Archive for April, 2008
The restaurant was packed. It was Friday night and in our town people go out to eat, particularly on the weekend. It seems everyone wants to celebrate the end of the work week. This night was no different.
My friends and I had just gotten our food and was about to eat when something like black strings or yarn seemed to hang from my glasses. I reached up to push them away or pull them off, but I could not feel anything there. The friend I was with asked what I was doing. I replied I was trying to get some black strings off my glasses. She looked kind of perplexed and said, “There’s nothing there.” That’s when I knew something had gone wrong with my left eye.Then the white light flashing in the corner of my eye began. I didn’t know what had happened, but I knew this could be serious.
The next day I went to an optometrist for an eye exam. After a very careful examination he told me I’d had a posterior visceous detachment but the retina was not torn. The following Monday I got an appointment with an ophthalmologist who confirmed the earlier diagnosis. However, during this exam the doctor discovered that I have cataracts. The right eye needed surgery as soon as I could arrange it. So another part of me had to be fixed.
This year has been the year of patch and repatch. July 2007 began this process of fixing things as they either quite working as they were supposed to or came loose. In July it was discovered that I have a “stiff” heart. Not a hard heart, but an inflexible one. Basically it is not soft and pliable as it should be and so it doesn’t pump all of the blood out of my heart, which causes blood to back up and not get to all of the places it needs to go. This in turn causes fluid to build up, and the scenario can just escalate from there. There isn’t much of a cure; just aggressive blood pressure control, eliminate fluid build up, and keep as much stress off my heart as possible. Sounds simple enough, that is until you try to keep up your same pace. That’s when the truth hits you right between the eyes–you will no longer be the same physically. Gone are the days of running on empty, sleeping a few hours, and starting all over again the next day. And now, my eyes needed fixing.
I tend to think that things happen for a reason, particularly for the child of God. And I’ve often told people that nothing touches the Christian that doesn’t first pass through God’s hands. So, how do I reconcile my beliefs with what is happening to me physically? It hasn’t been easy.
I suppose the most difficult part has been learning to pace myself, to slow down and rest. I have always done what needed doing whenever it needed to be done and I didn’t need anyone’s help either. But now I can’t clean my house. I can’t drive 9 hours to see my grandchildren. And the list could just go on and on. However, there are some things I will be able to do once I make some lifestyle changes and learn to pace myself. Even when I have the lens replacement done I’ve been assured that I’ll only need reading glasses. I’ve not seen that well since I was a child. So, all is not lost. My life is not over.
I have come to realize that God surely must have let my symptoms manifest themselves in order to give me more life, not take it from me. My heart, while not cured, is manageable. It is something I’m learning to live with. I do what I can and rest when I need to; I pick and choose what I do, when, where, and for how long. And with new eyes, I should be able to continue editing for several more years, not to mention writing. So, what I first thought was the bleakest of circumstances has turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Instead of taking my life, God is making it possible for me to continue to contribute, to be a viable participant in life.
I would be remiss if I did not mention the gift God has given me in faithful friends who have walked with me through all of these changes. They constantly remind me to slow down, to rest, watch my diet, be sure I take my medicine, and just generally nag me to do what the doctor says. They know I love them and appreciate all they do because I’ve told them.
Whether I live to be 80 or only another day, either way the best is yet to come. And I’m very thankful.
Grams
You’ve just received word that the company is downsizing and your job has been eliminated. Fear, anxiety, anger, even a sense of hopelessness flood your mind. What will you do? Where will you go? In the back of your mind you know that you may have to relocate. Change.
The last few months you have spent hours going over brochures of colleges, trying to decide which one is the right choice to make. You want your son or daughter, as the case may be, to be satisfied with the decision, but finances play a major role in the choice that is made. Finally the day arrives when that one who has been a major part of your life for 18 years is leaving home, going off to college. Your stomach knots up as you struggle to hold back the tears. It won’t be the same, ever again. Change.
The church’s facilities are old and in need of major repair. The demographics of the city have shifted and to be affective, the church must consider its future role in its present community. Avenues for outreach have almost come to a standstill due to language and custom barriers. In the back of everyone’s mind is the nagging question of what to do. If we move, where to, when, and who will lead? Whatever the church decides to do everyone knows that things will never be the same again. Change.
People fear change. It is an unknown and in that quality resides the fear that both causes change and hinders it. Today it’s called stepping out of your comfort zone and I guess that’s a good name for it. Still it means you have to do something you’ve never done before; embrace another man’s vision and decide whether or not you can trust him. That’s what it comes down to in the long run. Trust, pure and simple. But have you noticed just how hard that can be, to place total trust in someone, regardless of who he or she may be?
Have you ever considered why God placed men over His flock; why He gave mortal men the responsibility of looking after His children while in this life? Give that some thought, I mean beyond the textbook answer. Maybe, just maybe, God knew us well enough to realize that if anything substantial was ever to be accomplished on planet earth, we needed someone to follow; someone we could see, talk to, build a relationship with; someone physical with the same sinful tendencies we all have, yet able to live a life that inspires us to walk closer to our God. I know we have God’s Word and I believe it is the infallible, inerrant Word of almighty God, but at times I still need that human interaction, that human example of faith, of depending on God, of standing for what’s right.
Look at the apostle Paul. He’s the one who said, “Follow me as I follow the Lord” (paraphrase). The prophets of old admonished the people under their hearing to listen and do as they said. Then of course there’s Moses, possibly the greatest leader of all time. He returned to a people, who had sought his life, with the command of God to lead those same people out of Egypt to a land “flowing with milk and honey”–the Promised Land. Now that was change, and the people followed, complaining and griping all the way.
If God has placed you in a position of leadership over a group of people much like the Israelites headed for Canaan or even 1st century Christians, take heart. You stand in the gap; you are the one most will look to, not the Lord. Most of your people will follow the Lord only as you do. And in that you will be able to inspire some to train their eye on Christ and not on you. And when that happens you will have instigated change. You will have forced people out of their comfort zone. Where once your people looked only to you for how to live, what to believe, how to trust, and how to serve, as time goes by they will keep their eyes on Christ and follow where He leads; live as He teaches; believe what He says, and serve where He leads.
The neat thing about the entire process is that it never stops. There will always be others to take the place of those who have matured to the point that they will follow Christ, even if, God forbid, you don’t. They will have changed–stepped out of their comfort zone–and the church takes another step forward. And that’s a good thing.
Whether your voice speaks from time past; whether you walk out of the desert or come down from the hills, God has called you to be a catalyst for change. And that will impact people’s hearts, minds, and emotions. In order for you to accomplish what God has for you, you too may have to step out of your comfort zone. You up to it? I sure hope so.
Grams
Memorial Day–the day all Americans honor those who have given their lives in service for their country. Often there are parades, barbecues, ceremonies on the courthouse square, and family outings to commemorate the significance of this day. This particular Memorial Day, after the parade, there was to be a ceremony honoring the town’s veterans. At the conclusion of the ceremony the mayor wanted someone to pay taps.
Now, in a small southern town that meant whoever was first chair in the high school band trumpet section had that honor. But this year, the boy who held first chair had a schedule conflict. So, second chair was asked to play. Second chair in the trumpet section was my son, Brian. This was a special time for him, particularly since he was a year younger than the other guy. This was something that should not have come to him for at least another year, maybe even two.
He had only a couple of days to practice. And yes, he was nervous. He was to stand on the court house square at the flag pole. Following the parade, people were to gather around while the mayor recognized the veterans that were present and made a speech. Then it would be Brian’s time to play. Over and over, what seemed like every waking moment, Brian played taps. To me it seemed simple enough; quite straightforward really. But to a sophomore in high school, it was a major undertaking. After all, the entire town would be there. Well, not really, but in his mind there was going to be a huge crowd and he wanted to do his best. I couldn’t fault him because that is what I expected of him anyway.
The day was bright and sunny, just right for all that would take place that day. When the time came for Brian to play, he stood a little to the right of the flag pole, closed his eyes, and did what he knew to do. And it was flawless! Quiet settled over the crowd. Some of the older men wiped tears from their eyes, remembering a time far in the past when those they had fought with did not get to come home. Family members of those same men hung their heads in silent recognition of their absence. As the last note floated away, carried off on a gentle spring breeze, a sigh rippled through the crowd. No one moved; no one wanted to forget. Children who did not understand what had just happened were quiet; they knew it was a special time. And it was.
There was another day, years later, when Brian stood to the side of those gathered to commemorate the passing of their friend and comrade. This time it was not on the court house square, not even in the United States. This time Brian was with the 3rd ID in Iraq and they were holding services for those who had died the day before. Apparently, he was the only bugler in that part of Iraq. After the services, the battalion commander said, “Son, this time was different. You knew him, didn’t you?” Brian said, “Yes, Sir. He was my friend.”
Brian had gone on to take a degree in music performance out of high school, so the level of expertise was greater. But it was not Brian’s expertise with the trumpet that made the difference in the two events. This time Brian knew; this time the men who had died were men he had fought with; men he had talked with, ate with; had shared life with. All the emotion that flooded his heart poured from his trumpet. He honored their sacrifice.
Memorial Day is about a month away. Maybe you haven’t fought alongside men in combat, but you definitely are reaping the benefits of those who have. Think about what you have and how your life would be if men down through the years had not been willing to fight so you could live. Take the time to honor their sacrifice. Remember.
Grams
It was hunter green and made of the softest brushed suede. Chris looked through the rack. Yep, there was one in his size. He slipped it off the rack and tried it on; it was a perfect fit. Gently his hands rubbed the suede; he checked the fit in the mirror. Before he asked, I reminded him it was $149.99. I did not have the money and saw no way to come up with it. Besides, I could get two for the price of that one at Wal Mart.
He knew, even before I said anything. But he wanted that jacket. He asked how much would I be willing to pay. He was intent on working out a deal with me. That was his style and he was good at it too. I thought for a minute; I wanted to be sure of my terms before I said anything. “OK, if the price drops below $50, I’ll get it for you, providing there is still one in your size.” He grinned and said, “It’s a deal.”
I turned to walk on but Chris lingered. He had taken the jacket off, put it back on the rack, and was standing there, holding on to the jacket with his head down. Great! Now he was praying.
Chris didn’t mention the jacket anymore, but every time we went to Belks, he always checked that rack. His size was still there. Then, one day the price was down to $115. He just grinned and walked on. Each week we made a trip to Belks just to check the price of that jacket. As the price continued to drop, I knew I had better find $50 somewhere.
Several weeks later we walked into the store for our weekly price check. Three jackets remained on the rack. The sign read, $39.95. Chris looked up at me with anticipation. What if after all this time there was not one in his size? He looked at the three remaining jackets. Yes! One was his size! He tried it on again, just to be sure it fit. He said, “I knew God would give me this jacket. I needed one and I asked Him for this one.” Then, he again bowed his head; this time he was thanking his provider, not asking.
That day a happy little boy walked out with a hunter green, brushed suede jacket God had put on lay-away, just for him. That same day a proud momma was humbled by the faith of her 12 year-old son.
Grams
“You can read any book I have.” Daddy had just given me permission to read his books. Now that might not seem like such a big deal to most people, but to a 13 year-old “bookworm” that was heaven. No longer did I have to wait until I could get to the local library. If I was out of something to read, I could just go to his bookshelves and choose a book. The biggest decision I faced at the moment was deciding which book to read first.
I usually read one to two books a day. I could do that as long as I kept my grades up. Daddy had only one standard–excellence. It was the standard he set for himself and he expected the same from his children. We were encouraged to follow our interests, to become who God meant for us to be. Whatever your capabilities were, he expected you to use them to the fullest extent.
So, for me that meant study, read, talk with him about what I’d read, and then read some more. I credit my father with my love for learning, reading, and now writing. I didn’t use writing as a means of expression when growing up. That seemed to be a time when I was absorbing, learning, finding out what my interests were and what I was going to do with them. The writing came much later.
For a long time I did not consider writing more than academic. But then God placed me at Randall House. For the past decade I’ve had the opportunity to develop a love for writing that did not exist before. One contributing factor has been my work as an editor. Through the editorial process I’ve read work that was publishable and then some that was destined for file #13. The technical side has progressed until I no longer consider myself a novice. Where do I go from here?
A good friend and associate encouraged me to open a blog. I knew others at work were blogging. In fact, all my editors were so it made sense for me to follow suit. Hence, Grams Writes, The Rambling Musings of a Southern Rose.
This is one of the most enjoyable pursuits I’ve embarked upon in my adult life. Through this avenue I’m developing the artistic side of writing–description, dialogue, setting, and character. I’ve not mastered it yet, but I will continue to try. Will I be successful? I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Do I have a book to write? Who knows? One thing I do know, God did not give me this desire to write and not expect me to do something with it. So, again, we’ll see.
Grams
It was time. Chris had just bought his first vehicle, which meant he would pay his own auto insurance. The last financial tie to me was about to be cut. He was as proud as I was happy. Then the phone rang. There was a problem with the insurance. Actually, it was with his driving license. It had been suspended. When? Four years ago. Why? He had failed to notify the Safety Board of proof of insurance after an accident he’d had. Neither of us knew that was a requirement. This did not look good. Possibly a large fine.
Chris had been driving with a suspended license for four years. To add to the dilemma, he was a member of the Evangels, a group at his college that traveled over the country presenting gospel dramas. He was also the driver. The thought of what could have happened in those four years sent chills up my spine, but the faithfulness and protection of almighty God far outweighed any fears I had entertained.
To reinstate the license Chris had to go to the Safety Board with proof of insurance at the time of the accident that had resulted in the suspension. That was easy enough. The hard part was payment of the fine that stared him in the face. If is was substantial, he was in trouble.
I went with him to the Safety Board. Apparently we were not the only ones in trouble that day. Long lines stood before each window. What we needed was a kind, considerate person to whom we could present our case. He and I studied how each clerk responded to the different problems that were presented and made our choice.
Whether it was our choice or the hand of God, we definitely made the right choice. No one could have been more understanding and kind. She looked at the documentation Chris gave her and keyed in the information. He had his check book in hand. When he asked how much he owed, she smiled and said, “There’s no fine for this. You clearly had insurance when the accident occurred. Your license is reinstated.” We thanked her and headed for the exit before she changed her mind.
Standing on the steps at the front door, Chris looked up to the sky and proclaimed for all to hear: “Jehovah has jirehed again”!
Was the boy happy? Oh, yeah!
Grams
The burden grew heavier each day. Almost unbearable, yet he had agreed to make the journey and he would do what was expected of him. It was his responsibility. The ring must be destroyed, at all costs. He was set upon his course; he was headed for the mountain where the fire that had birthed the ring waited to destroy it. But he was not alone. Sam walked every mile with him, always helping, ever alert for danger. Now they were nearing the end.
Frodo lay unmoving, unable to stand. The mountain was in sight; they were so near, yet so far. Sam reached down, and pulled Frodo onto his shoulders. ” Come on, Mr. Frodo. I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you” (my favorite line in the entire trilogy).
Sam was Frodo’s gardener, a simple man in some people’s minds. He was not the one entrusted with the ring. He was not the one people looked to for leadership nor was he expected to have all the answers. Yet, when the going was the toughest, Sam came through. It is doubtful Frodo’s mission would have been successful had Sam not tagged along.
Loyal. That’s how I’d describe Sam. He was never very far from Frodo. Although Frodo was committed to destroying the ring, Sam was committed to Frodo. The task that had been thrust upon Frodo was made easier by Sam’s loyalty and faithfulness. When Frodo could go no farther, Sam stepped to the plate; he stood in the gap.
“I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you.”
Has God entrusted you with a task that, at times, seems almost impossible to complete? Exhausted you lay crumpled, unable to get up. Despair washes over you, draining you of every ounce of courage you ever possessed. You need a Sam who will come alongside you, pick you up and set you back on the course God has planned for you. Look around. Somewhere, maybe lurking back in the shadows, God has placed a Sam in your life to watch out for you; to step to the plate; to stand in the gap when life becomes tough.
“I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you.”
Don’t miss out on the blessing of being Sam. Frodo needs you.
Grams
Up ahead gaped the open mouth of a large cave. Hungry and thirsty, he stumbled into its darkness. Exhaustion forced him to the ground. He had been running for days and now all he wanted to do was rest. And sleep! Sweet, peaceful oblivion! That’s what he needed.
Sometime in the night a strong wind tore across the mountainside. Elijah went out upon the mountain as the winds blew harder and harder. The storm blew with such force trees and rocks were jolted from their places. Then as if on cue, the mountain began to shake, seeming to crumble underneath him. Fear gripped his heart like he’d never known before. Never in all his life had he lived through such a rage of nature.
What was that he smelled? Smoke. He smelled smoke! A bolt of lightening must have struck a tree, causing a fire to burn what little was left standing. Elijah stood as if in a trance. He looked all around him; there was nothing left. What had not been destroyed by the great wind and mighty earthquake, the fire had burned. Now what would he do?
In that one night all the forces of nature had converged upon one spot. Wind; earthquake; fire! What a magnificent display of the power of God! But wait, what was that? That sounded like someone whispered my name!
Elijah crept out from his hiding place, shivering from the fear that still held him in its grasp. There it was again–the sound of a low whisper. The voice spoke again; it was the whisper of God.
Another time a storm raged. This time is was on the Sea of Galilee and the twelve disciples were trying to reach the other side. But the harder they rowed, the farther from shore it seemed they were. Waves of water washed over the sides of the boat. At any moment the boat could sink. It was filling with water faster than they could bail.
Down in the bottom of the boat Jesus lay sleeping. Someone shook Him awake. “Master, don’t you care we are about to sink? Help us!” Jesus stood up, walked to the front of the boat, and raised his arms toward heaven. Then in a quiet voice, almost like a whisper, Jesus said, “Peace! Be still!”
Once again the whisper of God could be heard above the raging torrents of nature, turned loose to wreak its havoc. Once again the tumult ceased. Where do you look for the whisper of God? Do you see His handiwork in the mighty displays of nature? Do you observe His power in the transformation that takes place in people’s lives when they come to know Him personally? Do you look for Him amid the fears, uncertainties, and doubts of everyday life? Have you found Him yet?
Let the winds die down; let the thunder and lightening subside; wait for the trembling to come to a standstill; look for a lull in the storm and you will hear it–the low whisper of God. Just as He did with Elijah; just as He did for His disciples years later, Jesus gently nudges you from out of the storm. “Child, what are you doing here?”
Now it’s your turn to speak. What will you tell Him?
Grams
Andrew raised his arms and threw with all his might. The net sailed over his head and out into the water landing exactly where he wanted it. Slowly he began the arduous task of hauling in the net with its catch. A smile played along his lips. He enjoyed being out on the water, tasting the salt in the wind as the waves rocked the boat back and forth. Business was good; all the hard work he and his brother had done was finally paying off. They even had plans of adding another boat to their fishing business. Maybe that could happen before the next fishing season got under way.
Walking alongside the Sea of Galilee, Jesus stopped to watch as Simon and Andrew cast their nets. He called to them, “Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of me.” The Scripture says that they immediately left their nets and followed Him.
The nets symbolized everything about those two men. They were fishermen; this was their livelihood; the way they paid their bills. It was their identity; who they were. But at the call of Jesus both unhesitatingly dropped their nets, docked their boat, and got in step with Jesus. These men left behind all they had been previously and followed Jesus of Nazareth.
When Jesus calls us today, He asks us to do the same thing Simon and Andrew did–to leave all and follow Him. Maybe we do not have to change our occupation as those two did. That depends upon the role Jesus has for each of us in His kingdom’s work, but our decision to become a follower of Jesus Christ entails a complete surrender of who we are, our dreams and aspirations, as we give the Lord Jesus Christ first place in our lives.
Why would two fishermen willingly turn their backs on who they were to become completely different? Why should you and I be willing to do that? Could it be because Jesus has made a better offer? How does the best this world has to offer stack up against what you have when you become a follower of the Son of God? How do you think fishing compared to eternal life? When Jesus calls you to come follow Him, lay aside whatever you’re doing and get in step with Jesus. You will become a fisher of men.
Grams
The sirens blared and cars began to pull to the curb. Behind me I could see the flashing lights and what looked to be two police cars coming on fast. One car pulled even with me and motioned for me to stop while the other policeman went ahead to stop traffic at the next intersection. Everyone craned their necks to see what the problem was. Why was traffic stopped both ways and nothing seemed to be wrong?
Coming toward me in the opposite lane was a little black car, running wide open. Behind him was another police cruiser and this one was closing the gap with that little black car mighty fast. As both cars passed, the policemen who had stopped traffic pulled in behind them.
More sirens! I counted seven additional police cruisers as they zipped past, all after that little black car. I had just witnessed a real, live “hot pursuit”!
What had he done to warrant such a chase? I considered his options. He had none. The direction he was headed offered no escape that I could see. And eventually his fuel would run out. Why didn’t he just pull over, surrender, and face whatever he had done? I shook my head in disbelief and muttered something about “such foolishness.”
How many times have people shook their heads at me and muttered those same words? So many times that little black car could have been me and the police cruiser a loving God. Time after time I’ve run, wide open, hunting some avenue of escape, with Jesus Christ coming on fast, closing the gap. Just like the driver of that black car, I needed to pull over, surrender to the authority of Christ in my life, and face the consequences. Just like that police cruiser, Jesus didn’t back off. Right in behind me He came, never letting up. And He’s not above calling in reinforcements either.
Nothing is more daunting than for someone you admire, someone you want to think well of you, someone you love, or someone who loves you, to get in your face and point out where you’ve gotten off course. Nothing causes you to hang your head any lower than to look into the eyes of someone you know who only has your best interest at heart and realize that once again you’ve made wrong choices. And to top it off, neither Jesus or His reinforcements turn their backs on you. They assure you ever so gently that you are special to them; they still love you.
I hope the driver of the little black car fares as well
Grams