Needed Friendship

So, Frank and I are making new friends today.  In a location where we’d rather not be.  But a place where friends are desperately needed and greatly appreciated, just the same.

He’s having a rather lengthy medical test done which requires lots of waiting.  We arrived well before dawn but will still be sitting here through lunch we've been told.  As we sit patiently in the waiting area, people come and go. 

We’re hapless victims forced to listen to one of those constantly cycling news programs on the television in the corner.  (I honestly think I could quote some of the reports now.)

But the people-watching opportunities are limitless!

Oddly, one of the first people we met was another pastor of our area.  She was here to pray with church members coming in for a similar test.  We chatted for a while; then she prayed and left.

We’ve become friends with the technician who was here when we first arrived.  He has taken special care to make sure Frank is well informed with every step.  The nurses and even the desk staff are smiling and offering polite conversation now. 

Because many people are already fleeing the colder weather up north, an abundance of different accents swirl around our ears.  The air conditioning in this part of the clinic has to stay nearly frigid because of the special equipment.  A stack of blankets waits for the inevitable cold patients experience. 

Varying ages, styles of dress, reading interests, reading implements and even dispositions.  It’s a “people-watching” smorgasbord. 

Some have family or friends waiting with them.  One gentleman is obviously sight and hearing impaired.  It’s quite clear that his attendant is being paid for his services.  Very little patience and certainly none of the tenderness or attentiveness a family member would offer.

An older couple keeps sneaking nervous glances at one another.  When they get caught, they smile reassuringly, pat hands lovingly,  then go back to their reading material. Their mutual concern for one another is touching.

Several older men are waiting alone.  I can’t help but wonder if they’re widowed.  Some have a practiced appearance of nonchalance.  But each one has responded quickly when their name has been called.  Anticipation can’t be camouflaged.

I’ve only spotted two ladies waiting alone.   Women tend to be creatures of community.

We’ve even moved to the step of exchanging names with two other patients.  “George” is a military veteran and well traveled.  “Teresa” has never lived outside this county.  Both interesting people.

The one over-riding element among all these people in the waiting area?  A palpable sense of tension.  

“Tests” create a universal condition – uncertainty.  If we already had answers we’d be on a different floor receiving treatment.  This waiting area is reserved for those of us with questions.  Lots of unanswered questions.

Sitting here – totally helpless to make changes or to make things move any faster – I’m aware that at our core, we human beings are all very much the same. 

Take away the masks we chose to wear.  Put us in drafty hospital gowns.  Ask us to lie on cold gurneys.  And suddenly, we crave comfort – reassuring touch, understanding looks, meaningful whispers – comfort.

Please note, the comfort needed in this place has nothing to do with finances, physical appearance or social status. Whispers are free and often fleeting but are absolutely priceless for a frightened heart.  Touches may come from an unattractive hand but the warmth provided is all the same.  A look that says, “I see you!” can steady even the most tremulous soul. 

George must have been nervous because he was very talkative.  It didn’t take many comment exchanges for us to get straight to the heart of things.  “I know some people don’t believe.  But I DO believe in God!”  George's voice wavered slightly.  He expected a response.

“So do I, George!  And more importantly, He believes in you!”  I whispered my encouragement.  George rubbed his nose nervously; pretty sure he swiped at a tear.

Just then, the technician called his name.  George bolted up as quickly as his eighty-year-old limbs would allow.  He looked back briefly and smiled.  That smile of gratitude made me glad I had listened so patiently. 

Of course, I came today for Frank.  But I think, just maybe, God used my presence in this uncertain place to create a needed friendship for George, too. 

Comfort is welcome in every corner of this world.  Feel free to share some today.

Just Walking

We've lived in this house for almost ten years.  That's a real record for us.  The next most lengthy occupation was eight years in Asheville, NC.

Our home is modest by most standards.  We're situated in a small grouping of homes with our very own cul-de-sac at the end.  Our little association opens into a larger community of "neighborly" people.

For nine years, I've been walking down our street, out to the larger community, looping around and back home.  Almost always the same route in the mornings and a bit different trek in the evenings.

My walking habits have varied through the years.  Intensity and frequency depends largely on how close I might be to a wedding or reunion.

Oddly, I seldom ever take Gracie with me.  "Tho' she be small, she thinks she be mighty!"  And she has no hesitation picking fights with larger dogs lounging on their own piece of lawn.

Over the years, the girls and Frank have teased about my habit of waving or chatting with neighbors as I've passed by.  Truth is, they've been ruthless in their teasing based on a "greeting gone wrong" experience.

It happened while we still lived in NC.  I was urging them all (once again) to say hello when they spotted neighbors outside their homes.  At that very moment a teaching opportunity arose.  A man we seldom ever saw, stepped out onto his back porch.

I nodded at my little family with the all knowing mother nod that says, "Alright!  Watch and learn."

The man next door reached over for his newspaper then stood up and looked directly at us.  He paused for a split second.  Perfect!

In my sweetest, most cheery southern-esque drawl I loudly chirped, "Good Morning!  How are y'all doing?" (More mother-knows-best nodding ensued as we awaited his response.)

Imagine my shock when the fella scowled, growled something unintelligible, and shuffled back into his house.  The dismissive slam of his porch door sent a clear message, "Leave me alone, you nosy lady!"

We all stood with eyes wide in disbelief.  Suddenly, Frank and the girls burst into gales of uncontrollable laughter.  He pulled my forlorn self into a comforting bear hug.  

That one incident continues to lead to family members waving randomly at walls or fences and crooning, "How are y'all doing?!" Then everyone bursts into laughter.

Okay, I get it.  Not everyone wants to be friendly.  But I haven't let that one little obstacle stand in my way!  My calling is clear - greet the neighbors and let them know you want to connect.

So as I walk, I wave and talk to those showing any interest whatsoever.

But I also pray.  I pray over the homes of people I don't even know.  I figure that if the Lord brings the house to my attention, there's a reason.  The occupants may need courage or hope.  Their marriage may be in trouble or their children may be struggling.  He knows. 

Believe it or not, when I say hello, some neighbors still give a response similar to that of the guy in Asheville.  Some people hear me but turn and walk in the other direction.  Some wave in return but quickly look away indicating to me, "Don't talk to me!"

I inadvertently called one neighbor "Steve" for a while.  He stopped me one day and snapped, "KEITH!"

"What did you say?" I asked with my biggest, engaging smile.

"My name is KEITH!  Not Steve."  He glared at me.

"Oh, I'm so sorry.  Um, I'll try to remember for next time I see you, Keith.  Thanks."  I walked away a little hurt and started repeating for myself, "Keith with teeth.  Keith with teeth."

Word association games help me remember names.  "Keith with teeth" worked beautifully.  And about six months later, my short chats and quick hellos yielded a great opportunity.  "Keith with teeth" had a serious family need.  (Apparently all our nearest neighbors refer to Frank as "The Preacher.")  Keith asked that Frank and I pray for his family.

We stopped and prayed right there in the driveway! 

One of the "look away" fellas finally waved last year.  I considered that as another major break-through.  Then about six months ago, we learned his mother had died and that he felt totally alone.

It hasn't led to dinner yet (he turned that invitation down.) But he does greet us first now.  Some of our Sunday evening strolls have turned into lengthy conversations about hunting or fishing or travel; whatever is on his mind.  And he even went so far as to tease a little recently.

I have a list on my refrigerator of all the neighbors I can name.  It reminds me to pray for them.

Faith is a special needs student I met on an early morning walk.   Extremely shy, it was hard for her to look at me the first few times I said hello.

But eventually, I would round the corner and find her waving eagerly and calling out,  "Hello!  Hello!  How are you?"  She would almost bubble.  Faith and her family moved away this summer.  I find myself still praying for her as I pass her former home.

Who knew that just walking could yield so many opportunities to let people know they matter?  Oh, wait.  I think there was Someone else who discovered this form of ministry long before me.  Like 2000 years ago.

Try taking a look around your own "neighborhood" with new eyes.   It doesn't matter whether you're more comfortable with Hello!  Hi Y'all!  Howdy!  or a simple Good Morning!  The important thing is that you just walk......and find a way to let others know you care.

Listening and Learning

Is it possible that we're entering the final quarter of the year?!

Christmas carols are playing in our office already!  I don't think I'm ready just yet.  But ready or not - here we go!  Life around these parts is moving quickly.  Once school started, we were "Game On!"

Since I haven't had time to write a special blog post, I've just included another story from the book I'm working on.  This chapter talks about the importance of being a person who listens carefully to others.  Hope you enjoy the story:

  

Dear friends, some of us only communicate one way. We need to be listening more than we’re speaking.

Right after college, I shared an apartment with a great young lady named Tricia.  Tricia knew the power of silence. Tricia was a gift to me that I didn’t like.

You see, I was very out going and bubbly.  I was also very bad about saying what everyone else in the circle was thinking. You know those people? Everybody is standing around, talking and suddenly there’s this hesitant pause.  Invariably, someone jumps in with, “Blah, blah, blah!”

Everyone else, embarrassed, begins looking around with a shocked expression.  A few giggle nervously.  Some cover their mouths.

The blatant one announces, “What?!  You were all thinking it but you just didn’t have the nerve to say it!"

Well that was me! Until Tricia…...

Tricia taught me that in situations like that, everyone else had enough sense to keep their mouth shut. But not me!  Oh, no! I had to just say it right out. I felt compelled to say it. What I had marked as bravery, Tricia explained was stupidity!

One day, I went to Tricia and was telling her about a plan I had. “I think it would be smart for me to……blah, blah, blah!”  (I can’t even remember the details of the plan now.)

Tricia just stood and looked at me, with this sweet smile.  Not fake, it was a sweet smile but because she didn’t say, “Uh huh!  That’s a great idea!”,  I felt compelled to help her understand the value of this wonderful plan.

Really, it wasn’t a great plan but I just wanted her to agree and help me move forward in it.  So I persisted, “And this is what I want to do.”  

Trish just kept looking at me. Which started to aggravate the daylights out of me. I mean even if you don’t agree, just say, “Ok!” and go on.

No, no, no… Trish was helping me. And I didn’t want to be helped.   

I babbled all over myself trying to convince her about my idea.  But she understood the power of silence.  She patiently listened until I talked myself out of a potentially disastrous situation.

Tricia, a lifetime friend, taught me the important lesson that listeners learn.

Scripture has a little something to say about this too.  

1Thessalonians 4:11, “And make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: you should mind your own business.” Boy that’s pretty direct isn’t it?  “Mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you.”

In another version that first part reads, "Study to be QUIET!"  (Emphasis mine.)

Some days, I have to literally lay a finger over my lips to keep myself from speaking too quickly.  But oh the things I've learned over the years by simply listening more than I talk.

The Right Season

Dear Friends,

I have not fallen off the face of the earth!  But I HAVE been talking with a knowledgeable person about a book.  As in, writing one.  As in, being a published author.  As in, having my face and name on the cover.  As in......  Well, you get the idea.

These conversations have been interesting/informative.  But this month they got a little scarey; they wanted to see some material.  That meant I had to hustle to transcribe a sermon and polish it up a bit.  After multiple days of long hours, I finally hit the "Send" button.

That small act felt a lot like hitting the post button for this blog the first time.  "What will people think?  Will they enjoy reading what I've written?  Will it benefit anyone?"  And the worst thought of all, "Will they say it's nice only to keep from hurting my feelings?!"  Sigh!

Putting your thoughts on paper and handing them to others for consideration can be frightening!

The story below is one I used to illustrate a point in the sermon transcription I sent the publisher.  Let me know what you think.  And thank you for continuing to check in on Embrace the Grace! 
 

(Please remember this is from a sermon I preached.  The story explains why I believe that life is a journey with many twists, turns and decisions to be made along the way.)

 

This journey is also full of seasons.  In Galatians 6:9 we read, “Do not become weary in doing good, you will reap in due season if you do not give up.”

You will reap.  Some of you need to jot that down.

Ecclesiastes 3:1, “For everything there is a season.”

The concept of “seasons” is especially true for women.  I’ve always enjoyed working with women.  Teaching Bible studies; leading prayer groups; planning events; speaking for conferences and retreats.  I love it all!

As a very young pastor’s wife, our state women’s director took me under her wing and began to train me.  She added me to her team of leaders and I blossomed! 

When you combine my work ethic, my delight in helping others and her need for youthful excitement on her team – well, you get the picture.  It was meant to be a great situation.  But when you allow giftings to get out of balance, they become a train wreck in the making.

I began spending longer and longer hours working on the various projects.  Juggling here and there to create time.  Sometimes the events required that I be away from home for several days.  Frank helped when he could. But most often, I stole time for these efforts from my girls. 

“Don’t bother me right now, Sweetie.  Mom’s making calls about the next meeting.”  “I’ll take care of that later.  There’s a deadline for this!”  “You just watch this one short movie and I’ll be finished.”

And that was mild.  More often, I simply had no reserve energy left for being patient with the most important gifts God had given to me.   I smiled and taught and listened to everyone else.  I worked to meet the needs of everyone else before offering those same attentions to my family.   

After a few years of this, there came a season change.  God began gently speaking to me about resigning my spot on the leadership team.  I knew His voice.  I recognized His nudge. 

But instead of obeying, I negotiated.  “I’ll ask to be cut back on my responsibilities.  The director won’t mind that.  I love being part of this team, Lord!  It’s a great ministry outlet for me.  Surely, YOU meant for me to serve here.  You made me a leader by nature.  YOU provided this opportunity!”

And so it went.  But God saw much further down the road than I could see.  He heard my deepest prayer – to have a healthy family.  And He knew I couldn’t achieve that on the path I was traveling.

Jacob’s wrestling match with the angel looked a lot like what I was experiencing as I tried to find a compromise point.

“Lord, please!  Don’t ask me to give this up.  This opportunity may never come my way again.”

Finally, a friend dropped by to visit me one afternoon.  I stopped everything in order to give her my full attention.  The visit was so unexpected. I knew she must have some serious need that would require my best advice and most intense prayer!

She wasted no time in getting right to the point.  “Sheri,” she looked me right in the eye.  “I’ve been sent here by the Lord to tell you something.”

It wasn’t exactly the opening I’d imagined; but she had my attention.

“There is something you’re supposed to give up.  And it’s important that you do it right away.  He hasn’t told me what it is.  I just know this is urgent.  That’s why I had to see you today.”

Tears sprang to my eyes and began to roll onto my blushing cheeks. 

She reached for my hand, afraid she had offended me.  “Are you okay?”

“I know exactly what I have to give up, Diane.  I’ve been struggling with it because I don’t want to.  But this helps me know I must obey.  Thank you for taking the risk of talking with me like this.”

My friend prayed for me, then left.  I picked up the phone right away and called the women’s director to resign my post.  Peace flooded my heart.   

For about seven years, I had nothing to do with women’s ministry.  It was a quiet; dormant time for me.  Not easy at all.  But I knew my choice had been the right one.

I didn’t understand about seasons then.  I thought I would never serve in that capacity ever again.  But remember, obedience to God is always rewarded! 

I have now travelled all over this country and to many foreign nations preaching and teaching.  I’ve worked with larger groups and experienced so much more as a leader than I could ever have imagined then.   

Obedience in that season brought a more bountiful harvest in this season! 

(Hope you found some encouragement in this story.  I'd love to hear your thoughts.)

Thoughts of Israel

Over the past few days, several things have happened that blended perfectly and sent my heart right back to Israel!

Although our trip took place over four months ago, I doubt I will ever be the same.  The sights, sounds, people, landscape, historical locations.  It all lives in me now.  So much more than a trip; Israel is an experience.

And thanks to our wonderful congregation, Frank and I experienced it together!

I had started reading a biography of Elie Wiesel, the great voice for those who survived the Holocaust.  "My goal," he wrote "is always the same: to invoke the past as a shield for the future..."

Banished to Auschwitz as a fifteen year old boy, Wiesel miraculously survived the horrors.  He went on to travel the world; warning of the extreme evil lurking in man's heart when unchecked by a true moral compass.

While reading, I found myself spellbound by the descriptions of Jewish life, traditions and faith.  As the author wrote about Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, I could clearly see the places they mentioned.  Vivid memories of our own experiences washed over me.

Then a family friend came to visit over the weekend.  Chad is a bright young man who studies people and politics.  It's always fun talking with him; getting a peek into the thought processes of a young, twenty-something.

His first questions for me were about our trip to Israel.  He plans to experience the Holy Land himself some day.  So we spent over an hour excitedly discussing the April pilgrimage.

Aware that most people can only absorb so much of my enthusiasm, I would end each story with, "Okay!  That's enough.  I don't mean to bore you."

Then Chad would ask another question sending me off into "just one more story!"

The final marker was Frank's sermon on Sunday morning.  He talked of David who dared to take on the giant, Goliath.  It took all my "pastor's wife discipline" to keep tracking with the sermon.

In a split second, I was transported back to the hillside where Frank and I stood looking down on the Valley of Elah - the very location where the story took place.  I felt the breeze and heard the birds chirping.  Frank's voice rang clearly (in my mind) as he read the Hebrew/English version of "Hashiem's Divine Intervention." 

Perhaps it's time for me to share some stories of those marvelous memories here.  Brace yourself - I fear the dam of restraint may have broken!   

Two Smiles

Life has such sharp contrast some days.

Yesterday was one of those for me.

Madison did NOT want to sit in her cute little bouncy seat while dad finished getting Noah dressed.  So Noni rescued her and became the bouncy seat substitute.

I sat contentedly on the back porch; all the while, patting the object of my affection.  Singing.  Talking.  Listening to the traffic.  Praying.  Kissing the sweet bald head.   Making eye contact with Dad as he peeked in to make sure we were okay.

And just before she had to move on to her next appointment, Madi rewarded my patience with a HUGE smile!  She looked me right in the eyes.......and Smiled!

The kind of smile that melts the hearts of all grandparents.  The kind of smile that sends you scrambling for your money and asking,  "What does this angel need that I can provide?!"  The kind of smile that brings tears to the eyes of the recipient.

Deep contented sigh!  And the day rolled on.

About two hours later found me sitting by the bedside of one of our much loved church members.  We had received the call Wednesday after Bible study that Rev. Mulvaney had taken a turn for the worse.  Frank went right to the nursing home to be with the family.

Rev. Mulvaney and his wife retired many years ago from pastoral ministry.  They had even served as pastors at Garden Grove Church temporarily; long before we came on the scene.  Two of the finest people you'd ever want to meet.  So of course, we wanted to be there.

But Thursday, Frank had to be out of town for a conference.  And the family had stayed until late into the night.  So no one was there when I slipped into the darkened room of our dear friend.

By quietly moving a chair close to the hospital bed, I was able to touch his arm.  His once vibrant and mischievous blue eyes were open only a tiny bit; not moving or blinking.  His breathing was steady but shallow.   No response as I greeted him.

Research has proven that people nearing the end of their earthly journey lose their hearing last of all.  So Frank has taught me to sing or read scripture when we visit, even if the dying person can't acknowledge you.  They still hear you.

And so I sat contentedly, patting the arm of my friend.  Singing.  Talking.  Listening to the traffic in the hallway.  Praying.  I even put a kiss on his sweet bald head.  Making eye contact with nurses as they peeked in to make sure we were okay.

During one song, his chin moved ever so slightly; right in rhythm.  I knew he was singing the old hymn with me.  And I did see one eyebrow raise slightly; like an "Amen!" as I finished quoting Psalm 23.

But the most marvelous moment came just before I had to leave.

I began to rehearse aloud the joys that wait for us when we finally reach Heaven as believers.  The delight and awe we will surely feel when we meet Christ Jesus.   The majesty and wonder and gratitude that will mark those first moments.  How marvelous to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

And that's when it happened.

Rev. Mulvaney had laid perfectly still for nearly an hour.  His only movements were almost imperceptible.  But just then, his eyes shot open wide.  His mouth formed an "Oh!"  And he gasped. There was the slightest hint of a smile. 

His gaze was fixed on something far beyond me.  The air was electric!  I don't mind telling you, I feel sure he was being given a glimpse of the great joy waiting for all those who die in Christ.

Such a holy experience!

It was over almost as quickly as it began.

Once again the eyes were still; the breathing shallow.  But tears stung my own eyes and the lump in my throat made it difficult to sing the next song.  His reaction to that glimpse, burned forever in my memory.

We just got the call an hour ago that our dear friend has gone to be with his Savior.  It's sad for us.  But we are delighted for him.  No longer sick.  No longer afraid.  

Two smiles.

One brand new.  One aged by many miles of life.  Yet both powerful in their own way.

Ah, the contrast in a day!   May you be blessed to experience life fully - Shabbat Shalom!

Yard Work

Frank and I have spent most of our day working in the yard.

We've planted two trailing vines, an aloe and a few low shrubs.  (All snagged from the clearance bin in the garden center.)  We re-potted two plants for the entryway, trimmed multiple crepe myrtles and dug up a small tree that has refused to grow for six years now.   I painted a trellis to help waterproof it and Frank mowed the yard.

Doesn't it sound like a lovely, even romantic sort of day?

Don't you envision two people joyfully chatting away while they work together to beautify their home?  The workers - clad in crisp cotton shorts, garden gloves and floppy hats - smile at one another when they pause to sip glasses of water.

Perhaps you can even imagine a mint leaf floating in one of the ice cubes.

Yeah, well!

This is a blog written by a real person; not someone writing an ad for a gardening magazine.

Allow me to begin again -

Frank and I have spent most of our day working in the yard.

Even now, Frank is working feverishly on the final touches; racing a rain cloud that threatens to break open at any moment.  I'm typing with dirt so far under my fingernails it may be next week before they're normal again. 

We haven't been able to get to this job for weeks because of a crazy, busy schedule and because of unseasonable amounts of rain!

We're both displaying a few of the more minor symptoms of heatstroke.  It is August in Florida, you know. 

My feet are stinging from the ant bites I sustained while battling Antman's family for custody of my geranium pots.  And I'm not sure if I'll be able to accurately proof-read this because of the fumes I breathed while weather-proofing the seven foot tall trellis.

Top off all that excitement with the real truth of our oh-so-romantic gardening efforts......  Please remember that Frank and I are both pretty headstrong, leader-type people.  We both have a plan for almost any and all activities we share.

Those plans are seldom ever the same!

We started arguing about ten minutes in to our first task.

"Honey, I thought you went to Lowe's to buy post-hole diggers.  It would have made this so much easier for you,"  said the concerned wife.

"No.  The shovel was cheaper."  Frugal husband's response.  "Where do you want these vines?"

"Well, I thought you'd want to move the trellis from here so we can waterproof it first.  And won't that make it easier to plant the vines?"  Testy wife.

"Fine.  Just tell me what you want them and I'll do it."  Frustrated husband.

"Why are you putting the vine a foot away from the trellis, honey?  We want it to grow on the trellis, right?"  Snippy wife.

"Show me where you think the vine should go!"  Aggravated husband.

Frank and I managed to argue about each of the tasks I listed above.

 "Now, Sheri!  Surely you didn't argue over each and every one of the jobs!"

Yes, I'm here to confess to you, dear reader that we managed to find something we disagreed about with each one of the many yard-esque responsibilities needing completion.

Just how deeply do you place plants being re-potted?

Do you begin painting at the top inside or top outside of a trellis?

Is that plant already dead or simply dormant from lack of attention?

Is it really necessary to trim crepe myrtles completely to the branch?

Should one wash off the driveway or sweep the driveway?

And oh, my word!  The discussion we had about whether or not to give the uncooperative tree another year!  I'll leave that for your imagination.

But when I drug my hot, nasty self inside to get a shower, I remembered another gardening project.  And that memory melted all the frustration.

I remembered how my prized flower garden was lost in a freeze six years ago.  The loss was felt keenly because it happened the month after my mom passed away.

Then two weeks later, I made a trip to Pensacola for the funeral of a beloved friend.  My grief quotient was nearing its limit.

But when I got home, I discovered that the man who always seems to have a plan different from mine, also knows what speaks to my heart.

While I was away, he enlisted the help of a friend at church.  He spent far too much money and time.  But when I stepped out the back door, I discovered a brand new flower garden......complete with a lovely little fountain and garden chimes.

Bright colors and joyful sounds breathed hope back into my weary soul.  And I felt loved.

Isn't it wonderful when joyful memories overtake mundane life?  I think I'll choose to use the paintbrush of grace to cover the bickering of today.  Experience has taught me that marriages grow better that way.

Yep, Frank and I have spent most of our day working in the yard.  And we have good things to show for it.