Decisions may be life-changing

Note to self: next time you wake up with something on your mind that you need to write down - do it before you read the news. Your perspective will be changed before you get a chance to write what was on your mind! Oh, well, anyway, I woke up with decisions on my mind and one decision in particular that I made 52 years ago. It was a day or two before Christmas and I was having a serious discussion with my then-current sweetie (as opposed to my then-ex sweetie, which is a long story) and the discussion threatened to take a monumental turn. He was weary from health issues with his dad, educational issues with current post-graduate studies, and romance issues with this young lady who could not seem to make up her mind just which direction she wanted to go. He finally declared that he was just giving up on (me) because nothing was working out! Well, that put the "fear of God" in me and I practically begged him to reconsider us and give me another chance to figure life out. He did, and I did, and the rest is history! So Christmas 52 years ago I received an earthly gift that is still giving and though it is not quite as important as the Gift God gave us so long ago, it sure ranks right up there with things to be thankful for. This Christmas Day 2016 I thank God once again for sending His Son to make a way for me to know God and have my sins forgiven. Then, secondly, I thank Him for sending me my life-long sweetheart and best earthly friend. Truly, I need no other gifts because I have all I need! Of course, if you have already purchased something, well...but Merry Christmas to all my friends and family. Looking forward to worshiping Him today on His birthday celebration day - hope you are, too

A Healing Light on an Old Problem

I was looking through some old journals throughout July and into August.  I like to do that to remind me of what I have learned throughout the years, and to remind me of my past blessings when current problems arise.  Two weeks ago I was re-reading my kids' comments from a Fathers Day service at our church - things they learned from their Dad - and it moved me to tears all over again!  But as I read the remarks it (finally) occurred to me that I could say many of those same things about my own Dad - I never do, though, because I did not ever feel that I had a personal and loving relationship with him.  I was afraid of him from my earliest memories - he was big and I was small, he had a loud voice and I was very quiet, he really spanked those naughty brothers of mine and that scared me - and I do not ever remember hugs and kisses from him, though my mom insisted he loved me and was very proud of me.  But this past August 5th was kind of a wake-up call for me.  I believe I have dwelt on the negatives and just let the positives pass me by all these years.  Now, because of my kids' thoughtful comments on my husband as a father, I am moved to highlight the ways in which my Dad shaped me for the good and helped me become what I am today.  I should, then, say thanks to my wonderful sweetheart for showing me what a real father is, and that I really did have one of my own all those years!  My Dad always provided for his family, which could not have been easy with 10 kids and depression years and a country at war a good share of that time.  He did not go into debt, except for our house in the city, which cost a whopping $5,000 and took at least 20 years to pay for.  We had lots of food, adequate clothing, a safe family life, good shelter, and constant supervision and care.  He always made sure we did well in school, that we did not talk back to anyone, that we respected our elders.  Dad did not accept crude or cursing language, he insisted on modest dress at home and in public.  He loved my mom totally and faithfully.  He disciplined when necessary being much more gentle with the sisters than with the brothers.  He encouraged me when I began to follow Christ, though he never went to church the whole time I knew him (except for weddings).  Mom and Dad had met at church, though, as they were in choir together.  In later pictures and videos of my family, I do see more smiles on Dad's face, and the joy that his family evidently gave him.  Before he died we did make a truce, of sorts.  He met me at the train one day as I went back to college for another year, and for some reason I gave him a hug and told him I loved him.  He was really surprised and said, "I love you, too!"  I have wished since then that I had tried that tactic much earlier and maybe things would have been different!  At any rate, though it has taken me a very long time, I think I can now say that I was blessed by the father that God gave to me, and that he did in many ways model my Heavenly Father for me.  He was imperfect, and I now see that I should have been looking at his heart and seeing the real him.  God has certainly done that for me and I should have been doing it all along for all those around me!

My Dad would be 113 tomorrow, August 17, 2016, if he were still alive.  Maybe I have cried fewer tears over his passing in 1968 because of my failure to understand him.  But now that I finally see the "light", I expect it will hurt more.  I have a hope that he and my wonderful Mom will someday greet me on Heaven's shores and we can all sit down and rejoice in healed memories.  Isn't God good?!!

The Sisters

Jennifer (my oldest grand-daughter) used to refer to her sisters as, "the sisters," like as though they were a separate group within the family.  I never did that, but I could have.  I had 5 living sisters growing up, and I was next to the youngest of them.  They were all so very different from me, and even from each other.  Marion was the most like me and we spent many hours together, even after she married and moved to their own place.  We were both more quiet, introspective, traditional - linear thinkers - and more like my mom than the others.  Doris was more likely to go in her own direction, and that included an early marriage and large family. She was very caring, though, and spent a lot of time with us even after moving out and across the river with her Charlie  and their kids.  Towards the end, she and I were in almost daily contact, spending much time reliving memories and talking about how hard it was to lose her husband.  She missed him so much, and never really got over it. She had COPD for many years and struggled a lot.  Frances never married and she and Shirley lived at home, taking care of my mom throughout the 16 years of mom's Parkinson's Disease.  They both worked outside the home, too.  Frances spent most of the years working at a book publishing factory and Shirley at The Sheltered Workshop, which employed handicapped people. Shirley had polio as a teenager and never was really strong.  She was quite introverted and a real homebody.  She always walked the couple of miles to work and spent evenings at home.  Shirley loved Pepsi, raw onions, and cigarettes.  She kept her love and caring pretty much inside herself, though.  Now, Frances, on the other hand, called everybody "Love" and was much more outgoing and confident!  She had strong opinions and did not hesitate to voice them.  She is the sister who gave me the most grief growing up, but she eventually had an experience with Christ and became a good friend to me.  She always had a cat and the cat was always a cantankerous one - make of that what you will - and she took a lot of teasing over that.  

The three brothers were next and could be the subject of an entire post some day.  But after them is where I fit in.  This is a good spot, because it meant that all the hand-me-downs were worn out and so I needed new clothes every school year!  As my younger sister and I grew to be similar in size, we were able to share a wardrobe and that gave us double the outfits each year - pretty neat, huh?!  We thought so! Joyce and I were almost a new set of sisters because we were so much younger than the others.  We were the "pests" that "the sisters" had to care for each evening as my mom worked at a local restaurant.  Dad was in no way a baby-sitter and "the sisters" never really had a choice.  I didn't feel sorry for them at the time but I did understand later. They and the brothers all felt that we were babied and had it so much easier than they had experienced.  So, we did have a fair amount of sibling rivalry going on and lots of arguments, etc. I think that perhaps Joyce had it the hardest of all because she had no one to "be the boss of " like we all did.  That is possibly why she decided to make her own way in the world much earlier than the rest of us.  She made some choices that I did  not see coming because I had headed off to college by then and was in my own world.  I know life was not easy for her for awhile and I so wish we had all been better people then.  Lots of regrets on our parts - but I have always been so very proud of how she turned out, and the wonderful person she became.

I really have loved/missed all of my sisters, and always will.  Today is June 15, though, and today Joyce would have been 72 if she had not passed away last year.  I know that all her kids are missing her as much as I am, and that is why I am writing today.  Life is a wonderful gift to us, given by God.  He places us in families for our care, love, and enjoyment.  My blood family is the one He chose for me and I am so very grateful to Him!  I love them all - just 2 brothers and I remain - and someday I hope to see them all again. Then I will be able to thank God for them, and also for His very evident love for me!  Happy Birthday, Joyce!

March Days

Growing up in my large family, we sometimes combined all the birthdays in a month and just had one party.  It saved money, etc, but not everyone was happy.  I was one of the many July birthdays and so I never really got my own party but it was okay.  Now that I have my own family, I am noticing that life is repeating itself - only now the dominant month seems to be May.  February is good, too, but today I decided to check out March, since my own wonderful husband celebrates his 76th birthday tomorrow.  What I found was that while my immediate family only has 2 birthdays and one anniversary this month, I could add 2 sisters and a niece and it becomes quite crowded.  My sister Marion was born on March 27, and she was the oldest of the siblings (one had died in infancy before Marion).  I was around 12 years younger than she was, yet we were so very much alike and had a special relationship from the very beginning.  I remember when I had rheumatic fever and had my tonsils out and missed a month of school -  Marion brought me special gifts and spent time with me.
After she married, I would spend lots of time at her house and we would go shopping, attend concerts and operas together.  Her husband took pictures of everything and everyone, and most of the pictures of me that still exist were taken by him when I visited them.  While I was in college, the friendship continued long-distance.  After my marriage, she and her husband would come to visit us, once by boat, and often by car.  Once we moved from New York, she would help us finance the few trips back for a Christmas, or other special times.  She also flew out to Oklahoma to visit us, and had tickets purchased for a bus trip to Iowa to see us, when her heart gave out unexpectedly and she passed away.  I love the memories I have with each sister - it's just that there was something special between Marion and me, and I will always treasure that!                                                                        
My other "March sister" was Shirley, born on the 11th, about 8 years (and 3 brothers) before me!  Shirley had a rough life because she contracted polio in her early teens and would go on to have several relapses in the subsequent 57 years before she died at age 70 (I think).  She had to wear braces, attend a special school, and miss out on a lot of living that teenagers and young people value.  She worked at a Sheltered Workshop for many years, and never married.  We kidded a lot about the fact that our most vivid memory of Shirley was how she liked to stand over the heat register, eating a raw onion, and drinking a Pepsi. But she was really as loving a sister as she could be with all that she faced.  She tried hard to guide my younger sister and me and "protect" us from the brothers.  Shirley never wrote much, never called on the phone, but was always so very glad to see me when we would visit back in New York.  I did love her and always wished I had known her better.

My March memories are mostly good and it is fun to look back and enjoy the past.  On March 15, though, I am especially happy because it means that for one more full year God has let me have my sweetheart with me!  I am very blessed and so I say, once more, "Happy Birthday" to my sweet husband, who turns 76 in this 2016!  How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways....

Adjusting my shoestrings

These days, life seems to be all about "adjusting".  I have had to adjust the distance of my computer in order to avoid some carpal tunnel-type arm issues and I have had trouble adjusting the shoelaces on my walking shoes.  If they are too tight on one shoe but not the other, then I don't walk normally and thus not as long or as frequently.  If the right shoe, especially, is too loose, then the right leg seems to want to compensate and becomes too tired too quickly.  It is important for my health that I walk regularly, so I am paying close attention to this issue.  It occurs to me, though, that lately I have had to "adjust" my Christianity more often, too, for my spiritual health.  Sometimes I feel like I have stepped back into Romans 7, where I find myself doing and saying things that I don't want to do or say.  What is that all about!?  I am long past that, or have been for many years - yet when I least expect it, an attitude appears and takes over, briefly, until I get control of it again.  Spiritually, the control over such things is found in Romans 8 (the power of the life-giving Spirit), just as my physical walking seems to be controlled by the strength of the shoelace.

So, lately, I have been adjusting my walk with Christ - checking on the strength and restraint of the Holy Spirit in my life.  He is willing and able to keep me walking straight and "normally" and regularly (for my health).  How did things become loose, allowing attitudes and behaviors to creep in that don't belong in my life?  Have I been lax in check-ups lately?  Have I allowed the cares of this world to influence me too much?  Have I let "the Deceiver" change me into a situational Christian, standing up only when it seems easy or popular and taking the easy way out the rest of the time?  These are questions I have asked myself and my prayer is that He will see my heart and know that more than anything I want to be like Him and never hinder His glory and witness in my world.  I don't want to be a casual Christian, either, where I am relaxed too much and never do the hard work that it takes to stay right with God.

Sometimes, when my right leg gets "wonky" and wobbly and uncomfortable, I wonder if there is an artery clogged that is hindering the blood flow and needs to be checked and opened.  So, spiritually, I am checking that the "artery" is not clogged that sends the blood between the Holy Spirit and me.  This is a life-giving issue and on this I am not willing to delay!  "Lord, hear my prayer and re-open any pathways that have been blocked between you and me!  Give me, again, the refreshing flow of your Presence and your Spirit  so that I can continue to grow and flourish in this wonderful life you have given to me.  Adjust the tension on the shoelaces of my spiritual walking shoes so that I am more productive and healthy and walking as I should..."  I am thinking that a healthy dose of  Romans 8 is in order for this Wednesday morning in January!