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Life-long Treasure Hunt

Posted in FAMILY, GOD, life, Walking with God, WONDER, tagged #happybirthdayson, #lifelongtreasurehunt, #parableofthetalents, #treasurehunt, #treasureyourtime on October 10, 2017| Leave a Comment »

Sign on sand

Happy birthday, bearded baby boy!

When you were a little boy you loved treasure hunts. One memory of such is the Easter egg hunts with your sisters. While they were racing to find (the most) eggs, you were slowly, methodically adding them to you basket, while stopping and pondering where you would look next.

The treasure hunts don’t end with the end of childhood.

As you get older what you treasure becomes the direction of and how you live your life. So, you need to realize what it is, why, and the consequences (both good and bad) of pursuing such treasure.

Every hour of our days is a gift, and it is up to us to use that time as we choose. That is the freedom in the gift. As with anything else in our lives, the freedom in the gift also comes with consequence, both good and bad.

The Bible tells us over and over about the use of our time.

Ecclesiastes 3 is probably the most familiar to believers and non-believers alike, as it offers a myriad of ways that we can use our gift of time.

Matthew 6:33 tells us to “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness.”

Galatians 6:10 encourages us to use our time for the benefit of others, “as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone.”

Psalm 39:4, reminds us our lives are short, “LORD, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered–how fleeting my life is.”

But it is the Parable of the Talents that I offer to you in this usage of the gift of time.

As with all the Parables (meaning to throw alongside) that Jesus shared, this is a story which is parallel to another.

According to Matthew Henry’s Commentary, the master in the story is believed to represent Christ. The servants are (big surprise) those of us who follow him. We receive all that we have from him, and he gives generously. But, what he gives, we owe him.

Now this Master had (has) left us in charge of the gifts he has given to us. He has trusted us with his best. He has also taken our abilities into consideration, and has given us only what we are able to care for. Some take those treasures, and invest them for long term returns. Others, fearing that they might lose what they have been given, hide the treasures given to them (as if ‘under a bushel’). The Master returns (as he will), and praises those who have shared the riches that they have been given. They are blessed with the words of their Master, “well done good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a little, I will set you over much; enter into the joy of your master” (v. 21 & 23).

The best measure of what you truly treasure is how you spend (invest) your hours. Take a look at your days, your week, and see where you invest your time. The activities that you truly treasure are the ones that you are investing the majority of your time.

Do those activities lead toward seeking the kingdom? Do they indicate that you place that time in the hands of God? Are those activities helping you to do good to everyone? Do they indicate that you know how fleeting life is?

Matthew 6:21 reminds us,

“Your heart will always pursue what you treasure.”

May you live your life’s days as an offering back to God, of this good gift He has given.

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A Love of Giving

Posted in life, Love, Marriage, The Hubby, WONDER, tagged #aloveofgivng, #fishlove, #rabbiabrahamtwerski, Anniversary, ephesians5:1-2, Marriage on September 30, 2017| Leave a Comment »

Despite the fact that, when asked, I almost never know how many years hubby and I have been married (it’s twenty-eight today), I never forget how very much I felt that I loved him on that day … oh, and I still do 😘.

But anyone who has been married long enough to have had a disagreement, an all-out fight, knows that they had no idea what love was on their wedding day. For love is not a once-for-all feeling, but a gradual, ever-evolving metamorphis.

This past summer I watched a video that reminded me how very little real love was involved in the early days of our marriage. As a matter-of-fact, I would say we really only found, in each other, someone who would meet our needs.

In this video Rabbi Dr. (psychiatrist, professor, author) Abraham Twerski introduced me to the concept of Fish Love. Fish love is described as how one might say they love fish, when what they mean is that they love to eat fish, because fish tastes good to them, and it satisfies their appetite. The fish meets their needs.

Twerski said,

“True love is a love of giving, not a love of receiving.”

When we were first married the knowledge and feelings of love were greatly defined by what we received from the other. He filled my cup of needs, wants and desires, and I filled his. In a sense it might be hard to tell where the love originated … was it in the giving or in the receiving? One can feed the other, and in the early years of marriage the give and take is constant.

But, as the years go on it is not so constant, and the cups empty.

It is then that one realizes that fish love doesn’t last. For it is in the selfless, sacrificial giving to each other, even when we aren’t sure that our giving will be recripricated, that we know that we love and are loved by the other.

Ephesians 5:1-2 continues this theme of giving and sacrificial love …

“Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly loved children and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a grant offering and sacrifice to God.”

There is to our twenty-eight years, and counting, of learning to love beyond fish love, hubby. Let me take you out for dinner … but maybe not seafood.

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Praying Without Hope

Posted in Love, Marriage, The Hubby, WONDER, tagged #hopethatisseenisnohopeatall, #prayingwithouthope, #seasonsofmarriage, #thewinterofmarriage, Marriage on September 19, 2017| 1 Comment »

spirit

The vehicle was filled with the sounds of a baseball game. Barely a word spoken for dozens of miles. Contentment filled my heart, my soul.

I remembered hearing my grandmother say that a good marriage is one where a couple can drive in a car for miles and the silence be comfortable.

Numerous times over previous years, driving in the same direction, on the same highway, with the same baseball team playing on the radio, barely a word spoken for dozens of miles …

but my heart was filled with the emptiness of discontent.

The silence so uncomfortable.

The seasons in a marriage, like the seasons in the northern hemisphere, can be such a contrast, one from another. The sunny summer days can seem like endless picnics, cookouts and sweet days at the beach.

But the storms of winter can rage, blowing out electricity, and snowing you in, torrential rains causing permanent water damage.

I remember one such winters day in our marriage when we drove this very route, and I had prayed (with little investment of hope) for a miracle for our marriage. Truly it was a last ditch, faith-lacking prayer.

We had reached the point that, though we did still love each other (in a covenant-commitment manner of love), neither one of us liked or had affection for each other.

Why would I share such weakness, such imperfection?

Because I believe that heartache and suffering just have to have purpose outside of personal growth. If telling our story resonates in the heart and experience of another who is trying to protect themselves from the wintery blizzards of marriage, then I can look back and be thankful in all circumstances.

This is marriage … real marriage. Though we go to the alter and make promises in clean, perfectly altered attire, we live in the sandbox of reality. It’s not clean, or pretty, nor does it always fit. We all have these winters in our marriages … not one is perfect, not one is a bed of summery roses every day.

As we, wordlessly, comfortably drove that same highway, one night this summer, I felt the gentle, fresh breeze of summer evening coming into the windows of our car.

Suddenly, I realized that the comfortable silence we were surrounded by was the miracle of my hope-lacking prayer of years past …

when the season was not so gentle to our relationship, and we were not so gentle to each other.

The hopeless had been reborn, redeemed through the groaning of the Spirit, when we were weak, and did not know (feel) in our hearts that hope that was available.

“hope that is seen is no hope at all.
Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have,
we wait for it patiently.
In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.
We do not know what we ought to pray for,
but the Spirit himself intercedes for us
through wordless groans.”
Romans 8:24-26

(Image above Lawton Wilson)

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Biking … with Kids

Posted in FAMILY, life, The Kids, WONDER, tagged #bikingdisasters, #bikingwithkids, #hehitme, biking on September 10, 2017| Leave a Comment »

biking

Since I recently admitted my physical out of shape condition in the post What Doesn’t Kill You, I thought I would share about the last time I was on a bike, fifteen years ago. Perhaps it will provide understanding as to what might have kept me off the (dreaded, uncomfortable) bike seat.

My kids were three (B), five (C) and ten (B2). It was a sunny Friday morning, and we were riding our bikes to school, as we were a one vehicle family.

Actually, it was my oldest daughter and I who were biking, the younger two were in a bike trailer, facing each other. On this particular ride, I was in the front, with C & B trailing behind and B2 picked up the end.

The pair in the trailer (C & B) seriously loved each other, they also fought like banshees. Which is exactly what they were doing that morning.

We were barely half way to our destination of school, when the memorable situation occurred.

“Moooommmm, B hit me,” said C (with a whiny voice).

To which I replied (with motherly wisdom), “B, no hitting, please.”

It continued …

“Moooommmm, B hit me again.” This time with more whining, more pleading.

To which I replied (with restraint), “B, hitting is not acceptable.”

“Moooommmm, B hit me again.” Now with cries of pain.

This time, with no restraint whatsoever, (but much motherly frustration), “hit him back!”

To which B2 cried out, “Mom did you just tell her to him?”

Now, you need to know that, though C was quite able to get her brother (B) in trouble, she did not, does not, have a physically violent bone in her body. So if she were to hit him back it would be the equivalent of whipping someone with a wet noodle.

We continued on.

“Moooommmm, B hit me again.”

This time I could barely hear her words, for the belly sobs coming from within C.

In total and complete frustration (and the secret wish within me that I was dropping off the two of them to school, along with their sister), I yelled back, “Hit him back, and make sure it hurts!

We did eventually get to school, and drop off their sister (who, no doubt, was shaking her head as she went into the school, having lost any respect for me as a mother that morning).

I am certain that I found a private spot, got off my bike and threatened B to never, EVER, hit his sister again.

And that was the last time I rode a bike …

until last weekend …

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#homeisthebestplacetobe

Posted in life, The Hubby, WONDER, tagged #cominghome, #homeisthebestplacetobe, #vacationisover, Vacation on August 13, 2017| Leave a Comment »

home

A week of the sweet life (aka #vacationfortwo, #justus2, #justhubbyandme, #vacayfor2, #heandme, #roadtrip) has come to an end for hubby and I.

We travelled over one thousand five hundred kilometres, ate far to much of everything one shouldn’t, walked on sandy shorelines, stared in awe as the waves kept coming toward us, took dozens of pictures, spent precious hours with sweet people, went to sleep to the sound of pounding surf, and awoke to the noisy seagulls enjoying their morning feed on the beach.

It was all so good.

And now we are home.

We returned home to the adoration of the Wonderdog, and catching up with a daughter. We crawled into our own bed last night, delighted at the familiarity of our bed. Awoke this morning eager for the that first cup of brewed goodness, in our favourite chairs, with the Wonderdog stretched out on the floor between us.

Laundry in process, familiar, fresh air coming in the windows, life is good.

Vacation is delight, but coming home to who and what we love is the icing on the cake.

My Home

This is the place that I love the best,
A little brown house, like a ground-bird’s nest,
Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees,
Summer retreat of the birds and bees.

The tenderest light that ever was seen
Sifts through the vine-made window screen–
Sifts and quivers, and flits and falls
On home-made carpets and gray-hung walls.

All through June the west wind free
The breath of clover brings to me.
All through the languid July day
I catch the scent of new-mown hay.

The morning-glories and scarlet vine
Over the doorway twist and twine;
And every day, when the house is still,
The humming-bird comes to the window-sill.

In the cunningest chamber under the sun
I sink to sleep when the day is done;
And am waked at morn, in my snow-white bed,
By a singing bird on the roof o’erhead.

Better than treasures brought from Rome,
Are the living pictures I see at home–
My aged father, with frosted hair,
And mother’s face, like a painting rare.

Far from the city’s dust and heat,
I get but sounds and odors sweet.
Who can wonder I love to stay,
Week after week, here hidden away,
In this sly nook that I love the best–
This little brown house like a ground-bird’s nest?

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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Getting a HANDle on Aging-Repost

Posted in life, Love, The Hubby, The Kids, WONDER, tagged Aging, Beauty, hands, laugh lines, Life, lotions, Love, rough skin, touch, Wrinkles on July 28, 2017| 3 Comments »

I just realized that I hadn’t posted yesterday!
I have been hard at work (avoiding) preparing a message for this weekend (on aging!!).
So, in lieu of a belated new post, here is my contribution, from over five years ago.
Now to get a handle on this message …

Although I am only thirty-nine (with four years experience) I am becoming more acquainted with aging, and it’s changes each and every day.

There are some changes that come with ‘time passing on’ (this is hubby’s way of referring to aging) that I quite like.

I love the lines that are forming just outside of the corners of my mouth, and my eyes, because they are evidence to smiles and laughs. I may not remember every individual event that caused my face to smile, but the lines will never hide that joy has filled my days.

I love that I have been plucking my eyebrows for so many years that the hairs almost never re-grow anymore.

I love that I do not have to concern myself with pimples, other than the odd one or two.

I love that, because my hair is … silvering … I have a natural excuse to become an even more blond, and I now have a number(s) to identify and define my hair color 😉

There are also some changes that have occurred that I do not favor so much.

I do not like that my knees have decided I need to pay more attention to them, and they attain my attention in the most uncomfortable of ways.

I do not like that some foods that I ingest want to burn themselves into my memory (or at least into my esophagus).

I definitely do not like the anticipation of body parts migrating in a southerly direction.

But, I especially do not like that the appearance of my hands is changing.

The famous, all-knowing ‘they’ say that the way to most accurately guess the age of woman, you need to only to glance at her neck or her hands.

As each year passes, I have noticed subtle changes happening in my hands, that I am not so happy about. The lines in them are deepening. They need constant re-hydration from rich lotions. I seem to have lost the ability to grown my fingernails to even the slightest length, without their splintering. There seems to be more skin, as it is losing it’s youthful elasticity. They sometimes even ache … but it is their appearance that is more disheartening to me.

It is a frequent occurrence that I glance at my hands, and have no idea whose hands they are. They surely cannot be mine, because mine do not look so … so … aged. Then I realize they move when and where I will them, and so they truly are my own.

Maybe the changes in them bother me, because my hands were the body part(s) that I actually liked about myself. Maybe I thought I would be immune to the normal, natural results of ‘time moving on.’

All that said, maybe the wrinkles, the lines, the shorter nails and the loosening skin are all characteristics of hands that have been held by generations before me, that have held on to the children I gave birth to, that have made meals for those I love, that have held the hands of people readying for eternity, that have written or typed words of encouragement, that have touched the shoulder of one carrying the weight of the world, that have folded in an act of pray, that have been kissed by the man of my life, that will one day be taken by my Redeemer as He welcomes me into eternity.

Maybe they are like the laugh lines I so adore on my face. Maybe they are the lines of hands that have loved, and been loved in return.

So, I’ll keep slathering rich lotions onto them, so that, although they will be marked by the lines of time, they will still be welcoming to the touch of those who need a hand.

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Come Away With Me

Posted in The Hubby, WONDER, tagged #comeawaywithme, #marriageishardwork, Marriage, Retreat on July 2, 2017| 2 Comments »

I looked at my dirty toilet, Wednesday morning, and thought to myself,

“I’d really rather stay home and clean my house than go away with hubby for a couple of nights.”

What woman thinks these thoughts?

The school year had come to an end, and hubby had planned a little mini get away for just us two, and I wanted to stay home and clean toilets? I do need a vacation!

Now that we are home from our two night get-away, I truly do not know that woman who stared longingly into her dirty toilet bowl.

I am so thankful for those days with that man.

We talked, we walked in silence, we sat at the beach, we relaxed in the hot springs pool, we laughed, we dreamed, we discussed, we enjoyed good food, and were totally spoiled at a couples massage.

Twenty-eight years ago, yesterday, this man asked me to marry him (after I told him we were done … that is another story, for another day).

We didn’t take much time to get to know each other before walking an aisle, repeating vows and sealing it with a kiss.

Our marriage has been:

good … and bad,
romantic … and boring,
united … and divided,
healthy … and so very unhealthy,
committed … and should have been committed … to a psychiatric facility.

The effects of the demands of jobs, children, home maintenance, financial stresses, mutual disappointments, disagreements and drudgery have made for a number of … right sided (see the list on the right, above) marital experiences over the years.

But in moments like we just had, away just us two, are more cleansing and rewarding than the mundane of cleaning a house.

This time remind us that it was love, attraction, and joy in each other that started this wild and crazy life journey together.

The youngest of our three just graduated high school, this is a transition time for us. How lovely to start this new phase, together, away … with not a care in the world … not even dirty toilets.

“My beloved said to me,
“Get up, my true love, my beautiful one,
and come with me.”
Song of Solomon 2:10

the lake

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I’ve Got a Good Father

Posted in FAMILY, life, WONDER, tagged #fathersday, #fathersday2017, #goodgoodfather, #ivegotagoodfather, #loveisachoice on June 18, 2017| Leave a Comment »

good father

I do have a good father.

He has been one who has loved and been committed to me. His expressions of fatherly love have made my personal acceptance of God as my heavenly father easy and natural.

When my father proposed to my mother, he did so with one condition, that she allow him to adopt her two year old daughter (me) as his own. I actually think that it was always in the plan of my heavenly father, that my dad be … my dad, and that I be his daughter.

“See how very much our Father loves us,
for he calls us his children,
and that is what we are”
1 John 3:1a

Love is a choice. It was the choice of my father to love me, it has been my choice to love him. Blood relation does not change that reality, because love is always a choice, or it is not love, but obligation.

I think all of us reach point in our lives when we realize that loving others, loving our children, loving our parents, is a choice that is in our hands.

I remember reaching the developmental stage when I became aware of the faults and mistakes that my parents have made. The things said that stung. The time not given. The things that were important to me that were critiqued and rejected. But I also realized that they were, they are human (I might have come to that realization around the time that I became a parent). They have not done it all right. They did not always comfort me as I desired or needed, they did not always do things with me when I so wanted them to, they did not always say (or not say) what I needed. But, I know that when I look at the big picture (from our beginning to today) they chose to love me.

For many, Father’s Day is a tough day. We may have very valid reasons for feeling unloved, abused or unchosen, and for those who must keep apart from the earthly man who is your father. What I am saying does not apply to you, for your story is one of self preservation.

But, for most of us, it is a matter of choice, our choice, to love the men in our lives who have chosen to love us … imperfectly, humanly.

Happy Father’s Day, to my dad, who I choose to love.

“Yet to all who did receive him,
to those who believed in his name,
he gave the right to become children of God
children born not of natural descent,
nor of human decision or a husband’s will,
but born of God.
John 1:12-13

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As my Son Graduates High School

Posted in FAMILY, GOD, life, The Kids, Walking with God, WONDER, tagged #asmysongraduates, #asmysongraduateshighschool, #classof2017, #eternallegacy, #graduation2017, #lookaround, #nicolenordeman, Legacy on June 8, 2017| Leave a Comment »

To my son, as he graduates tonight from high school:

Tonight you dress in a cap and gown, a shirt and tie.
Tonight you cross a stage, have a tassel crossed over your head.
Tonight is the end, tonight is the beginning.

The other night I needed you to do an errand with me. What I needed was time with you, needed to hear from you about how you feel about graduation.

If I were to give our conversation a one-word theme, it would be legacy.

You shared with me what you wish your legacy would be, but your disappointment that you felt you had failed in accomplishing your desire …
we always have regrets when things come to an end.

To leave a legacy is to leave a gift for those who come after. In reality, we all leave a legacy, some good, and some not so good.

As your mom, I see your legacy quite differently from you.
moms tend to see things differently.

About a month ago I walked down the halls of school with you. As we walked, and talked, there was a constant injection of “hey Ben” from guys in younger grades. Finally I asked how all these students knew who you were.

You, nonchalantly, replied, “I just got to know them. I remember what it was like to be one of the younger kids in school, and how good it was when an older guy knew my name, so I got to know their names.”
this momma saw a good legacy … an eternal legacy

Last week a mom told me of a grad event and how she could not find a student who was comfortable to pray for the meal. Finally she asked a group, “who will pray, so that we can eat our meal?” To which the group replied, “Ben.” She said that when she asked you, you quickly said yes.
this mom saw a good legacy … an eternal legacy

A year ago you spoke in chapel at school. Through your words you communicated the love that God has for us all. You shared that God’s love is not dependent on what we do, what we’ve done, that he is always there for us all.
to share Gods love for others is a great legacy … an eternal legacy

My dear,

You know the joys of applause after performing a play …

and you know that it comes to an end.

To leave a legacy of quietly caring, of being thankful, of sharing of the redemptive story of God’s love (and you know, that redemption is the best theme of any story). These are pieces of an eternal legacy … one that doesn’t sit on a shelf and collect dust.

A few months ago I sent you a song (probably not your style of music, but the words …). If you need a legacy goal for your life, I send you back to Nicole Nordeman’s song Legacy. My hope for you, is “that you choose to love, point to (Christ). Leave an offering, (be) a child of mercy and grace who blessed (his) name unapologetically.”

Keep looking around, Ben. You know how fast a season of life can move, live towards an eternal legacy.

I love you
I love you
I love you,

Mom

feris

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Refreshment

Posted in FAMILY, The Hubby, The Kids, WONDER, tagged #loverofbeauty, #wemustcarryitwithus, Beauty, Refreshment on June 1, 2017| 1 Comment »

I am a lover of beauty.

Beautiful art, beautiful people, beautiful music, beautiful stories, beautiful landscapes, beautiful food, all of it!

To just see, hear, smell, touch and taste that which evokes joyous emotion can fill my cup to the brim, and flowing over. It can revive my mind, heart and soul like a mini revolution.

Sunday afternoon I retuned to Pacific timezone, after twenty hours of packing followed by travel. I was not well-rested, yet I was revived by the myriad of beauty I had encountered throughout the ten day trip to Italy.

Just the day prior, I was walking the streets of Florence. Florence is the birthplace of the Italian Renaissance.

I walked through a tour of the Bargello Museum, and took in works by Michelangelo, Donatello, Benvenuto Cellini and more, listening to the history, known of each piece, touching the cool statues, looking into the eyes formed from the stone, with such detail, such affection, with tears in my own.

While walking the stone streets I paused to hear two gentlemen making stringed music. As their song ended, I turned to continue on my way, but turned, involuntarily, as their rendition of Pachabel’s Canon caused the tears to flow from someplace so deep inside.

In the hot afternoon, I sat in the shade, enjoying the freshness of every morsel of my slice of Italian pizza, while watching a couple dining al fresco, as he lovingly, passionately, kissed her hand, their eyes only able to see those of their lover, both in the seventies.

After inquiring about the famous Italian liqueur, Limoncello, the shop owner pulled out a chilled bottle, offering me a taste that, again, tasted of a freshness I had rarely encountered before.

Beauty, beauty everywhere!

I came home utterly exhausted. But my physical fatigue was no match for the overall sense of refreshment.

And, as I looked across the baggage carousel, with refreshed body, mind and soul, I was, again, moved to tears, to see my love smiling, beautifully, back at me. And, in the hours that followed, my three other most beautiful ones and I reunited.

Beauty, beauty everywhere!

“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful,
we must carry it with us
or we find it not.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

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