Mugs & Mornings

What is it about drinking coffee from a pretty Christmas mug in the month of December as Christmas Day nears its destination.? Children around the world are counting down the days until this fanciful and magical day arrives. Some–like our grandchildren–are using an Advent Calendar to help anxious minds and hearts create a need to be patient in the waiting. 

Gone are the days of using an Advent Calendar with our own children. They are grown now, raising children of their own. Yet, even though those fun days of opening each door on their calendar are gone, leaving me with no anxious little hands or squeals of delight as revealed treasures accompanied by a daily advent message appeared, I still find myself craving to create warm thoughts of Christmas to come…the joys of advent…the peace I feel every morning when I make my way from bed to kitchen for the hot coffee that is waiting (thank you to my husband)...lights on the tree plugged in (thank you to my husband) glowing in our dark living room as the sun is still below the horizon, allowing their brilliance to fill the living room. As I bask in the simple beauty of their radiance, I make my way to a favorite spot to sit…hot coffee poured into one of my several Christmas mugs.

My coffee doesn’t taste any different in a festive holiday mug. Certainly, throughout the year I use a variety of mugs for my morning cup or two of hot java. I guess, it’s the child in me longing to keep Christmas special…a day full of wonder and excitement…the years of trying to guess what was in each package as beautifully wrapped presents made their way from hiding spots to resting under the tree’s decorated branches. 

Maybe my Christmas mug takes me back to cold afternoons when playing outside was my main form of entertainment. Deep fresh snow made way for building forts, snowmen or sliding down a nearby hill…even pulling a friend or two on a sled around neighborhood lawns.

 Once inside to warm up, shake off snow caked mittens, hats and boots, mom would have a mug of hot chocolate ready to warm up little hands, faces, and feet. If I was lucky, a marshmallow or two floated on the creamy brown chocolate….me blowing on it as the steam escaped…cooling it down just enough to enjoy its warmth as it trickled down my throat…warming up my insides with each sip…

This morning, I got on my chair to reach the Christmas mugs on the top shelf…all that were stored away when our last winter began to disappear as snow melted… promises of spring making an occasional appearance….

For the first time this advent season, I sat quietly in the glow of only the Christmas tree lights, sipping black coffee, taking in the simple beauty of our Christmas tree trimmed in red and white lights…red and white ornaments tucked in the branches…red beads strung through the branches.

The floor under the tree is empty except for Christmas stockings waiting to be filled. Presents are still in their hiding places. Wrapping will begin very soon, but for now, I’m content to have coffee in a snowman mug….grateful for another day to reflect on the goodness of God as I “wait” with excitement for Christmas Day 2022.

And tomorrow? Who knows…I’ll  do it all over again. After all, I have about four different mugs  of choice to enjoy my morning coffee….bringing me one day closer to another fanciful and magical day full of wonder and joy.

“Do you like my dress?”

“I like your earrings”

“I like the color purple”

“Do you like Spiderman?”

“Do you like The Hulk?”

“Do you like my hat?”

Where else but a classroom of four year olds can you be asked these simple questions? To their young inquisitive minds, these are very important questions; they come from a world that is simple, not crowded with worries about paying bills or fitting many tasks into the waking hours of each day. No, inside the walls of attending preschool two or three days a week, they live pretty much in a carefree world that consists of playtime….making friends…learning letters and numbers…developing friendships and cultivating cooperation skills for listening, following directions, taking turns, being self sufficient.

I’ve been a substitute teacher a few times now in our church’s preschool–and while I freely admit that working alongside this age group isn’t my favorite cup of tea–it’s been very enjoyable.  I’m thankful that the most in a room at a time is 12 to 14–a reasonable number when it comes to lining up for potty breaks, going outside, and helping to situate little bodies on the floor for circle time. These little ones have been in school for about 90 plus days now and all the routines seem to be pretty smooth now, with the exception of a few who like to push a boundary or challenge their teacher. How quickly our little ones learn to challenge…..sometimes with a certain look that screams “I am defying you!” or as one lit guy told me recently “I don’t have to do what you tell me”. Ya, that didn’t float well…but he gets a gold star for attempting to be his own person in the moment.

It’s fun to observe 12 to 14 different personalities…the boys who run immediately to the box of cars during free time while the girls head off to the kitchen or dress up clothes in the corner…right now there are glass frames to wear…so authentic looking that I’ve been caught off guard asking myself “when did ____ get glasses?–(smile) ….

Coloring or craft projects bring out the true creative artists…the ones who are a bit overboard with perfection even at age 4…the ones who could care less about coloring and scribble their way back to the box of cars or dinosaurs….those who take great pride in their work, showing me how well they can write their name…and yet, again, those who really don’t care about letters right now…there’s too many other important things to be doing….

There are the chatterboxes and there are the ones who don’t talk to me at all…their eyes say it all “I don’t know you and I’m not going to answer your questions “teacher” no matter how much you talk to me….well, at least today I had one lil guy who fit that category. I’ll chalk it up to this morning being the first time he’s had me in the classroom.

I am loving all the conversations I’m having with these sweet little people. To think I was worried I wouldn’t enjoy spending three hours with them every time I’ve been called in, has made way for my mind to be changed and my heart filling with more love and laughter and recently now, lots of hugs…hugs around my knees when I’m standing out on the playground, hugs around my neck when I’m seated in my chair during circle time or working on letter sheets…color pages. 

Today, I found myself imagining what these lil boys and girls will be like when they are older. Many of our former preschool students are now adults who have made their way to college and life with families of their own…now their world is more than letters, numbers, playtime and learning to sit on the floor without wiggling too much or chatting it up with a “neighbor friend”. They don’t need help with stubborn zippers or reminded to cough in their elbow…wash your hands before we eat lunch “friends”….”please lay down…be quiet….go to sleep…naps are wonderful boys and girls”….ah, yes, naptime…..thankfully, we never outgrow the pleasure of a good nap, especially after playing outside in the fresh air for a short recess.

“Do you like my hat and mittens?”

“Watch me run and jump, Miss Sue!”

“Can you open my juice?”

The questions from my little friends are important to their curious minds. And my answers of YES every time tells them I am listening…I care…I am helping to build their confidence.

Today, one of the best lines of music to my ears was “I love you!” as I put on my coat, grabbed my purse and left for the day, telling my “friends” “See you tomorrow!….”I love you, Miss Sue!”….In a few short mornings being with my friends, the “I love yous” are now replacing some of their questions….and I’m perfectly fine with that….my prayer for them includes that they will never lose the ease of telling someone “I love you!”

Footsteps & Retirement

Today is a day full of much reflecting…wondering….remembering….marveling…as today is my husband’s last day of full time employment with his current employer. How in the world did I/we arrive at this destination on the calendar that seemed SO far off when we were but in our mid 20’s….marriage…kids…relocating to another county….all of the experiences that come in between those wonderful events.

Other than babysitting in my teen years, my first true job “in the world” was working part time hours at a children’s zoo. My husband’s first job was at a McDonald’s near his home. From there he had numerous other jobs until he landed a full time position with a community bank in Saginaw, which is where we met….fell in love…got married…well, that’s another story in itself. For today, it’s notable that by his coming to work at the bank, we met and now some 40 plus years later we remain a couple (older, slower & graying), celebrating HIS last day working for a major insurance company as one of their in-house claims adjusters–looking at crashed cars via photos/emails every day….to approve/disapprove estimates for repair or totalled status. 

How did we get here? Psalm 37:23 says “The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives”. Goodness, do I ever believe these words and certainly have witnessed some twisting and winding steps laid on our path through this life as we know it….

• As I fondly recalled, God bringing my husband to work at the bank where I’d been employed for several years before  meeting him
• Driving us to Covenant Hospital two times to bring our children into the world
• Carrying furniture & boxes into our present home when we relocated in January 1989–can you spell c-o-l-d? And tired.
• Walking our daughter down the wedding aisle…twice…(that’s another story, too)
• Making pizza deliveries without complaining–due to a downturn in business affecting his employment
• Learning a new management position with an auto oil change company during the day…delivering pizza at night and on the weekends–without complaining
• Sitting, beaming with tear filled eyes as our son watched “his” bride come down their marriage aisle
• Every time we drove to football and basketball games near and far to watch our kids participate in school sports
• Every time he helped with one of our aging parents…his grandmother, his brother as he lay fading with the throes of cancer
• Every time he’s willingly volunteered for numerous jobs at our church, above all, being a prayer warrior for every staff member and our church family
• Playing inside or outside with our grandchildren…playground, bikes, snowmen, car washes, tea parties, making pizzas….nighttime book reading & prayers
• Delivering groceries to families who need a little extra help each week

Realistically, this is not an exhaustive list of where God has used my husband and I know that more “memories” will be added as he steps out of full time employment into a waiting world of free etched on a relaxed calendar. The lack of showing up Monday through Friday will now be replaced with some things he enjoys and will have more time to pursue….perhaps more day play dates with grandkids as their schedules allow…day trips here and there…chasing down a wrecked car that can be repaired and “flipped”…providing extra income and satisfaction from using gifts and talents to figure out needed repairs…all which ignite excitement…defining ”it’s all about the ‘hunt’…..

I love how Proverbs 16:9 affirms what the  penned: “A man’s mind plans his way (as he journeys through life), but the Lord directs his steps and establishes them”. (Amplified)

Friends have been teasing us about all of the 24/7 time we will have together now with his retirement…well, my response is “we will be learning new dance steps”…which really means not bumping into each other in the kitchen as we often have a habit of doing without always being gracious about our gentle collisions….hmmm, guess I better brush up on bible verses to remind me about being patient, kind, gentle…..Lord willing, we have MANY more steps to lay down on the paths being laid out for us…and I don’t want to misstep or miss out on those future adventures because of a stubbed toe or bruised feelings!

Once a very vibrant and loving man, a guy who worked hard, served well, and loved unconditionally with generous hugs and whispers of “I love you” in every conversation…slowly in his golden years that had robbed him of no longer able to make simple conversation….those sweet whispers of love that he was accustomed to sharing with loved ones, now gone….eyes that no longer focused to tell him who he was staring at through lens clouded by uncertainty and the fear that comes with reality of immortality…once in a great while, in spite of all that he held in his life’s treasure box, a moment of clarity came when somewhere, deep within his spirit…he was able to whisper “family is everything”.

This handsome humble man who walked under a blanket of soft unconditional love trimmed with ribbons of deep wisdom was my father. When words were no longer forthcoming, his hazel eyes took over conveying the emotions of his heart and mind. Hands often clutched in desperation to make sense of all that was lost….yet one thing remained…and on rare days when clarity was a gift…those soft words “Family is everything” allowed him to communicate all that he desired.

This week is Thanksgiving. For many of us, it will be a day when we are with family that we haven’t seen throughout the year. The table will be set waiting for dinner guests to fill plates with all the delicious foods that have been lovingly prepared. Around the table, each unique personality will take a seat, being a part of the whole that defines “family”. As you look around the table your eyes will land on the host and hostess. They are excited yet tired. Rising early in order to begin preparations, they take a deep breath of satisfaction that everything is ready. Several small children sit on their chairs kicking their feet waiting for mashed potatoes to be passed and “grace” to be said. Laughter fills the air as conversations turn to “who gets to carve the bird?–in past years it was always John, but he’s not with us now. He’s dining at another table…one that was prepared for him before time began…he’s not alone, many beloved family members are with him….laughter once again turns to fond memories of past Thanksgivings with him at the head of the table…cousins reminisce over stories of eating mashed potatoes, stuffing them in cheeks and not swallowing…folks choosing “light” or “dark” meat as a preference…and the debate about Cool Whip versus real whipping cream as the appropriate topping for homemade pumpkin and apple pie. With each bite the Thanksgiving meal will slowly be consumed, filling empty bellies that eventually will coax many to find a comfortable chair to relax and tune out all the banter and echoed sounds of clean up duty.

“Family is Everything”. On this Thanksgiving, my prayer is that all of us–no matter which table we find ourselves–will embrace those who are joining us. There may be the relative who talks too much…or the one who can’t make it through the day without a bottle of wine within reach to fill an empty glass…the one who gets easily offended or angry…the one who is quick to brag about possessions rather than the value of relationships…and the empty chair where the one who detached from any family gathering years ago because of hurt and unresolved relational matters is missing, again…

All of us will be at a table this year. No matter if your family is one that loves unconditionally, where laughter flows easily, where hugs abound, perfection still escapes. Flaws and character defects might be put “on hold”. No two families look alike. There is no perfect family. Not every table will look as though Martha Stewart came to decorate and set up for the hosts. Conversations will ebb and flow…disagreements may come…compliments will abound. Gentle teasing will usher in the whipped cream debate…In true humility, no amount of laughter or arguing will fill the empty chairs around our tables.

Is “Family Everything”? Yes, even with our flaws and disappointments, we are the totality of aspiring love inside hearts that are full…sometimes empty as we long for just one more whisper….”Family is Everything”….

May you enjoy a beautiful Thanksgiving this year…look around your table…hug your loved ones…pray for those who chose to be absent…be thankful for loved ones who set a good example and now dine at a table that  also has empty chairs–chairs waiting for you to fill someday. Your Host is waiting. He’s made all the preparations. He’s ready for you. Are you?

Childhood innocence. What a beautiful time for a child…even for adults who are willing to be a part of a little person’s life. This past week I got some good daily doses of living in the world of young minds…no cluttered worries….lots of pretend play….embracing life through eyes that only see beauty in everything and once in a while a few tears, too. My week began as usual on Monday and quickly escalated with being called to substitute in our church’s preschool program–seems a nasty virus had made its way through the children collided with the teachers and took them out like a big avalanche carving its path down a mountainside….so, four days this week I spent several hours with three and four year olds which I admit is outside my comfort zone but let me tell you, it was pure joy. I’d like to share some of the things I enjoyed while being with these precious lil humans.

Tuesday’s colder weather gave us our first dusting of snow in our community. That day I was in class with three year olds and they were so excited to go outside on the playground. In order to do so, that meant snow pants, jackets, boots, hats and mittens. Their teacher gave them loving instructions as to what order to put them on….first your snow pants….then your boots….then your jacket….then your hat…then your mittens. Sounds simple, right? The chaos in the hallway getting their gear on was fun to watch as some had listened…others obviously had been distracted, evidenced by the order they were putting on each item…mittens were scattered along with hats as their teacher and I played investigators finding rightful owners. Nothing could have drowned out the “Teacher, I need help!” that filled the air. We made it to the playground and watched the kids catch snowflakes on their tongues….make tiny snowballs to throw “at the wall but not at your friends”….witness little white cheeks turn rosy pink from the crisp wintry air….returning inside just in time for moms, dads, grandmas to take their treasures home.

One of my favorite times during the preschool day is their morning circle time. It’s encouraging to watch and listen as jobs are assigned….learning which day of the month it is and counting down to it…standing to say the Pledge of Allegiance…and listening to a story….me giggling as 12 little people sit on their bottoms, some quite still…others that HAVE to fidget…have a hand raised continuously because they have something very important to share like Wednesday morning when I was in with a group of 4 year olds…their teacher was explaining a new playground rule and when she finished numerous hands shot up in the air! In response to hearing that one of their “friends” had bumped his head, well, several of them had their own war wound stories to share….I had to turn my face when a girl informed us “my gramma had to get a shot in her butt one time”….alrighty then, sweetheart. Thanks for sharing that.

Heading down to a large group activity with those same four year olds I was at the rear of their line when one of the boys turned around to tell me “Luke just farted”. Oh my. The fascination with bodily functions starts early. Truthfully–farting stories are still a popular topic in my family. Everyone loves a good fart story, right?

Perhaps the sweetest moment I had with the four year olds was during their free play. A few of the kids built a long tubular tower from hollow connecting pieces. Their goal was to “touch the ceiling” but they didn’t have enough pieces to accomplish the task. Not to be disappointed, they found a couple of marbles to launch from the top of the tower and listen as it rattled its way down to the floor. Giggles galore as they yelled “Look, Miss Amy. Look, Miss Sue! Look at what we made!” They laughed when they realized Miss Sue wasn’t tall enough to launch the marble…belly chuckles continued as they found out Miss Amy could reach because “she’s bigger than you Miss Sue!” Plastic towers that wobble and two marbles that make a clickety clack were very entertaining. No electronics needed here, right?

Who knew that Hershey Kiss candies were a prized goal to achieve? Not me for sure, until I was asked by one sweet girl during nap time “Will I get a Hershey Kiss?”

“I don’t know”, I replied. “How do you get one of those?”

“We have to rest or be very quiet, those are our two options”. Options? Do most four year olds know what that word means let alone use it properly? Naptime continued with my little I Want A Hershey Kiss girl wiggling about on her cot, doing her best to rest and be quiet….they all got a Hershey Kiss at the end of the day. It’s the small things, right?

Preschoolers are busy little people. They play hard…they are easily distracted….they are all so much alike while still being individuals. There are those that go straight to the dress up clothes…who doesn’t want to be a princess or a mermaid? Others assemble a race or train track to play with cars and all kinds of vehicles until clean up time. Creative cooks bring plastic food to “here, try this Miss Sue, I made it just for you”....maybe one or two sit quietly at the coloring table and get lost in their own small world creating masterpieces of art. Will their drawings go on the fridge at home for all to see? I hope so.

A week being with three and four year olds was exhilarating and exhausting all at the same time….could I do school with them every day?…admittedly, that would be a true stretch of my usually comfortable routine I’ve built for myself…yet, I can honestly say I wouldn’t trade this week for all the quiet days at home for anything. Where else would I be asked ever so honestly “why do you have makeup?”  or told “I don’t have to do what you tell me”.…

“I like makeup” and “Yes, yes, you do need to do what I tell you young sir”. They learn to challenge us early, right? And that’s why all of them are in preschool. Life is simple. Sit still. Listen. Play. Rest. Do all this and get a Hershey Kiss. When I came home these past three days I took a nap after my lunch. I was quiet. I didn’t wiggle around. But, when I woke up  I didn’t have anyone to give me a Hershey Kiss….darn.

A current “buzzword” in our present day is “inclusive”. It’s a word tossed about frequently from particular people groups who feel their identity and worth as a person is either devalued or ignored. It’s also a word being used in our political and education arenas as well as media anchors on radio and television. Its first definition according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary is “the act of including”.  In order to be included, at first are people or things first excluded? If so, what determined the reason for that decision or what are or were the circumstances that caused or continue to leave someone feeling outside the circle of acceptance? Admittedly, I feel as though the word “inclusive” has come to the surface of our current culture to draw attention to those who feel “less than” when it comes to their gender, skin color, sexual orientation…anything that appears to be “outside” the norm of social acceptance. I also admit that I have and continue to struggle with my own thoughts and prejudices towards the uprising in promoting a person’s identity being rooted in those latter descriptions. When I struggle, I have nowhere else to go but to scripture. I cannot think of anyone who was more inclusive than Jesus, yet even He, whose ways and thoughts are not of this earth…or my own mind with all of its preconceived thoughts and opinions…has left me an example of “including” others who are very different than me without jeopardizing the truth of the gospel which, when applied to a dark hardened heart, brings forth repentance which is laying down former sin(s) and pursuing a life that seeks to be honoring and holy to Him alone. In order to teach ME His example, I looked at two people in the New Testament.

In John 8 Jesus is in a group of people, teaching in the temple courts. The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. After presenting “their case” against her to Jesus the question was asked that according to their law she should be stoned, but these men wanted to know what “HE” would say. In what remains a mystery to this day, Jesus gives a non verbal response and merely begins writing “something” on the ground. Questions continue to be pelted at Him which are met by Jesus standing to His feet by now and responding with his own question: “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her”. And, second mystery–He writes more words on the ground. Their plot, their numerous questions, and two lists penned in the dirt caused all of them to scatter until only Jesus and the woman remain. Alone. Can you imagine standing or sitting alone with Jesus? This new man who has been traveling among your communities teaching and healing? Performing miraculous acts? Preaching messages totally foreign to your Jewish traditions? 

Does Jesus attack her because of her choices in life? She’s an adulteress. She’s involving herself in sexual relationships outside of being married. Is she herself married or is she a prostitute? Those details aren’t given to us other than her conduct, her choices fall under the category of sin…but now, alone with Jesus, those fallen sins are forgiven by Him as He declares that He will not condemn her. But, and please, don’t miss this–His final words to her are the life changer: “Go now and LEAVE your life of sin” (emphasis mine) He gives her two charges. Go. Leave. He doesn’t tell her to merely “go” and live your life. He doesn’t “leave” her as a now forgiven woman to return to the lifestyle that caused a frightful audience with her peers, religious leaders, and Him. It’s quite evident that being included in His deep love for her by the forgiveness of her sins is an admonition to “change”. This is a message for all who are living in deeply embedded lives of sin, a need to consider–Jesus does and will forgive–but He also requires “change”.

The second person I looked at was Philip’s encounter with an Ethiopian eunuch. Their encounter is described in Acts 8. When looking at their meeting, first I was curious about the definition for “eunuch” as used here. A quick search of the Greek word shows it’s defined as: alone in bed *castrated *Abstain from marriage. Further descriptions of the Ethiopian eunuch revealed he would have been a man with great responsibilities in the household of his Queen. So, I’m guessing he had a place of prominence in her home, entrusted to the care and supervision of others on her staff as well as property she owned. This is no ordinary man other than he is impotent–either from birth or intentional castration in order to serve under her rule. 

This nameless royal servant is traveling and while doing so he is reading from Isaiah’s writings when Philip comes along. Philip isn’t merely walking up to the chariot either. He RUNS. He runs because “first” the Holy Spirit told him to go near “that” chariot and stay near it”. Why? Because, secondly, Philip HEARD the eunuch reading. And that’s when the encounter launches another miracle of conversion. A divine appointment between two very different men results in the eunuch understanding God’s plan of salvation, asking to be baptized and here’s the exciting part for me–”he went on his way rejoicing”. He didn’t get removed from his assigned duties to his queen. His physical mutilation wasn’t miraculously restored. He remained impotent physically but was filled supernaturally by understanding God’s Word, repenting of his own sin after understanding the good news of Jesus, and choosing baptism –in water along a desert road! (Incidentally, though I have NO proof…I am imagining that the eunuch is a black skinned man interacting with Philip who would probably have been very light brown or light skinned; he was working along the Sea of Galilee when Jesus called him to become a disciple = two very different people by definition of outward appearance who meet and engage with one another!)

A woman who was an adulteress, most likely feeling very empty without a stable healthy marriage relationship.  An impotent man who must have felt some degree of emptiness, now filled with great joy. What do they have in common? Jesus literally met them where they were “at” in life, acknowledged their present situation without name calling. No finger pointing. No accusations or digging up their past with specific details.  He did so by being physically present with the woman. He did it again through the obedience and ministry of Philip, serving a resurrected Christ who had ascended into heaven before the eunuch began a journey down a dry and arid desert road.

What does any of this have to do with being “inclusive”. My first thoughts are to remember that every person has been created in God’s image. That doesn’t mean that every person is perfect. Our fallen world creates many flaws, numerous failures, a myriad of lies–all of which bombard God’s desire for every one of us to embrace an identity that is rooted in Him and not defined by our gender…behaviors….outward appearance….skin tones…If that were the case, I would need to declare my identity as a short, plump, light skinned woman who has a tendency to gossip, overeat, become angry, resentful, judgemental…. While I could “be caught in those things” and brought before a group of my peers to be investigated…I am not. I’m a daughter of the Most High God. I met Jesus on my own dry desert road. I drank His living water. I tasted and saw that He was and IS good. I am forgiven. Redeemed. Set free. I am rooted in Him and the truth of all scripture, that He is for me and not against me. I can and pray He uses me to minister to those who feel as though they are “outside the circle of being included”…to bring them in…but not “leave” them the same when they step back into everyday life. That’s what Jesus did. It’s a hard truth, but then, it’s His Word, His teachings, His commands, not mine. Not yours. He’s God and we are not.

To My Readers:

Today’s blog entry is rooted from moments spent in self reflection…digging into scripture to help expose and describe how my heart feels not only today….how momentarily I grieved for this recent midterm election and some of the results. I read comments on my social media pages and I am deeply saddened by how our culture began describing people–good or bad–how far we have wandered from sound Biblical teachings founded on the Truth of a Most Holy God and His Son Jesus Christ. Christianity and those of us who follow Him, are quickly becoming a group that is being challenged by secular teachings and attempts to destroy/distort the very truth taught in Who God is and what He demands/requires of His people. So, today, I looked (very briefly) at the buzzword “inclusive” and penned my own thoughts. I know that Jesus wants me to love all people, but I also know that I am not required to condone what He calls sin. 

Stuck in my Head

Spending time with grandchildren is probably one of the best ways to fill my cup that holds joy. I’m always ready to hear any question that comes into their little mind or to overhear conversations during their pretend play.

Recently, I had to run a short errand and my two Hunt grandkids went along for the ride. As we rode along I could hear Macklynn, age 7, in the back seat singing one of her songs she’s learned in KidMin (today’s swanky name for Sunday School)...”Jesus, You’re My Superhero”. She had sung it through about four times before stopping to tell me…”Gramma, sometimes a song gets stuck in my head.” Ahhhhh…a teachable moment arrived on the scene….

“Macky”, I responded. “That’s great. Wanna know something?”

“What, gramma”.

“There is a Bible verse that says to hide God’s Word in your heart. It’s Psalm 119:11 (Before you get all excited that I knew the chapter and verse, don’t. I merely remember the general instructions.

“I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you.”

Driving along, I briefly explained to her that remembering a song is like hiding God’s Word in her heart. Hmmmm…wait for it…..

Soon, her next question…”What does  ‘your word’ mean?”

At age 7 she may be a bit too young to comprehend that in the Greek language which refers to Jesus as “The Word…”—”Logos” that He is thought of as the entire Bible when it’s read. So, my simple explanation to her was “when we think about ALL the Bible we are thinking about Jesus…and every verse…and even your songs are able to be memorized and hidden in our heart…that we can pull them out when we are sad, lonely, need to feel safe or loved….and, again, her “ohhhhhhhh”, indicating she understood with her brain wheels turning. 

Years ago, I was helping a friend with Vacation Bible School. Jean was teaching the kids songs during the music segment of the day. I have never forgotten her loving instruction to them as they learned their cute songs. “Boys and girls, the wonderful thing about learning these songs is that you can sing them anywhere/anytime you need to be close to Jesus…..at home alone in your room….playing at school during recess…..sitting in class taking a test…..feeling sad….or especially when you don’t have your Bible with you to read…”

Sadly, with the chaos happening around the world…wars…people being persecuted for their Christian faith….even parts of American society where being a Christian is challenging…I can’t help but wonder if we are living in the days that Jean was preparing our little children for some forty years later. I hope not, but I’m not persuaded that “all is well” and that “peace on earth” is anything other than the peace that only God gives to His children…young and old.

Today, as I write about a superhero song…with lyrics that challenge the strength and popularity of Superman…Barbie…Actionman…my young granddaughter is learning to have fun with those characters but moreso, focusing on the BEST superhero of all ages….Jesus. 

Jesus you’re my superhero.You’re my star,my best friend.Jesus you’re my superhero.You’re my star,my best friend.

A quick glance at the October calendar shows that Halloween is fast approaching. As the warm days of late fall scoot past us, fading into cooler days that require a jacket or heavy sweater, leaves are turning an array of colors….winds are more at play in the air than not….rain teases with hints of snowflakes that will soon become winter’s regular source of joy or disdain depending on perspective. But, before we can build snowmen, or drag out dusty shovels, there is Halloween.

I got to reminiscing of my childhood memories that surround this day of the year tagged as absolutely acceptable to dress up in a cute or outlandish costume…yell at people to come to their doors…and fill your bucket or bag with candy. Lots of candy depending on your neighbors’ generosity or how many houses you’d “hit”….a common form of communicating success back in the late 50s and 60s during my Trick or Treating career. “Hey, how many houses did you ‘hit’”? “How many blocks did your parents let you go?” “Did you get lots of good stuff? Any crummy apples or popcorn balls? Ya, there were always those few people that gave out shiny red apples or homemade popcorn balls. Who wanted those? Not me, as I recall.

My first store bought costume was that of a witch. My outfit consisted of a skirt, cape, hat and mask. I wore that simple costume for at least two or three years…until one year I “went as a hobo”…. No fancy bag or bucket for me. Most of us kids used a pillowcase to carry our candy from house to house, twisting it round and round so our treasures were kept safe as we made our way up and down streets illuminated only by porch lights and the big street lights on corners. We always traveled in small groups–most parents stayed home to hand out candy…very few teenagers joined us because the general rule was by the time you reached junior high age, trick or treating ended for you. The evening was dedicated to the “little kids”…

Our neighborhood had a big number of kids so the age range was wide…there were always enough little kids to entertain every year…and as the boys in our neighborhood got too old, they came up with other ways to enjoy a dark night…

I remember one year that some of the boys–one of my brothers included–came up with a coffin and put Donny in it, dressed in a scary costume. Donny was smaller than the other guys so he was the logical choice for them to carry around….allowing him to pop up every once in a while and yell BOO! They were quite effective….we fed their desire to be scary…running away  screaming in terror…even though we knew it was Donny. There’s something eerie about a dark sky, a neighborhood slowly losing light as porch lights turned off….the boys finding trees or bushes to hide the coffin until a group of us walked by their hiding spots. 

Celebrating Halloween has changed over the years. What usually took about a week to purchase a costume has become big business now, with stores dedicated to this lone holiday. Yard decorations that are lifesize now accompany or replace one lonely jack-o-lantern that sits on a porch waiting for children to arrive. More elaborate costumes hang from clothing racks…taking away any need to make a homemade costume I guess. Are the days of going through family clothes to become a hobo…or cutting up an old sheet to become a mummy or ghost behind us? 

To be honest, Halloween gives me mixed emotions. I miss the simplicity of the event. I miss homemade costumes. I miss staring at the skyline and clock, waiting for complete darkness to swallow the last rays of daylight, signaling it was time to “hit” the sidewalks.  I miss my mom going through my candy, taking the candy bars as though it was some form of payment…I miss the innocence of not worrying about my candy being tampered or tainted…I miss jack-o-lanterns glowing on the corner of porches….I don’t miss getting shiny red apples or homemade popcorn balls…somethings never change in that respect I guess.

Labels

Tanisha. Julie. Stephanie. Gloria. Lisa. Lyndsey. Wendy. Frank. Tom. Branden. Barbara. Jay. Logan. Denise. Jaden. Melissa. Ashley. Tammy. Jason. Cheryl. Dan. Jerrid. 

Everyone named above is either a family member or a friend. Each is unique. Some of them have brown skin…some have white skin…one has red hair….one is a Type I diabetic.. Two of them are in recovery from addictions…one is a doctor and one a teacher….one is a very good friend with graying curly hair…one is adopted…one is Chinese…one has passed away…two are pastors (one female, one male)…one is a single mom…two are “gluten free”….one is very blond…one is a widow….one is a young married mother of two…one is married and has three boys and a daughter…..one is Korean AND adopted….one is gay…

If I were to introduce you to either of these dear people I would say “please meet Tanisha”. If I were talking about her in a conversation with you I would refer to her as Tanisha, one of my very best friends.  I could tell you what a wonderful job she is doing parenting a child all by herself; she is a single mom. Does her skin color matter? No.

What about Frank? Frank is a great guy we met this past summer when he came to our church to speak about global missions work within our denomination. He spent a Saturday night in our home. When I tell you about Frank and the work he’s doing for our Lord, is it important that you know his ethnicity? Not to me it doesn’t.

When I brag about Melissa or introduce her to you….do you NEED to know she’s a Type I diabetic? No, not really, not unless you’re close enough in our circle to watch for warning signs if her numbers go wonky. Then it matters….

If I’m talking about my two good guy friends who are part of my Celebrate Recovery Forever Family do I need to tell you one is tall, one is shorter in stature? Or divulge to you their addictions? No.

Branden is a cousin. Is he brown or white? You can guess. Jaden is a great niece. Is she the doctor in our family or the adopted gal? Does it matter when I’m bragging about them? Only if their achievements and how they came into our family is part of the story.

Labels. I don’t care how our society has been quick to “label” people. White, Brown. Black. Skinny, Fat. Tall. Short. Homophobic. Xenophobic. Radical. Liberal. Conservative. Leftist. Deplorable. Dem. MAGA. Republican. Gay. Bi. Straight. Trans. Fluid. Furrie. 

I’m finding myself in a place of self reflection today, asking myself how our culture got to this place? It seems that suddenly some labels offend us while others do not. I guess a simple way for me to justify the need for a label is those found on our food products. For some people, it’s crucial to their health to know if something contains gluten or too much sugar. 

When it comes to skin color, I guess it’s important to differentiate skin color, hair style, color of eyes, height, etc.only  if we’re describing someone to a police officer. In everyday conversations…um, I don’t think it’s necessary. Merely my humble opinion and my personal decision to regard my family and friends as fellow human beings, living in communities…much like crayons sharing the space in their box. 

For me, the most used word lately in any news story is the term “racist”. I hold a lot of disdain for this word. Aren’t we ONE human race? Did I miss something in science back in junior high school or Sunday School? Didn’t God create ONE mankind and from the stroke of His creative artbrush make us all  different shades of skin tone? Some light…some dark….some very dark…and some brown…some who sunburn easily and others who take on beautiful tans during summer months. 

I always chuckle when I’m filling out a form that asks gender. We’ve gone from two to several choices now. Then there’s the boxes to check if you are caucasion, hispanic, black, or other.  So, under “Other” I have begun checking that box and writing in Child of God.Call me radical if you want. If society wants everyone to be labeled,  I’m choosing  what is MY truth. I guess doing so may cause me to earn another “label”–rebellious one or radical.  It’s okay…I’m sticking with Child of God. I like the sound of that much better than anything other people might throw on me in the hope that it sticks.

Water Troughs & Baptism

What does a shiny animal water trough and baptism have in common? To the average person, nothing. To the one going under the water, everything.

This past weekend our 7 year old granddaughter was baptized. She was the only youngster to go under the water Sunday morning. A second person, much older than she, followed suit. Both went under the water…washing away the “old” person and coming up “new”. It’s exciting when any one makes the decision to be baptized in a public setting…it’s another whole new level of joy when it’s your own child! Seeing her smile…witnessing her enthusiasm…hearing people hoot and holler words of love as hands clapped in a fury of happiness for this dear little soul is a moment I will never forget.

Following Macklynn’s baptism…coming out of the water….she jumped into her daddy’s arms and snuggled in as he carried her off the platform, warm towel around her little wet body. I was able to capture the moment…a usual pose for father and daughter. She loves being held by her dad, wrapping her small arms around his neck where it is very evident she feels protected, safe, cared for no matter what comes her way…that’s what a good daddy does for his children.

I think the two of them–caught in this familiar pose–show a perfect example of how each one of us who belong to God can be assured of His perfect and unconditional love, too. Though she is a mere seven, Macklynn knows this truth. She was dedicated to the Lord when an infant and has been in church almost every weekend…she has learned to pray…at mealtime…before bed….for loved ones who need healing…she’s been an active participant in godly conversations with family and friends. She knows her Father.

On one particular Saturday morning, when Macky was about 3 years old, she came into the bedroom where I have my prayer chair in a corner. I had gotten up earlier than she (she had spent the night) and by the time I had finished reading a portion of scripture and began writing my prayers in my journal, she entered the room. Of course, she asked what I was doing and as I explained I also told her that if she made the decision to stay with me, she needed to be quiet. She agreed. Before long, the quiet was interrupted with her asking if she could write her prayers too. I gave her a piece of paper, pencil and she sat down on the floor by my feet. “Gramma, I don’t know how to write the “numbers” (her toddlerish word for letters).

“It’s ok, Macky. God can read what you write.”

Very carefully she drew 3 wavy lines across her page.

“Imitate God, therefore, in everything you do, because you are his dear children. Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ. He loved us and offered himself as a sacrifice for us, a pleasing aroma to God”. Ephesians 5: 1-2

Well, scripture says to “imitate God” but I’m pretty sure He doesn’t mind that she desired to copy gramma that Saturday morning with her prayers being written out to Him…that precious morning is a treasured memory now….she’s growing up very nicely, currently attending second grade in school, learning how to read and write her “numbers” and “letters”.  Prayers are taking on a bit more maturity…snuggles with her daddy are ongoing…being under the wings of her heavenly Father continues to be her rightful place, too…arms around His neck…as He guides each step on the path He has lovingly laid before her.