The Iced Tea Fairy

It's been a tough haul lately. Since Mom's GI bleed, two years ago on Labor Day, she has needed around the clock hands-on care. Before the pandemic, we had amazing home health for overnight visits and my girlfriend, Geri,  helped by letting us slip out for dinner or a movie. But since mid-March, it's been pretty much  me, 24/7. I'm up and down with Mom all night and just like as I did when my sons were babies, I nap when she does. My goal is survival. 

Add to that the very real stress over our current situation. The news cycle constantly reports the latest pandemic news, the latest tweet, the latest clash.  Facebook, which was once my connection to the outside world, has become a source of pain and misunderstanding. On top of it all, our pug got bit by a copperhead! It's enough to make a girl want to run far, far away from home! 

BUT...

The unexpected kindnesses of friends keep me going. 

Anybody that knows me well, knows I have a terrible fondness for Bojangles Iced Tea. I know, it's terrible for me and pre-pandemic, I tried to ration my iced teas to once every week or two, usually when running a string of errands. The sugar high and the hit off caffeine, delivered in ice cold swallows, light up all the happy places in my brain. It's a delicious, occasional boost. 

But pandemic=no Bo drive-through trips. 

So imagine my delight, when, as I exit the house to get my mail from the mailbox or take out the trash, andI find on my front porch a fresh half gallon of Bojangles iced tea! Just out of the blue! Completely unexpected. I sweep it up like a long lost love, and dash inside. I use my favorite Tervis, fill with ice and pour out  a sparkling glassful. Then - ahhhh - pure pleasure! 

My tea is delivered by an iced tea fairy. I know who the tea fairy is - a long-time friend that I've know since my boys were in elementary school. She is source of many kindnesses and much thoughtfulness. She checks in regularity and wants to know how I AND my mom are doing. I always text her when I discover the iced tea fairy has dropped by and if too much time has passed, she'll text me to tell me to check the porch.  A social distanced surprise! 

But it goes far beyond that iced tea. It's caring, remembrance, contact and genuine concern. And that iced tea is truly a drink of kindness. 

I have other fairies that keep us going during this pandemic. The friends who regularly send cards to my mom light her up. April, Charlotte, Marge, and Pat are regular card and postcard senders. Others send her a card less frequently - and they are so appreciated. Geri, Nancy, and my kids' middle school science teacher, keep me occupied with Words with Friends. I'm in a group text with 4 girlfriends that keeps me laughing. And Geri video-calls me frequently.  And on Friday, I had the sheer joy of a phone call from the daughter of one of Mom's friends,  a text from one of Mom's former caregivers, and messenger messages from one of my nephews checking on her. Each and every gesture fills me - and Mom - with the a joy and a sweetness as good as the one I get from Bojangles Iced Tea. 

Kindness is how we will get through whatever comes next. Thoughtfulness and checking in. Sharing what we have and caring about other people. I pledge to do a better job of checking in on my friends. I can't do much, but I can text, call, or send a card. 

Things that divide us abound: mask policy, reopening strategy, social distancing, and a two party system that constantly sets us at odds with one another. But those only distract us from what is really important: our family, our friends, our neighborhoods and communities. If we put people first - we will never go wrong, never get sidetracked in our faith by a  society that threatens to spiral out of control. There's so much we can not  control. But we CAN control the compassion, care, respect, affection and love we feel for those that are so important to us. 

Shakespeare was onto to something when he coined the term "milk of  human kindness." Only now, in the thick of the pandemic, I'm very happy to enjoy "the Bojangles Tea of human kindness." Thank you, Jo! 

Therefore, encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.

                                                                                           - 1 Thessalonians 5:11 ESV

Sunday School Notes from Mary Frances

Jack and Mary Frances working a Seaboard UMC Yardsale in 2004

My mom taught Sunday School at Seaboard United Methodist Church for over 50 years. Part of the time she taught the teenage class, but as our membership dwindled, she taught the whole church. She loved the Standard Lesson Commentary as well as Tarbell's, but her lessons were sprinkled with other readings as well, articles from the news, poems, bits of wisdom. She could be found every Saturday in our quiet front room (the "parlor") with books and papers scattered around her. She made copious notes and put her heart into her efforts and it showed. Her former students love her for it still. 

During this time at home, I've attacked some of my boxes of saved letters and mementos and came across these simple index cards, which I'm sure were part of a lesson. Her handwriting is typical of her style,  a little on the rough side despite being an elementary school teacher. She blamed it on her own school aged forced conversion from left handed to right  handed.  She passed these notes on to me to use in my own Sunday School classroom years ago. 

I've had a lifetime of reading Mom's writing so I'm adding a transcript of each card; 

Indulgence says "Drink your way out."

Philosophy says "Think your way out."

Science says "Invent your way out."

Industry says "Work your way out."

Communism says "Strike your way out."

Militarism says "Fight your way out."

Christ says "I AM THE WAY OUT!"

God is FOR us - that is good.

God is WITH us - that is better.

God is IN us - that is best!

Fear knocked on the door

Faith answered

There was no one there!

Take off a dirty shirt and put on a clean one on. That's what Jesus did to my heart. 

Mom always ended her lessons with the phrase "Life is interesting!" 

And it is! 

Sons and daughters, come and listen and let me teach you the importance of trusting and fearing the Lord. - Psalms 34:11

Looking for Christ in the time of COVID.

When I think community, I think gatherings- at churches, wedding venues, barbecues, friend's family rooms, and restaurants. As a Methodist, who's eaten many a deviled egg and many a jello salad, I think food. As a mother, I think of family stretched around my dining room table playing board games, or opening gifts on birthdays and holidays. But mostly, I think of people. My people. My family.  My friends. My church family. My community. 

But when a virus too small to be seen, invaded our country, our air, and our bodies, all that changed. And we grieved the loss of hugs and handshakes, shared laughter and shared food. 

But love, which is the glue that sticks our communities together, always finds a way. 

I got a message on my Facebook feed today from a hometown friend whose family has known my family for decades too numerous to count. Claire went to the town cemetery, unasked, and to the the Stephenson family plot. There she painstakingly cleaned weeds and debris off of the foot stone of my mom's only sibling, who was lost in World War II. Edward's grave sits over in the corner and catches more grass cuttings and leaves than other parts of the plot and I'm sure it was a muddy mess. And when she was done, she added a small American flag. Mom and I were beyond touched at this act of kindness on Memorial Day weekend. That someone remembered. That someone cared. 

As I reflected throughout the day, I thought about another friend, Tim, whose family is also and dear to our hearts. He trims the grass in our plot whenever he comes over to attend to his mom's grave. Another someone who remembers. Another someone who cares. 

And isn't that the best kind of community? Having someone who shares the precious memory of a beloved family member? 

COVID-19  has changed our priorities. It's reinforced the value of those people, near and far, that make the web of love that lifts and supports us. Whether a card for my Mom (thanks Charlotte, Pat, Laura, Ann, Sheila, Theresa, Jo, Joan, Marge and folks too numerous to list!) or fresh baked cupcakes or cookies (Nancy!) or chocolate for the chocolate monster that lives with me (Fran, Ann, Camp) I clearly see each act as an act of love, fellowship, and togetherness. 

It's easy to see Christ in the time of COVID-19. Christ is there in the widower farmer who sends his PPE to hospital staff. He's there is the New Yorkers who bang their pots and pans at shift change every night. He helps the children who festoon our sidewalk with chalk greetings and art. Christ is with the nurse with deep grooves in her face from her N95 and equally with the Instacart shopper who tries to find just the right groceries for a hungry family. Christ works in food banks and COVID testing sites. I hear Christ when my neighbor calls to see if I need something at the grocery store. And I see Christ weekly at my church ZOOM services, in each and every smile. And Christ is there every time someone puts on a mask.

Because I'll tell you, there is evil in this world. And it's a loud screeching monster that demands to be seen. It spits on grocery store workers and screams at police officers. It tries to turn a virus into something that divides us as a people.  It hoards toilet paper and  buys every cut of meat available. And unfortunately, it's in the news. "If it bleeds, it leads" and in this pandemic the beast is causing bleeding everywhere. It's greed, selfishness, and hate. It loves to divide, cause resentment, cause pain.  It thrives on misinformation and blame.

But this Memorial Day, I invite you to mute the evil. Look beyond it. Look for the stories of good. And perhaps most of all, look close by. Look to your community. To friends performing simple acts of love that whisper and tell us that Christ is alive and with us every day. And most importantly, pass on those acts of love. Because, like passing of the peace or the exchange of welcoming hugs, performing an act of love for someone else, is the best way to share Christ with others. Which always and everywhere quiets the beast. 

Colossians 3:12-14 (NIV)

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

Good Friday and a Call for Resurrection

 Spire of the Seaboard Baptist Church 

On this darkest day of the Christian calendar, it is hard not to reflect on the darkness I see in the world today. I am especially disheartened by the lack of compassion I see. People I care about seem to have tossed out the tenets of our faith like a used glove in a supermarket parking lot. I invite you to inventory your behavior as we move toward Easter and...

RESURRECT your faith in the Risen Christ...
RESURRECT your adherence to His teachings...
RESURRECT your compassion for your fellow man, including those sick and ailing, those vulnerable and afraid, those manning our hospitals, grocery stores, postal trucks, garbage trucks,delivery services, transfer trucks...
RESURRECT your aspiration to be part of the good in the world...
RESURRECT your care for the hungry, the sick, the incarcerated...
RESURRECT the desire to speak words of encouragement and truth...
RESURRECT fairness, not hoarding...
RESURRECT caring for your neighbor, whether next door or in New York, the hotspot of the world...
RESURRECT behaviors that put the health of others, including vulnerable persons, first...
RESURRECT respect for those who do not share your personal faith or political belief, seeing them as individuals worthy of it...
RESURRECT your generosity, whether that means sharing toilet paper or giving financially...
RESURRECT your desire to strengthen your faith and thereby those around you by striving to be more like Christ.
RESURRECT LOVE.

John 18::30 

When Jesus had received the wine, he said, "It is finished." Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

Father, 

We recognize again today the great sacrifice you made for our sins. Still, we yet fall far short of what and who we can be in your earthly kingdom. Please, once again, forgive our sins, and wash us clean. This time of fear and the unknown may be the greatest challenge of our lives. Help us to use this season for self-reflection and study, to see our shortfalls and inadequacies, to soften our hearts, and to nurture the presence of the Holy Spirit who, when invited, can live in and through us daily. Amen 

Going Full Circle

Nat squandering his future inheritance. 

I have often remarked that I was raised by "Children of the Depression." In my Mom's own quaint turn of phrase, she and Dad were "tight as Dick's hatband." Fiscally conservative. Very.

But that was okay. We had what we needed. We never wanted for anything. We may have been slower to adopt expensive new things like color TV or air conditioning because we used what we had. The black and white TV and attic fan were fine, really.

"Using what we had" was a certain way to live and I find that in this time of sheltering in place, I am using lessons I previously ignored.

1. Conserve paper towels. I learned from my mom to use Bounty Select-a-Size, because why use a whole paper towel when a half paper towel will do? And then, tear the half paper towel in half again. Don't use more than you need.

2. Save empty milk jugs. At home, this came in handy as my Dad taught me how to "jug-fish". (By which you hang a fishing line and hook off of an empty capped milk jug. Drop several in a pond and chill in the boat while you wait for one to bob. Then row fast and pull in supper. ) I'm not really sure why I'm saving milk jugs. I do admit I have several of them filled with water and languishing in my empty bathtub. I mean, I don't think corona virus will affect our water supply, but hey,everybody was buying water and well, GRANDCHILD OF THE DEPRESSION.

3. Don't throw away plastic bread bags. On autopilot, I found myself shaking the crumbs out of a plastic bread bag, folding it  nicely and securing with its twist tie. WHY?

4. Hoard unused medicine. When I helped Mom clean out her kitchen some years ago I found prescription medicine older than I was. This week, a Duke Wellness chick called to step me through safety concerns for a 94 year old, i.e. "Do you have a walker, do you have a wheelchair?" Then  she asked "Do you have EXPIRED prescription medicine." "OF COURSE I HAVE EXPIRED PRESCRIPTION MEDICINE!" I mean, really, I've read my share of post-apocalyptic fiction. Medicine is always hard to come by. I mean even  in Outlander, HELLO!  CLAIRE HAS TO GROWN BREAD MOLD TO TRY TO MAKE PENICILLIN. , I don't have the skills to do that, but I can hang onto  unused doxycycline from 2017.

5. Eat every bit of prepared food. Mom was always two meals behind the rest of us, eating leftovers while everyone had a freshly cooked entree. Last week when I found myself having two week old vegetable soup, stale corn chips, and a dried out mandarin for lunch I saw the light.  I'll never scoff at leftovers again.

I am sure I will realize I have adopted other habits as the weeks of our shelter-in-place order roll by. Maybe I will take up ironing wrapping paper or saving paper towel rolls and pie tins. In the meantime, I'm glad I gave up my hair color the end of last year and I seem to have given up snacking to conserve food, so there are definitely some good Jack/Mary Frances behaviors I'm adopting.

In the meantime, are you really throwing that away?

PS - bonus content - if you don't know Mike Cross's Granny's Milk Cartons, please give it a listen. Really.

Practice what you Preach

Miss Bertha's house in recent years. In my youth, there were more trees, and rockers on the porch.

Mom has always been someone to see the best in people.

Miss Bertha, the elderly widow next door, despised TV. She kept up to date on state and local happenings in the News and Observer. She kept up with the local "news"  after supper on her front porch. As the broiling summer days cooled down to a bearable temp, and the sky turned inky and full of stars, people gathered on her broad front porch, sitting in creaky rockers or sprawling on her front stoop. Kids, like me, caught lightening bugs, skipping barefoot, while the adults talked.

A lot of "local news" was exchanged on that porch and the Seaboard residents that just happened to be strolling past were always ready to hear the latest. "He said this"  or "She dated who" or "Can you believe he said that?" But amid the eager chatter, Mary Frances always remained nonplussed. She had her own assessments, and they were usually oddly out of tune with the conversation.

"Well, I don't think that's right (accurate.)"
 "I'm sure she didn't mean it."
"You don't know he was drinking."

Miss Bertha held that it was no point in telling Mary Frances anything good; she always made the subject of gossip to be better than they actually were.

What really happened in this circumstances was always impossible to know. Just as impossible as trying to determine what was in a person's heart. And that's always been the challenge for people, and especially hard for Christians. 'Cause we show up spit polished on Sunday morning, but Saturday night we mighta tied one on with our best friend's husband at the juke joint down the road. Who would know?  (Maybe Bubba, but I guarantee, he's keeping mum, too.)

Most of the really deep spiritual stuff is just as invisible. What is in on our heart? Are we lusting after our neighbor's spouse or cussing a big "GD" (in 60's speak) at the driver in the next car? It's a very secretive business. Even those Pharisees who prayed on the street corner never revealed their truest selves.

But now, people, we have a chance to live out our faith. To obey the most simple command, which also happens to be the most difficult to obey. Yep, the Golden Rule. Matthew 7:12.

So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.  

See, we've been asked to practice Social Distancing. And yes, that's a fancy way to say to stay your butt at home. And yes, yes, - the nurses, doctors, pharmacists of you, those who work in factories, or at the CVS, or guy who picks up my garage, I know that's not a choice, I get it. BUT, it means DON'T GO to the PNC Arena for a concert. It means DON'T GO on spring break and gather like fleas on a bloodhound. It's means DON'T sit cheek to cheek around your firepit with a backyard full of bros. 

It does mean keep yourself at home, and away from others. Yes, it'd be GREAT if you don't get COVID19, really excellent - and I hope and pray you don't. But the REAL REASON to practice Social Distancing is that is you find yourself with a thermometer under your tongue and sweat on your brow and an increasing bad cough that you can keep it to yourself, or at the worst, to your fellow "social distancers." It means you are staying at home for the "other guy." The folks in your neighborhood, or grocery store, or any where else. You do it for truly altruistic reasons.  You do it for the "others." And you do it so that the need doesn't overrun the capacity of your local health care system. The chart below shows the real strength of this idea.  

So, if you really care about others,  if you really want to practice what you preach, put your fanny where your heart is, AT HOME. I'm pretty much sure that's what Jesus Would Do. 

And PS, He would not have hoarded Charmin, either.  Leave some for others. 

Top O' the Morning! Saint Patrick's Breastplate Prayer

I have vivid memories of a small town upbringing that include going to a joint Baptist/Methodist Vacation Bible School. Our assembly and classes were held in the icy cold Seaboard Baptist Church sanctuary.  For a girl whose own home was hot as a firecracker, the cool chilled sacred quiet was as refreshing as a glass of fresh brewed iced tea.

Craft time was a different story. We went outside (to prevent making a mess, natch) and made wondrous things. No pipe-cleaner creations during those days, but real crafts. I remember diligently making a birdhouse and sloppily painting it white. And I especially remember the senior gentleman who, is in what was a once was a crisp short sleeved shirt,  guided us in our endeavers in the broiling heat. Precious Thurmond Bullock guided our youthful attempts at carpentry, mopping sweat all the while.

One year, we made a little plaque. We were given elegant precut wooden pieces which we dutifully sanded and painted black. And then, on top, we mod-podged a piece of paper with a prayer written in an elegant medieval looking font. Years later, I realized it was the famous prayer called St. Patrick's Breastplate. You can read more about it here as well as the full text: Saint Patrick's Breastplate

A small portion goes like this:

This prayer is as powerful today as it was for the author all those years ago. In times of trouble, we feel our humanity and our frailty. But as the author knew then, and we know now, the presence of God is always with us.

My sister, suffered great debilitating pain. Yet after a hospitalization in which she was wrestled with unthinkable agony, she shared that even in her lowest darkest moments of torment she felt the presence of, in the language of her faith, The Comfortor.

It is easy to feel we are walking the road alone. I have had a few sleepless nights wondering "what if?"  But we aren't alone. We aren't. Ever. Alone.

Strong  or weak, young or old, well or ill, afraid or secure, we are cloaked in the great love and presence of God. Call it what you will: the Comfortor, the Holy Spirit, Yahweh, Teacher, Counselor, Strengthener. But just as the writer of St. Patrick's Breastplate knew - the spirit of the living God is all around around us, encompassing and embracing us - spiritual "personal protective equipment" that  nourishes our souls - that replenishes our heart - that meets our faith and keeps us whole.

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. -PSALMS 46:2-3 

Amen and Amen. 

Seven Prayers in Seven Minutes to put a Face on COVID-19

I have heard the story many times.  Years before I was born, a  Bible salesman came to the door of my remarkable neighbor, "Miss" Bertha Parker. She was a young widow with a houseful of young children and she  politely refused him. He played the guilt card; "Ma'am, are you going to stand between your children and salvation?" Her response was classic. "No, I'm going to stand between them and starvation!"

And that's what scares us today. There is nothing that stands between us and COVID-19. No vaccine, no immunity, no testing, no anti-viral meds.  Maybe even no hospital bed.

So in this time of fear, I invite you to join me in a daily practice. It should take only 7 minutes at most. PRAY for seven people or groups. If you don't have a God of your understanding, then reflect on them. I think this practice will calm and restore you. Here's my suggested 7 topics for 7 prayers.

1. Chose someone specific to pray for in leadership. Pray for our POTUS, the head of the CDC,  or Dr. Fauci, the NIAID director who has advised seven presidents. Pray for their strength, their leadership, their health and their wisdom. Reflect on what an incredible time this is in human history and how it begs for voices of hope. Ask God to help them lead with courage and care and communicate truthfully.

2. Chose someone specific to pray for in the medical field. Pray for a health care provider that you know personally. Pray for a nurse on the front line, or a pharmacist filling as many prescriptions as she possibly can. Reflect on the many people that make a hospital work, from the cleaning staff to the receptionist, to the respiratory therapist. Pray for a doctor.  Ask God to help them care for themselves and their families and for doctors to make judicious decisions.

3. Pray for someone elderly. Your grandma, your neighbor, your neighbor’s grandma. The old guy you see at the neighborhood coffee shop.They are living with the knowledge that their days are numbered, hoping for a peaceful end of life. Now their latter days are threatened. If we have a surge of case and they become sick, they may be denied care, or they may face dying alone. Pray for their strength and safety and comfort.

4. Pray for someone with a pre-existing condition and/or immune suppressed. We all know someone; that someone may be us. Pray for someone with asthma, cancer, COPD, diabetes, high blood pressure. The list of what makes people suspect is long and they know they are targeted by this bastard of a virus.  Ask for their peace, their rest. Pray they are lifted and encouraged by friends and family and that they feel the love of all around them.

5. Pray for someone with COVID-19. Don't know someone? You likely will. If you don't, thank God and pray for the faceless numbers on the charts, and  their families, trying to quarantine. Ask  for healing, for peace, for faith, for trust. Pray for available treatment, hospital beds, ventilators.  And if praying for the unknown  doesn't float your boat, pick Tom and Rita Hanks or Rudy Gobert or Sophie Trudeau. There will be more.

6. Pray for the scientists.  One of my sons is an epidemiologist, so I'm a bit partial to their ilk. Or pray for researchers who are trying to tease our treatments from our current arsenal of cures or those who are working to develop a vaccine as the whole world waits with bated breath.

7. Pray for the families of all of the folks above. Their lives have been upended; they are grasping for a foothold in the rapidly changing landscape. They worry, fret, pray, research while doing their darnedest to lift up their loved ones. Pray for Strength, Hope, Wellness, and the Peace that Passeth All Understanding. Pray for love.

In this time of fear and angst, of politics red and blue, we've been given an opportunity. To see what is good in our lives, in our people, in our country. To shoulder the burdens of others as well as our own. Expand this list, add utility workers, Amazon deliverers, grocery store stockers, restaurant servers, USPS employees, and others. There is no sector of this country exempt. Pray for those who live paycheck to paycheck and without insurance. Just Pray.

And finally, be better.  Stop spewing hate. Stop with the divisiveness.  Just stop it. This is far bigger than trying to derail an election. Your attitude is as virulent as COVID-19. You may not realize it, but you are being seen and heard and you are influencing others. Try a kinder, gentler, more empathetic tact. You might even like yourself for it. Share your toilet paper  and paper towels. Don't buy 12 times what you will need. And especially, don't assume you are exempt.

Take stock of yourself as well as your pantry. Make sure there's empathy, compassion, and genuine concern. Keep an eye on the news, the CDC website or the NYT. Be informed, but not inundated.

Eat good food. Love your family. Write a letter. Read a book. Do a puzzle. Stream that series you never had time for. Walk in your neighborhood. Play with your kids. Call a friend. Cherish the gifts in your life.

If we work together, if we recapture the 9/11 sense of unity, we can get through this as a nation. It's likely to be a marathon, not a sprint, but with God's help...and each other, we got this.

And in the meantime, if you need a really good laugh, watch this SNL skit: The Sands of Modesto

Peace, out.

For the Cost of a Stamp

They are just pieces of paper, enclosed in other pieces of paper, written on with ink, and stuck with tiny squares of  government-issued paper. yet, their value is priceless; they lift spirits better than any pill, they cause facial muscles to bend themselves into smiles and they create a warm feeling under the breastbone. They are Valentines. Not the gushy hearts and over-the top copy meant for lovers, but the ones exchanged between friends to say "you mean something to me" and "I'm thinking of you!" 

These tokens of friendship are designed, manufactured, shipped to a retail outlet, displayed, purchased, signed and addressed, dropped into a mailbox, journeyed through the postal system and at last carefully placed in a mailbox. They cost a few bucks, and then require another few coins for a stamp, but Valentines are a bargain that can't be beat! 

This year Mom received one from our friend Charlotte in Arizona. It has a penguin on it - a favorite of Mom and Charlotte. She and I went to church together when our children were preschool aged. During those years, when my parents would roll into town  for a visit (and yardsaling)  they would occasionally cross paths with Charlotte. Charlotte continues to remember and reach out to Mom every couple of weeks with an astonishing variety of postcards.   On holidays she often sends color popup cards that earn permanent positions on my bookcase so that Mom can see them year round. I sing Charlotte's praises because of the many people in my mom's life, her role was quite small, yet in Mom's later days her commitment and the pleasure she brings Mom through her cards is quite large. She has heart, one which she uses to gladden my mother's days. 

Another card arrived from our dear Seaboard friend, Laura. who has played and continues to play a major role in both our lives. Laura lived next door to Mom for years, but her friendship with both of us is deep and lasting. Our mutual love of God, family, and DOGS bind us as thick as if we shared DNA. (And Mom's great grandchildren, Molly and Caleb are Laura's grandchildren, so we ARE family now!) Laura is also a loyal card sender - and always seems to know when either of us need a lift or remembrance. Her cards often sport a funny canine, but they always deliver love. 

My friend Jo, a good friend made during those crazy days of raising middle aged and high school boys send me a card this Valentine's, too. She has been there for both of us, especially during these last few challenging years. Mom sits under a quilt Jo made her that bursts with vivid reds, blues, pinks, yellows, and purples and sleeps under another that is her favorite  color, lavender. She's also made one for Mom to enjoy at the beach, too. Mom delights in them and marvels in her skill and creativity. Jo drops in and visits in person, and to two "shut-in" women, than's perhaps the nicest remembrance of all!

One last card to share - this one from William Ivey Long in New York. William Ivey, a costume designer for stage and film in NYC, but has deep Seaboard roots. Mom was enchanted to receive a lovely handmade card from him nestled in hot pink and red tissue. We wonder if his sister, who he treats like a princess, helped him make them. Mom was charmed and so touched to be remembered!  

So this Valentine's Day, I'm thinking of friends and praising God for all who lift us during our journey together. And especially for those who go the extra mile to remember us with cards - who care enough to "send the very best" of themselves through the post. 

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.- 1 John 4:7

Father, help me to remember my friends far and near with gestures of heartfelt love. 

,

Crosspatch

My youngest great nephew, Caleb, turned 15 yesterday and both his parents posted a variety of photos celebrating his big day. This was one of those pictures and one I adore. It shows the unvarnished truth: a little boy who had much better things to do with his time than sit for a photograph! To be clear, Caleb is one of the most fun-loving people I know - he is usually sporting a big smile and about to toss off a joke, but in this split second of time, his discontent is clearly recorded.

Thinking about that moment motivated me to dig out this book from my childhood. Crosspatch by Helen and Alf Evers, tagged 2 for 25 cents at Clarks Department Store and inscribed  with my name and the date, 1967, in my Mom's hand. Was I a Crosspatch, too, at age 7?

My sister certainly was a Crosspatch. Here's a pic my Great Uncle Foster took of her when she, too clearly didn't want her picture taken. (It comes to no surprise, that just seeing this picture would turn her into an adult Crosspatch, but I've had  it framed and displayed in my china cabinet for years.  Like the picture of Caleb it holds such a special place in my heart.)

"Crosspatchedness" must surely run in my family. This picture of my younger son, Zack, as a grumpy baby at the beach is also one of my favs and is framed and displayed at our place at the beach. And again, Zack at a Parkwood United Methodist Church Halloween party clearly telegraphing "don't take my photo!"

Crosspatch, the little  lion in my Tip-Top Elf/Rand McNally Book has no friends which makes him even crosser, so much so that he has a big tantrum. Big enough to clear out all the visitors to the zoo. We learn that "Crosspatch knew there was only on way to get away from his crossness. And that was - NEVER to be cross again." That's a pretty good lesson for a 7 year old (though surely I was never cross?)

But the adult in me sees another, deeper, lesson. Because when we are at our crossest, our most irritated, our most human, that is when we are most needing to be loved.  It is when we are most hungry for a kind word, a hug, a cup of tea, or a listening ear.

And in public? We've all see Crosspatches in the wild, in line at the grocery store, pumping gas, sitting next to us at our kid's ballgame. What if, instead of returning crossness with crossness, we offer kindness instead? What if we let that person in line go in front of us? What if we smile at the woman in the pump and we complement our neighbor's kids?

That's radical love - it grace we are offered every day by God. We are seen with all our imperfections and loved perfectly anyway. It is the soft space of unconditional love. And the cost to us? Nothing.

The price is the same for us to return crosspatchedness with love. We've becomes a fragmented and vitriolic country. Perhaps  kindness and unconditional love is the best medicine we have to heal a hurting nation.

 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.   1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (NIV)

Father, help us to always, everywhere, and unfailingly grant patience, kindness, and love to those we see around us everyday. Help us to grant that same grace to ourselves when we see a Crosspatch in the mirror. 

Purpose

I sleep like a feral animal. If you ask my long suffering husband he will likely regale you with chilling tales of how he shivers on the edge of the bed with absolutely no covers. My favorite position is part fetal, part sprawl with  a leg stretched out as far as it can go to lay claim to mid-bed real estate  for myself. In fact, hitching that leg out so far has given me some problems with my hip flexor and I'm trying desperately to pull that hamhock back in at night. So when I saw a trim little pillow  near the checkout at Walgreen's I made a purchase. THIS would solve my problem, allowing me to align my legs properly.

It does help and has earned in place in my nocturnal landscape, but Little Girl, our ancient pug and pleasure hound has found that it fits her chin perfectly. She has determined that the true purpose of that pillow is to support her precious head.

Little Girl and "her" pillow

Tuesday at PT (yes, for my hip flexor) I ran into the mom of an old friend of mine. Her daughter, Diana, and I were thick as thieves when our kids were in Durham Public Schools together, both of us were PTA queens and busy moms and lived in the same neighborhood. But then, life brought change and a move across town, and our relationship shrunk to a yearly exchange of Christmas Cards.  But despite not seeing her often,  I continued to hold her near and dear in my heart.

Mrs. Harmon and I at PT. We have the same therapist!

When my sister was in the ICU last March, I reached out to Diana for help. My sister was a member of the the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latte-Day Saints  and Diana and her family are Mormons, too, and fully embrace their faith. I texted  Diana at her number from years ago and she responded. She immediately stepped in, contacting Elaine's church family, asking if we needed help arranging a blessing for my sister, bringing a care basket to the hospital, feeding our family, and so importantly, helping us understand Mormon funerals. My heart swells with gratitude  to this very day for all the kindnesses she showed us - and the very real difference she made guiding us through Elaine's last days and service.

Diana's kindnesses was the personification of Romans 8:28:

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

God was with us in that painful week; He made his presence known in many ways, especially through the loving action of an old friend. He wrapped and comforted and prepared us, through a friendship that had been ordained years ago. Diana's purpose, in our lives, in that moment, was clear: to reflect God's love and extend His grace to us. I am forever grateful.

Father, help us find the purpose in our lives. Guide and direct us so that we might reflect your love and extend your grace to your children. 

Diana and I at the open house for the renovated Apex Temple last September. 

PS.   ...and Little Girl? What is her true purpose in our lives? Why to give us the opportunity to SERVE, of course! 

Lost in the Translation

Samantha, or Sam for short, is an amazing young physical therapist who was recently assigned to Mom's care to help with strengthening and stamina. She is knowledgeable, energetic, encouraging and very professional. She is also from Minnesota.

For those of you who have visited Minnesota or have the pleasure to know a Minnesotan, they have a distinctive accent that simply charms the socks right off of me. Even in speaking the name of their state, you can hear their long "ohhhhh" sound as in Minne-Sohhhhhh-da. I once had a flight connection in Minneapolis and rather than read, I simply sat and marinated in the lulling sounds of the voices around me.

So yeah. I love the accent. Mom, not so much. Oh, she likes Sam fine, despite shooting her the occasional stink eye for her requests of additional reps or steps. But she can't understand a darn thing Sam says.

So when Sam speaks,  Mom looks at me, and Sam looks at me and there is a little pause. And I translate. I translate from Minnesotan to our native dialect, which is actually a Virginia Piedmont Accent. Or as my husband says is the one that sounds like there are grits flying out of my mouth.

And so on we go, like a ping pong game back and forth - Sam to me and me to Mom. And it works. And there is humor in it, and affection, and union. 

And isn't that what we want in our communication with people? The united front, the face to face communication, the listening, the sharing, the sound of a warm voice and - the light - the understanding!

We have created many barriers to effective communication in society today: texts, Facebook, emails, and Twitter. So efficient!   Yet the heart of communication - the heart of understanding lies in speech - and time. In the quiet back and forth of a shared conversation, the non-verbal facial cues that allow us the richness of  fully comprehending one another.

Paul writes in Colossians 4:6:

 Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.

 So let's talk - face-to-face or on a phone. Skype or Google Hangout. Use Facetime. But talk - graciously - to one other. And listen.

Father, we thank you for the richness of speech and the opportunities to live in authentic relationship with one another. Help us to make time for carefully curated words and the moments in between. 

The Daughter She Never Had

Friday was Earle's birthday and on Sunday, as usual, he made his way to Kernersville to visit with his Mom. When he returned, he dumped a large gift bag onto the dining room table. There was no doubt in my mind that it held clothes.

My mother-in-law has exquisite taste and her overflowing closets are filled with classic designs, herringbones, leopard prints, checks, and plaids. For the almost 40 years I've known her, she has carefully curated her wardrobe and tastefully arranged ensembles for every occasion. 

She tries, a bit in desperation, to outfit us as well, but with Earle's rubric for dressing "Is it clean?" and mine  "Does it fit?" it's a bit of an uphill slog.

On Monday, I go to unpack the gift bag. Inside I find three white polos - great choices for Earle because he can't mismatch white. As expected, the fourth item was a sweater. 

Earle has, thanks to his Mom, an excellent collection of sweaters. And like Strega Nona's Pasta Pot, no matter how many he gives away, he seems to have more. 

But this time something is different. I notice the back of the sweater is longer than the front. I hold it up - the shoulders don't seem very wide and the neckline is well, rather feminine. When I see it still sports the tags from Kohl's I enter it into their online store and low and behold...

My Mother-in-Law has given my big, burly husband a woman's sweater for his birthday! 

When I texted him the screenshot above, he immediately texted back "I'm the daughter she never had!" 

We've laughed over this for days, but in the back of my mind there is a thread of thought. How much is too much? Our closets are overflowing. New is "fresh", new is "better," but are we as people "fresher" and "better" for it? I'm setting myself a challenge this year, to pare down, to keep, collect, and stockpile less - and clothes are a good place to start. If someone else needs something we don't, why are we holding on? Didn't Jesus tell us in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 6:28-30)

 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.  Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?"

Father, help us be less focused on our what we put on our bodies and more focused on what we put in our heart. Give us the wisdom to made good and careful choices, living as you would have us do. Amen. 

And PS? That sweater fits me like a charm! 

A Little Something Sweet

My 94 year old Mom and I had a walk down memory lane this week, straight to the the cookie shelf in our hometown grocery store.

Mr. Charlie Painter ran a fine establishment on the Main Street of Seaboard, North Carolina. The building was part of the tiny downtown and abutted the bustling sidewalk. There were a few awning covered steps that lead up to the door which opened into a snug, well stocked space. Regular shoppers were greeted with a familiar scent, a mixture of fresh bread, sharp cheese, and the assorted smells of the butchery in the back. The old wooden floor creaked hello and stock boys and grocers called out greetings. It felt like home.

The register area and exit sat just a few feet from the entrance due  to the long rectangular layout and housed a clanging register and odds and ends of assorted bookkeeping and store keeping necessities. Nestled among all of this were large cookie jars, emblazoned with the label "Jacks." For a penny  (before the price hike to 2/5 cents) you could reach your hand inside for a crisp butter cookie (with a hold in the middle excellent for twirling on a finger),  a coconut cookie, or a lemon cookie. They were crisp and sweet and the perfect little something to consume on the stroll back home.

Alternatively, on the cookie shelf proper, one could find enchanting kid=sized packages of Nabisco Snaps. Their boxes were about the same size as their neighboring Animal Crackers and they came in Chocolate, Vanilla, Chocolate Chip and Ginger. Of this batch, Ginger was by far the most exotic. They had a distinctive crisp tang of true ginger backed up with a mild sweetness. For a kid my age, they ranked behind the more familiar sweet treats, but were often my mom's favorite and so being, often won the right to come home.

Years later, I rarely found myself around ginger snaps until I went on a Cub Scout outing with our friends, the Hartleys. Al was the of  leader of the pack and his wife, Anne, was gracious enough to host our factious assemblage of boys at her family home in Ebony, VA for camping/swimming festivities at nearby Lake Gaston. While there, she and I  visited Ebony's mom and pop grocery store and memories of Charlie Painter's came flooding back.  So many things were the same, the smell, welcome, the small town feel. When we headed to the checkout, ginger snaps and sharp cheddar cheese accompanied us.

Anne asked me if I'd ever had them together? Heresy! Cookies and cheese together? Never had I heard of such a thing! But she showed me by example, breaking a small piece of bright yellow cheese on top of a crisp ginger snap and WOW! The contrast of the smooth, creamy, yet tart cheese brought out the tingling spice of the cookie. A match made in heaven!

This Christmas, my friend Laura, tucked a big container of ginger snaps in my generous Christmas basket and I when I discovered it, I couldn't get to my Harris Teeter fast enough to pick up cheddar cheese slices. Over the holidays when things became too frantic I slipped into the kitchen and had a ginger snap topped with cheddar, a taste of bliss on a stress filled day.

Now, I can't imagine not pairing these two.. They have become a "thing" to me. They are two distinct elements that are now a "new creation."

To many of us, January, with it's talk of resolutions and new envisionings, is welcome. It offers hope and belief that we too can become something more (or less, if it resolutions include diets!) But this idea of doing over, doing better is a comfort to our painfully human bodies and souls. January offers us our own chance to be a new creation!

It's an idea that is familiar. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:17:

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! 

Let this idea of a New Creation guide us as we look ahead to 2020. How can we take this verse to heart? Our most immediate thoughts turn towards our bodily health - how can I lose weight, have more energy, eat better, feel better, exercise more? But perhaps even more we are called to  evaluate the health of our "spiritual heart?" How can we grow a heart for Christ? How can we grow a heart for God's people? For all God's people? How can we live into being a "New Creation?"

Father, help us see ourselves more clearly. Lead us to see with your eyes, the good in all people. Help us to help those in need in your name. To love instead of hate, to join, instead of divide, to lift instead of dismiss. Amen. 

Stepping into the Unknown

Mary Frances, 9 years old

When Mary Frances was around 8 or 9, she created an audacious game she loved to play. I am quite sure it left her more exhilarated than a fast ride on her bike down the hill in front of her white farmhouse. The only problem was, she couldn't find anyone to play it with her. Her best friends, Scottie and Emma Jean, flat out refused though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

 It was a simple game. There was an shed behind her house next to the woodhouse surrounded by s a deep pile of soft southern sand. If she strategically placed her feet in the proper spots on the adjoining fence, she could climb up to the roof. Then, once atop the shed, she would proceed to close her eyes and    WALK    SLOWLY    TOWARDS    THE     EDGE   OF   THE  ROOF    NOT   KNOWING    WHEN   SHE WOULD   FALL   OFF.

That pile of soft sand saved her again and again. I owe that pile of sand my life.

But I do love to imagine Mom walking into nothingness.   Her heart must have raced, and I bet her cheeks were flushed pink, hair flying wild- a young adrenaline junkie.

"It was fun!" she recalls! "No-one would play it with me," she laments. "I had to do it by myself!"

She stepped into the unknown with the full faith that she would be okay. She never doubted.

And isn't that what we want in life? To have full faith that things will turn out okay? That we can take a chance once and for all?

In Isaiah 43, the prophet Isaiah gives words of comfort and hope to the people of Israel who were in exile in Babylonia. Today we, too can draw comfort and hope from these words - from the beautiful language, especially these verses from the NIV:

1But now, this is what the Lord says—
    he who created you, Jacob,
    he who formed you, Israel:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
    I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
2 When you pass through the waters,
    I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
    they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
    you will not be burned;
    the flames will not set you ablaze.
3 For I am the Lord your God,
    the Holy One of Israel, your Savior;


This protection, this grace, was certainly extended to the young girl incarnation of my mother and even in these, her later days, I see this glimpses of this grace daily.

This grace is offered to us too. Our God is a faithful one who will strengthen and protect us. So in this New Year, take heart! The same grace/protection offered to the ancient people of Israel will see us through our times of trouble.

The start of a new year is a natural time for self-reflection. What have you yet to achieve in your life? What ways of service are tugging at you? Take a risk, try new things, forge new relationships or reestablish old ones, care for you body, your family, your home. Get involved with a volunteer group you've always admired. And do these this with the ultimate faith that God is with you through it all.

Like Mary Frances, step out in the faith and the knowledge that you are a beloved of God and He will be with you.

All you have to do is just take the first step into the unknown!