Slices of Life – Page 3 – The Welcome Home

The Current Truth

Oct05springhetti

I began working on my new This Beautiful Life journal/planner/notebook, and once again I’m stymied by my answers. I see the designated spaces for specific answers and am reticent to write mine down.

My tendency is to be very tentative about what goals I write (thinking if I write it, I’ll be committed to doing it). One day I might only write a few goals — another day I might write down things that would take two lifetimes to accomplish. My abstract sequential / concrete random thinking style seems to prevent me from ever making a definitive list. Have you ever analyzed your thinking style? There are different tests you can take to determine your thinking style — and I’m sincerely not so sure it’s crucial to do it, know what it is, or whatever, but this might help you understand yourself (and particularly your children — and your husband) better, and help you get why you (or they) do things the way you (or they) do them. Just an idea for you.

So, back to my “priority journal” [Chloe’s: This Beautiful Life] and that box: The Current Truth. That box shows up on five pages. There are five sections corresponding to five priorities. It’s hard for me to narrow down five priorities. Would that be hard for you? So, I’m thinking about my priorities: what are they? Why are they important (or, important enough to be in the top five)? As I think on these things, I have to realize that my priorities and the things I prioritize —by how I spend my time— are not the same thing. That’s where that The Current Truth reality box is staring me in the face like a mirror. And I have to say: wow, my current reality is not where I want to be. And, if my current truth or current reality is not what I want it to be, what I’m doing each day is actually pulling me away from, or destroying, what I want or where I want to be. Every wise woman buildeth her house: but the foolish plucketh it down with her hands. –proverbs 14.1 What I’m doing or how I’m spending my time or money or whatever is quite revealing as to how serious I am about accomplishing my priorities.

You know, there’s another way to get a pretty clear picture of priorities… might be too hard to hear, but ask your husband what he thinks the current truth is regarding a particular priority you have. Or, maybe you have a son or daughter who could give you invaluable feedback. Maybe a trusted friend. Maybe all you need is a pen and paper. Write down your priorities — what they look like at their best and what’s the current truth? Better yet, get Chloe’s book. Honestly, you’ll be so surprised at how life changing, complex and invaluable this simple little book will turn out to be in your life.

So today I’m sitting here, writing things down, looking out over the yard… and, honestly, the way looks stormy and the road looks long. I don’t want to write anything else down and I don’t want to do what I must. I don’t want to commit to anything bcz I so often fail and I’m pretty uncertain about a lot of things – things over which I have little control. And, I don’t want to have another list of stuff I didn’t get to or didn’t do. I relate to the apostle Paul and think of what he says in Romans 7: “…For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not. For the good that I would I do not…” — 7.18-19

But if I don’t press on… well, I sure don’t like where that would leave me — that, and I know I don’t want to be that girl. So… I press on. That’s my current truth. And, it’s because of the Truth that I will do this. I will seek Him and I will trust Him. That, and I truly do want this to be a beautiful life.

For it is God which worketh in you
both to will and to do of His good pleasure.”
philippians 2.13

Each Day is Like Heaven

April06treeringsmall Over the years, standing at the sink many times each day, I’ve seen the most remarkable sights… all the changes each season brings. Through the years, I’ve become aware of what changes will come about in each of the different months. I look for what each new season brings–eagerly anticipating the blooms that will soon appear all over the yard… the tiny new, elegant leaves of the giant old weeping willow tree, the daffodils that will soon dance around the base of that old tree.

Today was no different, the familiar sights were there… the earth pounding with the shoots and buds of springtime… the flitting hummingbirds taking sips from any one of the many feeders around the house. I found myself wandering back in time when little ones played in the yard—little feet stretching out, reaching to the heavens with each pump of the swings, splashing in the pool, volleyballs flying back and forth over the net, buckets and shovels in the sandbox, doll strollers, matchbox cars, tonka trucks and scooters, bicycles and basket balls in the driveway, roller skates down the lane, rubber boots jumping in puddles, snow angels on the lawn. Days gone by. So many days gone by so fast. Sweeter days. But they really weren’t sweeter than these. Just like those days… these are the good old days.

As I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, I was singing as I often do… and I stopped, mid-verse, and thought: do I really live this? Is each day ♪ really like heaven to me? does my heart really ♪ overflow? does He really grow sweeter to me the longer ♪ I serve Him? I was stopped in my melancholy-baby tracks. I had to say: No. No, each day is not like heaven—-at least not like the heaven I’ve imagined the Lord preparing for us. No, I thought, my heart’s not overflowing with that sweetness today. My heart was full of anxious thoughts, discouragement, disappointment and even frustration at different situations over which I have no control and cannot see good as an outcome to some of them.

I worked along… and there I was singing again; ♪ every need He is supplying, plenteous grace He bestows, every day my way gets ♪ brighter, the longer I serve ♪ Him, the sweeter He grows… ♪ Wait… here comes that chorus again. I thought: I’ve gotta get my mind straight, if I’m going to sing this, I’m going to mean it and if I’m going to mean it, then I’ve got to live it, and if I’m going to live it, then I’ve got to turn some things around–or, rather, turn some things over to the Lord that I absolutely cannot take care of, handle, understand… or carry.

housebasket Are you there with me? Are you needing to hand Him your basket? If you are, I totally understand. And, in order that you’ll be able to press on, I’d really implore you to join me in just handing over that stuff… there’s nothing we can do about it all anyway, so handing it all over is really quite freeing. I came across a verse yesterday that says, “And it shall come to pass that before they call I will answer, and while they are yet speaking, I will hear.” — Isaiah 65.24 Truly the Lord is our Jehovah Shammah — He is the Lord who hears — the Lord who is there.

I’m humbled again by the God who is already there… the God who hears me.

songs for seasons

teacuppamela Just recently I was sharing with my church family the many times the Lord has given me a song for a season — songs playing in the theater of my mind in different seasons. Through the years, here in this blog, I’ve shared clips of songs or meaningful words that have carried me through difficult days or trials. Interestingly (and thankfully!), the Lord has often used music to direct or focus my thoughts. When my mind would tend to wander in caves of worry or despair, songs have been my pillar of fire in darkness; songs have been my anchor in tumultuous seas; songs have borne the truth when the enemy has rushed in with floods of lies; songs have pointed to certain reality when shadows of doubt have been cast over my path.

The gift of music! What blessing the Lord has worked in music – many songs – psalms, hymns and spiritual songs! Five years ago, in the midst of the greatest sorrow I’ve ever known, the Lord used a few songs to carry me through each day and night during that season. In time to come I would experience and see very clearly the truth I’d been singing for months: “Anything that’s shattered, when laid before the Lord, will not be unredeemed… ” (Unredeemed – Selah). I will be eternally grateful to What God did for me in that season and the things He’s continuing to work in me from the lessons those days brought me. I needed to be broken—I needed all the lessons the Lord worked in me through that time.

On the heels of that season came another pressing trial when our son Timothy was so very sick. God again used song to carry us: Great is Thy Faithfulness would ring in our ears over and over. The miracle God provided proved this true: How great! O, how great is the faithfulness of God! Morning by morning new mercies we did see! Later in that same year and into the next, I would face another trial… blindsided, really, and yet God had a great purpose in all that, too. On so many levels I needed what that trial taught me—teaches me still! Having sunk to another lowest of lows, another song would carry me through: (Springtime’s Coming – Hopper). For a few months, my husband set this song to play to wake me every morning. Occasionally, at random points in those days, he would remind me with a smile: Springtime’s coming, and the words and melody would again ring in my ears. On an early April morning, I would receive and open a package containing the biggest surprise we’ve ever received. Truly, right before my eyes, “God had the biggest surprise” just as the song I’d been singing proclaimed. It was more than a dream.

Fast-forward a few years: I shouldn’t have been surprised at how another song would become dear and instructive to me — actually a very unlikely song has been invaluable to me. Sort of like the Happy! song the Lord used to encourage me during my husband’s open heart surgery and recovery… that one occasionally had me dancing and clapping along like a room without a roof! Well, this time, the song that is encouraging me was playing at Christmastime (Count your Blessings – Ray Conniff singers) and I’ve needed the little nuggets of gold contained in the song. I’ve needed to be reminded to fall asleep counting blessings instead of sheep.

In a season of change, I’ve been drawn into worry and fretting and, occasionally at the end of the day, into counting sheep instead of blessings when sleep’s been elusive — I smile when the thoughts prompted by that song ring through: “…we’ll kneel and pray to be shown the way; and when we’re worried and we can’t sleep, count our blessings instead of sheep and we’ll fall asleep counting our blessings!”

Maybe the Lord uses song or music in your life to carry you, to instruct or encourage you as He has in mine. I sure hope so.

The recovery road

wesandmeinhospitalbeforesurgery All the information, booklets, visits from the different therapists and the remarks of different doctors in the days and hours prior to leaving the hospital following my husband’s open heart bypass surgery didn’t prepare me for the recovery road. Yes, I’d listened intently. Yes, I’d taken notes and appeared to comprehend all the information they were giving me — giving us.

I guess I was prepared for what they’d specifically instructed me to do when we returned home, but I wasn’t prepared for the other stuff — the other stuff that they didn’t tell me. And now, looking back, I see that there was “other stuff” they couldn’t tell me –– they couldn’t prepare me for what I’d experience any more than the obstetrician could prepare me for what I’d experience in labour and delivery and for the weeks following the birth of our first child. I marvel at the similarities.

Last July, we were sitting out on the deck of a local restaurant enjoying the airplanes, hotair balloons and the beautiful sunset. In ordering the bacon wrapped tenderloin, I obviously completely forgot that my. husband. had. just. had. open. heart. surgery. We’d walked there so that we could keep with the prescribed daily walking schedule — two to three walks per day, increasing the length of the walks each day. But, yes, I shot us both in the foot with that order.

Through the month of July when our first son was born 35 years ago, each day was filled with the activities of feeding, bathing, napping, dressing, strolls, and extended times of just gazing at him while he slept. I’d gently lay my head near my son’s face to hear his breathing or my hand on his back to feel the gentle rise and fall of each respiration. Each day seemed so long but the weeks seemed to fly by — such an uncanny parallel to the way this past July was spent.

Each day we’d wake up early, the sun streaming in our living room — my husband in his recliner, and I beside him on my temporary bed. The new electric recliner gave him so much freedom to get up or sit by himself, but the tone of the electronic lift was like an alarm clock — the operative word being: alarm. 😉 Though he never complained of my incessant, day or night, staring and asking, are you okay? I stared at him while he rested, stared at him while he ate, stared at him while he read. Each day seemed long — much like those early newborn days, a flurry of firsts, busy days just like the early days of the first baby, my days were filled with feeding, bathing, napping, dressing, strolls and staring at my… husband. Somehow the busyness of keeping each day’s chart filled in — assorted new meds, his temperature, blood pressure, walks, water, meals and doctor visits all served as distractions to what was really going on or what had really gone on.

I wasn’t prepared for the new tentative feel to life. I wasn’t prepared for the feeling that this was all very temporary — that at any time my husband would have another heart attack and we’d do all that all over again. I wasn’t prepared for what felt like the loss of the middle years — suddenly catapulted to the later years — the last years. I didn’t anticipate that there’s be potholes on the recovery road and surely didn’t anticipate their source. I wasn’t prepared for the comments and questions I’d receive and, therefore, didn’t have a ready response. Instead of hearing them as simple conversation, I heard them as attacks and didn’t have the wherewithal to give reasoned answers. I took my husband’s health personally and have felt ashamed that I contributed to it being what it is — that I could have/should have made better choices for the last thirty six years and, had I done so, he’d not be in the condition he is.

In saner, stronger, more rational moments I’ve been able to reason that, first, God is sovereign. That’s a sure plank on which to stand. He’s also Lord of my life, Lord of my husband’s life and has been our sustainer, provider, strength, and guide through all these years. I’ve been careful to be in the Word and in prayer daily and to recognize, ultimately, where the feeling of attack came/comes from. The devil knows my weaknesses and one of them is guilt or shame over things that happen around me — that when bad things happen, it must be my fault; when relationships are strained, it must be my fault; if/when my kids fail, reject me, reject the Lord, or whatever: it must be my fault. So also, when my husband’s health failed, surely it must be my fault and to excuse myself in any way would mean I’m not accepting the fact. It’s a vicious cycle — one I’m very familiar with — one that I must work diligently to accurately see for what it is.

It’s a decision I’m not always quick to react with though, and sometimes I’m in the middle of a pothole when I finally see I’ve fallen into the trap the devil’s set for me on the road. And in that place, I must resolve to yield to the Lord: I resolve to rest in His promises. I used to see as weakness what I now see as yieldedness. I used to see as a copout what I now see as trust. What I used to see as naïve I now see as faith. I often wish it hadn’t taken me so long to see these truths.

No one sets out to have heart disease — but I wish I’d grasped early on what it is to set out to NOT have heart disease. Obviously, I don’t even yet grasp this.

Tip Time

♥ It’s Tip Time! ♥

These tips fall under the categories: I’m so glad I saved _____ ; and the category: Ooooo… saved myself a whole bunch of time and energy by planning for future needs! Yay!

Continually in the mindset of thinking efficiently, make a conscious effort to consider the needs of others–your husband, family, etc., etc. ♦ A kitchen log and/or a journal will help you put it down and out of your mind = eliminate worry. Pray the Lord will guide you as you plan, pray He will give you insight for what you need or what you will need.

♦ Planning for daily meals = eliminate mealtime shortfalls and stress; ♦ planning for events = more smoothly transitioning from whatever point a to be, etc.; ♦ planning for future needs/seasonal needs = not fearing for the snow for your household; and rainy days. Sorry, rainy days will come and you’ll necessarily face those with the Lord, on your knees and waiting on Him — maybe in tears, but as you set your days in His hands, you will find solace there.

So… tip time:

♦ Jar lids—-if a store-bought item has a flip lid and fits on a mason jar, save that lid! Consider, some plastic containers for parmesan cheese have flip-top lids that fit regular mason jars — Truvia jars, too… some salad dressings and some tomato/pasta sauce jars, too, just to name a few.

♦ Pumps for soaps/lotions/shampoo — some of these fit other bottles that you might want a pump for. Now, this is just friend to friend advice, as I’m sure there are purists who wouldn’t think of reusing a soap or conditioner pump for any food item–all the leeching etc., etc. = anathema! So, cover your ears and don’t listen to this. I use pumps or reuse pumps all the time———makes so many things easier! From the kitchen sink to the pantry to the bath! As an example, I use the pump from a (costco size) bottle of Pantene conditioner—thoroughly-thoroughly-thoroughly washed, soaked, rinsed, washed and rinsed again—for some bottles of oils I use in cooking. They fit perfectly and not a drop is wasted. I reuse pumps on bottles of shampoo, etc., and put them on bottles that didn’t originally come with a pump. Saves money from going down the drain in the family’s shower. Sometimes I use the pumps I’ve purchased for coffee syrups—I use them on the syrup bottle, but when the syrup’s gone, sometimes I use the bottle fitted with a pump for sauces, salad dressings, etc., etc. This has been simple for me since I was able to purchase a quantity of pumps for a low price. So, all this to say, if you purchase pumps or whatever other time/food-saver you purchase, be sure you save those items to reuse in the future.

♦ Flip lids to toothpaste or lotion or whatever—these are another saver! Flip lids from spice jars—some come without a flip lid/shaker and so I always save assorted jar lids that have a shaker/ flip top so I can replace the lid with the better/more effecient lid. Saving these sorts of lids, helps so much bcz there are so many uses for them. I save assorted sized bread ties and bags, too — along with other things that ♦ make food storage easier. Saving unique jars and bottles with lids is also a great way to plan for food storage — gallon jars with lids make organizing and storing foods in the pantry so much easier. You can also save bottles with lids for juice, syrups, gravy, salad dressings, etc., etc. In this way, you’ll be glad you planned ahead for future needs!! Instead of giant hodge-podge ~~mess~~ bin of “tupperware” or whatever-ware, you can reuse items your food came in in the first place and reuse them for other foods or left overs or whatever until the containers wear out. Or get lost. Or become a hodge-podge mess. Don’t be afraid to recycle. As in, throw away.

The big deal is that you continually learn (and re-tune/refine) to plan ahead and know when to be, and be determined to be, ♦ content with the amount of stash you have—too much and you’ll have oodles of chaos instead of contentment and all your planning will backfire as an unintended consequence. Too little planning and/or stash and you’ll have discontent and waste time and money over last-minute spending instead enjoying the contentment you originally longed for. ♦ Balance. That’s the big deal. Balance.

THM… so much hope

teacuppamela As I press on, on the THM (Trim Healthy Mama) journey, I have so much hope. I have so much hope bcz I’m so not alone and I’m so not seeing this as a diet but a different way of approaching health and nutrition. I say this bcz I’ve experienced so many diets in the past. And the difference, for me, with Trim Healthy Mama (after this, THM), is that it’s not a limited time diet. By this I mean, it’s not the lemonade-type diet or the military-type diet or the mama with a wayward child/depression diet or the zone-type diet or name another type of diet that’s generally undertaken for a limited period of time and eventually the old way of eating returns. And so do the pounds.

Now, why did I say I’m so not alone in this? Easy… thousands of other women are implementing the THM plan in their own lives and homes and numerous websites, Facebook groups and Pinterest pins are dedicated to THM. Women all over are sharing their successes, before and after’s, struggles, plans, recipes, suggestions and enthusiastic encouragement with relative strangers–but not strangers really, who’re traveling the same journey. Shared experiences give hope… shared understanding gives hope… all this gives women the motivation to press on. All this, and more, keeps me pressing on.

I’d hazard to guess that for a lot of women who seriously undertake the THM plan, there comes some sort of a day of reckoning, a day or time where they recognize that food and excess weight and out of control eating is symptomatic of deeper issues—things the Lord intends bring to the light and to help deal with—and what originally interested them in doing a new thing to lose weight, a different diet or whatever is not what keeps them on plan. What keeps them (and now, me) on plan is the daily journey to health and yielding to the Lord the area of food and its stronghold–or previous stronghold.

I’m finding incredible freedom in not eating everything I want — freedom in recognizing that food had a stronghold on me and day by day I’m seeing this stronghold’s grip diminishing. The Lord’s addressing some areas that don’t seem to have anything to do with food–but yet food’s been the outward stronghold. See, here’s an example… I so often ~~don’t~~ didn’t want to “diet” bcz I love, love, love café mochas. Love em. ~~Drink~~ drank ’em every morning. Yes, plural. Yes, every morning. Hot milk, two pumps of chocolate and a long shot of coffee. Drink, rinse, repeat. Didn’t want to give ’em up—–couldn’t give ’em up—-wouldn’t give ’em up. But I began to recognize that my delights were harming me–too much sugar was causing problems and I knew I needed to make some changes. I was loving the sugar but it wasn’t loving me back. And isn’t that how sin is? We give in and it mockingly smacks us on the backside.

Looking back, I really think I thought I’d make some changes and get on track and then be able to go back to the same ol’ same ol’ ways (especially since I’ve done this soooo many times). That was foolishness–and I know it. I really know it now. Greater than all that, I now also know that the Lord was putting His finger on some deeper matters, using all of this to help me be willing to deal with other non-food related issues. It is His mercy and lovingkindness to bring us to these places of correction and brokenness in our walk with Him. It is for freedom He set us free. I’d lost sight of that somewhere along the way.

Interestingly, what eventually brought me to THM began with that search for health remedies. Still struggling with some ongoing health issues, still searching for solutions, I began to see frequent connections with the Trim Healthy Mama book. Some of my Google searches for low/no sugar or low glycemic index recipes took me to a few blogs/sites I thoroughly enjoy today — I didn’t initially see the THM connection! Sadly, over the last year because of family busyness and other things, I hadn’t been tracking along with the Above Rubies site nor the progress of the writing of the THM book—though I’d seen copies of it here and there, recently. Additionally, I regret I hadn’t been in close touch with local friends who where already working the THM plan, else I might’ve had some questions answered earlier and I might’ve had some health issues addressed earlier, too. But I have to continually affirm: I’m pressing on; no worries, I’m simply glad for the opportunity to have this book in hand now and I’m pressing on (with thousands of other women! ~smile~). I have so much hope… and I’m pressing on.

Love what you do.

teacuppamela You’ve likely heard the phrase: “Do what you love, love what you do.” Well… I got to thinking about that phrase sometime back and thought: one can’t always do that. And then I thought, maybe I feel like I can’t always do what I love [to do], but I can learn to love what I do (and change my whole outlook in the process). And so there was a turning point in my journey. One of many turning points. :o)

Lemme give you an example. Just this morning, I came into the kitchen planning to unload/reload my dishwasher (and to check out the horrific noise it makes when it’s running) and, upon opening the door, immediately coming to mind was the thought that this dishwasher smells bad. Smells awful, really. So I emptied the dishwasher and took out the racks. There was gummy-dirt in the crevices – what?!?!? This is a dishwasher — a stainless-steel interior that has multiple sprayers in it. How could the rack’s crevices be dirty? I took the racks out and put them in the bathtub and sprayed them down with cleaner. I proceeded back to the offending dishwasher and began to dismantle the sprayer and the spinner deal. I sprayed them with cleaner, too. I scrubbed the gasket… gunk was in the gasket of the hinged part of the door. Well, bleck. And then I thought…. and thought…. and it dawned on me that I could love to do just about any job — because it struck me, I’m not necessarily doing these things because I love to do them specifically — I do them because I love who I do them for — I love to have things be taken care of — not just for myself, but for my family, I love for my family to have their things properly cared for and I want my husband’s home to be a blessing to him. So, essentially, I do what I love and I love what I do.

Maybe a couple of you remember when I needed an attitude adjustment regarding laundry a few years ago (yes, it’s been that long). My husband asked me to just do it as a service to our family, not murmuring, not reminding them they were told to put the laundry in the hamper, not counting the numerous items — just cheerfully do the laundry. And from that moment, I have sought to do it that way. And I marvel at how a simple decision completely changes one’s outlook (and thinking!). You see, I decided that’s exactly what I’d do. And I did… and do. And I type this to the hum and the click, click, clicking of rivets and snaps whirling around in the dryer. I do a lot of laundry every day, so I get a lot of time to consider the decisions I make.

On any given day, I fetch things for others, pray and sing songs, I mend things, wash and iron, pray and carry sorrows, plant and dig up, listen and advise, fill cracks, pick up shatters, pray and dream dreams, clean up messes, make bigger ones and clean them all up again. I’m home. I do what I love and love what I do.

A few minutes ago, I looked up on the “white-board” to see a freshly written note: “We love our mom…. WLOM” And I thought: this is why I do what I love. This is why I love what I do.

The First Seat on the Right Side of the Center Aisle

I wrote the following a few years after our firstborn son was married in 1998. Thinking back on that day, reflecting on all that’s transpired and all that’s happening currently, I decided to get this out and reread it. The same mama, similar feelings, better understanding… as plans are underway for another son who’ll marry next week. I’m so thankful I’ve had a little more time and a few more experiences so this time is not so overwhelming (and, I don’t have a 2+ week old newborn this time). But the emotions? They’re very much the same. And here you have another glimpse of my life — and maybe yours, too. Continue reading “The First Seat on the Right Side of the Center Aisle”

Savouring the Moments

The symphony of birds, buds and blossoms along with the soft greens seem to sing, Springtime’s here; another season’s underway! With the passing of time, the Lord is teaching me to savour the moments, to watch for the signs of the seasons. I can’t really recall if , or what, I’ve written much about the passage of a season that taught me this, but it was the slow dawning of the reality that the childbearing season was slipping away that first began to teach me to savour the moments.

I think I’ve told you how (early on) women–mothers–would tell me, “…it goes so fast: before you know it, they’ll be all grown up…” and to those comments I would nod in agreement… as if I understood. And, I suppose, to a small degree, I did. Actually, truth be told, I didn’t. Not really. And, further, I recognize that I still don’t really know the whole of it. But what I am realizing this: time really does seem to pass exponentially faster with each passing year.

On Saturday morning I received a text message on my cellphone. Three simple words. Tears filled my eyes as I read and reread those three little words. Those three little words were packed with such hope and elated joy. I pictured the smiling face of the one who sent me the text. I pictured the thrill that must’ve gone into the typing of the three little words. I closed my phone — savouring the moment and what the three little words would become. The text read: She said yes.

Several of us received the same text. We knew this by the flood of texts that followed. It’s just what happens in a big family, I guess.

As I savoured the moment, I was grinning with tear-filled eyes. Standing there, looking out the window above the kitchen sink, I was thinking about that son’s little boy self and how he ran and played out in the yard, roller skated down the lane, did ‘canon-balls’ in the pool, shot things with his airsoft gun and found things to light on fire in the back yard. As I lingered, I thought of the several years he’s loved this girl… I thought of the many times she’s stood right in the same place, washing dishes or having a cup of coffee or tea in the kitchen. I thought of her little girl self… her adorable little girl self. And then, her parents came to mind and suddenly it wasn’t just our boy and bright hopes for tomorrow — it was their daughter and all the memories of her little girl self and times gone by in her life and theirs… many savoured moments, I’m very sure.

Later, walking around our yard and then standing under the lacy green leaves hanging from the giant weeping willow tree, I looked up to see where the branch had broken off — the branch that had, until just recently, held the old tire-swing. I knew one day that that branch would break and the tire-swing would inevitably have to be put away or maybe even possibly would be hung on from different branch… I just never thought it would be this soon. I looked at the branch on the ground and the place where the rope had been nearly completely encircled by the bark of the branch where it had hung for so many decades — the process unnoticed, but further embedded with each passing season. In the theater of my mind, I saw some of the childhood faces of the many, many seasons of the tire swinging from that tree. Savoured moments. More so, now.

The interesting thing about savoured moments is that at the time the moments don’t seem all the glorious. I sometimes think that savoured moments become so — not because of their impact or influence at the time, but later. Silly things, embarrassing things, surprising things, simple things, everyday things. Later on… down the road a bit… that’s when moments become meaningful and it’s those meaningful moments we savour. Those simple, everyday, unremarkable (at the time) moments that somehow capture our hearts and become the stuff memories are made of — the moments we treasure — the moments we savour.

In the last couple of days I’ve had more time to reflect on those three little words… I’ve thought of the inevitable hardships, trials, heartaches ans sorrows they’ll necessarily face. I’ve thought of the memories they’ll make, the home they’ll make together — the joys and laughter they’ll experience and the hopes and dreams they’ll share; and I marveled at the thought of the surprising ways of God they’ll surely encounter as He writes their story. And so for all these things, I can only say, Praise the LORD and pray they’ll savour the moments that come with the passing seasons along the way.

Opportunities Come and Go

I mull over this phrase from time to time as I consider the many opportunities I’ve had, the many opportunities I’ve botched and the many opportunities I’ve either missed or passed up through the years. The missed and passed up opportunities have probably hounded me as much or more than the opportunities I’ve botched. Usually, but not always, I’ve had or take a second opportunity to repair or at least attempt to make up for that botched opportunity and usually (but not always) things have turned out okay. But still, it’s those occasions I missed or passed up — those opportunities are the ones I most regret. It’s probably bcz I’ll never know what could have come out of what should have been. But then… even as I share this I know this flies in the face of my strongly held belief that God is, indeed, sovereign. It is in these times I could be labeled a Calarminian. :-S I know God is sovereign and what will be will be — it’s just that I can’t ever seem to be fully reconciled to that fact in the face of missed or ~~rejected~~ passed up opportunities.

For example: I may botch up talking with someone about the Lord — I may get all intense or neglect to be succinct or whatever and come away feeling like I really messed up that opportunity to share the gospel, to draw someone into conversation and prayerfully into the kingdom. But then I must consider that faith is of the Lord, and that person’s redemption is of the Lord — though He does use cracked pots to pour out His message of salvation and redemption.

My missed opportunities or passed up opportunities have been those times, though I may not have recognized it at the time, when I clearly had the grace of God to do this or that thing and I frittered away the time or I didn’t make a call or I made the wrong call or I thought my way of handling a situation would suffice or whatever… and an opportunity to do good, to help, to encourage, to correct, to confess an offense or whatever was missed or lost.

I can’t go back and recreate those opportunities — but I can seek to correct losses and offenses and as I do so, I must leave the results to the Lord and then I can use those missed or passed up opportunities to prompt me the next time such an opportunity arises, presents itself or even seems to be present. God is mercifully helping me through the years in His loving kindness, all my missteps, my failings, miscommunications, misunderstandings, resentment, fears, regrets, losses, etc., etc., to watch — really watch — for opportunities and seek to not miss them. All these problems, especially in the last couple of years, have surely taught me that opportunities come and go — good ones and difficult ones, and it’s really imperative to daily be in the Word, to daily be in prayer, to keep short accounts and, perhaps above all, to seek God’s will and direction for each of the opportunities He brings my way.

This phrase continually comes to mind: “God does not call the equipped, He equips the called.” So, that being understood, as responsibilities go, I know that mine is to watch and receive, His is to present and provide, mine is to obey, His is to guide, mine is to be willing , His is to be filling, mine is to be poured out, His is to be glorified.

Opportunities come and go… O, that I would be found faithful in them.