Hello darkness, my old friend . . .

I spent Memorial Day weekend at the beach with my son and his wife's family.  My husband was able to lead this family in dedicating their two 2 youngest girls - my granddaughter who is 7 months old and her cousin who is 3 weeks old.  A very fun relaxing time for me.

On the last night my 4 year old granddaughter Mac was riding back from our family dinner with me and my daughter-in-law's mother. I didn’t want her to fall asleep because if she fell asleep, I would have to carry her up a flight of stairs to the beach house.  I told her to sing us a song - This is the song she sang:

Hello darkness, my old friend,  
I've come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence

She had learned this song from the Trolls movie - I remember it from my high school days sung by Simon and Garfunkel.  Bill and I had taken her and her brother and cousins to see the movie while we were in Texas for Thanksgiving.  The movie had such great music I ordered a CD for each family.  My son said they played it in the car all the time. 

I laughed as I heard this very sobering song being sung by a 4 year old.  It spoke to me - as does silence!!

This morning, I'm at home back to my somewhat normal routine - catching up on e-mail and cooking for a church member whose husband passed away while we were gone. I stopped to read a blog post from my sister-in-law.  Her husband, my brother, Brian, died suddenly 5 years ago this summer of a brain bleed.  Her life has taken quite the turn.  She writes a weekly blog.  Many times it is just what I need to hear.  Today was no exception.  I want to share it with you as well.

The Healing Power of Silence--Debi Newman Reisling

          God moved heaven and earth to get me into this wait-listed, 10-day silent retreat.  It had taken me eleven years to arrive. Why do I have to have a lingering cough from a cold that began over a week ago when I am sharing a room with a roommate who needs to sleep, and I must be quiet during prayer?  Why? After waiting all those years to get here, why would I be banished like this?  

I returned to my silent room and sat down in the most comfortable chair you can imagine and began my private session—no one could hear my coughs.  I did okay but mainly I discovered that the God of all comforts had something to show me through this seeming disaster.  It’s not so bad to pray in your room overlooking the beautiful lush green Rockies with snow tipped peaks (this was before the 3-5 inches of snow that began that afternoon).  I wiped my tears and enjoyed my setting.

          Things were looking better as I got back on track with the schedule and walked down to the morning church service.  I spent time in the Guest chapel before the service asking God to help me not cough.  It was a miracle; I did not cough, but I did cry.  I cried a lot.  I cried and cried and I don’t cry.  I’m not a Cryer so I didn’t expect to cry, but I do know I need to cry so I didn’t stop the tears.  But I connected to what the tears were about as the service began.  The monks in their white church robes triggered a painful reality about my son who was on the journey of wondering if he should be a monk when his life took a detour to wearing a white prison uniform.  I needed to talk about this.  There are retreat leaders here.  There are people to talk to.  I’ve been invited to talk, but I need to talk to a monk. It is monk business that is making me cry, at least that is what I think.  So I write a note and don’t expect an immediate response; yet I am told to go down to the bookstore at two and talk to a monk.

          Fr. Charles is sent and I spill out my story, and I show him a picture of Ben and me taken just the Sunday before.   He looks at it and listens; I cry some more.  When I finish my rambling, he tells me, you know this is about you, right.  You are crying for you.  You have been through a lot and you need to cry.  Of course, I have a lot going on; and he doesn’t even know the half of it!  I think my tears are telling me that.  But, no, I don’t automatically think my tears are about me.  I think they are about how I am failing my son somehow, that I wasn’t enough to keep him on track, that there was something else I could do.  I mean I don’t say that to people.  I don’t live that out every day…but when I come to a place like this, and strip away all my normal distractions, that is exactly what I think.  I think I’m crying because my son needs something more from me!  Something I should have been able to give him if I were just a better mother.  There’s some way I can make up for that if I can just figure out what.  I can help him.  He needs my help.

          Well, he does indeed need my help so says Father Charles.  He told me that what Ben needs most of me is to take care of myself and be one with God.  That is how I can heal Ben best—heal me.  I hear him.  I really do.  And as he talks, I know that is true not only  for Ben but also for Rachel, Nate and Lila.  It’s true for Paul and for my ministry.  What the people in my life need most is not more of what I can do but more of God in me (and in all the other places He is in their lives).  It's what Irvin Yalom calls the healing presence.  I know that is what has happened through the years as I have counseled others.  It’s not my training or my brilliance, rather it is God’s healing presence in me that directs people’s souls to a new way of connect to Him that results in their healing.  It’s not whether I do a certain thing, but it is for me to connect more deeply to how God is in me so that God can connect more deeply to all the people in my world.

Psalm 46:10:  Be still, and know that I am God.

If you are interested in reading more of her blogs,  you can find them at 
http://teatimeforyoursoul.com

A Tale of Two Mothers

This is Mother's Day Weekend at my house.  My family is already celebrating me as a mom.  I have received a new lounger for the pool, a bouquet of flowers, cards and a popcorn popper.  They have also given me the opportunity to attend my first ever 'silent retreat.'  I'm at a convent in Nashville with 12 other women.  We are spending 24 hours nurturing our soul in quiet along with 3 classes of (optional) holy yoga. 

Being the planner that I am, I spent much of the day yesterday thinking about what I would 'do' at this retreat.  I had thought about bringing a scrapbook that I have been working on for more than 5 years.  It is a photo journal of my married life.  My goal is for it to be up to date by my 40th wedding anniversary.  I have 10 months to complete it if I'm going to reach my goal.  

I also wanted to complete setting up a prayer journal that my sister had given me 2 years ago for my birthday.  To help with this, I decided to take down my 'War Room' closet.  I liked the idea when I saw the movie and it did help me organize my prayers and visually see who and what I was praying for; but that set up wasn't for me.  I took down all the pictures and prayer cards and put them in an envelope.  I'm going to put them in my prayer journal.  (maybe while I'm here, maybe when I return home)

While thinking about that little project, I decided that I would bring my journals to the retreat.  I'm not a person who writes daily in a journal but over the course of my married life, I have journaled off and on.  I went to a bookshelf and picked up 5 journals and put them in my bag.  

This morning I have been reading through the first one.  I started it in 1986.  As I read through the pages, I began thinking about where our family has been and how God has protected and provided for us.  Between 1986 and 1998, we had moved 8 times and served in 6 different churches.  Much of my journal was about praying for God's guiding and the disciplining of my children.

In 1998, my life changed and I was thrust back into a role

I thought was ending.  I become a mom again at 42.  Today that child is 18 years old and about to enter his senior year of high school.  He has been reared by a mom that has been scattered.  She has helped her husband plant 2 churches, spent 10 years taking care of aging parents as well as becoming a mother-in-law and grandmother to 5 grandchildren.  During this time, a young life was growing up right under her nose.  This child has not had the undivided attention of his mom but has had to share her with so many others who were clamoring for her attention.  This mom tried to be everything to everyone and in doing so has squandered many years that could have been used to disciple and nurture this young soul.  

There are tears in my eyes as I think about the 2 moms that have reared my children.  One mom was very intentional about teaching her children the books of the Bible, as well as memorizing scripture and guarding their hearts.  She did not let them go 'trick or treating' or believe in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.  She always had Christian music playing in the car and even participated in a campaign called 'Turn off Your TV'  She and her family did that for one month.  Her children grew up, completed college, got jobs, spouses and children.   

The other mom found herself in her 40's with a toddler, aging parents and churches that needed constant care.  This mom has lived in survivor mode for over 15 years.  This mom has hardly had time to take care of herself spiritually much less disciple another child.  She is living with a lot of regret.  She loves this child and is so proud of the young man he is becoming.  She is regretting not giving him the tools he needs to succeed in this ever-changing world.  She did not spend enough time teaching him about God and his Word.  She let the short time he was at church be his main teaching.  She knew that she could not depend on the church to be the religious educator of her children but she allowed that to happen with this child.  She has asked God to forgive her and He has.

She continues to pray daily for this child.  He has struggled finding his place in his family, not to mention his place in his school and in the world.   Even though this has been a very difficult post for me to write, I know it was needed for me to put into words what has been in my heart.

I'm not sure where you are this Mother's Day weekend.  You may be struggling with infertility, death of a child by abortion, a prodigal, or just the everyday disappointments that come with being a mom. 

I am clinging to a verse that is so very special to me - It is Joel 2:25 - 'I wish restore to you the years the swarming locust have eaten.'  This is God's promise to me concerning all the failures and shortcomings I have as a mom.  God has promised to restore and I am resolved to be part of that restoration with the years I have left on this earth.   I am excited to see what lies ahead for this child and his aging mom!!

Never, Never, Never Give Up

This morning I am reflecting on the life of my dad. The famous statement by Winston Churchill, 'Never, never, never give up' reminds me of my dad.  One year ago today, he died.  He died around noon on January 11, 2016.  He died on the day that Alabama was playing for the national championship against Clemson.  My dad was a diehard Auburn fan and somewhat of a trash talker.  I immediately thought to myself - he can't take seeing Alabama win another national championship.  Ironically when I went to the newsstand on Wednesday, January 13, to buy a paper that would have his obituary printed in it, the Birmingham News was filled with articles about Alabama winning the National Championship against Clemson.  As an Alabama fan, it was a win-win for me.  I bought several papers and got what I considered a 2 for 1. 

However, that is not what is on my mind this morning.  After my dad's death, I brought home the contents of the bottom drawer of his dresser.  It contained letters, cards, pictures, all kinds of memorabilia that were important to him.  Some people have a whole house of remembrances; he had one drawer.  My dad was a minimalist.  While looking through the contents of this drawer, I found a testimony he had given at Roebuck Park Baptist Church on March 14, 1992.  It was testimony of God's provision for him and my mom during a time when he had been forced to close his business, Universal Interiors, a flooring company he had owned and operated for over 25 years.  Below is the testimony that he gave.

On Friday, January 5, 1990, I closed the doors to a business I had been in for 26 years. On Monday morning, I went back to the office to do those things you have to do when you have a business failure.  I then realized for the first time in over 41 years, I did not have a job.  I was depressed, dejected and felt a great sense of failure.  I called the church office to see if I could talk to Bro. Doug, Betty Plyman sensed a need for me to talk to him and in a few minutes times we had met to talk it over.  

I cannot remember what we said but he was sympathetic and gave me some assurance of what could be done.  I had acquired a huge money debt during the time I owned the business.  I had good years and made money and bad years and did not.  I supplemented the bad years with loans of money I acquired by personal guarantee of property I owned, namely the business property or my home.  I had always felt through the tough years that I would make it; but after my banker turned down the financial plan to carry on the business I was convinced that it was over.  

The toughest thing I ever had to do was to sit down with Jerry and tell her about it.  Of course, she was crushed and asked me the question, why?  We cried together and had prayer.  She got a job and I began looking.  When you're 60 and ugly, it is real hard to find a good paying job.  I was determined not to get back into the business I knew the best.  To be honest, I was just ticked off at it.  Steve Walker connected me to a man in the office supply business and I started back to work March 1. In May, Amy, my youngest daughter got married.  You can imagine what she was doing through during all of this, as well as the rest of the family.   

On May 16, I had open heart surgery, five big ones.  The good Lord saw fit to let me stay around for a while.  I shall never forget the feeling of His power with me, and I know it was due to you good folks, my family and others who were praying for my recovery.  I recovered and reloaded.  Rich Owens, my good buddy never knew the type of business I was in. He got his fireman friend to give me a job in the business I knew best.  On July 5, I began.  Being on straight commission, I had good and bad months, so I had to supplement my regular work and job with other part-time work.  I also forgot to tell you that Sherry Farrow got Jerry a job at O'Neal Steel that began on January 15.  She saw that we ate and the medical insurance Jerry had through O'Neal paid all of my hospital and doctor bills. Aren't wives great!! Anyway, to cut all of this down, we are now making it.  Not steak yet, just hamburger - and all the way God has been there.  You may have second thoughts about tithing the money that your friends give you or money that comes in unexpectedly, or money you can get from your cash value life insurance.  Jim Mikul, my insurance man, has been so good to get what we needed so quickly.  

Jerry and I were married in 1955 and returning back to God 10% of the money He supplied was no problem.  I confess to you, not one time have we cheated him out of a tithe, during all of this.  

If I have learned one thing, it is this - it is all His.  Maybe this is why I have had my trouble.  I did not use the other 90% he supplied wisely.  One thing the Lord has shown me and shown me well, is that He doesn't need the money He gives.  He just wants us.  I thought I loved Him before January 5, 1990. My love for Him then cannot be compared to the Love I have for Him this morning.

In this envelope is my tithe to God plus a mission gift.  Not long from now, it will be double or more as it was before!

As I read this testimony, I was overwhelmed with the man God had given me to be my father.  His commitment to the Lord in the area of his finances was a testimony that continued until his death last year.  My dad spent the last 25 years of his life paying back all the money that he owed when he shut down his business.  He could have easily declared bankruptcy but he did not believe that was what God wanted him to do.  About 2 years before his death, he had paid back all the money he owed.  During that time, he never stopped giving his tithe to his local church.  In addition to that he supported many other organizations. I spent weeks after his death calling and having his name removed from organizations he had supported over the years. 

Several years ago I was reading Psalm 37.  When I got to verse 23, I stopped and read it over and over.  This was the testimony of my dad's life.  At that time, I wrote the words 'my dad' in my Bible beside these verses.

The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him;

though he may stumble, he will not fall,

for the Lord upholds him with his hand.

I was young and now I am old,

yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken

 or their children begging bread.

They are always generous and lend freely;

their children will be a blessing.

Psalms 37: 23-26