Tag Archives: life

FAMILY IS EVERYTHING

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“A father loves completely, gives quietly, teaches gently and inspires deeply”.

Though not consumed by it at all, this week my thoughts have been infiltrated by quiet reminders about my dad. His birthday is Oct. 15, he would have been 105. He died in 2012 after living a pretty amazing life, taken down for the last 3 years by the horrible effects of Alzheimer’s Disease, an illness I wish on no one. This disease robs people of dignity, purpose, awareness of day to day life complete with daily routines or occasions to celebrate family experiences. Mainly, being in the midst of the disease’s throes steals precious memories and ability to communicate. As much as it deeply saddened me and my family to see our dad and grandfather live in anguish, the disease didn’t define his life. It was merely the closing chapter of his life’s book, with less words written to describe that time as compared to almost 90 years of a life that thrived.

Did my father love completely? I don’t have enough space or words to fully answer that question. In simple terms, yes. “Family is everything” was one of his last formed phrases after moving into assisted living care. Conservations during those three years slowly declined in substance. Searching for the right word became a common struggle, yet those three words often summed up every visit with him.

Quiet and gentle? Those are two very good adjectives for dad. I don’t remember a raised voice or harsh word spoken to any of us kids. Discipline came with reasonable conversations, direct instructions, sometimes with just enough sarcasm to accompany a serious facial expression to drive home his point. Physical punishment didn’t exist in our childhood years. Maybe it was because my grandfather had taken liberty with spankings that left emotional scars and a decision to “do differently” with us kids.

Did my dad teach gently and inspire deeply? I smile remembering how many times my brother Mark’s bike lay in pieces on the driveway. For some reason, Mark enjoyed taking things apart, learning how to reassemble. Dad’s only complaint was that too many times missing tools from his workbench interfered with completing his own projects. Mark was the one who dad took along on home improvement projects he did as side jobs to earn extra income for our family. Mark had the aptitude and interest in learning how to measure, plan, and build which came in handy when he built his own home years ago. Not surprisingly, dad was there to help, still able to climb a ladder and yield a hammer well into his late 60s at the time. Brother Dave didn’t get the gift of craftsmanship by any means. What he lacked in that department was made up with an appetite to read books, retain the knowledge he gained and hold conversations with anyone he met. He was a natural athlete even though he never played an organized sport. His physical strength came in handy to carry building materials. Dave was more comfortable with a book on his lap instead of a hammer in his hand.

Inspiration from dad was given mostly from example versus verbal encouragement or commentary. We knew how to love because we witnessed firsthand how he embraced family, his own as well as in-law members. Acceptance of each one seems to have come easily to him. I like to think it’s because he had seen how his parents lovingly accepted a variety of 11 sons and daughters in law as each child married. 

Dad took our family to church, too. Growing up as a kid on a farm, it was his mother who took responsibility to get the children to church. When attending in person wasn’t possible, “church” was held in the living room. She was the family’s spiritual leader for many years. My mother was raised going to church since birth and her relationship with Christ was foremost in her life. Dad joined her church after they married and that’s the one we attended until I left home. He became a trusted quiet leader in the congregation, yet I can recall times he spoke his mind at board meetings, never to condemn someone’s opinions, rather to shed common sense biblical truth on matters of discussion.

So, as I think about his birthday rolling around again, I can’t help but smile. I am deeply grateful for his life and the role he embraced in my own life teaching, encouraging, correcting, leading by example from a spirit of wonderful love.

“Family is everything”. I’d love to hear him say those three words one more time. That last time he spoke to me he was struggling. He had taken hold of my hands and looked at me with great intention as he wanted to express “something”,  trying to push aside the clouds of dementia swarming in his mind. At that moment, I didn’t need a long flowing narrative about whatever was anchoring his thoughts. Those three words spoke everything I needed to hear…love and gentle quietness in an aged mind,  surrounded by circumstances and precious memories that spanned a life worth living.

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According to census.gov the number of children living in fatherless homes has doubled in the last 50 years. That statistic is heartbreaking. It’s also a reflection that “something” has become broken in our family relationships. Whatever the reasons for this outcome, I pray that our children will become a priority to fathers everywhere.

A LESSON IN HUMILITY

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“A simple act of kindness has the power to change a life”. (Author Unknown)

Lasting impressions or experiences in life have a way of remaining in one’s memories either to bring a smile or a pause of reflection. In today’s instance, it’s a smile underscored with gratitude for choosing kindness and patience.

I was in the middle of a very busy day filled with multiple reports, letters, memos, customer files to type. This was before the days of using a word processor to ease these tasks, everything was still being done on an electric typewriter. Factoring in taking phone calls or assisting an occasional walk in customer, this particular day was filled with many responsibilities that needed completion in a timely manner. Thus, interruptions were not my best friend. Looking back I can now see where a disruption to my work actually could be defined as divine appointments. Why? Because by taking a look at who’s involved, the reason for a brief meeting, and all the emotions that were produced, there was a lesson to be gained. So, even though I don’t remember the day of the week or the exact time when she came to our office, I can still see her face, her tears, fear and grief as I brought her to a place of privacy and quiet to answer her questions.

Sitting with me at a small table was a beautiful woman in her mid to late 40s. Her hair was styled very neatly. As I listened to her request for help, she began pulling bank statements along with her checkbook from her handbag. “Can you help me? I don’t know what to do…how to write a check….or what to do with these statements.”

I was caught off guard. I thought her visit to the bank was merely to reconcile a transaction or two that could be solved easily in a few minutes. Instead, I realized the problem was more complex. What I could do quickly and naturally was totally foreign to her. But why the tears?

As I sorted the statements, taking her checkbook in hand to open and lay aside, she explained as tears rolled down her brown cheeks that her husband had recently died unexpectedly. She was mourning. She was still in shock. And she was full of anxiety. Slowly she told me how it was he who had always paid the bills. He took care of all their finances. She wasn’t upset by being left out so to speak. She was describing how–in this sudden new place of being widowed–do I do this.

Over the course of what had to be an hour or so with her–all the while in the back of my mind–I’m thinking “I have SO much work to do….” I found myself feeling resentful, not towards her, but facing the time her needs were taking from me. 

Like a teacher with a young student, I walked her through how to write a check in order to pay a bill, and how to enter it in the register of her checkbook. Because a couple of months had gone by since her husband’s death and her account hadn’t been reconciled to bank statements, I made the decision to start her balance with the amount “the bank” reflected on our system. With that number, I taught her how to add, subtract, and gave a brief lesson on how to “balance” her book balance with the bank’s when her monthly statement was received.

All seemed to go well as she listened and appeared to comprehend my instructions. Yet, I could tell she remained apprehensive. She even mentioned she may need more help and alluded that I could become the person she’d lean on. Although that was certainly feasible, it wasn’t an ideal solution. To ease her fears, I asked “Is there someone you trust to help you for a while? To sit down with you to help write checks and balance your account until you’re totally comfortable on your own?”

“I think so,” she said. “I can ask my pastor.”

Ah. I breathed a sigh of relief, for her and for me. “I’m so happy you have a pastor, someone you trust to help you.” Being able to affirm her choice and send her on her way was a win win for both of us. She could begin to move on in the complexity of embracing widowhood and I could selfishly return to my workload.

But, before she gathered her statements and checkbook to return them to her purse, she caught me off guard as she bowed her head, closed her eyes and quietly said “Jesus, thank you for giving me this woman to help me in my time of need … .Amen.” Those aren’t the exact words I am able to remember from over 40 years ago. My lapse in memory in that regard isn’t important. What’s at the forefront is a lesson in humility I learned that busy work day. God used a task oriented young woman and a grieving widow to break down what’s truly important, an experience directly pictured in Matthew’s gospel:  “Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven.” (Matthew 10:32)

I was still quite new in my own faith journey as a Christian when I met this “customer”. She’d been living in a relationship with Him longer than I. That day I was consumed by worrying if I’d get my work finished for coworkers relying on me. She was focused on expressing humble gratitude to God for meeting a need that had previously filled her with anxiety.  Her sweet humility and boldness for Christ far outweighed my selfishness or her fears.

An online quote I found says “A simple act of kindness has the power to change a life”

Over 40 years ago two simple acts actually changed two lives. As one grieving widow learned some basic skills, one slightly embarrassed young woman observed genuine faith and appreciation expressed in an unashamed prayer of thanksgiving.

I never saw her again. As time went on after our brief encounter I did think of her on occasion, hoping she was getting the help she needed. Thoughts of her soon faded, until today when memories of her came back as a reminder for me–hopefully for you, too,– that indeed, “simple acts of kindness DO change our lives”.

SAWDUST MEMORIES

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Ah, the arrival of hot sticky summer days and evenings is one of those changes in Michigan seasons that awaken more memories from my childhood. Dad arrived home from work promptly at 5:15 pm and the five of us sat down to supper no later than 5:30. There was no central air conditioning in the house, mom moved a floor fan from room to room to help cool her daily tasks. On extremely hot days we often ate our evening meal in the breezeway which afforded some relief from heat. After eating, most nights you’d find my dad out in the garage working on some “project”. That was his workspace for power tools and more importantly, an escape from any stresses that built up during his work day as the chief building inspector for the City of Saginaw.

With the garage door open, table saw or other smaller power tool humming along, his quiet constant whistle accompanied whatever buzzing sound came from his variety of woodworking tools. The openness of the garage allowed him to see any of numerous kids riding by on bikes, others out for a walk around the block, neighbors mowing lawns. Sometimes one of the youngsters would pop in to say hello to him, ask some silly questions and bounce along, returning to their bike or walk. On one particular evening dad’s work was interrupted by a pair of young men out canvassing for their church. The question they posed to my dad was “do you think God has ‘anything’ to do with what’s going on in the world?”

Dad was quick on his feet, always. Whether a person needed some spontaneous wit or a word of encouragement, he was your man. Therefore, there was no long hesitation to give these guys an answer. “Anything?”, dad repeated. “Well, He has “everything” to do with our world.”  I remember their awkward long pause. Apparently their cheat card didn’t tell them how to respond to such a simple statement.

Maybe you’ve pondered the same query that “anything” and “everything” pose to us regarding God’s role in the world. This conversation my dad had took place in the 60s and by then I was finishing my junior high school years, old enough to see for myself all the changes taking place in our nation such as:

  • 1964 Civil Rights Act Passed
  • 1964 Beatles Arrive on the Scene
  • 1968 Martin Luther King Assassinated
  • 1969 Moon Landing & Woodstock Festival make headlines
  • Viet Nam War Rages

From my own viewpoint, every daily headline in the Saginaw News was of great significance. Indeed, the 60s brought about a lot of change, yet nothing then or now came as a surprise to God. Not once has He ever wrung His hands and whispered “well, I didn’t see that coming”. 

Paul writes in Colossians 1: 16 “For in Him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through Him and for Him. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” Who is Paul writing about here? That person is Jesus Christ.

Whether we are contemplating nature, other countries, kings and presidents, other people groups, Jesus is part of it all. Those things we see and cannot see, He’s in it. Those rulers and presidents you dislike? He’s over them, too. And though circumstances might look very chaotic? He’s actually holding them together. I take great comfort in that fact as I have given too much energy scratching my head or wringing my hands with deep worry regarding current events in our country.

I need to remember the soft comforting sound of my dad’s whistle as he putzed in the garage. Working with his hands gave him an outlet to express his artistic side while relieving stress. Anytime I smell clean sawdust, I can see him cutting boards, sweeping the garage floor before closing the door and retiring for the evening. By the 60s, dad had lived and served through World War II and later the Korean Conflict. His government had sent him around the world facing some horrible times before peace came and he returned home safely. It’d be years before he shared some of his experiences that could have ended his life.

Yes, a pleasant soft whistle. Hot summer evenings. Open air flowing through the garage. An occasional visitor to interrupt his time, always welcomed with a warm smile and kind truthful answers to life’s serious questions. Because life can be hard, but with God in it all, everything is good and running according to plan

PERSPECTIVE, WHAT’S YOUR VIEW?

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Perspective. A mental view or outlook.

Recently my husband and I attended the funeral for one of my oldest cousins who passed away at the age of 88. Otto was born and raised in Millington and remained in that community his entire life, worked a variety of jobs and enjoyed many hobbies. His funeral was held in the church he attended all his life, St. Paul Lutheran and he was buried in the church’s cemetery nearby. Since we were in that area which is very close to Otter Lake, the last home where my grandparents lived, we took time to drive past the house where many childhood memories were created on Sunday afternoon visits. In contrast to living in the city, their country home offered trees to climb, berry bushes to pick ripened fruit, chickens to feed, kittens to cuddle, endless outdoor games playing with cousins. 

Driving past the house evoked all those memories, but they got tangled up in the disappointment of its present day condition. Gone are the fruit trees. The front yard is overgrown now with shrubs and tall grass. Old cars and a broken down travel trailer made for a sadly adorned front lawn. The lone garage door is crooked on its tracks. A house once teeming with energy and laughter, both wrapped in tremendous love and joy, is gone. And, a reality I had held on to for many years was also gone. As a child, I had always told people “how far back off the road the house sat”. Now, as an adult, I recognized that perception was not true. The house is much closer to the road than I originally thought. My ability to judge distance was skewed by childish measurements along with my grandparents admonishing us kids to never play near the road which stemmed from a tragic accident in the 40s which claimed the life of an older cousin.

So, my recent visit to their last home is giving me a good lesson on perspective.

Things are not always as they appear and life has many opportunities from which to learn and grow. Therefore, I made a quick investigation into scripture to see if God has anything to offer us regarding perspective. No surprise here, He does.

I found three very good takeaways. First, perceiving how we can view life. Proverbs 3: 5-6 says “ Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight”. Our commands given here are to “trust”, “lean not”, “submit”. The benefit of doing so is a “straight path”.

Secondly, a good perspective in life when we face trials and suffering comes from James 1: 2-4. “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. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything”. It would never be my intention to underplay anyone’s suffering; I’ve had my share of trials and hardships. Life is hard at times and some experiences–those that are most painful– are beyond our control. How we respond comes from the ability to stand firm or cave to pressures. Once again, I think back to my Grandma Jewell whose last months of life were under the care of a nursing home as her body battled bone cancer. Often, in deep pain, she could hear other residents crying under the weight of their own suffering, and from the depths of her compassion for others, instruct the nurses to care for others first over her own needs or ask “do they know Jesus….” so she could pray for comfort and salvation.

Lastly, perspective points to thoughts of eternity. Colossians 3 1-2 describes it this way: “Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.” Once I came to fully understand the concept that Paul writes about here, it allowed me to coin a phrase I’ve often used to weigh the heaviness of situations. “In the light of eternity, will ‘this’ matter?” That simple question has saved me from many worrisome nights or agonizing over things out of my control. 

So, even though I feel sad regarding the disarray of my grandparents’ home in Otter Lake, I’m thankful for 14 years of memories with every Sunday visit, meals at their table prepared by a grandmother who cooked and baked during the week anticipating several of her children’s families to be at her table and spill into the living room of their modest home. I’m grateful for her example when facing death, for she had learned at a very young age to adopt the wisdom of Proverbs commands. Grandma Jewell trusted, she leaned on God during everything in life, and she accepted the path God laid down for her. Her path had sorrows, pain, and a fair share of disappointments I’m sure,  but true to her nature, she spoke mostly of life’s joys and hope, her hope in Jesus…and always with a twinkle in her eyes.

I think she’d be very sad to see, now, how her modest home in Otter Lake has become compared to the vibrant years she and Gramp tended to. Yet, more importantly, she’d wonder about the people living inside its concrete walls  and ask, “do they know Jesus?” 

BLOOM WHERE YOU’RE PLANTED

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Before the current return with these much cooler temperatures we are experiencing–still calling our furnace to run, warming our home–enjoying sunny warm days prior to this week allowed for some outside yard work. Taking a few afternoons to work in short segments, I was able to rake debris, pull weeds, and locate perennial growth to ensure plants survived winter’s cold. In one area, after removing debris and weeds, I found a couple perennials that looked out of place and moved them for a more balanced “look”. I moved one plant from the west side of the house to the back, which gets morning sun.  I found hostas were crowding a columbine so that flowering plant was moved to an area next to the deck. As much as I would prefer more sun and higher temps, I’m watching these new transplants establish quickly to their new spots, perking up under recent gentle rains that fed their root systems. I’m still very much a novice gardner; I rely on learning from others who possess more knowledge than me or I search for advice via the internet. I learned years ago that moving a plant is beneficial. Though it will look tired and under stress, the presence of those actually causes the plant to fight for survival, driving its roots to action in order to survive. I can’t help but think I’ve experienced the same transition. I, too, was transplanted.

Our family moved from Saginaw to Fowlerville in 1989. A job opportunity came along for my husband that was much needed for us. We always thought we’d live our entire lives in Saginaw, raise our two children there, and retire. But God had other plans. Prior to our move, I was not familiar with Livingston County at all. I’d heard of Brighton. One of my aunts lived in Fenton for many years. When I told a childhood neighbor about our move he let me know he purchased a farm tractor in Fowlerville. These were the extent of what I knew about the county where we’ve now lived for 37 years.

Looking back over those thirty plus years I can definitely see God’s hand on my life when He picked me up and moved me 70 miles south of everything I had come to know. It was hard leaving behind our children’s two sets of grandparents and my husband’s elderly grandmother. We left a church family. I surrendered a 20 year banking career in order to begin my journey as a stay-at-home mom of our two young children. My husband was settled in his new job. We took occupancy of our home in January and by the end of February all our boxes were unpacked with everything put in place. On a cold wintry afternoon I found myself sitting alone in our living room, waiting for the school bus while our toddler son napped, suddenly wondering “what now?” Besides my husband’s employer, I knew absolutely no one. We’d been to a church in town for a few weeks with no connections made, other than a visit from the pastor to welcome us. For the first time in my life I felt truly alone and isolated. Like one of my transplants, I had a choice to make. Give up and into the dangers of isolation or take action. I chose the latter.

Within a few weeks following my afternoon alone in the living room I found a notice in the local paper about a Christian Women’s Club. Seeing that “free” childcare was an option–and much needed for a person like me with no friends to help–I jumped at the opportunity to swap comfy “mom” clothes to get “dressed” to be around other like minded women. This group became a lifeline for me and I formed several wonderful friendships that lasted a long time until the club disbanded.

At our church in town, the organist took a liking to me and invited me to a bible study that was composed of women from all ages and church backgrounds. We met every Wednesday to learn directly from scripture–no added curriculum–and prayed for one another’s requests. The wisdom and love I found in this group of women was nothing I had experienced in my Christian life. It was here that one of the older women told me her daughter lived around the corner from us who had a daughter the same age as ours, a possible playmate. Out of desperation I called to introduce myself and ask if a playdate could be arranged. The rest is a history of rich friendship between our families and although they’ve since relocated to South Carolina, we remain “tightly” knit together, sharing in life’s joys and sorrows.

After almost two years at the church in town we relocated to our current one, a decision that was difficult to make but necessary for the benefit of our spiritual growth. We quickly became more involved in ministry. We gained additional adult friends as well as our children’s ability to be around more kids their ages. As we became more established, I had the privilege to teach bible studies to women, be part of the worship team, attend retreats and send our kids to camp in the summer. All these activities took me away from the previous fear of being alone and isolated, to a thriving environment that nurtured not only me, but that of my family. Being a “newcomer” for a while in our new home also made me sensitive and aware when new families moved to our area, causing me to be intentional in saying “hello”  to “new faces” and several times I hosted small lunch dates in our home, inviting a new woman to meet some of my friends. I did this to help her begin her own process of being able to send her transplanted emotions and needs deeper and wider in order to thrive once again.

The Bible doesn’t have specific scriptures that define the common phrase “bloom where you’re planted” but there are those that reflect the image portrayed in “blooming”. Psalm 1: 3 says “They are like trees planted along the riverbank, bearing fruit each season. Their leaves never wither, and they prosper in all they do”.  Who is the ‘they’? It’s those of us believers in God who don’t follow the advice of sinners, or stand around with them, or join in with mockers (verse 1).

What are the benefits of avoiding these kinds of people? We won’t wither. We will prosper. We will bear fruit in every season (verse 3).

So, was my sitting alone that cold wintry day a challenge? Definitely. Moreso, it became the very catalyst I needed in order to pursue an abundant life I could have missed out had I not found ways to step out of loneliness and discover the riches my newly found small town living quickly awarded me. As I said, that was 37 years ago and every year I maintain that “more of the best is yet to come!”

SNOW DAYS, PAST & PRESENT

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Ah, snow days. Who doesn’t like a good occasional break from winter’s routines with weather that can interrupt and bring life to a fast standstill. And while such storms have their fair share of dangerous opportunities and mishaps, personally I find that the feelings that well up inside me when I hear of snow days for kids and teachers in our schools, still evoke a certain satisfaction inside me. And, because I don’t have a job or career that takes me outside the home anymore, I find I’m quite content to be home in comfort and away from any of a storm’s harsh realities. So it is this past week that I’ve paid attention, waiting to hear or read about cancellations, which takes me back to memories from childhood, when winter storms created snowdrifts up our back door, impassable streets and sidewalks.

When I was a child, we relied on our local television networks to broadcast weather. Much anticipated school closings were announced using a message tape that ran across the bottom of the TV screen. In our home, it was my dad’s routine to tune in “The Today Show” for the morning news. Invariably, if a pounding snowfall began in the night, I was up in the morning my usual time, still getting ready for school, but anxiously watching the television for the answer to my prayer –”please God! Let it be a snow day”. Often, I was disappointed when the ticker message didn’t include Saginaw City Public Schools. Alas, meaning I kept getting ready. In elementary years we walked two blocks to school. By the time junior high years arrived dad dropped me at my best friend’s home and we walked together, covering more than two blocks to our building. In high school, dad often drove me or dropped me at a corner where us kids could catch a city bus which was chartered for transporting students (there was no school bus operation in the late 60s and 70s) When my best friend could drive, she used her family car to get us to school, rain, shine and snow.

Those days are long gone now for me, yet I can still pull images from my memories of snow days that involved a lot of shoveling, snowforts, snowball fights, piles of snow on every corner and along driveways. There was one year that the pile of snow dad and my brothers created from clearing the drive that us kids were able to mold it into an igloo complete with digging it out for a couple of us to crawl inside. If memory serves me correctly we may have even sprayed it down with water to form a good ice covering, but then that would mean my memory says the hose to the faucet was available. Hmmm, maybe that part was a pipedream!

Then there was the winter blizzard of 1967. My oldest brother’s wedding was planned for January 28 but when Thursday rolled around, snow began falling and didn’t stop for hours. Streets, roads, sidewalks, driveways were buried under almost 23 inches of pure white flakes. Needless to say, with a lot of phone calls and tears, Dave’s wedding was cancelled. Those of us in the family who could dig out were able to gather on Sunday for a small ceremony, allowing them to get married. Dave’s father-in-law and other family members put together a meal which we enjoyed in the comfort of their farm home. Not to leave out celebrating with family and friends, my brother and his new wife hosted a reception a month later which meant Kay got to wear her wedding gown a second time, as did the bridal party. The blizzard of ‘67 was a topic of family get-togethers for years….tears  that had by now turning to smiles and laughter as we reminisced about overcoming mountains of snow!

That same weekend I can still see Tommy who lived across the street from us. Tommy was an amateur daredevil. Before our street was plowed out from the “city crew”, he was able to get into his bright blue 1967 Chevy Nova II, maneuver in reverse down our road, put it in drive and hit the pedal as though he was starting a drag race! Tommy’s goal was to “clear” a huge snow drift that had formed near our adjoining driveways. I still laugh as I “see” Tommy’s enthusiasm come to a screeching halt when the front end of his car disappeared under the drift, thankfully not causing any harm to him or his car.

Snow storms that turn into blizzards or freezing rain that covers roads and power lines are indeed big challenges as we hunker down through winter months. They are like a two edged sword….no school means a different kind of playtime for kids….hazardous roads need attention from hardworking plow crews…possibilies of power outages give concern to families and businesses. Yet, with each storm, each blizzard, each setback in comfort, somehow we manage, don’t we? Ingenuity –like Tommy’s–and resilience take over, thus removing doubts of seeing the sun come out, temps rising, all the conditions that begin melting those piles made which left us tired, sore, and cold to the core.

I certainly am not wishing for another blizzard like the one in ‘67 but I will say this, all these years later I still enjoy a good snow storm. I can brew a cup of tea in the afternoon, layer myself under a throw blanket, and watch  nature’s beauty from a window, seemingly endless pure white flakes falling and cascading in the air, landing on our pines, painting portraits of perfection. And, much like when my family stood at our living room window watching Tommy in his Chevy Nova, listening to him rev the engine, all of us giggling at his “foolishness”, wondering if he’d indeed win the battle against a looming snow drift,  I smile.  I breathe sighs of contentment and happiness. “These” current snow days are very different from my childhood but one thing remains. The peace, awe, and wonder from winter’s offerings always overshadow anything else going on that’s less than pure joy for my own “snow day” at home!

Be safe! Stay warm! 

WHEN LIFE IS A PUZZLE

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You know the feeling. You’ve opened the box that has a beautiful photo of what’s inside the box. An array of colors fill your eyes with colors galore and anticipation of creating your own masterpiece, using the contents from the box. Your time and effort will take patience, time, and concentration to the point where your eyes become tired and blurred. With numerous careful moves, honing in on each item from the box, you slowly solve the problem in front of you and just as you arrive at your “a-ha moment”, sadness and frustration take over your former serene lapses of time spent on your project. You’ve just entered the warp of frustration when one puzzle piece is either missing or your realization that one part  is not where it belongs, throwing off the entire completion of the numerous designs meant to come together in order and purpose to create the exact image that’s on the box.

So, it is with life sometimes. I think it’s safe to say many of us have experienced feelings of not “quite belonging”, “being in the wrong place at the wrong time”, staying in jobs or careers that do not satisfy a longing for accomplishment, making a difference in our world, or using our talents to their fullest potential.

In Rick Warren’s book “A Purpose Drive Life”, he wrote about how God has placed a purpose in every person. Quoting him from page 1 of chapter 1 is this: “It’s not about you. The purpose of your life is far greater than your own personal fulfillment, your peace of mind, or even your happiness”. He continues “if you want to know why you were placed on this  planet, you must begin with God. You were born BY His purpose and FOR His purpose”.

His book is a wonderful read for anyone and one I highly recommend. What Warren teaches is timeless wisdom in every chapter. He brings clarity and understanding to the age-old question “why am I here?” and helps the reader to identify purpose and not feel like the person struggling to force a puzzle piece in the wrong spot within its original design. Like a misplaced puzzle piece, how often do we–especially Christians–try to fit in where we don’t belong or linger in relationships that drain our energy rather than flourish, hang onto jobs that frustrate us, repeat the same behaviors over and over again hoping for change, with no results other than more despair and defeat.

Puzzle boxes have the picture of what’s inside the box. Like a preview of the finished puzzle, God gives us a glimpse of how our lives should look, too. In Romans 12: 2 Paul wrote “Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” (New Living Translation)

As a child, when I began putting a puzzle together I always set the box cover on end so I could refer to it for hints as I fingered pieces, assembling outer edges first to begin filling in the remaining sections. It’s a habit I would continue to use now if I chose to sit down with a puzzle. In like manner, for me to live each day with purpose and intention, I hold my Bible on my lap and read portions of scripture that help me to see and understand why I’m here, what work God has for me to do, how to treat others inside and outside of my family, how to conduct myself in all manner. Life will be a constant puzzle for me and you as we figure it out. Only God sees the beginning to the end for us. Isaiah said “Only I (God) can tell you the future before it even happens. Everything I plan will come to pass, for I do whatever I wish”. (New Living Translation)

Years ago I sat under a teaching that unpacked the concept of how God sees our lives. Our life is like a line that is eternal, stretching east to west, no beginning or end. In one look, God sees each one of us as newborn, childhood to teen laboriously entering adulthood and eventually the elderly person waiting and abiding for physical death. The timeline of life–as we know it–differs greatly compared to His perspective.  He has every piece of our life exactly in its place according to His plan and purpose. Thus,  when we stray from His perfect design, trying to force ourselves to fit in the wrong time or spot, He patiently waits for an awakening within us to return to wisdom and discernment, and He carefully places us back in the right place.

We can assemble with ease when we place the puzzle box cover on edge, its photo acting as hints guiding each piece in our fingers. Moreso, we are able to glean abundant knowledge when the pages of a Bible are open on our laps, giving direction and meaning to life. 

The goal of the puzzle box is to empty its contents and put the design together. The goal of God is for us to empty ourselves before Him and allow Him to fill us with beauty, wonder…and purpose. 

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In full disclosure, a dear friend of mine gave me a suggestion to write about life compared to a puzzle. She’s a person I fully rely upon for true friendship through the mountains and valleys of my life, as we share prayer requests with one another as well as the goodness of God.

ARE YOU AN ENCOURAGER?

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“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.”     (Leo Buscaglia)  

Leo was an American author and motivational speaker  and a professor known as “Dr. Love” based on his teachings about love, human connection and personal growth.  When I thought about what to write about this week, the concept of being kind and an encourager crossed my mind as I finished my last cup of coffee, gazing out my window as snowflakes debated whether to continue falling from gray clouds or retreat for a while. Kindness and encouragement have always been important to me–though admittedly I certainly have my share of awful behavior–yet, at the core of my being is a desire to love well, compliment and acknowledge the goodness of people I meet, to cheer on family members who, like me, are doing their best every day to achieve dreams, goals, live life through its ups and downs.

Looking back on the last few months, I’m able to see that I’ve got friends who are going through some very hard stuff such as grief from the loss of a child, another with a spouse experiencing unexpected physical ailments which required a few days in a hospital as well as those eking out a living to care for growing children, making ends meet with the resources available to them. 

As always–even though I like what Mr. Buscaglia said–I ask myself “what does the bible have to say about….fill in the blank. So, what does the bible have to say about being an encourager. Thankfully, a lot.

In 1 Thessalonians 5: 11: “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.”

Proverbs 16: 24  “Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.” 

“Let your speech be helpful, building others up as needed.”  (Ephesians 4:29).

Those are but three scriptures to describe how we should conduct ourselves regarding kindness, encouragement, and love. There’s plenty more, which makes me believe that God wanted us to know His heart through these words.

Does it take a lot of time or energy to be kind? Goodness, no. But it does take intentionality, even humility. Do you thank the person who bagged your large grocery order?  Do you say “thank you” to someone who held a door open for you? (which by the way is a great gesture to teach young children) If you’re a man, do you open the car door for your wife? (mine does) and he still insists on walking by the curbside of the sidewalk, a form of protection gentlemen assumed years ago when escorting a woman on dirty and dangerous streets. 

I could write a lot about encouragement and kindness. Lord, knows many of us need a review–even lessons–on what I assume to be common sense. Sadly, common sense is sometimes a rarity in our current culture no matter a person’s standing in society. Proof of the matter is found in countless social media posts and reels, media headlines, commentaries from the very people we rely upon for local, national, and world news.  Yet, much of the rhetoric we are bombarded with on a daily basis is out of our control, for in reality none of us can truly change the persona or actions of another person, but we CAN change our own attitudes, choice of language whether spoken or written, and above all–how we treat other people regardless of their role in workplaces, our churches, the places we shop or go for entertainment, and most crucially– in the center of our family homes.

I “encourage” you this week–and in weeks ahead–to find ways to compliment someone, to say “thank you” for what may appear as merely being a common small task, to offer a smile to a stranger sitting across from you in a waiting room. Look for a child who needs an extra bit of courage, catch a kid doing something kind and tell them “way to go!”

What will happen?  You’ll feel like you’re a better person from  a small moment of kindness that brought light into someone’s dark day. Like Leo said, you “may turn a life around”….you’ll become more and more like Jesus who is the author of perfect love, kindness, and encouragement in its purest form!

JESUS, THE PERFECT GIFT

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In a recent devotion I read this Advent season, the author asked us readers to close our eyes and think about a memorable gift we received at Christmas. We were asked to go as far back into our childhood for possible images. While I thought I might remember one, I actually thought of two gifts at different times in my life.

I admit the first gift I thought of was my Barbie Dream House. I would have been about 8 years old or so. It was the first one on the market, green, compared to pink versions that came along later.  The house opened up with walls, and inside she had a living room, bedroom, all the rooms in a home. There were small storage spaces for her accessories. A carry handle allowed me to lug it wherever,  even to a friend’s home where we combined our Barbie accessories for hours of play.

I also remember when I was 11 or 12, my brother Mark bought me a pair of ice skates. He had taken on a paper route that year so he was floating in money! I wore those skates well into my late teens as I was fortunate my feet had stopped growing. I brought them with me to Fowlerville when we moved here in 1989 but sadly, the skating opportunities here weren’t the same as my hometown Saginaw.

Another gift that had a tremendous impact was actually one my father gave to my mom. Her parents both died well before my birth. We had our share of snapshots of them that were stashed away, but dad was able to borrow their formal portraits from a cousin, had them professionally duplicated and gifted them to mom. This was in 1979. By then, I was 25, had my own apartment and to make Christmas special that year, I slept at my childhood home Christmas Eve so I could wake up in the morning as a “little kid” so-to-speak. That Christmas was probably one of my favorites until our children came along, making celebrations through their childhood years fun and memorable. Now we have four grandchildren which absolutely brings about more merriment, laughter, and memories.

Christmas 2025 is but a few days away as I write this. Our home is ready. Decorations have been in place for a couple of weeks. Gifts are wrapped–well, all but a mere few. Chex Mix has been made–and enjoyed–for a week. Almost time for another batch!

As I’ve been out on my errands, I have to admit it’s rather sad there’s not much evidence of Christmas in some of our public spaces. I fear that being politically correct has stripped away former years of beautiful decorations and Christmas music in the background. I’m thankful, though, for the beauty of our downtown streets with lights, garland, and yes–even a tree that has a slight lean. While there’s been those who wondered why the village couldn’t do better, I beg to differ. There’s beauty in imperfection and I think a tree that has a slight lean to its stature is a good reminder we are all imperfect people in one way or another! Afterall, it’s our great imperfections–our sinful lives–that caused God to have a plan of salvation in place to redeem mankind. We need not look too far to realize that our world is ever changing–some for good and much towards evil. 

Furthermore, I think our current world climate exemplifies words spoken from the prophet Isaiah in Chapter 5: “They say that what is right is wrong and what is wrong is right; that black is white and white is black; bitter is sweet and sweet is bitter.” (Living Translation)

It’s my humble opinion that much of our culture is upside down and most of what I call “common sense” has been exchanged for worry over offending someone. While common courtesy and kindness should never be excluded from how we treat others, there is also a responsibility to understand God, His purpose and plan for sending His Son to save all of us. This is why Christmas is important. Although December may not be the actual birth month for Christ’s arrival on earth, we celebrate because He CAME to dwell among us. And, sure, there weren’t Christmas lights, trees, Santas, reindeer–all the trimmings you and I adorn our homes–but there were angels, shepherds, and a star. The latter are now woven into some decor. Some homes even set up nativity scenes, another rarity in our culture as blow up snowmen, santas, elves–even dinosaurs–adorn front lawns.

This Christmas, close your eyes and think about the best gift you ever received. A favorite toy, a pair of skates, precious photographs–those hold special memories for me, yet they pale in comparison to me realizing I was a sinner in need of a saviour. THAT gift, given to me over 2,000 years ago, is mine now. I opened my heart to God’s gift in 1979 and it’s one that isn’t old, remains undamaged, not stored away, but hopefully shines brightly in my life as I live and breathe through each day I’m blessed to be share with family and friends.

Merry Christmas 2025!

YES, I’M WAITING FOR SNOW

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This past week I was faced with a gentle tease from nature–a forecast of snow–possibly accumulation of three inches. I got excited. I began fixing my eyes upward as I gazed at gray clouds covering overhead skies. As temperatures stayed steady, a few wet drops hit the windshield of the car as we drove home from getting haircuts. In the course of the next few hours I accepted disappointment that any hopes for any significant snow fall were not part of my Tuesday this past week. 

I live among family and friends who have created a great divide regarding snow. I have loved ones who grumble about snow because of its impact on driving conditions. I have grandchildren who are excited to don snowpants and boots to play outside in its freshness, hoping to build snowmen, maybe even help parents clear driveway and sidewalks. I have friends who can’t mention snow in the same sentence using the word happy. I get it. I understand both sides. Yet, in my determination to keep the peace, admittedly I’m taking up my annual position waiting for snow and reveling in how the beauty of it makes me feel inside and out! Like football fans who banter who’s the better team–MSU or U of M–I am unapologetic regarding my love for snow!

Sitting here in mid November feels like a tease. Halloween is behind us and our next expected holiday is Thanksgiving. Fall decor which includes pumpkins, ghosts, witches, corn stalks, etc. usher in a few Thanksgiving decorations–cornucopias, wreaths fashioned from fall leaves, figurines of pilgrims on tables still laden with pumpkins. And, to my surprise, some homes are already decorating with Christmas lights and other holiday decor. Personally, I have always thought putting up Christmas stuff before Thanksgiving didn’t give this day of gratitude proper observance, but then, I’m only in charge of my own choices, not my neighbors or anyone else for that matter. As a matter of fact, I’ve had conversations with a few people who took advantage of our unusually warm weather a few weeks ago to hang Christmas lights. Doing that chore under sunshine’s warmth certainly makes that job go easier and faster. You get no argument from me for making that decision!

Other teases I’m experiencing–telling me that Christmas is approaching–are increased ads on programs we’re watching. The number of fragrance ads are up. It’s fun to watch and listen to how each new fragrance is described. Because it’s impossible to actually “smell” what’s in the beautifully  fashioned bottle, we are teased with a very handsome man or gorgeous woman trying to convince us against backdrops of music and cleverly designed scenery the advantage for purchasing a new heavenly scent, guaranteed to enhance one’s romantic life!

Then, there’s some of our major stores that have begun incorporating Christmas shopping into their ads, too. There’s the familiar Target logo popping up now. And WalMart’s logo, too. Soon Macy’s will join the ongoing ad streams that interrupt favorite programming. Radio stations will most certainly begin playing Christmas music the day after Thanksgiving. Afterall, all the Black Friday shoppers need help getting in the mood, right? As if an avid shopper needs any outward stimulus other than a “good deal” to hit open stores at 5 am….a practice I have nor ever intend to participate in as I’m not drawn to that sort of chaos. Again, each to his own.

I like gentle teasing, knowing when temperatures drop and more gray filled skies fill the calendar versus sunshine and puffy clouds against blue hues take over November. I’m that person who loved winter as a child, now as an adult who still embraces the beauty of snow, knowing I can dress according to temperatures if wandering outside, or cozying up inside our home with a mug of hot tea or chocolate. There’s something warm and endearing about being under a comfortable lap cover, hands wrapped around a hot mug. For me, one of winter’s happy places is merely that–a cozy chair, warm blanket, a hot beverage–and in my case, I guarantee that mug will have a snowman on it. My favorite place in our home is by the large window in our living room where I can watch snow fall, when those days of merely teasing me actually turn into action and accumulation.

So, mugs are ready. Cupboards are stocked with a variety of beverages. My chair and blanket are always ready. The gentle teasing of the first snow can come anytime now, only make it the real deal please. I’m ready! I’m also ready to be sympathetic to those who are less excited for snow. I can’t change how you feel about the splendor and beauty of each snowflake, but I’ll gladly share a mug of hot chocolate or coffee with you in my warm home as we discuss pros and cons.  

As I wait for my first snow day, I’d like to bid you to enjoy a wonderful Thanksgiving, one that is surrounded by loved ones under a warm blanket of love, laughter, and above all–gratitude for every good gift given to us from a generous God who provides and protects!