by jphilo | Oct 9, 2009 | Daily Life
The lone cosmos in my flower garden ran out of oomph this year. It came up by seed, and I moved it behind the shorter plants on the west side of the garage, near where it’s parent had lived a full life the previous year. But this love child took it’s own sweet time to reach maturity, kind of like it thought the warm weather would last forever. The pokey plant put off setting buds until a few days ago. Finally, this morning, the first flower bloomed, shivering with cold.
Alas, the blossom is a one day wonder. With a hard frost predicted for tonight and snow for tomorrow, it doesn’t have much time. Thankfully, the sun came out this morning, so it’s short life will be pleasant. But the puny flower is a mockery perched atop the huge plant that created it. And the wasted potential of the buds doomed to die without blooming dampened my spirits. Because some days, I know, I am like the errant cosmos.
How much potential have I wasted, thinking I had plenty of time, thinking things would never change? How many opportunities have I put off, assuming they would still be there tomorrow? How much beauty has been lost? How many relationships squandered?
The cosmos didn’t grace my fall garden with it’s cheerful pink promise. Instead it reminded me of the swift passage of time, the brevity of life, the fleeting days given me to complete God’s work God. That’s not the life I intended for the seedling I transplanted last July. But I accept its unintended grace with gratitude.
The grace of urgency.
The grace of purpose.
The grace of mortality.
by jphilo | Oct 7, 2009 | Daily Life
My heart was heavy Sunday morning. Our dear friend Lyle died Saturday afternoon, leaving behind a wife and two high school-aged sons. My heart grieved for them, even though Lyle’s Christian faith had been his confidence, hope, and joy since his lung cancer was diagnosed a year ago.
When my mind wasn’t on Lyle and his family, I thought about another dear friend. Her birthday was Saturday, the day her daughter was supposed to get married. But the previous weekend, her daughter called and said there were problems. My friend and her husband rushed to the city where she lived to counsel the young couple. In the end, they called everything off. My friend spent her birthday helping her daughter move into a new apartment.
Why did God allow such suffering and disappointment, especially to people like these, good people who serve Christ wholeheartedly? Why is he allowing young people such heartache so early in their lives? Angry questions whirled inside my brain as I trudged down the road. My head bowed under the weight of my doubts. My eyes stared at the muddy road, soft after three grey days of almost constant drizzle and rain, and my feet slipped.
Then a noise, I don’t know what, maybe a bird or a car driving by, lifted my head, and I saw the moon. It waited, full and bright, on the east horizon in the clear, pale morning sky, and it’s sad beauty spurred me to prayer.
Lord, let my friends see this moon, too. Show them the beauty behind their storms. Show them your face and heal their broken hearts. Be their ever-present hope in times of darkness. Amen.
Did God answer my prayer? Did the widow and her sons, the couple and their jilted daughter see the October moon? Did he show them his face? I don’t know. But one day, when God wipes away their tears and collects them in a bottle, the moon will still be there. And they will look up.
by jphilo | Oct 2, 2009 | Daily Life
The season changed from summer to fall so quickly. One day the temperature was so warm, I wore a sleeveless shirt, capris and no shoes. The next day, it was so chilly we dressed in long pants and hoodies, then hurried to turn up the thermostat.
When did it happen?
My children changed from kids to adults. One day they needed me to wipe their noses, mend their broken hearts, listen to their dreams and pack lunches to take on hiking adventures with their dad. Now they both have sweethearts, grand dreams, and adventures of their own.
When did it happen?
My mother changed from an independent woman to a dependent one. One day she quilted for hours at a time, read thick books, traveled, and mowed her lawn with great delight. Now quilt patterns confuse her, she reads thin books, sits in her chair, and won’t touch the lawn mower.
When did it happen?
My life changed from teacher to author. For years, I woke every day and dreamed of writing a book, taught kids to read and enjoy books all day, and came home to tired to put my own ideas on paper. Now I wake and write all day, have had a book published, and go to sleep at night with a smile.
When did it happen?
by jphilo | Sep 28, 2009 | Daily Life
For the past month I’ve been in denial about the end of summer and the arrival of fall. But today I can deny it no longer. Over the weekend, the leaves went from green to gold. Overnight the air went from warm to chilly, the breeze from soft to harsh.
In years past, my lips nearly tripped over themselves as a litany of weather complaints tumbled from my lips. But on this fall day, they won’t. How can I complain about the weather in light of what God has done?
Last fall at this time, we were moving my mother from her home to my brother’s, worried about her health, watching her retirement savings take a hit, wondering if her house would sell in a recession economy. This fall, her health and happiness are greatly improved, her retirement income is secure, and her house is sold.
Last fall, when Hiram and I went to Minneapolis for the annual Desiring God Conference, our son was a monk, wrestling with unnamed, untreated PTSD, thinking he was going crazy. This past weekend, we went to the conference as usual. But we skipped an afternoon session so we could celebrate our nephew’s birthday with our whole, healthy and definitely not crazy son, his fiance, and several other family members at my sister’s house.
Last fall, much of A Different Dream for My Child was still in my head, and with all the responsibilities accompanying Mom’s situation, I wondered if it would be written before the publisher’s deadline came and went. This fall, it’s published and being used by God to minister to hurting parents.
Last fall, I would have been complaining about the weather on a day like this. But God has shown me how he takes what is hard, what is painful, what seems cruel, what seems wrong, and uses it for good.
So this fall, I watch with hope when the wind blows and the cold comes. I expect great things. Instead of complaining, I whisper a prayer. Bless hurting families on as you’ve blessed us. Show them how to trust you in bad weather and in good. Amen.
by jphilo | Sep 19, 2009 | Daily Life
Who was the Saturday morning cartoon character who coined mouse hate talk? I may not remember, but I agree whole-heartedly. I hate mieces to pieces, too. The little varmints haven’t been my favorite animal for a long, long time, not since the charm of Stuart Little and The Mouse and the Motorcycle during the infamous bedroom closet mouse invasion of 1991.
But this afternoon when Hiram found a mouse nest on the the heating element in the air vent underneath the windshield wipers, my dislike turned to loathing. The discovery and removal of the nest, along with the extraction of two dead babies stuck to the cabin air filter, cleared up the mystery of Monday’s hitch hiking mouse. It wasn’t a hitch hiker at all, it and its family were squatters.
Well, I have never fancied myself as a landlord and don’t intend to start now. The car dealership had no idea of how to keep Mickey and Minnie from rebuilding Shantytown and a quick search of the internet turned up these suspicious and/or unsatisfactory solutions:
- Mothballs
- Live traps
- Mouse traps
- Dryer sheets
- Peppermint oil on cotton balls
- Hot pepper
- Cats
Supposedly, the mice don’t like the scent of the stinky things on the list, but neither do I. In fact, I’m allergic to several of them. Even though we’ve used so many traps we should have stock in the company, the mice invasion hasn’t ended. And while we don’t own a cat, plenty of ferrel ones hang around the place, and they haven’t kept the mice at bay either.
So I’m thinking Hiram’s gonna have a whole lot of fun transforming the Corolla into a cat mobile. While he’s doing that, I’ll get Anne to whip up my slinky new Cat Woman outfit. That should scare the mieces to pieces, don’t you think?
by jphilo | Sep 4, 2009 | Daily Life
I’m not the kind of girl who expects God to work miracles in my life on a regular basis. In fact, I never expected God to work miracles in my life at all. When I was a kid, He didn’t make my sick dad get better. He didn’t convince my parents to get the cardboard vanity (with a complete set a play makeup) which was the only present I wanted the Christmas I was seven.
When I was a teenager, He didn’t make me cute enough to get dates or coordinated enough to avoid teasing in gym class. In college, He didn’t make me a world famous actress. When my son was born, He didn’t instantly heal my son’s physical condition.
However, earlier this week, when I saw a glowing clump of grass during my morning walk, I wondered if it was finally miracle time for Miss Jolene. Was God was in the burning bush business again and asking me to be a modern day Moses? Thankfully I realized the flames were only the sun hitting the feathery tips of the grass before I cut a willow switch and tried part the waters of the little creek down by the bridge.
But all week, the memory of that glowing grass warmed my heart, and I’ve been in the mood for a miracle. In face, I’ve pretty much been expecting one to happen. But God didn’t stop at one miracle. He performed a whole string of them.
On Tuesday, A Different Dream for My Child was released, and my no-frills rellies sent five balloon bouquets.
By Wednesday, I’d sold two cases of books.
On Thursday, the rellies called and said they’d be coming early for our Labor Day reunion because the college-aged cousins couldn’t wait until Saturday to see one another.
Today, the publicist at Discovery House said they submitted Different Dream for both the Christianity Today and ECPA book award nominations in the Christian Living category.
Tonight, my son will arrive for his first Labor Day in seven years. It will be his first reunion as an emotionally and physically, wholly healed young man. Both my kids are bringing their sweeties to the Labor Day for the first time. Last Labor Day, my daughter thought she would be an old maid forever and my son was a monk.
So if the first four items on the list don’t meet your definition of a miracle, I’m thinking this last one just might do the trick for you. It did for me.
Last week, I wasn’t the kind of girl who expected God to work miracles in her life. This week I’m sure He works them every day.
This week, I’m definitely that kind of girl.
