Tag Archives: life

WALKS & MUD PIES

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These slightly warmer days in the month of February which serve as ushering in windy March are what I refer to as “inbetweener days”. February has a reputation of giving us a range of temperatures…all the way from frigid to ones that tip  moderate warmth helped along by more sunshine as compared to wintry cloudy days threatening heavy snowfall. As snow begins to melt, creating puddles in drives and dirt roads, snowbanks become dotted with large splotches of mud. The sound of squish-squish is now a familiar sound under my feet as I walk down our driveway to the mailbox or along the road on the shoulder when avoiding traffic.

This past week’s warmer temps allowed me to get outside a bit more compared to January’s extreme cold. Feeling the sun on my face has been wonderful. Going for walks without bundling under several layers has been liberating! Now that I can avoid icy conditions, though, I find it necessary to watch my step on the mud. This gooey mess concocted from water and dirt can be dangerous to a misplaced footstep, resulting in slip sliding away when least expected.

Such was my experience this week. Thankfully, I did not slide to the point of a fall, however, I found myself being very careful testing the “muddies” so-to-speak whenever I moved off the pavement of our road. On one of my walks, I intentionally did not listen to a podcast, music, or an audible book. Instead, I wanted the luxury of being “mindful” of my surroundings. What would I see? Hear? Smell? My senses did not fail me.

As I strolled along I enjoyed bright sunshine on my face and cool air filling my lungs. In tall trees I heard birds singing. The breezes smelled fresh and clean, even though my eyes caught winter’s end with melting snow, dead underbrush exposed above once deep snowbanks, muddy blotches on remaining piles of snow. Though not pristine by any means, I comprehended that there is a “season for everything”, complete with the rough edges of waning winter giving way to  promises of lush springtime growth coming in a mere few weeks. 

All that I took in with my eyes reminded me of our relationship with God. By nature we are all sinners, covered with sin’s dirt, marred by its effects. Yet, when He comes into our lives, those things are removed by His salvation and grace, leaving us white as snow.  “Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson,  they shall be like wool. (Isaiah 1:18)

And if it isn’t enough to have sins washed with such purity, Jesus is also a healer. In the book of John we can read about a time that Jesus healed a blind man by mixing His saliva with dirt, creating a mud pie in His hands which he applied to the man’s eyes. I’m not sure why He chose this method to deliver a healing, but it shows us how He can use ordinary elements of the earth to grant a miracle. Afterall, if God created Adam from the dust of the earth, why can’t Jesus use a mixture of dirt to restore sight? When common meets divine I’m in awe.

Yes, my ordinary walks outside are opportunities for me to observe the world around me. I can look up and see planes streaming across blue skies. I am able to notice roadside areas covered with mud, stones, and dead plants waiting to wake up to spring’s alarm. I can marvel at numerous deer trails winding through wooded areas, their tracks molded in mud next to pavement, leaving behind evidence of their presence in our neighborhood.

My mind, on another walk outside, has had the opportunity to meet with divine, to enjoy present day temps while anticipating the promise of spring in a few weeks. When spring arrives, my eyes will have new things to behold. I’ll be able to smell different aromas in the air. And, most likely I won’t be walking in mud. Unless it rains! Maybe, just maybe, I should have fun making “mud pies”…..

LIVING ROOM SOCIAL MEDIA

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Ah, the blessings and curses that come with social media.

When Facebook surged above all other social media platforms, I joined a myriad of friends and family making use of this communication tool. I quickly connected with friends who live in different geographic locations…families spread out across Michigan and beyond to the west coast … .close friends…highschool classmates…individuals and groups that feed into my personal goals for understanding of scripture and ministry where I serve. The past years belonging to Facebook, and now Instagram along with X, have been heartwarming, intriguing, plus an occasional wringing of hands in frustration.

Reflecting on my experiences with social media, I could not help but remember Sunday afternoon visits with my grandparents. Following a delicious dinner, it never failed that I ran back and forth between the living room from playing outside, my grandpa seated among dad and his brothers, along with brothers-in-law were, discussing current events. My memories are totally foggy and I certainly don’t have recall for those conversations other than to remember they were quite lively, but never critical or mean spirited. Sources of topics were what they heard on the evening news, newspapers, radio, and magazines.

On one such visit, our family was the first to arrive on a Sunday and when we walked in the door my grandpa jumped up excitedly, waving an issue of Time magazine in my dad’s face, declaring “Jack, do you know what them Roo-sians are up to?” “Read this, Jack!” Before dad could react or respond, Gramp told dad word for word what was contained in the article.

Going back to my uncles. Within their career circle were two engineers, a car salesman, a laborer for General Motors, a self employed building contractor,  a minister and a colonel in the United States Air Force. My dad was employed in the building inspection department for the City of Saginaw in the 60s, the years of many family dinners and living room conversations. Grandpa’s working years spanned farming, logging, and in his later years, some small machine work. My Jewell “guys” certainly represented a variety of work skills which included a strong foundation of integrity. 

IF they had strong disagreements when discussing America’s woes in the 60s, it never was evident to me. What I heard and observed was a group of siblings having lively conversations. When I really leaned in to what they were talking about, I was happy to sit and listen when many “yarns” or stories from childhood dominated their lively banter,  many of which were repeated year after year and are now beloved memories from my childhood.

So, social media. As I’ve been a part of my “friendship circle” the posts have often gone from family photos or highlighted vacation moments to discussions of current matters in America. Admittedly, I have joined in all of these topics but having done so has not always been beneficial.

My observations boil down to things for me. One, there’s a lot of courage behind a keyboard evidenced by some very mean spirited posts. Secondly, I’m convinced social media is never going to serve as a beneficial or uplifting platform to discuss “hot topics”. Certainly, I enjoy reading a variety of opinions, while struggling with motives behind “jabs” or “disrespectful” words. Once again, of my own admission, I often got sucked into a “ping pong match of wits” with those who think differently than myself. Not anymore.

I made a conscious decision to keep my social media focused on family photos, special moments we’ve enjoyed as a family, connecting with family and friends, sharing encouragement from “my” source of all that is good–scripture.

My Jewell guys never solved any of America’s problems in the 60s. At most, they accomplished hearing the viewpoints of each other. No one ever left angry or “unfriended” one another. 

Yes, social media is now an outlet that illustrates our human nature ranging in behaviors from elation to anger. Missing is the ability to “hear” a tone of voice behind typed words, or the “heart” behind comments. Missing is the beauty of face-to-face conversations which allow differing angles to meet over closely held passions and stances without resulting in being cut off.

I can’t imagine any of my dad’s sibling relationships being severed due to thinking as an individual. In my grandparents’ small living room, in that small close knit circle of the Jewell men, there was love, acceptance, and always yielding to differing opinions.

I think those of us who use social media could learn a lesson or two from a circle of loving and goofy brothers. Who, when finished bantering away the afternoon, went out to the kitchen for another slab of pie or outside for a rousing game of horseshoes, brothers against brothers in fair play and healthy competition.

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. (Ephesians 4: 29) 

GENTLENESS OUTWEIGHS ANGER

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Last week I wrote about the necessity of having a strong foundation when building a home and paralleled that process to creating a healthy life for ourselves. As a woman who grew up with a dad who had built our family home, who knew how to properly construct a foundation, then erect walls and roof trusses, I gained proper perspective on the importance of having a blueprint, the right tools, and the knowledge how to follow every step in the building process. By not running ahead of any one of the building’s necessary processes or taking shortcuts, arriving at its final completion date is being able to say a “job well done” and “worth the blood, sweat and tears”.

As mentioned, my dad built our family home which was completed in 1954. With his skills the only work he outsourced was the electrical and plumbing as well as the fireplace in the living room. When I was old enough to understand, I remember dad telling me how the mason who came to lay the fireplace bricks had clearly enjoyed a few drinks too many….yet, with a watchful eye my dad watched to make sure the mason’s level actually read correctly and that each row was put in place with required precision. I often wonder why dad didn’t ask the contracted mason to return when he had full capacity of his mental processes; perhaps my dad’s gentle spirit and reluctance to confront uncomfortable situations prevailed over what others may see as pure logic to resolve a tense situation.

In the 70’s my folks purchased land in the Rose City area and built a small cabin. This structure had a crawl space and when the local building inspector came to observe dad’s progress, he instructed that a rat wall had to be part of the crawl space walls. I’ll never forget my dad’s laughter every time he repeated details about the inspector’s visit. Dad knew the Uniform Building Codes inside and out. He used them every day in his career and even taught them at college level to architects and builders. He knew that his small rural cabin didn’t need a rat wall because rats are typically a city problem, not one in small communities. But, rather than argue, he complied with the request as deep down he knew it didn’t affect the final outcome of our cabin’s foundation and ultimate completion.

In the 80’s our family home needed to be reroofed. By that time my brothers and husband were able to help dad. Although dad was in his 60s, he amazed us with an agility to go up and down a ladder to supervise and lay down new shingles. A couple of family friends came to help; they had years of experience with all tools, but also had the same accumulation when it came to enjoying a cold beer. During one of the work days, on a particularly hot afternoon working on the roof, one of the fellas was showing obvious signs of having over indulged to quench his thirst. Shingles need to line up correctly in order for the entire project to be perfect. Dad observed a slight decline taking place with a row of shingles. In order to save the project, but not use a direct approach, he chose to “shut down the day’s work due to the sun’s heat”. Once again, his gentle nature took precedence rather than confronting our friends “one too many beers”.

One might ask, why didn’t your dad just go ahead and be bold to correct a mason, an inspector, and a family friend in the errors of their ways? My answer is gentleness. I think my dad showed me that sometimes much is accomplished when gentleness is given rather than a harsh response. In fact, in Romans 15:1 it says “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger”.  O, how many arguments or tense situations could be avoided if this admonishment was actually put in place in our conversations and actions with family and friends!

My challenge to myself and you is to consider using the gift of gentleness to diffuse an uncomfortable situation or request a change in behavior from a loved one. That we can remember a soft approach and words of kindness laced with encouragement go a long way to creating healthy relationships. We can endeavor to achieve what is written in 1 Thessalonians 5: 11 “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing”. 

One last favorite memory of my dad’s gentle spirit. While serving in the U.S. Navy, whenever his ship was in port with short leave granted, dad told me each sailor sometimes received two cans of beer and a pack of cigarettes. Dad always gave one beer away as well as the cigarettes. On one occasion, a fellow shipmate asked “Jewell, how come you don’t smoke?”

“Because my mother asked me not to….” I can hear Grandma Jewell’s sweet voice making this simple request to her son as he became a young man and went off to serve in World War II, leaving behind farm life and facing many different new challenges. I like to believe that her steadfastness to remain kind, gentle, always parenting with huge doses of love and hugs, made my dad into the man he became so that in turn I could learn those same traits.

WHAT PATH ARE YOU WALKING?

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Sitting here at my laptop, it’s hard to believe that another year has turned every page of the 2024 calendar. Reflecting on where I’ve gone, what I’ve accomplished, is bringing back many good memories along with numerous questions such as “have I left anything undone that was a personal goal?”

In late spring we enjoyed a “road trip” to Nebraska for a family wedding which allowed us to drive north from Lincoln to see Mt. Rushmore and the Crazy Horse Memorial. On our return drive home, a last minute decision to lodge our car on the Badger allowed us to enjoy its cruise across Lake Michigan, taking in the beauty of that great lake, sunning our faces on the upper deck,  creating more memories, something to cross off our bucket list. October was another road trip, this time to Pennsylvania, for another wedding.  We were able to fill an entire day by visiting Gettysburg National Memorial, finishing our time there with a great burger in one of the small restaurants downtown. 

Summer allowed us to enjoy watching our oldest granddaughter play softball and in the fall our oldest grandson joined a soccer program. Seeing them enjoy, build on basic skills, and participate in a team sport filled some of our weeks traveling to watch, which we gladly did with no hesitation.

Rainy days were good ones to draw me into a good book, some for ministry and others for pure relaxation and enjoyment. Each book taught me new things to understand or escape from otherwise routine days and weeks not taken up with responsibilities.

Yes, 2024, has been good to me. And in a church wide devotional about 30 of us are doing together, the writings from December 24 were very insightful and encouraging. As I anticipate 2025–what will it hold–I like what the devotion’s author wrote: “We don’t need to wait to be called; Jesus has commanded all believers to go!”

So, what is my calling? What is yours? Often, I think Christians are waiting for a loud voice from the heavens announcing a grand “job description” on our life–become a pastor! Go, be a missionary to a foreign land! Give all your possessions to the poor and live a life of modesty! Run for public office! While these are all admirable vocations, in simplicity God calls each believer to walk the path of Jesus and do His work in order to bring increase to His Kingdom. When I answered the reflection question from the devotion I realized that my path usually winds through my church family, Celebrate Recovery, Kroger, Meijer, restaurants, sports fields, my social media platforms, and the privilege to write each week and be included in the Fowlerville News. My path may not be a very long one–with brief adventures like our out of state trips–but it remains one of importance with divine opportunities. 

Our Celebrate Recovery folks donated over $500 in December which we used to bless two families with Christmas gifts. These families were given to us by Angel Tree Ministries, caring for a loved one currently incarcerated. Last week I went with two other leaders to deliver gifts to our Lansing family. Spending time getting acquainted with them was priceless. Listening to their stories of love and support for their little nephew whose dad is currently serving his sentence, praying with them before we left, put a bright spot on my personal “path” that I know was an assignment from Jesus, a beautiful memory I will cherish and glean from the humble lessons I learned from that afternoon visit.

I don’t know what 2025 holds for me. I’m confident there will be more sporting events to attend…I have more ministry books to read…ministry at church and in my community will continue. Hopefully there will be a trip or two to enjoy another adventure!

I don’t know what 2025 holds for you either. As I look around our community I see wonderful families. I also acknowledge we have those living through hardships and tough circumstances. But I see organizations and churches–full of wonderful men and women–willing and waiting to meet needs. I see amazing Christ followers answering individual “calls” every day to change a life or fill a need. I am witnessing “Whoever claims to live in Him must live as Jesus did”. (1 John 2) Those words describe my variety of adventures in 2024 and hopefully continue in 2025–for me AND for you!

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PRAYERS & TEARS

Recently my husband and I watched an excellent movie that I stumbled upon while browsing our Prime account. I clicked on “Nicky’s Story” after reading the synopsis and in its beginning I confess I almost turned it off as I thought it was too slow moving and possibly a “sleeper”, the kind of plot that didn’t immediately catch my attention. I was wrong.

This documentary portrays the heroic and passionate events from the life of Nicholas Winton who was responsible for saving 669 Jewish children in the years of Hitler’s reign during World War II. He was able to fill eight different trains to deliver these children safely from Prague to the United Kingdom where he arranged for foster families to care for them.

At the movie’s end, photos of the actual survivors are featured, showing their name, age and the profession each had pursued in life. I was amazed at the number of professionals such as surgeons, scientists, technicians, teachers, etc. All lived to be quite aged and perhaps one of the greatest facts displayed on the screen is that from those 669 children, 5,700 descendants were produced.

In my own family–that of my father’s side–we have our own numbers to boast. My dad was one of 11 children; a baby boy ahead of my dad was born prematurely and survived for 8 days, so my grandmother actually bore 12 children. From my dad and his siblings, I counted 45 cousins. Several of those are deceased now. I’d love to know how many children each of my cousins had but at this point in my life, I honestly have no idea. The addition of  second, third and cousins beyond each generational label boggles my mind. Yet, in that uncertainty lies a fact I am confident about–I believe the prayers for my family that were uttered by my Grandma Jewell–those for the salvation of her children–also included her grandchildren as each one came along, trickling down through the next generation and into the present day.

The Bible says that our prayers are stored in heaven. In Revelation 5: 8 it states “…and the 24 elders fell down before the Lamb. Each one had a harp and they were holding golden bowls of incense, which are the prayers of God’s people”.

My grandmother’s prayer life was most often in the early hours of the morning. I’ve been told she was awake most nights beginning at 2 am to be in prayer. This was after a long day caring for children, preparing meals, helping with farm chores–all without many modern appliances. It was her habit to pray for her children beginning with the eldest to the youngest. As the boys went off to war, her prayers intensified. As each married, there was a new family loved one tucked inside her heart. And with each new “precious life” added into her growing family, her prayer list grew, filling a golden bowl in heaven.

As beautiful to know that our prayers are forever kept by God, there is also great comfort that He also stores our tears. In Psalm 56: 8 it says “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book”.

My grandmother surely shed her fair share of tears. There was the tragic death of an eldest grandson which happened while in her and grandpa’s care. His dad, my Uncle Bud, had remarried and while on his honeymoon his three children from a first marriage were with my grandparents. Buddy, age 4, ran into the road and was struck by a car. Because of that incident, over the years that we visited my grandparents, we were strictly told not to play by the road.

In 1953, the very day that I was born in November, my Uncle Rusty lost his oldest daughter to polio. She was merely 8 years old. I have no doubt that grandma joined her son and my aunt crying for Sheryl’s precious life, taken by a sickness that later became curable with a vaccine, only too late for her.

Knowing that God stores prayers and tears in heaven gives me a great sense of joy and hope. Nothing you or I talk to Him about or  as we sit quietly with tears streaming down our cheeks goes unnoticed by Him. I can think of no greater comfort than those two promises which are recorded for us in scripture. I can only imagine the number of golden bowls and vials God is using to capture every word, every tear from every person from generations past to now.

When I close my eyes, I can see my grandmother in her rocking chair, Bible open on her lap which is covered by her apron, soft hands folded across open pages of a favorite scripture. And while I envision worn pages from years of use, I can also see stains where tears of joy or heartache marked each heartfelt prayer to her Heavenly Father.  And I  see a golden bowl paired on a table with a vessel of tears. Both are labeled “Sadie Florence Morris Jewell”.