Reflections on Being a Grandmother, Again

We welcomed our sixth grandchild into our hearts the other day – and have enjoyed hearing all the congratulatory wishes, mindful that they and their parents have been the richest blessing either of us have ever received.

Babies are such a nice way to start people. ~Don Herrold

Smarter, wiser women than I have commented on this unique station in life – but this observation comes closest:

Being a mother and grandmother is the best of the best in my life. My grandchildren multiply the joy my [son and daughter] bring me. (Alexandra Stoddard)

 I recognize the emotion I feel for each little life when our kids put them in my arms – it is similar to the delight I felt when I first held them – but altogether different. The feeling is even more wonderful, humbling and bittersweet  . . . for I am holding the greatest agent for change in our own children’s lives.   

Few things are more delightful than grandchildren fighting over your lap. ~Doug Larson

Failure . . .

is hardly an upbeat word. Nothing good attends it – it’s depressing, demoralizing, and hard to recommend as an exercise worth embracing.   But Marie-Helene Bertino’s title, Failure As Muse, intrigued me; reading it invigorated me -- making me want to fail just because failure means at least I am trying.

A writer, above all else, has to cultivate a stubborn, impenetrable tenacity that listens to no earthly reason . . . Only when you neutralize the fear of failure can you have some real fun. “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter,” Samuel Beckett said, “Try Again. Fail Again. Fail better.” I’ll do you one better than that, Sam. Fail Spectacularly. Fail Bester. Is “bester” a word? No matter. 

So, fear of failure is not a reason for sidelining myself.  Fail I might, lose I do --  At least I was in the game, right?

For several weeks I have been trying to write an honest review of book whose title also intrigued me: Extravagant Grace: God’s Glory Displayed in Our Weakness,  by Barbara R. Duguid.  Marie-Helene Bertino’s piece on failure goaded me into discussing it, for it summed up why Extravagant Grace is both uplifting and convicting.  Christians can’t out-fail God’s plan for our lives, though “losers” we may surely seem to be.

The cup of cold water that refreshed me so was Barbara’s urging the reason for my hope – God is at work, in my doubts, fears and failures. My ups and downs are never a reflection of His feelings to me. They cannot change. (Extravagant Grace, p. 153) She states plainly,  “He is always at work in you, with or without your cooperation or permission, shaping you according to His will and his agenda.” (p. 106)

The conundrums of faith in Christ include: one,  being made a new creature, yet caught up in a wrestling match with my old self, that ain’t over ‘till it’s over. Another is that God is my trainer, encourager, referee and will fight for me when I can’t – or won’t.  I hate wrestling, by the way; so, the comparison of getting down and dirty with the monstrous me my old nature is, repulses me. And frankly, I get exasperated with myself, disappointed in the church and freaked by the world.  I want to quit the ring!

Marie-Helene Bertino urged discouraged writers, “Try Again. Fail Again. Fail better.” And, the author  Barbara Duguid reminds weary Christians that though,   “I will sin [fail to meet God’s mark] no matter what pathway God leads me down . . . but, my confidence and hope is his grace is greater than all my sin.  It is an unshackling from a relentless counting of wrongs, and takes away excuses for not moving into whatever God has decided is next for me.” (p. 199)
 

 “. . . at this very moment, you are exactly as holy and mature in your faith as God wants you to be. He cannot be disappointed in you or surprised by   you, if he is controlling the entire process of growth from start to finish. ”  (Emphasis added)(p. 48) 

So, “Try Again. Fail Again. Fail better.”


The wonder is an infinite, personal God is weaning us, like a mother weans her child, “ . . . from leaning to any supposed wisdom, power, or goodness in themselves; they feel the truth of our Lord’s words, ‘Without me you can do nothing.’” (P. 61)


 What part of “nothing” don’t I get?


Sovereign Lord is a wide description of a deep concept.   So, too is grace.

•  “God is not in heaven wondering how we will behave and how we will respond to temptation. He is governing every circumstance for our growth and benefit.” (p. 211) Though [my sin] can shatter [my] peace and joy, it can never separate [me] from God or pluck [me] from his heart or hand.  (p. 213)
•  None of us are saved by the correctness of our actions, opinions or  conclusions about sanctifying grace – we are saved by grace through faith that Christ died for us, while we were yet sinners. “But there is a day coming  when we all be perfect and complete and in wonderful agreement. Nothing can prevent that from happening.” (p. 227)

The questions at the conclusion of each chapter helped me dig up unproductive habits, hang-ups and hurts; they are a helpful framework for a spiritual inventory – a good tool for understanding how some things can go so wrong. Answering these questions confirms my stubborn attachment to sin – a costly and painful predilection that cannot defeat the love of God for His children. Though it can become a powerful weapon in Satan’s hands (pp. 165-164), and I will wound more than myself!  My poor understanding of God’s extravagant grace hurts many I love, especially my kids. (p. 170)

The good news of the gospel is precisely what gives us the courage to be honest about our sin without being undone by it . . . when we grasp the  gospel, we do not need to be afraid of what we find in our hearts [or others']  for God’s grace is far greater than all our sin. (pp 175-176)

Only when you neutralize the fear of failure can you have some real fun.  

 WORLD's Review

Reporting on Week #1

Memories of people, places and things continue to spring up on our vacation to Maryland. Annapolis’ changes are even more obvious in the warm weather than they were at Christmas. *

When our son and his family came for a visit, we walked around downtown Annapolis, re-visiting spots where we once strolled, often during the  “children’s hour.”  Around four o’clock, back then, if things got dicey on the home-front, we bundled up and headed out for a quick visit to the State House lawn; we hopped aboard the cannon and rode out the craziness. Or, we walked up and down Main Street, popping into Rookie's for a few groceries to carry home for dinner.

In the 1980’s, when we lived here, Annapolis was still a small town with shops and businesses that served families first, and then tourists who liked architecture, sailing, and quaintness.  Now, sidewalk vendors, bars and outdoor restaurants abound, spilling over onto sidewalks – aimed at tourists, impeding those who want to meander with a small child and while away a few moments, enjoying the views.   

Now, as we jostled our way along West Street – experiencing all the changes that come with upscale retail, I will stipulate the little mom & pop stores never looked as good back then, as they do in my memories.  We pressed on. Wending our way to the left on Church Circle, we discovered the campus at St. John's College was empty of weekend revelers and its students. It has enjoyed a decidedly elegant renovation since our son scampered up and down its brick walks.  Watching him and his wife now stroll with his son, it was a happy flashback to some walks with him and his sister. 

Heading back to our vacation apartment, I could see how formerly modest homes have been renovated, catering to the tastes of those who can afford all the new restaurants, bars and boutiques.  Our old home now hidden among lush foliage overhanging a deep-water pier, looks very high-rent.  

Our Old Home

And what was once a rough row of old houses by a hospital-parking garage had been transformed into a tidy waterfront park for children and parents who might no longer enjoy wandering about downtown Annapolis.

The more things change, the more they change.  :0)

o   Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom. ~Marcel Proust

o   Don't let yesterday use up too much of today. ~Cherokee Indian Proverb

o   What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now. ~Author Unknown

*Strolling Down Memory Lane

*Christmas in Annapolis

Grandchildren in the Garden!

Duct Designs

The best view of our garden now is not the hardy flowers, but the flashes of small people darting here and there, coloring the concrete, creating art with duct tape, and dashing through the sprinklers.

Creating

Art

My Affect on the Weather

Mary Engelbreit 

Last week’s warm weather spurred me to switch out the warm duds with lighter weight apparel. Within 36 hours, the weather took toke note of the change, and temperatures plunged 20+ degrees – in fact, a freeze is forecast for points north of Dallas. It’s never my intention to bring cold weather back, yet seemingly without fail, when I fiddle about in the closets – the temperatures plummet or rise, depending on the season.

Am I a woman of influence or what?

Hardly.

The influence I wielded was not chilling the hopes of those longing for spring – but bringing order and comfort into my own life – and a visual reminder I still am the princess of quite a lot.

So, what am I doing today with so much?  First, remembering that the moments of this day though dressed in chilly gray are mine to spend – many folks do not have this freedom. Second, forbearance and compassion that I offer may be that cup of cold water somebody close to me needs. And third, what I have is only on loan.   

·      The time will come when winter will ask you what you were doing all summer. 

     ~Henry Clay

·      What is right is often forgotten by what is convenient.  

    ~Bodie Thoene, Warsaw Requiem

It’s Holy Week – a big celebration on the church calendar, remembering God’s unique gift.  It’s a good time to make the spiritual truth of new life concrete* – People close by and far away may need just a little help –along with cold water. Maybe it’s time to give: gently used clothing, household goods, children’s games, our time, or our time and money. 

Here a few links that might revive our passion for giving and our determination to manage our resources wisely:

·      WORLD VISION

·      Samaritan’s Purse  

·      The Salvation Army

*Energizing Our Easter Baskets

Gray Days & Gratitude

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Autumn's Yet to Be Spring Garden

From this corner of the garden – literally and metaphorically – it’s a gray day.  No matter that in that respite I was able to clean up the scraggly remains of last autumn’s additions to the garden – I am grumpy because I can’t put in all the colorful annuals that herald a Texas spring, since a sudden frost remains a distinct possibility until late March.   Forget the blessed memory of the past few days of weather that was sunny & seventy; today is gray – somewhat oppressive – capturing perfectly my heart’s malaise. 

I am bewildered by the losses sustained by some friends, and the trials that others endure, especially the unimaginable burdens a young boy bears in a hospital bed in Maryland.   And the news headlines are as worrisome and perplexing as ever.  Looking back over three years of blog posts – news still takes a toll on the spirit and baffles the mind. 

If I can't plow up flowerbeds, then I'll dig around to find what others are thinking about hard times. 

 

Philip Yancy repeated a joke going around Sarajevo in their nightmare years that sums up this “new normal” that too many loved ones now have:

“Do you know the difference between an optimist and a pessimist? 

A pessimist says, ‘Oh dear, thing’s can’t possibly get any worse.’ An optimist says, “Don’t be so sad. Things always get worse.”

In sum, I avoid trying to answer the Why? question because any attempt will inevitably fall short and may even rub salt in an open wound. As Jesus’ followers, we can instead offer a loving and sympathetic presence that may bind wounds and heal a broken heart. . .
  . . . As a counterbalance to the list of seven deadly sins, the church in the Middle Ages came up with a list of seven works of mercy: to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, house the homeless, visit the sick, ransom the captives, bury the dead . . .

. . . not all of us can serve on the front lines of mercy . . . I . . . came up with an additional list of spiritual works of mercy: to instruct the ignorant, counsel the doubtful, admonish sinners, bear wrongs patiently, forgive offences willingly, comfort the afflicted, pray for the living and the dead. (Philip Yancey, The Question That Never Goes Away. pages 47,40, 41)

So, if Mr. Yancey is right, I see that I am never without something to do in the midst of heartache or upheaval."Gray" still has a good deal of light in it.

On this gray day then, I need to turn from what I can’t change, and change what I can; I will soak in the comforting, convicting counsel from Dr. Tony Evans:

You may think you don't have everything you want, but God expects you to be grateful for what you have.

Hmmmmm:

·      I have a yard, with flowerbeds that are ready to be planted, when the weather permits, and I have time to pray.

·      Today, I have the health to hope for gardening chores, and time to pray.

·      I live in a country that remains the inspiration of people fighting tyrannies more grim than ever, and the freedom to pray.

And I managed to get a sweet arrangement of hearty winter pansies to remind me: It ain’t over yet.  If it were all bright and sunny and hot – the pansies would shrivel up.

Summer’s Passing

I didn’t get the great American novel finished, or started. Nor did I leave myself without projects for the fall and coming winter. 

Summer 2013’s concluding moments approach – three days or three weeks, depending how I reckon it. It began in the aftermath of a terrorist bombing in Boston, and amidst a stunt – walking across the Grand Canyon.  Being with our kids and their little ones was the delight of this season – a bout with pneumonia, its weeds.  

An Inheritance?

Regrettably, I fell behind in one project that is a big job – one that I self- assigned: completing journals for the grandkids. My friend Lynette gave me the idea – and have composed many thoughts, prayers and ideas for each, but too many remain unwritten.

Good people leave an inheritance to their grandchildren . . . (Proverbs 13:22; Isaiah 59:21)

Ann Voskamp explained why such a journal may lend a hand to grandchild reading my humble thoughts decades after they crossed my heart:

. . . I write for the woman who wants to unwrap her life again, for the man who wants to reorient again, for the boy on the brink of leaving again, to remind him of Whose he is and the one love story that will always save him. . . (When You’ve Messed Up 1,000 Things  )

So, I went back to those journals this morning – took a picture of the assignment thus far, and hope that one day each colorful copybook finds it way into the hands of these dear human beings who have an anchor into my heart.

Getting and Using A Playbook

We saw Silver Linings Playbook in the theatre Friday night. There is much to commend the movie: excellent acting, and a fine script with believable conversations, and first-rate photography.  As the story unfolds and introduces Pat, his family, friends and then Tiffany, the film shows where more and more people seem to be camping – between profanity and insanity. Every character is in a difficult spot because of circumstances they did not ask for – or choices they unwisely made.  They have been hurt and they hurt others. And just about every one drops the F-bomb constantly – except the mom.

Its title describes how the main character, Pat, regains his mental health after a psychiatric breakdown, and in the midst of a dysfunction family and community.  His therapist urges him to develop a strategy to overcome the crazy anger when it erupts – and take his meds -- although the meds contribute their own roadblocks to his recovery, bringing him down and contributing to weight gain.

Get a plan, work it and take your meds – Good advice.  Because, as Pat reflects:

The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday. That's guaranteed. I can't begin to explain that. Or the craziness inside myself and everyone else . . .

Never have I heard a better bottom line of the truth we rarely see coming.

And yet, the same character Pat comes to love Sunday:

But guess what? Sunday's my favorite day again. I think of what everyone did for me, and I feel like a very lucky guy.

How he comes to feel so lucky is plot of this multi Oscar-nonimated film. The movie shows how getting a plan, working it, and taking meds can make a difference, especially when two characters, Pat and Tiffany were able to care more about others than themselves. So did using a mantra, “Excelsior”  -- which I learned means forever upward in Latin. We could all use a page or two from this playbook!

But nobody looks upward very much in the movie.  

God was given a cameo appearance, as the cliché portrait of Christ on a dingy wall in Pat’s parents’ home and later in their gaudy Nativity lawn decoration. 

What difference would God have made to any of the characters?

Christians meet people like Pat and Tiffany and their parents everyday – We are people like Pat and Tiffany and their parents!

The crazier things get, the harder it seems to tell myself that God is – and He cares.  And it is a question worth asking: Where was God when

·      Pat’s wife cuckolded him?  

·      Pat nearly beat the adulterer to death?

·      Pat’s dad blew his parenting responsibilities? 

·      Tiffany’s husband died and she made so many bad choices?

If He let these things happen, what’s in store for me? What difference does God make to us when our hearts break – I think that’s people want to know. 

Pat said life will break your heart – Christ said in this world you will have tribulation.

Pat was told to get a playbook, make a plan, and work it. Christ said He is the playbook  -- and the plan. (John 16:33) Pat said Sunday was a gain a great day when he thought about what everybody did for him. Christ commended the one healed leper who came back to say thanks. (Luke 17:11-17)

Practicing an attitude of gratitude may sound as clichéd as that portrait of Christ looked – but it is high up in my playbook. It isn’t second nature, any more than Pat’s learning to filter his words and choose to be a stand-up guy were his natural bent.

Using my playbook is better than telling you about it. Looking upward to God, and looking beyond myself shows how well I understand the plan.

A reminder from a friend that came recently in my email includes a timely prayer and a promise:

O Lord, who lends me life, lend me a heart replete with thankfulness.
--- William Shakespeare

THOUGHT FOR TODAY:  When I take the time to make a gratitude list, I invariably feel better.

 Photo Source

 

It's Monday

Summer is sending her calling card: though her formal arrival is a few days off, today the forecast is for triple digits – but a persistent breeze keeps the mosquitoes from lighting.

Our porch remains a favorite perch from which I can survey the early morning. Its calm is sometimes broken by noise of traffic and bi-weekly garbage trucks that rumble through the adjoining alley.  I can see its top as it pauses, and then I wondered about the men who man it.  What would (my) life be like if he were not there – or if the soul(s) who organized its collection and dispatch had not imagined its management?  (More info)  

Mornings on the porch are a good time to recall how large my debts are to so many people. But, with these recollections comes the awareness how limited is my ability to repay the debt. 

So, I opened the gate and thanked the young worker – I think we both surprised each other.   

·      We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude. (~Cynthia Ozick)

·      Silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone.  (~ G.B. Stern) 

No, this is not the best of all possible worlds.   But today, so far, this is a wide place in worrisome times. Today the heat index will be high  -- perhaps reaching 110 degrees. Another Texas summer is arriving. God willing I will enjoy eight to ten more weeks of such blasts.  Whew.

And God willing, I will remember innumerable kindnesses and comforts, and open my mouth in praise for the God who sees, hears, loves and rules.  (Isaiah 53)

·      There is no such thing as gratitude unexpressed.  If it is unexpressed, it is plain, old-fashioned ingratitude.  (~ Robert Brault ) 

So Simple a Child Could Do It

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Unfortunately, Doug and I have no [little] children readily available, and returning to one’s second childhood doesn’t count when changing the water filter on the refridge.

Now, I have done this once or twice before – and I understood the instructions. But I must have been slightly off center when I shoved the canister of chemicals to remove the chemicals in Dallas’ water supply – for the filter only went so far and no further. Then the cap popped off. Doug reattached the cap, but even he could not wiggle or cajole the mechanism.  Thankfully, a grown-up plumber is on his way.

What’s the connection to my gardening lessons?

Often I need a fresh filter, purifying my attitudes, words, and deeds, for I am doing the wrong thing – or saying something poorly – or feeling toxic. Fretting is the most noxious of my emotions that can distort what I want to do or say.  Fretting proliferates when I am hungry, angry, lonely or tired, and ignore the acronym, HALT! 

Do not become hungry, angry lonely or tired. (AA Slogans)

I’ve known these instructions for decades, but I can still get jammed up and as impossible to budge as that filtration cylinder. So, I must call for help.

Turning to The Daily Walk Bible reading for today, June 8, five psalms are suggested, Psalms 37 through 41. The sum is number my blessings and my days. “Instead of worrying about things we cannot change, David exhorts us to concentrate on attitudes we can change.” (TDWB, page 592) 

Here goes:

·      I have a helpful hubby – who is not afraid of a cranky appliance, or wife.

·      We have a plumber who is willing to come today.

·      We have a refrigerator!

·      I have a program whose principles work when I work them. 

·      I have a higher power who listens to my cries. (Psalm 40:1-5)

I wonder what is keeping that plumber . . .

 An Update: The plumber arrived -- and used a large wrench to disengage the canister, which I inserted slightly skewed.  A costly tutorial, but I am grateful.

Purposeful Packing

Good packing requires adept projection, confidence that the destination has laundry capability and drugstores, and a willingness to wear (unsoiled) clothes more than once.   Such packing is an art form I’ve never mastered – although I have improved.  Unfortunately, unpacking in Maryland, I realized I packed too much of some items and forgot one or two essentials. Unpacking now in Texas, I see clearly I overestimated the time I could have had to read, wear dress slacks and put on make-up – and I forgot my daughter does have a washing machine and dryer that is operational 24/7!   

When I arrived in Maryland two weeks ago, I arrived with a new suitcase held together with packing tape. One zipper on an outside compartment failed as I stuffed in a pair of shoes; its twin failed in the check-in line at Southwest at Love Field, temperature 95 degrees, when I wanted to added just one little old shift. Clearly, I added one item too many. But it was not over limit. However on the return trip, the replacement lighter weight suitcase weighed three pounds over the 50 pound limit, and for that I paid a whopping $50!

Go figure – so much for agreeing to put all the dirty clothes in my bag.  

We had ten days caring for our grandchildren – and these days flashed by with hugs, giggles, a few tears – and grubby faces, feet and fingers.  I didn’t pack enough get-up-and-go, and clearly ran out of strength.   But, friends of the family stepped up and provided hands-on help – and their kindness gave welcome breathing space and loving diversions when longing for mommy and daddy threatened tiny hearts. 

And I came home with way more than three pounds of love, joy and delight.  To see the loving bonds between our kids and their kids is a weighty treasure, and have any part in the happy milieu of both families is glorious!  I am so glad that can’t be measured – or taxed!   

Memorial Day 2012

 

For love of country they accepted death ...  ~James A. Garfield

I first knew this day as a marker – the beginning of summer. I did not understand the debt our nation owed to its soldiers for many decades. Until the cost of war became personal, I never knew how inadequate my power was to repay those who fought for me and mine. 

While I grew up steeped in an awareness of the Civil War –  its cost was never personal until Ken Burns chronicled the cost through photographs and letters in his series, “The Civil War.” Battles like Antietam – the starting point of our Memorial Day celebrations, racked up unimaginable costs to the soldiers and citizens.  

The first time war became personal was Vietnam – the television news and journalists, most who opposed the war, shaped my opinions.  I never counted the cost to the soldiers.  That changed when I saw pictures of Vietnam vets so callously treated by the citizens they served.  One Memorial Day I watched the movie  “The Hanoi Hilton.”  I saw how much so few endured because they served.

A documentary in the early 1970’s The World at War, connected many facts I knew about WWII while showing how so many soldiers did so much – suffered so much, and how civilians suffered. So, too, moving to Annapolis refined my appreciation of a deepening debt to men and women who served – the USNA is a study in contrasts: the nobility of those who serve, and the horrors of the battles into which they go.   

Now, I understand this national holiday as a different kind of marker – this is what freedom costs. War is hell. (William Tecumseh Sherman) And real people really suffer.

When we had a son and a daughter, I saw them in every soldier, sailor, or airman I encountered. Having grandchildren, the meaning of  “blood and treasure” deepens my gratitude to those who step up and serve, and my sorrow that we haven’t yet stopped fighting and killing.

Yesterday the text for the sermon was from Ecclesiastes – my camping ground this summer. It was a reminder to pray for the leaders whose policies and politics lead to, or away from, wars that grind up the lives of soldiers who are precious to so many.  

Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a child, and thy princes eat in the morning!
Blessed art thou, O land, when thy king is the son of nobles, and thy princes eat in due season, for strength, and not for drunkenness! (Ecclesiastes 10:16-17)

 And a goad to put my money where my mouth is – and give!