Before the throne

Leave a reply
The place I always feel closest to God. Pensacola Beach

The place I always feel closest to God. Pensacola Beach

Yesterday I shared about the words that the missionary spoke that were a balm to cover up an old wound.  Well, that same day, one of Reed’s friends led worship for the day.  Yes, a sweet high school senior listened to God’s prompting to lead a congregation in praise and song.  During the offering that day, he sang a song that had me crying in my pew.  It seemed as if the words he sang were an affirmation to what I believe to be God’s will for my life.

As I sat there in the pew, I allowed the words to sink deep within. All of my own struggles (too many possessions, worrying about the wrong things, prideful in accomplishments, my failings and where I have failed others, and the fear of not leaving a Godly legacy for my kids) were right there – packaged in one song.  By the time we got to the fifth stanza, I was a puddle of tears. I literally would give up everything I own to know that my children’s hope (and future) lays securely at the foot of Heaven’s throne.

Songs do that to me.  I have shared that before, but sometimes I will hear a song and I will have to pull over on the side of the road and cry.  I have always loved to sing, grew up singing (church & school), and hope that my family will honor my wishes when I pass away of having an hour-long time just singing praises to God.

I do have a small confession to make.  The song resonated with my soul; so, despite all my normal sensibilities, I whipped out my smartphone during service and did a Google search.  My efforts discovered the song, “Everything I own” by Marshall native, Jason Gray.  (I have included the lyrics and a Youtube link below.) After services, I did thank our sweet boy for his role in my heart-stirring and confirmed that I had found the right song.

I am going to play this song often this year as a reminder (when I get off the path – which I know I will) that this is where I want to be.  I want to be in daily contact with the giver of wings so that all else will be according to His plans in my life. Who knows, this one might just be added to the playlist one day for my family to sing one day. Because by that time, I will standing before the very throne that this song reminds that I need to be before every day!

I would love to hear about what songs (of any genre) really speak to you and why! Hoping to be daily before God and praying I see you there too!

Everything that I own (Jason Gray)

What would I give to be pure in heart,
to be pure in flesh and bone
what would I give to be pure in heart
I’d give everything that I own

I’d rid my whole house of its demons of lust
and open the window to trust,
and out of that window all fear will have flown
I’d give everything that I own

What would I give for the words of God
to come tumbling from the throne
tell me what would I give for the words of God
I’d give everything that I own

I’d open my head and they’d roll right in,
When I opened my mouth they would roll out again,
and up root the weeds of the deeds that I have sown
I’d give everything that I own

What would I give
for my children’s strength on the day they stand alone
I mean, what would I give for their strength to stand firm
I’d give everything that I own

Cause I’ve wasted my life accomplishing things,
ignoring the giver of wings
so Lord teach them to fly to the foot of your throne
I’d give everything that I own

All I’ve accomplished, the titles I hold,
my passions, positions, possessions and gold.
To God they must look like a thimble of foam
and it’s everything that I own, dirty rags are all that I own.

So I stand before God with my stubble and hay
He just laughs , but says there is still a way
because Father forgive, are the words Jesus moaned
and He gave everything that he owned

So what would I give to be pure in heart
for the known, to be made unknown
what would I give to be born again

Pick your sword

Leave a reply
My real Bible and our family sword placed on my grandmother's quilt.

My real Bible and our family sword placed on my grandmother’s quilt.

So a new year and a new adventure begin for all of us.  I have had a few weeks to reflect and to ponder on what direction I feel God pulling my heart.  One thing is for sure, I am glad that we are embarking on a new year.  This past year, 2012, wasn’t my best year.  I spent 9 months very ill (albeit not letting on to most people), 7 months planning, executing, and wrapping up Reed’s Run, and one month in deep grief over my grandmother and the Newtown tragedy.

Desperately, I needed a new start and a new direction. After much prayer, I know that God is calling me to spend more time with my writing (particularly on finishing a couple books I have started) and with kids – simply basking in the joy of being their momma (which He knows has been my lifelong heart’s desire). Secondarily, God is asking me to answer his call to the various churches that have invited me to come and speak.  So there you go – my spiritual goals for the New Year.

In order to achieve those goals, I need to be firmly rooted in God’s word.  I achieved my goal of reading through the Bible (cover to cover) last year.  It took me several years to do it, but I ruminated over what God was telling me and then digested it.  That is where I want to start my writing for this year.  I want to implore all who read this blog to really consider carving out a time to connect with God through his Word.  Don’t let your Bible be something that you dust!

Where do you begin?  Wherever your heart leads you is the answer I would give you.  There are wonderful daily devotionals (in print and online) as well as pacing schedules if you want to tackle reading the whole Bible in a period of time.

But wait! Before you begin, I want to share a little story with you.  A few years back I was at a get-away and I was busy working on some baby quilts.  A new friend that I had met earlier in the week stopped into the room I was in.  We visited for quite some time about our lives, our families and our faiths.  Eventually, she asked me, “What Bible does your church use?” I was a little bit taken aback.  I asked a clarifying question to make sure she was asking about what version/revision/translation that we used.  I answered that our pew Bibles were NIV, but that each person uses the version that spoke most to his/her heart.  Her response felt like someone sucker punched me. “Oh, I guess you aren’t really Christians because you don’t use the original King James.” DO WHAT????  I wanted to argue about how King James wasn’t around at the time the Bible was written in the original Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, but I decided that it was wasted breath.

Her comment reminds me so much of a Ghandi quote, “I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so much unlike your Christ.”  Wow! With the fighting and bickering among Christian denominations, it is no wonder that we who follow Christ are getting a bad reputation.  (On a side note, I found a really great blog on that topic http://www.mongoosemom.com/?p=27 so I won’t go into that, but please read it if you get a chance.)  My concern here is to talk about the only sure way we know what God is trying to tell us.

Two weeks ago in church, we had a guest missionary who spoke during the sermon time on his work with Wycliffe Bible Translators.  He spoke something that soothed over that wound in my heart and affirmed what I already believed.  He talked about our church’s initiative to read through the Bible in a year (which I tried and failed miserably at doing previously). He asked us to pick our swords.  “What did he just say?” My ears perked up.  He clarified, “Pick your sword – whatever translation of the Bible pierces your heart the deepest.”  Now that has stuck with me.  My first go round with the reading the Bible through was with a study companion that was over my head.  I didn’t understand it, and thus it was doomed from the start.  Later, I found a study Bible by one of my favorite authors and then it clicked.  God’s word literally pierced my heart and my soul and I found that I couldn’t put it down.

I know the direction God is calling me for the time being. Trust me, I have failed miserably and will fail again.  But I know that God is for me; so, I get up and keep going.  If you are hearing your name being whispered, follow the source to his written word.  If you don’t know your sword yet, pick out a couple to try.  When you find the right one (or ones – I have several translations that I like), then my prayer for you is that you find the greatest love story ever written to you!

Last thought for today: God was smiling on me when I researched today.  For those that take the time to read the blog by Mongoose Mom, look at the date that she originally posted that blog.  Just know that God prompted her heart on the day of my darkest hour, fully knowing that someday I would stumble across a message that resonated with me.  Simply put, GOD is AMAZING!

Merry Christmas 2012

Leave a reply

Mom & Dad:  I, Kandy, keep busy with the kids’ schedules, teaching at the college, coaching Math League, volunteering, and sneaking in some crafting, writing, and speaking at various churches. I have recuperated from some health issues, and I am feeling the best I have in many years. Daniel enjoys hunting and fishing any chance he gets.  He had success again in Montana, and has enjoyed his trips to SD to hunt with Sawyer. He continues to work at Schwan’s and volunteers with Hunter Safety.

Erin smileErin is now 13 years old and in the 8th grade.  She is active in 4H, Jazz band, Knowledge Bowl, Math Counts, NJHS, Student Council, FCA, FFA, youth group and of course, basketball.  She continues to play at school, any 3-on-3 tournament she can find, and on her AAU team.  About half of our year, Erin is playing on one team or another. All of her extra effort has paid off as she earned a spot on the C/B squads this year. She has grown to 5’9” and she wears size 11/12 shoes.  She volunteers as a leader in the AWANA club and she regularly babysits. Her future dream jobs are WNBA player, physical therapist, or teacher.

Reed’s Run: 2012 was our 4th and final run.  We reed's run logohad gorgeous weather, an incredible turnout, and precious memories.  We came away exceeding our fundraising goal for the 4 years.  There were so many special memories from that day: my best friend from high school, Matthew, and his wife, Kimberly,  flying up to run and share in remembering their son, Alex (Big A); that same friend organizing Reed earning his Eagle Scout status; the incredible live performance by Jesus Painter Ministries; having Sawyer’s god-brother attend his football game the night before as Sawyer’s biggest fan; family that flew and drove to be there; and most importantly, the amazing outpouring of love that we received from family, friends, and community.  www.reedsrun.com

Really great garden:  planted, tended, harvested and shared between our family and our dear friends the Bell’s.  Despite drought conditions, we had an overabundance of garden produce.  We also had our fair share of weeds.  The garden has produced much frozen, canned, and stored produce for our family for the winter, but it also provided a place for laughter, therapy, and a daily reminder of God’s abundant blessings.

Yearly traditions continue to be the things that keep our family ties strong.  A few years back we conducted a family survey on what traditions meant the most to us at Christmas.  The strong favorites were the annual sleepover under the Christmas tree, the candlelight service on Christmas Eve, and the pageant held at church.  Once again this year, our children are participating.  Sawyer has a Bible passage to read. Erin Elisabeth is playing Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist.  Cloie is signing to Away in the Manger.  It is always one of my favorite days in December.

Studio B photography

Studio B photography

Cloie is soon to be 8 years old and is in the 2nd grade.  She continues to be a true delight in our family, as she is all energy and spunk.  She loves school, especially reading and math.  Cloie began piano and voice lessons this year – where she sparkles.  Our little “Sally Gal” wowed us all at Reed’s Run where she sang the national anthem flawlessly, bringing tears to the eyes of many. Her dream is to be able to sing at a Twins game. Clo continues in swimming, AWANA, and is itching for basketball to start.  Still a Cloverbud in 4H, she talked us into letting her show goats and pigeons at the next fair.  Her dream jobs are to be a professional singer or teacher.

Heavenly home – we mourn the loss of loved ones very dear to us this year.  In January, our beloved kitty, Ocho lost his short battle with leukemia.  We lost Daniel’s Aunt Imelda in April. We always enjoyed her Christmas cards. In June, we were devastated to lose the son of very dear friends.  Through AJ’s death, we have learned that God has a purpose in all our experiences as we have been able to walk alongside our friends. A few months after our visit this summer, my aunt Margaret went home to Jesus.  My aunt has always held a special place in my heart as she often said that I was the daughter she never had.  I was moved to tears when she and my uncle made a surprise day trip to come and visit me this June.  The one person I always believed was larger than life went to her heavenly home in November.  My Nannie, Katie Campbell, was my world as a little girl and will always hold a special place in my heart and memories.  Now more than ever I am THANKFUL for our long trip to Florida this summer. My children celebrated their remembrance of the most magical time spent with Nannie at the Fiesta Five Flags parade by throwing Mardi Gras beads at our outdoor remembering tree.  This morning Uncle Ted Schuler went home to Jesus.  Our hearts are filled with sadness for a great uncle who loved everyone.

Remodeling was the theme of the year in our house as we spent a large majority of the year redoing the basement.  At first, it was meant for aesthetics and organization, but it turned out to be a needed project as we discovered support beams a fraction of inch away from crumbling.  We love our “new” space and we enjoy that it truly feels like our designs.

In need of a Savior – we are so thankful that God in his wisdom knew exactly the best present that we would need for Christmas.  The first Bible verse Reed learned was an abbreviated version of Luke 2:11. “For unto us is born this day a Savior who is Christ the Lord.” Listening to the tape over and over to help him prepare for his first pageant, I am reminded of it each and every year.  As our children get older and their wish items become smaller and more expensive, we have had some great conversations about what really matters at this time of year.

sawyer & cloSawyer will turn 16 in February and is in the 10th grade.  At 6’1” and size 12 shoes, my gentle giant towers over me. This year marked milestones for him as he had his first football coaching jobs: Chad Greenway Day-to-Reach camp, Lakeview mini-camp, and Special Olympics Junior team. He loved every minute of it – coaching his SO team to 2nd place.  Sawyer is involved in Student Council, Math League, golf team, Knowledge Bowl, pep band, FFA, youth group and football.  He volunteers as a leader for AWANA, is VP for the 4H club, and is one of the huddle leaders for FCA.  This year, Sawyer has his first job, working as after-school care for two little girls, and he is working toward his lifeguard certification.  We are already starting to receive notices from colleges – YIKES.  His current career plan is to become a pastor.

Trips – we have had some incredible trips this past year.  We spent 3 weeks visiting my family down South.  Daniel drove down with us, then flew home and the kids and I drove cross-country to get home.  We loved every minute we spent seeing everyone and enjoying some of the finest beaches in the world.  We savored every bite of Southern food.  In August, we had a great daytrip to the Minnesota zoo to see the Dinosaurs exhibit and back-to-school shop.  The guys enjoyed their hunting trips.  Our visits to ND for our nephew’s wedding and for Thanksgiving were just what we needed.  The last family trip was into Canada to see “How to Train Your Dragon – the LIVE spectacular”.  Our whole family enjoyed Winnipeg, good food, and an AMAZING show.

Many special moments – this year we have started to shake the fog of deep grief.  While we will always miss Reed, our eyes have been awakened to the many, many, MANY blessings God has bestowed upon us.  I feel that we have been given spiritual vision to see our blessings daily.  We have been able to reconnect with old friends, share an unexpected laugh with many, savor good food and even better conversations, and simply live and love.  While this is in no means an exhaustive list, these are a few of my favorites.

  • Sailing and dining with my parents in the Gulf of Mexico.
  • Having three generations glued to the tv at Mama’s house for 3 days to watch the Hatfields & McCoys mini-series.
  • Throwing beads in the Fiesta Five Flags parade in Pensacola with Nannie.
  • After 23 years of waiting, reconnecting with my best friend, Matthew.
  • Laughing hysterically at the largest sweet potato possibly ever grown in the state of Minnesota.
  • Successfully seeing Reed’s Run to completion.
  • Watching our nephew cry when he saw his bride.
  • Finding our special cardinal in the most unexpected places.
  • Having our breath taken away by the everyday, ordinary moments of life with our friends back here at home.

A new addition:  our hearts were too sad to replace our little, Ocho, with another kitty.  So, on Easter Saturday, we welcomed home a new little Mal-shi puppy whom we named Hiccup.  (All our dogs are named after book characters.)  We have learned that training little dogs is much more challenging than big dogs.  So there are many days that we would put him on the corner for a quarter, yet Hiccup has helped to keep Huck much younger.  Before the puppy’s arrival, Huck (age 10) still volunteered at the nursing home, but mostly slept.  Now, he wrestles with the little guy and that is quite a sight.  A ninety-seven pound golden retriever playing with a ten pound tyke is definitely entertaining.

Snow – we had snow for only one day all of last winter.  We made the most of it, and made sure to make a snowman and girl in the backyard.  Now to most people, they would say, “Count Your Blessings” and for the most part we did.  However, Sawyer didn’t get to use his Christmas snowshoes and there was no sledding or snowball fights.  But the biggest chuckle – the Christmas present we gave our entire family last year was a dog-sledding adventure.  The outfitter gave us a rain (or should I say snow)check. Since Cloie has her two front teeth, we are secretly wishing for snow this Christmas.

More importantly, we are wishing that you find the Light of Christmas in your heart always.  Merry Christmas!

Photo taken by Studio B photography

Photo taken by Studio B photography

 

 May your days be filled with blessings
Like the sun that lights the sky,
And may you always have the courage
To spread your wings and fly.

The long road home . . . Part 4

Leave a reply
My Nannie

My Nannie

A week ago on Wednesday, we had the Celebration of Life for my Nannie.  I was one of three family members who gave the eulogy with my mom and my uncle (her brother) being the other two.  We each shared from our own recollections as Nannie’s children and grandchildren.  Last week, my Aunt Nernie (my mom’s sister) wrote the sweetest thing on my Facebook wall.  She affirmed that I was the light of Nannie’s life as the oldest grandchild.  (The truth is all of the grandchildren were the light of Nannie’s life.  I just happened to be the first.)

Since I tend to embellish and paraphrase when I talk, my notes are not going to be exactly what I said that day, but I wanted to share with the whole world how absolutely wonderful my Nannie was to me.

Remembering Nannie –

I am Kandy Noles Stevens, and the oldest grandchild of Nannie (whom many of you know as Miss Katie).  I travelled here from Minnesota not to say good-bye, because as Christians there are no good-byes.  So I am here to say I will “See you soon” and to share with you the grandkids perspective of who our Nannie was to us.

My earliest memory in life involves my Nannie and Granddaddy.  My family lived across the street from them at the time, and I cannot remember if my brother was being born or if he was having surgery.  But nevertheless, I was at home being watched by my great-aunt.  At some point during the day, a travelling circus or petting zoo came through our part of town, and somehow a billy goat got loose, running around the neighborhood.  My great aunt was doing laundry in the carport at which point she got butted in the bumper.  Then the goat started ramming its reflection in our picture window.  I was panicked, and I did the only thing that made sense to my three year old little self.  I decided to make a break for it.  I took off across the street and I screamed, “Granddaddy, Granddaddy save me!”  My Nannie and Granddaddy came running.  Their arms around me told me I was safe and secure.

With Nannie & Granddaddy

With Nannie & Granddaddy

My mom just shared that they came from humble beginnings, and that has not necessarily been my story.  My parents moved us up from poverty to upper middle class.  I was afforded things that my Nannie nor her kids could have ever dreamed possible.  I have advanced degrees, and I have had lots of opportunities in life.  With that said, there are some things that I will never do as well as my Nannie.

  • I will never make mac-n-cheese as good as her.  I don’t really understand it, because she only made Kraft out of a box.  Mine just never tastes as good.
  • I will NEVER make chicken-n-dumplings as good as her.  And she gave me lessons 3 times.  Without her there to help, they just turn out like soup or mush.
  • I will never love and tend a plant as well as she did.  I love to garden, but whatever plant she touched just seemed to flourish.
  • I will never know how she could love a child with such abandon.  I love my children (and those I teach), but in Nannie’s presence you simply knew you were loved.

Recently I learned to crochet while I was healing from some surgeries.  My mom said she was proud of that because at least that skill would not die out with Nannie’s passing, but I will never be as good at it as she was.

My Nannie did not invent this phrase but she certainly embodied it. YOLO = You Only Live Once!  There were many things that she enjoyed that are also memories that I have of her.

She ENJOYED her stuff.  If you have ever been to my Nannie’s house, you know that she had a lot of material things.  Even though she loved to purchase items for herself, no one enjoyed gift giving more than my Nannie.  I remember one Christmas when they came to our house.  As she and Granddaddy brought in present and after present, I started to get disheartened because none of the packages had my name on them.  Finally in came a gigantic box, wrapped and emblazoned with my name.  After present opening, my Nannie shared her story.  Inside that box was the entire store display of Kenner’s Darci dolls. The cover girl fashion dolls were all the rage in 1978, and by the time, my Nannie got to the T. G. & Y. store, they were all sold out.  That did not deter my Nannie. No sir! She asked to speak to the manager. Then she worked her charm to convince him that they weren’t going to use the store display; so he might as well sell it to her and make her granddaughter’s Christmas!  That huge package was indeed the store display with all 3 dolls inside. Darci (blonde) 004

She ENJOYED her superstitions.  (At the service, there were many giggles at that line.)  I can remember one time when my family took the Amtrak to New Orleans for Easter.  We met up there with Nannie and Granddaddy and my Uncle Buddy’s family.  We spent the day down in the French Quarter and then it was time for grandparents and kids to go back to the hotel for swimming while the parents enjoyed the nightlife.  I do not like crowds and it was crowded there.  So at some point on the long walk back, I broke from the crowd and took the road less travelled.  All of sudden out of nowhere, my Nannie grabbed the neck of my shirt and yanked me around the pole to walk the same way as everyone else.  Unbeknownst to me, my non-conformity would bring us a plague of bad luck.  In case you are wondering, I am still receiving chiropractic treatments for that neck yanking.

She ENJOYED a good laugh – like the time:

  • My cousins Misty and Kristy called to say they were going to make it for Christmas after all.  They were younger than school age.  A few minutes later they “drove” into the driveway in their Little Tykes jeep.
  • The year the golden egg from the Easter egg hunt was hidden in my Uncle Mike’s hat (which was on his head at the time).
  • The time my cousin Joey found that great turtle which was great right up until the moment he discovered it was a snapper.
  • But for us grandchildren, the best memory was the Christmas Eve fireworks tradition.  My Nannie lit one, and pshewwwwwwwww off it flew.  It landed on the neighbors’ roof and promptly caught it on fire.  The laughter part was watching our Nannie run down the street, and we didn’t even know she could run.

She ENJOYED a good party like:

  • Any gathering with her Shriner or Daughters of the Nile friends at the Hadji Temple.
  • Mardi Gras or Fiesta Five Flags (My kids will always remembering throwing beads last summer).
  • A simple family gathering for dinner at her house.
  • An evening at the fish camp.
  • Or an impromptu gathering in one of the aisles at the Dollar Tree.

My Nannie ENJOYED life, and I want to leave you with three things that she believed.

She always BELIEVED in the ordinary magic of life.

If you are familiar with the Chronicles of Narnia, please raise your hand.  While we kids didn’t have a wardrobe, we did have Nannie’s dining room.  Every family gathering when the adults were at the big table, all of us kids were transported to a world far away.  While the adults were at Nannie’s house, the kids had every dinner in Paris, France.  Our Nannie’s love allowed and encouraged us to use our imaginations.

She always BELIEVED in family.

Nannie was there when my daughter Erin was born.  Erin’s delivery had some difficulties, and she couldn’t stand waiting at my house.  So she convinced my parents to take her to the hospital while they stayed with the boys.  As the day wore on and as the medical staff discovered there were problems, Nannie kept vigil on the bench outside the room.  At one point, I overheard a conversation with a nurse asking if she was the grandma.  In her calm Southern drawl, she exclaimed, “I AM the Nannie!” It was all she had to say. It explained it all.

I know that if you don’t know this last belief, my Nannie would be upset with me if I didn’t tell you that you NEED to know it.

She always BELIEVED in the love of the story of Christmas.

No one could do Christmas like my Nannie, but at the heart of that was the love that came in the present of a little bitty baby to the world.  Nannie KNEW that baby in the manger came to save us all so that one day we will be in heaven with him.

I recently asked Nannie what the first thing she was going to do when she got to Heaven.  She looked me in the eye and said, “The first thing I am going to do is hug Jesus!  Then I am going to find your Granddaddy and Reed, and we are all going fishing.”

I am certain that is exactly what happened.  The world will have a lot of Grandmas, but there will never be another Nannie.

The long road home . . . Part 3

5 Replies
photo courtesy www.ohkarolle.com

photo courtesy www.ohkarolle.com

So far on my travel log, I have waxed poetically about rail transportation.  From my perspective, there is only one drawback: train stations in larger cities. This isn’t a judgment, but just an “it is what it is” assessment.  Many of the larger train stations have a disproportionate number of panhandlers and others that have not seen many of life’s blessings.  So when I disembarked in New Orleans, I knew what lay ahead of me in the station.

Normally, I would not be fazed by this, but this time I had packed 2 large suitcases (filled with Christmas presents) along with a purse and knitting bag.  I was loaded down.  Upon arrival in the station I discovered that the rental car office was not adjacent (as advertised) but rather two blocks away in the hub of the down and out.  I chose not to pick up my checked bag and started out on foot (wearing snow boots and winter coat).  I probably looked like I normally lived right outside the station carrying everything I own on my person or in one of my bags.

I left in 20 something degrees and arrived in upper 70’s.  I was the definition of a hot mess while I tried to navigate my way to the rental car mecca. To complicate matters there was major road construction outside the station, and based on the way I looked, not a single car helped by allowing me to cross the street.  While I was waiting and sweating, a man came up really, really close to me. I knew what was about to happen next, except for at this point, I was just plain ticked. So I turned around and gave him the “Don’t mess with this Momma” stare coupled with a “Don’t even think about it” verbalization because I “just might come unglued right here” on Loyola Street.  Amazingly it worked and I arrived at my destination possibly 5 pounds lighter in my own personal sweat sauna.

All was well . . . until. Until the rental car agent asked, “Do you have another driver’s license?” This was my first inkling that more trouble than almost getting mugged was brewing. Seriously, lady, what the heck? No I don’t have another driver’s license. What was she thinking?  Well, it turns out that my license expired on my birthday 13 days prior.  There was nothing that could be done except call my parents for help.

The first thing out of my dad’s mouth was, “How did this happen?”  Dad, that isn’t important right now, and what I really needed to hear was, “Okay, let me grab my Daddy super cape, and I am on my way. It will take me 3 hours, but I am on my way.” Thankfully after explaining my near mugging, the rental car folks drove me to the train station.

Back at Amtrak, I found a seat and made a few phone calls, but here I was stuck in a not- so-lovely place.  While I was making my calls, I was approached once again.  “No I didn’t have any extra money for food. Currently, I am in my own mess and I cannot fix yours.  God bless you anyways.” At this point, I noticed two sweet little ladies who also seemed to be waiting with their barrage of suitcases.

I hated to do it, but I went over and politely asked if I could sit next to them – they radiated peace and comfort. I asked if they could watch my bags so I could retrieve my checked bag.  Once back in my seat, I was approached for a third time.  “Listen sir, I am about one blink away from having a meltdown, and I am sorry I cannot help you. I can barely help myself.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but the whole story came burbling out to my now “train station” friends.  The two sweet ladies asked where I was trying to get to.  I explained Pensacola.  They asked a few questions about what highways would you take to get there.  The next thing I knew they were calling their husbands and trying to figure out how to fix a situation – me!

Eventually, I learned that they had travelled on a riverboat from New Orleans to Memphis and then rode the train back.  They were all friends from a Sunday School class, and they then were driving home to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.  Miss Jane and Miss Sandy just made me feel better. At this point, my stress level had gone down simply because they were there.  Finally, they got through to their husbands with a message of “Please come into the train station when you arrive, because we have a proposition for you.”

Rescuing me was the proposition.  As their husbands approached, I leaned over and said, “Is this the point where I make puppy dog eyes for them to feel sorry for me?”  We had some good chuckles. Once the Misters Marvin (both husbands share the same name) heard this story, their Southern damsel-in-distress meter kicked in and they said, “Grab your bags! We will at least meet your parents in the middle.”

One call to my dad provided another dad-ism. “Are you satisfied with this arrangement?” was followed swiftly by “Are you sure you can trust these people?”  I assured him this was a gift from God – these were Sunday School people! Somehow he must have trusted my judgment at that point.

I later learned that one Marvin is retired Air Force and the other Marvin is retired Highway Patrol.  And in all of their words, “There was no way we were leaving you there.”

And so here we were on our way to somewhere in Mississippi to drop off the newly adopted daughter with her biological parent.  Along the way, we shared our stories and, more importantly, our faith – the whole time I was praising Jesus in the storm for sending me the best guardian angels this side of heaven.

The best part was what my dad saw when we met at our drop-off location.  Here was his wayward daughter (who NEVER got a notice to renew her license) flanked by one couple on each side.  Earlier, I suggested they just leave me at a Cracker Barrel, where I could rock on the porch, but they wouldn’t dream of it.

Instead they waited to deliver me straight into my Daddy’s hands.  It was the best picture image I will ever have.  It reminded me of all the people of faith that have helped mold and shape me (including the one that was the reason for my travels) who have helped usher me -one day – into my Heavenly Daddy’s hands. For that I am incredibly blessed!

The long road home . . . Part 2

4 Replies
Photo courtesy of www.bmwmoa.org

Photo courtesy of www.bmwmoa.org

There were several things that I learned or realized about myself on my trip home.  One of the most sobering was, as the oldest grandchild (now without grandparents), I am one generation away from being the matriarch of a family.  That was a humbling and overwhelming epiphany.  Another affirmation was I will always be a Southern girl at heart, and there are just some things that only true Southerners appreciate.  A prime example is grits, which I savored every bite each morning on the train.  A third was something I have grappled with for a long time – not taking time for myself and something that my Nannie worried about.

As confessed yesterday, my aversion to flying played a factor in my decision to take the train to New Orleans and then drive from there.  But the reality of the having 31 hours of uninterrupted time was beyond appealing to this harried mom.  From the moment, we brought Reed into this world, I have put my own personal desires a distance fourth or fifth place (after Daniel’s, my kids, work, church/volunteering – you get the idea).  When it comes to making sacrifices, my heart’s desires are the first I throw out the window.

Another realization is that while I don’t remember my age half the time, my body certainly does which is why I inquired into the cost of a sleeper car accommodation for the longer train trip.  When I discovered how affordable it was, I took the plunge.  After I had paid the fare, the ticket agent explained all my meals were included, and my wait time would be in the First Class lounge (safe and seccure) where there are drinks, snacks, free internet, and cable for those waiting. Wow! I was just expecting a bed where I could stretch out.

Upon boarding my sleeper car, I learned that were other desirable perks.  Someone turns down my bed (complete with chocolates and water bottles), priority seating at meal times, fabulous meals rivaling some great restaurants, someone makes my bed in the morning, towel service with most toiletries available for the shower room, and my favorite: free beverage service with all the ice I could ever want is available the entire trip. I learned that I could sleep in and no one would care or ask me to make breakfast or find their lost shoes or backpack.  I could just sit in solitude and be peaceful without interruption or having to do the laundry.  I was amazed at how good it felt to be pampered. Manny, my porter, was sweet and compassionate when I explained the nature of my trip.  To be honest, he doted on me. I felt like the Belle of the South on the train.

After my first meal of amazing Cajun pasta, I retreated to my sleeper to ponder how I was feeling.  More importantly, why when I was travelling a grief journey did these small touches make me feel so special?  It didn’t take me long to come to the realization that it had been a very LONG time that I had done something just for me.  The only thing I regularly do for me is to visit my hair stylist.

My head swirled with thoughts of how did I get like this mixed in with memories of my Nannie who was all about pampering.  My Nannie took carpe diem to an altogether new level while I somehow live a life of self-imposed martyrdom.  What happened to me?  I don’t think I was always this worried, stressed or self-sacrificing.  I was not oblivious to the fact that I was impressed with pampering on the Amtrak and that I was not at the Ritz-Carlton.

This self-denial is a long and entrenched behavior, but on that southbound train, I made a promise to myself to start doing some things just for me.  Somehow I know that my Nannie would be saying, “Hallelujah! It’s about time!”  And who knows? I just might like it!

If you see glimpses of yourself in my blog today, please, please, please take time for you and write a response telling me what you chose to do for yourself.  I love to hear from my readers, and it would be an encouragement to me to keep my own promise.

 

The long road home . . . Part 1

Leave a reply

22LVtrain1For the upcoming weeks, I am planning two series of writings about things near and dear to my heart.  This week will be about the adventure I took going back to Florida to help with the services for my Nannie (my maternal grandmother).  As a Christian, I did not go to say good-bye; I went to remember the amazing times and to say “I’ll see you soon”.  This travel blog will be about the things I learned about myself and the revelations that God had in store for me as well as remembrances of my Nannie.

Many know that I love a good bargain, and some know that I have a general aversion to flying solo.  So when the news of my Nannie’s passing arrived I wasn’t sure what to do.  I will be honest and say that my Nannie (whom I love and adore) had hoarding issues.  My quandary was to attend the services or to come at a later time to help with the clean-up (which I knew would be needed).  After hearing the sadness in my mom’s voice, I knew I needed to go for the services to support her.

Thus I found myself traveling by Amtrak (which I have always enjoyed) leaving my home at 4 AM in order to board on time. Right away in the depot, I met a delightful new friend who became my travelling partner on the first leg of the trip.  While awaiting the train’s arrival, we settled in on the vintage railroad benches in the original depot in Red Wing, MN, introducing ourselves.  It was an instantaneous liking that I am often blessed to find in my life.

She was travelling for business and was a first-time rail passenger with my journey more somber as a seasoned Amtrak customer.  We found seats near each other, and we watched each other’s items as one or the other of us walked about the train.  She settled in working on Christmas cards, and I settled in and slept (not having done so much for the week prior while fretting about my Nannie).  Later during one of our visits, we discovered our mutual love of our dogs – both being the proud mommas of goldens and our mutual love of all natural foods.

She was simply a gift as my long journey home had just begun.  We made plans to perhaps go out for dinner in Chicago, but due to a late arrival and my choice to upgrade to first class sleeping accommodations, it just didn’t work out.  We exchanged information and her Christmas card (so sweet), and we said our good-byes. It was a few moments later that God’s first revelation on this trip hit me.

A week before I left I had seen a sweet little story about childhood friends reconnecting over Facebook after many years. I spent a couple afternoons looking for my elementary best buddy, Teresa.  We were inseparable but lost contact when my family moved away.  My searches were fruitless, and that left me sad lamenting about the old saying that some people come into our lives for brief moment while others last a lifetime.  I am certain my enhanced melancholy had more to do with trying to keep my mind busy while my Nannie was lingering in the hospital.

As I watched my friend ride the escalator up out of the belly of Union Station, God revealed to me that He did answer my searches . . . just not the way I was expecting.  My new friend that He provided to usher me along the start of the journey was named –  Theresa!  With a few tears came the recognition of a reaped blessing through a prayer answered in God’s perfect way!

Voting matters . . . even to kids

Leave a reply

There are many things in life, good and bad, that our children learn from watching us.  On the good end of the spectrum, one of the things I have hoped to model for my children is the awesome privilege it is to exercise our right to vote in America.  Since they were born, my kiddos have been carted to voting booths in car seats, in near blizzards, uphill both ways.  (Okay the last part was a bit of an exaggeration, but car seats and blustery conditions are not.)

Not all experiences even in a country as great as ours are innate.  Just like the mourning doves each summer in my backyard teach their offspring, we need to model for our children the voting process.  Hence the reason that I have taken my kids along every time I vote.  Is it convenient? No.  Is it easy? No.  Would I rather go to the polling place by myself? Not in a million years!

My kiddos have come to expect that during election season that we will talk about the candidates and what they represent.  Then on voting day, we find a table (or sometimes the floor where we can be away from the crowd), and I read each and every word on the ballot.  We then discuss which candidate for whom we are going to vote.  Then we (well, actually I) mark the ballot.  When we are done discussing and marking the ballot, we cast our official ballot (which has evolved over the years as technology has changed).

Even when we moved away from the Marshall area briefly, we exercised our right to vote using the absentee ballot system.  (My kids were crushed when they could not go to the polling place and when they didn’t receive an “I voted” sticker by mail.)  It was then that I realized that my goal of  trying to teach my children about the election process and civic responsibilities that they “got it”.  They understood the importance of voting, and it mattered to them that I take them along.

Yes, I have strong convictions about my voting and making my vote count, and I also have friends in just about every political ideology group possible. Voting with my children isn’t indoctrination; it’s an educational opportunity. I vote very differently from my parents and siblings, and someday there is a good chance my children will do the same.  And I am okay with that.  In fact, my tenth grade son created his own political t-shirt for Election Day espousing his “vote” for Jimmy McMillan for President – because “The Rent is still too high”.   He did it to be silly, but sometimes in a world of incredibly mean-spirited attack ads some levity is needed. At the end of the day, I know where his actual vote would be cast, but I didn’t impede his freedom of expression today.

Voting matters – even to our kids! So if you haven’t had a chance to make it to the polls today.  I really encourage you to do so, and if you have kids under the age of 18, I HIGHLY encourage you to take them along.  You might get a few stares (like I did this morning with 3 kids in tow waiting in line at 6:50 AM for my ward’s polling place to open), but you never know, you might get a few smiles from those that see a family voting together.

God Bless America!  God Bless You! And, please vote today!

To everything there is a season

Leave a reply

Ecclesiastes 3 is foundation for the title today. This set of verses in Ecclesiastes has always been one of my favorites.  I love those verses so much that a dear friend gave them to me on a plaque that hangs in my dining room.   I have welcomed the literal change of seasons in southwestern Minnesota, especially in relation to my gardens.  The verses have been a soothing balm when I have, often in retrospect, applied them to my children’s growth and maturity or even to the loss or waning of friendships.  But just this morning, God laid them on my heart because of something big that is occurring in my life tomorrow.

If I were completely honest, I wrestled with God on this blog.  I just wanted to go forward with the least amount of people knowing.  God, however, had other ideas.  I have learned over the years that when God stirs me, I should act.

For years, I have struggled with reproductive health issues.  Given that I have had three midterm miscarriages, years of health struggles and a personal family history of many hysterectomies in their 30’s, I shouldn’t be that surprised.  In my head, I know that my procedure tomorrow is medically necessary, but in my heart I am not ready for that season to come to end.

Thankfully, my procedure is much less intense than a complete hysterectomy, but it does mark the end of my ability to bear children, which was growing up one of my two life goals.  All I ever wanted was to be a mom and to be a teacher.  Thank goodness – I have a husband who understood my goals, because we discussed raising kids on our first date. (And he DIDN’T run for the hills!)

Telling my head and my body (which is tired of being tired and anemic) that I need this procedure is one thing. Convincing my heart is another matter entirely. Birthing more children has not been on our agenda at all, but when the reality of the end loomed, my heart ached.

I am grateful to close friends and family for their advice and love over the last week and half.  A few have had the same, similar or larger procedures.  Not one has poo-pooed my feelings, and actually most have shared they experienced the same.  One friend even went so far as to say that most women have a long period of time to adjust to that idea, but it is as if the doctors slammed the door on me.  Her words were prophetic, speaking exactly what my heart was feeling.  Two friends, who know me very well, went out of their way to call and encourage to not delay because their procedures were the best things they had done for themselves in years. Offers for help with the kids, help for me, and of course, prayers came pouring in as well.

Through their kindnesses, I have seen God’s message of love.  My friends don’t want to see me suffer through anymore.  They don’t want to see me miss out on things because I am either tired or afraid to go out because there might be “accidents”. I think instinctively they knew that due to losing four of our own children this would be a BIG deal to me.  Even more than all of that, they know (sometimes more than I know) that God has plans for me and my life, and often my health gets in the way.

So today, while I know that my heart is going to need some time to adjust, I am not going to mope or be fearful. I realize after God’s reminder of these verses this morning that he is the Creator of all things, including the inspiration for medical procedures that do indeed transform lives. Also, I see through my friends and family that God’s love is all over this transition in my life.

I really didn’t want to write this blog, but God reminded of how many years I suffered in silence.  This most private of topics was something that I didn’t want to air publicly, but God said since when has that stopped me. He was right, of course, because I have no problem sharing deeply about my grief, loss, and faith. Why would my health be any different? I didn’t want to share that I am vulnerable and that I might need help, but when I did, many stepped up and offered it.  Even my fears for the procedure itself were laid to rest by the sweet surgeon’s reassurances echoed by the same day surgery nurse.

Yes, a season of my life is coming to an end, but I know, I KNOW, that God has something amazing waiting in store for me at the beginning of my new SEASON.

LOVE NOTE:  Our physical needs have been graciously attended for the next several days, but all prayers will be coveted!

A great love story . . . chapter 1

Leave a reply

Over the weekend, my family and I had the honor to attend and participate in our oldest nephew’s wedding.  We had a fabulous weekend and experience.  Despite earlier forecasts of cold rain, gray skies and wind, it was a beautiful, North Dakota fall day with sunshine and a temperature warmer than predicted.  The weather however wasn’t what made the day so special.  More so, it was the love that was shared among our family.

If I were completely honest I would say that the bride and groom, Jeanette and Derek were somewhat disappointed with several things that happened that day.  None of which were within their control.  Knowing their feelings was what prompted me to write this blog.  I have many more years of life under my feet and a few more miles on my marriage which will be celebrating 20 years in May.  I promise if I were J & D, I would have been let down as well, but through my eyes a great love story is just starting to be written.

No matter which way I looked all I saw was love.  Love for Derek and Jeanette and for those that love them.  Instead of writing that chapter (which really isn’t mine to write), I am choosing to share snippets of what I experienced that day.

  • A buzz of excitement at several houses as details were tended to get people ready.  For Cloie alone, it took one and half hours to do her hair.  At 7, that is a long time to sit . . . for love.
  • After a wardrobe malfunction (think white tux on a 4 year old ring bearer), the best man runs to the only store in town to find a Clorox pen.  All that fuss. . . for love.
  • The bride asking how the groom was doing only to be told, “He’s nervous.”  A spirit of panic filled the room, until it was explained that he was nervous not about marrying the girl of his dreams, but because he wanted the day to perfect for that same girl.  A real human emotion . . . for love.
  • Even though the aisle was too small for my request and I did get some raised eyebrows, I was escorted by both my son and my godson down the aisle to my pew seat. Despite the fact that we didn’t fit real well, my boys obliged out . . . of love.
  • Insistence on the couple’s part to not see each other before the ceremony was firm as family and friends executed spy-like missions to transport one or the other throughout the church.  None involved have espionage experience, but all willingly participated . . .for love.
  • When the big moment finally came, nary a dry eye could be found watching as both the bride and groom cried during her processional into the church.  I have been to many weddings in my lifetime, and I can only recall one other time that occurred.  Overcome . . . by love.
  • Family pictures following the ceremony went very smoothly. (As a former photographer’s assistant for weddings, that is a rare.)  No protests of “being as photogenic as a dishrag” were uttered and no hunting for family needed for pictures occurred.  Willing participants . . . for love.
  • There were moments of missing family and a friend who passed away the same day.  But other family stepped in and loved on those feeling that grief – not to take away the hurt, but to recognize the raw, conflicting emotions.  Their presence and encouragement only based . . . in love.
  • At the reception, things were a little hectic.  Aunties, uncles, and parents choreographed an amazing dance of filling bowls and bellies with food and refreshment.   Not done because of obligation or duty, but . . . for love.
  •  When cake cutting time happened, aunties and cousins sprang into action to cut and deliver that ornate confectionary delicacy to the guests.  Teenagers and younger serving just because help was needed showed nothing but . . . love.
  • Dancing time was a family affair with an opportunity that melted my heart, I had the honor of dancing with the groom’s brother.  (I will admit I was second choice because Erin had been swept away by the ring-bearer.)  But having an opportunity to privately visit with my nephew while twirling around the dance floor filled my heart . . . with love.
  • The bouquet toss was quite an experience (as was the garter toss).  But seeing the tiniest girl out there literally perform a dive that would rival a spectacular end zone touchdown reception was a sight to behold.  Yes, Cloie caught the bouquet which sits on her dresser now.  Even though we agree Prince Charming can wait many (MANY) years to show up here, Cloie’s motivation was to take home more than memories of a day filled . . . with love.

Anyone who has ever planned or participated in a wedding knows that something ALWAYS goes awry.  There is always a hitch in getting hitched.  Hopefully, it becomes something that you can look back and laugh about like the cake at our wedding (that almost caused me to cancel the wedding) or the bridal party that was stuck in the gondola for over an hour coming up to a mountaintop wedding.  My hopes are that instead of dwelling on the things that went wrong, my nephew and his bride can look through my eyes and see their wedding day was filled with more than just the love the two of them shared.

They were joined in marriage before God and blessed by family.  In my opinion, that is the greatest beginning to a love story.