Think Fun!

Suddenly, I realize it's past the noon hour and my stomach is giving me the signal to stop and find nourishment. The pungent smell of garlic roasting in the oven mixes and marries with the celery and onions sauteing in a large pan on the stove top. The bright green and white mixture brightens as the heat makes them dance and the gray skies of winter are forgotten. I get lost in a sensory experience and my spirits begin to lift.

Perhaps there are those who would read these words and think “she's taken leave of her senses.” If I look into past seasons of my life, I'd certainly agree with them. It wouldn't take long for me to conjure up memories of being a single mom arriving home late from work to face the dilemma of planning a meal for my two children. Certainly, during that time of my life, I found little to shout about when it came to meal preparation. So, where did I discover my new attitude towards culinary ventures? And is it possible that some day you current cooking “haters” will wake up to a new found interest in meal preparation?

Basing my answer strictly on my own experience, I could only hope that others would come to one day find joy and a sense of peace and comfort in that place called the kitchen. Let me start by saying every cooking experience does not make my face light up or send me to the computer to type an expose for you to read. Living alone, I've discovered, provides little motivation for spending hours prepping, cooking and the clean up that is required after a meal. However, it is a whole different story when the efforts will end in a gift I can lavish on someone in need or someone I love. I also find little enjoyment when I am faced with time constraints, one of the things I see so often draining the pleasure from our lives in the world today.

Our lives are largely lived through our five senses. In today's world of cash and carry, fast food and technology, we often bypass the pleasures that could be ours for the taking. Who hasn't heard the phrase “stop and smell the roses or the coffee?” or I might add, “the garlic, onions and celery.”

Often the scents of the kitchen invite me back to a time when life was slower and grandmas wore aprons and had time to fry chicken. It's part of who I am, like one of the puzzle pieces that I don't want missing when my life is finished here on earth.

I'm certainly not suggesting that every person reading this will have the same memories of grandma or that one day every individual will somehow miraculously morph into a Paula Deen or Bobby Flay. On the other hand, I do believe there are both inherent gifts within each of us and others that are passed along from one generation to the next. My opinion is there are too many constraints on our time. Other moments are wasted on the insignificant when we each might discover a hidden talent or gift that would bring great pleasure to our lives.

A dear friend sent me a gift in the mail this week. When I opened the Illustrated Discovery Journal and learned that there were quite a few pages set aside for making collages, there was a brief moment when I felt a twinge of fear or possibly dread. As I continued reading the first chapter, I was happy to discover the following phrases, “Think fun, delight, playing... think seven and a brand new set of paper dolls.” When was the last time you actually had fun? I would like to suggest that in our busy world we've lost the simplicity of life. We rarely take the time to experience life through our five senses or allow ourselves time to simply enjoy that thing we become so engaged with we forget the time and perhaps even miss a meal.

You don't have to look too far to get clues where your passions lie? What kind of magazines do you like to browse through? What makes your heart beat a little faster when you've been feeling apathetic about life. Or where do you see yourself when your heart suddenly comes to a place of peace and rest? What are you holding in your hand... a paint brush, a shovel, a spoon or a needle and thread? Do you find yourself decorating a home in your head or writing the words of a song?

Picture this....I've had soup on since I began this post. I open the lid of my crock pot. The aroma is so inviting as I bring a spoonful of the liquid to my lips. I'm doing a taste test. It's not a meal. I'm not committed to this new recipe just yet. But I will never know if I like the finished creation unless I try it out. Some of you just KNOW that spending a day in the kitchen on a winter day will NOT be the thing that makes you feel you've lived life to the full today. Go ahead and scratch that off your list if you are certain. But I challenge you to take just one day a month or one day a week to carve out some time and leave all the time constraints behind.

So, why not pick up that camera, cake decorating kit or hammer? We're only passing through this world once. Will your puzzle be complete when all the sands have found their way to the bottom of the hour glass? Think seven or ten or back before life became so crowded with obligations. You owe it to yourself and to God, who gave you your one and only passions and preferences.

Go ahead, think fun, think delight, think playing! And if you are saying as I know some of you might be, “I can't think of a thing I enjoyed when I was a child.” There's no time like the present. Perhaps its time for you to hit the local preschool and spend an hour observing some children in a game of pretend. Who knows what might happen? You might find yourself braiding home made Danish or painting your first ever portrait. Don't be so serious! Think FUN!!!

 

 

My grandmother who donned apron and fried chicken....

 

 



 

And cooking IS art... as my 8 yr old granddaughter said, "look at the flower in the mixing bowl!"

 

 

Grab your chalk...

 

...or rolling pin

 

...or push plow

 

 ...or guitar...

and PLAY... think FUN!

 

Seven Happy Stars

For days I had been looking at this picture my six year old granddaughter had drawn before Christmas on a small white board. I remembered her patting me on the side and trying to say something about the stars while her mother and I chatted with each other. I guess you could say I only caught bits and pieces of her thoughts that day. When I asked her later what it was she had relayed to me, she had forgotten and the moment seemed lost. All through Christmas, I found myself smiling back at the smiling stars and chuckling over the uncomfortable position of baby Jesus, head hanging over the edge of the manger bed.

It wasn't until after Christmas, God began to speak to me about the picture. My idea to write something light and funny about her childlike view of the Christ child was not to be. As I found myself reading in the book of Philippians, it popped into my head. “And Jesus had no place to rest his head.” I wasn't sure where to find this reference so I continued to read in chapter two.

“Fill up and complete my joy by living in harmony and being of the same mind and one in purpose, having the same love, being in full accord and of one harmonious mind and intention.

Do nothing from factional motives [through contentiousness, strife, selfishness, or for unworthy ends] or prompted by conceit or empty arrogance. Instead, in the true spirit of humility (lowliness of mind) let each regard the others as better than and superior to himself [thinking more highly of one another than you do of yourselves]. (Philippians 2:2-3)

I paused before reading the rest of the scripture. I was familiar with the words coming next. However, I found myself reading and re-reading the passage as the picture my little one had drawn flickered on and off at the back of my mind.

Let this same attitude and purpose and [humble] mind be in you which was in Christ Jesus: [Let Him be your example in humility:] Who, although being essentially one with God and in the form of God [possessing the fullness of the attributes which make God God], did not think this equality with God was a thing to be eagerly grasped or retained, But stripped Himself [of all privileges and rightful dignity], so as to assume the guise of a servant (slave), in that he became like men and became a human being.”( Philippians 2:5-7)

Suddenly, the humor I'd enjoyed before Christmas turned to a real life application of the Christmas story for me personally. Bedtime can be somewhat of a ritual for me as I position my pillows and straighten all the wrinkles in my sheets, comforter and quilt before I can settle into the position for sleep. I have to admit that much of my life and I believe that of our culture has come to revolve around comfort and ease. The idea of stripping ourselves of all our privileges and those things we feel we have “a right to” is not something we relish. While I have certainly heard messages about the real environment the Christ child was born into, in hind sight I realized I may not have given this as much thought this Christmas. Coming through a very difficult season prior to the holidays with my father's cancer, I was ready for a restful time with my family.

My heart was certainly thankful for the healing my dad had experienced allowing us all the opportunity to be together for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. The past several months there were days when my faith seemed to be as faltering and weak at moments as the toothpick-like legs of the manger bed my granddaughter had pictured in her drawing. Rest had been an illusive thing and there had been many sleepless nights as I lay my head on the pillow.

“Work out(cultivate, carry out to the goal, and fully complete) your own salvation with reverence and awe and trembling (self-distrust), with serious caution, tenderness of conscience, watchfulness against temptation, timidly shrinking from whatever might offend God and discredit the name of Christ).

[Not in your own strength] for it is God Who is all the while effectually at work in you [energizing and creating in you the power and desire], both to will and to work for His good pleasure and satisfaction and delight.” (Philippians 2:12-13)

It was evident to me that we would not have made it through the months of August to December had God not been there to carry us through as He energized and created both the power and physical strength to accomplish His will as we fought the temptation to give up and give in to our physical weakness and desire for comfort. My sister and I both know individuals who have served parents, children or spouses for longer periods of time and continue to serve their loved ones when it seems their strength would be depleted. I would be less than honest if I were not to share my struggle with the grumbling, complaining, questioning and doubting mentioned in verse fifteen. We live in a culture that promotes not only self sufficiency but self preservation. My heart is as susceptible to this message as the next person. I must be watchful against this temptation and shrink from what would discredit the Son of Man who surrendered to birth as a mere man in a lowly manger.

We often pack up the Christmas story with the Nativity, tree and ornaments as if the whole story of "God became man" was over. But what was I to do with this simple child's drawing of seven smiling stars looking down on the baby Jesus, with no crib nor place for his head? As I finished chapter two of Philippians, I read these words....

“Do all things without grumbling and faultfinding and complaining against [against God] and questioning and doubting [among yourselves]. That you may show yourselves blameless and guileless, innocent and uncontaminated, children of God without blemish (faultless, unrebukable) in the midst of a crooked and wicked generation[spiritually perverted and perverse], among whom you are seen as bright lights (stars or beacons shining out clearly) in the dark world.” (Philippians 2:14-15)

I couldn't bring myself to erase the precious picture from the white board, but I knew it was only a matter of time before one of the grandchildren asked to do so. I thank God for computers and the ability to store pictures on my hard drive. I'm pretty sure I will retain this picture in my heart without the help of my computer files. It deeply impacted my life in a way I never thought possible. It encouraged a desire in my heart to grow into a person with the true spirit of humility and be willing like my Savior to offer my life to serve others.

Thinking back, I remember only one small part of what my granddaughter had said that day as she tried to get our attention.

“They say that the stars smiled down that night on the baby Jesus.”

Just like the scholars, or wise men as we often call them, followed the stars to find the infant King, God's Word is still speaking today if we are open to hearing what it has to say. In today's world, especially at the holidays, we can be as distracted as I was that day when a six year old tried to get my attention.

The command to "work out our own salvation" with fear and trembling can be confusing in light of other scriptures that tell us we are "saved by faith" and its not of ourselves we are saved but by faith and trust in Christ. It's in reading the entire scripture above we see that Christ was willing to become a baby and make Himself a servant that we are able to find the strength and help we need to become beacons of light in this dark world.

I pray my granddaughter's picture of seven happy stars blinking their pleasure at an uncomfortable Savior will always be there to remind me that heaven smiles on us when we give of ourselves to elderly parents, the homeless, the forgotten, the lonely.

God, help me not to forget He wasn't drafted. He volunteered to....

Leave the glories of heaven to become a man....

But stripped Himself [of all privileges and rightful dignity], so as to assume the guise of a servant (slave), in that he became like men and became a human being.”( Philippians 2:5-7)

Father, help me remember my granddaughter's picture of a Christ with no place to rest His head. Please help me not to grumble and complain, but, willingly, become a servant to others. And would you remind me not to be too distracted to see the stars winking an encouragement from time to time?

Good and Perfect Gifts

The dilapidated vehicle in front of me first caught my attention when I realized the driver was at least 15 miles below the speed limit. I was on a mission to get lunch for my father and with the lunch hour approaching I felt my body's need for nourishment as well. It didn't take long for me to get a glimpse of her silver hair and recognize she was headed to the same fast food chain as she inched her way into the parking lot. Grabbing my purse and coupon, I headed to the door, believing the slow driver had chosen the drive thru window option. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I was surprised as she rounded the corner. Speaking to me, a total stranger, she explained her dilemma of finding a parking place.

I stood behind her at the counter and listened to her simple order of one piece of chicken and a drink. I wondered if she were unable to afford anything more or whether she like some elderly folks had a smaller appetite these days. Her clothing was clean but mismatched and it was obvious she was well past the prime of life. But then, I have left out an important fact that I must share with you. She was not a total stranger to me. I'd seen her several times in the last almost 36 years. I'd known her briefly as a quiet but very conscientious nurse on the maternity ward in November of 1976. I'd recognize her face anywhere. I was impressed at this meeting with just how much she'd aged since the last time I'd spotted her in public.

Those who know me well are aware of my own propensity to strike up a conversation with strangers in elevators, hospital halls and parking lots. I often find myself recognizing students I taught years ago in kindergarten. On occasion, after a short chit chat with a former student, we both walk away with a feeling of being special to one another. Being remembered as a teacher or a student, it really doesn't matter. We all like to know we've touched someone's life in a significant way. Many times these chance meetings have led to God moments in which I learned something about myself or was able to bless the other person with a kind word or prayer.

This “not so chance” meeting, on the fast food chain's sidewalk, was not about my blessing another, but a blessing and thought provoking moment designed for me. I've thought a lot about the fact that I didn't choose to say the words to her that she said to me. Perhaps its because I've had walls up the last couple of months. Walls that needed to come down.

“I think I know you, your face is familiar. I took care of you at the hospital when you had your baby.” she announced as she pulled up the chair next to me. I was scarfing my lunch down in order to get to my father's by lunchtime. I glanced around for a clock to see how much time I might give to this conversation. Nothing could have surprised me more and certainly I was curious to hear what she remembered.

For sake of her privacy, I'll call her Ms. Liza, who much like myself on my good days, seemed to have the gift of gab. Before too long, I'd learned her name, her age (95) and much about both her career as a nurse and her life history. A single parent of three after her husband died at age 49, she and another nurse had been responsible for taking care of young mothers like myself that Bicentennial year of 1976. I shared with her my memory of the one thing I remembered most about her care for me. “When you would come in to take my pulse, I wondered how you were able to get a read you touched my arm so lightly.” She seemed so pleased to hear I remembered even this small detail. I told her the details of my tiny, beautiful girl's birth were still very clear in my mind. She continued to share story after story of locals that she'd seen come into this world, mentioning names of parents, children, teachers and local business people. Did I mention there was nothing wrong with her memory?

Though I felt a pull to be leaving to get lunch to my father, I found myself drawn into her stories. She ticked off stories of helping others through the years, those that had no one else to care for them. Once she helped a dying neighbor for four years, even while being on crutches herself. At first I noticed the gridlines of wrinkles crisscrossing her face but then found myself captivated by her lashless, twinkling eyes. I didn't remember them being so full of expression and a real passion for life those days in 1976. I also don't remember the infectious laugh. But then, she and I were different women in those days. She, about 59, perhaps caring for those three children, I about to embark on mothering for the very first time.

“This is what I remember about you,” I told her. “You were very gentle.” It seemed to please her to hear those simple words.

“You know a week from today it will be 36 years since you were my nurse. Next Monday is my daughter's birthday. I remember that day so well, the day my life changed forever.” I shared. Another smile broke over her crinkled face.

I guess I expected this chit chat session to end with just a memory of my daughter's birth and thinking it a gift from God coming so close to her birthday. But then something unusual and unexpected happened right there at the table as I began to get antsy about being late with lunch for my father. I'm very thankful I didn't short circuit the plan because this time will be etched in my memory just like those beautiful days in November 1976.

With her next words, it was as if she lightly took my pulse again some 36 years later.

I'm sure she couldn't know what was happening. She has a good memory but she's not a mind reader. God, however, had a plan to use the woman with the dilapidated car and mismatched clothing to slow me down at the fast food restaurant to hear the words I needed that day.

“People have run over me all my life. They've talked about me. I never did hold it against them.” she said with confidence. “It was a raw deal what this person did to me and my family.” she reported about a deeply painful incident. “I'll always remember the day I went to visit him in his hospital room. He only said one word, “sorry,” but he knew he'd done wrong.” she assured me.

“I let it go. You HAVE to let it go.” She said these words with such an assurance of the way they'd helped her move on.

I told her the words were a gift to me. I needed to hear them. Seemingly unaffected, she continued on to another story, while my mind tried to wrap itself around what had just happened. I believe Ms. Liza was as oblivious to my heart condition as I was to hers as a young mother in 1976, but God had used her to speak a great truth to my heart.

This serendipitous moment I experienced came at a time when I was struggling in my heart to forgive someone. How completely unobtrusive the way in which God was able to speak to my heart to let it go! As I drove out of the parking lot, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of thanksgiving. He is still giving me good gifts. November 19, 1976, God bestowed on me the beautiful gift of becoming a mother for the first time. On November 12, 2012, the nurse, who had cared for me, suddenly reentered my life to remind me of God's greatest gifts of love and forgiveness.

She certainly didn't have the appearance of living the high life with riches and wealth. Her stories included those of doctors and lawyers she'd seen make their entry into the world and those she'd rubbed shoulders with in life. She'd lost some worldly possessions at the hands of another and yet she was rich in forgiveness and love for others less fortunate. Nearly a century of living this life, I found her stories of serving others inspiring and her story of forgiveness convicting.

In 1976, I was pregnant with a beautiful baby girl and though I experienced pain in the birth, the gift I received has brought unimaginable blessing to my life. As sure as I knew the birth pangs meant the birth of my child was coming, I knew Ms. Liza's words “let it go” were coming from the heart of God to me on November 12, 2012. My gentle and loving Father brought these words to me so I could experience healing and the grace to release and forgive. And what better gift could I give my daughter for her birthday than a heart that is free and clear of any bitterness or unforgiveness?

So thank you, Ms. Liza, for being who you are and may you touch more hearts for Him before the Great Physician calls you home. You didn't just take my pulse yesterday, you brought healing to my heart.

“Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.” James 1:17