Nothing New Under the Sun?

My grandfather used to say, "There is nothing new under the sun". Actually, I think that is an original quote from Ecclesiates. My mother used it often to refer to fashions. As "new" fashions hit the racks at her favorite stores, she would utter that phrase. She meant that what she saw there was just a modern take on fashions she or her mother wore in years past. I guess designers can only do so much with the covering they design for our bodies. My mother died young so imagine how an older person feels when fashions do their cycles.



I must confess that I have an innate desire for new. Now I don't mean that I have to have new things. It's not like that. I live in an old house, drive cars that are years old and enjoy the efficiency of a dish washer that must be 25 years old. We dragged it with us when we moved to this house and had purchased it used from a man that lived near church and died many years ago. My desire for new is a desire for the fresh and creative. I LOVE seeing new takes on things. I got my Martha Stewart Living holiday version yesterday. I love Martha Stewart even though she doesn't have a prestine reputation. Yes, I know she spent time in the fancy hotel none of us wish to enter but I feel like she was made a scape goat. I don't condone illegal acts, but throwing into jail someone like Martha who has done nothing for our nation but encourage women to make beautiful homes on a shoestring and be good hostesses is crime in itself in my mind. We need more Marthas. She has an interesting name, doesn't she? I had my nose out of joint when all that was going on. She has served her time now for inside trading (while drug pushers and murderers roam our streets). She is back in the saddle and showing the world her true colors. I think Martha is one of those people God uses who may not even know Him. I can't think of a more honorable goal for a woman than to make a comfortable place for her family to live and a warm place for entertaining guests. I know there are many other goals that are important but to me, this is a rather basic goal. It doesn't take a lot of time or energy, just some creative thought. Okay, I really got away from my goal in this blog for today.


At any rate, last evening, I sat in my green recliner while it vibrated away and looked through the latest Martha magazine. I look for things to do in my home that will make it fresh and beautiful this holiday season. I don't have tons of money to pour into any project but I enjoy finding one little new thing in her magazine each month. To my disappointment, I didn't find anything I felt I could implement this time. Seeing that it is the holiday issue makes it all the more disappointing. Perhaps the Lord is saying, "Gayle, you are going to be gone right after Christmas, make it simpler this year."

Martha was the person that got me started on collecting church plates. Her magazine featured them many years ago and I was bitten by the bug. I have enjoyed the collecting and found I could do that one or two dollars at a time. I don't buy any that have a big price tag. It's a matter of where one buys them that determines the price one pays. I now have over fifty of them. I so enjoyed churches. They speak core value to me. I love the similarities and the differences of the churches and the plates. I enjoy the histories of each on the back of the plates. Some of my friends have aided me in my collection. Cindy just gave me the first 22 karat gold plate that I've seen. I'd like to thank my friends who are always on the lookout. As one friend said last Sunday at church, " I like the hunt". I think I like the hunt, too.

My whole goal in today's writings was to explore the desire in me and others for change. I know so many people that don't like change, but some forms of change is something that I welcome in my life. It brings vitality and interest into the daily routine. It makes me keep up with the times (even though there is nothing new under the sun). Perhaps that explains much about the family we are part and the church we are part. One component in change that needs to be there in order for me to be inticed is integrity. Don't give me any phoney stuff, but help me get rid of the phoney stuff I've been hanging on to. That is why I don't keep any dishes that have been broken or cracked. A fixed dish is a phoney. I also don't want hostess sets that have been put together with a plate found here and a cup from a different set found there. No way. I want the authentic. The original plate with the original cup is my cup of tea. No pun intended. Some people call me a snob. That's okay. I don't mind sticking to my standards in spite of the judgment.

One of the reasons I love God's word is that it is fresh and new every time I read it. I forgot to tell you. There is one thing that is always new. God's mercy is NEW every morning. Somehow I think God understands my desire for new and fresh. He likes it too. So, now that I have rambled on and on about nothing, I will enjoy His new mercy for today.

One of the Joyces in My Life

Joyce and I met about thirty years ago. I was a trip coordinator for Holt Internation from Chicago to Seoul, Korea for about eighteen parents who were traveling there to receive their adoptive baby. I met most of my group in Chicago. Joyce was a very timid, frightened, insecure young women at that point. (That changed dramatically in her life) She had traveled no where and hadn't been on a plane before. She and her husband had a daughter at home and were adding a baby daughter by adoption to their little family. That trip and one prior had cemented relationships with many people with adoption in their experience. We had twelve babies to pick up. Most of them were from six months to a year old. The experience in Korea and with the adoption agency was most dramatic and it would take a year to write about that. But there was Joyce. Joyce got a little seven month old daughter she named Sarah. On our flight home, I was sitting toward the front of the plane attempting to recover from two weeks of intense activity and emotional stress. I heard a wailing from the back of the plane. The wail continued and continued. I will confess that my first thought was, I'm up here, she is back there, she can deal with it. When the wail continued to the point that our group's reputation was at stake, I got up and walked the aisle back to the rear of the plane. There I found an unhappy baby and an exhausted mommy. It had been twelve years since she mothered a baby and the emotional toll of the whole traveling and adopting experience was wearing her thin. I took that beautiful almond eyed Asian baby into my arms and walked the aisle with her. (Couldn't be done that way today) Who knows what was upsetting that child. Could have been separation anxiety after being taken from her foster mother, it could have been the altitude, it could have been looking into unfamiliar yet loving American eyes. The kid was upset. Having walked her while humming a Korean folk tune in her ear, she calmed down.

Joyce's and my mutual experience joined us as friends to this day. Yesterday about eight o'clock, the phone rang and on the other end was the voice of my friend, Joyce. She lives on the other side of the state and was traveling to the central part of the state to see her mother who is now in a retirement care facility. When Joyce's mother lived in her humble little home on State Road 37 in Fairmount, I would visit her with Joyce and we had sleep overs there. One thinks of children and teens having sleep overs but ours was a sleep over with all mature women. We had such good times and shared many laughs. I love her mom. It has been on my mind to visit her for some time, BUT, she lives two and a half hours from my home.

When I heard that Joyce was going to her moms, I jumped at the opportunity to meet her there and share a few hours with her and a lonely, elderly woman whose body won't do what she wants it to do any more. I told Joyce I'd talk to her in person and quickly hung up the phone and prepared myself for travel. When I arrived it was lunch time and Joyce and her brother and his wife were going to a local restaurant for lunch. I joined them and we had a wonderful time of laughter and warmth. After lunch, we went to visit Maxine. Maxine was so excited I had come. We chatted like old times and she was content. Later, Joyce and I took her for a fitting for new hearing aids. When we returned, the residents were headed to the dining area for their supper. Maxine didn't want us to leave in the worst way. She tried all the angles. She wanted me to sleep for the night on her sofa. She thought she should take us for a bit of food or at least an ice cream cone. Because Maxine isn't able to move quickly, it takes a great effort to get her somewhere and back. Having just returned from the doctor, Joyce wasn't eager to make the effort. Besides, there were heavy wind warnings and it wasn't pleasant outdoors. We decided like it or not, we must leave her. Her friends rallied to the need and surrounded her with hugs and grabbed her hand to invite her to join them for their meal.

As we walked away under our own steam, I thanked God for my mobility and health in spite of a few issues. I looked at all those dear elderly people and said to Joyce, "We have no idea what is ahead of us." She agreed.

Joyce and I went to her brother's home to meet he and his wife. We then went to a famous little restaurant in Upland called Ivanhoes. I have been there several times in the past and didn't realize that was where they were taking me. I was delighted to see the little restaurant that holds good memories. I had a fruit plate that was wonderful. After dinner, it was time for Joyce and me to part. She was to drive two and a half hours one way and me, two and a half hours the other way. During our ride home we spent much time on our cell phones sharing some things we didn't have time to share throughout our busy day.

I cherish the friendship our trip to Korea brought to us. Since that time, we have helped each other through very difficult times in both of our lives. I recall one very dramatically difficult time for me that went on for months. That was before e-mail and I would receive cards from her with encouraging Scripture verses a couple of times a week. Actually, during that time, she was one of the few people I had that was encouraging. I was isolated from my usual support group by difficult circumstances. By sending me those scriptures, she held out hope for me. It meant everything. I know that I have helped her over some bumps that she didn't think she could ride over also.

Treat your friendships as if they are treasures, because they are. Make time for each other even if miles seperate you and you decide at eight oclock in the morning that you are going to make the trip and leave a half hour later. What an impulsive woman I am. I hear many of you Amening that one.

My Jesus, I Love Thee

Last night in church we sang a song entitled, “Trust and Obey”. The pianist told the congregation that she chose that song because it was her grandmother’s favorite song. Her grandmother lost her husband one year after their family immigrated to Canada. She was left with six small children whom she reared alone. Grandmother or Oma, as Thiersa calls her, testifies that because she trusted and obeyed God for all things needed in her role as mother and breadwinner, God was faithful. Perhaps it is the other way around. Perhaps because God is faithful, Oma trusted and obeyed. One could make a case for both.

The next song we sang was, “My Jesus, I Love Thee”. If I had had a microphone, I would have had a story to share about that song. My mother was very sick with cancer. It started as breast cancer and spread to her abdomen. From beginning to end, it was a seven-year fight. One of the treatments used was male hormone treatment. Once Mom began those shots, she lost her singing voice. She simply could not sing and she missed that. The last year of Mom’s life, she was hospitalized for three months. It became apparent that we were losing the fight. I spent most of each day caring for her during her last months of life. My family was young. Our oldest daughter was eleven at that point and much of my work at home fell to her. She was good at it, but now I grieve for her when I think of all I burdened her with. I remember coming home around dinnertime and seeing that she had begun something for our family meal. Her grandma was precious to her and she did much thinking about Grandma’s illness while she cooked and cleaned. She recalls one day that she stood in the dining room and raised her voice at God and questioned why he would be taking her grandma from her. It was a terribly painful process for all of us.

One day when I walked in the backdoor of my parent’s home, I found Mom sitting in her usual spot in her green chair. It was the same green chair from which she had enticed a frightened Korean son we had just received through adoption into trying his first American food. This time she wasn’t doing much eating herself. She said to me with a smile, “Listen, I can sing!” With that, she began to sing, “My Jesus, I Love Thee”. While I should have been thrilled along with her that she was able to sing again, I couldn’t bare to hear the words. I wasn’t much into listening to the following:

My Jesus, I love thee, I know thou art mine;
For thee all the follies of sin I resign.
My gracious redeemer, my Savior art thou;
If ever I loved thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.
I love thee because thou has first loved me,
And purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree.
I love thee for wearing the thorns on thy brow;
If ever I loved thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.
In mansions of glory and endless delight,
I'll ever adore thee in heaven so bright;
I'll sing with the glittering crown on my brow;
If ever I loved thee, my Jesus, 'tis now

The words we sang tonight touched me again. I wasn’t terribly emotional over them as sometimes happens but the depth of the words considering her condition moved me. Jesus did feel her deepest woe and bore her sorrows, too. I wish I could say that at the time, I experienced the same grace as she did. I was still fighting. Fighting hard to keep my mom around for our family’s sake. My youngest brother wasn’t a child any longer but he had just married and it wasn’t time for him to be motherless yet, at least in my estimation. He would have children who would never know their grandmother. As it turned out, she had six more grandchildren after she died.. I’m not exactly sure how long after this moment Mom went to be with the Lord, but I do recall getting very tired of the fight of trying to keep her alive. It seemed no matter what we tried, it didn’t help her any longer. I recall attending night church one evening where I saw both of her doctors. I walked to them and said, “You guys have to do something; we can’t go on like this any longer”. The next morning when I arrived to care for her, my dad said she was hemorrhaging and that his call to the doctor meant that we had to have her transported to the hospital one more time. Mom didn’t want to go into an ambulance again. She complained about the rough ride and how uncomfortable an ambulance ride was for her. She finally agreed that if we would put a twin size mattress in the back of their van, she would allow us to take her. The doctor came to the house and rode with us. (Remember, this is a rural community and the doctor was a member of their church) Mom died in route. Jesus loved her enough to rescue her from the debilitating disease that she fought for so long.

The song always brings back the hurt just a little bit. The words are more meaningful and comforting with the passing of time. Yes, I can sing it with conviction now, too.

Colored Horizon

It's Sunday morning. Ken has returned from bringing our grandson to Sunday School or as it is now called, "Faith Walkers". When I rose this morning, the thought popped into my head that I had forgotten to bring retreat tickets to a key lady so I immediately got ready for the day and drove the five miles to her house. On my return I was struck again by the beauty of the trees. I don't know if in past years I was so busy with my work schedule that I failed to see it but this year has been particularly beautiful and the color has lasted for a very long time. Last week I posted some pictures of the trees down the road on which we live. Today, those trees are standing truck and branches with no leaves. BUT! Behind them, the slower to turn trees have stolen the show. There is every shade of color imaginable between green, yellow, orange and red hanging on those trees. In the middle of the fall colors stand the pines, tall and proud with branches of their forever green. The maples drip of golden yellow and the oaks; the oaks must be many different varieties in the woods around our area because the color is vastly different from oak to oak. Across the street from our house is an electric line. The trees on the other side of the line have been trimmed so that all their branches are the same length. As I drove up to our driveway, I smiled to see a section of yellow, then one of burnt red, then orange and then yellow again. Each section being a different tree yet grown together tightly.

As I drove past a blueberry farmer's place this morning, I noticed the straight rows of berry bushes, all in a hue of burnt or dark red. The mass of color was impressive. The harvest of blueberries is over for another year. The majority of corn and soy beans are out of the fields safely harvested. It's all indication that the warm weather is over and the cold is to come. I can almost see a carton of myself with a lasso around November 4, 2007 hanging on for dear life because I don't want the serene beauty and warm sun we have enjoyed for weeks now to leave us. But, hang on as I would, the cold will come. God has told us that as long as the earth endures there will be summer and winter, seedtime and harvest. The earth is ready to take a rest. Before we know it, the calendar will have again flipped to spring. Okay, Lord, bring the winter on, so that springtime will again come. We thank you that you are a dependable God and that you have ordered Your world in such a predictible way. And by the way, thank you from the bottom of our hearts that when the winters of our lives come, you restore us to springtime and show us your mercy again.

The Church Goes Forward

We have just returned from a retreat weekend for leaders in our church. I wasn't so excited about going. I guess I thought it would be the same old thing. I'm not even sure what the same old thing would be but I didn't have a very good attitude about spending a Friday evening and Saturday morning with thirty people from our church making plans for our future.

BUT! I was wrong, totally wrong. Our meetings were full of anticpation to see what God is going to do next at CCRC. First we met in a large group and were taught the difference of character in a small, medium, or large church. It was quite interesting and I could easily pinpoint some of the changes our church's growth has brought to the table. There were painful experiences and feelings I have had over some of the changes that I can now see as things that were uncomfortable but necessary. Later we broke into small groups and dialoged about what steps the Lord wanted us to take in this growth experience. It was so good to realize that everyone was on the same page. Most people saw the different issues the same way or similarly. That was encouraging. I am sure the Spirit of the Living God is alive and well at Community. Does that make us a perfect church? Far from it. We have our work cut out for us. In regard to ourselves, oh my, what steps we could take to walk closer to the Lord and recognize His power in our lives. In regard to those new who walk through our doors; judge not lest we be judged and love as Jesus did and does. I'm glad I was invited to attend. It gave new vision to my spiritual eyes and new loyalty to the church of which we have been members for twenty five years. God is good.

In our fellowship hall today a bridal shower was held for our pastor's daughter. I felt honored to be invited. Many of those there had children Nichole's age and so naturally were honored guests. I'm not sure what I have done to make me an invited guest but I do love Nichole and wish her the very best in life with her soon to be husband. Nichole is a beautiful girl with a smile the advertising industry would give its right arm for. When she smiles, which is most often, the world lights up around her.

My friends, Bernice and Joyce brought me home after the shower. Noone was home here and it seemed a good time to invite them for a cup of tea. We were fed well at the shower so no food was necessary and so we enjoyed tea for three. Our conversation flitted from one subject to another and we found ourselves saying, "No back to ......" I shared with them the joy of the leadership training meetings. We discuss many of the issues and they were thrilled to hear there was such unity of thought and purpose among the leaders. Our subjects then turned to things like the presidential campaign and our confusion over the right person for the job. Then we discussed the war in Irag and the confusing stories one hears about how that is going. Our thoughts turned to the needs in our families and the families of the ladies in our Bible study. After we had said several times, "we need to pray about that", we took the bull by the horns and bowed our knees to Jesus. He said to cast all our anxiety and burdens upon Him. That we did, making it very clear we need His wisdom and guidance. One thing that has become an important prayer in my spirit is asking God to bring truth in every circumstance to the surface. So we prayed that prayer over all these matters. It was a sweet time of communion with the God of the universe as the three of us invited His presence right at my kitchen table. God tells us where two or three gather in His name, He is in the midst of them. He truly was. I feel so light and carefree as I gave Him all those things that are beyond the scope of my ability to change. I trust Him to change minds of even the presidents and kings of this world. What an awesome God we serve.

Tomorrow, we will gather with the people of our church and worship God. We will lift prayers of praise to Him. We will learn from Him and we will cast again many things onto Him. When we cast anything on another person we feel we have betrayed him or her and given that person our responsibility. Just think about it. God tells us He is big enough to hold the burdens of the world. He doesn't want us to hold back from casting our burden on Him like we would hesitate to cast our responsibility or burden on our friend. He is actually honored because our doing that is obedience to Him. Responding in faith to God's directives will be accredited to us for righteousness. Yes, I learned that fresh again recently from Beth Moore's teachings.

Sleep well tonight......God does give His beloved sleep. He promised.

Friends in All Places

Husbands of two of my friends have gone to Mississippi to work toward rebuilding roofs damaged from Hurricane Katrina. They will be gone for ten days. A long time for two wives to sit alone at night. Last evening when I realized I had way more chicken in the oven than what we would eat, I called each of them and invited them for dinner. Ken was outnumbered 3-1 at the dinner table. He didn't seem to mind a bit. These people are life long friends and I am confident he feels as comfortable with the women as he does with the men. We enjoyed a nice visit and then off they went to their homes to sleep in an empty bed. I can only imagine what a widow feels when she first has to climb into a bed alone. That reminds me of our friends in Flint Michigan. Leroy is a Baptist minister in his eighties. Wilma, his wife of over fifty years has recently had a second stroke. She has been in the hospital for several days and Leroy doesn't leave her side. The hospital staff brings in a cot and he sleeps next to her side. Leroy called yesterday to tell us that Wilma's stroke had done some severe damage and the doctors have recommended they put her in a nursing home. I could hear the pain in his voice and words. A more loving man one would not find and he has been caring for her for months now. He told the story that when the doctor gave him the recommendation, he began to break down. The doctor told him not to get emotional. Leroy said, "I told him that she has been my wife for fifty seven years and you tell me not to get emotional?" My heart bled for both of them. Wilma can't speak well now and so is very frustrated at not being able to express herself and her desires. She did manage to tell Leroy she wanted to go home and have Hospice come. I'm sure her desire is to just kiss him goodbye and go to Jesus. If only it would be that soon and she wouldn't have to spend time in a nursing home.

We went to see Leroy and Wilma in August. I felt such an urgency to get there while Wilma was still well enough to enjoy our visit. She was using a walker most of the time then but she was adament that we not take the sheets off our bed and wash them for her, she said she could do that herself. I left feeling badly about that. For me, it would only take a small effort, for her, the effort was huge. I'm so grateful we were blessed to enjoy her those few days. She still had a quick wit and her pleasant humor. Leroy reminded me yesterday that they have known us since l964 when they moved next door to where we lived. We had one child then, in fact our second child was born the December after the September when they moved in. I recall bringing John to their house next door to show him off. He was in a little white sweater set from head to toe. I can still see Leroy lift that little boy up and look him over. Our children have always been important to them. They have followed all our births and adoptions. They didn't have any children together; Leroy had two children by a former marriage. The mother of those children soured them against their father and to this day his children and grandchildren have little contact with him. That has been a source of remorse and guilt for Leroy his entire life.

If you think of Leroy and Wilma today, please send a prayer to the Lord for their comfort and grace during their time of suffering.

Halloween Pranks

This is the morning that follows Halloween night. I recollect many of those with vivid memories of destruction when I was a child. Riding through town while sitting on the school bus or going to church with my parents, the scene in downtown De Motte looked like a war zone. The whole business section at that time was all of one block long. The store windows were clouded with the bar rubbing of someone's soap. That wasn't the worst, though. Swart's corner, a small parking lot next to one of the two local grocery stores was strewn with debris. In my mind's eye, I see the several outhouses that had been stolen from someone's back yard and dragged to town behind a youth's car. The day after, the local residents needed to make claim to the one they owned and take it home on the back of a pickup truck. The name of the movie, Smashing Pumpkins, was a real memory jogger for me. The street in town and the sidewalks and Swart's corner were filled with smashed pumpkins. Watermelon fields left with excess harvest were raided and those brought to town to drop on the ground and splatter. There were various other items from year to year but those were the most common. One particular year, an airplane from the little rural airport called Cheever's airport had been brought to town. I can imagine how much glee and satisfaction those boys got from that achievement. My father tells of one Halloween night when he was a teen when one of his friends took his Model A Ford and drove the thing up the steps of the school. The pictures of those steps defy any chance of that car not being damaged. All of this mischief could go on because there were no police in our town. We were totally unicorporated and the only law enforcement was twenty miles away in Rensselaer. Obviously, things have changed. I dare say my ride into town this morning will not be at all scenic in the same way as it was years ago. Downtown De Motte, which has now grown to at least a mile of businesses will be neat and tidy and ready for business as usual. I wonder how much parental attitude had to do with all that historic mess. I rather remember grown men getting pleasure by what the youth had gotten away with. Perhaps it was memories of their own mischief that they were recalling. At any rate, we see things differently today. Taking other's property is now consider stealing (rather than borrowing) and will be prosecuted. Making a mess in another's property and especially civil property is not considered a joke any longer.

Has all the mischief been taken out of Halloween here in De Motte or anywhere else? Hardly. I think the devil has gotten sneaky. The mischief and disorder has submerged. Now the movie theaters where horror shows are shown on the big screen provide that fulfillment of devilment kids seem to gravitate to. There are also many towns and even some churches that provide haunted houses for kids to tour. What people don't know or don't really believe is that when they subject their minds to that kind of thing, they invite Satan and all his hosts to join their lives. There are only two kinds of activities in this world. Those that are of the light and those that are of the darkness. I dare say that last night many parents allowed their children to particpate in the darkness.

I wasn't allowed to trick or treat as a child. My parents were cognizant of the dangers in all of the Halloween activites. When we got older, we could put a little make up on and go to the neighbors but it never got beyond that. I guess they thought that was innocent enough. I suppose one could say they just let us dabble. The year l954, my mother planned a little harvest party for us. The was a Saturday, the day before Halloween. She had the basement decorated and the hot chocolate and donuts were all ready on Friday night. The party goers were our neightborhood friends, one of whom is still my close friend today and my two siblings. What my mother didn't know prior to Saturday morning was that she would go into labor during the night on Friday. She was pregnant with her last child. The party went on without a hitch with the help of my very able and always willing Grandmother whom lived in the next house down the street. While we children were bobbing for apples, my father came home and went to sit at his desk as if nothing at all had transpired. Well? You have a baby brother. Excitement!!!! What is his name? Jeryld. Jeryld what? Oh, I don't know....let me think. He concluded that Jeryld's middle name was Alan. There has never been a better party in my life than that one. I was twelve when my youngest brother was born and he is still my baby. A better baby brother one will never find. We learned years later that my mother had given my brother the second name of Lee but when Dad told her he had told the other kids that his name was Jeryld Alan, my mother said, "The kids will have that name all over the county by now so I guess we will stick with it."

I don't see anything wrong in my grandchildren's trick or treat activities. That is, unless they dress in outfits that would express evil. I would not want them to give Satan any honor. Today, I will pray that Jesus will rout out any demonic activity from any of my family members who may have subjected themselves to stuff on his side of the aisle. The Word says, that we are children of the light and that as a result we are to walk in the LIGHT. Happy Reformation Day one day late.