Helping Women Move From Fear into Faith
I stepped outside into a beautiful April morning and did a little trimming in our mini-yard. Compared to the acre we lived on earlier, this one is on the tiny side. I happened along into a small spot in between our house and Debbie’s. There, hidden away, is the most beautiful profuse light blush colored rose bush. I was reminded again that I’m reaping things I didn’t sow.
Today I took out an instrument of torture on the lovely path— the instrument I formerly referred to as my bike.
Dolly—my friend of over forty years. It’s funny that when you’re young and nonchalantly making friends, you don’t think ahead to how a friendship might play out. How you’ll find yourself years later, thinking like that person or even talking like her. I realize today that I’m pretty much a compilation of all my relationships plus the Grace of God.
true blue: marked by unswerving loyalty Hey Love…in jackson hospital in montgomery. chronic heart failure they say. on lasix and will be…
I lost a dear friend this week. Actually, she’s not lost. It’s me who’s lost just knowing she’s not here. Her earthly ties were cut loose and she flew right into the arms of Jesus. I’m hurting for my loss but no doubt the loss is felt much more by her dear husband of over 60 years and all the extended family who loved her so much.
A funny thing happened recently. I looked in the mirror two days after my eye surgery and saw an unfamiliar face looking back at me. I studied my skin with all its splotchiness and thought, “The sedation meds must’ve had some weird effect!” I couldn’t imagine why my skin had taken on a different color and older look.
My daughter Katherine was about three years old when I walked upstairs and saw a long row of shoes–our family’s shoes–up and down the hallway, near the bathroom door. There she was, bright eyed with that perpetual smile. “Joy” was the nickname I’d given her. When I asked about the shoes she said, “You told me we’re having a shower so I got everyone’s shoes ready.”
One Saturday morning years ago, I was cooking breakfast for a table full of ravenous teenage boys. A thought came to my mind, “You don’t even know who you’re serving.” It reminded me that all acts of love are done without our awareness of the ultimate outcome. Who knew the character and accomplishments that would be present in the lives of those boys? God did.
Apparently God likes change. He seems to plunk us down in strange uncomfortable circumstances where life doesn’t flow naturally and easily. And maybe we can’t even find the toothpaste.
We just celebrated Eliza Jo’s first birthday with a “pool party” in our back yard. All the cool kids were there.
The grandparent hype is true. Full heart; big feelings.
Recalling my childhood I don’t remember ever talking about feelings. The unspoken message was to be quiet and good. We knew our parents loved us unconditionally, but it wasn’t exactly in vogue to share feelings.
I like ruts. Sameness, ritual, routine. I don’t tire of the same coffee, the same neighbors, same food. I like living in the same house where our babies learned to walk. The house Tom built.