Hope

Today our pastor spoke on Hope. Do you have hope? Do you have peace and joy? My faith in Christ and personal relationship with him reminds me that I have hope for tomorrow and hope today. I continued reading today after church, and I was reminded that struggles and strife remind us that we have hope through Christ. Through the trials of my life, especially our five lost pregnancies, I am reminded that God is doing a good work in me. And, over the last ten years, I have been able to reach out to other moms who have suffered loss, too. This ministry is definitely one I wish I did not have, but I am thankful that I have been able to be a support to so many others.

I ask you today, where does your hope come from? Do you have hope? Do you have peace? Joy? Love? If not, I invite you to talk to me about my Christ and my relationship with Him.

"I have a hope! I have a future!
I have a destiny that is yet awaiting me.
My life's not over, a new beginning's just begun,
I have a hope, I have this hope!

God has a plan, it's not to harm me,
But it's to prosper me and to hear me when I call,
He intercedes for me, working all things for my good,
Though trials may come, I have this hope.

I will yet praise Him, my great Redeemer,
I will yet stand up and give Him glory with my life.
He takes my darkness and turns it into light,
I will yet praise Him, my Lord, my God.

There's still hope for me today 'cause the God in heaven loves me.

I have a hope, I have this hope."

-Tom Walker
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSbJtqYow3Q&noredirect=1

40 years?

How it is possible that in less than 10 days I will turn 40? To be cliche, it feels like just yesterday that I was 25. I guess time really does fly when you're having fun - or just living life!

As I teenager, I remember thinking that 40 was ancient - that no one had a life at 40. Thankfully, I realize now that thought was incorrect! Over the past 40 years I have learned patience, found a stronger faith in God, and learned to bite my tongue more often. I am certainly more assertive than aggressive, have more wisdom to offer, and have acquired a taste for red wine. My life no longer centers around me but revolves around my family and those whom I hold dearest. I realize being alone is not the same as feeling lonely; that love at first sight does exist (DAVID!); that it's okay to leave the laundry for a week; that I cannot be perfect at anything. My microwave needs to be cleaned again, my dog sheds too much (so does the fluffy cat), my mom really knows a lot about life, and life is fleeting. As 40 creeps closer and closer, I realize that my parents are getting older and won't be here forever like I thought when I was little. But, my mom still makes me chicken noodle soup when I am sick and my dad calls me at night to check on me.

As I enter the last week of my 30s, I will celebrate the people around me who love me just as I am. And I will love my age, despite my trepidation of turning the big 4-0. Cheers!!

Tired

Today I am tired. Do you ever have those days? I have not slept well for the past few nights - I have too much on my mind apparently. My girl started high school on Tuesday. And, the school year began again for me too. I am definitely excited to kick off another school year. I truly love my job, and I know that teaching high school is my calling.

But today I am just tired. I think it is time to go home and take a nap.

Dollbaby

            Dollbaby. That's what he called me. I remember Granddaddy's special way of eating grapefruit - glasses on to prevent the acidic juices from attacking his eyes. I remember his special blue recliner where he would gracefully lounge for his Sunday afternoon naps. No work was allowed on Sundays as it was - and still is - the Lord's day. I remember that blue recliner as his cradle for entertaining guests once the diagnosis came - fatal, terminal lung cancer.
            Even as his days grew harder, he didn't hesitate to be the stern but loving disciplinarian. As the oldest grandchild, I was often held responsible for younger cousins' (and brother's) actions. This time was no different. We thought we would be sneaky and throw dirt clogs at passing cars. (Why we ever thought that was a good idea, I still do not know.) And, hit a car we did. Except it wasn't a sweet little old lady driving the car. It was a cantankerous, white-bearded man with a boat of a car. We hit that car squarely on the driver's side window. Immediately the driver slammed on his brakes. And immediately the three of us made a beeline for the barn. We scrambled to the loft and peered through the old barn's slats to spy on the happenings.
            As the man climbed out of his car, we trembled with fear. Granddaddy met him at the back door. Though we couldn't hear the words, we could certainly read the body language. After what seemed like hours, but was probably mere minutes, the man left, and we crept out of the barn.
            With my head hung low and my tail tucked between my legs, I cautiously walked up onto the back stoop. Granddaddy was waiting for me. Though I can't recall his words of correction, I do remember the shame I felt from his admonition. I vowed to never displease him again. (I also remember the threat of a switching if I pulled a stunt like that again.)
            It wasn't long after that moment that the cancer got the best of him. As he was waiting for the ambulance to come take him to the hospital, he called me into the parlor. As he sat on that narrow, rented, borrowed hospital bed, he witnessed to me. He shared how Christ was the center of his life. That he wasn't afraid to die because he knew without a doubt that he would live eternally in Heaven with Jesus.
            When the ambulance attendants came to carry him away, I slipped away out the front door. I couldn't stand the thought of seeing him strapped to the stretcher. This man, who called me dollbaby, living in a broken body.
            As the ambulance circled around the driveway, I knew deep within my eight-year-old heart that the moments I had just spent with him would be the last I would spend with him alive. And I said a silent good-bye again, one last time.

 

High school...down in the parking and up the ramp

Since tonight was part one of my 20-year high school reunion (ahh!), it is only fitting that I write about a high school memory. There were many fun times at Hermitage, but I think my best memories involve music. Tonight, during the tour of the school, I had to visit the music rooms and take that walk up the ramp to the commons.

Of course, the memory that flashed before me was an embarrassing one. Ha! Walking into school one day before Christmas break, I fell in the parking lot coming into the school. The orchestra students were performing with the band students for the Christmas concert so I had to bring my violin to school. There was some icy slush in the parking lot, and guess who slipped on it? Yep, me! I was walking into the building with a friend, who, when I fell, nearly peed his pants laughing at me. My skirt was drenched and my pride was wounded, but I was doubled over with laughter, too. :)

A month of memories

     When I was a kid, my family traveled back and forth from Manassas to Richmond at least once a month. Allen and I often played games during the trip to pass the time in the car. Our favorite games included competing to see who could find the most out-of-state tags and the alphabet game. Mom used to trick us into playing Quiet as a Mouse - seeing who could remain silent the longest. Years later, with a sly smile, she acknowledges I would hardly stop talking so she had to come up with some type of plan for a few moments of peace. I am sure my incessant talking drove both of my parents crazy! But, I love thinking back to those fun road trips. We would often travel the "hilly road" home. My stomach would fill with butterflies as we swooped around a turn and soared over a hill in the next moment. Talk about a homemade rollercoaster! As the fall season approaches and we begin to count our blessings during this month of thankfulness, I am thankful for my memories and how they have molded my life. Each day this month I plan to focus on a memory to share. Hope you enjoy my walk down memory lane. Happy reading!

Nana's favorite chair

The blue plush armchair, my Nana's favorite chair, sat in prominent location in the tiny room. Nana would sit for hours in this chair in the latter years of her life. As she sat in this chair, it was as if she transformed into a queen. She would occasionally bark order at me to get her something to drink or to find her a book on the shelf.

One of my last memories of her sitting in the chair happened when I provided a impromptu mini fashion show for her. Our church was celebrating our 175th anniversary and members were encouraged to dress up in clothes from era's past. Having played in her closet as a child, I remembered fingering the fabric of long dresses and polyester pants and shirts as I imagined myself in a faraway land. Rummaging through her closet upstairs, I rediscovered her treasure trove of goodies. Muumuus and faded sundresses lined the second rack of the closet. Each fit me perfectly.

As I modeled the clothes, she laughed while telling memories of moments long past that the clothes triggered. As she sat like a queen on her throne, she marveled at how life had passed so quickly for her.

After that day, Nana seemed to deteriorate quickly. Her legs seemed to stop carrying her as steadily, and she remained on her throne more frequently. But, like a true queen, even in her last days of life, every hair was in place, a tissue was readily accessible, and a tube of lipstick was within arm's reach.