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In today’s world of TikTok, Instagram and Facebook Reels, the term influencer is prevalent. I have spent the past two weeks remembering a few “old style” influencers in my life. Women who impacted me in my childhood, youth and my adult life as a parent were my influencers. This mother’s day left me with a flood of feelings as the day ended. I chose to focus on a few female relatives that influenced me with a variety of positive traits. There are so many stories that my children have heard me share about each of these women. I have already written about a few of them over the past two years. So instead of stories, I wish to share a list of positive traits from a few special women.
Mom
- Patience – as a Grandma she taught her grandchildren how to deal with frustration by asking them to spell P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E.
- Perseverance – During her fight against cancer, she pushed through what I now realize was great pain for quite some time.
- Strength – She used great inner strength to make some tough decisions during my childhood.
Granny
- Confidentiality – I learned over the years that Granny was a great confidante to many in our family.
- Dedication – She spent her entire adult life as a wife, mother, grandmother and homemaker.
- Faith filled – Her faith in Jesus was evident by her Bible reading, conversations, and the various saved poems and verses on her fridge.
Aunt Nell
- Hospitality – Aunt Nell was the epitome of a southern hostess – her home was always open for large extended family gatherings.
- Grace – She consistently showed me grace when I needed encouragement by listening to my incessant talking.
- Memorable – Her love of sharing some of my own favorite childhood memories whenever I visited her in her later years made my love of those stories even more special.
Aunt Annie
- Laughter – Aunt Annie made even an unfortunate story into a funny story.
- Perspective – Those unfortunate stories turning into funny stories showed me just how important the right perspective can be.
- “Proper” frustration – I can still hear her voice saying “AH FOOT” when she realized a mistake when hemming many, many of my childhood clothes! This was always followed by her usual laughter as she corrected her mistake.
These women are just a few who influenced my outlook on life. They helped to form the person I am today. I truly wish I could go back in time to make sure I tell each of them how much they meant – and still mean – to me!
“There is a time for everything, …… a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance”. Ecclesiastes 3:1 & 4
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I love the way God orchestrates unexpected encounters. They usually tend to occur just when I am frustrated over my plans not working out. Just as I am near my last straw and becoming distraught, HE shows me that his plan is always best. During the recent holiday season, God gave me not one amazing encounter, but two!
The week of Thanksgiving, a close friend and I headed out for pizza at a favorite local spot. Of course we had forgotten that family owned restaurants were often closed on Mondays! We headed to another favorite spot to find the same thing. After two disappointments, we decided to head to a favorite chain restaurant a bit further away. By the time we arrived and were seated it was near the end of the traditional lunch hours. As we talked, ate, and talked some more, the majority of the other diners were gone. This led to an amazing encounter.
Our server came to clear our dessert plates and I asked if she needed us to free up the table. The conversation that followed was truly God led. This young woman was working her way through college and will be graduating this spring. Her story was so inspiring to me since she was battling – and overcoming – some of the same mental health issues people near and dear to me battle. Hearing her story of perseverance and determination had me in tears – good tears! I told her that God had led us to sit exactly where we did so that we could meet her and hear her story. Our paths crossed just when I needed them to.
Two weeks later, on a search for an item on a kids wish list, my husband and I experienced a similar God designed encounter. On what I thought would be an easy trip to find socks for this young boy, we reluctantly ended up at our fourth store of the day! It was just before closing time and only a few cars were in the parking lot of the small store. As we neared the door, my husband opened it for me just as a customer was ready to exit the store. The customer motioned me inside first before heading to his car. My husband noticed his Air Force Veteran tag and thanked him for his service as he shared that he too was an Air Force veteran.
Within minutes we heard the gentleman talking to us from the end of the aisle asking my husband if a certain car out front was ours. Once we confirmed it was, the gentleman began going on and on about items flashing on the front of the car. Soon, we realized that he was joking about the “house divided” car tag on my husband’s car. What followed was a wonderful conversation with this Air Force veteran from Auburn. (Our son is the Auburn fan that divided our Georgia home.) We found many things in common with our newfound friend. A few concerned his Air Force service; but his shared love for Jesus was the best part! What had begun as a frustrating trip to several stores ended with laughter and joy after how God led us to cross paths with this new Georgia transplant.
God’s plans are always amazing when we take the time to allow them to happen and to realize the sweet moments of unexpected path crossings!
“The human mind plans the way, but the LORD directs the steps.” Proverbs 16:9
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My last post was all about the “positive pebbles” in my life. I think of pebbles and small, smooth stones. This post is all about rocks that aren’t as much fun to walk on! Bumpy, pointy rocks that are rough on every part of their surface. They are necessary when creating a foundation for a driveway. They help in water flow under bridges. They are crushed to create other substances. Small rough rocks were a favorite part of my childhood on the farm. Living on a “dirt” road, I enjoyed playing in the “ditch” after a heavy rain. Water was trickling along over tiny rocks and pebbles. Those tiny rocks always looked like iron to me.
In Proverbs 27:17 we read “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” As much as I enjoyed remembering all the pebbles in my life, I am willing to acknowledge that many rocks were sent to sharpen me over the years. I look back at times when my pride got in my way. God needed to humble me. Sometimes it only took one comment from one person to remind me that HE was the one working through me to accomplish things. Just when I thought the road was smooth as a pebble, along came those bumpy rocks to slow me down. I needed to stop and remember how I got here. I knew/know if I trust Jesus that eventually life will get back to the smooth surface. Sometimes those rocky paths last longer than we want. Sometimes they are brief, but bring great panic. Sometimes those rocky people or events have some super sharp edges.
Sadly, I am well aware that I have been a sharp rock for others. My human nature has let my tongue run amuck many times, and I know I have hurt people I love by my words. Some of those people I have been able to apologize to; but there are others that I am certain there are others I am unaware of that need to hear an apology from me. I pray God will direct me to them in HIS time. I can honestly say that I have been blessed and comforted when needed apologies were directed towards me.
I am thankful for both the smooth pebbles and sharp rocks that have been worked into my life. Without them, I would not look to God for guidance or offer him thanks and praise. They all made me the person I am right now at this moment. They continue to help me grow into the person God created me to be. I know that more sharp rocks are in my future as well as some smooth pebbles. With God’s grace and mercy, I pray I grow through each trial and blessing.
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Pebbles dropped in water, such as a stream, pond, lake, river or even the ocean cause what has long been called “the ripple effect.” Others have written about the ripple effect within us and around us, brought on by our interactions with others. I’ve recently thought of the people who were pebbles in my life. While many ripple effects took place long before I reached adulthood, I have been thinking recently about people who served as pebbles in my life as a “grown up.”
A former coworker of my husband calls him frequently to see how we are. My husband worked with this gentleman for 41 years. He was encouraged by this gentleman to move into a dispatch position in the company. That tiny pebble he dropped in my husband‘s lap is one of the reasons we met. You see, I worked for the same company, but in a city three hours away. A second pebble was dropped by his new supervisor who basically dared my husband to come meet me after several phone calls to share work information. Those two pebbles directed the path of our lives together.
I am so thankful for many other people who are pebbles in my life. The pebble that sent us to the right hospital when our premature triplets were about to be born. The pebble that led me to see an advertisement for a new church preschool. The pebbles that guided us during several medical emergencies. The pebble that led the heart surgeon to learn all possible options for a faulty heart valve before operating on our 20 year old son. The countless other pebbles that placed many loved ones and close friends in our lives.
I’ve even been a pebble for someone myself. One wonderful woman shared with me years after we met about the impact I had in her life. It led her to consider a career change and she is now a well loved teacher. Amazingly, when she shared what I had unknowingly done for her, she unknowingly helped me through a very, very difficult week. (I have shared with her how she impacted my life as well.) Such a small thing that makes such a great impact! Take time to think about the people that have been pebbles in your life. If possible, find a way to let them know how much they impacted you. And ask God to lead you to be a pebble in someone’s life.
I can’t end a blog on pebbles without sharing a song from my favorite childhood cartoon. Arriving home from school to watch The Flintstones was always a treat. Whenever the episode aired about Pebbles and Bam Bam’s singing career, my sisters and I always begged our Granny to play (on the piano) their song for us for the rest of that week. I am so thankful for the pebbles that created the technology that allows me to share this song with you. Listen to the words, smile and Let the Sunshine In!
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We have all had at least one of “those phone calls” in our lifetime. Some of those phone calls break our hearts. Some of those phone calls bring us joy. Some of those phone calls send us to our knees. Maybe a few of those phone calls cause us a quick panic – followed by laughter later on! Some of those phone calls were probably placed by you.
Those joyous phone calls we make and receive include – “I’m engaged”, “I’m going to have a baby”, and “I got the job”. All those bring smiles to our face. The joy we feel when we get to make the call is hard to compare to the joy we feel when we are the one receiving the call. As I age, getting those calls brought such a different type of joy!
“When your words came, I ate them; they were my joy and my heart’s delight, for I bear your name, LORD God Almighty.” Jeremiah 15:16
Those sad phone calls that we receive that share devastating news are the tough ones. The early morning call that our newborn premature son was not expected to survive the day and the pre-dawn call that my granddaddy was not expected to survive the day were two of the hardest to accept. But God got us through and gave each of them an extra day so that goodbyes could be made.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Matthew 5:4
Those fear-inducing phone calls we receive when a loved one has been in an accident send us to our knees. The first such call, I heard that my husband had been in a serious accident and had a head injury. That thirty minute drive to the accident site was torture! The second time my husband received the call that our youngest daughter had been in an accident. The EMT’s words “she is stable right now” was very discouraging to us. The three hours it took us to arrive at her bedside were only made easier knowing a good friend of hers was by her side and keeping us informed. (Both my husband and our daughter recovered fully.)
“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” Psalm 56:3
There was one odd phone call that was fear inducing for a brief moment, a little humorous for some time. One Friday night in the days of landlines with caller ID, I answered an incoming call from the Georgia State Patrol in the middle Georgia area. Since our daughter was in college in that area I answered very timidly. I was greeted with this message – “Good evening Mrs. Milner, I am sorry to call you on a Friday night. I am calling from the State Troopers benevolence fund office.” Now, I admit that I hardly hear him beyond the “I am sorry” part . Once my heart ceased to pound in my ears, I gave him the advice of finding a new way to introduce himself!
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Many kids have something that they want or need to help them feel safe and secure. It might be the traditional blanket or stuffed animal, or something unusual. In the years I worked with three and four year olds, going to school for the first time found quite a few of them needing their special item as they adjusted to time away from family. Most of them were able to begin leaving those much loved items at home within a few days or weeks. But there were those rare few that insisted on bringing it every day – which meant they had to remember to take it home every day!
As a child I had a special blanket that was my security blanket as I adjusted to younger siblings. Then came the adjustment of my parents’ separation and divorce when I was six. The next year I had major kidney surgery and clung many nights to a remnant of the much loved blanket. By that time it was in tatters and my mom and Granny had to pry it away from me to wash it each week. I vaguely recall the last remnant being the soft satin edging on one corner of fuzzy threads. Oddly, the one thing I don’t recall is its color!
As I grew I was introduced to Jesus and His love for me. I learned over my preteen and teen years that His love was all the security I truly needed. But I will admit, that even as a teenager, there were nights I longed for something tangible to hold and squeeze. It is hard isn’t it to simply be still and allow His love to surround us? Through the many blessings, trials, and events, I am thankful that I realized it was His love and peace that filled my heart when I so desperately needed them.
So, why is that old security blanket on my mind so much lately? It all has to do with college football, believe it or not! In our house, we are big Georgia Bulldog fans. The past few weeks one player’s name has me recalling my blanket anytime I hear his name called after a big play. Ladd McConkey plays wide receiver for the Bulldogs and hearing his last name is what brings a smile to my face. Because, for some unknown reason, I called my security blanket “my conkie” as soon as I could talk! I was quite often heard crying as I asked “Where is my conkie?” McConkey/my conkie sound very much alike! 🤭 Hearing Ladd McConkey’s name brings a smile to my face every Saturday afternoon.
“You need not be afraid of sudden disaster or the destruction that comes upon the wicked, for the LORD is your security.” Proverbs 3:25-26a
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This weekend at church, a hymn brought vivid memories with one simple sound bite. As part of the worship time we sang How Great Thou Art. Any time I hear this song, I close my eyes and perfectly picture my Uncle Pat. I clearly see him standing in the middle of the back row in the choir at the church of my youth. He would stand in the center – in front of the baptistery window. For some reason this is the only song I recall hearing him sing. Those memories are happy ones. When I remember them I picture – and hear – him singing with a large smile on his face.
Another sound bite came as a memory this weekend. We were attending the memorial service for the pastor who impacted my family’s life for many many years. He led the service for our sweet baby Daniel when he passed away. At Saturday’s service, the small program we were given included Psalm 23 on one side. Reading just the first line, I could immediately hear him reading those exact words at Daniels funeral in 1984. Reading them on Saturday quickly brought his voice to mind as he read those words at our son’s graveside.
Another sound bite that I vividly recall occurred in 2007. Several months after my sweet Granny passed away a hymn we sang in church vividly brought a shocking sound bite. Within one verse, I truly felt that she was standing right beside me, and I could clearly hear her singing away. I burst into tears. Whoever was standing beside me reached over and hugged me, and that meant so much to me. I wish I could recall who that person was! I was not sad that I could hear her singing; it was actually very sweet that the sound was so distinct in my ear. It made my heart rejoice, and the tears were actually tears of joy.
I love how God uses our senses to bring us very distinct memories! I especially love that twice in the past weekend he sent me two very precious Sound Bites to remind me of loved ones and the memories I shared with those loved ones. The added bonus of recalling the Sound Bite memory from 2007 is a treasured memory. Both Sound Bites are reminders to let those who impacted my life know how much I appreciate them before they leave earth!
The LORD is my shepherd: I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in the paths of righteousness For His names sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For you are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; My cup overflows. Surely mercy and goodness will follow me all the days of my life; And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever. Psalm 23
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February 27, 1969 was a busy day for my second grade class. It was a day when Mrs. Willis had the class focus on penmanship in the form of letter writing. Letters were written to a classmate that was recovering from surgery. They were written on the old tan lined paper for early writers. Several of the letters said exactly the same two sentences. A few shared that Mrs. Willis missed the ailing classmate. A few shared how other students were doing, especially in reading. A couple asked the sick classmate to return to school “just for me.”
One letter writer used both the front and back of his paper. He shared lots of information about his classmates. Two girls were really doing well in reading. Others were not doing well in math. And spelling was really not going well. He also shared that he himself got in trouble for stopping up the sink with paper. Oddly, this second grade letter writer said more in his letter than I ever heard him say in high school.
Yes, I was the sick classmate that benefited from these letters. They were written to me following serious kidney surgery. I remained hospitalized for three weeks and was on hospital/homebound for several more weeks. I don’t know the exact date my surgery took place and I never knew of the existence of these letters until after I married. My sweet Granny handed me a flowered lingerie box shortly after my wedding with all the letters and cards that had been mailed to me from relatives and friends. I love to bring it out and read them every now and then.
Most of those letter writers and I graduated high school together. The two girls that were doing really well in reading have used those reading skills. One is a college professor and the other works in ministry. As I read over them again recently, one word in particular suddenly jumped out to me. The word “comfortable” was used by one of the boys in this final sentence. “I hope you are comfortable.” What an unusual word for a second grader to use! His sentence showed he truly thought about what to write. His sentence showed he cared. His sentence showed kindness. What a wonderful sentence.
And the LORD answered the angel that talked with me with good words and comfortable words.” Zechariah 1:13
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During my school years, I loved buying school supplies – especially a new notebook and filling it with fresh lined paper. Of course, during my school years, I carried around a large notebook, books for each subject plus a few composition books once I reached middle school. My favorite purchase was the denim notebook that everyone wrote on during the first week or two of school. I couldn’t wait for the first day of school so friends could write their names on the cover. I recall only having a brand new one at the start of one school year. I treasured that notebook.
The first day was a new chance to make the right impression on new teachers. The first day was an opportunity to make new friends. The first day clothing was planned for several weeks! It always meant a new outfit. For many years my Granny and her sister made my first day of school outfit. I loved those outfits dearly. Then those high school years when friends began to influence my clothing choices had me begging for clothes from the new mall. I miss those lazy summer days of watching Granny & Aunt Annie sitting on the swing as they each hemmed a garment for my sisters and me. The prom dress they made me one year was beautiful.
Back to the fresh notebook paper; which was as important to me as those new clothes. I loved the smell of new paper. The feeling of writing with an ink pen once I reached middle school was a joy. Taking notes in class when the teacher wouldn’t slow down was not easy. But my favorite use of new paper was working out math problems! That doesn’t mean math was easy for me. But when you got to the end and realized you had made a mistake – you simply erased the problem and started over.
That is exactly what Jesus did for me when I asked him to be my Lord and Savior. HE erased my sins and made me a fresh sheet of notebook paper! Naturally, I don’t keep that sheet of paper clean every day – as hard as I try. So every morning I ask for his forgiveness and guidance to make it through the day ahead. Knowing HE truly loves me as I am, but continues to work in me to create the person HE knows I can be, is the only way I can make it through the days that drag me down. I am so thankful that HE gives me a fresh page each morning. I hope you know HE offers you a fresh page each day as well!
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23
But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. 1 John 1:7
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With the extreme heat of July, we have already had one battle with ants. Every summer it seems no matter what precautions we take, when we have either extreme dry heat or extreme rain, we have a day when ants invade our home. (It usually happens when a dish of dry dog food is out.) Coupled with a morning of cleaning and spraying more insecticides and a story from Zoo Atlanta about their new baby sloth – I began to think of the vast differences in the two species. Thus began my research.
The most common “house ant” measures about 1/8th of an inch in length. But my goodness, when they were marching in lines coming and going from the dog food bowl last week, with one line carrying bits of food out, they looked like one very long ant! Research tells me that on a daily basis one ant walks about 300 feet (one football field length) to find and return with food! That is equal to 450 times its size! Compare that to the sloth, who in average is 24 inches tall, and travels no more than 120 feet per day. That is only 60 times as long as the average sloth. HMMM. Ants definitely travel farther in both distance and in comparison to their size!
Ants work together to seek, find, and retrieve food for storage during the summer so that there is ample food for their nest during the colder months. Sloths, sleep for about 15 hours per day and live in Central & South America. Ants on the other hand, live on six of the seven continents. The only one ants don’t live on is Antarctica. Isn’t it a bit ironic that continent has a name that begins with the word “ant”? Ants live in colonies of up to 100,000 ants. Sloths live basically solitary lives in very small “snuggles” – from 10-40 per group.
All this research was done simply to consider – which I am most like? The bible tells us to look to the ants and not to be slothful. I admit that I am nowhere near the ant I should be, but feel that I am not as slothful as possible either. My mind is always racing to and fro like an ant, but my body does like being slothful during my summer break from work! My goal is to become more and more like an ant though! While I know the Bible also tells us there is a time to rest, I know I need to be more productive in my activities!
Which creature are you more like? An ant or a sloth???
Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Romans 12:11
Ants are creatures of little strength, yet they store up their food in the summer; Proverbs 30:25
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It has become a new routine to take our dogs for a drive once the Braves game is over on Sunday afternoons – weather permitting. The younger dog began begging to head out the door to the truck during the afternoon last week several times. When I recalled the Braves had several afternoon games last week, I finally realized that she now associates afternoon games with rides in the truck. So during those afternoon games, she begged to go for a ride.
When we ask our dogs if they are ready to go for a ride, they get excited and bounce all around the living room. They load up quickly and settle into their chosen spots. The younger, smaller dog, thinks she is the boss and she chooses to stand between the front seats with her front paws on the truck console.
She wants to see straight out the front windshield. The older, slightly larger dog refuses to push her sister out of the way and appears to be happy to just sit on the back seat of the truck. Her smile when riding says it all!
This week’s ride had me thinking of a few particular Sunday afternoon drives in my childhood. I recall one particular ride with my mom, sisters, and grandparents to a small community 30 miles north of the farm. We drove up after Sunday lunch to visit my Grandaddy’s aunt. I also recall several Sunday drives about 20 miles east of the farm to visit my Granny’s oldest brother and niece. They had a catfish pond that was the site of many fishing trips. There were also a few Sunday afternoon drives about 20 miles west to visit my Granny’s oldest sister. Drives to the south of the farm were occasionally taken in the old pick up truck with us “girls” allowed to sit in the bed of the truck. The dirt roads of the rural farm areas meant we rode very slowly and enjoyed the breeze during hot summer afternoons.
As I observed our two dogs’ chosen positions on their afternoon drives, I began to wonder if my sisters and I had our own chosen positions on our own afternoon drives. I honestly don’t recall them; but I vaguely recall easily getting car sick, so I probably had a window seat. And just as our Sunni enjoys watching where she is headed, I have always studied roadways and routes on trips. Many times, I can recall exactly how to get somewhere the second time we go. I miss those leisurely Sunday afternoon drives. Life was so much simpler when I was unaware of all the “grown up” concerns of the world!
When I was a child, I talked like a child; I thought like a child; I made plans like a child. When I became a man, I stopped those childish ways. 1 Corinthians 13:11
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When an unexpected event occurs, sometimes it is welcome and sometimes not. When the unexpected event is one of great blessings, it truly shows the infinite grace of God. HE has given me many more undeserved and unexpected blessings than I could ever imagine possible. Some blessings I didn’t recognize until long after they were given. But some were truly so unexpected, that it was evident right away HE alone had given the blessing.
A dozen years after our NICU experience my youngest sister had her own brief NICU event. She joined my younger sister and I in motherhood when she gave birth to twin girls that were just a bit early. Since I had spent many days in the NICU myself, I was granted a few minutes in the NICU with them a few hours after their birth. My nieces were already at the weight that my own two precious girls reached just before coming home from the NICU, so they looked fairly healthy. But I caught a glimpse of one very tiny preemie. Oh the memories that flooded my mind! Oh, the moments of “baby envy” that overcame me!
Over the next few days I truly began to have those baby blues. Our “tiniest blessings” were now 11 and we had an almost seven year old daughter as well. We also were temporary guardians to a relative of my husband and he was right in between the girls at age nine. But the following weeks really had my mind desiring a baby so much that I had phantom symptoms of pregnancy. Which was an impossibility.
After a few miscarriages following our NICU experience, we welcomed a third daughter after two months of partial bed rest with two preschoolers at home with me. Those last few weeks were a bit difficult to navigate. Health issues for me arose once again with preeclampsia during the week before she was born. After many discussions my husband and I, along with my doctor, decided it would be too difficult for me to try and carry another baby. The decision was made to have a full tubal ligation following the planned C-section.
In spite of that, here I was having moments of baby envy. My phantom symptoms increased. 14 days after my nieces arrived, our youngest daughter informed me she was tired of being the baby of the family. She added that she was wishing for a baby sister and had even asked God for one. This prompted me to have my husband pick up a home pregnancy test on his way home from work.
The shock I felt when the test was very quickly positive can’t ever be fully described! Within hours my doctor confirmed it with her own test and exam. The shock we both felt for days left our older daughters with a variety of impressions of the event. I myself cried continuously for that first week for several reasons. I had been on some prescription medications that I worried would cause a problem for a baby. I thought God was sending us another baby because he knew we were going to lose one of our kids. There was also guilt since I knew couples that were not able to have a baby. On top of those thoughts was the very real fact that I was now at Advanced Maternal Age and in the high risk category, especially for preeclampsia.
But in HIS great mercy and grace, God granted me the easiest pregnancy yet! Only a few early labor signs within the last five weeks. I did have the worst case of preeclampsia with this birth, but medications controlled by blood pressure soon after the birth of our baby boy. The baby boy that shares a birthday with my sweet Granny. The baby boy that recently graduated with his master’s degree has truly been the best Unexpected blessing I could ever imagine! All because our youngest daughter had the “faith of a mustard seed” and asked God for a baby sister. She may have gotten a brother instead – but God certainly blessed us all!On a side note; following his delivery via C-section, the doctor asked permission to verify the tubal ligation had been done. Her exam discovered that the tubal ligation was still fully “intact” just as it was the day it was done. HMMM. You can read a couple posts about this unexpected blessing below.
He replied, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you.” Luke 17:6
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In recent weeks, I have been saddened by the passing of two women that greatly impacted me as a young parent. Both women continued to be important mentors and friends for over 20 years while we were involved in the same church. Due to family obligations I was unable to attend the service for the first one that passed away. At the recent visitation for the second friend to pass away, we saw many others who impacted my life during our time in that church family. Her husband was also very integral in our lives for those many years, but due to his battle with dementia, he was unable to be there. Conversations at the visitation have left me taking many journeys down Memory Lane this week.
As I remember particular moments in my early parenting days, I realize I never truly let each of these friends know how much they mean to me. In addition to the loss of these wonderful friends, I learned another sweet lady who truly showed me the most amazing compassion is also now battling dementia. My earliest memory of her was at the funeral home the day we laid our tiny infant son to rest. As she and her husband reached us, she simply hugged me and said she was very sorry for our loss. Then she just remained by my side for some time while I sat in utter shock and despair. She showed what is needed most for many when they lose a loved one – simple compassion. That simple hug and brief words followed by her nearness as I gathered my thoughts have often filled me with sweet memories of a very difficult day.
I hope the feelings I have experienced in recent weeks over the loss of these friends will help me to remember daily to do several things. First: thank God daily for the impact they had in my life. Second: let those that are still living know how much they impacted my life in a positive way. And third: if they are now living in eternity with God, let their loved ones know just what an impact their loved ones had in my life. I no longer want to have moments of regret for failing to stay in touch with precious loved ones. I challenge you to let those who have made a positive impact on your life know how much you appreciate them. No matter how many years have passed since you last saw them!
Remember your leaders, who spoke the word of God to you. Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith. Hebrews 13:7
Then they can urge the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God. Titus 2:4-5
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There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: . . . Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV
In a previous post (link below) I mentioned the various seasons my husband and I have shared and survived in our 40 years of marriage. In all those different seasons of life, we were never apart from each other for more than two weeks at any one time, and that was when the kids and I visited my mom and family during the summer. However, we have just shared a new and different season together – being apart for most of the past ten weeks!
One of our daughters had surgery that required her to have assistance at home for most of that time. Who knew shoulder surgery meant even your “good arm” was limited to lifting much weight? Not me, but I am now well aware how tough it is. I have a new found understanding of friends who have had shoulder surgeries of various types in recent years. Thankfully, now that my husband is retired we were able to be there in turns to provide help as needed.
Since it is just over a two hour drive to our daughters home; we took turns with one of us at home (with our sweet dogs) and one with our daughter (and her sweet cats). When I was off work from school on weekends – and a few school breaks – I stayed with her. When I needed to be at work during the week, my husband stayed with her. After a few weeks, we began meeting along the route to have “date time” at different restaurants. We were also blessed with a few days at home together when my sister stayed with our daughter. For me, it was definitely a time of “absence makes the heart grow fonder” as I realized how much I truly missed him when I was home alone with just the four legged children. All those years when our kids were home, I was so focused on taking care of them that I didn’t take time to truly miss him when we were apart for a week or two.
But this new season has come to an end for now. I look forward to a full week of shared coffee and chats in the mornings and dinner together in the evenings. The sweet notes he left for me when he headed out to our daughters home can now be replaced by sweet hugs when I arrive home from work. The text messages can now be replaced with conversations interrupted by jealous doggies. I am thankful that at this season of our lives, God provided a way for us to be there for our daughter. HIS timing is always best! And HE is there to guide us through each and every season of life – we just have to remember to rely on HIM.
Read more about our various seasons in life here: CELEBRATE
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Each time I read about the Israelites 40 year journey through the wilderness, I have two thoughts. First, I am amazed that they wore the same clothes and sandals for 40 years with no signs of “wear and tear” on them! Secondly, I am thankful that I did not wander around in that wilderness alongside them. But I am thankful for the many lessons that we can learn from their Journey.
While I may not have been alongside them in their wilderness journey, I realize that there have been other types of wilderness journeys in my own life. There are the years when I didn’t yet know Jesus as my Lord and Savior. I spent time wandering around life learning about HIM, but not yet knowing HIM. Later came the years when I was not as focused on his guidance in my life and I simply chose my own way. Even after I fully returned to a life that focused on reading his word, being involved in a church family, and praying for HIS guidance; there were still many decisions that I made without truly waiting on HIS answer to prayer.
How many times do we go to God in prayer knowing that we have already made our choice? Then we turn every sign we receive from HIM around to point to the choice we made? HMMM. Those are the wilderness journeys we choose for ourselves. But there are also those wilderness journeys that we do not choose. The sudden loss of a loved one to a horrible accident. The long battle with a terminal illness that we see a loved one go through. Possibly a long health battle of our own. Whatever the wilderness journey, knowing that God was there to guide me, hold me up, and lead me through, always comforted me. I know that the end of my journey on Earth will one day be full of rejoicing in Heaven.
I could not have endured the various wilderness journeys in my life if I had not known Jesus as my Lord and Savior. He sent HIS help in so many ways: His Spirit to comfort me; fellow believers to provide support; guidance through reading His word; and an unending ear that listens. If you know Jesus as your Lord and Savior, then you too know all of this. But if you have not yet come to accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior, then I hope and pray you soon do. If you feel HIM calling out to you, a simple prayer is here for you.
Father, I admit that I am a sinner in need of your salvation. I know that you sent your son, Jesus, to die on the cross for the forgiveness of my sins. I believe that Jesus arose from that grave and is alive and waiting for me. I ask you now to become my Lord and Savior and to guide me through my life. You are my Lord and I love you! Amen
If you said this prayer and are now a Child of God, find a local church family to help you connect with other believers. If you want guidance as you pray, reach out to me at renez.milner@gmail.com, or find a church leader or a local Christian Radio Station with a prayer line. Find a friend that you know is a Christian. And mostly – rejoice that you are now a Child of God!!
Yet the LORD says, “During the forty years I led you through the wilderness, your clothes did not wear out, nor did the sandals on your feet.” Deuteronomy 29:5
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16
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As I age and grow more mature in my relationship with Jesus, I notice how much my perspective on events in my life has changed. Particularly events that occurred in my childhood. After becoming a parent, my perspective of a few of those events changed. They changed once again as I became a grandparent. They changed recently about one particular event as my relationship with Jesus gave me a new perspective. It is so amazing how one pastor’s words can open up an entirely new way of looking at the past!
This event occurred when I was five years old and went fishing with my dad one day. We were in a small boat on a small pond. Below is how my mind viewed the event at different stages of my life.
Age Five:
I remember we were slowly moving across the water and I saw water inside the boat. I was certain we were about to sink, then die. In my earliest memories, I recall crying a good bit. My dad laughed and said we were okay. But the shore seemed far away in my five year old perspective.
Teenage Years:
As I became more and more angry at not having my dad in my life, I turned this event into a blaming one. I blamed him for my fear of being on boats. I blamed him for a fear of drowning. I thought his laughter was one of not understanding or caring that I was scared that day. Now, by this time I had been on boats in a nearby larger lake many times. So this blaming was irrational, but it was my teen years which are full of turmoil anyway, right? (Read about our reconnected relationship below).
Early Parenting Years:
I too caught myself having that simple laugh when our kids shared moments of fear over something I knew was safe. Things like learning to ride a bike, going down a slide, learning to swim. Those were all events that can cause great fear for young children. But as a parent I did laugh gently at their fears, just as my dad did at mine that day. I began to see my own childhood event differently.
Grandparent Years:
As I watch my oldest child guide her girls through some of these same fears, I find myself once again smiling at the memories. Memories of the fear through my own eyes as a parent, as a teenager, and as a young child. As I age, I see how those fears were just one moment in a life filled with memories that bring a variety of feelings. But I can also see that those young minds view our adult reactions differently from what we intend.
Child of God Years:
While I have fully known I am a Child of God for almost 50 years now, it was in the past week that I looked at the brief fishing trip differently. The pastor at my daughters church spoke on two events in the life of Peter and his relationship with Jesus. When Peter asked Jesus to call him out of a boat to walk to him during rough winds, Peter took his eyes off Jesus after successfully walking on the lake water. Once he looked away from Jesus, he began to sink. Jesus’ response to Peter rang in my mind all day after that sermon! His simple words “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” quickly caused my mind to remember how I doubted my earthly father on that small pond.
My dad had the knowledge that the boat was safe. He knew there was no reason for fear. I now view his brief laughter (or it may have simply been a smile as he spoke) as an intention to reassure, not frighten me. As a parent, how many times did my own children assume my gentle laugh or simple smile meant I didn’t care? As a Child of God, how many times has God gently laughed at me over needless worries? Did he shake his head at me when I feared things that were completely meaningless? I truly can imagine God’s gentle smile and a chuckle at a few particular events in my life. And I can hear him saying “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”
Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” Matthew 14:31
You can read more about my current relationship with my earthly father in this earlier post:
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Tiny hummingbirds build their homes the way God leads them. (I am constantly amazed at how different birds know just what to do!) While a thin branch on a tree is firm enough for these small, beautiful creatures; our homes need a much firmer foundation. We have all seen the resulting loss of beach homes when hurricanes arrive. We have also seen the destruction of homes built on cliffs when mudslides occur. Homes built well inland and on firm ground are much more likely to remain in place for years and years. But even those homes are at risk from fire, hail, and tornadoes.
Despite the possibility of a beach house washing away, a home on a cliff sliding away, or a home in the middle of the concrete jungle burning to the ground; one thing that can guide the inhabitants of those homes through such situations is the firm foundation of Jesus in their hearts. Without Jesus as my rock and firm foundation, several, if not all of the devastating situations I have faced would have caused me to crumple. Much like that delicate spider web in my last blog post. As my blog posts have stated many times, Jesus guided me and my family through every situation we faced. We just didn’t always know it right away.
Jesus himself shares a parable describing the need for a home to be built on a firm foundation. Not necessarily physically built, but spiritually. Here is the story from the Gospel of Luke.
“Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you? Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like: he is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it had been well built. But the one who hears and does not do them is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the stream broke against it, immediately it fell, and the ruin of that house was great.”
Luke 6: 46-49
No matter the location of your home, the most important location is the one Jesus desires to reside in – your heart and life! Insurance may help rebuild a lost home. Emergency planning may keep you safely away from harm when storms arise. But, a life without Jesus as my Lord, Savior, and leader through life would be truly empty. I live each day with the full knowledge that he is with me to help me in every moment I face. I look to him for those needed instructions on how to live for HIM. His instructions come through prayer, reading HIS word and time spent with fellow believers. I am thankful for the many times HE sent someone to show a little kindness when I was only hanging by a thread.
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While looking through some old photos recently, my mind was intrigued by the photos of this spider web. I quickly thought of several blog ideas around the web photos. As I considered which direction to take, I was drawn to one particular theme – those seemingly delicate “threads” holding the web to the trees. This particular web was about 20 feet above the ground and was anchored to several trees near a cabin. The mid-morning sunlight reflecting on the center of the web caught my eye.
I look at this photo and notice first the shiny, tightly spun circular center. To me it resembles a shiny new CD. Then my eyes are drawn to the “dotted” lines around that circular center. It amazes me to see the thick, then thin pattern in those lines. Finally, those delicate looking threads that anchor the web to the surrounding trees. There appears to be five strands. The spider’s web is literally “hanging by a thread” – or five.
I imagine something soon caused the web to crumple. It would not have taken much. An act of nature such as a strong wind gust or a branch falling from a tree may have caused it to crumple. Maybe a bird that knocked a thread loose as it flew by or a squirrel that pushed the thread loose from the tree. Possibly a human caused it to crumple. I can easily picture a young child tossing something towards the web to see if they could hit it. Maybe the spider that spun the web was finished using it and knocked it loose itself.
People are sometimes like webs. Many of us are simply “hanging by a thread” some days. If just one thread is knocked loose, we too may crumple. As we meet people in our daily lives – young or old – we may never realize how delicate their “threads” have become. Or maybe, like myself, you have had days where you were the one “hanging by a thread”. There are simply days like that. But for some, it is a daily battle to keep those threads tightly anchored to something secure.
Many times someone unknowingly speaks without thinking and causes another to crumple. Sadly, there are also times when someone intentionally speaks negative words that cause another to crumple. In several locations around the school I work in, I see this acronym – THINK. It is a good reminder of taking the time to “think” before speaking. Consider these five questions when you are tempted to give a quick retort:
T – is it true?
H – is it helpful?
I – is it inspiring?
N – is it necessary?
K – is it kind?
Our world is full of people delicately hanging by a thread. Don’t be the one that causes them to crumple. Strive to be someone that helps strengthen their threads. Help reconnect those loose threads before they crumple. If you happen to have a day in which you are the one hanging by a thread, I pray you seek support from a trusted friend. Jesus and godly friends have always been strong anchors for me!
. . . encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all.
1 Thessalonians 5:13
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While sick with the flu, I watched several episodes of The Chosen. A particular scene caught my attention – or rather three words in that scene did. COME AND SEE! The words have remained in my mind ever since. The words caused me to remember the time Jesus said these words to his first disciples. Then I recalled when a new disciple spoke the words as well. Finally, it caused me to remember one of my favorite stories to share with kids in my Children’s Ministry days, the Samaritan woman at the well.
Let’s take a look at a few brief passages in which these words are written. First, a passage from Psalm 66.
COME AND SEE what God has done; he is awesome in his deeds toward the children of man. He turned the sea into dry land; they passed through the river on foot. There did we rejoice in HIM, who rules by his might forever, whose eyes keep watch on the nations – let not the rebellious exalt themselves. Psalm 66:5-7
You can read about this miraculous river crossing in Exodus 12-14. The story shares the moment Moses and the Israelites reached the water while fleeing from Egypt. God led them to the Red Sea and when Pharaoh’s army pursued them, God parted the waters of the sea so the Israelites could cross to the other side on dry land! After 430 years of living in Egypt, the Israelites were returning home!
The remaining passages can be found in the book of John.
“Look! There is the Lamb of God!” When John’s two disciples heard this, they followed Jesus. Jesus looked around and saw them following. “What do you want?’ he asked them. They replied, “Rabbi” (which means ‘Teacher’), “where are you staying?” “COME AND SEE,” he said.” John 1:36b-39a
These disciples had been traveling with John the Baptist. Once he declared that Jesus was the Lamb of God, they joined Jesus in HIS ministry. Just a few verses later, we read of other disciples joining Jesus ministry. When Jesus called Philip, Philip went to find his friend Nathanael.
Philip went to look for Nathanael and told him, “We have found the very person Moses and the prophets wrote about! His name is Jesus, the son of Joseph from Nazareth.” “Nazareth!” exclaimed Nathanael. “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” “COME AND SEE for yourself,” Philip replied. John 1:45-46
In John 4 we read the three words spoken by a Samaritan woman to the people in her village as she excitedly shared her conversation with Jesus. She was urging them to meet HIM as well.
“COME AND SEE a man who told me everything I ever did! Could he possibly be the Messiah?” So the people came streaming from the village to see HIM. John 4: 29-30
We read a few verses further along that many Samaritans from this village believed in Jesus because this woman urged them to meet HIM! When Jesus changed the life of this one Samaritan woman, she in turn led her village to meet HIM and have their own lives changed! Read more of her story in John 4.
Four passages with the same three words – COME AND SEE. Each passage is leading us closer to seeing God’s great love for us. In Psalm we see his saving power used to rescue HIS people, the Israelites. In John we see Jesus calling his disciples, followed by one disciple leading a friend to meet Jesus. Finally, we meet a woman who leads many people in her village to meet Jesus. The message is clear to me. As a Christian, I am called to help lead others to Jesus. I invite you to “COME AND SEE” God’s great love for you! Find a church home; join a Bible study group; read the Bible; seek other Christians to help guide you along! Feel free to email me with questions or for support in your journey to meet Jesus. In the Bible, (a paper or digital copy) read the book of John and see for yourself why the Samaritan woman was so excited to share Jesus with her village.
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I love jigsaw puzzles. In the first two years of our marriage (you know, before kids), my husband and I worked on many together. After the kids were old enough to not bother them, I did them again for a while. My husband and I even enjoyed putting a few together on vacation a few years back. But I have discovered jigsaw puzzles on my laptop. It sure beats trying to make sure pieces don’t fall to the floor, get eaten by dogs, or hidden by grandchildren. But I still love the time, effort, and patience it takes to put together a large count jigsaw puzzle. When it could be left out safely on a table, I loved being able to walk by every so often and suddenly notice just where a piece needed to be placed. That “aha” moment of seeing more clearly where things belong. Life is a good bit like that isn’t it? We can look back and see more clearly where things belonged.
As parents, we don’t always have a clear picture of how everything should fit together. In those early years, we focus on just surviving and making sure our children survive. Our skillset takes time to develop. Based on our own experiences and family relationships, we may take longer than others to perfect the skills needed. But by the time grandchildren arrive, many parents have learned a thing or two. My mom sure did some things quite differently with my children than she did with my sisters and me. She learned the same about her own parents when we lived in that farmhouse with them.
By the time my kids were in middle school, my mom had a new way of dealing with frustrations. When they became upset about how long something was taking, she would ask them “How do you spell patience?” Then she would make them take the time to spell it letter by letter. It was actually quicker than counting to ten, but it did make them think about what they were spelling. They would return from a week at her home and share stories of spelling p-a-t-i-e-n-c-e.
My mom came to live with us to be closer to preferred doctors for cancer treatments several years ago. Her use of spelling “patience” became a topic of conversation frequently. Especially after my first granddaughter arrived during that time period. Once I was a grandparent myself, I quickly realized how much we change our thoughts about raising children once we have a grandbaby to love! It also helped me to see more clearly how my own mom had done the best she could with the skills she had at the time. Raising three girls on her own was not easy. Thankfully we had wonderful grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends in our lives. They partnered with her to raise us to know Jesus.
I now think of P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E in many different ways. Just as I remember how much patience those 500 piece and larger jigsaw puzzles took to put together, I also remember the satisfaction of completing them. Seeing a project in its final form is always very satisfying. I think of the project that I myself am for God. Oh my, at the patience he has with me! He is patient with me when I take too long to come to him in prayer – for both the big and little things. He is patient with me when I plunge headfirst into my plans without seeking his guidance. He is patient with me when I make poor choices. He WAS patient with me when I took my time to finally admit I needed his saving grace. He continues to patiently mold me to make me into what He wants me to be.
Towards the end of my mom’s battle with cancer, I began to joke with her every time she asked someone to spell patience. My verbal response became “w-a-i-t”. God is patiently waiting for you. If you haven’t yet admitted your need for Jesus, feel free to reach out to me for help in asking him to share His mercy and grace with you.
“Bear in mind that our Lord’s patience means salvation,” 2 Peter 3
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We hold hands for so many reasons, don’t we? As a young child we hold our parents’ hands to keep us safe when crossing a street. As a parent we hold our child’s hand to protect them from unknown dangers. When romance blooms, we hold hands with the one we love. When we pray in a group, we hold hands to help unify our prayer. We hold the tiny little hands of our newborn babies in awe that they are ours. We hold the well worn hands of our elderly family members as we listen to them share memories.
Hands comfort us with hugs when we are heartbroken. Hands comfort us with food preparation when we have a need. Hands comfort us when we are sick and in need of some tender loving care. Hands celebrate with us when we are excited about that big win. Hands praise God when we worship him. Hands honor God as we fold them in prayer to Him.
The hands in this photo represent three generations in my family. The older, well worn hand is that of a beloved great aunt. The younger adult hand is my son-in-law’s hand, and the tiny hand is that of my oldest granddaughter. The photo was taken when my granddaughter met my beloved great aunt for the first time. I am so thankful my daughter captured this moment! Living three hours away from “home” makes it difficult to visit as often as we all would like. I spent many hours in this home myself growing up and always loved visiting my great aunt on trips home.
Look closely at this photo with me for a few minutes. I see several distinct things in these hands. I see a young baby’s hand timidly reaching out to an unknown hand. That tiny hand is bringing comfort and joy to that well worn hand. I see a fathers hand firmly holding his child so she feels secure. That protective hand shows that young baby that she is loved and can safely reach out to that new hand. I see a well worn hand that held the hands of parents, siblings, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and a multitude of nieces and nephews over the years. That well worn hand is ready to hold that tiny hand of another generation. I “see” the invisible hands of God as he surrounds all three of them. His strong hands hold each of them close.
I made my own quick trip to visit a few months later and I was able to spend a couple hours with my beloved great aunt. It was the last visit I had with her in her own home. For the entire length of my visit, she held my hand tight in hers as we talked. I shared updates on each of my kids, and that sweet granddaughter. I shared updates on my job (at that time) as children’s minister. She shared updates on her grandchildren and great grandchildren. She shared updates on a few of her other nieces and nephews that I had met over the years. We laughed together as we recalled a few of the funny stories from my childhood. No matter what we discussed, she never let go of my hand. On my drive home later that day, I thought about her hands for a long, long time. The comfort, support, and love those hands gave me for many years warms my heart even now.
It was such a comfort to have my hand firmly in hers during that visit, but I am comforted even more knowing God never lets go of my hands! His hands hold me together when I feel like giving up. His hands hold me up when the pain of heartbreak seems too much to bear. His hands hold me close when worry tries to invade my mind. His hands hold mine when I rejoice. His hands hold me gently when I turn to him in prayer and lay everything at his feet. His hands were there when I admitted I was a sinner in need of His forgiveness. His hands were there when I believed with my entire heart, mind and soul Jesus died on the cross for my sins. His hands were there when I finally reached up and asked Him to be my Lord and Savior. His hands grasped mine tightly when I asked Him to lead me through life. I am so thankful His hands surround me daily as I stumble through my journey in life.
His hands are there for you too. You just need to reach up, hold tight, and accept His grace.
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10
“And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured on the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:1b-2
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The vast majority of my childhood memories are from life on the family farm. The farmhouse that my maternal grandparents lived in was the same home in which my maternal grandmother was born and raised. My grandparents bought it from her family after her parents passed away. In addition to a family garden, Grandaddy raised pigs, chicken and cows when I was really young. Before I began school, I recall one piglet that I begged to care for when the momma sow pushed it aside. I remember bottle feeding it a time or two, but sadly don’t remember what ever happened to that poor piglet. What I do remember very distinctly is the location the poor piglet was kept in when I fed it. It was in a box that was housed in the middle section of the barn. It was so much more than a Barn! This barn was our adventure zone for many, many years.
When I was 6 ½ , my mom, sisters and I moved into that farmhouse with her parents. My main memory of the day we moved in was getting my bicycle off the truck quickly and being able to ride that little blue bike for hours on the farm. Now, mind you, I probably thought I rode for miles and miles, but I was simply riding it around and around the house and barn area. After we moved in with my grandparents, the first farm animals to leave were the pigs. You see, I wanted to be with the piglets as much as possible, and as a child I didn’t realize how dangerous a momma sow could become. I was not aware for many years that Grandaddy sold them to protect us from harm. The chickens stayed around for a few years longer, but Granny became aggravated with a particular rooster or two, so eventually they were gone as well. But the cows remained for many years. More on those in another post soon.
Let’s journey back to The Barn though. In this particular photo (which is printed in poster size and on the wall of my home today), the barn was nearing the end of its lifespan. You can see the disrepair of the doors to the three separate areas. What you can’t see in the photo is the backside of this barn. In the back, the roof extended quite some distance. It included several different areas for various farm equipment and tools, as well as one stall area where mules and even a horse had once eaten their daily feed. A very low sloping area held a workbench and a few farm tools. The middle area was open all the way through and served as cover for a tractor and even Grandaddy’s car or truck at times. This covered area with its dirt floor was home to many “doodle bugs” as we called them. I can close my eyes now and remember singing some silly song while twirling sticks around their dirt mounds. We tried hard to get them to “come out” and play many summer days. Return with me now and look again at the front view of The Barn.
The middle section is my favorite. In that section we would find hay bales stacked in the rear half. When they were first stacked up they nearly reached the top of the barn! And of course it became a great place to swing from a rope down to the floor below. Our cousins that lived one mile down the country road secured a sturdy rope to a rafter and introduced us to that swing. I also remember sitting up on the top of the hay bales and pulling my first loose tooth! This was after it had been loose for days and after my refusal to allow my cousin to try the string on a doorknob trick to yank it out. Grandaddy shooed us out of that section numerous times grumbling that the cows wouldn’t eat the day after we played on it so much. I wonder how true that statement was?
The nooks and crannies of the barn were favorite places for the many farm cats to raise litters of kittens. Plenty of snakes took up residence as well, but they were the good kind; king snakes and rat snakes. The section on the left side held all kinds of odds and ends. Broken tools and furniture were stashed in one corner. The floor was rotting in most of it by the time I was grown. During our childhood that section became the home of our very own “Banana Splits Club” for a time. We even had the name painted on the door. I can’t recall the actual name of the Saturday morning kids show this originated from, but we held meetings for a brief time. The section on the right was called the corn crib. It too accumulated broken or unused furniture from various family members homes over time. But it also held corn to dry for planting each year. It even held a machine for shelling the kernels off the cob. I liked turning the crank to see those kernels fall off; but of course, the novelty wore off quickly each time I was allowed to try.
Now let’s look at the roof of that barn. It was a perfect slide, once I gathered the courage to climb to the very top with my cousins. The roof at the back of the feed stall was just low enough for us kids to climb up on to reach the higher slope. Then we would journey to the top and slide down that seemingly steep slope. Sometimes we simply jumped off on the gentle slope on the left side of the roof. But usually, we walked back around the roof to climb to the top and slide down again. Just a few years ago, I was reminiscing with my mom about that giant slide and told her I often wondered how Granny got all the rust out of our pants. She shared an interesting story about that slide. If she was home when we were sliding, she frequently told us to come down. One day she said she was unaware that Grandaddy was working in the tool area of the barn when she told us to “get down from there” and then walked back to the house. She said she was almost to the back door when she heard Grandaddy come out from under the barn and tell us, “y’all can go back up there now.” She told me that at the time she was upset that he was okay with us being up there since it was not allowed during her own childhood. Then, she realized that grandchildren get treated differently than their parents did as children. Yep, they sure do!
While it saddened me to learn the barn was no longer standing, the memories of that barn mean so much more to me than the actual building did. In my memories it was strong, large, and a great place for adventures! The farmland and surrounding area were also home to many adventures, some not quite as fun to recall as others! More on those next week. Those memories show me just how many times GOD was there protecting each of us on our numerous farm adventures.
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In the days following the arrival of our Thanksgiving blessings, I learned quite a bit of medical terminology that I had never heard before. Apnea, bradycardia and tachycardia were the most frequently heard terms in the first few days. Many things were referred to in acronyms and all measurements were in the metric system. It took quite some time to adjust to what a gram meant as far as weight gain – or loss – as well as how much a millimeter of milk was. All three babies had different issues on their journey. And as brand new parents of three very premature babies, we had much to learn, experience, and accept.
Twin A
Twin A is our first born little girl. She was the one ready to enter the world early. She was also the one to benefit from the doses of steroids that were administered during my 24 hours of labor. The first thing I truly understood when the neonatologist and nurse practitioner came to my hospital room to give us updates on the second morning, was that she had the strongest lungs of the three. On the morning I was to be discharged, we were told that Twin A was now breathing room air. Of course, with no prior NICU knowledge, I assumed that meant she was off the vent and breathing all on her own. Imagine my shock, (and disappointment) when we reached the NICU to see her still on a vent. Thus began my first lesson on the oxygen level in our air! Breathing room air simply meant she was breathing the same amount of oxygenated air that I was, but through the ventilator. But not needing extra oxygen was a good thing. Since she was doing better than her siblings, I was able to hold her for a short time before being discharged. She never took her eyes off my face as long as I talked.
She did have to battle a bit of jaundice that first week, but continued to improve slowly each day. To help provide nutrition without the need to start new IV’s regularly, a central IV line was surgically placed in her upper chest/neck area. Sometime around week four, she pulled her vent tube out. She did well for a few minutes, so the NICU staff changed her to CPAP; another type of breathing assistance. The hardest part of seeing that equipment was that it was placed firmly in her tiny, tiny nose. But she did well, for about a week or so. Then, at week six, she began retaining fluid, bruised everywhere she was touched and ended up back on the vent with 100% oxygen needed. Her platelet count dropped to very dangerous levels. She received platelets and all the attention and care they could give her. She had so much fluid under her skin that she was almost twice her birth weight, but not in a good way. I don’t remember if we were given the name of the problem at the time, but I am sure we wouldn’t have truly understood it all. The doctor did tell us one afternoon that they had done all they could and for us to talk to God. Which we were doing, as well as many, many others around the country. Slowly, she began to improve and her journey back on the vent was over. She was back on the CPAP for a bit before moving to a simple nasal cannula for a small bit of oxygen. Soon afterward she developed a preemie issue called NEC, an infection that develops in the intestine. She was moved into a small private room for isolation. She was watched carefully to make sure emergency surgery was not needed. Fortunately, the prayers of many continued to help her and she recovered in record time without the need for surgery. Miracle #1revealed! She was moved back into the NICU and was soon able to resume receiving small amounts of milk through a feeding tube.
Another preemie issue is ROP, retinopathy of prematurity, a serious eye concern. The retina is not completely formed in premature babies and can easily tear and cause blindness or severe vision loss. A pediatric ophthalmologist checked her eyes regularly during the early morning hours, so we never met him . Finally, after 110 days in the NICU, Twin A came home. We learned how to attach a belt for a heart and breathing monitor. We learned infant CPR. We were given all types of instructions, including making an appointment to see the ophthalmologist within one week of discharge. We made the appointment with instructions to call the office upon arrival in the parking deck.(There was a phone near the elevators for use.) We were then met at a private entrance and escorted to the doctors private office. This was to avoid any possible germs from other children in the waiting room. Preemies are very delicate for quite some time after going home. The doctor placed her on his desk and began his exam, which was not pleasant to observe for this new mom! He would look at her eyes, look at his notes in her file, look at her eyes again, then back to the notes. Finally, he turned to us and asked if we were certain this was Twin A! We assured him she was. Then he informed us that he had expected us to make an emergency call to his office at any moment about her. He told us that at her exam the week before she was very near the point of needing emergency surgery to save her vision. Then, with shock in his voice, he informed us that “today, her retina is normal!”. He would continue to follow her for about a year through regular appointments, but she was out of the woods as far as her eyesight went. Wow! Miracle #2 revealed!
Twin A continued to grow on her own curve for weight and height. Since her dad and I are in the very lowest percentile for height, she wasn’t expected to be very tall anyway. She began walking at 15 months (one year, when adjusting for the three months prematurity) and talked a mile a minute by age two. At her two year check up, the pediatrician felt her toe walking and a few other issues might be attributed to cerebral palsy and sent us to see a pediatric neurologist. We had become very close friends with one of her NICU nurses, so I asked her to accompany us to her visit. I knew that she could give him a brief rundown on her various issues in the NICU. And she did. When she told him Twin A had survived DIC, he stopped her right there and made her repeat that. When she assured him she had, he told us that there was no way a 13 weeks premature baby survived DIC. I sat there not having any idea what DIC was and exactly when she had it. As the doctor began closely reading her chart, my friend explained to me that DIC was the issue she battled when she was retaining fluid and bruising. Again, the doctor said she should not have survived DIC. Miracle #3 revealed! I am thankful we were not aware how close to death she ever was. She was diagnosed with mild CP and we had a few short years of physical and occupational therapy. Today, Twin A is a mom herself to two precious (full term) girls. She is a licensed professional counselor. She certainly defied many odds with her survival after a sudden premature birth!
Twin B
Twin B is our firstborn son. He was the largest of the three by just a few ounces. As I mentioned in the first blog about their birth, he was the only one of the three I heard cry in the delivery room. He was feisty and didn’t like being poked and ventilated. He too battled with jaundice those first few days. I remember his special “sunglasses” to protect his eyes during phototherapy. After my discharge from the hospital, I had to rely on others to drive me to the hospital to see them until my post surgery check up. My husband worked from about 3 PM to 1 AM, so he would go visit after work many nights. His siblings and my sister helped get me back and forth during daytime hours those first few weeks. This usually gave me about three to five hours each day to sit next to one baby at a time. On day 11 of our NICU experience, my husband’s sister had driven me up since she had appointments in midtown Atlanta. I went first to sit with Twin B that day. He was not yet stable enough for us to hold, but I could put my hand in and touch him through the openings in the Isolette. He quickly grabbed my finger that day. The hospital social worker came in while I was there to see how we were doing. She was there to support us and help provide anything we needed during our NICU experience. After a lengthy talk, I attempted to move over to Twin A & C for a while, but my sweet baby boy squeezed my finger tighter every time I tried to pull my hand away. So, I stayed with him nearly the entire visit.
Early the next morning, we received a call from the neonatologist that we needed to come to the hospital. Our sweet baby boy had suffered heart issues and they didn’t believe he would survive another day. We quickly dressed and headed to Atlanta. We were told he would probably slip quickly into a coma. But he remained alert that day and continued to stay stable. We went back home for the night knowing another call could come at any moment. The next morning, a quick phone call to check on him found him still stable and alert. A friend planned to take me later in the day to stay for evening hours so my husband went on to work. But, later that afternoon, we were told over another check in call, that he was beginning to slip away. Family quickly drove me to the hospital while my husband left work. After our arrival, we were finally allowed to hold our little boy. We sat with him for several hours. His big eyes stayed focused on us for quite some time. A few family members made their way to the hospital as well to say goodbye – only grandparents were allowed in the NICU itself though. I was still recovering from surgery and a severe kidney infection, so when they asked if we were ready for them to remove the vent and other tubes, so we could hold him while he left earth, I told them I would take the opportunity to visit the ladies room. This shocked them, but hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go, right? As soon as I walked back towards the NICU entry door, I could see my mother-in-law in tears and I knew he was gone. You see, I truly did not want to hold him as he took his last breath. God knew it was not something I could face. But we were able to hold him afterwards. We were placed in a small private room to hold him and see him for a while. He was so, so tiny. We said our goodbyes, each in our own way to our precious first born son. We then took a quick trip back to the NICU to see our baby girls for a few minutes. They both seemed to sense and know what had happened. Just prior to his passing they each had their own “tiny issues” demanding (by setting off their alarms) a bit of extra care. Once he was with Jesus, they both calmed down and rested well. On day 16 of our NICU experience, we held a small graveside funeral for our precious little Daniel.
Twin C
Twin C is our surprise blessing. I still laugh at the fact that she was identified as Twin C. The nurses had made very tiny beaded bracelets during the night before delivery took place. The beads spelled out “twin A” and “twin B” and were ready to be placed on their Isolettes for one form of identification. Since a third baby was a total surprise, the nurses quickly made hers to say “twin C” so they all matched. She too battled a round of jaundice. I can recall her skin looking the most yellow during those days. Her hair was darker than her siblings, so I think her natural skin tone was already a bit darker than her two fair haired siblings. She too was monitored closely for ROP in addition to battling minor issues keeping her heart rate steady the first few weeks. She depended on her oxygen a good bit too. But, she never truly seemed near the point of death – that we knew of. She too had a central IV line put in place to help with nutrition. She received what little bit of my breast milk she could. She remained on the ventilator for around 8 weeks, then the nasal cannula for a few more. She kept wanting just the tiniest bit of extra oxygen (room air is 21% oxygen, and she kept breathing better at 23% oxygen.) She gained weight a bit quicker than Twin A. She could have been discharged a day or two before her sister, but we really wanted to bring them home together. After all, if one was at home, how could I visit the other one? The weekend before they were set to be discharged, the doctor sat down with us and shared a few details about Twin C that we didn’t know.
You see, there are many protocols when it comes to preemies. The first one has to do with their first 24 hours of life. Since they were born at what was the earliest time to survive such a premature birth at the time, it was pretty much the protocol to only revive them twice during their first 24 hours of life. The doctor shared with us that during that first night she had been called in twice when Daniel “coded” and she had helped administer medications to bring his heart back to life. Twin C had also coded twice earlier in their first day in the NICU. As the doctor was standing watch over Daniel, a nurse approached her to let her know that Twin C was coding again and asked what they should do. The doctor then shared words I will never forget. She said as she stood there considering options, she strongly felt a tap on her shoulder and heard the words “if you save her just one more time, I promise she won’t give you any more trouble.” (No physical person was there.) So she administered life saving medication once again. And Twin C never did have any severe complications during the rest of her NICU stay! Miracle #4 revealed! If her brother had not already been receiving care at that exact moment, we will never know what her own outcome could have been. In that respect, he saved his sister’s life. After 110 days in the NICU, our baby girls came home and we were truly able to be parents at long last!
Twin C did have lingering vision issues longer than her sister, but her ROP cleared up and instead she faced eye muscle surgery three times over 13 years. Oddly, at age 20, she was found to have a detached retina at her yearly exam and had surgery within days. Timing was everything since she was about to start her second year of college. But God provided once again. Today Twin C works as a cardiac sonographer in a hospital. She always wanted to work in the medical field in some way, especially cardiology, since her brother had passed away after his heart simply stopped.
Following their homecoming, it took years for me to be able to look at another preemie in a hospital setting. Movies with preemies were impossible to watch. Even now, the days between their birthday and anniversary of Daniel’s homegoing, every single memory of those long days is foremost in my mind. The trauma of premature birth is hard enough, but add in an unexpected baby to the delivery and it increases the trauma. But our God is bigger than any trauma. With the support and prayers of many loved ones and many people we never met, we made it through and have been very blessed by our tiny Thanksgiving blessings!
“In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials”
1 Peter 1:6
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For my husband and I, our first attempts at having a baby resulted in very early miscarriages. Two occured before I even knew I was pregnant. After some testing, we agreed to try one round of a small dose of medication to help ensure a successful pregnancy. For us, that one week was successful. Once I made it past that first three months, I began to accept that we really would become parents at last. Just before my pregnancy midway point, I began to grow quicker than expected, so the doctor ordered an ultrasound to check for the possibility of twins. In the early 1980’s, heartbeats were not as easy to pick up as they are now, so a second heartbeat had not been heard at any appointment. Once we knew the possibility of a set of twins, I began to worry it would be more! The doctor insisted that my very small dose of medication rarely resulted even in twins, so we should stop worrying. The day of the ultrasound he found two babies. In the photographs we were given we could see them lying head to head in the womb. Those tiny little arms and legs were amazing to see. Ultrasound photos were still a fairly new item to receive at that point.
For the next 7 weeks, things progressed as expected. I was working as a receptionist at a local law firm and had already decided that with two babies to care for, I would need to resign my job once they were born. At my 27 week appointment, I was found to have elevated blood pressure (after years of having extremely low normal pressure) and severe swelling in my legs and feet. My doctor felt I needed to change to working part time hours. I was able to go ahead and begin doing so the next day, working until Noon. I headed home and put my feet up the rest of the day. The next morning I woke up early to see signs that something was wrong. After a call to my doctor, I was told to meet him at his office as soon as it opened. My husband and I headed there with a good deal of anxiety. I felt fine, but the slight bleeding was a concern. Once my doctor checked things out, it was evident I was in labor. Evident to him at least. I felt no contractions, even though they were about six minutes apart. He allowed us to wait in his office while he called a few Level III Neonatal hospitals to see if they had room for 13 weeks premature twins. Fortunately for us, his first preference of hospital and doctor was available to accept us. So we were sent off to midtown Atlanta for check in. No cell phones existed yet at this time, so we used the doctor’s phone to make two calls – my mother and my husband’s parents.
On the drive to Atlanta, I kept my hands on my belly and could tell when the contractions caused my stomach to tighten, but I still felt no pain at all. By the time we arrived at the ER for a quick check in, I was terrified. They were expecting us, so we were quickly escorted up to labor and delivery and the poking, prodding, testing and questions began. It took about ten pokes to get an IV started. They finally got one into the back of my right hand. Not comfortable at all! It made signing my name over and over very painful. Belts were attached to pick up the contractions and the heartbeats of the babies. Both heartbeats stayed strong. This was the first time I had heard them myself. Tests were run on my blood and urine samples and a constant check was kept on my elevating blood pressure. Around lunch time the well known ob/gyn came in to update us on how things were looking. Labor was trying to progress and I was in the early stages of preeclampsia. Medication was administered to try and stop (or at least slow down) the contractions and lower my blood pressure.
As the day progressed, we met the neonatologist that took care of the babies in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) as well as a few of the nurses. It turned out that one of the nurses was the sister of one of the lawyers in the firm where I worked. He placed a call to her and she spoke with pretty much all the ladies in the firm to assure them they would take the very best care of me and the babies. One ultrasound was done by the hospital ultrasound tech. The babies looked well and at the expected stage for 27 weeks along in gestation. That evening, once his office hours were completed, the doctor came in and did another ultrasound himself. He said the babies were moving around so much he saw legs everywhere. Baby “A” was in place to arrive first and we were informed Baby “B” was a boy – which we didn’t want to know. But the doctor let us quickly know that it was important for the NICU staff to know what to expect. We learned why in the coming weeks.
By late evening it was becoming clear that labor was not very likely to be stopped and that our babies would arrive much too early to be the anticipated newborns we hoped for. They would be extremely small and need extensive care in the NICU. Word had spread among coworkers, family and our church and we knew many, many prayers were being said for the safe arrival of the babies and for my health to improve. We learned that with preeclampsia the only real “cure” was to deliver the babies. Since the first medication did nothing to slow labor or lower my blood pressure, another type was administered with the awful side effect of making my entire body feel as if it was on fire. It was a long and uncomfortable night. My mom, sisters and a close friend had arrived and stayed in a nearby hotel. My husband’s family stayed until late in the night before returning home to rest before the next morning. Our unexpected adventure was putting a damper on the next day’s plans – you see, the next day was Thanksgiving.
By 8:00 am Thanksgiving morning, it was decided that delivery was going to happen the morning. Due to preeclampsia, a c-section was the plan. Preparations were made in the NICU and enough staff was called in to ensure both babies had a team to take care of them as soon as they arrived. We were blessed beyond measure to have both the well known and highly respected ob/gyn and neonatologist on duty together for the holiday. Several residents were on hand to assist with anesthesia, delivery and care of the babies along with the nurses from the NICU. I was terrified to have an epidural, but the medical team assured me I would be fine and it was the best way to deliver the babies safely. As they began preparing me for the epidural, they told my husband he was allowed to be in the operating room with me. Shortly after 10 AM that Thanksgiving morning, I was wheeled into the operating room while he was getting into sterile scrubs.
Since a screen was placed just in front of my face, my only view was of the anesthesiologist at my head and my husband at my right side. It was cold, as it is in any operating room. Everyone got into place as the doctor began making the incisions. When he pulled the first baby out, I remember hearing him say “baby A is a girl, 10:48”, immediately followed by some tugging then “baby B is a boy as predicted, 10:49.” I lay there wondering what on earth those numbers meant. There was no way they had been weighed and since this was my first birthing experience, I was unaware that it was their time of birth. Once both babies were being tended to by their respective NICU teams, the doctor did the usual clean up of the uterus after a c-section and found a small mass near my rib cage area and told the team he had found a small fibroid cyst. He instructed the anesthesiologist to administer something to allow me to sleep while he removed the tumor. A very brief moment passed, then the doctor yelled the ten words that will forever remain fresh in my mind.
“Stop! This is a foot! We have a third baby!”
One group flocked back to my body, while one person got on the phone to request a third Isolette. The anesthesiologist was told NOT to push any sleep inducing drugs, and a flurry of activity took place. The doctor reached up into my rib cage area and pulled out the third baby saying “Baby C is a girl, 10:52.” The most amazing thing to many of the nurses present that morning was when I turned to my husband and quickly told him her name. You see, we had gone over several pairs of names for our expected twins. One set for two girls, one set for two boys, and a set for a boy and girl pair. The name I told him was not our second girl name, just one we had discussed at one point. While they waited on a third isolette to arrive from the NICU, my husband was allowed to go with Baby A and Baby C from the OR to the NICU. Baby B, our little boy, was a bit stronger and larger (he is the only one I could hear cry a tiny bit) so he waited for the extra Isolette to arrive while the team worked with him. Then my husband was able to go do the one thing I wish I had been able to witness. He went to the waiting room to tell the large family group present that I had just given birth to triplets!
Once the babies arrived in the NICU, weights were taken, a third tiny bracelet was made for Baby C. Since the NICU had prepared for twins, we had very unique bracelets. They said Twin A, Twin B and Twin C. I was in quite a state of shock in addition to battling effects of the preeclampsia and lingering numbness from the epidural for several hours. People were in and out of my hospital room. I remember that every time someone came in the room, I repeated over and over, “I had three babies!”. In the early 1980’s, a 27 week gestation baby was pretty much the earliest of premature baby to survive. Their birth weights were extremely low since there were three of them. They were in birth order: 720 grams (1 lb 9.4 oz), 830 grams (1 lb 13.3 oz), and 700 grams (1 lb 8.6 oz). Combined they weighed 4 lbs 15 oz, which for 27 weeks would have been a large baby, especially for my short 5 foot body.
Family members from near and far visited that weekend while I adjusted to all the new acronyms of medical terms preemies could have. That Saturday, my Granny and Great Aunt were driven up from the family farm to visit by my good friend and relative. After visiting with me for a bit, they went down to the one window that looked into the nursery where my precious tiny babies were. Twin A and Twin C were on either side of the window, but Twin B was on the far side of the room. As they were peering into the window, one of the nurses came out and asked one simple question; “Are you grandmothers?” Since she didn’t specify whose grandmother they had to be, both answered yes! Oh, the laughter we shared over my great aunt telling that story. Since they both said they were grandmothers, they were invited in to scrub up, gown up, and then they were allowed into the NICU to get a closer look at all three babies. I was so glad that they both were allowed in to see them. My great aunt was like another grandmother to me, and as she reminded me over the years, she never lied. She was a grandmother, just not to those precious tiny babies.
I was discharged home the following Monday, and was allowed to hold Twin A for a few minutes before we left. She was the strongest at the time and was breathing room air (which I was very confused about) through the ventilator. All I remember is those big eyes looking up at me with tubes and wires along with the blanket covering her tiny little body and head. Even with all those obstacles in our way, she knew my voice and knew her momma had her. Leaving the hospital without my babies was tough. We were escorted down a staff elevator to exit through the ER – the same doors I had arrived through the Wednesday before – so that I would not have to see other moms and babies leaving together. We knew as we left for home, that the multitude of prayers being offered to God on their behalf was plentiful. We knew that we would only get through the days and weeks to come because of the love, comfort, and prayers of those we loved and the many others our loved ones had asked to pray for our little family. God’s grace, mercy, and love were our source through the many long days and nights that followed the birth of our tiny Thanksgiving blessings.
Next week, details about each baby and their experiences in the NICU will be shared. It will get lengthy, as this post did. It will be full of emotion. It will be full of tears. It will be full of joy. It will be full of miracles. It will be full of life. Abundant life!
“They celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness.” Psalm 145:7
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For many years in my adult life, I have worked as a paraprofessional in our local school system. It was especially nice once I was working in the elementary school our children attended, which is just two miles from our home. I was working in there while our youngest child attended there for six of his years in that school. It was nice that he could take that short trip to school with me every day. Many of the other paraprofessionals at the school were parents of students at the school as well when they first began working there. Fortunately, this meant most of us lived within just a few miles of each other as well as the school. This was a blessing on the rare occasions when illness kept me home from work, since I could call on one of them to drop by on the way to work and give my son a ride to school. Another rare occasion occurred when my minivan was “sick.”
For a few weeks leading up to this incident, the minivan had been sluggish when starting. One visit to the auto repair shop found nothing. One morning, on a day filled with two separate medical appointments in addition to work and school, the minivan would not cooperate. My son and I were loaded up and ready to leave, but not a single sound was heard when I turned the key in the ignition. None. Not a grind, buzz, whistle, or sputter. Based on the previous issues in recent weeks, my thoughts went quickly to a dead battery. With little time to spare, I called a coworker for a ride to the school. Once at work, I called my husband to let him know that had happened and to see if could help out with the appointments. Many times, it was difficult for him to take off for minor issues, but this time, he has allowed to leave after lunch for a short while.
He arrived home just before our son and I got home from school and quickly got to work preparing his truck and the minivan to jump the battery. Once he opened the hood of the minivan and began attaching the jumper cables to the battery, he saw that the cable on one of the battery posts was extremely loose. Once he firmly tightened that connection, the minivan quickly started up! When I arrived at home, he told me how simple the solution was. Thankfully, we were both able to have a good laugh at how simple the “repair” had been. We were also thankful that no expensive repair or even a new battery were needed. No need to spend money was always a great joy.
Just imagine, there are many important connections in an engine that can cause problems. Every connection needs to be secure and in the correct spot for the car to run. My life is like this. My connection to Jesus needs to be secure. Without HIM and HIS daily guidance, I most likely would not have laughed at the simple solution. I most likely would have been upset with myself for not taking the time to open the hood and look at the battery that morning. I could have been angry at the auto shop for not seeing the problem when I took it in. I could have been upset with my husband for not checking it out in the days leading up to the incident. He could have been upset with me for asking him to come home when I could have noticed the issue myself that morning. But with Jesus in our lives daily, we were both able to find those moments of joy and laughter together.
On my journey with Jesus, there have been many, many times when I failed to keep my connection secure. As life goes along, I have had periods when I was so busy, and things were running smoothly, so I tended to push my daily time with Jesus to the side. When even the tiniest problem occurred, I didn’t even think to pray and ask for HIS guidance first. I plunged headfirst into “doing it myself”. After all, don’t we all think “my way is the best way” at various times in our lives? As I age and mature in my journey with Jesus, I have learned to rely on HIM through my daily prayer and bible study for HIS guidance on even the smallest matters. Keeping that connection secure and in working condition is all that gets me through most days! Especially when the concerns are not small – but enormous!. I can’t imagine my life without Jesus.
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”
John 15:5 NIV
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We have all heard the saying “the grass is always greener on the other side” many times. But have you every heard “the road looks much smoother on the other side?” I am sure I spoke those words a few times growing up, but my most memorable moment involving those words involves a long ago trip to visit my family. My husband (he was my fiancé at the time) and I were on the way to visit my mom and grandparents on the family farm in southwest Georgia. The farm had been in the family since the mid 1800’s and it was where I spent most of my childhood. Farms in southwest Georgia were most often found on good ole’ dirt roads. Dirt roads in my part of the state were a mixture of red Georgia clay and sand. Not a good mixture when heavy rains came down.
After a heavy rain, I never wanted to be one of the first drivers to head out on that dirt road. Until enough others had driven down the road, you were most likely to slip, slide, spin tires, and even end up in the ditch. But once enough cars (or more likely, trucks) ventured out, deep ruts began to appear. But only one set, right down the middle of the road. Those ruts created a safe path to the highway. You just hoped the lightly traveled road was empty of any cars coming towards you when heading out. On this spring visit to the farm, the rains had occurred early that morning, but the sun was out at last. Just after we topped the first hill just after leaving the highway we passed the dairy farm and reached a section of road that was a bit wider and contained more sand than most of the road. My fiancé looked at that nicely packed sand and compared it to the deep muddy ruts that were quickly turning his white truck brown and asked me this question: “Wouldn’t it be better to drive over on the smooth part of the road?” I told him no, the ruts were the way to go. But he insisted he would be better off on the smooth side. So over to one side he went and quickly got stuck!
Hmmm – how many times in life have we each said, “I am stuck in a rut” and wanted a change? We tend to look at being in a rut as a bad thing, just as my husband did that long ago day. We let that feeling of envy take over. We see others traveling a smoother journey. We want what they have. We think our “ruts” are boring. Our “ruts” aren’t going anywhere. Why are we the ones traveling on the “ruts?” I could go on and on, but you get the idea now right?
I have begun to look at it very differently in recent months though. I can look back now at the times I was tired of my “ruts” and wanted something new and exciting. Too many times I made hasty decisions without taking the time consider all my options. Some of those moves make me sad when I remember them. However, I don’t like using the word “regret” to describe them. You see, even though they were not the best decisions, the changes they made in my journey are all part of my story. And my story is one that I hope points to Jesus. Without the experiences I went through both on and off the rutted path, I would not be who I am today. Not that I am perfect by any means! But I am who God created me to be; HIS child that is striving daily to live the life HE created me to live.
I can now see HIS guidance in my life when I was traveling in the ruts. The focus it takes to keep your tires in those muddy ruts reminds me of the focus it takes to follow Jesus. If I took my eyes of those muddy ruts, I was likely to slip, slide, spin the tires, and end up in the ditch. If I take my eyes off Jesus, I slip, slide, spin MY wheels, and end up in the wrong place. Just as those ruts on the dirt road were the safest place to drive, living life with Jesus as my guide will keep me on my safest journey.. And just as my journey on those muddy ruts helped me reach my destination; my journey through life will one day end at the most glorious destination – eternity with Jesus! What a joy filled thought! I am so thankful that even when I ventured off into the smooth look road, HE guided me back into his safe and secure ruts.
As for that white truck covered in mud at the beginning of this story – fortunately relatives lived on that same muddy road. I was able to get to the dairy owner’s house and call (no cell phones yet in 1982) for help. My cousin drove their family tractor down and pulled us out of the sandy muck. I did my very best not to laugh or tell my fiancé “I told you so.” Let’s just say he learned that day this country girl knew what she was talking about! After all, I had more experience driving on that particular dirt road than he did.
(Most of that country road is now covered with asphalt, but a one mile stretch through the family farm is still good ole’ dirt. The cousin in the story now has a son living on our old family farm and he continues to rescue drivers from the muddy ditch.)
“Wait passionately for GOD, don’t leave the path. He’ll give you your place in the sun. . .”
Psalm 37:34a MSG
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In the spring of 2009, I was asked to speak at a Senior Adult dinner at our church. A quick story I shared during a halftime devotion at Upward Basketball & Cheerleading caught the attention of the Senior Adult minister and he encouraged me to speak. He assured me that I had the ability to share a longer story. After much thought and prayer, I agreed. After sharing a story from my childhood about the impact my grandparents had on me, others in attendance at the dinner encouraged me to write more about my life’s journey. As I considered the possibility, I also began thinking of how I could connect all my stories together. The following comparison is what came to mind after a day of looking through photos of a family vacation.
The first week of June 2001, we took a family vacation to visit my younger sister and her family in the northern suburbs of Denver, Colorado. Our three day drive in a minivan across the midwest was filled with the usual tiresome complaints from our four children (aged 16, 16, 12, and 4), two interesting hotel stays, a rainy drive across Missouri, and an interesting break at Old Town Museum in Burlington, Kansas. Just after leaving the museum, we headed west on the interstate just a few miles short of the Colorado state line, and Pike’s Peak came in to view. Once it was visible, the fear of what was to come as we ventured into the mountains gripped my mind.
From as early as I can remember, I suffered from extreme fear of heights and bodies of water. When the two met (a long bridge over deep water in particular), that fear was multiplied several times over. My fear would often result in nausea, dizziness, and a tingling sensation all over my body. Since I was the one driving at this point, I had to work hard to calm the fear. After all, the day before I had managed to cross the mighty Mississippi River in St. Louis without one single moment of fear. Of course, I only managed to do so because I was not driving as we approached the bridge between Illinois and Missouri, which gave me the opportunity to completely appreciate and be amazed by the site of the St. Louis Arch.
Conquering my fear that day was just one of the many times I would be forced – or helped – to do so during our week in Colorado. After all, we were going to visit my sister and her family at the foothills of the great Rocky Mountains. Their home was in the plains area outside Boulder. After arriving at their home, it was so surprising for me to see all the land in their town was as flat as our South Georgia farm! But oh, the site of those majestic mountains just a few miles to the west took my breath away. It was beautiful. The scenery from their back yard was beyond anything I could have imagined from any photos, or video I had seen. Seeing it in person was well worth the long days on the road. I began to look forward to the planned day trips with a little less worry about the heights and a little more desire to see God’s creation. My sister planned well, and the trip to the highest point we would visit was to be the last of our day trips. We were to visit other sites at lower altitudes first to help us all adjust to the dryer, thinner air at the higher altitude.
A relaxing day at a lake was first. Then a day trip to Colorado Springs so we could visit the Air Force Academy, (where my brother in law spent his college years), and the Garden of the Gods. The rock formations in the garden were beautiful. There were multiple fun photo opportunities and those photos help remind me of the trip often. We even had time to stop by the Red Rocks Amphitheater for a brief visit. And to please the only boy among the eight children we had between us – our four year old son – we visited Dinosaur Ridge. Another afternoon gave us a surprise picnic on the lawn of the Denver Museum. The surprise occurred after our planned trip to the Denver Zoo was canceled just before our arrival in the parking lot. News crews were all over the parking lot to cover a story about a loose elephant in the zoo! Despite our disappointment, the impromptu picnic and afternoon of kite flying was full of laughter, fun chases, and even a bit of tree climbing by the adults – to retrieve lost kites. Another day we visited a lower altitude area of the Rocky Mountain National Park as we continued to adjust to the altitude changes.
Finally, the day arrived for our big journey to Estes Park and the Continental Divide. Our vans were loaded with kids, food, two adults each, and my huge anxiety over the thought of the drive. I was with my sister along with four of the kids and the guys had the other four kids. This trip was in a time before cell phones were widely used, so I had the lone cell phone amongst us. Before leaving the house, we all knew where we were going, but no discussion was held which of the various routes we would take to get there. You guessed it, at some point we were no longer on the road together. Naturally, the concern about meeting up a the correct place just added to my growing anxiety. Not long after we realized we were not traveling on the same route, I noticed a very pungent odor. It was skunk mating season, and the odor was very, very unpleasant. The discussion about this helped to calm me a bit as my sister drove on and kept me talking. As we neared Estes Park, the roads got curvier, and on my side, I began to notice the steep drop off below the guard rails. To calm my fears, I closed my eyes and told my sister to let me know when we reached areas without the drop offs.
For a few miles she did so while I dealt with my anxiety in my way. Eventually she began telling me that I really should look at the views. She explained I was missing some beautiful sites. When we were very near to Estes Park, she insisted I really did want to see the view that was just ahead. I reluctantly opened my eyes and saw why she was so insistent. To my right, as the road curved to the left, and well below our level on the side of the mountain, was a beautiful valley. It was green, flat, full of farm animals, people, homes and elk. As we approached the entrance to the park, I again began to worry about the other van again – the one containing my husband and two of my kids. As my sister pulled into the ranger station and gift shop parking lot – there they were – waiting on us to arrive. After the necessary break and “window shopping” in the gift shop, we headed towards our destination to the Continental Divide.
The first few miles were on roads surrounded by gently sloping hills that were green with the summer grass and dotted with a few colorful flowers. As I looked up, I could see those snowcapped mountains. The early drive was full of photo opportunities. We soon stopped at one well visited area. Marmots were seen outside the parking area. They reminded me of the prairie dogs in Oklahoma. The foot trail to the next spot was a bit rocky and while we waited for our turn to reach the top for photos, the kids enjoyed climbing on the rocks with my brother in law. I slowly took in the sites all around us. God had created the wondrous view all around us – all for our enjoyment. When we finally made it to the top to take photos, two things stand out in my memory. First, my brother in law was a pilot and felt it necessary to share that at the height we had reached, a fall from an airplane would be a quick death. Gee thanks! It did give us all a good laugh. But the second thing I hope to always remember. As I turned and looked below me in a 360 degree turn, I could see so many aspects of those majestic mountains. The rugged snow covered areas, the lush green meadows, the small mountain flowers beginning to bloom, the animals that dotted the valleys off in a distance, and even the few clouds in the blue sky; they all filled me with the most amazing awareness of God. It was literally a mountaintop experience. HIS power was clear. HIS love for humanity was very evident. It was humbling and awe inspiring. Best of all, my anxiety was all but gone. My sister was right, I needed to open my eyes to see what God had created.
We made our way back to the vans and began the last leg of the journey to the Divide. The snow had only begun melting at the divide in recent weeks so the road had only opened the week before. We were determined to make it there for a photo opportunity of a lifetime. This drive became even more fearful for me. The road narrowed, the guard rail seemed minimal to my right. The view now consisted of steep rocky drop offs. I kept my eyes focused on the rocky mountain on the driver’s side of the road. That view was almost as fearful. It looked so close I was certain my sister could have reached out the window and touched the mountain. This part of the drive was a good bit slower as we curved left and right winding our way up the mountain. Finally, our destination was in site. A small ranger station was there along with the sign stating the altitude and the name of this particular pass over the Continental Divide. We bundled up in our jackets to pose in front of the sign. At least, my own family did. You see, my sister had done research when planning our trip and learned this particular pass was called “Milner Pass”, which of course is our last name. After snapping a few photos, the kids made a snowball or two. (Just maybe we adults did as well.) We observed a few bighorn sheep up above us at the top of the mountain behind the ranger station. We loaded back up and started back down the mountain. The kids were promised items from the gift shop before leaving the park. Honestly, I don’t remember the drive back down. I do remember the gift shop. And I do remember the huge elk in the middle of the road at the exit of the park. Our son was very concerned for my safety when I got out to take photos of the elk, along with several other tourists. The drive home held less anxiety for me than the drive up did. I had survived my fears!
How does this trip connect my stories? When I recall my sister’s encouragement to open my eyes and see God’s creation on that drive, I see that my life has been like that. My journey has been (and I am sure will continue to be) filled with days when anxiety and fear try to overwhelm me. My journey has contained moments, days, weeks, even months that I know only HE got me through. Many of those moments HE shielded my eyes – or at least my heart – so that I didn’t have to endure devastating sites. But other times, HE forced me to look and watch as he brought amazing miracles and moments. My journey would have been very different if I had not known HIM as my Savior, as my friend, and as my protector. My journey through life is full of joyful moments I feel the need to share. My journey has held heartbreaking moments that HE brought me through – to find joy time and time again.
I understand that no one has a journey that is completely void of struggles, disappointments, losses, fears, and anxiety. For those that don’t know Jesus, I have no idea how they manage to make it through their journey. For those of you that do know Jesus and the Joy he brings, I am sure you have similar stories to share. Moments when HE held you close, HE comforted your aches, HE rescued you from danger, and HE called you to be HIS child. I hope you will join me as I share my journey. Some stories will be short, some will be long. Some will be sad, some will be funny. No matter the subject matter or length of each story, I can look back and see Jesus there with me. And I can see the joy HE gave, even if I couldn’t always see it at that moment.
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.”
James 2:2-3 NIV
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As Thanksgiving approached, our family worked to find a time for most of our adult children to come home for the day; and my mind began to recall Thanksgiving meals of the past. Our second Thanksgiving as husband and wife found us missing the big meal due to the extra early arrival of our tiniest blessings in 1984. I have no idea who actually ate the meal prepared by my sister in law at Gary’s parents’ home. Over the following years we took turns visiting my family or eating with Gary’s family . As our kids grew and our family expanded, we tended to have the meal in our own home more and more. Those memories of being a host have me remembering one of my favorite Bible stories – one of a very unlikely host.
Zacchaeus was a tax collector in the town of Jericho. In Jesus’ days on earth, tax collectors were not trusted members of their community. They took more money than was necessary and kept the “extra” for themselves. Zacchaeus had become a very wealthy chief tax collector through his years of taking more than was needed. It is hard to imagine anyone wanting to be a guest at his home. But one day he became a very unlikely host without any plans to do so.
In the book of Luke we read the story of Jesus passing through Jericho. The road was full of people wishing to see Jesus. Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus as well, but he was too short to see over the crowds, so he climbed a tree. Surprisingly, when Jesus reached the spot where Zacchaeus was, He looked up and spoke to him saying, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” Imagine the commotion that followed. We read in those few verses in Luke 19 that the people muttered all about Jesus being the guest of a sinner.
Zacchaeus was immediately a changed man and told Jesus he would give half his possessions to the poor and pay back those he had cheated four times the amount he had taken. I believe his determination to see Jesus changed his life in ways he had never considered. His determination also changed the lives of those he had cheated in ways they had most likely never imagined. More importantly, his determination allows us to see that Jesus truly came for everyone to have the opportunity to learn of HIS FATHER’S love for them. What a testimony the Unlikely Host had to share!
As Thanksgiving week leads into the Christmas season, I hope that through any event I attend or host others see that Jesus is always present in my words and actions. It is by his unexpected birth, death, and resurrection that we are able to one day live with Him – the most amazing HOST ever!
Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly. All the people saw this and began to mutter “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.” But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.” Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost,” Luke 19:1-9, NIV
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On that long ago Journey to the Divide in Colorado, miles before we neared Estes Park and those curving mountain roads, we traveled in our two vans through some local towns. For the first several miles we were near each other in traffic. Then suddenly my sister and I could no longer spot the van my brother in law was driving. This was the very early days of mobile phones so we couldn’t call them to see where they were. My sister insisted they had simply taken an alternate route and we would find them once we reached the park. I was quite worried about the occupants in that van. Then we hit those curving roads that brought me a different worry.
Another route in my own life was brought to my mind as I enjoyed my morning coffee. I have three “favorite” coffee mugs. All three are larger than the normal coffee cup, so I only need to refill it once in the morning hours. Last week I used one of my oldest mugs that just happened to be a gift from a former student; a Christmas gift from 2000!! For two school years in the early 2000’s I worked as a special education paraprofessional in a middle school small group setting with differently abled students. This particular coffee mug was a gift from one of the girls in the class. She loved to draw and design dresses. Her artistic ability always fascinated me. My position at the middle school was my return to my love of helping educate students after a break to be a mom.
After two years in the small group setting, I had the opportunity to transfer to the elementary school all my kids attended. It was a much shorter commute to work and was also where my youngest child was in school. I spent eleven and a half years helping educate four and five year olds. Then one my most treasured job called me. I was blessed to help educate the children of our church by serving as the children’s minister full time for seven years. Changes in life called me back to public education in 2021. I am once again in a middle school small group classroom helping educate students who are differently abled. The advancement of using technology to assist students who need a voice has shown me how rewarding my job has become. Seeing – and hearing – students use a variety of technical devices to share their needs, wants, and knowledge brings me to happy tears daily. I have taken many routes in the past 25 years.
Sipping my coffee from that mug last week reminded me that God uses all the routes we take to guide us to the right place at the right time. Every job I have held that allowed me to help educate students in any way was a blessing. God certainly used my various crossroads and detours to lead me to the perfect end of my career in education. The joy I have every day with my current students is the joy I need as I near my retirement years. As these students mature and gain new skills, I hope to stay in touch with their families so that I can hear of once unreachable goals being achieved.
Back to that trip to Estes Park, CO many years ago and the drive that found our two vans taking separate routes. The route that my sister chose took us through one small town that had a very distinctly pungent odor for miles. My sister explained that it was skunk mating season and their spray was prevalent as they worked to attract new mates. It was a very unpleasant odor for those miles of our trip. The route my brother in law chose avoided that odor. He remembered that one town was a preferred location for the skunks and chose to avoid driving through. So, we all ended up meeting at the right location. One van was full of riders that enjoyed a pleasant smelling route while the other held riders that had to breath deep once fresher smelling air was around us. And we enjoyed the sites and signs of Rocky Mountain National Park together.
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A distinct memory entered my mind one recent Sunday morning. I guess the mountain background on the Bible trivia questions before the church service began triggered something. The memory from the summer of 1991 is one that found me overcome with fear: a fear that was overcome by TRUST. Gary and I had driven to northern Texas with our three girls to visit my sister and her husband. The girls were six, six, and two at the time. One of our daytime trips included a picnic inside a wildlife refuge in the area of Lawton, Oklahoma. Bison wandered the roads and rolling hills. Smaller animals scampered all around. Small flowers were visible on the ground cover.
Our lunch was eaten near a small lake with a narrow dam. On the other side of the dam we could see a dry riverbed covered with stones and rocks. After lunch my brother in law suggested we cross the dam to explore the other side. All of my worst phobias came into play at the moment. A dam with no rails between deep water and a steep incline. And the dam was not wide! While I was hesitating, my brother in law picked up one of my girls, my sister another and they began crossing. I followed with my husband carrying the third daughter. I trusted my brother in law enough to overcome my fears. He knew the area and knew we were safe. (And he had my child!) He did find us another back further down the dry creek bed though! This memory sent my mind in motion.
TRUST– How many times have I put my trust not just in God, but in the people he has put in my life. Some for moments, some for a season, and some for most of my life. I trusted that doctors knew what the best plan was for our preemies. I trusted that surgeons knew how to correct our daughter’s eyesight. I trusted that surgeons knew how to repair my husband’s and our son’s heart, in addition to several other surgeries in our lives. I trusted that the time was right when job opportunities arose. I trust that God has always led me on the path he chose for my life. I trust that even when I take detours, he guides me back to that path.
As life changes occur from time to time, my faith in God gives me the trust I need to step out on that faith. I trust that he always knows what is best. I trust that he will continue to guide my decisions as long as I look to HIM for those directions. I trust that even when disappointments come, he will cover me with his feathers and show me his peace and presence. I trust that HE will open windows anytime doors are closed. I trust he will help me open the right window. I trust he is with me always.
“I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” Psalm 91:2
“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” Psalm 91:4
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My recent blog about a few “words on a wall” led me to some interesting prayer times. As I work to fight off those enemies like doubt, worry, anger and regret, I am reminded while praying of past times God got me through. Moments in my past when I doubted I would survive a tough day. Moments in my past (usually yesterday) when worry over something clogged my thoughts. Moments in my past when anger clouded my judgement. Moments in my past when sorrow was overwhelming. Moments – moments – moments. IN MY PAST – MY PAST – PAST.
All those moments in my past seemed insurmountable at the time. Each moment seemed full of insecurities when they were in front of me. As I struggled to find footing for each difficult event in my past (some just yesterday) I momentarily forgot the last time God led me through a different difficult moment. There have been many. A few much larger than the majority. When I faced each one though, they felt insurmountable at the time.
As I spoke words out loud to God one morning I thanked him for his provision during a previous worry – all while also pleading for strength to face my current doubts. As I was thanking him, I actually joked with him that each of my seemingly insurmountable events would one day be small grains of sand. I told him I was sure he spent moments gently amused by my concerns. He can see how big the pile of sand was under my feet. When I am spending eternity with HIM I will look back at all my worries, struggles, doubts, and fears as many, many grains of sand that formed my own mountain.
Each grain of sand is a vital part of my journey. It has been a journey full of the joy Jesus provides in the midst of my needless worry. The moments that seemed very far from joy filled are all grains on the path that leads me up to HIM. While the moments I had to overcome seemingly difficult situations may have felt unending at the time, each one will be completely buried in my mountain of sand when my final step finds me face to face with my Savior some day.
For now, I work daily to remember that each grain of sand in my mountain represents a moment of growth. Growth in my life with Jesus. Growth in my relationships with others. Growth in my knowledge that HE holds my hand. Growth in my trust that Jesus will always guide my way. My task is to keep my eyes focused on HIM as I climb up my ever building mountain. I love when he reminds me of those tiny grains of sand that are now in my distant past. I love when he reminds me that he gave me a stronger foothold each time I thought I was sinking in the sand. I love his daily reminder through his WORD that my irritating grains of sand are making me stronger and stronger.
“How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand – when I awake, I am still with you.” Psalm 139:17-18
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When I awake in the middle of the night, I often recite Psalm 23 in my mind. It usually takes “saying” it twice before my mind gently drifts back off to sleep. However, in recent months, my mind has sort of taken on “a mind of its own” whenever I try this tactic. Recently, it has begun visualizing the things I recite in my mind. I make it fine through the first part; “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” The next sentence is where my mind goes off track. “He makes me lie down in green pastures.” finds my mind jumping to a favorite painting done by my mom. As I say in my mind, “lie down in green pastures;” my mind jumps to the grassy area to the left of the path. I imagine myself lying in soft green grass looking up at the sky. I mentally start over on the passage and make it to the next line before my mind wanders again. “He leads me beside still waters” has me picturing my feet dangling in the water of the stream to the right. I wrangle my brain back to the beginning of the Psalm once again.
“He leads me in paths of righteousness” finds my eyes seeing many paths behind the little cottage. The slight hill on the far left path leads to the “valley of the shadow of death”. There I remember all the losses in my life as well as the times his “rod” redirected me when I was on wrong paths. I know his “staff” pulled me back into safety when I made wrong decisions. I wrangle my brain to start reciting this passage once more and I make it to “you prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies”. This is when a very “EYE OPENING MOMENT” occurs. I’ve always thought of my enemies as people. BUT – as I stand inside the small cottage in my mind, I turn, and instead of seeing people behind me, I see the wall covered with words. WORRY – ENVY – ANGER – PRIDE – GREED – JEALOUSY – DESIRE – WORRY – JUDGEMENTAL – DOUBT – PRIDE – ENVY – MONEY – WORRY. After several nights of this nighttime mind wandering, I have come to realize that those words represent my true enemies. The things that make me do things that are against God‘s will.
The Lord is my shepherd, – I – shall – not – want. I realize all the words on the wall – in various ways -represent things that I want, not the things that God wants. When I waste my time on these enemies, I am not doing what God wants me to do. I am not loving others as he instructs. For several weeks this nightly wandering in my mind has kept me awake. Once I finally decided to put all those thoughts/sights/words into real words I have slept more soundly. Maybe by simply writing them I have worked out what God wanted me to “SEE”. By sharing them with those who may read them, maybe God is showing you what he needs YOU to SEE.
1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; 3 he restores my soul.He leads me in right pats for his name’s sake. 4 Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff – they comfort me. 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever. Psalm 23 (NRSV)
https://joy-in-my-journey.com/2022/09/18/lost-in-a-painting/ – My previous post about this painting.
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Dear Mom:
Six years ago we watched you breathe your last breath here on Earth. Those last days were difficult for us to endure, but I know it was even more difficult for you. We watched you have conversations with God, struggle with pain, and attempt to sleep. So many emotions were felt in our home as we all dealt with our own feelings about your last days. At the time, those ten days seemed much longer than they were. Looking back now, I can see that they were just a moment in time. A moment in time in which we said goodbye.
Dear Mom:
I am so thankful for the time you lived in our home to wage your battle on cancer. I now realize the pain you were never letting us see. You fought against the pain long enough to see a third granddaughter marry. You fought against the pain long enough to see your first great grandchild (and my first grandchild) arrive. You and I had the privilege of watching her learn so much those first two years of her life. I am so thankful for the opportunity to watch you watch her. I am so thankful for the days we spent watching her become the sweet girl full of your artistic talents.
Dear Mom:
I am so thankful for the strength you had when you moved my sisters and I back home to your parents farm. The strength it took for you to finally make the move to remove us all from an unsafe marriage amazes me the more I think about it. I am thankful for your parents and the huge extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins who were there not only to support you, but to help raise us to know Jesus, joy and love. I am thankful for your resilience.
Dear Mom:
I am thankful for the discussions we were able to have during your years in our home. I got to know a different side of you as we both aged. I am thankful I was able to see the silly side of you in your last decade or so here on Earth. I am thankful you showed us your fun side. I am thankful for the relationship we developed during those last few years. I am thankful that you taught me (and my kids) your technique for patience. Your perspective on that as you became a grandmother has helped me to have a new perspective on many things. It has helped me to see that my perspective is continuously changing as I age and experience new things in my own life.
Dear Mom:
I miss you!
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I joined the “Mom Club” 40 years ago today. It was not quite the day that I had anticipated due to some very unexpected circumstances and occurrences. After several miscarriages I had finally made it into my second trimester and we were excited that a baby was on the way! Then about halfway through the usual 40 weeks – surprise – TWINS! This news resulted in quick plans to turn our two bedroom home into a three bedroom home. Within eight weeks the addition was dried in and ready for interior work.
That’s when things changed drastically. I unknowingly went into labor –13 weeks early – and had preeclampsia. Attempts to halt labor were unsuccessful and on November 22, 1984 our Thanksgiving Day was interrupted by some special deliveries. Twin A was born at 10:48 AM followed by her brother, Twin B at 10:49. Medical teams began working on each of them quickly while the OB finished up surgical procedures.
Suddenly the discovery of a small foot brought the biggest surprise of all – Twin C was born at 10:52! (Yes, they were triplets but since the NICU nurses had already made tiny bracelets for Twin A and B to go on their isolettes, the decision was made to use Twin C for the third bracelet.) The energy in the OR changed so quickly and I very quickly told my husband her name. The next 72 hours were filled with learning lots of new medical terminology. My biggest shock was learning that when a baby was breathing room air IT DID NOT mean she was breathing totally on her own. It just meant she was breathing air through a ventilator that contained the normal 21% oxygen.
My first 110 days as a mom consisted of visiting my babies in the NICU at least 5 days a week. I had to rely on others to drive me for the first six weeks. The roller coaster of emotions was intense the first several weeks. When Twin B, our son Daniel, passed away after 14 days with us, things changed. My focus turned into morning phone calls to get updates followed by afternoons in the NICU sitting with my precious girls and learning how to care for them. There were a few health scares for Twin A, but God was providing us with unknown miracles.
Year one as a mom was filled with doctors appointments, one minor surgery after discharge, one emergency admission to the children’s hospital, and countless alarm filled nights. By their second birthday I began to struggle during the days following their birthday through the anniversary of our precious Daniel’s death. Seeing other preemies in a movie or on a magazine cover brought severe distress. I had no desire to be around people or get ready for Christmas. I forced myself to get the tree up for the girls. As the years passed by I had seasons that brought only a day or two of sadness while others would find me truly struggling to be a mom.
Just after my precious preemies became teenagers I became involved in an online support group for parents of preemies. Through many discussions with fellow parents that had similar experiences, we realized we all suffered from a form of PTSD. The trauma of those NICU days and the years of medical needs created memories that are brought to the forefront of our mind from certain smells, sounds and sights. Once I was able to give those yearly days a name, it became a bit easier to survive the onslaught of feelings.
I am grateful daily for God’s provision and comfort during those toughest years. I pray daily that each Thanksgiving season brings less PTSD moments so that I can focus on enjoying my family and friends. I pray especially that this momentous year is one in which I overcome those emotions and truly rejoice at the wonderful lives God has given our girls. I hope there is no crying over the memories that bring heartache. Our precious girls are both wonderful young women and God blessed us greatly that Thanksgiving morning and every day that has followed.
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Car dashboards these days have a multitude of warning lights. In addition to the low fuel gauge, we now see warning lights when oil or tire pressure is low, a seatbelt is not set, and the dreaded “check engine” light, just to name a few. In addition to warning lights, many dashboards display our exact speed, the current street we are driving on, lane departure warnings, brake now, and the exact “miles til empty”. The one light I have yet to find on my current car is “buy new battery soon”. This particular light would have been great for two of our vehicles over the summer. Our navigation systems can even warn us of potholes, stalled cars in our path, and stalled traffic along our route. Wouldn’t it be great if our own bodies had warning lights too?
Most of us realize at times when our physical health has a problem. We take medication for pain when needed. We take medication for heartburn when we eat the wrong foods. A toothache might send us to the dentist in a hurry. But do we recognize other slow building signs? Many times health issues “creep up” on us and we don’t get help early enough to prevent major problems. A warning light on our knees that said “arthritis developing”, on our wrist blinking “check heart”, on our forehead “migraine approaching” and a really huge warning “cancer developing”. See a doctor NOW!
I could also use those warning lights to help me through some emotional health issues. Sudden situations can send us drowning in our tears. They may cause us to ignore our true grief and let it build up for too long. Recently I would have benefitted from a warning sign saying “incoming – extremely sad phone call”. I would have answered it while parked and not driving! Sometimes little things irritate us and we ignore them. Then one day an entirely different “little irritant” arrives and we explode. A nice warning light “stop and think” would be beneficial in helping us redirect our words. Even better, a warning “irritation ahead” might help us detour around the problem altogether. (Note: I consider mental health issues as physical health problems. Emotional health to me is situational.)
My spiritual health is of utmost importance. I strive daily to let God lead me and direct my day. But doing that 100% of every day doesn’t truly happen. I give in to worry, doubt, fear, anger, and sadness. Worry creeps in about loved ones’ own health concerns. Doubt about very unimportant things drags me down. Fear of “what if’s” that will never occur interfere. Anger and sadness at violence in our world fill me with dread. Warning lights reminding me to “pause and pray”, “breath and release” or “talk to a fellow believer” would certainly help keep the unwanted thoughts and feelings from creating issues in my body.
I know my body and mind do show me warning signs daily, but do I truly pay attention to them? Just as there have been times I ignored the funny sounds my car made, I also tend to ignore the funny “sounds” in my body. When cars got “smarter” and began showing me glaring signs as I drove, I made sure my car was taken care of properly. I need to find a way to “hear” the warning sounds in my own engine! I know Jesus is there to guide me and the Spirit tells me daily what I need to do. I guess I need to turn up the volume on my internal hearing aids – and then do what I know is needed!
“For God does speak-now one way, now another-though no one perceives it. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls on people as they slumber in their beds, he may speak in their ears and terrify them with warnings, to turn them from wrongdoing and keep them from pride, to preserve them from the pit, their lives from perishing by the sword.” Job 33:14-18
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After months of writer’s block that was more mental block for me, new thoughts have once again come forth. Two enjoyable and insightful children’s movies and a sermon sent my mind back to work. It also helped that I began working on my mental health through a wonderful Christian counselor. These things combined to lead me to The Suits We Wear.
The formal business suit is not one I ever had to wear. It reminds me of my daily focus for the job. In my various career choices – office clerk, children’s minister, and educator – presenting the proper tone was (and is) important to me. That tone is sometimes present in my clothing choices, but mostly in the way I present myself through my actions and words. Each of these career choices requires contact with others daily. This means keeping my personal feelings hidden whenever possible. But personal feelings always slip into our tone. They too are part of my daily “suit.”
A large portion of my life involved the bunny suit and Santa suit. I have never worn either of those suits, but as a parent, the suits were present in my mind as I worked to please my kids with surprises or gifts. They were present in my mind as I planned trips that included something to make everyone happy. The suits were present while driving our four kids to school events, extra-curricular activities, medical appointments and church. I was like the bunny hopping from place to place or like Santa rushing to get there on time! They were part of my daily suit.
The diving suit is the suit in my current phase of life. I am working hard at diving daily into HIS word, as I also dive into my own mental health concerns. It is painful at times to dive deep to see why certain things “push my buttons”, but that is what my counselor and I are focused on. It helps when she directs me to biblical teachings which I have been diving into on my own. The reminder from that recent sermon that David couldn’t slay Goliath with King Saul’s armor as protection was spot on for me. It reminds me to put on the armor of God as I strive to improve my daily relationship with HIM.
In this extreme southern summer heat, I am thankful I don’t literally wear any of these suits, but I am thankful of the focus they have given me. I pray that they will continue to keep me focused on HIM and his direction for my life. I look forward to the years when retirement arrives and I begin yet another phase of life. I wonder what type of suit should represent that phase? What type of suit represents your current phase in life?
Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. Ephesians 6:10 NRSV
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The Joy in My Journey 