The sound of silence…

If I can stay home and not have to be out in it then I absolutely love snow.

Snow fall is silent…once it falls it muffles the entire world around me. Even the birds cease their chatter when the snow is falling.

The only noise I’ve heard all day is the sound of the snow plow rumbling by and the sound of shovels sliding across driveways.

This snow fall is not very wet…making for easier shoveling. When we lived in Utah where they have the greatest snow on earth- seriously...our license plates said so- the snow was dry and called powder. The snow fall today here in Missouri is just that kind of snow. Powder is excellent for skiing and snowboarding making for soft landings in the event of mishaps.

As I watched the snow falling this morning I remembered the books I read as a girl written by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I remember going to the library and checking out those books one at a time until I read the whole set. I loved her descriptions of life in simpler times but today I am thankful for central heat instead of wood burning stoves or fireplaces that are cozy only as long as you are within the circle of their warmth. I shared my love for those books with my daughter and bought her the set when she was a little girl.

 Snow brings memories of snowmen and forts we built as children in North Dakota. When the wind chill was not too excessive that we could be outside to play where the snow was abundant for snow play. I remember my older brother and the neighborhood boys tunneling through the huge piles of snow standing beside driveways…off limits to girls of course. There were some serious snow ball fights waged from those fortresses. I knew better than to attempt to go up against my brother and his pitching arm, his fastballs were killer and he didn’t play around but aimed for the head of his victims. Being the target of a well shaped cold snowball to the face seemed to put a damper on my desire to play. Even though I didn’t like the “No girls allowed” slogan I respected it out of a sense of self preservation. Mom would make snow cream when we went in the house to warm up, almost as good as homemade ice cream in my memories.

Memories are of my own children playing in the snow bring a smile to my face as I visit the past through photographs. I would bundle them up in their winter attire, smear Vaseline on their cheeks and receive just as much joy from their excitement as I had as a child. I can’t count the number of snowmen they built over the years.

One of my favorite pictures is of our daughter- in kindergarten at the time- sitting in the yard where the snow was so deep you couldn’t see much of her except her head. That was the winter my husband was in Iceland and it seemed to snow every other day. The pile of snow at the end of our driveway rivaled the snow forts I remembered in North Dakota…and I shoveled every inch of it.

Today the drive way needed to be shoveled and the wind was picking up so the wind chill was dropping. I put on the long underwear and thick gloves and socks and went out to help my husband shovel. The best part about going out and shoveling was that we got to come in and drink hot chocolate together.

I wonder if those Little House books are hiding in the basement. If my daughter doesn’t have them I may have to go try to find them.  It's the perfect kind of evening to snuggle down on the couch under a throw and read a good book while drinking my hot chocolate.

New Year + new goals = new habits.

It's 2011! I enjoy opening a new calendar or planner and seeing the blank pages ready to fill with all the important information...birthdays and anniversaries, doctor’s appointments, vacation dates.

It's a fresh new year full of possibilities and hope. Today is Monday. It’s the first week of the New Year. What is it about the beginning of the New Year that causes me to want to aspire to something new? People want to stop smoking, some want to get out of debt; many want to stop the bathroom scale from moving up yet another pound.

I’m one of those who looks back at the past year and hopes that I can change in the New Year; not just on the outside that is reflected in the number on my bathroom scale or the size of my jeans but change on the inside. I want the deep down in my heart change that only my Lord can accomplish in me. To accomplish the change then I have to seek Him out, search my heart, and cooperate with Him in changing the things that need to change. Repenting of the sins, asking forgiveness, adjusting my attitude are all part of surrendering my will, seeking His will and finding joy in Him
 This year I choose to focus on joy. Not just the emotional, happy kind of joy but the joy of the Lord. Joy is defined- keen pleasure or delight, something or someone greatly valued or appreciated. I want to delight in the Lord, find pleasure in Him, value time spent in prayer with Him and serving Him, and appreciate His working in me and in my life. Too often I focus on the negative, what I don’t like about the circumstances I find myself facing. But if I truly believe that God is in control, that everything is His plan for my life then I want to find the joy in it whatever “it” is.
 So 2011 is going to be a journey to open my heart and mind to joy. Joy in the day to day living and serving my family, joy in the big things like seeing my children and spending special family times together, and joy in the small things like sun shining through the prism hanging in my kitchen window splashing rainbows across the walls and ceiling, or the laughter shared as I watch my husband try to hoola-hoop with the Wii.

Joy in the midst of challenges and facing the hard things as well a joy in the pleasures and fun things in life. The more I come to know and trust my Lord, the fuller my joy becomes. Is it possible to form the habit of finding joy in every situation and circumstance?  I am told all things are possible with God.

This year I will find the joy, enjoy the moment, rejoice in Him, and not allow anything or anyone to steal my joy. There are 362 more days to practice this new adventure in joy with my Lord. I'm excited to see 2011 unfold.

Continuing to count my 1000 gifts…
141. Blank calendars.
142. Seeing my daughters face on Christmas day for the first time in 4 years.
143. Safe travels.
144. Italian restaurants open on Christmas day.
145. Giving good gifts to my family.
146. Watching my husband play on the new Wii…rolling on the floor laughing.
147. The sound of the shovel scraping the snow off the drive.
148. Heated car seats on freezing cold nights.
149. The joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart.
150. Free ebooks


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Baby Sister

I was six years old and in the first grade…I had finally mastered tying my shoes 2 months earlier. We lived in a 2 story home in base housing in Minot, North Dakota and it was the beginning of December so it was cold…stinkin’ cold. The Monkees were singing “Daydream Believer” on the radio, “Family Affair” was my favorite show on TV and I had the Mrs. Beasley doll to prove it.

We were expecting a new little brother or sister…this was back in the days before ultrasounds gave you a sneak peek into the womb to clue you in on if you should buy blue or pink receiving blankets. Lucky for this baby there was an older brother and two sisters with hand-me-downs for either need.

I don’t remember much about the day she arrived. Mom went into labor while it was still November and had the baby in December. Apparently our baby sister had a difficult time making her debut. At one point during her delivery our mom remembers my dad was asked who to save, the mother or the baby. I can’t imagine being forced to make that choice but my dad, choking with emotion, gruffly replied, “You better save the mother we have 3 children at home”. But- God…He had better plans for this little baby and both mother and baby made it through safely.

Before mom came home with our brand new baby sister I remember sitting in the back seat of the car with my sister Pam and dad asking us if we wanted to name the baby Patricia or Paula. I don’t know if Phil was part of that conversation, if so he was in the front seat because I can’t remember him sitting with us. I was adamant we needed to name her Paula. There was a girl in my class named Patricia and she wasn’t very nice to me. Funny how you remember things like that from your childhood.

From the start we all adored Paula. I think it’s safe to say she is our favorite sibling. Of the four of us she was the only one to keep her blond hair, she also got the curls…the rest of us have dark, straight hair losing our battle with silver as we get older…her silver just blends in with the blonde.

Before she was a year old she was a world traveler, traveling to Japan. (It should be no surprise to anyone that she loves being on the go- it started early in her life!) From there we went to Okinawa, and back to Minot when she was four.

One of the scariest memories I have involving my sister Paula was when she was about 5 and I was 11. Our laundry was down in the basement. She and I had taken our baths and we had to carry our dirty clothes and wet towels and wash rags down stairs so we went down together and placed them in the correct laundry piles. As we turned to go back up the stairs I said “Race ya!” and we went racing up the stairs side by side. Before we reached the top 2 steps she slipped and fell between the railing down to the concrete floor below, landing between the water heater and the furnace. I can still see her little body sprawled out, her eyes closed and her blonde curly hair fanned out on the floor.

Screaming I ran into the living room and told my mom Paula had fallen down the stairs. Dad was gone…the military life seems to require that the active duty member be gone when major things are happening back home. Mom called the neighbor across the street and he ran over through the snow, barefoot (remember - winter in Minot North Dakota) and carried Paula to his car, taking off with Paula and mom to the hospital. I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse in my life, I thought I had killed my baby sister. Again, God’s hand was on her and she suffered no serious injury. How she managed to fall between the water heater and furnace without hitting either one can only be explained by her guardian angel…he was on duty that night.

After I got married and left home Paula and I stayed close. I think in many ways she is the glue that holds our family together. She has always been the peacemaker, always been the voice of reason when tempers flared. She has a huge heart; she would rather cut her arm off than hurt someone intentionally. She is fierce in her loyalty and convictions. She loves her family and her friends so don’t be messing with them!

For many years she and I would talk over the phone long distance about the day when we would live close to each other…wouldn’t it be cool to live down the street from each other!? We don’t live down the street from each other…but when the house next door to hers was for sale earlier this year I tried to convince Carl it was a sign from heaven that we were to move to Kansas City. We live 3 hours apart now and I absolutely love going to visit her. We laugh, we cry, we shop, we work on projects, we fuss, we share our hearts, we sing (really loud) and we eat.

If you know her then you love her…you know what we knew 43 years ago, that she is a precious blessing sent to our family straight from God.

Happy Birthday Paula! You are so loved and I am so glad to be your sister.

Penny

Be careful what you pray for...

I got in line with my grocery cart and knew I had waited too late in the day to do my shopping.  People were getting off work and buying groceries on their way home.  I resigned myself to standing in line and began people watching.  Wal-Mart is a great place to watch people…everyone goes to Wal-Mart.  I had decided to make an effort to connect with strangers and prayed for God to help me strike up a conversation with the people I come into contact with.  If I was going to be a blessing to others than I had to open my mouth and speak. 

An older woman was paying, the next lady in line was Asian with 2 small children. Her little boy was sitting in the shopping cart, the little girl was trying to add things to the cart as her mom unloaded items. I glanced at the cashier, she was watching the young boy in the cart as he and his older sister interacted, the cashier looked at the boy and I thought she tried to smile but it didn’t really happen.

Directly in front of me was another lady, she started unloading her cart when it was her turn and I decided to speak to her, just to be friendly. I said something about the fact that there should be an easier way to shop, you know- just have it delivered to your house so you don’t have to stand in line and waste your time after work. She smiled and nodded while focusing on her cart and items she was placing on the counter.  She was pleasant but not really open to conversation.

I started watching the cashier and she seemed so tired, or sad so I prayed about what to say to her as I got up there with my items. Cheryl was her name according to her name tag. So I smiled at her and I told her she looked tired. I asked her if she was almost done with her day or just getting started. She said she would be there until eleven. She said she was tired. She wasn’t sleeping at night, her daughter-in-law had left her son and taken her granddaughter with her so she hadn’t been able to see the little girl. I could see the sadness in her eyes as she told me this; I thought how much pain her heart must be in and it brought tears to my eyes.

I asked her if she had a church that she attended. And she said yes and shared the name of the church. I said that at times like this it’s good to have a church that you can have pray with you. She didn’t say anything else, so I told her as I left I hoped she was able to get to sleep that night.

I thought all the way out to the car, how could I have helped her, what could I have said to lift her spirits? I was at a loss. I wondered what good does it do to be sensitive to others pain if when you know what that pain is you are helpless to do anything about it. What do you say?  How do you comfort a stranger in the few moments it takes to make a purchase? Once again I felt like a failure.  “Really Lord?  You want to use me to bless others, to shine the Light of Your love through me?  Because honestly…I’m not all that good at it!”
 
When I prayed that God would break my heart with the things that break His heart I didn’t expect it to happen at the register at Walmart.  I wasn’t prepared for Him to answer in the way He did. God is determined to let me know that He works how He wants to work, in the way He chooses to do so, any time He wants to.  As much as I try to keep God in a nice and tidy box where I think I can understand Him and how He works—He refuses to stay there!   I’m really glad He is bigger than that.

Later that evening I thought of Cheryl and prayed for her and her son, her daughter-in-law and her granddaughter. I prayed that Cheryl’s heart would be comforted that she would be able to sleep, the daughter-in-laws heart would be softened so the family could see the granddaughter and that the granddaughters heart would be protected from the fall out of parents that are having marriage difficulties.
 
I prayed again for God to use me in spite of my emotions, in spite of my fear of making a mess of it.  He assured me that He did…there’s a woman who was reminded that there is power in prayer and that she could and should share her burden with her church family. He assured me that He does…her name, her family, her cares were lifted to the throne of grace in prayer…my prayer.  He assured me that He will…as long as I am willing He will use me to accomplish His purpose for my life, He will show me hurting people if I will keep my eyes open and my heart tender.

Since that first encounter at the check out at Wal-Mart nearly three years ago there have been brief conversations with strangers as they have made purchases where I'm the lady behind the register.  I work at a Hallmark store.  There was the woman who needed a card and gift for her grandaughter.  The grandaughter had just been to the doctor where they could not find her baby's heart beat, the baby she was scheduled to deliver in a few days.  There was the elderly couple who came in together.  He was a retired Air Force officer and served in Korea.  We chatted for a good fifteen minutes about the military community and how much we missed it.  A few months later I saw the elderly woman come into the store alone and asked how her husband was doing.  He had lost his battle with cancer.  I hadn't known he was dealing with cancer.  We shared the memory of our conversation that day months before and she smiled as I commented on what a nice and gentle man he was.

I have become more sensitive to the leading of Holy Spirit.  It's amazing how He clues me in to a heart that's hurting.  I'm going about my business, working, doing what I do and seeing people come and go.  Out of the blue God will give me a 'nudge'...I'll take a second look at someone.  I'll wonder if I'm making assumptions or if it's really God through Holy Spirit getting my attention.  I wonder how many times I've been too busy and missed the promptings and the opportunity to be a blessing.  Those times I connect with someone- I know God is answering my prayers to make a difference in a life.  I still get teary when I hear someones heart is breaking but that's just the way I'm wired so I push through my emotions and I silently pray for words of comfort and encouragement. The words come.  I never know what their impact will be but I leave that for God to sort out.  I have to pay attention, look past the surface- past age, gender or social standing.  I have to ask Him fill me with a love for others, a love that comes straight from Him so I can see past everything that gets in the way of really seeing the person.  

I remember the people, I remember their pain, I wonder if there has been healing. I continue to ask Him..."break my heart with what breaks Your heart".     

Walking in Love,

It’s Monday…thank you God…

131. for my health…one of my husband’s extended family members starts chemo this week.

132. that I have a good relationship with my grown children…I know some grandparents who have never met their 2 year old grandchild because of words spoken in the past.

133. I have a seasonal job.

134. I came home from work and my husband was folding the laundry for me.

135. homemade chili-dogs with lots of cheese for supper.

136. foot rubs from my husband after long days on my feet.

137. Goop…gets the gravy stains out of a white shirt.

138. driving home with the window down and the radio playing.

139. watching a family gather around one of their own…a quiet testimony that they are family and are there for one another.

140. a Saturday that started out gray and rainy but turned into a beautiful sunny day filled with the colors of fall.

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Another Gratitude Monday

111. the feel of my daughters embrace

112. seeing Cardinal's baseball in person

113. the smile on my husbands face while watching the baseball game

114. the gathering of family...if only for an afternoon

115. sharing a lap blanket with my daughter-in-law on one side and

 my husband on the other

116. trees losing their leaves and exposing a birds nest

117. peanuts and cracker jacks

118. the first frost of fall

119. finding a new herbal tea flavor to enjoy

120. the shade of blue that the sky reserves for fall

121. extra blankets on the bed

122. snuggles to share the warmth

123. new soup recipes to try

124. switching out the summer clothing for the winter clothing

125. washing away the chills with a long soak in the tub

126. the scent "Autumn Wreath" by Yankee candle drifting through the living room

127. spending quiet evenings working on cross stitch projects

128. the taste of a hersheys kiss melting in my mouth

129. seeing a drop in numbers on my bathroom scale

130. the "Cuppy-Cake" ringtone signaling a text from my Babygirl

Join the Gratitude community over at "Holy Experience" with Ann - begin counting your own graces!

Walking in love,

Broken Pieces

Several years ago I was preparing to leave the house and in my rush my purse connected with an old tea cup and saucer displayed on a ledge.  I cringed as I watched the tea cup and saucer decorated with purple violets crash to the floor, the shattering of china made me gasp.  The damage was done.  Bits and pieces of white shards lay scattered between the larger pieces of cup and saucer.   What had been a set of four cups and saucers’ belonging to my great grandmother was now reduced to three.

How could I have been so clumsy?  I kneeled down to pick up the two pieces that had been a saucer and tried to fit them together like pieces of a puzzle.  I picked up the largest piece of the cup that included the curved handle and felt sadness well up within me that one of the few tangible connections I had of my great grandmother was lost.

My husband came upon the scene as I was sweeping the fragments into the dust pan.  He recognized the remains of the cherished cup and saucer and offered words of comfort at the loss of the irreplaceable. 
 

Later that night I thought about the cups and saucers and my great grandmother.  I was reminded that nothing in this world lasts.  Some day the other three cups and saucers will be passed on to family members and will eventually be broken or passed on to others who don’t know the family history they represent. 

As I laid there contemplating the shattered and broken I talked to God.  My thoughts turned to events in my life that had left me broken and emotionally shattered.  Childhood abuse that had lain buried beneath the surface for years until the light of God’s love made it possible to uncover it and deal with the pain and damage.  In my hands the broken shattered pieces had been impossible to fit back together but in the healing hands of a loving God the pieces of a broken heart and life had been repaired.

He took His time and tenderly guided me through the sharp, cutting memories.  Some of the broken pieces had left wounds that had become infected with unforgiveness and bitterness.  He washed them with His Word and poured out his healing love upon them.  Sometimes the washing in the Word stung…I had to let go of the bitterness and unforgiveness before deep healing could begin; other times the washing in the Word brought peace and joy even in the midst of tears.  He was gentle and compassionate, at the same time He was persistent, even relentless in His desire to see the healing begin.

One of the amazing things about God is that He wants me to come to Him just as I am…bruised, battered, broken, and shattered…but He refused to leave me in that condition.  My brokenness was not a surprise or a challenge for Him.  He delights in taking those very things that had left me wounded and scarred and showing me how He can use them for His glory.  When I look to Him to do His healing work, trusting that He will not allow my pain to be wasted, then my brokenness can become my testimony of His love for me.

Walking in love,