Archive for May, 2008
I left Nashville May 14 for an extended work vacation. Only the marvel we call technology made this trip possible. Monday through Friday I was at work, sometimes all day and other days part of the day. Then in the afternoon and evenings I was free to spend time with my sons and their families. It has been a most relaxing time away. But, I am ready to go home.
The older I get the more I realize that the saying, “There’s no place like home,” becomes more and more a reality. While I was treated like a queen, every need met and then some; while I was loved and doted on by my grandchildren, it is time I return to the high calling of my life–overseeing the publication of the most dynamic Sunday School curriculum available today. While most people are able to reach only a small number of acquaintances on a regular basis, the products I and my editors work on go into over 250,000 homes each week. Now that is an amazing outreach for the kingdom! High calling is surely the name for what I do.
I don’t know if my editors are ready to see me, but I am most anxious to see them. The Godfather or the Queen Mom or the Sarg or just plain Dianne is headed home.
Grams
I am on the last leg of my trip. I left South Carolina Saturday, May 24, to spend a few days with my youngest son, Chris, who lives in Georgia. Both boys live in rural areas. It is amazing how quickly both of them walked away from big city life and stepped back into a full-fledged country lifestyle. I believe they refer to it as an agrarian lifestyle. Regardless of what you call it, both Brian and Chris seem to be perfectly happy plowing, planting, harvesting, fishing, hunting, riding four-wheelers, relaxing in the big swing on the front porch, and the list can just go on and on. Of course, they do have jobs they go to every day, but that is just to pay the bills. Their life begins when they get home.
If you want fish for dinner, you get a rod and reel and go to the pond. (You need to watch for snakes; they’re crawling already. That means they’ve come out of winter hibernation and looking for food and water.) Less than an hour later, you have enough fish for everybody on the farm to enjoy. If you want steak, you choose your steak from the beef that was killed last fall and put in the freezer. Sometimes you sit down to the table to what looks like beef but it is actually venison. Now, people who know what they’re doing can fix venison to where you can’t tell the difference between it and beef. I had grilled venison just this past Sunday. It was very good. If you need potatoes to go with the fish, steak, venison, or chicken, a trip to the garden is all that’s required. The potatoes aren’t quite ready to turn up, but you can find enough for one meal. It’s called “scratching” for potatoes. Then of course, any kind of vegetable you want has been either frozen or canned.
Geese and ducks galore float around on the ponds. Goats graze along the pond’s edge, mingling with the cattle. Chickens cackle and cluck, announcing to the world when they’ve laid their eggs. By the way, they taste much better than even the organic eggs in the grocery stores. In fact, everything tastes better than what you buy from Krogers.
Now, there is electricity and running water; they both have TVs, video games, air conditioning, cell phones, and all the gadgets that make modern life more enjoyable. The thing I’ve noticed is that the pace is just slower, even amid activity. The work is never done; there is always something to do, but it is not hectic. I really don’t know how to define it exactly. This may be something I need to sit on the porch and think on some more. That calls for a big glass of iced tea!
Grams
The afternoon quiet was disrupted by Will and Neil yelling, “Come quick, Dad. There’s something under the porch.” Brian walked out on the porch and listened to the noise coming from the underside of the floor where he stood. He walked into the yard and looked under the porch. He gave the boys a grin and said “It’s OK. It’s just a ‘possum.” He might as well have said there was a bear under the porch.
The boys began to ask questions. What did it look like? Would it bite you? Can we catch it? If we catch it, can we keep it? Finally, Brian gave the boys a stern look and told them not to go under the porch, to leave the ‘possum alone ’cause it would bite them if they messed with him. Then he went back into the house.
I sat in the swing watching. Will and Neil looked at each other and then ran to the edge of the porch. They might as well have held up a sign. Under the porch their little heads went, but not for long. Leaves rustled, the boys squealed, and then there was that telltale sound; the ‘possum had bared his teeth and getting ready for a fight if need be. I hollered for the boys to get back and leave the animal alone. For once they obeyed without question.
Neil ran over to me and said, “Grams, now don’t you stick your head under the porch ’cause that big ole ‘possum will bite your head off”! I dutifully assured my protector that I had no intention of going near anything that looked remotely like a rat and I definitely was not going to poke my head under the porch.
Grams
Expectations . . . great, unreal, or even none. Have you ever considered just how much expectations define our lives? The expectations you have at the beginning of your day may be great, even grand. There is so much to do; exciting projects to undertake; fascinating people to meet; or your great expectation may be more in line with a quiet and restful morning spent relaxing on your deck with a cup of coffee. Either way, for you the day holds promise of good things to come.
As the day moves forward, problems come up; cancellations; appointments missed; even your morning cup of coffee is interrupted by a phone call. Once it starts, the day just seems to spiral downward. Nothing is going like you’d planned or hoped. The excitement of the morning wanes, energy lags, and you begin to realize that some of what you expected was unfounded. Proper planning had not taken place. Necessary data had not been collected; contacts were not made. By now your day is almost over and you accept the fact that what had been great expectations has now dwindled to none. At least for this day. The only reprieve you can fathom is a quiet evening at home and even that may not materialize like you expect.
Now this does not describe every day or every person, but the point is to show how easy it is to let expectations determine our approach to life. When I begin my day focusing on what the day’s circumstances will bring into my life instead of giving each day to the Lord, I set myself up for disappointment and failure. If I depend on my plans, my desires, or my expectations to define who I am and what I do, then when those plans, desires, and expectations do not come about, I am left with nothing.
On the other hand, when I greet my day with complete faith and trust in a God who loved me enough to die so I could live; when I give Him total control over every aspect of my life each new day, then at the end of that day, my expectations are still grand, even glorious because He is faithful. He never goes back on His word and He has promised to provide for me all I will ever need.
Do I have to plan for this? Do I have to meet certain criteria or deadlines for this to happen? No, I simply make Him Lord of my life. From that moment on I live with the surety of abundant life now and a place in heaven with Him for all eternity. So how do you want to start your day? Will you let circumstances rule or faith in Jesus? Only Jesus guarantees GREAT EXPECTATIONS.
Grams
The pond is just across the road and through the woods a bit. Actually, there are four ponds and I’m sure Brian has fished in all of them. He has been fishing all afternoon and now it’s time for supper. We have called him on his cell phone and he’s promised he’ll be there shortly. But time goes by and still he doesn’t show. So, we decide to go after him; it’s not far to the pond but it’s a good ride on the golf cart.
Geraldine (the other grandmother), Neil (5 year old), and I start out. The terrain is just what you’d expect in a wooded area that has been cleared and bush hogged–dips and holes all the way. Once we get past the narrow pathway between two smaller ponds, Neil wants to drive. Now, I’m getting nervous. I’ve already heard about his driving plus I don’t do rides at the fair very well. I don’t think I will handle this very well either, but I tell myself if Geraldine can do I can.
Now Neil is not as tall as most 5 year olds so he sits in Geraldine’s lap. This helps some but he still cannot see over the steering wheel. He has to look around the side of the wind shield to see. And he only knows one speed–as fast as it will go. I’m told to hang on; we’re going for a ride.
I get a good hand hold and brace myself for all the holes he’s sure to hit, and he doesn’t disappoint me at all. Geraldine tells him to slow down some but try telling a 5 year old to stop when he’s having the time of his life. But, I draw the line when we’re heading for a pond and he’s not making any effort to turn or slow down. I’m about ready to bail out when Geraldine manages to rescue us from this little guy who thinks he’s Jeff Gordon. Apparently my face told all they needed to know because Neil was relegated to the back seat with his dad on the way home.
Later that night, Neil told his dad, “I think I scared Grams. I didn’t mean to.” I’m sure explanations followed about being easy with Grams. I may not be invited to ride the golf cart again, but that’s OK with me if Neil is going to be the driver.
Grams
I left Nashville International Airport at 8:45 a.m. I had a 2 hour lay over in Charlotte before going on to Florence SC. With today’s gas prices I actually flew cheaper than I could have driven. Once I got to my son’s house I only had about an hour before Will and Neil got in from school. Ever needed to rest in a hurry? That’s what I faced, but there’s just no way it happens.
I had pushed back in the recliner with my feet up when I heard the car pull into the driveway. They were here! Before I could put my feet down and get up out of the chair a 5 year old and his 7 year old brother flung themselves across my body. There they lay, or should I say, there I lay amid all the squeals and hugs and kisses. “Grams, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you so much. I asked mother everyday all week, now when is Grams coming.”
At this point it is required of grandmothers who haven’t seen her grandsons since Christmas to see all the new “stuff” they have gotten. So, a trip to each one’s room is necessary. After the appropriate “oohs” and” ahhs” have been exclaimed, then it’s back to the den where each boy perches on the recliner, one on each side of me. A lot of time is spent just being together; valuable time that cannot be reclaimed. These times are the most precious moments in a grandmother’s life; the kind that never loses it’s fascination, regardless of age, theirs and mine.
The next morning I am awakened by a whispered inquiry, “Grams, I was just seeing if you were still here. Did you sleep OK?” Yes, Grams slept just fine. Actually better than she has in a while.
Grams
Here I am, Lord, uniquely gifted with skill, time, and energy graciously provided by you. I recognize this. And I believe that you have me where you want me, which means that this particular job that I thought last week was a real bummer is, in actual fact, a high calling, and I am going to live and work today as if that is exactly what it is.
I have this short paragraph displayed very prominently in my office as a reminder of why I do what I do and for whom. I really don’t recall where I first read it, but it so intrigued me that I copied it down. My friends tell me I analyze everything to death, and maybe I do and I have.
Whatever makes up who I am comes from the hand of God. It may be much or little; other people may watch with envy at the level of expertise I may have in what I do or they may shake their head in wonder that I’ve gotten as far as I have. My day may be crammed with more “things” to do, places to go, and people to see than I can get to or I may not be able, for whatever reason, to step outside my door. Still, I recognize that God has granted me personality, gifts, talents, and a certain number of days in which He expects me to become the best I can at what He has for me to do. Actually that is the only gift I can give back to Him–what I do with my life.
I do believe I am where God wants me and doing the particular job He has called me to do. So, in light of that statement of belief, the only task ahead of me, regardless of how compartmentalized it may be, is to finish what I’ve started. The Lord Jesus Christ has set me upon a path, within a particular time frame, and given me the tools with which to become and do. Therefore, when I look at my job in this light, I realize that it is a high calling.
What do I do now? Follow suit; stick to the course; reach for the stars; continue on; excel; never quit becoming; stay focused, and finish what has begun. This life of mine that is a high calling? I will live and work today as if that is exactly what it is.
Grams
My computer has been in the shop. Keith took it to the Apple Store but they didn’t know what to do with it, so it was sent off for repair. I had not realized how attached I’d become to my MacBook. When I went home in the evenings I hardly knew what to do. I watched some movies and read something I didn’t have to edit, but those no longer held the appeal they once did. I really missed my laptop.
Keith hooked me up with an extra laptop at the office, but I couldn’t take it home ’cause it didn’t work really well if it was moved around a lot. So, even though I could work at my office, I still didn’t have my “toy” to play with in the evenings. Now, I know what you might be thinking, but you’d be wrong. I didn’t spend hours on the Internet; I didn’t play Solitaire or other mindless games; but I did write. And that’s what I have realized I missed. Not so much my tool, but the product this tool helped me create. And there’s where the attraction lay–writing.
I got my MacBook back today and it seems to be fixed. So, I can write and when I get through, I can write some more. I really need to catch up; I’d better hurry.
Grams
“There is no room for feelings of inadequacy before a totally adequate God”–Cinda King. When I read that I almost sat upright. In one short sentence, man’s place before almighty God has been defined. The writer is not talking about man’s failures and inabilities as compared to the power and magnificence of Jehovah God, but about God’s might and power that enables Him to completely supply all His children will ever need. Therefore, none of us, if we have made Christ Lord of our lives, are inadequate because He is not.
The word feelings caught my attention. The one idea that is touted today is that if it feels right, if it feels good, then do it. So, feelings rule; not intellect; not reason, and definitely not faith. So this idea of feelings washes over into everything we do and with the people we associate. It determines how we respond; whether or not we go or stay; even if we believe God or not.
What do I think this writer was really saying? Simply that before an omnipotent God, the God who spoke all that exists into being, I have no right to take the way out by claiming I’m inadequate. He has promised to supply whatever I need to do and be whatever He calls me to. Feelings–dangerous thoughts and emotions that can stymie the power of God. The next time you feel inadequate, instead of glorying in your perceived humility, remember that you stand before a “totally adequate God” and He makes you more than adequate.
Grams
Ellie held tightly to her dad’s hand. This was her first time at the beach and today would be a special day. She stood still, taking in as many of the sights and sounds as she could. The noise of the wind as it ruffled her hair, the waves rolling toward her and then back out to sea, the smell of salt water, the seagulls as they dipped and dived at unseen food, the sun that made diamonds sparkle out on the water, and the crunch of the sand under her feet were almost too much for a two year old.
Ellie took a deep breath and tugged on her dad’s hand. Chris stooped down so he could hear. “Daddy,” Ellie said, “that sure is a big bathtub”!
Oh, the wonder of God’s creation seen through the eyes of a child. Before the day was over and Chris, Tori, and Ellie headed home, Ellie had found a new playground. She played in the sand, let the waves splash her legs as she walked along the water’s edge, and, wonder of wonders, picked up seashells washed up to her from the floor of the ocean, almost like a gift.
On the ride home, a tired little girl slept, dreaming of sand, sun, water, seashells, and the day she got to play with her mommy and daddy in God’s big bathtub.
Grams