty, people stopping to express genuine thankfulness for their blessings. When our sons lived at home, we placed five kernels of corn on their plate one year, talked about the first Thanksgiving, and asked them to name five items of personal thanksgiving. Over the years, the activity morphed into expressions such as, "I'm thankful for my family, friends, house, food, car that runs..." You get the idea. While we did appreciated these things, the reporting sounded somewhat rote and not well thought out. Rarely did someone thank the Lord for the ability to keep praying for someone who was tough to like. We didn't usually thank God for character development when it came slowly and with halting steps.

Busyness posed another problem as I shopped, baked, made a floral arrangement, ironed the good table cloth, and got out the china for this family occasion. I had not given much over-the-entire-month time to replay the year in my mind, to really count my blessings. The truth expressed in Ephesians 5:19-20 advocates continual thanksgiving. "Speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." So this year I grabbed my journal when the specific things came to mind and wrote them down. One blessing has come from my being part of the local garden club's herb committee. They taught me about putting the last of autumn's leaves and home grown lavender into glycerin water to create the free arrangement pictured above. Such a simple joy, an expression of beauty that causes me to reflect on God's creation. I have already listed nearly 30 things now, taking the time to savor each as it has come to mind. As the advertisers flood the mailbox with the November 27th sales, I hope they continue to skip Thanksgiving. It's my favorite holiday and I don't want commercialism to ruin it!

Thanks to our Veterans

2009-11-12T00:22:00.000-05:00

I thanked my husband this morning and wished him a Happy Veteran's Day. He left Buffalo, New York in February 1967, headed to Phan Rang AFB, north of Saigon. When then President Lyndon Johnson sent his new son-in-law there, I sure prayed that LBJ loved Lt. Robb and wanted to see him serve on a relatively safe base. Since Dave's folks lived in Honolulu that year, he flew in from Nam, and I cut a week's worth of college classes and flew in from Buffalo. During that week, Dave asked me to marry him in August 1968, and I said "Yes," He returned to duty in November, and I returned to classes. February loomed closer, and while my excitement grew, Dave's base started to go on nightly alerts. The TET offensive launched the very week Dave was due to come home. The day scheduled for his arrival came; I left Houghton College in the midst of a blizzard and drove to the Buffalo Airport, not knowing if he'd even arrived on that plane. I'd received no confirmation or call regarding the his incoming flight to Washington State. Standing virtually alone at the gate, I watched the passengers disembark and walk across the snow-covered tarmac. A few military personnel emerged, but not my Dave. The horrible scenarios that swirled in my brain consumed me, and I turned to leave. Suddenly he appeared...the very last passenger off the plane. What a fantastic reunion we had, despite the fact that the airport announced its immediate closing and it took us hours of inching along the higway to get back to campus! That happened almost 43 years ago. And yes, we married that next summer as planned. I have always thanked God that Dave arrived home safely after his year's tour of duty.

Attending hometown parades with fire trucks, American flags, patriotic music and retired veterans marching side by side always chokes me up. Let the high school band play the "National Anthem" or "God Bless America" and my tears start. What a privilege to live here in America. When I see a man or woman in uniform at the airport or in the mall, I try to say, "Thanks for serving," but I don't always remember. This year I've seen many stores and restaurants offer some ways of saying thanks. Perhaps we are mourning the tragedy that occurred at Fort Hood. Maybe we know more of the importance of our military. I hope so. You see, Dave came home to the jeers of war protesters. He and those who served in Nam received very little thanks. The Nam vets heard far too many snide remarks about their lack of savvy. What hadn't they gone to Canada? People considered the Nam veterans stupid for serving in an immoral war.

It took Dave several years before he could visit the poignantly austere Viet Nam Memorial in DC. I still can't go there without experiencing a real emotional drain. The sacrifices made by those men and women met with ingratitude from protestors who had the right to protest only because of the military's protection of the rights guaranteed to all in the US Constitution. So I salute the men and women who have served and who currently serve; their sacrifice allows us to enjoy our freedom. I hope we remember throughout the year and not just on Veteran's Day.

The Difference Between Do and Done

2009-11-10T20:03:00.048-05:00

For years I lived by the "to do" list. Almost every night before I went to bed, I wrote a 4 X 6 card with the things to be accomplished the next day. Theoretically, I then fell asleep, having cleared my mind of responsibilities by having them written on my card.
However, many nights I lay with open eyes mentally adding things until I got up and added another card or started with a fresh card detailing the new "others" on the list.

Many years ago my Mom told our Bible study that we girls expected too much of ourselves. She told us we went to bed discouraged because we had only crossed 15 items off our 23-item list. Had we not done 15 things? Where did we lose sight of the accomplishments? In her day Monday was wash DAY -- all day. Sorting heralded the start of the process. Clothes went into the wringer washer, then to the extractor, then out on the clothesline (think New York State winters!). When dried, or frozen, the clothes came into the house, went on radiators if thawing was required, and were folded and put away. Since no one then owned the amount of clothing we do now, the wash day completion was imperative. Even with Mom's pep talk, I spent years living by the legalism of the "to do" list.

At the end of our first year of retirement and my year anniversary of making no "to do" lists, I love the grace of life lived without legalism. This past Sunday Dave and I took a "car hike" after lunch. I asked Dave to stop the Jeep as we crossed a tiny tributary of Bear Creek when the sunlight and water caught my attention. I got out and a branch caught a shaft of sunlight and dazzled in front of my lens. We had just visited a local artist's fused glass studio, bought one of her pieces as a Christmas gift, and enjoyed the beauty and serenity of her yard. Sunday afternoon beckoned us to revel in God's creation -- and no "to do" list for Monday hung over my head. Such freedom!
Yesterday, after cleaning, dusting and completing the window washing, Dave and I opted for a mid-afternoon DVD after a soak in the hot tub.

I thought of the parallels between life in the fast lane and retirement pacing as they compare to one's faith. So many religions relate security of the next life and comfort in this world to performance. Follow such a religion and the "to do" list hangs precariously over my head. Do a prescribed prayer, sacrifice, duty, etc. and I will please the chosen deity. Living by grace in all that Jesus accomplished on my behalf means He accepts me as His child. That doesn't mean license (St. Augustine said, "Love God and do as you please.") but it means living and serving out of gratitude and not obligation. The Gospel offers relationship and not religion. As my pastor said on Sunday, "Legalism says 'do'; the Gospel says 'done.'"

Homemade Memories

2009-11-06T11:30:00.000-05:00

Happy Halloween from the Georgia Wolfes straight to Granma and Grampa's hearts. Although we couln't go around the neighborhood with our granddaughter, we vicariously took the trip via photos. We have thankful hearts for her patient Daddy who did the cutting on the jack-o-lantern but engaged his daughter with the seeds, and for her Mommy who brought infectious giggles to the festivities. Her Georgia grandparents joined in the fun, carrying coffee as Little Stuff sought sweeter goodies for her bag. I reran my mental camera to the days when Dave carved while Brent and Bryan decided how the teeth should look on the jack-o-lantern that year. I remember, too, the Oscar the Grouch costume Dave and I constructed; green fun fur for the head, fuzzy green pjs that we had, and a tinfoil covered trash can that had straps over the shoulder that held it in place. Happy memories!

Families solidify a society, and simple traditions strengthen family ties. Despite trendy phrases about villages that raise a child or the importance of community, Scripture talks most about family. Only in Judges does Deborah use the word village. God brings Israel into being with a call to Abram and promises to bless him through his family. Later, Rahab and her family, escape the destruction of Jericho, and she enters the lineage of Christ. Still later, the New Testament refers to believers as the family of God. The psalmist offers this: "A father to the fatherless, defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing..."

The family traditions at your house at the end of October may include mums and corn stalk decorations, Reformation Day celebrations, face painting, pumpkin carvings, and silly costumes, or a myriad of fun activities. I hope you took the time to stockpile these memories; you'll draw strength from them in the future.

The Creek, the Seasons, the Lord

2009-11-04T10:58:00.000-05:00

In the midst of God's creation out here in Accident, Maryland, stand the markers of change. I wrote earlier about Bear Creek's movement as it relates to our children. Next, the movement of autumn to winter caught my eye as the trees literally looked stripped of their leaves in a matter of days. This transformation coincided with Dave's Mom's move to a small nursing facility. Just this morning, emails arrived asking me to pray for people facing health issues, and for a pregnant woman who lost her baby seven months into her pregnancy. No certainties support us. Companies who promised retirement pensions default; the stock market fluctuates violently; our health status changes with one visit to a doctor. Where do we turn? What gives stability in the midst of living real life in a broken world? We yearn for stability that also reflects reality. To whom do we cling?

Moses, no stranger to tragedy, triumph, and unsettledness, wrote Psalm 90. In it he discovers rock solid stability, something we do not personally produce in this world. "Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were born, or you brought forth the earth, and the world, from everlasting to everlasting, you are God." Our aim then settles into a daily prayer as we live in the midst of transitions: "Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom...May your deeds be shown to your servants, your splendor to their children. May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us -- yes, establish the work of our hands." Next, Psalm 91 affirms that the Lord alone must root us in all changes. "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust." As we cling to Him, we "find rest for our souls" as the psalmist puts it, or that "the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus," as Paul wirtes in Philippians. And these promises stand whether the creek moves on or the seasons transfer power and beauty for barren limbs.

Transitions

2009-11-03T22:25:00.000-05:00

Yesterday Dave's 93-year-old Mom moved to a nursing home, a house actually, that accommodates five residents. Mom has lived with Dave's oldest brother and his wife for more than four years now, and her physical needs have continued to increase. So Mom, an avid New York Yankees' fan, watched her large flat screen TV, the one with the extended baseball package that allows her to watch hundreds of baseball games, move to her new room.

Transitions happen throughout our lives here "under the sun," as Solomon wrote. I took two pictures from the back porch about ten days apart. Here nature mirrors the rapid transition from the glorious colors of autumn to the bare trees that await the first snows. the family knew this time of change for Mom would come, so we have prayed for Mom's transition to her new surroundings. After having visited two other larger facilities earlier this year, we thought we'd found a good placement, but when our sister-in-law and niece found this house, the size seemed to fit Mom better than any other facility. With hearing and vision loss that couple with a shy, private personality, Mom's needs just don't center around bingo, dancing, and other group activities. Still, change affects us all --Mom and her family. Thankfully, the Houston Wolfes live only minutes from Mom and will visit frequently.The five-year-old twin great granddaughters will liven up Mom's new residence on their after-school visits.

I thought about Ecclesiastes where the Preacher reminds us that all transitions, including the trying of everything -- meaningful work, wisdom, folly, pleasures, wine, women, money --all represent a chasing after the wind. Only in the final chapter does the author give a meaning to life. "Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man." Our family finds comfort in Mom's life and new surroundings; we also pray she can process this latest transition. She did "remember [her] Creator in the days of [her] youth"; I simply want to know more of the faith and wisdom that have sustained her over the years. That way I can move more graciously through the transitions God has planned for my life.

Cars, the Continuing Saga

2009-10-31T23:23:00.000-04:00

Dave and I left here on Thursday morning in the rental car, headed back to Frederick to get our now repaired 1997 Sable. The "nothing wrong" pronounced by the garage in Severna Park on Monday turned out to be an alternator and battery cable, something relatively cheap to repair. In "car speak," that translates to anything under $1000. However, we had dropped our 1999 Jeep off with a local mechanic here in Western Maryland before we ever headed east. Great week for vehicles!

We made the exchange of rental car for the Silver Sable Steed and drove on to Annapolis and a delightful evening with friends. Thursday evening Dave heard from our mechanic out here. Dave and I had both experienced a unique sound emanating from the Jeep when we drove up steep hills on the Interstate. The mechanic could not duplicate the loud "thunking" sound in his shop. He made a suggestion about tires, but beyond that, he had no answers for us. He however, did not charge us anything because he did not find a clear problem that he could fix. Oh that the shop down east had the same policy!

Hmmmm. What to do next? On Friday Dave and I camped out with other family members as we waited together on the second floor lounge of Anne Arundel Medical Center. Thankfully, the surgery went well, and we had several hours' input from my brother and four nephews about, you guessed, it, CARS! Thanks to their input, earlier discussions Dave and I had, and the Internet, Dave had tons of information. We inched ever closer toward buying another car as my husband surfed the Web for low mileage Jeeps. Did we mention that the 1999 Jeep has 223,000 miles? Dave would find a potential vehicle, email the individual or auto salesperson, search for Car Fax, seek values given the options on each Jeep, and chat about it with me. The other five men own cars, trucks, SUVs, and motorcycles. I heard more about 4-wheel drive versus all-wheel drive than I'll ever need to know!

The good news? The Silver Bullet, AKA, the 1997 Sable, took us into the Shenandoah Mountains and home to Western Maryland without so much as a hiccup. However, a stop in Virginia resulted in the purchase of a 2005 Jeep with only 13,000 miles on it and a boat load of amenities! Sometime early next week Dave and I will return to Virginia and drive the "new" Jeep home. About the car name? I always name cars. The Sable drops down to the Silver Slug and the Jeep inherits the title the Silver Bullet.

Cars!

2009-10-27T21:04:00.001-04:00

For years I have felt that heaven would not have cars. After all, they have caused me many tears, and Scripture promises no tears in heaven. However, in this world, God uses vehicles to teach patience, trust, and stewardship. Somehow, the Lord figured I needed a refresher course this week.

I pulled out of our driveway in the 1997 Mercury Sable at 8 AM on Monday, bound for the homeschooling tutorial that meets in Severna Park. I planned to teach an 11:30 class about stewardship of abilities as it relates to post-high school career plans. With a 30-minute cushion and all materials in tow, I headed east bound. About an hour into the trip, I noticed that the battery light winked at me for a few seconds. Hmmm? What did that mean? Off went the heat, the radio, the headlights. Hi O Silver, away! The Silver Bullet Sable responded; off went the light. On with the cruise control and the rest of the trip.

Later, just outside Frederick, the RPM needle suddenly points to zero, but I'm still traveling at 60 MPH. WHAT is this? A little adventure ensues as I maneuver a couple of miles driving on the shoulder of the road at 40 MPH, but then my trusty steed gallops off at 65, keeping up with the rest of the horse power on I 70. Meanwhile, Dave's making cell calls; a friend meets me at the garage where I leave the lame car, and the friend drives me to class; another friend takes me from class to her home for lunch. By 5:30, she has graciously invited me to spend the night and head back in the morning with the silver bullet, which, by the way, has been pronounced "Fine, Can't find anything wrong!" The labor cost for the "non-repair" of my car is $95.00, but the old car has a clean bill of health.

My trusty steed turns over fine at 9 this morning, and I fill her tank with gas before turning west. I fill my lungs and begin to sing everything from praise choruses to Bach's Cantata 140 -- in German! Alas, in Frederick (What is it with this town?) the RPM needle nosedives, and the speedometer needle follows. Coasting to the side of the Interstate, all systems stop. Instead of singing, I'm on my dying cell phone with Dave, roadside assistance, Dave, roadside assistance, Dave....you get the idea.

Within 50 minutes the sad steed sits quietly atop the Jerr-Dan, and I have miraculously managed to climb (think Everest here!) into the cab of the truck. Within a few minutes I arrive at the repair shop Dave has located and checked out on the Internet. Next an employee from a car rental place close by picks me up and takes me to my next stop. A few more calls to Dave, insurance company, Dave... Deja-vue. I've seen this pattern earlier today. After a few "sign here, initial here," repeats, I hold the key to a little Hyundai. "Sorry, m'am. This is the only car we have available." Somewhere in the befuddled recesses of my mind, echos "Mountains! I live in the mountains of Western Maryland, and this little pony can really get me home?"

However, miniature horse, lean and light, did hoof it over the mountains, and I arrived home shortly after 2:30. My thanks rose as I realized the protection the Lord had given me. We will now get another lesson in trust and stewardship as we face the repair bill (alternator and battery cell) and pray for wisdom about replacing the 12-year-old Sable. I learned yet another lesson in patience from the experience, and more patience will be needed as we process the possible car-buying issue.

My husband, not wanting me to have had a completely bad day, had a surprise waiting for me when I got home. He had washed all the windows here at the cabin! Washed windows? What a man!

The Creek Keeps Moving

2009-10-25T23:02:00.003-04:00

Living very close to Bear Creek provides a reminder about life. The water flows hard after the rains we've experienced this weekend. Yet, even without the heavy rains, the water keeps moving. It might be a mere trickle, but the creek meanders or gushes all the time. Life mirrors the creek.
Some hard times during my life passed at flash flood speed, and I give thanks for that. Other difficulties reflected a season of drought, a time when the water inched its way along. Small rivulets formed; the water seemed to stop or simply move at a snail's pace. Small progress came, but almost imperceptibly. Lacking patience, I wanted the creek of pain to crest and then move out of my life quickly. Bring on the meandering good times and let me float on the lazy river in my inner tube. Sadly, the ability to freeze the good times does not work; even in the dead of winter, the creek's water flows under the ice. And who wants to smell a slimed-over pond in summer? Parents who try to hold a particular time in a child's life only stagnate the water.

A look at the current culture for children and teens finds two extremes to avoid: the creek that flows at a dangerously fast pace, setting up a deluge that can lead to tragedy and the creek that someone wants to dam up and stop.

The world of consumerism calls out with the siren song of the fast flowing waters. Grow up as a rushing current, gain all manner of sensual pleasures early, shop at Victoria Secret, hang out at the mall. Consider just the logo choices available on a T-shirt found at Old Navy or Wal-Mart. Hottie, Born to Shop, Slave, and similar words identify females. Disney, L.L.Bean, Abercromie and others get free advertising by slathering their names across even a simple shirt. And what ever happened to a cotton T, one without Lycra or spandex? The world of entertainment also has a flood ready to drown youngsters. Many conscientious parents would never let their kids see an R rated movie. Good, But what's openly shown in an R flows rampantly along in a PG-13. Another torrent involves what girls and guys hear and read. Crude, rude and violent come down the creek, each carrying debris that fouls the water. People often quote Proverbs 4 but stop too soon. "Guard your heart for it is the wellspring of life," says verse 23. The following verses warn the reader to watch what they say, what they look at , and where they go. A wise parent chews on the ideas in the text and discusses the applications with the children in the family.

If the torrential rains of the 21st century spell disaster, why not dam up the waters? Stagnation does not produce healthy adults any more than the swirling eddies that accompany racing waters. To remain almost immobile in a pool of pity, anger or depression benefits no one. Hanging on to good things such as childhood triumphs, beauty, or intellect develops a smelly body of water not even fit for the fish that park rangers use to stock the creek. Pampered children often develop into adults who can't function in a world where they are no longer the princess or king of the mountain. A child cut from a team, musical ensemble or drama production can bring out both the parents who want to make sure their child's creek flows swiftly or those who do want the child to tread water right here forever. The apostle Paul addresses this scenario in I Corinthians. There he reminds us that he thought, talked, and reasoned as a child when he was a child, but put away childish ways when he became a man.

So act wisely as your children pass through the creek waters. In the Egyptians' rush to kill the fleeing Israelites, Pharoah's army "sank like lead in the mighty waters." Later in Israel's history the prophet Isaiah warned, "the waters will fail from the sea, and the river will be wasted and dried up." For parents to navigate the childhood and adolescent years, Proverbs 18 offers this aphorism for meditation: "The wellspring of wisdom is a flowing brook."

Faithfulness, Flowers and Forgiveness

2009-10-22T13:16:00.015-04:00

My dear husband of 41 years demonstrates love to me all the time. Whether he remembers to charge the battery on my scooter, brings me a fresh cup of coffee in the morning, or plants the flowers I buy or receive free from my great next door neighbor, Dave never enjoyed outdoor yard work, and Garrett County features a huge rock collection in it soil. So as he patiently planted mountain lilies, stargazer lilies and replete daffodils on Tuesday, his faithfulness came shining through again. Coming home from our trip to the Flight 93 Memorial, on Wednesday, we stopped at Baker's Nursery and the man even let me buy another mum, a huge burgundy beauty in a 9-inch pot. He did that, even while knowing I couldn't dig the hole, plant the mum, cover with soil or mulch the site afterward. He illustrates amazing love and demonstrates his faithfulness to me! I often hear about the difficult adjustment to retirement, and perhaps a year is too short a time to make any pronouncement. But I can make an observation.

As humans we will disappoint each other, often not intentionally, but we do it just the same. Our expectations, especially in marriage, go toward perfection: a Sir Galahad as a husband, or a current Hollywood starlet as a wife. The only one faithful one hundred percent, no offense to Dr. Seuss' Horton, is God. We all live like Mayzie part of the time, doing as we please and leaving someone else maintaining our responsibilities. A retired couple lives around each other more now than at any other time in their marriage. Discovering activities to do both together and apart helps develop a new richness in each individual. The mistake lies in expecting every need to be met by the other person. In Hosea God says, "I will betroth you to me in faithfulness, and you shall know the Lord. Only God can meet all our needs. After all, Psalm 36 teaches that only God's faithfulness that reaches to the clouds.

Eighteen Minutes from D.C.

2009-10-21T16:04:00.011-04:00

When the volunteer ambassador told us that this Pennsylvania ridge stands only 18 minutes by air from Washington, DC, I again marveled at the devotion that cost the lives of those on Flight 93 and spared the Capitol while Congress was in session. The last 30 minutes these 40 heroes lived must have been horror-filled moments, time when no one would have blamed them for self-absorption. But some of the men devised a plan, led by Todd Beamer's now famous war cry, "Let's roll!" A lesser known story involves a flight attendant's phone call asking her mother's advice. Even if some passengers could gain entrance to the cockpit, the terrorists had knives while the crew possessed no weapons. Her attendant's mother suggested boiling water to throw on the terrorists. Americans facing death showed such valor, heroism, and selflessness. These characteristics deserve our thanks and esteem. We need to remember these civilians who fought so bravely.
The United States plans a three-phase memorial near the crash site and will buy 2200 acres for that purpose. But to embed in head and heart what happened here, we wanted to see this hallowed ground in its stark simplicity, wind whistling over our heads. Walking slowly around the area, we read the names on the benches, the sentiments written in granite as well as in pencil; we gazed at the firemen's and police officers' helmets. Mementos left here come down regularly, receiving cleaning and storage for future placement in the memorial. To date over 34,000 items have been left.

Inside the adjacent shelter, we read the transcript from the flight recorder and shuddered at the horror of the conceived plan that, thankfully, was not completed that day. New York City and DC had already sustained such tragedy. Then we lifted our eyes to the flag flying in the distance, the flag that marks the actual spot the Boeing 757 slammed 40 feet into the ground. Since survivors consider that place a cemetery, the general public does not have access to the area. Today's crowds revealed a predominance of retirees, Yet, we hope that students and families with young children will also visit here. The Parks service hopes to break ground for the memorial November 1, and complete phase one by the tenth anniversary in 2011.

Turning to leave, we know we have stood on hallowed ground today. One memorial stone summed up my thoughts as we drove away on this clear fall day, an October 21 that resembled the weather of a September day eight years ago. "For our heroes of 9-11-01: Never forget them lest we be attacked again."

Monday Meditation

2009-10-19T09:36:00.010-04:00

Patches of sunlight sent me looking for my camera this morning despite the 32-degree reading on the thermometer at 10 AM. It didn't take a meteorologist to describe today as "crisp and clear." What appears as fog or mist in the photo at the right is actually a flooding of sunlight into our side yard. Sometimes the truths of God's Word, His promises, and His love totally embrace me. Other times, in my rebellious soul, I turn the other way, clutching to false idols of my heart's making. When I cannot see clearly, I can learn to trust the Sonlight that shines with grace and mercy. Unfortunately, my learning curve lags lethargically.

I live a battle of the will to walk by faith and not by sight. Yesterday I had no schedule for arriving back here from Severna Park, but I still battled within myself about making a stop in Mt. Airy to Lorien Nursing Center, just minutes off Interstate 70. A friend resides there, languishing in the last stages of MS. Would I stop or not? At the last minute, and probably aided by the fact that I was in the right lane, I pulled off and went inside for a short visit. As I approached the parking lot, I immediately remembered that the handicapped parking put me at the opposite end of the facility. I would walk right, enter the building, and then walk left through a long hallway to Barbara's room.

Why the stalling? What troubled me? Didn't I appreciate all the folks who have visited me and aided in my recoveries? How different would Barbara be now? Once signed in, I navigated my way along and greeted those I met. My brief visit lifted my spirits as Barbara smiled and mouthed thank you.

Today, in retrospect, I wish my motives had clarity of purpose. The questions I posed yesterday offer a very shallow, self-centered perspective. Barbara's current status now sends me to the Lord, asking for His call home to come to my friend soon. Yet I ponder my need to trust Christ more, knowing that even when my view looks blurred, it's only because of His brilliant sunshine streaming into life's real situations.

Sage Wisdom

2009-10-14T10:28:00.007-04:00

Since 2009 marks the 500th anniversary of John Calvin's birth, writers will reference, rediscover and reinvent (After all, we do live in the age of deconstructionism) this sage. Those writers, professors, and theologians with negative bias or misinformation will dismiss Calvin as the stern proponent of predestination. They consider him graceless, interested only in writing his Institutes, not very practical. Yet such a depiction fails to capture the real legacy Calvin left this world. One Reformed Theology website refers to Calvin as the one who “literally transformed the philosophical, political, religious, and social landscape of Europe." What backs so global a statement?

Intellectually, Calvin, a French-born Roman Catholic completed law studies by age 23, and had published a translation of a book by Seneca. University education grounded Calvin in Northern European Humanism of the early 1500s; however, Calvin soon threw in his lot with reformers who followed Zwingli’s basic idea of the literal reading of Scripture. Given the philosophical and political intelligence of Calvin¸ this scholar set out to write an orderly presentation of Scripture. Best known for The Institutes of the Christian Church and a catechism that, once memorized, would provide a sure compass for children and adults, Calvin initially frightened Genevans. Had they traded the rigidity of the Roman church for another papal system? By 1538, Geneva sent Calvin packing. He established a ministry to French refugees in Strasbourg but returned to Geneva in 1541 and lived there until his death in 1564.

Calvin wanted literacy to spread far beyond the aristocracy and professionals. After all, reading the Scriptures was a vital part of the reforms. Here, I confess an error I’ve held for years. I believed that Robert Raikes founded the modern Sunday School concept by taking the illiterate children off London’s streets on Sunday afternoons and teaching them to read using Bibles as his textbooks. Actually, Calvin, 300 years prior, held Sunday afternoon classes to teach the catechism to children. Ronald Wallace, in his biography, Calvin, Geneva, and the Reformation, says, “It is not surprising that when the citizens of Geneva accepted the Reformed faith, they also at the same time agreed to make with the education of the young.”

I appreciate Calvin’s holistic approach to faith. From New Testament texts he wrote Ecclesiastical Ordinances, setting forth attributes for teachers, pastors, elder and deacons. Church government had boundaries with disciplining occurring in line with Matthew 18. Calvin educated, taught refugees, led in church reform, wrote without stooping to vernacular (the texting of hi8s day?) always aiming to elevate the people so they could study the Scriptures for themselves. What a legacy to us today.

After having written about Calvin, I am set to order John Calvin:A Pilgrim’s Life by Herman J. Selderhuis (IVP, 2009) and enjoy some rainy days like this one reading what Frank James III describes as “simply one of the best biographies of Calvin I have seen.”

To those who still consider Calvin cold, graceless and impractical, I’d offer this quote:

“We have given the first place to doctrine in which our religion is contained, since our salvation begins with it. But it must enter our heart and pass into our daily living and so transform us into itself that it may not be unfruitful for us.”

Friendships

2009-10-13T22:02:00.004-04:00

William James said, "Wherever you are, it is your friends who make your world."

Yesterday this quote arrived in an email from a friend I first met in my home church in New York over 50 years ago. The quote then took flight as I GPSed my way to an 1880 farmhouse on Buffalo Run Road in Friendsville and received a free concert black skirt. Before I left, I also received two squash and a pumpkin, complete with directions for cooking/baking each. Next, a phone call came from three couples, friends from the Annapolis area who "happened" to be driving through Accident (Who drives accidentally through Accident?). They asked, "Could we have lunch together"? Any other day, yes, of course, but we already had lunch plans with friends whom we've known since our 1980s Bible study. The Drakes timed their trip home to Shreeve, Ohio such that we could enjoy a three-hour lunch together. Relaxing at home later that evening, I received a prayer chain phone call from our pastor's wife reminding me to pray for a new friend having surgery today.

In 41 years of marriage we have lived in nine different apartments/houses and moved, if memory serves me right, 14 times. I can testify to the truth of James' quote. Friends have made our world, whether they moved our furniture, babysat for our boys, helped Dave put on a roof, or took care of me after surgery. Faces, as well as stories, fill my mind when I think through the people God has sprinkled throughout our lives. Finally, I drifted off to sleep next to the one who has proven his love and friendship to me since the 1960s. I taught American literature for years and smiled about this remembered quote: "To have a good friend is one of the greatest delights of life." Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Autumn Glory

2009-10-11T15:46:00.003-04:00

Garrett County celebrates Autumn Glory the second weekend of October. This year marked the 42nd annual festival. While craft shows, parades, state fiddle championships, quilt shows, turkey dinners and pumpkin races in the white water facilities dominate the weekend, God paints the true beauty.

I think of autumn metaphorically in terms of being wrapped up in down comforter, experiencing a delightful cocoon. Though insulated in warmth, all the senses explode! This season offers the spectacular colors of leaves and mums, chilly morning air, hot chai lattes, my favorite pumpkin cake recipe, the warmth of the gas fireplace, the distinctive crunch of a Granny Smith apple, and the Choral Society's practice of Christmas music.

I love seeing new things in my more leisurely days of retirement. So although I have seen myriads of brown oak leaves, the red ones over on Turkey Run Road got my attention. Dave stopped the car and took the photo above. I captured the more traditional mums, pumpkins, and hay along side of the last of summer's perennials. Both speak to my love of autumn and drw my heart to the Creator.

Psalm 9 says,
"I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart;
I will tell of all your wonders.
I will be glad and rejoice in you;
I will sing praise to your name, O Most High."

Law of Flesh -- Law of Spirit

2009-10-08T15:24:00.005-04:00

Currently, a group of women from Grace Reformed Church is studying Paul's letter to the churches in Galatia. Poised in Galatians 4 and 5, I keep thinking my way through the legalism that so easily trips me up. The Pharisees tried diligently to keep the law in the strictest ways. Yet, when they gave 39 lashes instead of the 40 legally prescribed, they actually acknowledged their inability to keep the law flawlessly. Whenever I consider the law of the flesh, I look at things that aren't hard for me to do. Then I mentally chastise others who can't keep my self-made laws while excusing myself from areas of my failure. No wonder I find no rest in trying to be legalistic. One minute I can soar on clouds of arrogant superiority and then quickly crash in the ashes of inferiority! What a mess I am when huddled in the mire of trying to keep laws. By that I don't just mean the Ten Commandments. People who do not prescribe to that biblical code do verbally or tacitly choose some self-imposed standard; any shred of honesty will quickly testify to the fact that we can't keep our own standards.
If we step aside and look at the law of the spirit we find two facts: it's even harder to keep than jot and tittle record keeping, and it's been accomplished for us with perfection.
The spirit of law literally goes to the heart of the matter. Now, not only do my acts condemn me; but my attitudes and thoughts also confirm my guilt. Don't commit adultery really means don't even look at a woman with lust in the mind and heart. Who could ever keep such a standard? Martin Luther tried physical pain as he crawled step by step on his knees while he prayed. No relief or eased conscience followed these acts of contrition and penance. However, the perfect law keeper entered this world and, in my place, met the requirements of the law. Unbelievably, He chose to impute His perfection to me. No wonder Issac Watts wrote about amazing grace! Consider Paul's words from Galatians 4:4-6. "God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under law, to redeem those under law, that we might receive the full rights of sons. Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba, Father.'" I'll keep processing the truths of grace as Paul lays them out in Galatians, for I have much to learn before I sleep, much to learn before I sleep.

Written in the Sky

2009-10-07T15:40:00.003-04:00

Psalm 19 breathes with wonders that my camera cannot begin to capture. The sheer enormity of the skies boggles my finite mind.

Needless to say, terms like sovereignty and providence bounce around in my head, so I relish the Scriptures and other writers who have grappled with these big ideas. Jerry Bridges writes "I define God's providence as 'His constant care for and absolute rule over all His creation for His own glory and the good of His people.'" So I breathe these ideas into a prayer for a family who said an earthly goodbye today to Faye Parkinson. This afternoon they believe, in the midst of their grief, another Bridges' thought: "God, in His love, always wills what is best for us. In His wisdom He always knows what is best, and in His sovereignty, He has the power to bring it about." The Psalmist proclaims.

The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of His hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language

where their voice is not heard.

When death comes to a loved one, Paul writes "but we do not grieve as those who have no hope." How do we finite creatures gain a bit of heavenly perspective as we grieve? Always practical, Bridges says this: "We must see our circumstances through God's love instead of, as we are prone to do, seeing God's love through our circumstances. I rejoice in Faye's safe arrival home and in her family's eternal perspective.

Springs Folk Festival

2009-10-06T16:15:00.019-04:00

Dave and I faithfully attend the Springs Folks Festival in Springs, PA each year.
Always the first full weekend in October, this celebration boasts excellent crafts, demonstrations and food. Patiently pushing my wheelchair, my dear husband takes us to Bread from the Hearth where the fresh-baked bread comes slathered generously with butter and/or apple butter. The crusty outside crunches just prior to the squishy warmth exploding on the taste buds. OK, so that's breakfast. Amazing isn't it? Just producing, preserving and cooking food occupied so many hours for a family. Sausage went into the smoke house; tapped maple trees yielded syrup that had to boil for hours.The entire family pitched in to insure enough food occupied the larder to get them through the winter.

After scanning the food exhibits, we headed to the trail, definitely not terrain for a wheelchair. At times, Dave turned me backwards and tipped my heels to the sky so we could make progress. We watched men guide shingles through a saw one at a time, while another man wielded an axe to create split rail fences, a few inches at a time. Native Americans stood at a smoke-filled wigwam, reminding me of the primitive homes people lived in during the harsh winters and humid summers. That led my thoughts to clothing. We buy off racks; settlers started with flax, made linen and then stitched quilts and clothes by hand. Quilts took months but when winter came, people appreciated the layers of quilts

When time allowed for fun, out came
the fiddles, banjos and guitars. Soon Appalachian Clogging kept up with the beat of the music. Add to that the haunting sounds of the hammer dulcimer, and you can hear the pulse of the woods that calms the heart and draws it toward the Maker of all. This weekend you can find us at the Maryland State Fiddle Championship, just soaking in the culture the surrounds our ridge.

Lungs, Technique and Lyrics

2009-10-05T09:08:00.005-04:00

Singing has always energized me. As I remember, Martha Kump, a Sunday School teacher, had a group of elementary school children in her living room back in the 50s. There she joyously threw open her arms and encouraged us to bounce the tones off the back of the room. She smiled as she sang, and her pleasure became mine. As a 12-year-old, I joined the junior choir at my home church in New York. Before you think NYC, let me assure you that the tiny hamlet of Otisville sits nestled at the foothills of the Catskill Mountains in a most unassuming way. Nevertheless, a new pastor's wife arrived in town and decided to start a junior choir; immediately, I wanted to sing. Lois taught us to project our little voices and to sing harmony. When the rehearsals ended late Friday afternoon, she drove each of us home, no small task since the rural area encompassed miles! Somehow, between 12 and 18, while Lois patiently led the junior choir, I filled my heart as well as lungs with song. Worship, using words that honored the Lord and melodies that sang themselves into my soul, gave me great joy. The sheer wonder of creating music infused me with strength.
As a college student, I sang with the oratorio society, a group comprised of students, faculty, staff and townspeople. Because the organ majors practiced in the chapel until late, the oratorio rehearsed from 9-11 PM. Yet when I finished singing, I often returned to my dorm and energetically tackled three hours of studying. After college I sang with church choirs and experienced the same burst of energy and fullness of joy at the end of rehearsals and concerts. When the Washington Chamber Players and Singers performed Bach's St. Matthew's Passion, with Jerome Hines singing the part of Jesus, I sang through tears at each performance. Why? One of the centurions on crucifixion duty at the cross looks up toward the dying Christ and sings, "Truly this was the Son of God, the Son of God." Powerful words, plaintive melody, and such anguished understanding.
Currently I sing with the Garrett County Choral Society. Previously I sang with the Arundel Vocal Arts Society, but I have not done any serious singing in about three years. Thankfully, Cindy Bauchspies trained me well. Nevertheless, I find myself practicing daily to regain the soprano range I once had, and to learn the German for Bach's Cantata 140. Rehearsals take place in Oakland, a 40-minute drive from the cabin, and last from 6:30-9:00 PM each Sunday. I still feel the same joy and energy, but last night, on the way to rehearsal, I talked on the cell phone to my two-year-old granddaughter and her Daddy. Brent tells me that Austyn Grace has a new fascination. When she hears the choir at church, she stops in her tracks, determined to hear and watch them. That reminded me of the serendipitious photo I took in August. Hmmmm, her Papa Davenport and Grandma Wolfe may have the makings of a trio!

Good Neighbors

2009-10-01T15:44:00.007-04:00

Married in 1968, we lived in six different places during the first 12 years of our marriage. When we moved into our first single-family house in 1980, we landed among some great neighbors. They put up with many College and Career, as well as youth group pool parties, our sons and their friends, summer band rehearsals, and our dogs. Students came by to watch Hamlet or Death of a Salesman; we almost had a revolving door on the place!

And who were these tolerant folks? We had good neighbors all around, but our neighbors right next door watched our house as it they owned it. If anyone strange drove into the driveway, Joe or Geniene strode out and asked some questions. They even stopped my brother and sister-in-law once when Dave and I were away for the weekend. "How do you know the Wolfes?" asked Joe. After explaining the situation, Joe left them alone, but when Dave and I returned on Sunday night, Geniene came over and asked what my brother looked like.

After almost 30 years of suburban living in Arnold, we relocated to our log cabin on Winding Ridge. The mailboxes for the homes here sit in a row at the end of Bearfoot Road. Getting the mail involves a .4 mile walk each way in all kinds of weather, as Dave discovered last winter. But we have again found outstanding neighbors, folks who tell us about the activities going on in the county, take in our mail when we're gone, and keep an eye on our house. Beyond that, they share extra flowering bulbs, dig up spreading perennials and give them to us, and offer us fresh flowers and veggies from their gardens. The local UPS man gave his cell number to Dave the first week we lived here. Randy thoughtfully leaves packages where they'll be dry and safe from our local critters if we're not home. Then we get a call saying that he's delivered a package.

An NIV concordance uses the word neighbor 78 times; I find some worthy reminders there about being a good neighbor:

Do not say to your neighbor, “Come back later; I’ll give it tomorrow”— when you now have it with you.Do not plot harm against your neighbor, who lives trustfully near you. Prov. 3:28-29

Each of us should please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. Romans 15:2

Love does no harm to its neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfillment of the law. Romans 13:10

Yet, perhaps Jesus' command to "Love your neighbor as yourself," gives us the clearest reminder.

Thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory

2009-09-28T22:35:00.004-04:00

Can you guess what series the pastor concluded yesterday? Although some ancient manuscripts lack this closing in Matthew 6, a benediction typically ended the Jewish prayers of Jesus' day. To hear a series that investigates, phrase by phrase, the prayer model Jesus gave his disciples reminds us to pray with brains engaged. In days of uncertainty, upheaval, and fear, my heart soars when I think about God's kingdom, power and glory.
The kingdom is His alone; He rules as the sole sovereign; nothing and no one else have sovereignty. Actually, sovereignty poses a real stumbling block for us as Americans. Even as believers in Christ, we have that "pull yourself up by your own boot straps" mentality somewhere in our minds. Yet Colossians 1:13-15 says, "For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the son he loves, in whom we have redemption,^£ the forgiveness of sins. He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. ¹⁶For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. ¹⁷He is before all things, and in him all things hold together."
While I can read these verses, I can have severe memory loss about kingdom living some days. So I ask God to remind me that nothing threatens his kingdom because of God's power.
The Greek word for power used here gives us our English word for dynamite. Before we start thinking about Fiona's explosions as seen in "Burn Notice," think about the place to find God's power. Visible in the church that depends on the Scripture, this power changes the very hearts of people. In the 1800s, Charles Spurgeon issued a statement timely for today. He said that the church is here to proclaim the gospel, not to entertain. The apostle Paul wrote "For Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the gospel—not with words of human wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power."
That brings us to the third word of this benediction, glory. Unless your grandmother said, "Glory be," this word does not find its way into your vocabulary or thinking. Yet when Dave and I took a ride through our area on the ATV, words other than glory would not suffice. In Psalm 19:1, the psalmist says, "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands." And in this season of sapphire skies and bronzing leaves, we can glimpse God's glory. But beyond the sterling qualities of the physical world, we see that another glory goes to God for the work he does in us. Paul, writing in 2 Cor says, "And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect^£ the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit." What more can be said than "Amen"?

O Father, You Are Sovereign

2009-09-27T16:48:00.006-04:00

Several years ago a dear friend introduced me to the hymn,"O Father, You Are Sovereign." Written by Margaret Clarkson in the 1980s, the hymn writer affirms God's hand in all the affairs of life. The first verse looks at the creation, a Genesis approach to the power of the Word. Verse two defies the deist idea that God wound the universal clock and then walked away, leaving men's minds to keep the world running. Instead, as the disciples marveled, "Even the winds and waves obey Him"; nature submits to the power of the Word. Verse three strikes personally as it considers what C.S. Lewis wrote about in The Problem of Pain. What does God accomplish in the anguishes that accompany this life? Again, the power of the Word transforms pain and grief. Finally, without having answers to everything that assails us in this life, we trust and worship the One we know possesses all power.

O Father, You are sovereign
In all the worlds You made;
Your mighty Word was spoken,
And light and life obeyed.
Your voice commands the seasons
And bounds the ocean's shore,
Sets stars within their courses
And stills the tempests' roar.

O Father, You are sovereign
In all affairs of man;
No powers of death or darkness
Can thwart Your perfect plan.
All chance and change transcending,
Supreme in time and space,
You hold your trusting children
Secure in Your embrace.

O Father, You are sovereign
The Lord of human pain,
Transmuting earthly sorrows
To gold of heavenly gain,
All evil overruling,
As none but Conqueror could,
Your love pursues its purpose-
Our souls' eternal good.

O Father, You are sovereign!
We see You dimly now,
But soon before Your triumph
Earth's every knee shall bow.
With this glad hope before us
Our faith springs forth anew:
Our Sovereign Lord and Savior,
We trust and worship You!

The winds bluster outside today, but the Holy Spirit calms my heart, confident in God's sovereignty. May you find peace in the knowledge of Colossians 1:15-17

¹⁵We look at this Son and see the God who cannot be seen. We look at this Son and see God’s original purpose in everything created. ¹⁶For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, rank after rank after rank of angels—everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him. ¹⁷He was there before any of it came into existence and holds it all together right up to this moment. ¹⁸And when it comes to the church, he organizes and holds it together, like a head does a body. He was supreme in the beginning and—leading the resurrection parade—he is supreme in the end. From beginning to end he’s there, towering far above everything, everyone. The Message

Humility, a Prized Possession

2009-09-24T13:19:00.005-04:00

Last night Dave and I enjoyed a webcam visit with Brent, Becky, and Austyn Grace, with the free addition of audio from Uncle Bryan, on skype from Honolulu to Georgia! Zeus, the huskey-shepherd mix we "dog sat" for this summer captured Austyn Grace's heart. Imagine how deflating for us to get on the webcam, say "Hi Austyn Grace," and hear back, "Hi Zeus." Nothing like a taste of humble pie! But who can take offense at that adorable blond cutie? We laughed at her child-like desire to ask about the dog instead of her grandparents. As we grow up, other relationships prove more challenging.

Whether through ignorance, weakness or deliberate fault, we sin against each other repeatedly. Retaliation, in a myriad of forms or offering the grace of forgiveness follows. And those resulting actions dictate mental, physical and spiritual consequences. The sad truth, that we sin in thought, word and deed against both God and man, afflicts us all. The good news of the Gospel says that in genuine sorrow, we can turn to the Father repeatedly and find in Him One ready to absolve us once again. Easier to say than to practice.

Timothy Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in NYC, spells out some specifics about forgiveness that I find helpful. He begins with my need for humility, then what he calls "emotional wealth," and concludes with a biblical look at the character of forgiveness. Obedience comes before feelings. In Luke 17:3-10 Jesus illustrates this: "If he [your brother] sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says,'I repent,' forgive him" Actions and disciplines, not feelings, underscore forgiveness. I promise not to exact the price I determine from the one who has wronged me. The apostle Paul echoes the idea in Ephesians 4:32 when he writes, "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." The fact that learning to forgive is difficult does not absolve us from working at the task, perhaps by starting by seeking a bit more humility this very day.

Ode to my Brother

2009-09-23T17:35:00.004-04:00

In the evening of a long-ago September 23rd, my Dad came to my aunt and uncle's home to announce the news to me: I had a baby brother. Elated, my Dad expected my response to match his joy. Alas, I ran from the room in tears because my five-year-old heart still held steadfast to my desire for a baby sister! Mom had had a hard go of labor and delivery, and my Dad, thrilled to have a son to carry on the family name, could have spanked me right there! Foolish little girl. One of my greatest earthly gifts arrived that night, even if my stubbornness prevented me from seeing it then.
With five and a half years separating us, we grew up quite like only children. My senior year of high school matched Ken's year of entering seventh grade, giving us different interests and friends. That year we changed high schools, moving from one that played soccer to one that played football. Ken and I spent an entire weekend of TV football watching while he taught me the rudiments of the game I had not understood at all. We would watch a specific play and Ken would ask, "What cheer should the 'dumb' cheerleaders use now?" Ken explained, "The players hate it when you girls are yelling 'Hold that line,' while our team is trying to score a touchdown!" While Ken lived to play football, basketball and baseball, I attended college eight hours away and never saw any of his high school games. When he played in an alumni game one fall, I finally got to cheer for him from the sidelines. The summer after eleventh grade, Ken served as a groomsman at my wedding, but our worlds were seldom tangent.
Adulthood brings a shortening of the gap in years, and for that, I will always be thankful. Ken moved to Maryland to job hunt after he finished his degree at Rochester Institute of Technology; he moved in with Dave and me and then cared for our apartment while we lived in Wisconsin. No more the little brother who pestered me, he and I had conversations that explored lots of uncharted water about life and love. He met Sandi, the love of his life. About a month after their wedding, the four of us stood in a cold cemetery and buried our Dad, age 59. Together, Ken and I made trips to South Carolina when our Mom received her diagnosis. Like Dad, she had cancer but she died at age 66. Ken and I often kidded her -- and each other -- about her having knitted a hot pink layette for her first grandchild and then welcoming six grandsons.
I have gotten over the fact that you were not a baby sister, Ken. I treasure you with each passing day and wish you a terrific birthday.

Oh, the Complexities

2009-09-17T15:11:00.011-04:00

I stand in amazement at the complexities of what may appear as elementary as the leaves I collected the other day. Whether the name of the tree, the veining, coloration, or the degree of curling, the diversity merits careful study to appreciate the complexities of an autumn leave. Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892) expressed the implications of a simple sight seen in nature when he wrote "Flower in the Crannied Wall."

FLOWER in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies;—
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower—but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.

The poet struggled with the enormity of the implications behind that flower coming out of a crack in the wall. Why? Because the flower had roots far deeper than Tennyson could see in his science versus religion struggle.

Looking from nature to music, I see another example of precision in study and timing. I recently joined the Garrett County Choral Society and currently find myself learning the correct German pronunciation for Bach’s Cantata 140, Sleepers, Awake. While we sopranos have the simplicity of half and whole notes that carry the chorale’s melody, the other three parts must scurry through an amazing fugue and get the pronunciation correct. The aid called cyberbass.com helps with the at-home practice. Go to the choral works of major composers, select the notes for a particular part and practice outside the weekly rehearsal time. The group then practices for 2 ½ hours each Sunday evening from early September until the December concert.

So what connects nature, music and health care? You may think this strange, but I believe the current rush to pass some kind of health care reform is dashing headlong without enough study, not to mention time to even read the various documents blowing through Washington at the present. Those who favor comprehensive health care for all have testimonials from doctors advocating this; the other side also presents doctors who vehemently argue in the opposite direction. Whatever your position, virtually all agree that the topic of health care comes fully stocked with complexities. These issues will, doubtless, require more study, time and practice than any Bach fugue because there are as many variations if the particulars as the leaves on the trees. Don’t the complexities of health care need careful study, clear articulation, and much debate before we legislate?

Colorful Reminders

2009-09-16T11:37:00.004-04:00

As we drove up to Winding Ridge yesterday, I took this photo through the Jeep's sunroof.

Lately, autumn's colors pop more each day. I've even got the tripod set on the porch, hoping to capture the same scene as it changes daily. One day I'll post that moment of beauty that captures the essence of fall 2009. The season will flee all too soon, giving way to what the almanac promises: a hard winter. So each day's glimpse offers a taste of grace, most obviously in a visual offering.

Musically, I have recently joined the Garrett County Choral Society, where seeing grace notes reminds me of grace-filled sound bites. Yes, I do have to copy the syllable-by-syllable pronunciation of the German for Bach's Cantata140, but the harmonies of the chorale make the effort worth it. The 70-member group practices each Sunday evening for 2 1/2 hours simply to make music together.

Visual and auditory grace notes, because they demand our attention, can overpower other graces. My husband just took the time to print out each song that's on my iPod. Dave's computer skills grace me everyday. Last night he changed the profile photo for my college Divas' (Divinely Inspired Vivacious Affectionate Sisterhood) Facebook page. And a friend who's collected quotes for years mailed me a typed copy last week. To quote Luther, "The heart of the giver makes the gift dear and precious." Yet another friend from Bible study gave me a jar of her homemade cream, a cream that has given her the skin of a youngster!

Grace notes in music, small in notation and quick in performance, make a lush difference in a tune. Why don't we all purpose to "grace" someone this day? The apostle John reminds us, "From the fullness of His grace we have all received one blessing after another." (John 1:16)

Monday Musings

2009-09-14T10:59:00.006-04:00

The changes occurring here on Winding Ridge remind me that weather proves unforgiving. The ferns' brilliant green gives way to yellow before turning brown and dying. As I meditate on yesterday's sermon, drawn from Matthew 6, I find myself comparing the effects of my ferns with the demise of relationships when I withhold forgiveness.

At the end of what we commonly refer to as he Lord's Prayer, God adds a sort of P.S., again bringing up the topic of forgiveness. Within the prayer, at verse 12, we pray, "and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." Yet, in verses 14 and 15, the addendum comes as the Lord resurrects the forgiveness topic again. "For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses."

When people knowingly withhold forgiveness, such grievous pain results. As I harbor my hurt soul, anger develops, often morphing into slander and condescension. Yet I daily seek the Lord for His forgiveness of my sins, grateful for his mercy and grace that he lavishes on me. Why withhold from another the cleansing power that revitalizes? Pride, stubbornness and fear come to mind, and I dare not dismiss such character flaws. God's about the business of sanctification, conforming me into the likeness of Christ. This week must involve a fresh look at my life.

But what about cases where I need to forgive but am ignorant of the offense? Let me return to the fern illustration. When Dave and I returned from a trip this summer, we discovered a clump of fern fringed with some green but dead brown at its center. A mystery to us as to the cause, the damage testified to devastation at the center despite some green feigning life. In our human relationships the subtle distancing, the awkwardness of now infrequent conversations, the busyness that separates us may indicate the need to ask if something between us needs reconciliation. I must let go of my self-justifying because God has forgiven me everything and He calls me to live as His disciple. I have some soul searching to do this week, but Jesus has promised to walk with me through it.

Imitation

2009-09-11T16:34:00.005-04:00

My husband has sprouted quite a beard since his November 2008 retirement. Its snowy whiteness and increasing length have garnered a number of stares. Remarks from older church ushers as well as younger children have linked Dave to Santa Claus. Earlier this summer two children entering Chik-Fil-A spotted Dave and softly questioned each other saying, "Ho, Ho?" In a recent bubble bath, our granddaughter even imitated Grandpa with her own version of a beard. Clever, eh? We find it endearing when children desire to mimic those they love.
How much our Heavenly Father must love it when we imitate the attributes He treasures: love joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, just to pull from Paul's list in Galatians 5. Moving from a legalistic "I ought," that seeks to earn God's favor or aims to pridefully receive the praises of men, to a heart response of "I truly take joy in my Father," involves sanctification. Measuring the motives of the heart takes brutal honesty, the type the Puritans often displayed in their confessional prayers. The skill in burning away the dross from my heart takes me time and quiet. The Bible's admonition to "Be still and know that I am God," allows the Holy Spirit to purify the imitating I do of my Heavenly Father. And I want that for His glory and my good.

Don't Miss Jesus

2009-09-09T22:23:00.007-04:00

Legalism twists our view of Jesus. Whether current news stories like Jaycee Dugard, or the horrible headlines from decades ago when Jim Jones' followers died together, we seriously misrepresent Jesus when we beat people over the head with laws. We often laugh at the arbitrary laws the Pharisees foisted upon first century Jews: A devout Jew could ride a donkey on the Sabbath but could not use a switch to move the animal faster because that would lay a burden on the donkey. One could only walk a certain number of steps on the Sabbath without transforming getting to worship into work, something forbidden for Jews following the law. Even today, some hotels in Israel have "Shabbat" elevators. On the Sabbath these elevators stop at every floor so orthodox Jews do not have to do the work of pushing the button for their desired floor.
Yet are we not as guilty of legalism? With shame, I remember students accosted for wearing no socks or guys forbidden to have any facial hair. The administrators surely could have looked into those individual faces and seen a need for a simple, "Good morning. How are things going?" I too have fallen into a posture that's placed law before grace, and I repent of it.
When I welcomed students into a Christian high school, I used to tell them that we were not an angel factory. Christian students and teachers would disappoint them many times over, whether out of ignorance, fear, control or anger. Jesus' followers don't always represent Him well. Please look to Jesus and model Him. I also warned students that although classes might often start with prayer or singing, and chapel occurred weekly, each student needed a personal encounter with the living Christ. Living on "borrowed light" will translate into personal darkness, a profound disappointment over a relationship that never really existed. I'd tell the incoming freshmen to make sure that in their years at the school they did not miss Jesus.
Whenever our love for God morphs into ways of impressing others or controlling them, we have lost grace, and we cause others to miss Jesus. Don't get me wrong. God is sovereign and will call His own. Scripture tells us that the Gospel will be an offense to some, but as my pastor has said, "Woe to us if we are that offense." If some misguided Christian has spoken venom to you, seemed terribly offensive and ungracious, please lift your eyes to the author and perfecter of our faith. Follow Him and don't miss Jesus.

Contentment

2009-09-06T16:16:00.019-04:00

This morning's sermon, drawn from Philippians 4, again drew my attention to contentment. The Message puts Paul's comments on the topic this way: ¹¹Actually, I don’t have a sense of needing anything personally. I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. ¹²I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. ¹³Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am. Why can I forget these verses and fall into discontent so easily?

A two-year-old finds contentment in the simply joy of a surprise evening trip to Brewster's for a child's ice cream cone. While there, and totally unplanned, Austyn Grace's best friend Carley pulls up with her mom and dad. The squeals of the two girls immediately rival a family reunion after years, not hours, of separation. Whether milk after an afternoon nap or an unexpected visit with a girlfriend, contentment seems easy for a child.
Fast forward to this Sunday afternoon's meltdown and I realize that even as children, we struggle to stay on top of contentment. A temporarily lost doll means anguish and a shorter-than-usual nap. Follow that with a bump on the head, a time out for refusing to listen to daddy, and a dunking of our toy pony in the toilet, and contentment vaporizes.
Am I that different from any two-year-old when I consider an adult approach to contentment? I read a Puritan prayer from The Valley of Vision, and again ask for the grace to gain a deeper understanding and a greater appropriation of biblical contentment.

Heavenly Father,

If I should suffer need, and go unclothed, and be in poverty,
make my heart prize Thy love,
know it, be constrained by it,
though I be denied all blessings.

It is Thy mercy to afflict and try me with wants,
for by these trials I see my sins,
and desire severance from them.

Let me willingly accept misery, sorrows, temptations,
if I can thereby feel sin as the greatest evil,
and be delivered from it with gratitude to Thee,
acknowledging this as the highest testimony of Thy love.

When thy Son, Jesus, came into my soul
instead of sin He became more dear to me
than sin had formerly been;
His kindly rule replaced sin’s tyranny.

Teach me to believe that if ever I would have any sin subdued
I must not only labour to overcome it,
but must invite Christ to abide in the place of it,
and He must become to me more than
vile lust had been;
that His sweetness, power, life may be there.

Thus I must seek a grace from Him contrary to sin,
but must not claim it apart from Himself.
When I am afraid of evils to come,
comfort me by showing me
that in myself I am a dying, condemned wretch,
but in Christ I am reconciled and live;
that in myself I find insufficiency and no rest,
but in Christ there is satisfaction and peace;
that in myself I am feeble and unable to do good,
but in Christ I have ability to do all things.

Though now I have His graces in part,
I shall shortly have them perfectly
in that state where Thou wilt show Thyself
fully reconciled,
and alone sufficient, efficient,
loving me completely,
with sin abolished.

O Lord, hasten that day.

Taken from ‘The Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers,’ edited by Arthur Bennett

Saying Goodbye

2009-09-05T14:50:00.005-04:00

OK, so Zeus is only a dog, but Dave and I had to say goodbye to her yesterday. And I had grown attached to that pooch. We'd been dog sitting for her since July 2, and she is an easy dog to love, not perfect, but lovable. Now understand that she had "broken us in" by chewing a few heirloom photos that Dave hadn't yet scanned into his genealogy program Then she decided to chew off the cover of an album I had created as a remembrance of our 2004 trip to Hawaii. At least Zeus knew where she would eventually live.
Dave and I took two road trips with this travel-wise canine. She ate before and after the 11-hour journeys, drank sparingly, and used any patch of grass Dave found near the gas stations and restaurants we chose. She curled herself up on the back seat and rode contentedly. Not much barking at strangers and unbelievably tolerant of children, Zeus wasn't much bother for us at all.
Brent and Becky drove Zeus to Atlanta yesterday and put her on a cargo plane this morning, a non-stop flight to Honolulu where she'll rejoin Bryan and Stacey at their new home. Actually, Bryan's stuck in Dallas as I write, but he hopes to get home sometime before this day ends--on Hawaii time!
Zeus may teach me some things about saying good-bye. Life asks that I live graciously toward all I encounter. Rejoice in the time we have together but trust that God has each encounter and destination well in His control. Thanks for the lesson, Zeus. I hope to see you in Hawaii one day!

Grace, Earned Versus Unmerited

2009-09-03T22:08:00.003-04:00

I had been reading Yancy's What's So Amazing About Grace earlier in the day and was struck by the disarming sweetness of it.Yancy says, "Grace comes from outside, as a gift and not as an achievement." Yet I can get caught in thinking and doing, assuming I somehow can earn God's favor. While my theology affirms the doctrine of unmerited favor, my life too often shows something very different. I fall into the Satan-made trap of performance, somehow trying to earn that which God has already conferred on me through the finished work of His Son.

So what traps snap upon me most? Oh, I can fall into any of the ones that the world tantalizes me with, whether brains, bucks, brawn, or beauty. A look at various people from around the globe demonstrates the universality of trying to earn grace. Ben Franklin kept a book of 13 virtues that he tried -- unsuccessfully -- to keep all his life. In Haiti, people cut themselves and then wallow through a mud pit until they can reach a cross stationed at the end of the pit.

Thus, my attempts to understand and appropriate grace create a real struggle in everyday life. Experiencing grace in a church setting, an antithetical as it seems, can prove very difficult. I find myself agreeing with Yancy when he describes finding grace in music, the beauty of the creation, and in love. As I sat on the back porch and watched my granddaughter raise her hands and simply take in the joy in her backyard, I think I took a closer step to grasping God's grace toward me. Just receive.

Getting to Know the Family Better Takes Time and Effort

2009-08-31T20:26:00.009-04:00

Uncle Bryan traveled 8 hours on Friday to get to Statesboro, Georgia, only to leave at noon on Sunday and return to Miami. Why such effort for so short a visit? He took the time and made the effort to spend time with family because he believes in the importance of family time. He drew his Hawaii house's view with sidewalk chalk, and then played front yard soccer amidst an infestation of gnats.

After worshiping together on Sunday, we ate our lunch before Bryan got his good-bye hugs from his niece, Austyn Grace. I thought of the ideas expressed in The Message's paraphrase of verses from Galatians 6.
⁴Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. ⁵Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.

⁹So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit. ¹⁰Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith.

So as we all have opportunity this week, let's invest ourselves in the lives of those closest to us -- our family.

Reunions

2009-08-28T21:26:00.006-04:00

Around 8:30 tonight, as Brent, Becky, Dave and I sat in the living room, engrossed in reading Austyn Grace her bedtime story, Uncle Bryan walked up to the front door. Although Aunt Stacey is working in Honolulu, Uncle Bryan drove here after having just worked three weeks in Miami....their work life is complicated to say the least! The six of us together at one time constitutes a mini-Wolfe family reunion because we seven live in three different states -- Maryland, Georgia and Hawaii!

But our hugs had to wait for something else. You see, the most exuberant reunion occurred between Bryan and his dog Zeus! Taking a photo proved impossible as the Husky mix went ballistic, bounding over pillows, then over the back of the sofa. She wanted to launch her 40+ pounds right into Bryan's arms. With each pass through the living room, she gathered speed and excitement. Her shepherd ears lay plastered against her head as she could barely contain her joy. We laughed, gasped, and held on lest we get knocked off our feet as we witnessed the love displayed at the sight of dog and master reunited.

Tonight I caught a tiny glimpse of the indescribable delight that lies ahead in our most important reunion. Yes, I'll be excited to see many family and friends in heaven, but I will express total joy in ways I can only imagine when the Master welcomes me home.

Traveling Grandma's Thoughts

2009-08-25T16:09:00.005-04:00

My friend Irene started calling me "Traveler" when Dave and I moved out here to the woods almost ten months ago. The name fits, not because Dave and I globe trot to China and exotic ports of call, but because our trips take us to Georgia and Florida to see our grown guys, their wives, and our two-year-old granddaughter.
Our adventurous sons moved out of Maryland to pursue grad school and jobs. We enjoyed each phase with Brent and Bryan, especially the teen years. By the time they had finished college, we had transitioned to adult friends. We still love to spend time together, whether we do something like spot gators in the Everglades or just hang out and watch a DVD. Happily, both guys married women who like us, and the two-year-old charmer named Austyn Grace won our hearts immediately.
The dryer's hum and the appearance of suitcases on our bed mean we will head out tomorrow morning with a first stop in Augusta to see Vickie and DeWayne Davenport. Zeus, Bryan and Stacey's dog, will make the trip with us, and then fly to Hawaii on September 5th to join Bryan and Stacey at their new home. That means we are packing dog food, toys, shampoo, leashes and crate, along with our clothing for temperatures almost 40 degrees warmer than here in our woods. I also have homemade cookies and things Austyn Grace left here during her last visit. The packing presents a daunting task.
As the logistics of this trip began to boggle my mind, I thought of the trip made on my behalf over two centuries ago. Making that journey, enshrined in a virgin's womb, meant giving up heaven for earth, walking beside faithless humans, shedding infinite mobility for entrapment in flesh and blood, and offering up that flesh and blood in the world's most heinous execution. That trip, made out of unfathomable, unconditional love, truly demonstrates God's grace to His world. With a thankful heart, I returned to my simple packing task, mindful of One who came for me.

Monday Meditation

2009-08-24T10:55:00.004-04:00

I continue to study prayer corporately at church and independently from the porch of our cabin. Yesterday's sermon provided a wake-up call about the breadth of my prayers. You know. Can I pray beyond my needs and the needs of my family? And do I?
Even when I had more brain cells than I do now, I had a prayer focus for days of the week to aid my memory. For example, since Monday starts with m, I pray specifically for missionaries then. Dave and I keep tabs with some particular folks serving in the US and in four foreign countries. We email and know details about their prayer needs. However, one missionary friend, now in heaven, used to tell us this simple truth: He'd say, "What are you struggling with right now? What's on your mind? We can probably use prayer for the same kinds of things." Your kids start school this month and you have concerns about their choice of friends and the teachers they will have. The same smooth transitions you pray for your kids you can pray for ours too. Whether we have the most current letter or email, we can pray meaningful prayers for missionaries.
But the pastor still has me thinking about other countries and things beyond my immediate concerns. So this morning I stopped and asked the Lord to enlarge my boundaries. I'm not thinking the prayer of Jabez that gained popularity a few years ago. Rather, what information could I gather that would make me a more intelligent pray-er? Honestly, I did some Scripture reading this morning, followed by some listening. Still working on that.
Another difference in my prayer life comes from using HOPE. H starts my prayer with an emphasis on the holiness of God and giving Him the honor due His name. O opens my heart to present my offenses to this holy God. P allows me to praise the Lord through using the Psalms, a CD or singing aloud, and finally, E leads me to present needs and concerns for God's eternal purposes, something larger than please heal my neighbor. Prayer keeps bringing a joy in this journey of life. No one likes dull or repetitive conversations, so why offer them to the Lord?

August's Garden

2009-08-22T17:13:00.011-04:00

In the woods on our ridge, autumn comes early. The daisies' innocent beauty fades; the cone flowers' vibrant pinks grow pale; the first colored leaves lie scattered on the ground. Soon signs advertising "hardy mums for sale" will dot our surrounding country roads. The halcyon days of summer give way to the hectic pace of school schedules.

Words and their derivations fascinate me, and Stephen Messenger, writing in The Wall Street Journal, provided some information earlier this summer on the naming of flowers. "Like many words in our language, many of the names of flowers hold clues about their history and relationship to us. The daisy, for example, known for its small yellow blossoms, is quite common throughout the world. Daisies are unique in that they close their golden petals during the night and keep them shut, as if in sleep, until the morning. This peculiar characteristic earned this little flower the name 'day's eye' from speakers of Old English. Eventually, that name was compounded into the word daisy." A less favorite plant, "dandelions also derive their name from their characteristically numerous thick and slender yellow petals. It is not so strange for an imaginative observer to equate the dandelion's coarse petals to rows of teeth on a well-fanged beast. This comparison explains its French origin dent de lion, or in English "teeth of a lion." Haven't we all tried a myriad of treatments in our battle with this lion as it seeks to devour our lawns?

God provides a visual and a linguistic reminder in The Message as it paraphrases Isaiah 40:6-8

I said, “What shall I shout?”

“These people are nothing but grass,

their love fragile as wildflowers.

⁷The grass withers, the wildflowers fade,

if God so much as puffs on them.

Aren’t these people just so much grass?

⁸True, the grass withers and the wildflowers fade,

but our God’s Word stands firm and forever

So as flowers' hues fade and summer passes into the yellow leaves of fall, we can remain steadfast, not on the ephemeral elements of the seasons, but on the surety of God's Word to us.

Getting Your Own Food

2009-08-19T17:06:00.008-04:00

When Dave and I visited the Garrett County Fair last week, I took this photo of a goat eating its neighbor's food. Cute? Clever? I actually took the picture as a reminder that food often is my idol of choice. In case you think of idolatry only in terms of a wooden or stone statue in a pagan culture, let me assure you that we all have some golden calf whether fame, education, money, or some natural inclination. Either Jesus controls (rules) my behavior or some idol does. According to Romans 1, an idol leads me to "futile" thinking to the point that I will "exchange the truth for a lie." To discover the basis for the lie, I have to work at identifying my idols by asking hard questions. What frightens me in nightmarish proportions? What sends anger into overdrive? What good qualities have assumed deity proportions in my life? What or whom do I think I have to control to make my world worth living? Answering such questions takes time and honest thought, but in order to heal, I have to recognize the malady.
After a time of soul searching, the best news available comes from the Gospel. However, many wave off the Gospel as too simplistic or unsophisticated. Moralists tell me to change my behavior, but slipping back into legalism will not destroy idols. The psychological camp wants me to feel better about myself and leave idols to another time and/or culture.Only the Gospel tells me I'm worse than I ever dared think and loved more than I ever dared hope. Worse, because I have established some food as a savior. My bondage to sin was broken by Christ. I reread Romans 6:14 "Sin shall not be your master for you are not under the law, but under grace." The focus now fixes on Jesus who calls me His own child and allows me to all Him, "Abba, Father," or Pappy. As my knowledge of Christ's righteousness deepens, my love draws me toward Him and begins to destroy the idol. The struggle continues, but neither enforced behaviors nor positive feelings demolish idols. Falling more deeply in love with Jesus as the lover of my soul, lets me find my sufficiency in Him.

Blackberry Season

2009-08-17T16:48:00.007-04:00

Picking wild blackberries demands knowledge and persistence. Some of the berries look bright red, but since these are not raspberry bushes, we know red berries or those just turning black will taste bitter and seedy. However, since bears and birds feed on these berries, waiting too long means losing the berries to the wildlife.So besides the knowledge about what ripe fruit looks like, the successful berry picker must frequently check the same places. Earlier this summer, we sampled the bitter berries, but this afternoon Dave helped me get on the ATV, and we rode off to harvest the now sweet blackberries that grow at the end of Bearfoot Road. The old bramble-twisted bushes didn't easily surrender their sweet fruit, and the heat and gnats made picking berries a sticky, demanding task. Still, we wanted to share some of the berries with a neighbor and make a blackberry cobbler. Without Dave's help, I would have abandoned the task almost immediately. The brambles tore into my jeans and then into my hand; gnats bit my lip and eyelids as sweat rolled down my face; my unsteady balance required Dave's frequent help just to move me to the next clump of berries. Yet the berries we shared and the ones ready for tomorrow's baking made the effort worth it.
When I taught at Annapolis Area Christian School, I told my students that studying Scripture would always take knowledge and persistence. Satan wants to keep us from serious Bible study any time he can. Spiritual growth has always taken study tools, time, staying at the task, and sometimes a person with more skill who can help lead the way. I'll be thinking of blackberry picking as I review Galatians 4 tomorrow morning and appreciating a Savior who helps me see His truths in everyday tasks.

Blue Ribbon Service

2009-08-16T19:45:00.004-04:00

This last week Dave and I drove to Morgantown, WV to shop on Wednesday, and went to the Garrett County Fair on Thursday. If I could, I'd give a blue ribbon from the fair to Cheddar's, the restaurant in WV. The reason? Old fashioned customer service! Dave and I had never eaten at Cheddar's, but we decided to try it.
Shortly after the hostess seated us, she returned to our table. "Is that Jeep Cherokee in the handicapped spot yours? I'm sorry to tell you this, but judging from the steam pouring out from under the hood, it looks like you've blown a radiator hose. When you're ready to take care of it, let me know and I'll get someone to help."
Dave checked it out and came back to eat before tackling the radiator hose repair. He noted that the hostess had matched the Jeep with us despite the fact that two Jeep Cherokees occupied side-by-side handicapped spaces. And true to her word, she got an assistant manager when Dave finished eating.
Chuck took Dave to the local auto parts' store, waited until Dave purchased the hose and a few tools (Any other time his tools would be in the Jeep, but not that day!), and drove the two of them back to Cheddar's. As Dave completed the repair and added more coolant, Chuck came outside and asked if he could offer help in any other way.
We pulled out of the parking lot, thankful that we'd not had the break down on I 79, and marveling about the service we'd just received. And, yes, Cheddar's won over two new customers that day with their blue ribbon service.

Patterns in the Woods

2009-08-15T10:40:00.010-04:00

I step onto the porch this morning where the strength of the August sun surprises me. Our 2600-foot elevation, aided by our woods, usually tempers the heat. The patterns created as the sunlight filters through the trees catch my attention and make me thankful. I appreciate not only the ameliorating breezes in our woods, but also the relief God gives, even in this fallen world, when the heat is on.

Currently, my doctor has me keeping a pain diary, a task I find, well, a pain. Several times a day I note time, pain level, location and description of pain, medication and amount, other treatment, and the activity at the time. Stopping to write down this information focuses too much on what I want to ignore.

However, I look outside and see beautiful patterns made by strong sun, overhead clouds, and fluttering leaves. Each element converges to create beauty. Edith Schaeffer, in her book The Tapestry, refers to our working on the underside of a tapestry, seeing the knots and mistakes. Yet from above, God's perspective, a work of beauty emerges. Thinking about the usefulness of each element, whether searing heat or cooling relief, puts pain in some perspective for me. I live on earth, sustained by grace, but I long for heaven. My scattered thoughts find succinct expression in the words of Puritan Thomas Brooks:

"Here God gives His people some taste, that they may not faint; and He gives them but a taste, that they may long to be at home, that they may keep humble, that they may sit loose from things below, that they may not break and despise bruised reeds and that heaven may be more sweet to them at last."

In all things praise Him

2009-08-14T09:43:00.005-04:00

"In time of trouble, say, 'first, he brought me here. It is by his will that I am in this strait place; in that I will rest.'"
"Next, 'He will keep me here in his love, and give me grace in this trial to behave as his child.'"
"Then say, 'He will make the trial a blessing, teaching me lessons he intends me to learn, working in me the grace he means to bestow."
"And last, say, 'In his good time he can bring me out again. How and when, he knows.'"
"Therefore, say, 'I am here, by God's appointment, in his keeping, under his training, for his time.'" Andrew Murray

My son Bryan started a quote book in high school. I sometimes wish I had kept such a book over the years because certain writers just nail a thought with astounding accuracy. Murray puts difficulties in perspective, summarizing well in the final sentence of the quote above.
Understand, today's not a bad day for me physically. Actually, as my friend Tom Wenger used to say when asked how he was doing, "Better than I deserve," characterizes this sun-drenched morning. It's a clear day on Deep Creek Lake.
Jesus told us that in this world we would have troubles, but we could remain confident that His sovereign will overcomes. May our hearts receive encouragement this morning as we see by faith our God at work in our lives.

Boredom and Serenity

2009-08-13T10:41:00.015-04:00

"Boredom is the feeling that everything is a waste of time; serenity, that nothing is." Thomas Szasz

People often ask what I'm up to in retirement or what's keeping me busy or if I'm bored. Actually, I've never been a fan of the word bored. I insisted that my students and my own children at least use vapid or insipid when attempting to access a particular situation. Haven't we all become jaded with so many things and so many choices? If our world doesn't run at full tilt, we somehow view far too many things as a waste of time. Some activities can fall into the waste of time category, but in retirement, I think the Lord's trying to teach me a reformed view of doing and being.

While sitting on the porch swing last week, Becky, Austyn Grace and I spent a good bit of time ooohhhing, ahhhhing, touching and giggling over our discovery of an inch worm. Later that same day, three generations patiently stood on a bridge attempting to catch a fish. As we later prayed over our picnic lunch, we noted the beauty of the day God had created for our enjoyment. As I captured both of these photos, serenity, not boredom, possessed my heart and soul.

Perspective and purpose color our everyday experiences because God cries out to be seen in even the most mundane. Today I will focus on Dutch theologian Abraham Kuyper's statement: “In the total expanse of human life there is not a single square inch of which the Christ, who alone is sovereign, does not declare, 'That is mine!'”

The Perfect S'mores

2009-08-08T17:30:00.005-04:00

Most people have a definite method for creating the perfect s'more. The first step involves choosing the right stick. The impatient s'more chef will grab the first stick in the woods. Connoisseurs may insist on owning one of the metal beauties from Plow and Hearth. The second step deals with the degree of marshmallow doneness. Some char that white puff of sugar while others slowly roast the marshmallow to a golden brown. The choice of milk chocolate or semi-sweet comes next, followed by the construction of the actual s'more. However, the best part of this sweet concoction comes in the eating : ~ )
On Friday night 12 adults and 4 children gathered around our camp fire to make s'mores and watch fireflies.The accompanying pictures tell the story best.

Life's simple pleasures

2009-08-07T22:43:00.003-04:00

Having our two-year-old granddaughter visit us here in the woods, and bring her Mommy and Daddy along too, has provided a glimpse of life's simple pleasures. Yesterday Austyn Grace showed us the sheer abandon of playing at the playground, throwing rocks in the river, picking wild daisies for Mommy, playing with Zeus, the world's most tolerant dog, and meeting our good friends, the Beans' clan for dinner.
Today I watched three generations fish together; Austyn Grace bagged the only fish caught! She alone went swimming at New Germany State Park! The adults all found the water too cold! And around a campfire at Grandpa and Grandma's house, Austyn Grace discovered fireflies and then tasted her first S'more. The book we read at bedtime was Eric Carle's The Very Lonely Firefly.
I know there will come a day when Disney World will captivate our dear pixie girl, but for right now, this grandma is just leaning back and savoring life's simple pleasures.

Choosing books

2009-08-05T11:23:00.007-04:00

Yesterday Dave and I made a trip to Morgantown, WV and spent a good bit of time at Barnes and Noble. The resulting purchases reflect our current interests.
Dave wants to see the big picture of history, so his huge foldout book starts with Adam and Eve. The complexity of the charts increases as Chinese dynasties of 600 - 500 B.C. create a time line that parallels Confucius, Aesop, Pythagoras, and Daniel in the lion's den. The ending date of 2004 shows Queen Elizabeth II, the continuing Chechyna War of independence from Russia, and George W. Bush. So much of what we learned in history and Bible came in chunks that did not interrelate. Dave has always wanted such a comparative study laid out country alongside country, and now he has it.
My selection, Letters to Malcolm, marks an ongoing quest of mine to read the major works of C.S. Lewis. Currently our Sunday School class is studying Lewis' The Great Divorce, so my choice of a book testifies to the reawakening of my long-term goal.
Finally, Eric Carle's The Very Lonely Firefly is a gift for Austyn Grace, our two-year-old granddaughter who arrives with her parents tonight. Since we live here in the woods, we see many fireflies at night. My thought in buying this children's book was to hopefully make a connection for Austyn Grace between what she reads and what she experiences.
Buying books takes thought and purpose; maybe that's why I can spend so much time --not to mention money -- in a book store.

Monday meditation

2009-08-03T11:45:00.006-04:00

Mondays in retirement afford me the time to meditate on Sunday's worship. This morning I sat on the porch, sang several hymns accapella, prayed for a friend leaving on a mission trip this week, meditated on a prayer from Valley if Vision, and rethought yesterday's sermon from Matthew 6.
The wind of the Spirit blows across my mind, rustling my thoughts as the breeze gently turns the leaves over in the woods. Today I am processing my thoughts about the best sounds of Sundays out here. Dave and I now worship with a small congregation in Oakland; we currently have no pianist or organist, and we borrow the Episcopal Church for our services. The two sounds that draw my heart upward involve the hymns sung with harmony but no instruments and the swishing of pages in people's Bibles.
Happily, our worship leader, a frequent bass soloist in the Garrett County Choral Society, has a fantastic voice and leads well. But the richness that draws me to worship comes from the people singing harmony all around. The words minister truth and the harmony reminds us of the diversity in God's church. Different gifts can minister all week as God's people serve in various ways. And the other sound? Worshipers not only carry their Bibles, but they also turn to each passage, from the call to worship to the foundational passage for the pastoral prayer to the references made during the sermon. Like little Bereans, we follow each passage, personally seeking the truths of Scripture. The sound of those pages turning draws each heart to the main focus of worship: what do the Scriptures say.
I love the sound of people flipping pages in their Bibles! Interestingly enough, as I took a photo of my porch chair this morning, the breeze kicked in and turned the page in my Bible. Hope you have time for meditating on your Sunday worship.

Beyond the rain

2009-08-01T19:16:00.006-04:00

This summer Garrett County is about 36 shades of green, due in large part to all the precipitation we've had. When I checked the rain gauge this morning, it registered 2 1/2 inches. Now, if arthritis and rheumatism grace your bones and joints, endless forecasts for rain do not make you smile.However, late yesterday afternoon the skies cleared and today dawned in pristine beauty. The sun came out, the temperature warmed to about 78 degrees, and the skies offered white puffy clouds dotting a cerulean background. Ah, summer at it finest. The persistent rains of the last four months evaporated in my mind and I read, baked banana bread, played with the dog and went to Friendsville Days with my husband.
The wind of the Spirit always blows in the midst of difficulties, but I often don't realize it until the sun comes out again. For some of life's hardest questions, full sunshine may not occur in this world. I think of one of my friends who, in these last stages of MS, struggles to move a few facial muscles to communicate, or another friend who works tirelessly to get the best educational placement for her son with CP. Following Jesus Christ does not exempt Christians from suffering. So how do we hope if the rains seem to fall endlessly? Our faith rests in a sovereign God who exists in rain and sun, trial and triumph. That is what Francis Schaeffer called "true truth." And what I know must precede what I feel. Seeing God in life's deluges can blind us temporarily, but He is in the storm, steadying us and offering to shelter us under His wings. It's the only place to find calm in the midst of the tempest. When the sun comes out, and it will, you'll know how you weathered the rain.

Being messy

2009-07-31T17:31:00.007-04:00

I'm baking chocolate chip cookies this afternoon and freezing them as fast as I can. Who isn't tempted to consume warm cookies right out of the oven? Brent, Becky and Austyn Grace visit here next week and then we'll eat those thawed confections together. Since all the Wolfes like underbaked cookies, the first batch out of the oven can be little more than warmed dough. Getting those gooey morsels just right requires a balance somewhere between softness that would make the Keebler elves ashamed of their hard crunchy cookies and globs of amorphous dough that break apart. The underbaked cookies taste great, but they sure create sticky hands and poor looking specimens that the Iron Chef would banish from his kitchen.
Another messy scene occurred when we went to Brewster's in Statesboro, GA. There, Austyn Grace got a baby ice cream cone for her second birthday. She devoured that thing with relish and wore about as much as she ate. We laughed, she giggled, and the two dogs we had with us tried to lick Austyn Grace to pieces.
Somehow I wish the messes I can get into were as inconsequential and as humorous as cookies and ice cream. But as adults we realize that some personal interactions, poor financial or career choices, or unexplainable life situations leave messes in their wake that have no easy answers or quick remedies. Cleaning up after cookie baking or ice cream spills is far easier. Nevertheless, I do clean up kitchen catastrophes and wash toddler clothing. Can I do any less with the other messes? Cleaning up will take more time and work, and humor will not usually hallmark them, but those clean-ups can have far-reaching repercussions for good in my character. Hmmmmm. That'll give me something to ponder as I do the dishes.

Porch time

2009-07-30T17:30:00.006-04:00

My husband likes to read, plan projects, watch the birds, process and think whenever he sits out on our 25-foot long porch. He craves solitude and energizes from it. He thrives on what he dubs "porch time." When we had this cabin built in 2002, my good friend and principal of the high school where I worked lauded the value of time to process all the information that bombards us daily. He commended Dave for his porch time. Even in cold weather my husband dons his ski parka and sits out there for long stretches of time.
On the other hand, I'll admit to being a fair-weather porch sitter, but I do find it refreshing to work out there in these summer months. I pick wild flowers and place various arrangements on the porch table. This small table also accommodates the lap top, my Bible, some gardening tools, and whatever books I'm in the process of reading. Despite the clutter on the table, I relish the views of the trees, four bird feeders, and the field of wild flowers, the fruit of my husband's sowing boxes of wild flower seeds the first four summers we came out here for vacations.
I now take the time to unwind, to simply appreciate the beauty of all that surrounds us here. I also write, read or talk with my husband or the kids when they call. Echoing Thoreau, I purpose to live "intentionally" in these woods. And I try to process what I read, see or hear and not just drink in ever increasing draughts from our information-laden society. I'll be posting this later tonight because I'm headed back out to the porch. Hope you get some porch time yourself today.

And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain

2009-07-29T16:20:00.008-04:00

You may recognize the above title as a line from the hymn, "O Worship the King, All Glorious Above." Today the rains came to western Maryland and I, driving home from having had a doctor's appointment in Annapolis, drove through sheer deluges as I came across I 68. So what "sweetly [distilled] in the rain"? Interestingly, enough, I often cast my eyes to the definition of "prayer" from the Shorter Catechism, attempting to memorize it as I drove. Having no DVD player and a limited number of radio channels provided the quiet time for concentration, and I held the paper as, phrase by phrase, I tried to cajole my addled brain cells into memorization.
The first phrase, "Prayer is an offering up of our desires unto God for things agreeable to His will," gives me pause. Precise language impresses me; "an offering up" carries more impact than "an offering." I need to trust God, believing His sovereignty knows and ordains "things agreeable to His will," events that will bring Him glory and conform me more to His image. Fine, when all goes well, but what about the 34-year-old dad who died? That death returns me to meditating and surrendering my idea of how things should go "to God for things agreeable to His will." May the rain on the daisies help distill such a prayer offering.

Fragility of Life

2009-07-27T14:03:00.004-04:00

Breezes atop Winding Ridge blow most days, but on Sunday afternoons I pay better attention. I watch sunshine peeking through windows and casting shadows on the wood walls; I contemplate more of what's important and less of what's impending in the upcoming week. My older son and his wife have attended the funeral of a 34-year-old friend who leaves a wife and two children to face life without him. That's a bitter pill in this life, but will we treat our spouse with more love and appreciation in the everyday happenings of life a few days from now? We are such forgetful creatures. But for right now, on this ridge where I live, the stirrings of love for my husband of 41 years blow over me and remind me to love with gale force.