Walking Toward the Cross

I know that it’s only February, but yesterday while driving I saw a whole hillside of daffodils in full bloom along the highway. Last week on my walk, a flock of robins were chirping and hopping all over a neighbor’s yard, and today the thermometer is sitting on 60 degrees with the weather forecasters predicting temps on or near 70 tomorrow. Normally, February seems long, dark, and cold to me, but this year, spring seems to be showing itself a little early, and I love it. I’m thinking early spring is a great way to celebrate leap year! But, is it a tease?

Some of Washington, D.C.’s biggest snow falls have occurred late in the winter in February. I for one will never forget waking up to the President’s Day snowfall years ago, not even able to find the car under the mounds of glistening white. The snow was so deep it muffled all the sound; it was so quiet, so pristine and so powerful in its abundance that it was truly breathtaking. However, now that the warmer winds have tickled my cheek and sunny skies have nudged some blossoms open and enticed some feathered friends to return, I am hoping the milder temperatures and snow-free days will continue. But I know that life isn’t predictable.

Today is Ash Wednesday—a special day on the church calendar. It’s the first day of Lent, the season that walks Christians through Christ’s final days. Every year as I walk toward the cross again, I delight in the joyous procession into Jerusalem and then find myself quickly sobered by the betrayal and crucifixion. A lot like February—one day Hosannas and cheering crowds (or daffodils, robins, and warm breezes), the next day the exchange of silver for a life, and the long, painful walk to the Savior’s calling, (like the chilling, late winter snow)—it is unpredictable and powerful.

The truth is, however, whether the warmer weather has come to stay, or the snow is still waiting to surprise us this year, spring will eventually come. Winter will be banished for another year, and the Washington, D.C. area will be an amazing canvas of cherry blossoms, dogwoods, redbuds, and beautiful flowers of every hue. Spring will be resurrected! And that is the beautiful thing about Lent, at the end of the painful road, the story ends with the most famous resurrection of all. I love Lent’s story, it is the one that rewrote my life almost 36 years ago. It is the one that continues to carry me through winter’s darkest days. Lent’s story . . . the hope of resurrection . . . the promise of spring!

But the Greatest of These is LOVE!

“The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread.” ~Mother Teresa

Each year when Valentine’s Day rolls around I spend some time thanking God for all the blessings I have been given. First and foremost I’m thankful for my salvation, and then my family and friends, and for all the ways I have been surrounded with love. Love, life without it is so hard to imagine, both receiving and giving it. I’m glad that there is a day set aside just to celebrate it!

As much as I enjoy waking up to roses and sweet words from my husband, I am also aware that there are those who won’t have anything special to remind them they are loved on Valentine’s Day. Some people are spending Valentine’s Day far from family, some have lost loved ones, some have yet to find their special someone’s, and some find themselves feeling lonely and unloved not just Valentine’s Day but every day. Because Valentine’s Day is all about gifting love, I want to be sure to think about how I can bless someone who might otherwise feel less than celebratory today. Thankfully it doesn’t take much to brighten someone’s otherwise dismal day, some flowers, a card (or a handwritten note), a phone call, an offer to run an errand, an invitation for dinner, or a million other love gestures.

Of course there are those people who are just downright hard to love! It’s then that I am reminded of those words in the Bible, found in Matthew 5, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have?” Interestingly, when I have heeded these words and approached some unapproachable person in love I have often been blessed with a new friend. And there’s one of the most beautiful things I have discovered about love and loving, the more you give, the more you get! That never fails to amaze and delight me. Valentine’s Day is the perfect day to give this a try.

Hoping wherever you are, whatever your circumstance, however we are connected, you can feel me sending love your way, and you’ll allow me to leave you with, perhaps the most famous love passage of all times, from 1 Corinthians 13, “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” Happy Valentine’s Day!

Mountains and Valleys

Lately two of our little ones have dealt with illnesses. Our little Nora Anne had a nasty stomach bug a week ago and our little Aubree ran a 102.7 degree fever on her first birthday, which we celebrated yesterday. I hate it when my children and grandchildren—or anyone I love—isn’t well. Yet it’s an inevitability of life. In this fallen world, we will all deal with sickness, injury, and loss; it’s so certain that we even include these challenging times in our wedding vows, promising to remain faithful through it all. In the past month, I’ve prayed for husbands standing by their wives who are dealing with cancer; parents attending to their four-month-old son with a broken leg (which included being airlifted out of Laos); a mother bathing a sick child while her father changed the bed, not once but four times throughout the night; tired parents sleeping on a hospital floor while their son lay fighting for his life on the other side of the door in ICU; and several people who recently lost jobs. I know there are countless others in need of prayer as well. How do these difficult times impact lives, not just the lives of those who are suffering, but also the lives of those caring for, praying for, and supporting them? Can anything good come from pain and loss?

When I think back on my own hard times, I know that pain and fear and suffering have certainly shaped and molded me over the years. I know that I’m stronger for having survived the experiences. Caring for my children when they were little taught me a lot, and has given me some wisdom to pass on to my daughters when they’ve asked for advice while caring for their little ones. Strength and wisdom alone might be worth some of the tough stuff life deals out, but amazingly, there’s even more to be gained. Having survived the storms when life’s waves whipped my boat around, has allowed me to be more peaceful and calm when new storms blow up. Having seen the sun return after stormy skies clear, has reminded me that my little ones will heal, rest will come to the weary, and somehow, needs will most often be met, even in the bleakest times. Like I’ve often said, mountain tops offer beautiful views, but up there on the highest mountains, where the view is perhaps the most spectacular, the peaks are barren, nothing grows, and it is in the valleys where the fruit hangs heavy on the vines. I love the mountaintop experiences, I need them; but I know that if I’m to grow and become the woman I’m meant to be, I have to walk through the valleys too.

I’ve been thinking about some of this lately, because I have had so many friends walking through such challenging valleys. My prayer times have been filled with more pleading than praise, and my heart has been heavier with the awareness that so many people are being buffeted by life’s storms and unexpected challenges. As often happens, God sent me some words of wisdom, this time through a magazine. Since I was a little girl at my grandmother’s house, I’ve enjoyed reading Guideposts—it always inspires me. Here are the words I found so encouraging in the February edition, a quote from a gentleman named Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest who said, “Heartbreaks, disappointments and even our own weaknesses can serve as stepping stones to the second half of life transformation. Failings are the foundation for growth. Those who have fallen, failed or ‘gone down’ are the only ones who understand ‘up.’” And I heartily agree, for in sickness, I appreciate health, in loss, I appreciate having, and the list goes on. Just having celebrated my birthday last month reminded me that I’m well into the second half of life, and I’m thankful for the stepping stones that have paved my way so far. Hoping the mountain tops and valleys will be as beautiful and fruitful from here forward.

Spawning Readers

I remember our first television, a huge wooden cabinet with doors, that when opened revealed a tiny little screen. The first show I remember watching on it was Captain Kangaroo, and I loved it. Somewhere around first or second grade our family got a more “modern” television. It had a bigger screen and sat on a television stand; though still black and white, I loved watching all my favorite shows on that one too. My father called the television “the idiot box”. He had rules about television watching, and he enforced them.

(This is my dad with me (the glasses weren't mine) )

Probably the rule I remember most was, if my father felt like television viewing was taking away too much time from reading, then the T.V. was unplugged and rolled into the closet. Reading was very important in our house. Some of the most special moments in our family were the times my father read aloud to us, usually on Sunday afternoons. We covered lots of classic tales and I look back fondly on those memories of our family. My sisters and I read constantly. We saw our parents reading. We had a good library in our home and we also frequented the public library. Eventually one of my sisters became a librarian and two of us have tried our hand at writing.

Bob and I both read aloud to our daughters each night when they were growing up. Even into the teen years we carried on the tradition of reading together after dinner. When the girls were little they loved the funny voices their dad used for the various characters in their stories, I think he was their favorite bedtime read-aloud person. As they got older, we read biographies about inspirational people, or faith-based stories that sparked good discussions about our own spirituality. Just like the generation before, we made good memories and instilled in our girls the importance of reading, and added another author to the family when our oldest daughter added writing to her love of reading.

Now that we have grandchildren, I am blessed to read aloud to them. I love the times when I have a little one—or two or three—snuggled up around me, lost in the words and the pictures. It still makes me smile when I finish a story and a little voice immediately says, “Read it again, Grammie!” I love knowing that the passion for and importance of reading is being passed on to yet another generation.

On a personal level, I continue to love a good book. I’m blessed to be part of a wonderful, multi-generational book club that has been meeting for over 20 years. Each month we enjoy discussing our latest mystery, adventure story, biography, classic work, or novel. It’s especially fun when the meeting includes foods that complement the story, or participants dressing to match an interesting character. It has been extra special to have my mother (when she was still living), and now my sisters and daughters as a part of this book-loving group. The insights from the different generations delight me and enhance and enrich my reading experiences.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon with our one-year-old granddaughter. She already loves her book basket and spends considerable time choosing different books and turning the pages. Our older grandchildren also love to read; Taylor, our ten-year-old, can usually be found curled up with her Kindle when we arrive at their house for a visit. As my parents told me, and I’ve told my children and grandchildren, if you can read, you can do anything. So, I will continue to put out special books at the holidays for the children to read, find time for reading aloud to my grandchildren, and to gift books and gift cards for book buying on birthdays and other special occasions. Although I didn’t always think so at the time, pulling the plug on the television was the right thing to do; it has, is and hopefully will continue to spawn generations of book lovers. Thanks Dad.