“It’s A Control Thing.”

That’s how a good friend confesses how he can generate unwarranted conflict.  And that “thing” is the root of how I can get so tied up in knots, and often the reason we all explode in angry declarations or in icy silences when conflict erupts. And many of us – even in the church -- go to great lengths to control people, places and things.  Such methods demonstrate a hard heart, and an unsoundness of mind; this type of control can generate needless conflict.

Not all conflict is bad – great solutions are often forged from opposing points of view. Frank A. Clark, a newspaper writer known as  "The Country Parson," wrote, "We find comfort among those who agree with us - growth among those who don't. "

Humans disagree; we take different positions because we are many and varied. Conflict is part of life – it shouldn’t be surprise me.  (John 16:33) But it always does.

Recently, I’ve experienced two painful examples of folks going to great lengths to get their way.  In both cases the folks who asserted control inflamed a smoldering conflict and my feelings were singed because of how both chose to express their frustrations. (So also, others’ feelings were hurt.)

One person with “a control thing” kept a fight going after her death – using her will to pronounce judgment in a conflict that started fifty-four years ago.  Another person immortalized her displeasure with me in a public e-mail; when she hit “send,” she communicated the same kind of public condemnation as the will.   Both people had conflicts they sought to control instead of resolve. Both people wounded others who read their words.

But will their angry words gain them the desired control over the people and situations?  Did they “win” the conflicts because they got the last word?

The person who chose to get the last word in the will is beyond all that now, and I can’t be a part of resolving a conflict taken to the grave. How she did what she did, though, changed how I will remember her – robbing me of the assurance she was a friend. Painful as this is, her method of control reminds me, if I can’t overlook an offense, go to the person and talk it out.  If that doesn’t work out, remember what Thumper’s mom advised: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”

Now, the author of the very public e-mail achieved a measure of control – public scolding stings.  And I hope God will use what was written in anger, for good.  Though she insisted I never contact her again, I hope I have the courage, when God makes a way, to reconcile this painful breech.  

Letting go of resentment is a first step. A quote from a children’s classic wisely counsels how to let go of people, places and things:

 
"The horror of that moment," the King went on, "I shall never, never forget!"  

"You will, though," the Queen said, "if you don't make a memorandum of it. 

 ~Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass, 1872

A bigger step is remembering I don’t control other people.

• People are different and want different things. That’s the SPARK of conflict. 
• Differences get worse when sinful selfishness and pride drive our actions. That’s the GASOLINE of conflict. 
• Destruction results when we  . . . allow our sinful desires [to drive] our words and actions. That’s the FIRE of conflict. (Ken Sande, Resolving Everyday Conflict, pp 11-12) 

I say I am a follower of Christ – that means I know He did not die and leave me in charge. (Matthew 6:25-34)  Therefore, let go of anger!  “Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret." (Ambrose Bierce) And being willing to let go and let God act, listening before I speak – or write -- might dampen the embers of resentment and fireproof a few of our more combustible relationships.    

 "O that you would be completely silent,  And that it would become your wisdom!" (Job 13:5)

The Last Ten Days

Splashed across a billboard in a local shopping center is the prophecy that the world will end on May 21st this year. And this is from a prominent Christian, Harold Camping, the head of Christian Family Radio who has the money to proclaim the end is coming. Some people are acting accordingly, divesting themselves of property and pets; others are traveling around urging fellow citizens to repent and get right, for when the Lord returns, life will change for those who are at ease in their rejection of God.

I grew up saying I believed Christ will come again to judge the quick and the dead – seeing the announcement that this tenet of my faith is imminent, coupled with all news of earthquakes and wars, makes me wonder how I would spend the last ten days of my life?

Even if Mr. Camping turns out to be right, it’s only a lucky guess. Christ said nobody knows the hour of His return, including Him. (Matthew 24:36) He said when He does come it will be like a thief in the night – but everyone will see Him coming. Christ also said we are to stay busy at our work; Paul chastised those who refused to work, anticipating the Lord’s return (Luke 18:8; 1 Thessalonians 4)

But, if I knew I only had ten days to live, I would tell everybody I love how much they have meant to me; I would do my part to restore all broken relationships, and I would make restitution for all the damage I did. I would pray more to be ready to see Him. I would do whatever good I could to as many folks as I could reach – anticipating that in days I will finally see Christ, and know what He looks like, what His voice sounds like. I would be able to cope with all kinds of stuff, knowing that in ten days, I will have no more worry, pain or problems . . . no more doubts. Wow. I will see those who died in the same faith, that Christ is Lord, and God raised Him from the dead.

But, at the end of ten days, I will never again see those who do not believe God. I only have ten days to work . . . that understanding gives me no peace.

And Christ came to give me (and you) peace. (John 14:27) He also gives hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11) And a purpose. (Hebrews 12:13-15)

Nothing is stopping me from doing all the things I would do if I knew May 21, 2011 were my last day – nothing except the complacency that Peter warned against. (2 Peter 3:3- 9) So, on to realize the ambitions, dreams, and the chores for the day , so I can say, with Erma Bombeck:

“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me.”

A Series and A Sermon

I am a Masterpiece Theatre fan. Unfortunately the most recent production, “South Riding,” has been a dismal reminder how invisible the visible church was in a corner of Great Britain – Yorkshire -- in the aftermath of WWI and the Depression. No village, town or city escaped the grief WWI brought – and this dramatization portrays the troubles that are the hallmark of the early twentieth century. Great Britain mobilized 8,904,467 men; 36% of these men became casualties: killed, missing or wounded. That percentage of men, gone or incapacitated, affected the women – and it surely affected the village churches! Some have written that the established churches in this era stumbled badly and were unable to maintain moral authority. (Wayne M Riggs, "The ecclesiastical response in Britain to World War I: A study of the Church of England, the Church of Scotland, and the Roman Catholic Church" (January 1, 2008).)

Some characters in “South Riding” are spunky – feisty – taking on the task of never repeating the mistakes that led their nation into war. Others are victims -- physically, mentally, and emotionally. None have hope; none act like a power greater than themselves can save them. Even the clergyman, a powerful defender of Christian charity, is hopeless, a captive of his passions, and sinks into depressing debaucheries.

These fictional characters, and the uncertainty of their times are not so different from folks we meet today – or the times in which we live. As critical as I might be about England’s churches to “maintain moral authority,” how is the American church doing? How’s my local church doing, maintaining moral authority? And how am I doing? Are we as ineffective to influence our times as the English church appeared to be in 1934? Am I?

Serendipitously on Sunday last, the pastor described a dimension of the Holy’s Spirit’s power and authority and purpose from Acts, and offered a checklist by which I might gauge my the pressure in my spiritual tires. Just how far do I get on the power Christ offers me? By Christ’s last words, He expects that we will go far:

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." (Acts 1:8)

And then the pastor cited four marks of an effective witness by which we may test for leaks in our own witness: contrition, certainty, confrontation, and compassion.

* Contrition – How sorry am I for my sins? My answer: Like the wretched fictional clergyman in the BBC production, I am often sorry and ashamed. But then I deceive myself that what I want to do really doesn’t seem too bad.

• Certainty -- Christ said it – that settles it! My reaction, however, can wobble: Yes, but . . . too often wafts through my mind unsettling what is supposed to be settled. (Mark 9:24)

• Confrontation – By definition, confrontation is creating an intentional conflict. It means not only telling you, I think you are wrong, and why; it means walking with you – clearing the path, helping each other out. (Proverbs 24:11-12; Hebrews 12:13.) But I am too often more worried about your opinion of me than your welfare.

• Compassion – This is God’s defining attribute, and it means passing on to others the loving-kindness that drew me away from my self-centered and gave me a hope and a future. (John 4)

So, a drama series and a sermon providentially showed me how impotent and unproductive I can be when I turn down or misuse the Holy Spirit’s power. The Great War, the Roaring Twenties, and the great Depression swept through the church, and many in it were overcome by grief and sin. Times are not getting easier – and I can feel myself weakening. The first decade of this century has swept through the church, carrying as much terror, disgrace, death and destruction. But the Christ’s church, me included, has a choice and a chance:

. . . I have to write insisting — begging! — that you fight with everything you have in you for this faith entrusted to us as a gift to guard and cherish . . .
Go easy on those who hesitate in the faith. Go after those who take the wrong way. Be tender with sinners, but not soft on sin. . . . (Selected verses from Jude -- THE MESSAGE)

Going in Circles?

Years ago I was taught to think of my relationships as an increasing series of concentric circles: first is my relationship with my Maker, (Psalm 139:13-16) my husband and family, (Proverbs 31:10-31 Titus 2:2-5) and then my Christian family and those outside these circles. (Acts 18:26)

The core circle is God, who enables me to expand my devotion and duties in larger and larger spheres. Too often, though, it is the outer “circle” -- the world -- that drives me, distracting me from paying attention to God, and then my closest relationships. The result is predictable: I spin out of control, wobbling like a top, ending up in places I never intended.

Too often I project about what (I think) other people will think of how I do what I do and act accordingly -- more worried about their opinion than God’s, or those closest to me. Or, I form opinions on how and what others do, without really understanding why. So, a favorite “commentator” of mine, Eugene Peterson helps me realign my relationships. He paraphrased Matthew 6:1-4: Christ’s warning to His disciples on carrying out duties and devotions this way:

The World Is Not a Stage

"Be especially careful when you are trying to be good so that you don't make a performance out of it. It might be good theater, but the God who made you won't be applauding.

"When you do something for someone else, don't call attention to yourself. You've seen them in action, I'm sure — 'playactors' I call them — treating prayer meeting and street corner alike as a stage, acting compassionate as long as someone is watching, playing to the crowds. They get applause, true, but that's all they get. When you help someone out, don't think about how it looks. Just do it — quietly and unobtrusively. That is the way your God, who conceived you in love, working behind the scenes, helps you out. (Matthew 6:1-4 from THE MESSAGE.)

Do You See the Reset Button?

I did it again. I set off the alarm, and the police showed up in less than five minutes. This time, I remained calm when the smoke detector erupted, sensing my charcoal toast, and signaled the siren on the roof. (The last time I got so flustered by the shrieking siren I forgot the override code.) However, I did not have the correct number to alert the emergency dispatch there wasn’t any fire; so the police arrived. The officer told me I should check with the company because I couldn’t get the declaration “FIRE” from alarm’s keypad.

I called the alarm company and a tech support person called back – and walked me through everything I did, and then reminded me to look at the key pad, and see the “reset” button. If all the smoke is gone, hit it – it may take some time to reset if the air is even a bit smokey – but it will reset the system. Next time – God forbid – after I disarm the alarm – call the emergency dispatch desk, and then, hit the reset button.

All this on the Saturday before Easter – the eternal gift that is better than a reset button. I’ve done a bunch of dumb stuff – I do wrong things – and knowing me, I will do things that are like the toast I burned for the rest of my life. But when Christ walked out of that tomb, He pushed the reset button on my life, having paid the bill for all my sins – even knowing all I would do, even after the hour I first believed. (Isaiah 53:1-12; Colossians 1:13; 1 John 1:9-2:2)

At Christmas, we may wish the Lord a “Happy Birthday.” On Easter, all I can say is “Thank you.” And God, help me hit the reset button again.

Another Beating Caught on a Cell-phone

Was this a prank?
Was it real?

You can go to the Drudge Report and see it for yourself.

It doesn’t matter on one level who the victim is, indeed who the bully is, so much as the inescapable fact: one person filmed it while perhaps a half-dozen people watched and kibitzed, expressing opinions – for at least eight to ten minutes.

It could have been a flashback to Germany in the 1930's – or the rural South in the same time period. In this clip, in a McDonald’s fast-food restaurant in America, a white woman brought down the wrath of two or three black women – and men stood by watching; one older woman tried intervening as the victim was dragged by her hair to the door, and savaged again.

Unidentified voices shooed away the attackers before the police arrived; the persistent cameraman recorded the beating victim in a seizure.

I watched others watch a beating victim go into seizures; I heard the observers remark she was seizing and bleeding – but the cameraman recorded no one assisting.

Pay back is costly.

If this was a prank, staged for an internet audience, it is a dreadful commentary on who or what we are, that this is “entertainment.”

If this actually happened – and no one stopped it – then why are we so afraid of the “terrorists?”

April Winds

The wind has been unrelenting and strong this afternoon. I see it tossing leaves all about, even splitting the trunk of the Bradford pear, up the street from us. It isn’t singing; it’s moaning down our chimney periodically. I have felt its push, and seen its force today – and cannot say it is simply a stronger child than me. ("The Wind" by R.L. Stevenson)

This wind is like a young man, vigorous, and powerful – taunting the large oak tree across the street. The oak’s branches strain as their leaves ripple – smaller branches, crack and give way, littering the lawn. The wind keeps whipping through the oak overhanging our driveway also shook loose small branches, leaves, and twigs.

Yet, it hasn’t harmed me.

I enjoy the luxury of waiting in sheltered place for the wind to calm down – looking out on another outstanding April day in Texas: sunny, not too warm – if you don’t have to do yard work, or land a plane. It’s a simple mercy to have time to wait this wind out. Others have to be out and about their business and risk getting hit, or being hurt.

I think of many folks today who can’t hide from the relentless gusts in their lives. Many Japanese and Haitian people have to keep struggling, as do people caught up in wars and uprisings that abound in today’s world. They haven’t the luxury of waiting out the winds that have swept into their lives. Instead they have to clear and sweep up the debris – bury their dead – while getting hit and hurt.

It’s not only overseas. Many Americans saw this week what a tornado can do. Children were murdered today – and their families have no place to hide. Life is hard: people are dying for a drink; men and women lost their jobs; girls saw pregnancy tests that came back positive; children ran away from their parents; and parents couldn't or wouldn't care for their children – these folks don’t have the shelter or time to remark on the force of a spring wind.

They need help – and helping involves risk. It’s not always safe, or easy to help these folks get going again in the midst of their storms. Hearing sirens in the distance while I writing reminds me someone is speeding to help another person – taking a risk.

But, they are trained and equipped . . .

How much preparation did the good Samaritan have? What did he have that I lack? He saw a need, and used what he had, and took a risk that would cost him more. (Luke 10:30-37)

If I still hesitate to take risks, Dwight L. Moody, a voice from the nineteenth century, sounds like he knew the twenty-first century’s traps: “True will power and courage is not on the battlefield, but in everyday conquests over our inertia, laziness, boredom.”

And Robert Louis Stevenson, no stranger to suffering had an answer for those of us who are risk averse:

The world has no room for cowards. We must all be ready somehow to toil, to suffer, to die. And yours is not the less noble because no drum beats before you when you go out into your daily battle fields, and no crowds shout about your coming when you return from your daily victory or defeat.

Where can I go? What can I do? I can’t go halfway around the world – nor can I roar off to the inner city or restore downed power lines. I can, however, move out of my comfort zone – even few feet into a world that is crazier and crazier – and more treacherous. The good Samaritan let go of a little time, and some money and cared for a wounded man, in a dangerous part of his world. He took a risk.

Floaters and Flashers, or

How the Sideward Glimmer of Flashing Worms Got My Attention.

I know a few folks who have coped with loss of their sight. Each person’s loss was unique, from a cicatricial pemphigoid to macular degeneration; from inoperable cataracts to retinitis pigmentosa. Until just today, I never thought about my eyesight being disabled.

My husband had endured a tear in his retina, and my mother’s retina had detached unexpectedly. So, the flashing lights to the left of my field of vision got my attention, when the swooping and darting dark flashes – that I thought was a large dark moth – had not. These new companions waited out the night and greeted me first thing in the morning – but disappeared right after I secured an appointment for an examination. He said: As long as they dissipate – or disappear – I can avoid the pleasure of meeting a retina specialist.

Bright light doesn’t make one see more clearly if the eye’s pupil can’t constrict. I didn’t think about blindness until I emerged into Texas sunshine, from having my eyes dilated during the appointment. I shut my eyes, having no sunglasses and felt a wave of helplessness, not being quite sure what to do next.

Shortly, however, the drops wore off, and I could see.

The floaters and flashers returned briefly, as if to remind me – too many are the blessings I assume are mine to keep. Life, heath, sight, hearing – strength are not givens. Then the floaters and flashers departed – for now.

And if they visit you, dear reader – call the doctor. They are probably nothing more than shifting of vitreous within your eye – but they might not be.

Follow-Up

So, I made it to Church -- on time, even. Corporate worship in a building, though, was not as delightful as our backyard had been earlier.

However, if I had chosen worship in my garden this morning, I would not have heard, “Amazing Grace” sung and signed by the youth choir – reminding me of the spiritual and physical gifts I have as a follower; I would not have seen friends who have come through a hard fight against cancer, smiling and worshiping; I would not have been able to join with others and give. And I would not have been disciplined. For that is what this sermon was this morning – a reproof – which ran over time! At twelve past noon, I saw some of the congregation fidgeting, by 12:15 P.M., some arose and left – ostensibly to retrieve their offspring from the Sunday school. Yes, I grew uncomfortable – but I recognized this was a reproof I needed to hear.

It was given by a guest preacher, a former associate pastor of the church, and a founding member of our denomination (Presbyterian Church in America): Paul Gunter Settle. His text was Matthew 16:13-20; his topic, “Confessing Christ.” Pastor Settle’s sermon hemmed me in on one level. Christ, who is God, is the only way to God. However, on another level, hearing again that I am not God, has freed me of the responsibility of detail managing even myself.

From Genesis to Deuteronomy, through Daniel and Isaiah; from John chapter 8, through Paul’s descriptions, and concluding with Christ’s Revelation, Pastor Settle quoted the passages* that expanded Peter’s answer for all the disciples, as well as offering an answer to the proposition that Christ never claimed to be God. He spoke quietly, unwaveringly, unfolding the Scriptures which describe who Christ is – the Son of the Living God – concluding with a question: “Whom do you say He is?”

This older teaching elder resolutely admonished the congregation – perhaps as Paul warned the Colossian church. (Colossians 3:16-17)

Why?

Perhaps he believes (as I wonder) if something unfathomed has happened in our country and the church in the last decades – and it’s time to be sure the church knows why Peter answered Christ so passionately, speaking for the others. And now is the time to equip us -- night really is coming:

. . . so proclaim the Message with intensity; keep on your watch. Challenge, warn, and urge your people. Don't ever quit. Just keep it simple. You're going to find that there will be times when people will have no stomach for solid teaching, but will fill up on spiritual junk food — catchy opinions that tickle their fancy. They'll turn their backs on truth and chase mirages. But you — keep your eye on what you're doing; accept the hard times along with the good; keep the Message alive; do a thorough job as God's servant. (2 Timothy 4:1-5 from THE MESSAGE)

Profess Him rightly – for one day, He will profess you.

"Stand up for me against world opinion and I'll stand up for you before my Father in heaven. If you turn tail and run, do you think I'll cover for you?”
(Matthew 10:32-33 from THE MESSAGE)

Without raising his voice, threatening or accusing; without devolving into conspiracy theories, the pastor spoke to folks like me, who are prone to wander, and forget Whom it is we serve.I doubt those flowers could have posed so direct and detailed a sermon as Pastor Settle did – God I believe You; over come my doubts! (Mark 9:24)

* A Sampling of verses describing who Christ is:

Genesis 3:15 and Isaiah 9:6-7
Exodus 3:14
Deuteronomy 18:15
Isaiah 53
Daniel 7:22
John 1:1-18
Colossians 1:15
Revelation 1:12-18 and remember the Voice who confirmed Christ as His Son, first at the baptism before crowds, and the Transfiguration. (Matthew 3:17, Luke 9:35-36)

Why Do I Have to Go to Church?

It’s a magnificent Sunday morning in Dallas! Breezy, sunny and oh so quiet.

Wandering around I am overcome – first by the labors of other hands. The roses are waving – fragrant hands of pink, salmon, deep red, pail pink and yellow. The climbing roses – that heretofore have only shown leaves – have blossomed, their dark red buds opening, revealing bright yellow centers. All got a severe pruning in February – but not as much I was told to prune roses in Maryland.

My black-eyed Susans are garnering strength, I hope will burst forth in warmer, drier weather, when the roses languish. My tiny new garden is flourishing; this morning I sowed some marigolds. The lavender I planted last year, and I feared was lost, is branching out. In between the multicolored roses, I planted some lilies – with another batch on the way. My favorites – the red geraniums – enjoy the warm sun. But, in a few weeks, I must find more shade if they are to survive the Texas summer. In Maryland, geraniums did well in the sun; fifteen hundred miles south and west – the rays are lethal. The squirrels may have assassinated the freesia bulbs I planted in an accommodating large pot. Fuzzy rodents!

The sprinkler system we inherited is a luxury – I watered by hand most summer evenings in Maryland – a therapy session, if you will, where I worked through the weeds in my heart and mind. Here, a simple timer turns on sprinkle heads which cover the beds and yard thoroughly. But we struggle with getting the timing and duration properly apportioned. Water evaporated quickly – but even a few extra minutes twice a day is too much for some plants, and I may have drowned the wax crepe myrtle we planted when we first moved in.

Surely God can be worshiped as well in a garden as church? I see His handiwork and my deficits clearly – He has preserved and brought forth “life” from plants that seemed fit only for discarding – and seeds that bore no resemblance to the flowers I enjoy. And my soul agrees – “How Great Thou Art!” But, singing a capella in my mind, in my garden, isn’t how the God of the Bible commanded worship.

Who is the real Gardener?

A church building isn’t better than my garden to draw near to God. Wherever and whenever I draw near to Him, He draws near to me. It’s the others who come to worship that distinguishes a building from my garden.

Staying alone in my garden would be like the roses – if they could – refusing to be pruned, watered, or insisting on shade rather than sun. It would be like the geraniums – if they could – refusing the shade I will provide when the slant of the summer’s sun scorches.

I need the care of corporate worship –sound teaching – and fellowship. Nothing magic happens there – but something supernatural does. Details after the 11:00 A.M. service.
So let's do it — full of belief, confident that we're presentable inside and out.

Let's keep a firm grip on the promises that keep us going. He always keeps his word. Let's see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on, especially as we see the big Day approaching.

If we give up and turn our backs on all we've learned, all we've been given, all the truth we now know, we repudiate Christ's sacrifice and are left on our own to face the Judgment — and a mighty fierce judgment it will be! (Hebrews 10:22-27 from THE MESSAGE)

Ebenezers – Just This Week

Ebenezer is the name of the stone Samuel told the people to erect to remember how far the Lord had led them. (1 Samuel 7:12) Erecting a memorial to God is a great antidote to pride, and a balm for fear and resentment.

Matthew Henry said

[Samuel] set up an Ebenezer, the stone of help. If ever the people's hard hearts should lose the impressions of this providence, this stone would either revive the remembrance of it, and make them thankful, or remain a standing witness against them for their unthankfulness . . . The beginnings of mercy and deliverance are to be acknowledged by us with thankfulness so far as they go, though they be not completely finished, nay, though the issue seem uncertain. Having obtained help from God, I continue hitherto, says blessed Paul, Acts 26:22. (from Matthew Henry's Commentary on the Whole Bible.)

I enjoyed this week:

* a serendipitous phone conversation with an old friend who also lives apart from her children and grandchildren, and also copes with physical pain.
* several pleasant meals with my husband – and one with a younger family member who has been helpful with a daunting office move.
* bible study and fellowship that answered some issues I had privately raised with God.
* a note from someone who said thanks for some [minimal] help I offered
* a friend who took the time to minister and pray with me and helped me avoid stumbling into a puddle of despair – which always leads smack dab into a pit.
* being asked to help in Bible study for next year.

All these were over and above the happiness of my marriage, our children, our health, safety and well-being, our daily bread, and a week of weather that urged the roses in our garden to burst out.

I did not enjoy equally useful reminders that:

* some people I know and love, prefer atheism to faith in Christ.
* some other folks I know and love, have besetting physical problems and others have addiction problems.
* I have failed my children and husband just as I complain others failed me.

An adage worth remembering counsels: “If you can't be content with what you have received, be thankful for what you have escaped.” And the choice is up to me to be grateful or griping. My choice is the mortar that will hold a precious stone in place – for uncertain times are a certainty.

Where’d All that "Glorious Texas" Weather Go?

It always happens.

I get all my winter clothes sorted, cleaned and stored; my spring and summer clothes arranged and culled, and the weather changes from warm and balmy to chilly and damp. All that “glorious” Texas sunshine is playing hide and seek – quickly disappearing.

All my newly planted flowers look alarmingly defenseless as the squirrels are still burrowing for the remains of last years acorns. I shooed off one fat and furry fellow from the edge of the pot in which I hope the freesia will flourish.

And I am as thankful for our gas fireplace logs, as I was at Christmas a year ago.

“[S]he who sits by the fire, thankless for the fire, is just as if [s]he had no fire. Nothing is possessed save in appreciation, of which thankfulness is the indispensable ingredient.” (W.J. Cameron, an 19th century explorer and entrepreneur)

“. . . Nothing is possessed save in appreciation . . .”

My appreciation of my family’s safety is deepened by a recent photo of a young Japanese woman sitting, knees clasped, mourning, amidst the rubble of what may have been her home. So many Japanese parents lost their children, so many children, their parents – brothers gone, sisters, lost – the comfortable familiar is now a nightmare. Just as so many Haitians lost their families.

We live in days wherein the luxury of gratifying anger, nurturing resentment, or perpetuating misunderstandings is prohibitively expensive. The cosmos is too changeable – and life is too short to abuse the relationships God has established.

Some aids so you may more fully appreciate the folks around you:

A patient man has great understanding,
but a quick-tempered man displays folly.
A heart at peace gives life to the body,
but envy rots the bones. (Proverbs 14:29-30)

A man's wisdom gives him patience;
it is to his glory to overlook an offense. (Proverbs 19:11)

Do not be quickly provoked in your spirit,
for anger resides in the lap of fools. (Ecclesiastes 7:9)

"In your anger do not sin": Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold. (Ephesians 4:26-27)

Let the Gardening Begin!

Last June, I reported that the Black-eyed Susan seeds sprouted in spite of starting too late, and my careless watering. However, no flowers bloomed, only foliage. I gave up on them, and tucked the greenery in a large pot with a chrysanthemum and liriope – disappointed I would not be seeing any reminders of Maryland in my Texas garden.

But yesterday I was surprised.

Yesterday – a glorious Texas spring day – I gathered my cultivator and spade, “gloved” up and uprooted the wilted winter pansies, flowering broccoli and a ga-zillion shoots from buried acorns from a yard square bed that abuts the covered porch. I preserved three snapdragon plants, hoping they will survive the sun and heat amongst all new flowering plants I intend: Shasta daisies, lemon symphony, lithodoa (grace wind), African daisies and sun bells – all supposed to last in Texas sun and heat.

Then, I spied the large pot, quite green with chrysanthemum leaves and liriope, and a clump of oblong leaves – portending Black-eyed Susans! They made it through the unusual winter we had this year!

Cautiously I extracted them from their companions, and gingerly separated them into seven little plants. Three would be the first plants in the cultivated square! And I put four others along the skinny oblong bed on the far side of the covered porch.

So, if gardens are indeed a form of a form of autobiography, (Sydney Eddison) I started another chapter - a chapter that includes the hope of freesias and lilies – three packets of seeds yet to be sown, and reminders of Maryland. This is indeed an antidote to panic attacks – for I must breathe deeply, exercise, and imagine colors, shapes and smells that divert the anger and anguish the world reports.

Summing up from From quotegarden.com:

“Gardening is about enjoying the smell of things growing in the soil, getting dirty without feeling guilty, and generally taking the time to soak up a little peace and serenity.” ~Lindley Karstens

“ You can bury a lot of troubles digging in the dirt.” ~Author Unknown

Coffee with a Friend

Hi!

I relocated, and update this humble piece and hung it on my new address -- I hope you will visit! https://autumns-garden.com/the-scent-of-christmas/

Classical Music

Hello! I have enlarged my humble knowledge of classical music, and reposted here: https://autumns-garden.com/hanging-pictures-hearing-music-still-sorting-stuff/

 Please come on over!

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome. ~Anne Bradstreet

Ash Wednesday 2011: Gottcha!

Words have meanings and these meanings express ideas that carry real consequences By their words a teacher lost her job; a presidential hopeful his shot at the office, a community worker her job, and now the C.E.O. of NPR, her position. A hidden camera interview – a.k.a. gottcha journalism – toppled another prominent person. (See here.) For years secret taping has exposed people doing and saying foolish, mean, reprehensible things. The stupidity isn’t limited to a few. From a national candidate caught mocking people’s ethnicity, to employees showing clients how to skirt the law, to media elite demeaning political operatives, we see it isn’t just the kids who say the darndest things! And every single one of them might agree with Mary Ann Evans (George Elliot) who wrote “Blessed is the person who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact.”

We’ve known about “bugs” and “moles” – but now no one has the luxury of saying what is really on their minds – for now we live in an age of open mikes to the world. Leaders – political, social, academic, scientific, and artists – can see their offhand or heartfelt comments go viral in the time it takes to watch a You-Tube clip, or Facebook post.

However we think about what was done and how, the expectation of being instantly and publically answerable for our words is daunting. I always wondered what God meant when He admonished me I would give an account of every careless word. A paraphrase describes the warning this way:

Let me tell you something: Every one of these careless words is going to come back to haunt you. There will be a time of Reckoning. Words are powerful; take them seriously. Words can be your salvation. Words can also be your damnation. (Matthew 12:36-37 from THE MESSAGE)

Five years of technological advances suggests how He might keep such an account. If just the memory of a few of my “verbal lapses” embarrasses me – how much more would the irrefutable evidence of all my careless words convict me?

Today is a day of repentance on the church’s liturgical calendar; many Christians therefore submitted themselves to a mark of ashes which symbolize our repentance from our sins. (Job 42:6) But every day is the time to think about our words and repent from our folly. (Psalm 51, 139:23-24) Calling anyone a fool, for any reason, has a real consequence. (Matthew 5:22-24) Today is the best time to seek to restore the relationships we have harmed – starting with God, Himself.

No using the name of God, your God, in curses or silly banter; God won't put up with the irreverent use of his name. (Exodus 20:7 from THE MESSAGE )

And then think about all the times we laughed off, or disregarded others’ objections to what we were saying, “just kidding!”

People who shrug off deliberate deceptions,
saying, "I didn't mean it, I was only joking,"
Are worse than careless campers
who walk away from smoldering campfires.
(Proverbs 26:18-19 from THE MESSAGE )

Words are powerful weapons – or tools. They can cost us relationships, jobs, and respect and peace with God.

The man of few words and settled mind is wise; therefore, even a fool is thought to be wise when he is silent. It pays him to keep his mouth shut. (Proverbs 17:27 The Living Bible)

It’s NEVER Too Late!

She blurted out her frustration: her children, aged six and eight, fight all the time. Listening, I was tempted to respond – I held back; I didn’t want to be overwhelming in the "meet and greet" segment of the worship service. But I thought about her frustration during the sermon, remembering the shame I felt when our little “Christian” family scraped and fought with each other.

Because I wince still when I think about the stupid escalating quarrels, I didn’t want this dear young mom to give up on the most important ministry to her kids who are fighting. So at the end of the service, I took her hand. She now looked stunned as it was my turn to blurt out my heart: I told her, it may sound crazy, but she has a high calling in the midst of fighting children. I told her not get tired or give up teaching her kids how to resolve their arguments. If we want our kids to be blessed, and called sons of God, we must teach and model peacemaking.

Yes – I know it means more work – more tears – and many, many more prayers to know how to be a peacemaker amidst fights, remembering that this is a high calling – one that the church sometimes fails to do.

Twenty years ago nobody in our church seemed candid about their family fights – and I sure was not going to be the first one to expose the problems. So Doug and I stumbled along until we started searching for and applying some Scriptures. Later we were introduced to peacemaking principles through Peacemaker Ministries. (The 4 G's) They remind us if we would be reconciled to God, we must be reconciled to each other.

Conflict is an opportunity to glorify God, Ken Sande, Peacemaker Ministries, founder. This is hard to remember when – for the umpteenth time – the kids start fighting. These fights have prompted many to call “Super-Nanny,” an engrossing character on a reality show. She shows frazzled families how introducing a firm, loving hand, a simple system of warnings, disciplines and rewards, and practicing them consistently brings order to disorderly homes. How much more will God help us when we come under His care, learning to apply His principles!

Here’s a starting point: Peacemaker Ministries has organized some Scripture into acronyms, one of which is the 4-G’s.( Link)

Glorify God
Get the log out of your own eye
Gently restore
Go and be reconciled.

Think about the 4-G’s when your kids fight. I know, dear mom, you are tired – hurting – and perhaps at your wits’ end. Your kids’ fighting horrifies and dismays you – but you are there for a reason, and it isn’t just to keep giving them time-outs or threatening them with their father’s wrath. You are their teacher who points them to Christ, the only Mediator between God and them, and shows them the power that is theirs when they learn how to please God, and use disciplined, loving words to describe how they feel. It’s not too late!

Gearing Up for a Perfect Summer?

The author of The Perfect Summer: England 1911, Just Before the Storm, constructs a window into life 100 years ago, so we may glimpse the aristocracy and commoners; artists, writers, politicians, suffragettes, and laborers living through the great British heat wave. (Book review) Throughout her anecdotal album of how the rich and famous coped, and how the not so well-off suffered, Juliet Nicholson draws from the news but, writes as if drawing from prominent people’s diaries. The reader may savor the gossip Ms Nicholson dispenses. Yet, the reader who knows how the lives of all these people will be irretrievably altered weeps. How important would the distress of heat and drought seem, if people knew what August 1914 would bring? She describes the young men attending parties and balls as unaware how soon they would be canon fodder.

I was vexed reading how carelessly those with wealth and privilege chose to live; Some of my vexation was tinged with jealousy. All things being equal, would I have been so different?

Where was the church in 1911? Parts of her were battling Islam in British Guiana the New York Time reported in the fall of 1911.But Ms. Nicholson did not report this. She reports very little of the church – visible or invisible. A remnant is not always so easy to spot among such glittery social fabrics – or bolts of social misery.

Where is the church today? – Where am I? The upheaval in Egypt shows an ongoing battle with Islam. (more info) I pray this generation’s remnant will be clearly visible – wherever we are! And I pray my courage will not slide either.

The summer of 2011 is a few months off; will a heat wave try us as it did the Brits a century ago? One hundred years ago, some warned – but none could imagine the coming carnage and chaos. We have more access to news of world events – events that might alter our comfortable world. So, in one sense, we are more aware – but how well do we understand our times?

" . . . If you grasp and cling to life on your terms, you'll lose it, but if you let that life go, you'll get life on God's terms. (Luke 17:27-37 The Message)

Lord, I believe – Help Thou, my unbelief!

Doing is Smarter than Saying

In a letter to her husband John, shortly before the American Revolution, Abigail Adams wrote, “We have too many high-sounding words, and too few actions that correspond with them.”

H-m-m-m-m.

Now, I like high-sounding words – and I like arranging and rearranging them in sentences, paragraphs and points that convey deep thoughts. I like them so much, I spend a fair amount of time writing letters in my head, or having conversations, with many high-sounding words, imagining all the points I could make to help people I love, on how avoid the potholes and brick walls that I hit square on. Mrs. Adams prods me to reconsider all the good advice I am tempted to give. She would ask me, what deeds back up all your advice? In other words,

“Remember, people will judge you by your actions, not your intentions. You may have a heart of gold -- but so does a hard-boiled egg.” (An anonymous quote)

Once in a while I am asked for advice – not as frequently as I am asked for my prayers, though. Here again, it’s not what I say, but what I do, believing God is stirring up the prayers He will answer in His time.

When I am asked, what I would say, are summed up by two principles, and a set of powerful examples: (emphases added)

The true secret of giving advice is, after you have honestly given it, to be perfectly indifferent whether it is taken or not, and never persist in trying to set people right. ~Hannah Whitall Smith ( a woman who lived with many disappointments)

In giving advice seek to help, not to please, your friend. ~Solon (An architect of Athenian democracy)

“Keep your mouth shut, be pleasant and try to be useful.” (My mother and mother-in-law)

God, please make a woman of deeds and doing – instead of pontificating! But when I need to speak, give me the courage to speak the truth in love. Keep me from saying anything I am not doing myself. And stir up in me prayers, believing whatever I ask in Christ’s name You will do.

John Lennon & My New Food Processor.

It took me long enough to decide; Saturday I did. I bought a food processor. With discounts and rebates I saved twenty dollars. Which is good because the trip to the Urgent-care was $25.00.

Unpacking the machine with care, I had been mindful of the sharp blade; warily I picked up the chopper with my left hand and it flew out, grazing my thumb and to fingers and palm. Catching it with my right hand, it sliced a moon shape into my third finger. Scrambling to help, Doug assembled the first aid station, and went to work – when the bleeding did not stop, we headed over to the professional band-aiders. They fixed me up and renewed my tetanus vaccination.

And our adventure happened on a Monday. Needless to say, my agenda changed. So, now, I gaze now across my desk at the sunshine and shadows that are today’s gifts – and agree with Robert Fulghum: “If you break your neck, if you have nothing to eat, if your house is on fire, then you got a problem. Everything else is inconvenience.”

I reflect that God, who knew I needed a way to the Urgent-care, saw to it the luncheon that would have occupied my hubby was canceled. He also saw to it the snow and ice were totally gone, too. He put me into the care of capable, kind folks in a clean facility. There, I thought about our soldiers. And my friends who are undergoing rehabilitation, cancer treatment, and palliative care as their lives end. So many I know and love, and more whom I know only by reputation have had their plans “changed.” “Life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans,” John Lennon observed.

The food processor gleams on the counter – almost saying, “Want to play again.” Well, not today, or, even tomorrow. Some of the recipes that convinced me of my need for a food processor involve “moisture.” I can hunt and peck out my tale – but I can’t do much else that involves moisture. Therefore, I am putting off all those amazing recipes for health and fitness for a few more days.

Sometimes the littlest things in life are the hardest to take. You can sit on a mountain more comfortably than on a tack. ~Author Unknown