It occurs to me that when in the midst of a storm, we are acutely aware of the torrential rains and devastating winds. However, when we are watching from a distance, however near or far, we are not able to comprehend the magnitude and intensity of that same storm, the destruction being caused, the scars left behind.
Recently when we visited our daughter in Virginia, there was a nor'easter attacking the coast and a hurricane threatening from the Caribbean. As we stood looking at the ocean, we watched the waves build and break. They were huge and impressive to watch. I tried to document it, but they just looked like waves in the photograph. When we headed home and crossed the bridge over the bay, I made a video of the water tossing and raging. But looking at the video you just see a dreary, rainy day. Unless you were there you can't really understand.
That's the way it is for us when we are relating to hurting people. We can't understand fully the tumultuous, hurling emotions, the pain that causes one's very breath to catch before it ever reaches her lungs, the ache and longing deep in her bones and soul for better days. We can't, unless we've been there.
So, we must speak with love and compassion, if we speak at all. Sometimes a hurting person only needs someone to sit quietly with her in support as the storm rages on. Our words fall empty when spoken just to fill the space. Love is more than that. Love is quiet support. Love is meeting needs when our friend can't even express what she needs. Love is praising God, even when it hurts. Love is being there in the storm.
I'm in a storm right now. Words hurt. They degrade. They sting. They leave a mark. The problem with words is they keep rolling around in your mind like waves attacking the soft beach sand. Persistent, they crash and roar. With every repeat, they wash away a little more of your strength. They erase your confidence. They try to wipe away your solid ground, making you feel like you will slip and fall into the waves, drowning.
You know I always have a song, and Casting Crowns has recorded a beautiful lyric I will share with you at the end. As you listen, think about the storm in two ways. First, as an observer of someone's storm. When a friend, or even an acquaintance, is hurting, don't try to tell her what to do to overcome. Unsolicited advice often only serves to break the wound open and cause the pain to resurface and be dealt with once again. Looking into someone's storm, try to see it with different eyes. Try to see the magnitude of the pain. You can't possibly, but you can try. The second way is as the one caught in the force of the storm. It is simply stated in the song. Praise God. Though your heart is torn, praise Him in the storm. That's the only way to survive.
https://youtu.be/DoqbKyeKOBI
Monday, October 26, 2015
Saturday, September 19, 2015
CONTENTMENT
I love the sounds in my house tonight. As our friends from Haiti and a fellow missionary from Savannah are here, there is a blanket of peaceful contentment settled over us. It's after nine p.m. and the crickets are busy singing their evening song. I hear the soft voices of the women in their native language as they enjoy each other's company while the older fixes the younger's hair. I hear the voices of the American and the Haitian as they discuss ministry and the details of how to get things accomplished for the Haitian people. We all sat around the table eating pizza and cake and ice cream, laughing loudly together as we talked and teased one another.
Friendship is precious. Even when you can't speak the same language. Yesterday my sweet friend, Marie, taught me some secrets of Haitian cooking. I watched and asked a LOT of questions. She let me do a few things, but those special touches needed her skill and practiced knowledge. Three of us, a Haitian mother, her son, and I, chopped and stirred and cleaned and cooked until we had a feast for our family to partake. I learned so much and I can't wait to try out my new skills for my own daughter in just a couple of weeks! Even though we could not converse, Marie was able to show and tell me things that I need to know if I am going to try to make her delicious dishes. I even knew when she asked me for salt! You may not think that's a big deal, but we were in the house alone at the time. Both of us were very excited about that.
I am blessed. So very blessed. To be able to open the door of my home and allow people in is something I don't take for granted. Many people I know won't have food tonight, but we had food and a good time while we ate it. The comforts we have here are opposite to the way of life in Haiti. But the passion for living that my Haitian friends have taught me is lost in the hustle and bustle of my American life. Especially since the earthquake, Haitians are conscious to be aware of the time they spend together with people they love. I have learned from all my international friends that there is always room for one more at the table. My sweet Costa Rican daughter, Catalina, said to me one day, "Miss Vicki, if there is enough (food) for one, there is enough for two." Nahum told me yesterday that when he was growing up, as his mom prepared the food for her family, she would always take some of it to the neighbors or invite people in to sit at her table. Hmmm.
We close ourselves up in our own little private worlds in America. We are too concerned with "what's in it for me?" to even see or know that our neighbor is hurting. Simple everyday acts of kindness and love are often forgotten as we hurry to the next meeting, to the store, to the practice, to get the laundry, to wash the dishes, to collapse in bed and do it all again tomorrow.
My husband and I understand better than anyone. We have many responsibilities that cannot be denied. But we are making an effort to slow down. It's not necessary to keep up with the Joneses, as they say. We are eliminating some of the things that have cluttered up our time so that we now have time to go for a walk, both for health and pleasure. We are spending more time in our own kitchen, at our own table, instead of heading for a restaurant to sit in a noisy room and eat food we really don't even want, and really don't even like. We are enjoying each other and the blessing of opening our home to people we love.
Thank you, Lord, for this place you have given us. Thank you for friends who can come and relax here and, hopefully, feel refreshed when they leave. Thank you for food on the table and a bed in which to sleep. Thank you for loving us and placing such special people in our lives. May we always be willing to allow you to use our home and us. Thank you for the contentment of being in Your presence with these people we love.
Friendship is precious. Even when you can't speak the same language. Yesterday my sweet friend, Marie, taught me some secrets of Haitian cooking. I watched and asked a LOT of questions. She let me do a few things, but those special touches needed her skill and practiced knowledge. Three of us, a Haitian mother, her son, and I, chopped and stirred and cleaned and cooked until we had a feast for our family to partake. I learned so much and I can't wait to try out my new skills for my own daughter in just a couple of weeks! Even though we could not converse, Marie was able to show and tell me things that I need to know if I am going to try to make her delicious dishes. I even knew when she asked me for salt! You may not think that's a big deal, but we were in the house alone at the time. Both of us were very excited about that.
I am blessed. So very blessed. To be able to open the door of my home and allow people in is something I don't take for granted. Many people I know won't have food tonight, but we had food and a good time while we ate it. The comforts we have here are opposite to the way of life in Haiti. But the passion for living that my Haitian friends have taught me is lost in the hustle and bustle of my American life. Especially since the earthquake, Haitians are conscious to be aware of the time they spend together with people they love. I have learned from all my international friends that there is always room for one more at the table. My sweet Costa Rican daughter, Catalina, said to me one day, "Miss Vicki, if there is enough (food) for one, there is enough for two." Nahum told me yesterday that when he was growing up, as his mom prepared the food for her family, she would always take some of it to the neighbors or invite people in to sit at her table. Hmmm.
We close ourselves up in our own little private worlds in America. We are too concerned with "what's in it for me?" to even see or know that our neighbor is hurting. Simple everyday acts of kindness and love are often forgotten as we hurry to the next meeting, to the store, to the practice, to get the laundry, to wash the dishes, to collapse in bed and do it all again tomorrow.
My husband and I understand better than anyone. We have many responsibilities that cannot be denied. But we are making an effort to slow down. It's not necessary to keep up with the Joneses, as they say. We are eliminating some of the things that have cluttered up our time so that we now have time to go for a walk, both for health and pleasure. We are spending more time in our own kitchen, at our own table, instead of heading for a restaurant to sit in a noisy room and eat food we really don't even want, and really don't even like. We are enjoying each other and the blessing of opening our home to people we love.
Thank you, Lord, for this place you have given us. Thank you for friends who can come and relax here and, hopefully, feel refreshed when they leave. Thank you for food on the table and a bed in which to sleep. Thank you for loving us and placing such special people in our lives. May we always be willing to allow you to use our home and us. Thank you for the contentment of being in Your presence with these people we love.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Everything You Need to Know...
Today I went back to kindergarten. Since retirement, I have been honored each week to read to the sweet little ones who are just beginning their adventures in education. Who will they be in twelve years? Will they go to college? Will they go to a trade school? Will they push the boundaries and create new and important inventions or therapies or medicines? Will they become politicians? Nurses? Teachers? Will they travel and explore this earth or stay close to home? They have more potential than they could possibly dream. We must encourage them and offer them every opportunity to learn as much as they can. Starting with sitting still to listen to a story.
Their little faces tell more tales than we sometimes want to hear. The pain and fear of what happens at home. The sorrow of loss one so little should never have to bear. The fact that they know more about life's horrors than they should. But you also see the joy. The joy of learning. Of making new friends. Of excitement because something new is happening today (like having a lady come read to you). Of knowing someone believes you can do it.
I stood in the hall as a first grade class passed and saw some of the faces I read to last year. They smiled at me and said, "Hi!" One boy said, "Hey! You made us thunder cake!" Yes, yes I did. I will tell you, it was without doubt the worst cake I have ever made in my life! But those kindergarteners ate it up and loved it! I'm happy to be a good memory for them.
I want to share with you something that happened today. I didn't see it, but I experienced the story from the parapro who was in the room. They got a new student today. He was scared and wanted his mommy. As his teachers worked their magic to help him adjust to this strange new world that had been thrust upon him, it was the kids who reached him. One little girl went and sat beside him. Another little one brought him a tissue. One by one they introduced themselves to him and told him it would be ok. One child said, "Our mommies always come back." One asked, "Can I sit beside him at lunch?" Those children, who have only been in kindergarten for a few days themselves, loved and cared and supported their new friend in ways no adult could. He relaxed and I'm sure by the end of the day he had many new friends to tell about when he got home.
As that story was told we all got teary-eyed. The innocence of a child's heart is a beautiful thing. We forget as we grow older that the simplest thing a person needs is a kind word and the offer of friendship.
It's true. Everything you need to know you learn in kindergarten. This is what they taught me today: Listen when someone is speaking to you. Use your manners. Be grateful and say so. Offer a smile and a memory when you see someone you haven't seen in a while. Encourage someone who is afraid. Offer a tissue. Enjoy the thrill of a good book. Follow the rules. Be kind. And most of all, love your friends.
Their little faces tell more tales than we sometimes want to hear. The pain and fear of what happens at home. The sorrow of loss one so little should never have to bear. The fact that they know more about life's horrors than they should. But you also see the joy. The joy of learning. Of making new friends. Of excitement because something new is happening today (like having a lady come read to you). Of knowing someone believes you can do it.
I stood in the hall as a first grade class passed and saw some of the faces I read to last year. They smiled at me and said, "Hi!" One boy said, "Hey! You made us thunder cake!" Yes, yes I did. I will tell you, it was without doubt the worst cake I have ever made in my life! But those kindergarteners ate it up and loved it! I'm happy to be a good memory for them.
I want to share with you something that happened today. I didn't see it, but I experienced the story from the parapro who was in the room. They got a new student today. He was scared and wanted his mommy. As his teachers worked their magic to help him adjust to this strange new world that had been thrust upon him, it was the kids who reached him. One little girl went and sat beside him. Another little one brought him a tissue. One by one they introduced themselves to him and told him it would be ok. One child said, "Our mommies always come back." One asked, "Can I sit beside him at lunch?" Those children, who have only been in kindergarten for a few days themselves, loved and cared and supported their new friend in ways no adult could. He relaxed and I'm sure by the end of the day he had many new friends to tell about when he got home.
As that story was told we all got teary-eyed. The innocence of a child's heart is a beautiful thing. We forget as we grow older that the simplest thing a person needs is a kind word and the offer of friendship.
It's true. Everything you need to know you learn in kindergarten. This is what they taught me today: Listen when someone is speaking to you. Use your manners. Be grateful and say so. Offer a smile and a memory when you see someone you haven't seen in a while. Encourage someone who is afraid. Offer a tissue. Enjoy the thrill of a good book. Follow the rules. Be kind. And most of all, love your friends.
Monday, August 3, 2015
Twenty-seven Years Later
The pains began to come like they described in class. Timing them, the excitement grew. Back then rich people had car phones. Personal cell phones and instant contact were unheard of. I don't really remember how I got word to my husband. I was in labor. It was time for him to come get me and take me to the hospital.
When you are expecting your first child and are waiting for your ride to the hospital, time seems to creep along. It sure did that afternoon. He couldn't get home. There was a traffic jam on the interstate and he had to drive down the emergency lane to get past it. It seemed like hours went by before he finally got home. I tried not to be upset.
There really wasn't any drama. Until we got to the hospital.
We are pretty level-headed people, my husband and I. We don't get upset or cause scenes. We are logical thinkers. So, when my nurse couldn't find a heartbeat with the first monitor, we didn't get alarmed. Until about the third machine she tried. Then we began to wonder. But when she said, "I need to call your doctor," we got scared. Can I stop here to brag on God just a little?
You ladies know that after you have seen a few ultrasound screens, you can tell a little bit about what you are seeing. Well! That night when my nurse used the ultrasound machine to check for a heartbeat, God blinded me in a way. Everything on the screen looked blurry and confusing. I couldn't make out anything that looked like anything I had ever seen before. I thought I saw an eyeball. My sweet nurse later told me that what I had seen was a still heart.
Anyway, I will never, ever, ever forget my dear doctor turning to me after he had looked at that same screen, putting his hand on my knee, and saying, "Vicki, I don't know what went wrong, but we have lost this baby." Even as I typed that, my heart skipped a beat and my breath caught in my throat. My baby was gone.
I don't write this for you to feel sorry for me. I write to tell you about God. He's just AWESOME! Here are some ways He showed up for us:
The first thing I want you to notice is what my doctor said. "We." From the very first I was constantly reminded that we were not alone. Turns out, my doctor's wife had lost their first baby in a similar manner. So, he had compassion and empathy that no one else could. He came in on his off day, when he should have been playing golf, to sit with us and talk. He cared that much.
My sweet nurse had empathy too. She stayed late that night to talk with my husband and explain things to him that were quickly going to happen and decisions we were going to have to make. You don't come to the hospital to have a baby prepared to make a decision about which funeral home to call and make funeral and burial arrangements. She had personal experience and she stayed to love on us when she was exhausted from her busy day.
I was so sick. Had been for nine months. It was the same with both of my girls. Sick, sick, sick...even in delivery. By the time I was ready to deliver, there was no one else in the unit. So there were a lot of people with nothing to do. I remember them being around and hearing them say, "Bless her heart," while I was throwing up on the delivery table. I remember that everyone was focused on helping me. I remember them making sure my husband and I were ok. I remember the caring yet sad looks on their faces.
And the quiet of the room. No cries. Except for ours. No high-fives. No congratulations. In the recovery room they brought her to me. She was perfect. I never held her. I couldn't. I did not want to spend the rest of my life remembering the heaviness of her in my arms. I didn't know they had made pictures for me. Later they gave us an envelope and said, "Don't open it now. Keep this for when you are ready. Don't throw it away." Those pictures are such a treasure!
We cried a lot over the next few days. My husband was my champion. He planned the funeral. My mom and dad went to get a beautiful white gown for her to be buried in and took it to the funeral home. And when I cried because I didn't get to see it (the casket would be closed), they drove to the funeral home to get it and bring it to me and took it back again. We had a graveside service with just our family...our big family, including aunts, uncles, and cousins. Then it was all over and we were at home.
Without our baby.
But God. Oh, God was so good! He has taken that horrible experience and shown himself over and over and over again. We survived and had another perfect baby girl a year and a half later. When she was born I said, "She looks just like her sister!" (Except for the little dimple in her chin.) We have been honored to sit with other parents who were thrown into the same stormy sea. I have had so many people say to me, "I was there that night." Those people whom I never really saw but was aware of. They watched. And they were touched by the faith they saw in us. You see, as we held each other and cried, they watched. As we prayed and asked God why, they listened. As we grieved and mourned, they saw how God comforted us. They saw the peace that flooded my room and our souls. God made his presence known to so many.
I'll never forget the day when a friend I hadn't seen in a while looked at her teen daughter and said, "This is the lady who had the baby I named you after." My experience was in August, and in February this beautiful young lady came into our lives. Her mom probably doesn't know, but when they called to tell me she was born, I sat in the floor and ummm, shall we just say, had a long and emotional talk with the Lord about the fairness of it all. I remember her asking if I cared if she used a name, but I never knew why. They will never know how touched I was to hear that she was named after my child.
Funny story and confession time. That same friend walked with me through this horror while she was pregnant. I'm sure that was hard on her. One day we were in a fabric store to buy fabric for her to make the curtains for her nursery. It was maybe four or five weeks after the funeral. When the older lady was measuring and cutting her fabric, she innocently looked at me and asked when I was going to have children. I guess it hit me wrong. I confess I didn't show much Jesus at that moment. I looked at that poor lady and said, "I just did. She died." Oh dear! My friend looked at me and gasped. I really couldn't believe I said it. But, just in case you had the mistaken impression that I handled it all perfectly, I wanted to tell you that.
It's been twenty-seven years. Sometimes it's almost unreal. Sometimes it's too real. Through it I learned that God will never leave you or forsake you. When things are harder than you ever imagine they could be, he is stronger.
I don't know why, but this year I was driven to share. So, my friend whoever you are, if you are reading this and going through or are remembering that most difficult day in your life, please let me encourage you to lean on the Lord. He is there. He will carry you through. There is nothing too big for him.
When you are expecting your first child and are waiting for your ride to the hospital, time seems to creep along. It sure did that afternoon. He couldn't get home. There was a traffic jam on the interstate and he had to drive down the emergency lane to get past it. It seemed like hours went by before he finally got home. I tried not to be upset.
There really wasn't any drama. Until we got to the hospital.
We are pretty level-headed people, my husband and I. We don't get upset or cause scenes. We are logical thinkers. So, when my nurse couldn't find a heartbeat with the first monitor, we didn't get alarmed. Until about the third machine she tried. Then we began to wonder. But when she said, "I need to call your doctor," we got scared. Can I stop here to brag on God just a little?
You ladies know that after you have seen a few ultrasound screens, you can tell a little bit about what you are seeing. Well! That night when my nurse used the ultrasound machine to check for a heartbeat, God blinded me in a way. Everything on the screen looked blurry and confusing. I couldn't make out anything that looked like anything I had ever seen before. I thought I saw an eyeball. My sweet nurse later told me that what I had seen was a still heart.
Anyway, I will never, ever, ever forget my dear doctor turning to me after he had looked at that same screen, putting his hand on my knee, and saying, "Vicki, I don't know what went wrong, but we have lost this baby." Even as I typed that, my heart skipped a beat and my breath caught in my throat. My baby was gone.
I don't write this for you to feel sorry for me. I write to tell you about God. He's just AWESOME! Here are some ways He showed up for us:
The first thing I want you to notice is what my doctor said. "We." From the very first I was constantly reminded that we were not alone. Turns out, my doctor's wife had lost their first baby in a similar manner. So, he had compassion and empathy that no one else could. He came in on his off day, when he should have been playing golf, to sit with us and talk. He cared that much.
My sweet nurse had empathy too. She stayed late that night to talk with my husband and explain things to him that were quickly going to happen and decisions we were going to have to make. You don't come to the hospital to have a baby prepared to make a decision about which funeral home to call and make funeral and burial arrangements. She had personal experience and she stayed to love on us when she was exhausted from her busy day.
I was so sick. Had been for nine months. It was the same with both of my girls. Sick, sick, sick...even in delivery. By the time I was ready to deliver, there was no one else in the unit. So there were a lot of people with nothing to do. I remember them being around and hearing them say, "Bless her heart," while I was throwing up on the delivery table. I remember that everyone was focused on helping me. I remember them making sure my husband and I were ok. I remember the caring yet sad looks on their faces.
And the quiet of the room. No cries. Except for ours. No high-fives. No congratulations. In the recovery room they brought her to me. She was perfect. I never held her. I couldn't. I did not want to spend the rest of my life remembering the heaviness of her in my arms. I didn't know they had made pictures for me. Later they gave us an envelope and said, "Don't open it now. Keep this for when you are ready. Don't throw it away." Those pictures are such a treasure!
We cried a lot over the next few days. My husband was my champion. He planned the funeral. My mom and dad went to get a beautiful white gown for her to be buried in and took it to the funeral home. And when I cried because I didn't get to see it (the casket would be closed), they drove to the funeral home to get it and bring it to me and took it back again. We had a graveside service with just our family...our big family, including aunts, uncles, and cousins. Then it was all over and we were at home.
Without our baby.
But God. Oh, God was so good! He has taken that horrible experience and shown himself over and over and over again. We survived and had another perfect baby girl a year and a half later. When she was born I said, "She looks just like her sister!" (Except for the little dimple in her chin.) We have been honored to sit with other parents who were thrown into the same stormy sea. I have had so many people say to me, "I was there that night." Those people whom I never really saw but was aware of. They watched. And they were touched by the faith they saw in us. You see, as we held each other and cried, they watched. As we prayed and asked God why, they listened. As we grieved and mourned, they saw how God comforted us. They saw the peace that flooded my room and our souls. God made his presence known to so many.
I'll never forget the day when a friend I hadn't seen in a while looked at her teen daughter and said, "This is the lady who had the baby I named you after." My experience was in August, and in February this beautiful young lady came into our lives. Her mom probably doesn't know, but when they called to tell me she was born, I sat in the floor and ummm, shall we just say, had a long and emotional talk with the Lord about the fairness of it all. I remember her asking if I cared if she used a name, but I never knew why. They will never know how touched I was to hear that she was named after my child.
Funny story and confession time. That same friend walked with me through this horror while she was pregnant. I'm sure that was hard on her. One day we were in a fabric store to buy fabric for her to make the curtains for her nursery. It was maybe four or five weeks after the funeral. When the older lady was measuring and cutting her fabric, she innocently looked at me and asked when I was going to have children. I guess it hit me wrong. I confess I didn't show much Jesus at that moment. I looked at that poor lady and said, "I just did. She died." Oh dear! My friend looked at me and gasped. I really couldn't believe I said it. But, just in case you had the mistaken impression that I handled it all perfectly, I wanted to tell you that.
It's been twenty-seven years. Sometimes it's almost unreal. Sometimes it's too real. Through it I learned that God will never leave you or forsake you. When things are harder than you ever imagine they could be, he is stronger.
I don't know why, but this year I was driven to share. So, my friend whoever you are, if you are reading this and going through or are remembering that most difficult day in your life, please let me encourage you to lean on the Lord. He is there. He will carry you through. There is nothing too big for him.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
The Love of God
They slept on the concrete floor. Only a thin quilt separated their bodies from the cool, hard surface. No pillows. No covers. No air-mattresses. Just a quilt.
We, on the other hand, had air mattresses, bug tents, pillows, sheets, and small personal-sized fans blowing on us.
Each morning we awoke to singing. They were in the room next to us. Their rich, joyful voices united to greet the dawn with a song of praise. Every morning it was the same song. Celebrating the love of God for his precious people. And precious they are.
I've never known anyone who had so little in the way of personal wealth yet so much joy and faith in God. They know what it's like to really depend on God. They know what real hunger is. They know life in a way I never will. They know they can't depend on a job, on self-sufficiency. They know they can only depend on God.
So they sing. And they pray. Oh, do they pray! Passionately they call out to God. Someone said on my most recent trip, "Haitians call out to God. Americans talk to God." Sadly, I would have to say that most often we just give him our list of wants, not even caring that He is aware of our every need. They prayed for me last year. When I couldn't go to them, they prayed and sang over me. I have the video. It's one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received.
For two years I have carried that song in my heart. It brings dear memories of two "older" men (I was a teenager, so they seemed ancient) singing it at church. But hearing the Haitian voices sing it, I fell in love with it. Here are the words:
We, on the other hand, had air mattresses, bug tents, pillows, sheets, and small personal-sized fans blowing on us.
Each morning we awoke to singing. They were in the room next to us. Their rich, joyful voices united to greet the dawn with a song of praise. Every morning it was the same song. Celebrating the love of God for his precious people. And precious they are.
I've never known anyone who had so little in the way of personal wealth yet so much joy and faith in God. They know what it's like to really depend on God. They know what real hunger is. They know life in a way I never will. They know they can't depend on a job, on self-sufficiency. They know they can only depend on God.
So they sing. And they pray. Oh, do they pray! Passionately they call out to God. Someone said on my most recent trip, "Haitians call out to God. Americans talk to God." Sadly, I would have to say that most often we just give him our list of wants, not even caring that He is aware of our every need. They prayed for me last year. When I couldn't go to them, they prayed and sang over me. I have the video. It's one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received.
For two years I have carried that song in my heart. It brings dear memories of two "older" men (I was a teenager, so they seemed ancient) singing it at church. But hearing the Haitian voices sing it, I fell in love with it. Here are the words:
- The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin.- Refrain:
Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
The saints’ and angels’ song.
- Refrain:
- When hoary time shall pass away,
And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
When men who here refuse to pray,
On rocks and hills and mountains call,
God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
All measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
The saints’ and angels’ song. - Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.
Frederick Lehman
1917
Monday, July 13, 2015
Today's Adventure
I want to start with this disclaimer. Catalina, when you read this, don't be upset. This was one of those comical days when nothing went as planned. You should laugh that sweet laugh and say, "Oh, Miss Vicki," as you shake your head in amusement. I can see you doing that even now!
I set out today to conquer a task. Though it's not always easy to do business for someone else, I have volunteered to do this. Catalina was ready to go home. She had been here in America for seven years, away from that house full of brothers and sisters and parents she loves so much. However, she needs her diploma and transcript sent to the Secretary of State of Tennessee to get an apostille so that Costa Rica will recognize all her hard work to earn her master's degree. She was so sweet and left written instructions on what to do. She even left cash to pay the postage! But every time I have read her notes I felt like this task was not going to be as simple as it seemed in writing. I even asked her again via FB last week and she assured me all I need to do is follow her instructions.
The first lesson for the day...don't listen to men. Catalina told me to go to the County Clerk's office. That's what I should have done. Two men in my life, who shall remain nameless, convinced me I should go to the satellite office. So I did. It seemed logical. SEEMED! And, it WOULD be easier to go there if the people there could help me. They couldn't. That is a tag and title office only. Those people couldn't understand the Greek that I was speaking. Understand, I didn't understand the Greek either, I was just repeating what had been written for me to do. I do want to give a cheer to the woman at the counter. Teresa. She made a quick phone call and got the information I needed.
So I headed off to downtown Chattanooga. I convinced my husband to drive me to the courthouse so I wouldn't have to pay for parking. He let me out and I went inside. Through the metal detector and security. Up the stairs. There are only four or five offices on the second floor, so it wasn't hard to find. (Last time I was there was to get my marriage license in 1985!) The young woman asked if she could help me. I laughed and said, "I hope so." Again I recited the Greek instructions and she nodded in understanding. PROGRESS! Then she pulled the diploma from it's sacred case. Looking at it and back at me, she asked, "Who is going to notarize this?" That's what I wanted to know, and she was asking me! She was very sweet and explained her process was only to verify that the notary was an actual notary. That process I understand. That's something that I have done before.
She looked at me and said I could write, "This is an original document," and sign it. Hmmm. Is that acceptable? She didn't know the answer to that. It's logical. But, then again, so was going to that satellite office this morning. I finally said I needed time to think, but I really meant that I needed time to email Catalina for further instructions. I don't want to mess this up for her. It's important.
Here's the summary of today's adventure...Here was my plan when I left home a few minutes after noon....Run get the diploma stamped and then go to Panera for soup and blogging time. (The original blog I planned will come later this week. This is too hilarious to pass up.) After that, Walmart for dishwasher soap and peaches. Then to Staples to pick up a few items I need. Instead, I went somewhere I didn't need to be. To get where I needed to be, I needed to drive on roads I haven't driven down since I quit working downtown thirty years ago. I got dropped off in front of the courthouse expecting my husband to be circling the block when I came back out. Nope. Not on this sunny 92 degree day. He had gone back to the shop! I did manage to find some shade and a breeze to wait in, and I didn't dare complain because I didn't have to pay for parking. Still hadn't had lunch. Took F O R E V E R to get back to East Brainerd and Panera. And, the best part ----- I left my cell phone at home!
How does one survive without her cell phone?? Right now I have finished my baked potato soup and am sipping my green tea with my hubby's dinosaur flip phone lying on the table beside my computer. He gave it to me when we parted ways just in case I needed it. I don't know who all these people are calling him, but he sure is going to have a lot of voicemail to listen to tonight!
Enjoy the adventures of your life, friends! And praise the Lord for another day of livin'!
I set out today to conquer a task. Though it's not always easy to do business for someone else, I have volunteered to do this. Catalina was ready to go home. She had been here in America for seven years, away from that house full of brothers and sisters and parents she loves so much. However, she needs her diploma and transcript sent to the Secretary of State of Tennessee to get an apostille so that Costa Rica will recognize all her hard work to earn her master's degree. She was so sweet and left written instructions on what to do. She even left cash to pay the postage! But every time I have read her notes I felt like this task was not going to be as simple as it seemed in writing. I even asked her again via FB last week and she assured me all I need to do is follow her instructions.
The first lesson for the day...don't listen to men. Catalina told me to go to the County Clerk's office. That's what I should have done. Two men in my life, who shall remain nameless, convinced me I should go to the satellite office. So I did. It seemed logical. SEEMED! And, it WOULD be easier to go there if the people there could help me. They couldn't. That is a tag and title office only. Those people couldn't understand the Greek that I was speaking. Understand, I didn't understand the Greek either, I was just repeating what had been written for me to do. I do want to give a cheer to the woman at the counter. Teresa. She made a quick phone call and got the information I needed.
So I headed off to downtown Chattanooga. I convinced my husband to drive me to the courthouse so I wouldn't have to pay for parking. He let me out and I went inside. Through the metal detector and security. Up the stairs. There are only four or five offices on the second floor, so it wasn't hard to find. (Last time I was there was to get my marriage license in 1985!) The young woman asked if she could help me. I laughed and said, "I hope so." Again I recited the Greek instructions and she nodded in understanding. PROGRESS! Then she pulled the diploma from it's sacred case. Looking at it and back at me, she asked, "Who is going to notarize this?" That's what I wanted to know, and she was asking me! She was very sweet and explained her process was only to verify that the notary was an actual notary. That process I understand. That's something that I have done before.
She looked at me and said I could write, "This is an original document," and sign it. Hmmm. Is that acceptable? She didn't know the answer to that. It's logical. But, then again, so was going to that satellite office this morning. I finally said I needed time to think, but I really meant that I needed time to email Catalina for further instructions. I don't want to mess this up for her. It's important.
Here's the summary of today's adventure...Here was my plan when I left home a few minutes after noon....Run get the diploma stamped and then go to Panera for soup and blogging time. (The original blog I planned will come later this week. This is too hilarious to pass up.) After that, Walmart for dishwasher soap and peaches. Then to Staples to pick up a few items I need. Instead, I went somewhere I didn't need to be. To get where I needed to be, I needed to drive on roads I haven't driven down since I quit working downtown thirty years ago. I got dropped off in front of the courthouse expecting my husband to be circling the block when I came back out. Nope. Not on this sunny 92 degree day. He had gone back to the shop! I did manage to find some shade and a breeze to wait in, and I didn't dare complain because I didn't have to pay for parking. Still hadn't had lunch. Took F O R E V E R to get back to East Brainerd and Panera. And, the best part ----- I left my cell phone at home!
How does one survive without her cell phone?? Right now I have finished my baked potato soup and am sipping my green tea with my hubby's dinosaur flip phone lying on the table beside my computer. He gave it to me when we parted ways just in case I needed it. I don't know who all these people are calling him, but he sure is going to have a lot of voicemail to listen to tonight!
Enjoy the adventures of your life, friends! And praise the Lord for another day of livin'!
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
My Three Favorite Mugs
I have three favorite coffee mugs. All three were gifts, and I am so glad because I probably wouldn't have spent the money to buy them for myself. But, I use them often because they each mean something special. May I share them with you?
This mug is obviously seasonal. I had it tucked away on a top shelf of the kitchen waiting for the right season to use it until one of my kids was home and couldn't find another cup. As the cabinets were opened and the search for something to use for morning coffee began, this one came out. When I was doing dishes later in the morning, picking up cups and plates and forks and glasses and spoons and cramming as much as I could into the dishwasher, I was taken aback to have this mug in my hand. It was seasonally inappropriate. Thanksgiving was long past. Hey, even Valentine's Day had come and gone! I was, quite frankly, appalled.
This mug is obviously seasonal. I had it tucked away on a top shelf of the kitchen waiting for the right season to use it until one of my kids was home and couldn't find another cup. As the cabinets were opened and the search for something to use for morning coffee began, this one came out. When I was doing dishes later in the morning, picking up cups and plates and forks and glasses and spoons and cramming as much as I could into the dishwasher, I was taken aback to have this mug in my hand. It was seasonally inappropriate. Thanksgiving was long past. Hey, even Valentine's Day had come and gone! I was, quite frankly, appalled.
Then I thought, "Why not?" Why not use this mug all year? Am I not thankful for each day of life? Am I not grateful daily for all that God has given me? Family. Home. Friends. Clothes. Hair! Yes. Yes, I am. So now I use this cup frequently, careful to be aware and to be thankful.
The second mug I would like to share with you was a Christmas gift with a gentle reminder.
It says, "Each new day is a gift." How well I know and appreciate that now! I don't think I did when I first received this mug, though. During and after cancer (or any other life-altering event), one has a new appreciation for the breaking of the dawn. I read on a friend's Facebook page just this week: Live today and live it well! uplift, encourage, exalt!
That's my goal. To live each day looking for every adventure that crosses my path and to live it fully and well. I write this blog to uplift and encourage YOU in your own walk with Christ. Praise God he has allowed me to live another day!!
My last mug is just for fun.
This mug reminds me to have a little fun every day. It doesn't relate to a specific season, nor does it convey any words of wisdom. When I was young my mother too me to see Mary Poppins. I remember the song, "I Love to Laugh," and how I have enjoyed that song throughout the years. I DO love to laugh. I look for the humor in life. Laughter is good for the soul. So, when I use this mug I remember to find something in my day to laugh about and enjoy.
All this has made me realize it is mid-afternoon and time for a coffee-break! Before I close, I want to remind you to be thankful, celebrate each new day the Lord give you, and find something to laugh about!
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