If you’re old enough, you might remember a TV program called “Fantasy Island”; an hour-long show that usually unfolded three different story lines per episode. At the beginning of each, the Overseer’s assistant would announce the new guest’s arrival by ringing the tower bell and shouting, “Ze Plane! Ze Plane! Boss! Ze Plane!”

 

That’s exactly how I felt New Year’s Day when I realized my new bulbs had broken ground. The bulbs! The bulbs! The bulbs are coming up!

 

Once Christmas is over and New Year’s has passed, I’m always ready for spring; and it was my good fortune to be in Lowe’s in early December when they discounted the bulbs 75%, so I cleaned them out. I can hardly wait to see the cheerful explosions of yellow and white daffodils, narcissus, and tiny little vivid irises.

 

They’re exactly the right kind of flowers for me because once planted, they bloom; and then they stay in the ground and mind their own business till next year. My grandmother was a very talented gardener, but I didn’t come anywhere near inheriting her green genes. When our church youth group would distribute beautiful hanging baskets of color every Mother’s Day, I always figured my basket was thinking, “Please don’t give me to her; she’s going to kill me!” and sure enough, I eventually would.

 

I’d probably benefit from some gardening tutorials, but I’d honestly rather plant with words, thoughts and deeds anyway; and I do regularly discuss my planting projects with the Master Gardener…

 

 

Then the Lord God planted a garden in Eden

 

in the east

 

and there he placed the man he had made.

 

Genesis 2:8

 

 

…and I love love love to watch his work…

 

 

…Each of us did the work the Lord gave us.

 

I planted the seed in your hearts,

 

and Apollos watered it,

 

but it was God who made it grow.

 

It’s not important who does the planting,

 

or who does the watering.

 

What’s important is that God makes the seed grow.

1 Corinthians 3: 5-7

 

 

There’s an old abandoned homestead piece of land that I love driving past in the spring. It has thick bushy rows of blooming yellow daffodils and white narcissus; clearly proclaiming that this once was a loved property where things were planted and, even though the house is long gone, continues to produce a harvest of beauty. I hope that someday the same can be said about my life.

 

 

The waiting line in our local post office forms beside a waist-high divider—a resting place for packages and also a stamp display case. The stamps range from a festive “Happy Birthday” to floral hearts to large reptiles and dinosaurs. One day I overheard a conversation in line behind me. Two young children, in care of their grandmother, were entertaining themselves talking about the stamps positioned at nose level.

 

Their exchange went something like this: “Nana, can we buy Happy Birthday stamps?”…“No, I wouldn’t want to wish the electric company ‘Happy Birthday.’”…“Nana, can we buy the heart stamps?”…“No, I wouldn’t want to put ‘I love you on my bills.”…“Nana, what about the dinosaurs?”…“No, I don’t want those. I just want plain old stamps.”

 

By the time we reached the end of the display, they were no longer bothering to even ask; and I was thinking, “Good grief, Woman!! WHY NOT buy the ones they want?”

 

When I got to the window, I told the clerk to give me the brightest wildest stamps he had. Plain stamps are fine and surely do their job, but what’s wrong with choosing the ones that bring a smile to your face and spirit?

 

The first time I heard Mercy Me’s “I Can Only Imagine”, it brought goose bumps; and I stood still and savored, “Surrounded by Your Glory, what will my heart feel? Will I dance for you, Jesus? Or in awe of You, be still?…I can only imagine! I can only imagine!”

 

So, what are your dreams; and what will your epithet say? Will it say you put off doing what would have caused your heart to soar because it wasn’t on your schedule; or that you were too rigid to detour from your routine?

 

In Deuteronomy 30:19 Moses challenged his people:

 

“This day I call heaven and earth

 

as witnesses against you

 

that I have set before you life and death,

 

blessings and curses.

 

Now choose life,

 

so that you and your children may live

 

and that you may love the Lord your God,

 

listen to his voice, and hold fast to him.

 

For the Lord is your life….”

 

Which stamps will you buy?

 

 

(I wrote this way back in 2005; and it still fits.)

 

When was the last time you caught your breath as your spirit soared and danced before God?

 

Several Augusts ago I had opportunity to hike to a mountaintop in Vail, CO. Rotating 360 degrees revealed a surround of mountain peaks. The air was clear and the sun warm in a cool breeze. Raising my eyes from the wildflowers stretching far down the grassy slope at my feet to the majestic mountains in the distance, my heart soared before the Lord.

 

“I get up. I walk. I fall down. Meanwhile, I keep dancing,” words of Rabbi Hillel who lived in Jerusalem during the days of King Herod. King David danced before the Lord in II Samuel; and the Psalms teach that God turns our mourning into dancing and we are to praise Him with dancing. We may not get to choose how we die; but we do get to choose if we dance before we die.

 

Do you ever say, “I’ll be happy when…” or “someday when things settle, I’ll…” or “one of these days, I’m going to…”? If life could be boxed, tied neatly with string and placed on a shelf, then maybe we would be happy; but the reality is that life passes quickly and we, with it, are constantly changing. There are very few logical natural stopping places.

 

The older I grow, the more I become aware that time is accelerating. As of last Thursday, we no longer have a teenager in our family. Our youngest child turned 20 and I’m struck by the realization that a significant page in our book of parenting has turned. How strange that we don’t really know what we’re losing until one day it’s gone.

 

The most important things in life have to do with relationships—not possessions or accomplishments. So I wonder why is it that the things of greatest value get put off until some imaginary someday? Truth is, we’re all running low on “some days”; and if we plan to chase our dreams, we’d better get going.

 

An old Irish proverb says, “Dance as if no one were watching, sing as if no one were listening and live every day as if it were your last.”

 

To be continued…

 

Years ago Dan began a special service at McKnight Church that eventually evolved into a tradition we called Family Christmas Communion.

 

I vividly remember the first celebration. It was the last Sunday before Christmas; the church was dark except for soft December sunlight filtering through the stained windows and one single floodlight streaming down on the elements. The most interesting thing happened as the minutes progressed; big kids who normally sat at the very back of the church began silently migrating to join their parents.

 

Each family quietly took their turn gathering at the front of the church; sitting in chairs positioned around a table simply set with an earthen pitcher of juice and a napkin-wrapped long loaf of crusty bread.

 

Dan led each group through the partaking of the elements representing Jesus’ sacrifice for each of us; and, when finished, he gave each family a special “word”. Each family received a different word; then joined hands around the table while he prayed God’s blessing of their word, on their family, for the coming year.

 

It was an amazingly moving service. Louise, always able to articulate feelings so succinctly, told me later that she’d gone home and told Harold, “I could die this afternoon and be perfectly happy”. I suspected Harold wondered exactly what had transpired at church that morning, but he’d loved Louise for a long time so probably didn’t think a thing of it.

 

I miss that celebration service and receiving a special word; but know, beyond any shadow of doubt, that it was only a shadowy glimpse of heaven’s glorious on-going celebration.

 

My goal is to always notice and celebrate God’s little criss-crosses of events as I actively seek for joy. Last week Facebook had a survey item thing where you type in your name and then it gives you your word for 2016.

 

I wasn’t a bit surprised to see that mine was “joy”.

 

 

I pray that God, the source of hope,

 

will fill you completely with joy and peace

 

because you trust in him.

 

Then you will overflow with confident hope

 

through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Romans 15:13

 

Faith Cora came to visit yesterday morning; she snacked on Veggie Straws & wild-colored goldfish while we sat at the kitchen table and talked.

 

I told her that it was the last day of the year 2015 and that tomorrow would be the first day of the New Year 2016. She nodded, munched, and listened. I told her that, at the end of every old year, Papa Dan and I would sit down and talk about what we wanted to do during the next year.

 

She nodded and kept on munching; then I asked her what she thought she might want to do in the New Year. She considered for a moment and said, “I will want to play”. I said I thought that was a good idea and asked if she could think of anything else she might want to do.

 

She pondered for a while and said, “Well, I will want to eat because I will probably be hungry”. I agreed that that too was a very good thing.

 

Evidently Faith Cora and I think alike because those are two things that I really want to do in the New Year also; and I’m thinking we can probably do them together sometimes.

 

After we’d exhausted our New Year’s conversation, we moved on to other topics. She’s still firmly settled on “Chair Leaf” as the right name for her February arriving brother; but I inquired if she, Mommy & Day had even talked about any other names for him. She gazed out the kitchen window for a long minute, then turned back, fixed her eyes on me, and said, “Well, I haven’t thought of any nicknames yet”.

 

Well, all-righty then; Chair Leaf it is.

 

A good name is more desirable than great wealth.

 

Respect is better than silver or gold.

Proverbs 22:1

 

I think the 10:20 pm viewing of Star Wars, following 72 family members Christmas partying at my house, was likely the tipping point; and it pains me a little to admit that I might be too old to hang out with my son and nephews till 1:00 am.

 

I know there’s a limit as to how far I should deplete my energy; I’m just not very good at observing it. Dan used to say that when he was really really tired, he knew to go rest; but that when I was really really tired, I’d just go and do something else. It makes me smile to remember that; and it also makes me wonder, if I’m possibly a slow learner.

 

So I ended up at my doctor’s office twice—once before Christmas and once afterwards. One good thing that has developed over the past few years is that I have little to no reluctance to mention God and faith in any conversation with anybody.

 

So I was pleased that, in addition to discussing my pneumonia, pleurisy and strained rib muscles, we talked a little about God. I took him a copy of “Yawning At Tigers”, one of my 2015 favorites; the book’s subtitle “You Can’t Tame God, SO STOP TRYING” says it all.

 

His observation that “the God we serve is too big to be contained in any book, even the Bible”, made me think. While God isn’t contained by anyone or anything or any circumstance, he can readily be found by anyone anywhere at any time; and just how cool is that?

 

Yours, O LORD, is the greatness,

 

the power, the glory, the victory, and the majesty.

 

Everything in the heavens and on earth is yours, O LORD,

 

and this is your kingdom.

 

We adore you as the one who is over all things.

 

1 Chronicles 29:11

 

Dear Self,

 

The Christmas season has always brought mixed emotions to me; and I sat outside moon watching and thinking about things for a long time on Christmas night. After Dan was killed, one of the hardest differences for me was the abrupt cut-off of laughter. It felt as if all joy had been sucked out of my life and I was suffocating without it; and its ugly absence glared at me constantly for a long long long time. I couldn’t make the grief disappear and the waiting was hard. Laughter and joy have returned this past year; and I’m much more acutely sensitive to it, and life’s, fragility. No guarantees of anything on this earthly ball outside of God; and I am SO incredibly thankful for living roots in him.

 

Christmas was truly good; lots of goofy silly games and tons of laughter. This year it was ever so much more genuine for me than the last several; and thereby, infinitely more precious.

 

I hosted the extended family Christmas party that Dan and I did for years and years. Had 72 people here at my house…renewed old and created lots of new fun memories with my cousins and all our kids and grandkids. Joshua and April were both thrilled that I resumed the tradition. At evening’s end, Kaden, a cousin’s 11 yr old grandson grinned up at me and softly said, “I liked your party. It was lots of fun”. No better praise to be found—perfect party cap for me.

 

At year’s end, Dan & I’d usually talk about what we hoped to see in the New Year coming. One of my current thoughts–I love writing and am anticipating much joy from it this next year.

 

Working to live genuinely in each moment,

 

Self

 

She is clothed with strength and dignity,

 

and she laughs without fear of the future.

Proverbs 31:25

 

The 2015 Christmas Morning

Screaming Flying Monkeys Olympic Event

(no clear champions 🙂 )

 

Let me lead you Jan.

Go out in joy

and be led forth with peace.

Isaiah 55:12

 

This week’s verse; and I absolutely love it!

 

My daughter-in-law Jessie gave me a small mason jar for Christmas—filled to the brim with 52 small slips of folded paper—each one containing a verse of Scripture personalized for me.

 

Years ago I heard Becky Teribassi speak at a women’s conference and returned home with her book “Let Prayer Change Your Life” plus cassette tapes of her material. One of her suggestions on knowing God better was to personalize your way through the Psalms. I took the challenge and every day would re-write some verses, sometimes an entire chapter, substituting “me, my, mine, I, Jan” wherever appropriate. It created incredibly intimate fellowship moments with God.

 

I haven’t a clue what the rest of Jessie’s verses for me will be, but fully anticipate they will create as much joy in my spirit as this one; and I’m honored by the love gifts of her time and energy she used to bring it to me.

 

I love you, Jess.

 

She stood barefoot in line behind me at Kroger’s late on Christmas Eve afternoon. The two small containers of infant formula she placed on the conveyor belt and the little plastic card she rubbed between her fingers, spoke volumes; as did her loosely fitting, stained, and worn t-shirt with soft pajama type pants. She’d obviously given birth very recently.

 

I didn’t stare—but it’s amazing how many details peripheral vision will take in.

 

I’d never seen the young woman before, but impressions that came to mind were “gentle” and “clean”—from her long pale golden red hair all the way down to her bare feet.

 

The grocery store isn’t my favorite place to be on Christmas Eve—especially since I had so many things left to do at home; but I was out of cayenne pepper, of all things—a key ingredient in the Southwest Mushroom Casserole I’d be serving at the next morning’s brunch.

 

I’d already made up my mind to be cheerful while I was there. So another late shopper in the spice aisle and I had joked about the possibility of purchasing the giant container of cayenne and putting a cup of it in everyone’s stocking. I’m actually proud to say that probably no one unpacking one of my Christmas stockings would bat an eye. Mason had already told me, the day before, that if I put another giant dill pickle in his stocking, I was wasting my money.

 

So, in the spirit of joy, I’d added some extra non-essential items to my basket—marshmallows for hot chocolate and cans of real whipping cream for my great-nephews Uncle Dan trick. Those, and the cayenne pepper, made quite a contrast to the small containers of baby formula.

 

I knew what I wanted to do, but didn’t want to offend. So I very quietly told the checker to add the formula to my bill. She and the young woman both looked at me and I said, “Oh, I don’t want your formula, I just want to pay for it”. The young woman mouthed the words “thank you”.

 

When I’d finished paying, she said, “Ma’am, may I give you a hug or carry your groceries to your car for you”?

 

I quickly explained no because I had a sinus infection, was taking antibiotics, and didn’t want her or her baby to get sick. I told her “God bless” and went on.

 

When I got outside, I knew I needed, and really really wanted, to do more than that. I grabbed some cash from my purse and turned my cart around. She was standing on the sidewalk looking as though she were waiting for someone to drive up. When I handed her the money, she started crying and said, “now you’re going to make me cry”. Which made two of us.

 

What an amazing God-privilege to be able to give and help someone else. I told April later that day that I was pretty sure I’d met an angel at Kroger’s on Christmas Eve.

 

Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers,

 

for some who have done this

 

have entertained angels without realizing it!

Hebrews 13:2

 

Last month I made reservations for 11 of us to take an afternoon journey on the Texas State Railroad POLAR EXPRESS. Beguiling descriptions of Christmas cookies, mugs of hot chocolate, and silver bells personally handed out by Santa Claus made me smile.

 

Probably because of our group size, we were seated in our own private, turn of the century wood and brass train car—complete with white cloth-covered tables. Garlands and stockings, emblazoned with BELIEVE in glittered letters, draped the full windows overlooking the snow-less East Texas woods.

 

Our personal car attendant, Donna, was a beautiful joy-filled lady; she sang along with the Christmas carols, and danced up and down the aisle, while she served us. Rylan, age 2, eventually joined her; and much to our delight, clapped, sang and danced right along beside her.

 

Sometimes I love God’s surprises. Near the end of our ride, Donna asked my great-nephews where we were from; and I told her that my son-in-law is the school superintendent at one of our county schools. She asked if we knew some kids from his school and we did; she told us that she worked with their mom. I then told her that their mom had been in the Sunday school class I taught for years and years; and that my husband had been the pastor of the church for 20 years—until he was killed four years ago.

 

Donna stopped and said, “Oh…you’re the one with the Scriptures…” and her eyes filled with tears. I knew exactly what she meant because my former Sunday school student has told me several times that she forwards my Scripture on the go emails to everyone on her distribution list.

 

I looked at Donna and said, “I bet you prayed for me”. And she said she had.

 

So first we laughed; and then we hugged and cried. A while back I’d written that, even though I knew hundreds of people had prayed for me following Dan’s death, there wasn’t any way I could know exactly who they were until eternity. Well, yesterday God allowed me just a tiny glimpse of the surprises he has waiting there for me.

 

…”No eye has seen,

 

no ear has heard,

 

and no mind has imagined

 

what God has prepared

 

for those who love him.”

1 Corinthians 2:9