Feeds:
Posts
Comments

 

I can remember the cool fall morning the call came out.  At our church we call it  “Shout Out”.   It is an email that lists the needs of people in our community. Those who are sick, or in need.

  Sean was on duty that day, but my girls and I responded to the call.   It was for a widow that had just lost husband in a very sudden death at hunting camp.  The call was to help around her property.  I realized then that death does not stop life.  The cows still need to be milked,  apples still need harvesting,  lawns still need to be mowed.

 Life goes on even in death.

 

We bundled up and headed out to the property.  When we arrived, the men were already blowing leaves and mowing.  Others were putting away things for the winter, or fixing odds and ends.    I could see the widow peering looking through the window periodically.  How can I reach out to her Lord?  What would I say?  I don’t even know her.

We quickly set about our work.  I surveyed the scene and saw multitudes of apples on trees, as well as on the ground.  I gathered up my girls and the other straggling children and we harvested apples.  It took us better than three hours!  

My girls had to use the bathroom at some point, so we knocked on the door to ask if we could come in.  I introduced myself to her friend who opened the door with, “it is so good of you to come and help….. ”   her voice trailed off as she glanced over toward the widow.  She looked at me.  I didn’t want her to feel the obligation to say anything to me.  She nodded, agreeing with her friend.  They directed us to the bathroom, and then we quickly headed back outside, not wanting in any way to intrude.

It was a beautiful afternoon.  Mom’s raking leaves, kids jumping in the piles……the property looked great when we finished up.

I hugged my new friend and asked her what she wanted done with the apples.  

“I will probably just give them away.  They will otherwise just sit there and go bad.”

“Can we take them and process them for you?”, I asked her.

“Sure, that would be nice.”  I could tell by her response that she could have gone one way or the other.  There had been too many other decisions to make lately.  Apples were the least of her concern.

Our friends brought the apples to my home in their pick up.  10 five gallon buckets– FULL!!

The next morning I began processing the apples, one bucket at a time.  I realized by that afternoon, that it was going to take me a long time to get through them.  I didn’t want them to go bad.  I called a few of my girlfriends.  By the next morning, they all showed up with thier cutting boards, their favorite knife, and apple peelers ready to work.  I cannot even begin to tell you what happened around that kitchen table on those afternoons.

We laughed, cried, and prayed for our newly widowed friend.  We encouraged one another in our own marriages and as mothers.

By the end of the week, we had processed over 30 quarts of applesauce, and 15 gallon bags of apple pie filling. 

We wrapped the jars up in cloth and a ribbon and delivered them to our friend.  When she opened the door, her eyes filled with tears.  I wonder if she thought we would really come and bring her the goods as we had said.  I know that I had been dissapointed in grief, and I could see that same look of surprise in her.

We sat for a few moments, and embraced wife to wife.  She missed him.  I tried to understand.

Fall was in the air in my home that week.  The fragrance of community.  The seasoning of friendship and shared hearts as we gathered around the widow and the apples…….

I want to hear from you! 

When is  your Birthday?   09/24/70

Top three favorite music artists?  Kari Jobe, Carrie Underwood, Hosanna Integrity

Favorite meal?  Mediterranean anything!  I love basil….

Top 3 favorite books?  Redeeming Love, The penny, The Bible

What inspires you?  my family, worshipping at the piano, being barefoot in the garden, :)

I was reflecting this morning on what it really means to be a mom.  

Our children often mirror us.  We as mothers have a very high calling.  It doesn’t feel that way so many days as I get caught up in the loads of laundry, clutter from daily living,  and dirty dishes.  I often have to check my attitude and the condition of my heart and dig deeper into Christ to be reminded that being a mother is a calling.  An honor. A huge responsibility.  We are teachers.  We coach, cheerlead, and role model.  We are the chef, the maid, the chauffer, the therapist, …. the list goes on and on.  I stop today and ask God to show me how He desires for me to respond in everything.  That He would continue to strip me of my selfishness and give me His heart of service for my daughters.  I am reminded that loving them means much more than saying “I love you.”   True agape love means setting aside selfish ambition and looking beyond the mounds of work I have to do.  To love means doing the right thing which is rarely the easy thing to do.  

Heavenly Father, today I ask that you will impress upon my heart YOUR HEART for my daughters.  Show me how to pray for them and continue to teach me how to lay aside self, and serve them with your love.

What does being a Mother mean to you?

I have not done much writing this past year.  But I do love when I feel inspired to do so.  As a writer, I believe that it is important to be disciplined about writing daily, whether in my journal, or on my blog, whether I feel like it or not.  Those muscles get atrophied so quickly!   I have taken a particular interest in capturing memories and have had fun reading  to my daughters.  Thank you for faithfully reading my blog, and I am planning to do more faithful writing.

 

“Our Lord finds our desire, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

It went on to say…”It’s almost like we have forgotten that spiritual transformation is possible. It’s possible that Christ can be formed in us. It’s possible to love like Jesus loved and live like Jesus lived. It’s possible, but first we must want that. We must want that more than we want anything else in this world.”   ~C.S. Lewis

  I believe that on this side of eternity, a  temptation to exist in a watered-down state will be there on the sidelines of the “straight and narrow” path attempting to lure us away.  I have been contemplating what it means to seek HIM first, to taste and see that HE is good.  What is required of me is the decision to come to Him first with a desire to know Him.  He is constantly drawing me to Himself.  As I seek Him, I find Him.  As He draws me to Him, the subtle delicacies of this world  hold less and less appeal.  I am encouraged  that as I continually offer  Him the sacrafice of my praise, the empty spaces, the broken pieces, that He gives me the strength in my weakness to overcome.  He promises to change me from glory to greater glory.  I have a living Christ that makes intercession for me, a living God that is doing a work that only He can do….taking down the walls I have built stone by stone and building a memorial alter that says, “Look what I have done.”  May He be given the glory for it all.

True love requires a decision.  And when the decision is made, there will most likely be pain, but beauty allows follows the rain.  ~Storie.

Sara was three and a half when Kent began dating a woman from the chruch.  She had a three and a half year old son and was looking for part-time work.  Now that Kent was single, he would need someone to watch the kids while he was working. 

A match made in heaven?  No. Although it seemed to fit at the time.

When he went to her home, everything appeared to be in order, just as he liked.  her small mexican-style home was clean and neatly kept.  All lights green.  She was a petite blonde, with straight hair to her waist, her skin tanned from the Southern California beach weather.  The yard was simple, but well manicured.  Not too bad, for a single mother, Ken thought.

She had a small wading pool already filled and heating in the morning sun.  She had suggested that the kids bring their suits and towels and go for a swim while they talked.  Michael brought his skate board, and Sara brought her baby.

From the first time she put her hands on Sara, ordering her around, Sara felt afraid.  She didn’t want to be left alone with her.  But perhaps it would be better here than the last place her daddy had taken her where during nap time the young boy would sneak into Sara’s room.  The young boy would come every day and ask her to do things she was already afraid of.  Sara learned to pretend asleep, rolling towards the wall trembing inside, afraid that he would come back again.

After a few times there, Sara told her dad that she didn’t want to go back.  She didn’t tell him why, just that she didn’t like it there and didn’t want to go there anymore.  Maybe it was just coincidence with the timing of meeting Sue, his new friend from church, but anyway, Sara was relieved that she wouldn’t have to go back and face the boy.

Sue picked them up from the apartments early one morning.  As they headed back up the PCH, Sara perched herself in the front seat, as thought to take flight. Afraid that she may be caged instead. 

“Why are you crying?” Sara asked Sue, as she saw a tear rolling down her right cheek.

Before Sara knew it, she saw a hand coming at her.  Sue slapped her while yelling, “DO NOT EVER ask me that again!!!!!!”

Sara sucked the swells of emotion back down inside of herself, afraid to expose herself. 

She looked out the window the rest of the way as hot tears silently fell.

By Storie 2001

Dancing in the ashes and the rubble at my feet

I look toward the heavens…your face I long to see

you bathe me in your mercy, you clothe me in your grace

You robe me in your righteousness

you hold me face to face……

While dancing in the ashes

I long for the day when we will be face to face

Seated at the table in your heavenly home

I can see the scars on your hands and feet

Your touch heals

Restoring us to you

we’ll never be the same

You bathe us in your mercy

You clothe us in your grace

You robe us in your rightousness

You hold us face to face

While dancing in the ashes….

In this world that we live

There’ will be ashes at our feet

but living streams of water flow

to places so deep

won’t you come and join the feast

He has prepared

In communion He will pass the cup

and break the living bread

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.