For God So Loved

Walker ignores the dickens out of me when I tell him I love him. I do this often. He can be playing, sitting in his car seat, eating, doing something silly or sweet, or just being. Most of the time, he doesn’t even look up or acknowledge my voice. If I grab him up and smother him with kisses, he just squirms and tries to get away. Cuddle with him? Ha! The boy is not interested in Granny’s expressions of love. Except…

Except when he hurts. Just let him fall down or bump his little hard head. Then he wants me, my hugs, my kisses on where it hurts. But once the momentary pain has passed, so has he. On to the next big adventure. He knows Granny is there when he hurts. But there’s too much to do to bask in this love for long.

Oh sure, we have good times. Sometimes, out of the blue, Walker reaches up and kisses me. Or he will bring my hand to his cherub bud lips for a quick smooch. When it’s time to say goodbye, he’ll “give me some love.” This consists of allowing himself to be hugged, offering his cheek for a kiss, and sometimes patting my arm. Often he’ll rest his sweet little head on my shoulder, but only briefly. Remember: he’s a busy man!

So, does this remind you of anyone? Perhaps yourself? It sure does remind me of me. God loves me so much! He tells me over and over in a variety of ways throughout my day. Sometimes it’s an audible voice; other times it’s in the way He responds to my needs. When I fall down in my daily walk, when I get boo boos that hurt, He is the first One I go running to. I’ll let Him hold me and comfort me, kiss the pains away. Sometimes I will linger because it feels so good to be in His arms. But what about the other times, the times when I am too busy to pay attention to His sweet expressions of love? The times at night when I finally give Him my undivided attention while I pray and tell Him what I need tomorrow and, oh yeah, thanks for what You did today? Too many times I give Him only enough love in return to "do my duty" in keeping the peace.

What about the times throughout the day when I am not doing anything spectacular and just, out of the blue, He whispers He loves me? I tend to be like Walker and just go on about my business. The gentle touches, the helping hand that I don’t always acknowledge but sure expect to be there when I am climbing up my steps. The blankie being pulled up over me so that I stay warm. Making sure my cup is filled. Ahh, how my blessings runneth over.

These gestures are only a sampling of what I do—consciously and unconsciously—for my loved one. How wonderful that the expressions our Lord uses are always thought about, always ready, and always filled with love!

Inconvenient Tears

Inconvenient tears fall
At inconvenient times
While driving down the road
or when a song comes on the radio that I haven't heard in a while
that makes me remember you

How am I supposed to drive through the torrents that are streaming from my eyes
or how am I supposed to nod at the person next to me in traffic and act as though my heart isn't suddenly breaking

These tears come at chance moments and I still find that I am not prepared for the loss I feel when the sudden jolts hit
It's been a year now since you left
It's been a year since...
It doesn't make sense

Timing is everything, or so some say
Our time is gone
You are gone
Why is it that now, when I have the time, the opportunity to mourn, the tears are hiding, waiting to ambush me, wanting to catch me off guard so that I can once again cry
inconvenient tears






Written in memory of Mary Byrd, my sister, who passed away August 28, 2008.

In Sickness and in Health

Usually one hears these words at a marriage ceremony. The bride and the groom vow to love one another, basically no matter what comes, what life throws at them, they will always be there for one another. Lately though, I’ve been pondering these words as a testament of a love for anyone, not just of the romantic sort.

For instance, many people get into fusses, spats, and alienate themselves from one another, refusing to forgive, to make up, to be a part of a friendship. Whether the argument is over a small incident or of a more lasting hurt, the two parties involved will not on this side of God’s heaven make up. Until. Until a sickness or perhaps near death experience occurs. Suddenly, for some, the rules change. Nothing is too bad to be forgiven. I can’t believe I’ve wasted all this time being upset over blah blah blah. Please don’t die and leave me behind with all of this angst. Please forgive me. The list goes on and on.

So, what is one to do? Why does the thought of someone dying or being hospitalized somehow entitle this temporary stay of execution to be had? Why is sickness somehow relegated to overcome pride yet if one is healthy the attempt is rarely made? Why if the love is there can it not show itself in sickness and in health?

Guilt is my guess. The thought of the loved one dying is overcome by feelings of regret, hopes of reconciliation, or some other nonsense that is clouded by emotion rather than truth. It always amazes me how many people can find time to attend a funeral but not time to visit when their family member is alive and well (or maybe sick, in a nursing home, or just at home wondering if anyone really cares). Oh, the crocodile tears, the sharing of how wonderful this soul was and how I wish I could have been there for him/her. The excuses abound as to why attention couldn’t be paid during the good times, the times when presence was needed, and the loved one could actually know s/he was indeed loved.

The good thing for me is that God doesn’t see things this way. He’s always ready to forgive, to accept the sheep back into the flock, to extend His hand of warmth and acceptance when we call upon His name. He’s not cynical and dispassionate as I tend to be. He loves unconditionally: in sickness and in health. Though He’s been neglected, forgotten, disdained, disowned, and a myriad of other actions we—His children!!—put Him through, He still is waiting, hoping, believing that we will return to Him. He doesn’t hold a grudge. He doesn’t whine that nobody loves Him. God does not play hard to get and doesn’t expect us to flower Him with attention and try to make up for our mistakes with false promises and empty truths. God just wants His children to come home to Him. Sure, He’d rather us come while we are healthy and not so sin-soaked. He’d rather us live daily for Him rather than meet us on our death beds when we finally see the light and realize how much time we wasted on our petty selves. But, in the end, He will still accept us, no questions asked, other than “Do you believe my Son died for your sins, that you are a sinner in need of a Savior, and do you confess that I am He?” If we can respond in the affirmative, then the ultimate reconciliation is to be had.

In conclusion, when are we going to get real about this Christianity thing? Do we have to wait until death or sickness occurs to extend our own hands of forgiveness, of acceptance, of love? Do we? It doesn’t have to be this way. Pride is a lonely companion to have. Fear is a friend we aren’t supposed to associate with. Despair is what keeps many of us alone in our love-starved existences. Are these really the friends we want? Don’t they always leave us alone, leave us saddened, bitter, and alienated from the ones we desire the most to be with? I think it may be time, past time, to say goodbye to these “friends” and renew auld acquaintances with those we have chosen to leave behind. Is what we have to lose by taking the risk of rejection any worse than being what we are now: miserable, spiteful, depressed, dejected, and solitary beings? You tell me.

February 10, 2009 Morning Journal

Good morning, Jesus! I hope Your day is off to a good start. I wonder: how many people—like me—wake up, tell You what their needs for the day are, read a scripture passage or two, say they love You, then go on about the day, just expecting You to take care of things? Oh yeah, it’s nice to know You are in charge and to leave my cares with You while I busy myself doing stuff. Until. Until I start thinking I can’t wait for You to respond so I begin to take matters into my own hands, tending to mess them up, and then realizing, duh, I really didn’t communicate with You after all. I put as much into my “devotion time” as I put into my weight loss attempts. Yep, I check the scale almost every morning, not liking what I see, and determine to do better, to exercise in some fashion (like I exercise my faith—if my mood is right), to pay better attention to what I eat (if I’m distracted, I tend not to eat-just as I tend to not focus on You throughout the day). I think that I’ll drink more water to keep my body flushed out (just like I’ll determine to drink of the Living Water). I’ll also leave the scale with a firm push to put it in its place—where it can’t be seen—because it didn’t change me overnight (just as I put my Bible back on the shelf after I’ve read it and didn’t get the immediate results I desire). Then, as with my morning devotion, I walk away, keeping just enough hope alive to get me through the day.

Do I exercise? Yeah. I may walk the aisles of Wal-Mart or go to the mailbox. Hmn. In comparison, I may send a quick encouraging email to someone. Do I keep the bad foods away? For a bit, but then usually cram something else in. Does this compare to my reading habits? I’ll read secular books then cram something “spiritual” like Blue Like Jazz or The Shack into my library. Do I drink more water? Yeah; each time I go to the bathroom I’ll down a cup full into my mouth. I guess this is about equal to my perpetual uplifting calendars that I read each morning, the “Christian” email forwards received and/or sent, and perhaps even the morning devotional that Steve and I read (since the morning cup of water tends to be my biggest drink). Maybe I’ll throw in some 106.9 radio or put some Contemporary Christian music on. Oh yeah, I am so full of the Living Water.

Pardon me while I choke.

Oh yeah: about that scale. Do I check it out more that once a day? Sure. Just like I take my Bible out more than once. Can’t You tell I really want to change?

Ashley Deaver

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Thanks! Current mood: giddy There are some really great people in the world that all too often we take for granted. Perhaps we really just only know these people by acquaintance or maybe we already have "too many friends" to get involved with new ones. Ha! That'd be the day, wouldn't it, to actually believe this fallacy that there could be too many folks in our lives? One young lady I have on my mind right now is Ashley Deaver. I've known her for several years but, considering there are nearly three decades in our ages, I haven't had many opportunities to talk with her. That changed this past weekend at Maggie's wedding (another delightful young--I started to write "lady" but since she is now a wife, I have to write "woman" instead). Then I looked at Ashley's blog and am even more impressed. Check her out for yourself and see what you too may be missing. Another younger (when you are 43, nearly half of the population is younger than you and why do I feel I have to stipulate these people's ages anyway?) woman I am getting to know is one who is in my Sunday School Class named Juanita. She is a true diamond in the rough and I am so enjoying watching her come out of her shell and shine! My daughter Ashley always impresses me. Seeing her become such a wonderful young woman who is allowing herself to be used for our Lord is a joy. Her hubby is doing pretty well too! My Sisters group is growing in each other and in the Lord, which is our goal. I am getting to know new members such as Lisa W., Mae, Ruth, and also getting a better understanding of some of the "original" Sisters (as if! each time we meet, there is a different bunch). Building trust is such a difficult, time-consuming thing to do. It involves letting go of the fear of rejection, possible ridicule, and doing things I don't always want to do. Is it always successful? Hardly. But you know what? I'm gonna do it anyway. Why? Why not? I'm a big girl now. Sure, my feelings will still get hurt. My efforts will often be in vain. I won't always be the first one chosen. But sometimes, sometimes, I am and that feels great! Sometimes I am asked how I am doing and made to feel important. Mmmn. So, in conclusion, my heading is simply "thanks." I thank you for caring enough to read this blog. I thank these ladies and so many more that I haven't mentioned for being lights in a dark world. But mostly, Lord, I thank You. You made us, You created us to bring glory to You. These folks are doing that and I thank You for putting them in my life.

Straws

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Straws Current mood: determined I have been holding onto a grudge. A grudge that I know is stupid. In fact, in reality, it has no place in my life. Because in my marvelous hindsight and infinite wisdom, I realize the source of this resentment is just a family, a family who thought they were doing the right thing at the time. Their methods could have been more to my liking. Their—what I deemed underhandedness back then—confrontation of the situation was not godly, although they saw it as such. Their feeling of being insulted was completely justified—in their eyes—and they did what they thought should be done in order to protect their child from my evil teachings, from me. Looking back, they were wrong. Looking now, it's like the incident didn't happen. It was settled in their eyes and I don't know about their hearts. Apparently, considering how they treat me now, things were resolved to their satisfaction. I used to considerably blame them for the loss of my job but, again in my infinite wisdom, realize they were just pawns. Straws, actually, and those who had the authority over me used them to be the last one concerning my position. Yet, they are still a thorn in my flesh. I act nicely towards them. My husband has become a great friend of the father of this family. He tells me how great this man is, how his life is lived for Christ. I want to choke at this betrayal sometimes. Sometimes; not as much as I used to. For you see, this man was just a straw. My husband isn't really betraying me. He's showing me the way to be, the way a real follower of Christ should be. My Bible devotion told me this morning to read certain verses in Matthew about forgiveness and then to think of one or two folks I need to forgive. I thought, "Hmn. Nice devotion. I bet it might even work for some." I pondered that for another moment and thought "Am I going to continue just being a hearer of the Word or am I going to apply His teachings?" Sighing, I opened my Bible to those familiar passages. I've read them several times; heard them preached upon often. It's time to apply. Great. I have to actually do what the Word says or I will be the one in the wrong. Yes, this incident happened years ago. In that family's eyes, why I doubt they even know the havoc they created in my life, the betrayal I felt by these people. Why, why, why didn't they personally come to me with this problem and let us resolve it without going to the lengths they took at the time and causing me humiliation and despair? Honestly, how dared they throughout the years act like my friends? The absolute gall! Why did they do this? Because they were straws. So, now comes the big decision. I am a different person so isn't it fair to say that they too have changed? This incident probably didn't affect them nearly as much as I have allowed it to affect me. I seriously doubt if they know the grief I have felt, otherwise how can they continue on with their act of liking me and joking with? How can they? Because they actually do like me. They received the result they wanted at the time so what happened in my life is inconsequential. Not that it didn't matter; it just didn't matter to them. Why do I continue letting them have a power over me to make my day one of blaming and holding this grudge against them when their names come up? Why do I inwardly sneer when they talk of how wonderful their child is and the things being accomplished? Sigh. Why am I still harboring my own resentment? I've already stated the obvious. Truth be told, my job was gone anyway. Icing on the cake some would say this was. The last straw. Okay, back to the real issue: am I or am I not going to forgive them for their actions? They haven't asked me to because in their mind, I was the wrong doer. Stay on task here, Stef. This all took place a while ago. The only reason it comes up is because I haven't been an applier of the commandment to forgive. And there are many other circumstances where I haven't been applying what I know to. So, for this one incident, for this one day, am I going to put my faith in the One Who died for my stupidness, for my harm to others both knowingly and unknowingly, for my part of wreaking havoc on others' lives…? Am I going to revel in His forgiveness for the things I haven't repented of and perhaps am even unaware of? How many wrongs have I caused that don't even come to my mind? The people I mentioned were just pawns in Satan's evil game of trying to tear down the Christian community. It's been working but I think that yes, I am going to forgive and change teams. I want to be on the winning side now, the one where love, encouragement, true friendship and yes, forgiveness abounds. The side where people are human, they—I--make mistakes and instead of kicking when one is down, offer a hand up instead. Oh this is tough. It's easy to think I can do this at this moment, Lord. But You know ol' slew foot is going to put me in these folks' pathway and have them do or say something to bring this all back to my mind sometime either in the near future, far future, or both. In my own strength I cannot fully forgive. I'm not like You, Jesus. But I want to be so I am asking You to help me let go of my grudge against these folks. Help me to love in truth and not pretense anymore. And when the devil jabs their injustice in my face, help me to turn my cheek the other way and tell him to find some other straw. I'm not sucking up his lies anymore. Postscript Sure enough, the devil did attack after I made this resolution. But it wasn't by these people. He's so sly; he used another saved person to annoy me and to lead me to feel harshly towards. The cycle never ends. It never will until our Jesus comes for us.

Enough!

Sunday, May 27, 2007

ENOUGH! Current mood: frustrated Category: Friends I've had it. Have you? You put up and put up and put up with fluff and think, "Okay. I've got it under control. I will be all right." And then, out of the blue, no warning at all, BAM! Someone (usually a "Christian") says one thing that, honestly,s/he meant no harm by, that makes you want to scream, to throw your hands up and scream "ENOUGH!" WATCH YOUR MOUTH Are you the one, the "Christian" who unwittingly said the word, the phrase, the comment that was the last straw? Sure, you are the jokester, just trying to have a little fun but it is as someone else's expense. Probably you had no intention of causing the harm you just inflicted. Probably. The Bible teaches us to take every thought captive, to not let any foolish communication proceed out of our mouths. You must keep in mind that you have no idea what those around you are going through. Although they may be smiling on the outside, their insides may be crying, may be dying. You don't know how their hearts may be breaking, how they may be just barely holding on. They (a lot of times) have come into church, into Sunday School, into a church settting needing so badly a kind work, a hug, a word of encouragement, and instead they get the wind knocked out of their sails, the feeling of being kicked in the gut. It's a shock, a harsh surprise that they were not prepared for. They did not have their defenses up because, after all, this was church! This was where it was supposed to be safe. These are supposed to be God's people! What the hell just happened? Yes, I wrote, "What the hell." Because that's exactly where it came from: hell. So be careful with your fun. Be careful with your mouth. Watch yourself. Guard your tongue. And try to think before speaking. You never know when someone has had enough. For the past three days I have been surrounded by people professing to be Christians. For the past three days I have smilingly taken their jokes, their ribbing, their put downs, their unkind words. My husband tells me if they didn't like me and feel comfortable with me, they wouldn't joke with me so much. I agree, for the most part. However, I--the Queen of Wit--sometimes need encouragement too. Sometimes I need to be taken seriously instead of mocked when I suggest things pertaining to my spiritual gifts. I need to be the one feeling welcomed rather than the one trying to make those around me comfortable all the time. So in conclusion, I write this blog to myself. All too often I am quirky and try to get the laughs. This weekend I took the brunt of things that those around me only meant in jest and usually I could have taken it. Frankly, I did take it. They meant no harm by it and truthfully, by doing and saying the things they did, they were actually trying to hide from the truths they learned and already knew about. I know how defense works. But Sunday morning, the man who spoke the words that sparked this blog, the man who is supposed to be a greeter instead turned into a defeater. His words were funny, in his eyes. To me though, they were darts, aimed at my fragile heart, and I did what Joseph did in the face of ungodliness: I fled. If he thought me rude for not bantering with him, so be it. Better to be thought rude of than to have started a war of words that would have led to letting the devil into God's building. There's already been enough of that.

Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers

Friday, June 22, 2007

So, last night my hubby and I went to supper and then to Wal-Mart. As we approached the entrance, I saw a former employer/co-worker. "Oh great," I thought. She didn't acknowledge seeing me. We got in the doors and she had trouble getting a buggy. She again acted as though she didn't see me (although we were right behind her) but I could tell it was getting to her. As Steve and I approached the aisle where we usually go our separate ways, we met. Long story short, she said she had some reviews for me that she had found on her desk--at home, mind you, not at school where I would think things like this should be. She said the secretary had given them to her because she didn't know what to do with them (note to secretaries: when someone is no longer employed with your establishment and you have belongings of theirs, MAIL THEM TO THEM!!!). But here's the kicker: MJ says she wasn't sure what to do with them since "I didn't come back" to school. Of all the unmitigated gall! I "didn't come back" because she chose to not renew my contract!!!!All summer she kept me dangling until finally in late July she said they decided to go with someone else. But that's in the past. What I am blogging about is how some people conveniently lay their responsibility on someone else's shoulders. It's almost laughable what one will do to ease a conscience. Why didn't I say anything to refute her words? I wanted to, oh how I wanted to! But what would have been the point? It's in the past and cannot be changed. She was unfair to me and rather than apologize for all the harm she caused me instead she allowed the devil to use her to be less of the Christian that she purports to being. Which brings me to my next point: battle gear. You know how we are supposed to put on the whole armor of God so that we may stand against the fiery darts? As Steve and I drove home and I commiserated that I didn't have my shield up and wondered why, at Wal-Mart of all places, I should be prepared. Duh, Stef! Everyone and their brother goes to Wally World and there especially I should have my battle gear on. So, chalk another wound up to my own lack of responsibilty. In conclusion, thanks MJ. Unknowingly you taught me another lesson which I will try to implement. You are a teacher in so many ways. I have learned much from you that you didn't even know you taught. You're a real class act.

K-Mart, Long John Silvers, or me

Monday, August 13, 2007

Yesterday my hubby and I decided we'd go see my folks. We called to let them know we were coming. Sunday is usually my mother's day to visit her mother in the nursing home, go to Asheville, and eat out twice in between church services. She does this with my brother and his daughter and it has been their routine for quite a while. Nonetheless, we compared notes as to what we both intended to do and I assumed we'd meet at her house before she left for her adventures. Boy was I wrong. Apparently, Steve and I stayed too long visiting my grandmother and my dear mother couldn't wait any longer. So she packed up her entourage and they left. Did I mention I live nearly two hours away and we rarely get together? Also, it's a two-lane highway to and from the nursing home where my grandmother is housed at. Looks like we'd have either passed one another or at the very least that my mother could have called (even though it's backwoods NC, cell phones do work). I guess the lure of the weekly specials at K-Mart and the thoughts of all that greasy fish from Long John's just held much more allure than seeing her youngest daughter. She did email me to say we must have gotten our wires crossed somewhere and that she hoped we'd try to visit again soon. Thanks, mom. Nothing like the knowledge of not being good enough to delay the trip to Asheville, to do without the trip to K-Mart, or at the very least (kind of an overused phrase in this blog, huh?) to have called with a little more feeling expressed than "oops." I don't know why I am surprised. Just a bit saddened that some things never change, I guess. Being good enough was never my strong suit in your eyes. Thanks for the reminder. Hope your fish was good.

I Saw You

Monday, October 22, 2007

Last Wednesday, I saw you. You were lying inside of your mommy's womb. Your little heart was racing and your posture was that of waiting: you have a lot of growing to do, little one, and you are going to be in there for quite a while. The doctor showed us your teeny tiny umbilical cord. This is your sustenance for the next seven months, give or take a few days. We have a saying we quote out here often, "Can I use my lifeline?" Use your mommy's lifeline, Baby. She's taking good care of you. Do you know how much you are already loved and longed for? So much! Your daddy is so excited and he can't wait to show you all of his tricks. Watch out for him: he's a prankster. No one is safe from his antics. No one. He may get you into some trouble later but nothing too seriously. Your momma thinks about you all the time. Do you feel her rubbing your "home," keeping you warm and safe? Uncle Shaun is the one who has been poking you. He's another one you will have to watch out for! Grampa has been doing a bit of praying for you. He's the one who is going to make your world a better place. He had a good teacher and I guarantee you that when he is around, no one will mess with you! He's also the one you can count on for unconditional love and support. Baby, you are one blessed child to have him as your grampa! And me? Who am I? Well, you can call me Granny. Really, you can call me whatever you want--as long as it isn't inspired by your daddy. He'll have you calling me "Granny Snef" or some other thing that I probably shouldn't put down on paper. Regardless, I am also the one who has a vested interest in you. You are my first grandchild and I love you so much already! My eyes tear up at the thoughts of holding you. I've been trying to hold back on getting too excited about you. It's tough! I try not to rub Mommy's belly every time she's near and tell you hi. But when I saw you last week, I was overcome. She was too. Her eyes were glued to the screen and we both just marvelled at you. We got to share this moment and it is one I will treasure always. My baby and her baby. You. Ahh. Well, I guess I will go now. You will be hearing a lot from me! I just wanted you to know I saw you and you are beautiful, Baby. You are beautiful.

Call me Granny

Monday, September 24, 2007

I'm going to be a granny. Me. What a wonderful gift will be mine. My baby is having a baby. May 24 is the expected arrival date so that gives me some time to prepare to be the best grandmother I can possibly be. Wow! So many things to consider. I have to fix the back bedroom up--but wait, what color do I do it in? Ash is only five weeks along so I guess paint choice will have to wait. Hmmn. I need a crib! A high chair. I've got a rocker ('though Casey would tell you I'm off mine). A new scrapbook will have to be started! What else? Clothes, blankies (I wish I knew how to quilt!), and a baby washtub. I guess the biggest thing I need is prayer. I don't want to be overexuberant, meddlesome, or intefere in Cashley's parenting. I do want to be supportive, compassionate, and wise. How does one watch her baby go through this? How can I not be there each step of the way? She's never done this before! She needs me. Doesn't she? Aw, the awful memories of what a horrible mother I sometimes was may make her keep me far from her. May it not be so! Doesn't she know she was my practice child and that I'm an expert now? Look how well she turned out. Surely some of that was due to my influence. Maybe just a little? These next eight months we'll all grow. God, please let me grow the most in Your love, wisdom, and grace. Let me be the parent You are to me. Show me when to step up and when to back down. Fill me with tenderness but not silly emotions. Strengthen me with Your Word so that I may teach my new grandchild about You. Help me, dear Father, to be the best I can be. My baby is having a baby. Wow. What a day, what a blessed day!

Why should He?

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

It started getting really cloudy about 2:30 today. Since the weather has been so nice, my car windows were left down. It continued to get dark so I phoned a co-worker to relieve me so I could go put the windows up. One of the guys came by to check his mail and I mentioned the weather to him. He said he had just checked the weather channel and doppler indicated no moisture. As I went to my car, I thought, "God, why not show those weather people and their modern technology what You can do? You know we need rain." My thoughts went back to the UPS guy saying that our area had less than 30 days supply left before tough restrictions went into effect. "Show 'em all, God. Show 'em Who's boss!" Soon my shift was over and sure enough, no rain had fallen. I was still caught up in God showing us all that it rains on the just and the unjust and I was remembering those folks who had gathered together to pray in Georgia (I think it was Georgia). I thought, "Tonight at House of Prayer, we should do that. We should pray for rain." The Bible verse went through my mind from 2 Chronicles 7:14 If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land. "Yeah Lord, heal our land. Heal Your land." And then my thoughts went forward. If my people will humble themselves. Yeah, like that's going to happen. Just this morning I read about taking one's gifts to the altar and if you or someone you know has a grudge to settle that first and then make the offering. Immediately I thought of this fella at church who won't speak to me anymore to save his life. Like he and I are going to pray in one accord. Ha. Then I thought of his daughter and the grudges she herself is carrying. Ha again. Then I thought of me and what evil I bring into the church each time I walk through those doors. If my people... Why should He? Why should God heal our land? Why should He give us water when we don't even honor Him in His house? How long would it be, if He granted this petition, before we were back to taking water for granted? How long before those who made the profession of being in unity were at each other's spiritual throats and thrusting daggers into one another's spiritual backs? ...will humble themselves...Too many of us are so busy (like my own first reaction listed above) to point the finger at the ones we deem in need of forgiveness, who need to turn from their wicked ways to humble our own sorry selves. Are we reaping the consequences for our poor behavior? Possibly. Probably. If we are, we are still getting off lightly. In conclusion, why should God heal us, our land, and show us mercy? 'Cause that's what He is known for. Will He? He told us how to get a response from Him. Any repenters out there besides me? Anyone willing to get down on his/her knees and confess to the shames we commit on a daily (in my case, hourly--uh, minutely) basis? How low can we go? In my case, I've been to the gutter too many times and I don't wish to stay there. So, tonight, I purpose to repent, to humble myself so that I may be lifted up. And if the Lord chooses to send rain, good for Him! And if He doesn't, good for Him! The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord!

Not again

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Well, here we go again. Sigh. I got the call on Monday morning. My sister Mary was crying so hard I could barely make out her words. Her cancer--the cancer we had hoped would leave her alone--has spread. To her brain. Over the past couple of days she has found out she has 2 tumors. They are on opposite sides of her brain. She was ordered to start radiation treatments yesterday but her brain was too swollen for them to be able to continue. Her doctor recommended surgery but she is adamant that she wants to be cut on no more. So, for the next 3 weeks, 5 times a week, she will go with our dad for his radiation treatments for his lung cancer. She asked the doctor if they could get a group rate. At least they obliged them by allowing them both to get their treatments at the same time so 2 trips to Asheville each day wouldn't be needed. Mary goes today for an MRI to see better (the doctor hopes) how large her tumors are. Sigh. She has been having horrible headaches and has been hallucinating as well. Her newest grandson is in the hospital (he's a little over 2 months old) for pneumonia, which adds to her stress level. If you feel so led, please pray for my sister. The melanoma was tough on her. This won't be easy either. She is 45 years old, mother of 2, grandmother of 5, with 1 more on the way. She's my sister and I love her.

A world without Mary

Saturday, January 19, 2008

I have known Mary my whole life. She is my older sister; well, one of them anyway. She and I have been through so much of our lives together. We went to school the most together, we shared a room most of our youthful lives, we fought the most of us siblings (I also have a younger brother). There were times we shared a bath, a toilet (hey, sometimes those trips back and forth to Asheville were long and the first one to the pot often had to scoot so there was room for two). We shared a lot of things. We once (or twice) liked the same boy. We both liked Air Supply and Marie Osmond. We played on the same basketball and softball teams at Clearmont and then later played b-ball at Mtn. Heritage, although she was much better than I. With her being older, I emulated much of life habits from what I witnessed her and Kassie do. Mary is a prankster. At Clearmont, as we tried to fit in and adjust to life in the country, she used to make fun of our teacher, Mr. Lusk. She said he looked like GI Joe so much that one day he finally asked her how she'd like to write that about 100 times. That put an end to that. I lived in Mary and Kassie's shadows so much, mostly Mary's 'cause we were only a grade apart. I had never been to a school where she hadn't made her mark first. My 8th grade year was the first time I was on my own at a school where she hadn't been, thanks to the consolidation of the middle schools into a high school. That one year of no comparisons was great--until I became a freshman and it all started again. How many times was I called "Mary" or expected to excel in the areas she had, especially in math? Mary got her driver's license and car the next year. I had to beg her to let me ride with her to school. I also had to pay for gas. I couldn't walk in the same door as she did though. Sigh. If we met in the halls, she'd look the other way. The big thing back in our day was on the weekends to ride around town. Sometimes she'd let me go with her; sometimes not. We used to tape songs off the radio with our tape recorders. Whoever was ready for bed first usually got to listen to her music. I'd always act mad but was really glad deep inside when she turned hers on first because that was the rare time I got to listen to her tapes and her songs. She liked to listen to Boston a lot but I wasn't a big fan of theirs. When we were younger, we went to Brownies together. I remember this time we got in a fight and I was slinging my Brownie belt around. It wound up hitting me in the head and I had to get stitches. Another time when we were older and had moved to Burnsville, we got into another physical fight. It was fundraiser time at school and Mary seemed to always have money. This was back when you actually had the goods on hand before taking people's money. She had bought something in a tin can and the lid had come off. After wrestling around on the bed and slapping each other, she pushed me off. I landed on the can. Barefoot and bleeding, I told her I was hurt and to stop. She said she wasn't finished with me yet and continued fighting until I gave up. I've got a tiny scar to this day to remind me of that fun day. One night, Mary came home, crying and upset. It was very late and I was asleep. Groggily I watched as she threw some of her things together and left. I didn't know what was going on, didn't realize she was moving out. It was years later that the truth came out but looking back, that was the start of a loss of innocence that I can never regain. That was the loss of Mary as I had known her: silly, ambitious, carefree, and unhard. Frank Byrd stole my sister's heart and for the next fifteen years or so continued breaking it and/or making her the happiest woman he could. Two children, daughters, were born to them. Frank liked the liquor and the ladies and was a mean drunk. Mary had him arrested several times but kept on taking him back, dropping the charges, and they'd try and try again to make their marriage work. Drugs entered the picture and one night Frank finally went too far. After nearly killing her, Mary had had enough; her girls had had enough. Frank was arrested and convicted and sent away. He got out after a while and continued making her life hell. He still pops up every so often but she has learned her lesson and learnt it well. Mary is now a grandmother, at the ripe age of 45, to three beautiful granddaughters by Cristi and Scott, and two handsome grandsons by Chastity and Jason and LaValle. Cristi is expecting her fourth child in July and--and here's where it gets tricky. Mary has cancer. She has been battling melanoma for the past three years and we were all hopeful she was victorious. Now, sadly, she has it in her brain. Two tumors there and now also two or three have been found near her stomach. Brain surgery eased some of the fluid build up on New Year's Eve and radiation is supposed to be helping to shrink those pesky brain tumors. Nothing has yet been done for the stomach ones, although chemotherapy is being investigated. Long story short, Mary is living on a lesser time span than most of us hope to. Kassie told me today Mary's doctor told her yesterday two months to a year is expected. We three and Ash got together today and had lunch since Kassie was in town. Although snow was predicted, Ashley and I drove to B-ville so I could see my sisters. We had a nice lunch. They both had club sandwiches and when Kassie saw me looking at hers, asked if I'd like a bite. I smirked and said, "You and Mary don't seem to have any trouble opening your mouths that wide but mine is so little I'd never get a bite." Yeah, I set myself up for that one. But it was fun. It was nice being with them for the short time we had together. Will it happen again? How much longer will my world have Mary in it? I cried today. It's been a while. I had lain down with Steve for a nap but couldn't get the pictures we took out of my head. The tears came, hot and furious, while my body shook with pain. He held me and let me weep. I soon calmed but couldn't sleep. So, here I am, writing about my sister. She's trying so hard to be brave! During our phone conversations she has been talking more and more of heaven. I'm so glad she's saved! Thank You, God for making her place ready. While we were saying our goodbyes, I noticed an urn on the shelf above the cashier. It said, "Ashes of unhappy customers" on it. I pointed it out to Mary and said maybe we'd get her one like that. Joking about her urn? Gosh, Stef! But it wasn't as bad as it first sounds. Mary and I have already discussed her final arrangements and this was another opportunity to finalize some of them. Not exactly what I had in mind but it worked. We all group hugged, said our "I love yous," and snapped a few pictures. Will this be the last time I see Mary? If so, it was a good time. Yes, her face was swollen and misshapen from the steroids and the radiation. But she was calm. She doesn't act afraid or bitter. She acts normal. She smooched me on the cheek, if you can call it a smooch. Ever the comedian, she made a loud popping noise against my skin. With others she can be loving. With me, she holds back. But I know she loves me. Even though I have to say it first when we say our goodbyes on the phone, I know she does. Even though she often puts me last on her list of calls, even though she takes her frustrations and anger out on me, I am grateful. She is free to be herself with me. Nothing is off limits. No pretenses are made. She's Mary. She's my sister. I have never known a world without her. And again, she's blazing the trail for me. She's going to see Jesus first. I bet she'll tell Him all those fights were my fault! Good thing He knows the truth though. She's going to get her mansion first. Par for the course, huh? On earth I got her hand-me-downs. She set the mold for my schooling. She got married and had a kid before me; became a grandma before me. She's done many things that I would have never attempted to do. She raised her girls the best way she knew how. She has forgiven much more easily than I have been able to. And she's sought restoration for the harms that have come her way, the wrongs that were committed against her. She's more of a woman than I am. No wonder You are taking her, Lord. She's almost perfect. She's nearly ready. I will miss her horribly but to be with You, for her to have no more pain, for her to enjoy the fruits of her labor I will let her go. She will be safe with You. Take her gently, I pray. She's my sister. You are our Father. It's only a temporary separation. But oh, God, I am gonna miss her!

Hair today--no, wait, that was yesterday

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Well, it's gone. Hard to believe it left so quickly. You can see it in the last picture I posted. Mary said at the radiologist's office yesterday before her treatment her hair started falling out. By the time she left, it was gone. And get this, oh irony of ironies: the nurse offered her a hat that some woman made for cancer patients. Mary didn't say anything but did ask to pick another color. Why didn't she speak up? She was the one who made the hat, made dozens and dozens--probably hundreds and hundreds when she got sick the first time. Her heart ached for the balding patients she had been in contact with and took it upon herself to make a difference. She bought yarn by the shopping cart full and went to work. She'd ship boxes off to different places that they could be used at. No money was exchanged: this was a labor of love. When Mary and I talked when she was first diagnosed with the brain tumors, this was one of the things she wanted to be remembered for: that she cared about others. At her home was a box of hats, almost ready to be shipped but she was still working on some. Oh, the hours my sister puts into these hats. She gave me and Steve one. I wore mine to church Sunday and got lots of compliments from the women, and insults from the men. They were just jealous though. Mary's voice caught when she told me her hair was gone but she quickly regained composure. She's so brave. So matter of fact. Could anything be done? Hardly. So why cry about it is Mary's philosophy. Her daughter is getting her some wigs and a turban. When we were younger, Mary and I used to see bald people and we'd say, "Hey Mister! Shine your head for a quarter?" I reminded her of that and she said she'd thought of it earlier too and asked Terry if he'd shine hers for her for a quarter. See, there's humor in everything if one looks hard enough. I told her the plus side too was how much money she'd save in shampoo costs. She has about five or six radiation treatments to go. She's still sick on a daily basis and tired. Her spirits remain good and she's looking for good news when her treatments end. Her grandkids continue to be the highlight of her day. She may not have her hair, but she still has heart. Oh, God, please bless her sweet heart! Remind her she doesn't have to be strong on her own. She has You and so many others to help her. Amen.

Yesterday

Monday, February 11, 2008

Yesterday instead of going to church Steve and I went visiting. First stop was to see Mary. Then we went to see my dad. Lastly, we went to see my grandmother. Here are the minor details. My sister is not good. This week she was diagnosed with shingles, a common side-effect of cancer. Also, her bladder has fallen and needs to be tacked. Sigh. She is still so swollen. We went to see her yesterday and she looks like a caricature. Actually, more like a snow woman 'cause she's wearing a cap on her head and was all bundled up in winter apparel, trying to stay warm. With her newfound plumpness from the steroid use, she'd be comical if it just wasn't so doggone sad. She's had a cold and a hacking cough for quite a while. I took her a few presents to try to cheer her. One of them was a clear heart-shaped rock with the Bible verse from Proverbs 17:17 "A friend loveth at all times." It's her favorite. I told her I could be her rock if she'd let me. She said she didn't me; God was her Rock. I don't know how long Mary will continue nor what other ailments will come to torment her. I told her God wouldn't put more on her than she could bear and I believe that. For whatever reason she has these additional sufferings, He has a plan and a purpose for them. I trust Him with her. I don't understand all that she is being tested with but I thank Him for these trials in her life and the way they affect those around us. Why? Because it brings us all closer to Him. Too often we forget our need of Him and need gentle reminders. Next, we went to visit with my dad. He was actually in good spirits (Steve has that effect on him). He was pleasant and, although the radiation treatments haven't been as successful as he'd hoped, he looked good. For him. He hasn't had a haircut nor a shave in who knows how long. Remember the tale of Rip Van Winkle? Yeah, that's who he looks like. He will finish this second round of radiation this week. Then we'll just have to see. His prognosis was for six months. That was before Christmas. Other than being on oxygen for his COPD, he doesn't seem to be suffering any adverse effects from the cancer. My mother soon arrived from church and then my brother, Billy, came over as well. His son and daughter Hayley came over a smidge later. Lastly, we went to see my grandmother, who is in a nursing home in Madison County. She's had Alzheimer's for quite a while. She smiled and mumbled (her speech is really impaired) at us. We had taken some Valentine cupcakes. She's always loved sweets and enjoyed hers thoroughly! Billy, Hayley, and my mother also were there so for a while we sat around, trying to relive old times that will never happen again. Mom kept dozing off and then would awaken each time and be glad to see us. Sigh. All in all, it was good to see for myself these that are in my family. They all have their pains, trials, and tests. They all have made professions of faith. So, in a little while, their hurts will be no more. They'll be in Jesus' arms and content. A new understanding will be theirs and someday soon, I'll get to be there too. What a day that will be!

He was my dad too

Saturday, August 02, 2008

As I write this, so many emotions are going through my head and my heart. On Thursday, July 31, 2008, my sister Mary called to tell me my dad had died. Although he had been battling with cancer and his "time" was nearly due, it was still a surprise. I left work in a fog, taking the wrong road home because I wasn't going to my home, I was going to Burnsville to my former home to try to be of some comfort to my mother, who was there alone with a first responder that had responded to the 911 call. I called my husband and my daughter. I called one of my newest old friends; she wasn't there. I called Kim but remembered she sleeps in. I received a call from an old friend that I had been trying to catch up with over the weekend and she prayed with me as I drove on the wrong road, still in a daze. I'm not sure if God wasn't listening or if perhaps the prayer was too short because last night all hell broke loose and God was nowhere to be found in the chaos that ensued yesterday. I didn't belong at the "family" home. I haven't for quite a while although for the past few years I had been taking baby steps in trying to reconcile with parents who had on more than one occassion in my life let me down. With my mother, it was easier and progress was being made. We even have been meeting for lunch sometimes, emailing weekly, and occassionally conversing over the phone. With my dad, however, it was tough. Terse. Tension constantly and the fear...the fear was always there, though it seemed to be ebbing away oh so slowly. I should have left once the rest of the family got there. My part was done. They were all mourning a man they had loved and lost. I was there for my mother and to say my final goodbyes to a man different from the one they knew. But something compelled me to stay. They were all nice to me and I thought perhaps the ice was melting and I was...I was a part of the family again. I wanted to stay and hear their stories, to feel their pain and try to be of comfort. Yes, he was my dad too, but truthfully, I stopped thinking of him as that many many years ago. The reasons are my own but all were aware of them. I honestly didn't know what I was feeling because I was more concerned with my mother and my siblings' feelings, full of trepidation at my niece's reaction 'cause she was really the closest to him, and filled with compassion for my nieces and nephews that had to deal with this situation and their own griefs. Thursday night was okay. I tried to stay out of the arrangements and plans because I felt intrusive. The next morning, there was a chill in the air that didn't just come from being up in the mountains. I wasn't sure what it was but determined that I would leave after going to the funeral home and leave them to their private pains. Unfortunately, I didn't listen to that voice and am now dealing with the consequesnces. Long story short, I was rebuked, rejected, and called an intruder. While my presence there was appreciated, any voice I had was not. Anyone who knows me knows my mouth often gets me in trouble. Last night, it nearly got me punched in the face. And truthfully it would have been welcomed. For you see, even though he was my dad too, I didn't love him. I didn't hate him either, as they mostly all presumed. The lack of communication in my family is preposterous. So many assumptions that we all had about each other were strewn about. When the dust finally settled, we all were wrong. And sorry. And some amends were made but we all cut each other so deeply that even now I feel so much shame and sadness at how out of control I allowed myself to be. We understood the others' intentions and appreciated what was trying to be done. However, at 11:00 at night, after two days of mourning and angst, it was almost too late. I hurt my niece. Physically as well as emotionally. In my anger, I pushed the door she had rushed into to get away from the fussing. It slammed on her elbow and the next thing I knew, her fist was inches from my face, shouting was going on, and chaos ensued. Oh the shame of it all! God, how disappointed You must have been in me. What a sorry example of You I have been. How ashamed of myself I am! The dust settled and some semblance of peace and the hope for restoration is now there. If. If I don't blow it. If I can keep my mouth shut, my emotions at bay, and allow the love I feel so strongly for my family to flow through me. If I can ignore all of my own hurts and sadnesses. Oh, did I mention I haven't even grieved for this man yet? I had hoped at the funeral home to have had a few moments alone to say goodbye but it didn't work out that way. They all thought I hated him. Well, maybe not all of them thought that. Nonetheless, to know I did care shocked a few of them. And then they realized: Stef hurts too. Maybe she is one of us after all. Maybe she does have a right to be here. Maybe maybe maybe... But I'm not there. I'm here at my home, brushing back tears that won't stop falling from my eyes. The visitation is tonight and it's expected for me to be there. I'm sure the emotional level will again be high and the tension will need a chainsaw to even attempt to cut it. People will tell me that they are sorry for my loss; that Richard was a good man, and other truths as they applied them to the man they knew; to a man I didn't know that way. To a man who loved all of his family. All but me. He was my dad too but I never once heard him say he loved me. Never once heard praise from his lips directed at me. He was the man I feared, that I loathed most of my life, that I dreaded being in his presence, and then finally the man that my God told me I was to honor and love. I tried for years to reconcile, to forgive, to visit and make a new start with him. After all, the rest were all getting along with him, seeking him out, enjoying his company. Surely there was something good in him that I had missed so I set out on a journey to discover it. The hate dissipated. I have forgiven him for his sins committed against me and others. But you know, truthfully, it was too late. The times Steve and I visited, he barely spoke to me. His cancer was eating away at his body and he was shriveling up more and more each time I saw him. The times I would call, he'd speak to me for less than 30 seconds before passing the phone to my mother. It wasn't his COPD causing him to do this: he just didn't care. And no, I'm not being whiny. I sat there and listened as he'd take phone calls, speaking for long moments to the one on the other end. Between he and I there was mostly silence. Uncomfortable silence. What does it all matter? Tomorrow he will be buried in his family's cemetery. Tonight he will lie in his casket and I will see him for the last time. Yes, I'll go, be a part of this family that loved him, that saw things in him that were never revealed to me. I'll stand there, looking down on him, and I'll probably cry. He was my dad and regardless of what anyone thinks, I loved him too.

Mary

Friday, August 15, 2008

I just got off the phone with Mary for the second time this evening. Earlier today she was admitted to the hospital. She couldn't talk as much as we did the first time 'cause she kept coughing. Obviously I fret and wonder if this is her nearing her ending on this earth. She told me recently that she'd asked God to not let her die at home, so that her kids would have just good memories there. Are You listening and answering her, Lord? She also asked if she could go quickly. Will she? Did I just have my last conversation on this earth with her? I know I can be a pessimist but no one is here to talk to so I am pouring out my thoughts in this blog. She's been living on "borrowed time" according to her doctors. This cancer has eaten her up and there's not much left it hasn't invaded. Lord, will You please give Mary a good night's sleep, a happy day with her daughters and her grandkids tomorrow when they come to see her? Will You comfort her through this night and fill her with so much peace that she just radiates, as Moses did after spending time with you on the mountain? Whatever time she has left, will You shine through her, leaving those she touches to know she is Yours and there is no sorrow in her homegoing? Help us to celebrate her life and to anticipate our next meeting with her as a joyful reunion. Mostly Lord, will You hold her? I wish she wasn't alone right now but for whatever reason, You have her in the hospital bed with no one else but You. Isn't that enough, Stef? Yes. Lord, You are enough. Sweet dreams, Mary. I love you.

In My Father's House

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Jesus said in John 14:2, "In my father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." On Thursday, August 28, He put the final touches on Mary's place and she is now there, with Him. How happy she must be! Her cancer is gone, as are her fears, her pains, and any other thing that could be construed as negative. She is at peace and the cares of this world are no longer hers. Today, folks will gather to say their last goodbyes to my sister. Stories will be exchanged. Some will tell of things I never knew about my sister. Some will only cry, shake my hand and/or hug me, and tell me what a blessing Mary was to them. Some will express outrage that she was too young, had too much going for her, and that it just isn't fair. They will be right: it's not fair. It's not fair that we get such a reward for the lives we lived while they were entrusted to us down here. Mary wasn't a saint and I imagine she will have many regrets as she stands beside our Lord and looks back at the little she did for Him. "Criticizing the dead? How awful!" That's probably what some of you are thinking but please don't misunderstand me. I'm not putting her down; I'm putting me down. For you see, I too am dying. I have a cancer of my own that is slowly eating away at me and taking over my life. I have the cancer of bitterness, strife, and hate. At times, it consumes me and spreads throughout my body. I have found that when I let the Lord radiate through me and allow His restorative medicine to flow through my blood, replacing it with the blood He shed for me on Calvary, that I am better. I need several transfusions though, 'cause I often slip and allow the sickness inside of me to well up again. As His child, I need to do so much better. Today I will be surrounded by mourners, even though it's called a "Celebration of Life." I will have another opportunity to do some good while here on earth so that when my room is ready and He comes for me, I won't have so much shame when He asks what I did in His name. The disgrace that I feel about all that Mary wasn't during her last days is a reminder to me that my next breath isn't promised and that if I am to leave behind a good report there is much work to be done. I have to be more diligent, more compassionate, more loving and less judgmental. I need to be unconcerned with my hurts, my feelings of rejection and dejection, my petty annoyances of again being left out of what should be a time of togetherness. I need to be the example that Christ has called me to be. Today will be tough as I am surrounded by folks who loved my sister. Emotions will run high and I must be in control of mine. "Thy rod and thy staff will comfort me." I need a good spiritual whoopen to be in shape for the road I am on today. I need my armor on and I need my shield of protection around my heart. For today isn't about me. It's not even really about Mary and her death. It's all about You, Lord. My prayer is to not disgrace You but to be a blessing. May You be high and lifted up today, Jesus. This is my prayer and my hope. Amen.

Letter to my Sister

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Dear Mary: Hey. I find myself thinking about you at the most inconvenient times. I can be watching tv, eating at a restaurant, or even at church and a thought of you will come from something said or seen. When I am cutting coupons out of the paper, I think of how you used to call me to let me know which grocery store had what on sale that week or if the Pizza Hut had some good coupons out. When I try a new recipe or food item, I find myself wanting to call you and let you know so you too can experience it. When Walker does something fun and/or cute, I want to share it with you. When something happens in the "family," I want to call you and us discuss it like we used to and share our thoughts and opinions about it. I look at your picture almost every day. It's still hard for me to realize that for over 44 years you were a constant in my life yet for nearly 4 weeks now you are gone. Yes, tomorrow will mark the fourth week that you left me. Ah Mary; I miss you so much. Even as I write you this letter, the tears are running down my cheeks so that I can hardly see or breathe. I know you are in a better place and I can't wait to join you and catch up. I am so thankful your pains are gone. As I read and reflected over my journal this morning, I saw the times I noted that we talked or that we visited. I am so glad I had that night with you in the hospital when you were first admitted. Nothing remarkable was said or done. We were just two sisters, sharing a room like in olden days. We'd wake up or be awakened by the nurses and chat for a moment or two. It's funny: I went there that night to be a blessing to you, to try to make you comfortable and it worked the other way: you were the big sister again and you were in charge. You made sure I had enough blankets to stay warm and offered me your food and drink. You even gave me a toothbrush that had been provided for you. Later that week when Steve and I visited you, we had another good visit. We talked about some old times as Steve asked you who was "the favorite" growing up. You insisted it was me and recalled some things I had no knowledge of. We laughed at some of the antics Frank caused and of course we talked about your grandkids and what they'd done that was funny. You let me rub your feet, feet that were so swollen and pained. For you to let me do this, they had to have been hurting a lot. And, miracle of miracles, you thanked me--in your round about way. Not directly, 'cause that just wasn't your way. Nonetheless, I was touched that for a moment I was able to bring some sort of comfort to you. The next day, you went "home." Your condition rapidly deteriorated and when I saw you on Saturday, the life was gone from you. You could barely stay awake for more than a minute or two and your words were sparse. I must admit, Mary, that I was mad at you. Others told me how you had talked with them yet with Steve and me, you made little effort. I know-- and I knew then-- that it was because you could trust us with your pain, your weakness. But I wanted more from you than you were giving. I didn't want this to be my last memory of you and I certainly didn't want to be mad about it. I wanted you to tell me that you loved me and that I'd been a good sister and that you wanted me to take care of your girls for you. I wanted you to tell me that I'd been special to you and that you appreciated me in your life--the good, the bad, and the troubled times. All of it. And there was so much of it, wasn't there, Mary? We shared some times that were filled with so many different emotions. Sometimes we hated each other; that's what sisters do. Other times, we couldn't stand it if we didn't get together often. We talked on the phone regularly. We got each other gifts at random times but rarely for birthdays. The next and last time I saw you was the night before you died. It was 4 weeks ago today. You had been moved to the Hospice facility. Your breathing was labored. Your eyes would only stay open for brief moments and the color of them had long been faded. I knew I wouldn't see you again this side of heaven and I asked you if Steve and I could pray for you, could pray with you. I'm not sure if I imagined it, if it was an involuntary reflex, or what but at one time while I prayed, you squeezed my hand. I again wanted so badly to be of some form of comfort for you. When I finished, and we were saying our goodbyes to you as a couple, I told you I'd take care of your girls for you. Steve confirmed that that time you flickered your eyes open and seemed to look grateful. I'm sorry to say that I haven't come through on that promise for you. I have tried to contact both of them but they haven't responded. I'm going to try again today because I realize that they have needed time to deal with their griefs themselves. You know how poorly our family is on communicating with one another. I'm going to try to do better with them, Mary. I am not in the least bit interested in taking your place. That would be impossible. But I am going to try to let them know I am here for them, not as your replacement but as their aunt, as your grand young'uns great aunt, and as someone who loved their Nona very much. I hope they will let me. There are so many things I miss about you Mary. I miss not being able to pick up the phone and chat with you about anything and everything and nothing. I miss sending you pictures and getting pictures from you. When I pass the Texas Roadhouse I always think of you. When we were at the beach last week, I thought of you and how much you enjoyed our last trip to the ocean when we visited with Ashley and Casey in California three years ago. I remember how you accused me of saying you were having a cow over something you did when in fact I had said something to Steve about making sure you had a clean towel. I miss going bargain shopping with you. I even miss you calling me up to rant and rave over things that had crossed you. Well, Mary, for now I am going to close. I just wanted you to know I think of you a lot and miss you so very much. I wrote a blog a while back about wondering how a world without Mary would be. I know now. It's lonely. It's sad. It's painful. I don't like it.

Who am I and what am I doing here?

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Who am I and what am I doing here? How many of us have asked ourselves this question? "I'm so and so's wife, mother, daughter…" "I'm just a housewife, a secretary, a factory worker." "I'm tired, sick, overworked and underpaid." Excuse me. Did you hear my question? I didn't ask what or how you are. I asked who are you? Do you have a name? For some of us, it's often hard to remember that indeed we do. Think about it for a moment. Your name. Imagine it being said out loud. Think of the tone used when it was uttered. No, no; some of you have already drifted to "Momma!" "Honey," or, in my case, "Old woman!" Come back to the present with me. Starting with the lady on my left, tell us: who are you? I'll start so that there's no confusion. I'm Stefanie. See, that was easy. Now it's your turn. So, now that we have re-claimed a part of ourselves, let's take it a step further. On a sheet of paper, write a word that describes you that starts with the same first letter of your name. For instance, I might write "stubborn" because Stefanie begins with an s. Try to write at least three words in this manner. I wrote suppressed, seeking, and stumped. I want you now to write three words that tell more of your role in society. No, they don't have to begin with the same letter (although you can if you so desire). For instance, public servant. Oops, that's two words. But you get my point, don't you? Take a moment to add to your list. The words I chose are friend, audience, and leader. Let's discuss our words for a few moments and learn a little more about each other. Who am I and what am I doing here? I asked you this earlier. How many of you just don't know? I often wonder. Let me share an experience I had on Saturday. While at Wal-Mart, I ran into a former co-worker. When she didn't react cheerfully to seeing me, I called her on it. Turned out her 26-year-old son had been murdered the week before. Needless to say, she was heartbroken and I better understood her lack of response upon seeing me. After we hugged and talked another minute or so, I asked the question that most of us do in situations like this: is there anything I can do for you? She asked, tearfully and a bit forcefully, for me to pray for her. Assuring her I would, we said our goodbyes. In conclusion, the crux of this devotion is this: Who am I and what am I doing here? I'll tell you. You are child of The King. You are a royal ambassador. You are Christ's representative. You are the one who is supposed to turn the other cheek when you've been offended. You are the only Jesus some people will ever see. Wilma had seen Jesus in me. That's why she was able to nearly demand that I pray for her. Did I fulfill my promise to her? Yeah. I think of her often and ache for her. I pray that God will help her with the anger she is surely feeling. I ask Him to help her to focus on the good times she had with her son. I ask Him to comfort her as only He can, for He too lost His Son to murderers. He knows how she feels. Who you are varies from moment to moment. But keep this in mind: no matter where you are, who you are with, or what circumstances you find yourself in, you are saved. You are on display. You are constantly being watched. Are you in shape, ready to be recognized as God's child? He doesn't vacation and neither can we. We must be ready in and out of season to share His love, His compassions. What if at work I had decided to hide my identity in Christ? What if Wilma hadn't seen Jesus in me? It's amazing the comfort a hug, a kind word can bring. It's beyond comprehension what the prayers of a fellow believer can do. Is your light so shining before men that they might see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven? Who are you and what are you doing here?

Lessons from Walker

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

My grandson is teaching me, as I knew he would, so many lessons on life. Let me share the latest. I broke his heart the other day. We were cuddling and I was trying to get him to sleep. He reached up and grabbed my nose. This wasn't so bad until he found my nostrils and started pulling. It didn't help that his tiny little fingernails needed to be cut. I told him "No." He looked at me with this total look of unbelief. He reached up again and pulled. I told him "No," with a little firmer tone. His lower lip puckered up and he again looked at me in amazement. I don't know where the stubborn streak comes from but he thought he surely must not have heard me correctly so he attempted once again to pull on my nose. "No,"I said, quite firmly this time and that's when the tears started. The lip quivered, the eyes filled, and the poor boy started crying as I'd never heard him do before. Granny had told him no and this was something he was not used to and it crushed him like a bug. His heart wasn't the only one that was breaking. Steve came rushing in to see what had provoked this new cry. Walker was sobbing uncontrollably and I was wavering between tears and laughter myself. I explained what had happened and Steve too alternated between relief and humor. That was on Sunday. Yesterday it happened again. As Walker was fighting any attempt of an afternoon nap, I took him out of the crib to try to rock him to sleep. Being the adorable little 7-month-old baby that he is, he wanted to explore and see whatever could distract him from giving in to slumber time. Ah, Granny's face. He reached up to stroke my cheek and then he saw it: my nose. He looked me in the eyes and went for it. I laughed inside, knowing he was thinking he could get away with it this time. I told him "No," and the lip started. A little pucker, a little quiver,and then the hand went up again. I said, "No, Walker." He looked at me dumbfoundedly and with more than a little disbelief. We had again spent much of the day together and I had done nothing but love and kiss on him and try to make him happy. How could I be saying no? It just couldn't be real. So, he again reached for the nose but I caught him midair and snuggled up to him and said, "Just 'cause Granny said 'no' doesn't mean she doesn't love you." He squirmed and I adjusted him in my arms and, sure enough, he was determined to get my nose. "I said 'no', Walker." Defiance glared in his eye and he reached for it again, but I can be a little defiant myself. "No!" The tears, the lip quivering, the hand still reaching. I could barely keep from laughing as I remembered how stubborn his mommy used to be. Then another thought came to me. His mommy stubborn? What about you, Stef? How many times have I told you 'no' and you rebelled? How many times have I gently tried to get you to focus on something else and you wouldn't, you just had to do it your way, just had to have your way? Meanwhile, Walker is adamant that he is going to have my nose and, though it crushed me, I popped his little hand and said that dreaded word again. Yes, it's true: Granny popped him gently on the hand and again, squashed his little feelings into something he just wasn't used to. Oh how he cried. Not at the pain. Come on; you know better than that. He was crying because the one he thought wouldn't ever deny him had stopped him from getting what he wanted. The new sounds of this type of crying was just about more than I could bear! I held him so close and whispered to him that just because I said no did not mean I didn't love him. I said something like "You can't always have what you want, honey. You can't always get your way. I love you so much but sometimes when you want something, I can't let you have it. It's for your own good." Something to that effect. It's hard to remember because once again, the words were reflecting back to me as I could almost hear God saying them to me. How many times have I tried, Stef, to let you know I love you but you can't always have it your way? You can pucker up, stub up, and refuse to listen to Me until I finally have to be a little more firm and tell you 'no.' You can bat your eyes and cry your sweet little tears but I know what is best for you and this isn't it. You can rebel, try again a few days later to see if My answer is still 'no.' You can fight or you could just go ahead and surrender this battle. You know Who will win. But I love you. I love you. So,this is one of the many lessons my Lord is using to teach me through my beautiful grandson. Stay tuned: we both still have a lot to learn! PS I still don't know where Walker gets his stubborn streak from!