Nostalgia lesson – past, present, and future

My mom on the farm

“Nostalgia is like a grammar lesson:  you find the present tense, but the past perfect.” ~ Owens Lee Pomeroy

Living in the present IS tense.  Just pick up a newspaper, turn on the TV, or click on an internet news site.

You’ll find headlines screaming at you about economic crisis, crime, joblessness,  war, homelessness, natural disasters, and social disasters.  It’s enough to make you crawl back into bed, pull the covers up tightly over your head, and pull a Rip Van Winkle, hopefully awakening in 20 years to find it’s all over.

Maybe that’s why my mind often reverts to the past because the present is just so difficult to maneuver.   It’s true nostalgia makes one feel better, and when we look back at the past, we tend to remember the perfect moments.

The other day, I drove to a much-needed hair appointment at my favorite salon.   The morning air proved cool enough to fling my car sun roof wide open and power all the windows down.  Traveling on some country back roads to get to the highway, I relished the refreshing morning air, and that’s when I heard it.

A distinct sound immediately transported me back to the past, back to my grandparents’ house.  Somewhere a rooster crowed.   Loudly.   His “cock-a-doodle-doo” rang through the air.  Instantly, I remembered the chicken coop at my grandparents’  where roosters and hens roamed the yard freely.

I also recalled one old mean rooster from which I steered away because he frightened me.  Let’s just say he didn’t like the hand that fed him, that’s for sure.  Once he attacked my grandmother flogging her legs and hands until blood flowed from them.  Since she was elderly, she couldn’t scurry fast enough away from his menacing, pecking beak.  If I remember correctly, he ended up being Sunday dinner.

I was just a young child then, but I remember those things well.  When I think about chickens, I also recollect one Easter when my sister brought home two baby chicks.  They were the cutest, downy fluffs.  But as they grew, they became destined to join the other chickens over at Grandma’s house.   They weren’t so cute then.   In the past, they were adorable.  In the present, not so much.

Later on my day out,  I visited a local antique store.  I’m always on the prowl for vintage items that middle daughter (my antique loving one) might use for her wedding plans.  It was hot and humid in the store, just like stepping back into years of old when air conditioning didn’t exist.  The wooden floor creaked under my feet and the place was crammed full of furniture, what-nots, dishes, you name it.  If it was vintage, it was sitting somewhere in that shop.  Even an old pump-organ rested there amid the clutter.

As I roamed among the nostalgic wares, my eyes would spy something that reminded me of my mother or my grandmother which prompted another trip down memory lane.   Those kitchen items there – Grandma had those.  That lovely dresser set consisting of mirror, jars, comb and brush -  similar to a set my mother used.

All the items packed into that shop were useful in the past; some of them were loved and treasured by someone.  Now they just gathered dust sitting on shelves, crowded into spaces where a passerby might happen to take a liking to them.   In a way, it saddened me to think about all of the lives those discarded items represented.

After a while, the search for just the right treasure proved elusive.  Wilting from the humidity, I crawled back into my car, cranked the a/c up and headed home.  On my way, it occurred to me that we humans resemble those antiques.   Useful, loved and treasured for a few seasons, but one day, life on this earth must end.   For most of us, we’ll only be remembered when something triggers a memory of us in a living soul who once knew and loved us.

It’s true that we are like the grass as God’s Word reminds us in Isaiah 40:6-8: “All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field.  The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the Lord blows on them.  Surely the people are grass.  The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever.”

We wither, we fade away, but that doesn’t mean life is without purpose.  When our purpose is to live for Christ, show others His love, and lead them to Him, our past may not be perfect, neither may our present be,  but the future?  Oh, that will be perfect! Coming face to face with Jesus in Glory, hearing Him say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” and spending eternity with Him is the most picture-perfect future I can imagine.

In my book called Opportunity, Chapter 7 is coming to a close.  On this 30^th page, I’m thankful that the God of the Universe loves me (and you) and desires for us to spend our futures with Him.   To receive that gift of grace that will last for all time, all we have to do is acknowledge that we are His and accept that Jesus is our Savior.

The following Casting Crowns song is one of my favorites.  Even though you and I are just vapors in the wind, flowers quickly fading, waves tossed in the ocean, He hears us and He saves us.

© 2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Wordless Wednesday: In the Garden

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

How to celebrate a blogiversary – chocolate’s on me!

One of my favorite things is chocolate and another is writing this blog.

Obviously, I can’t share my to die for chocolate candy (pictured)  with you.   But I can share my thoughts with my friends and readers in written form here at Mama’s Empty Nest.

July is my “blogiversary” month.    I use the term month because I’m not sure which July date actually commemorates my blog’s anniversary.

Six years ago on July 9, 2005 on a whim and a dare from oldest daughter, I started writing a blog via a different site.  Recuperating from cancer surgery and not physically able to accomplish my usual summer to-do list, I needed something to occupy my time and mind.

Oldest daughter convinced me to create a blog on the same site she then used and I started putting my thoughts into written words again.  My writing topics ranged from silly thoughts to serious ones, everyday life to the change in thinking that a cancer (albeit a curable kind) diagnosis brings.  Once I recovered and returned back to “real life,” I only posted occasionally, when I encountered a little free time, until fall 2007.

And then… nada…zilch…nothing.  My blogging life ended.  Life got in my way.  Hubby and I still had kids in the nest, two sets of college tuition to pay, a calendar full of events to attend, jobs,  a home to maintain, and all of those dominated my waking hours.

With our youngest child’s college graduation last year and all of our children’s subsequent moves away from home, my world and waking hours changed.  I tried social networking for a while; fun at first reconnecting with old friends, but after the novelty wore off, I found myself sitting at the computer playing endless rounds of Reversi and Bubble Town.

Way to let the brain atrophy!  In between popping bubbles and knocking off Reversi opponents, I began reading a far-away friend’s new blog on WordPress.   One day, I realized how much I missed writing myself.   Why not take my love for stringing words together in written form down from the shelf, dust off my skills, and rekindle my blog?   So I moved my old posts from the previous site over to WordPress, started cranking out new posts on July 19, 2010, and my new blog, Mama’s Empty Nest,  was  hatched.

What happened next I compare to coming out of a coma.  Suddenly, my mind leaped into over-drive and so did my senses.  It felt like I had awakened from a very long winter’s nap.  Once I commenced writing, words just kept gushing out of me, words that were obviously bottled up inside for decades.  Ideas would spring into my mind when I gazed at a picture or often when a sight unfolded in front of my eyes, while driving,  and even while sleeping.

My senses seemed heightened – eyes wide open, observing things I couldn’t wait to write about, ears hearing sounds I previously must have taken for granted.  Every day occurrences in my world suddenly needed crafted and sculpted into paragraphs of written language, and I was constantly grabbing the nearest scrap of paper to jot down my thoughts before they melted away.

An old composition notebook became my new best friend in which I scribbled ideas, thoughts, and topics when they surged into my brain.   And then something truly amazing happened.  I realized I wasn’t just writing for myself and my closest family anymore.  Somewhere out there in cyber-land, people  – friends and strangers – started reading my blog and commenting!

A whole new world opened up for me [cue the theme song from Disney’s Aladdin]  as I gained new readers, blogging buddies, and very good friends.   I recently reviewed my posts from five years ago and marveled at the change I see in my writing and even in myself.

Where I once blogged as a way to fill up empty time, now I blog because it brings me joy.  Where I previously wrote whatever came to mind, now my posts have meaning and depth…and I believe, purpose.  I’m thrilled that a fellow blogger recently invited me to join the High Calling Blog Network where I only hope I can rise to the challenge of writing well about work, life, and God like the other talented writers there.

Today, on this 26th page of Chapter 7 in my Opportunity book of life – not exactly my blogiversary date – I  am astonished at how far I’ve come, but I’m more grateful to those who’ve traveled with me on this journey:

• to my family who always encourages me to write (special thanks to hubby who patiently listens to each of my posts while I read them aloud to catch any errors);
• to the friends who personally know me and read my work, spurring me on with kind words of support (you are great cheerleaders!);
• to my new friends, my faithful readers, and fellow bloggers (your comments and your blogs inspire me and I appreciate them so very much);
• to my Lord Jesus Christ who graciously gave me a gift which I must use for His glory and for allowing me to “see” through His eyes as I write.

So Happy Blogiversary to all of us! If I could, I’d share my chocolates with every one of you for the entire month of July!

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Who really has the power? Linemen that’s who.

The scorching summer sun, suspended low in the western sky, slowly disappeared out of sight. 

Darkness enveloped the house.   Twinkling fireflies flickering here and there were the only light visible.  

The steady creaking of the porch swing swaying slowly back and forth seemed to be the only sound, except perhaps for the buzzing of insects.

Using as little effort as possible to move in the sweltering heat, they fanned themselves and tried to catch a wisp of any breeze that happened to float by.   “Ahh,” she sighed wistfully as she sipped a glass of already tepid water.   “I think it’s a little cooler now.”

When they couldn’t bear swatting at pesky insects any longer and darkness had completed descended upon them, they moved inside the unlit, still, and noiseless house.    He found the box of wooden matches and carefully lit the kerosene lamp in the kitchen.   An aura of light radiated in a very small circle around the lamp.

They positioned themselves, he on the easy chair and ottoman, she on the couch.  In the dim light, they could barely see one another.   They sat in silence, each one thinking, “What should we do now?”

Minutes passed slowly and he finally stood up, stretched and said, “I think I’ll just go on up to bed.  Maybe get up early in the morning when it’s light and try to get a few things done.”

She agreed there was nothing else they could accomplish and followed him up the stairs.  The bedroom windows were flung as far open as possible in hopes of allowing wafts of air, now not as heavy-laden with humidity as before the violent storm, to circulate through the screens.

She tossed and turned through the night, trying to find a cooler, comfortable spot on her pillow.  What would tomorrow bring?  What would they do if morning signaled another searing day of this heat wave?  As she tried to nod off to sleep, she whispered her prayers and thanked the Lord for yet another day and that she lived in this century.

That scene may sound like a vignette from yesteryear, back in my grandmother’s day before electricity and modern appliances, but in reality, it described our house last Friday night.  A violent thunderstorm blew into our area, bringing gusty winds, rumbling waves of thunder, and wickedly long, jagged bolts of lightning along with torrents of rain that resulted in flash flooding.  Trees downed across power lines, transformers on fire, and a host of other problems across our area were the end result.  We lost power around 5 p.m.

Let me just state right here, for all to read, I am a wimp.  I am way too dependent on my household appliances and electricity at the flip of a switch.  When the weather turns monstrously hot and humid, I rely on air conditioning, big box fans, and my refrigerator’s ice maker to keep me sane.

Neither hubby nor I slept well without power, not just because we had no air conditioning, but because we kept waking up asking each other, “Is the power back on?”

And it wasn’t.  The next morning, still no electric.  No electric meant no cooking (and no pickle making either, by the way).  Using the side burner of our propane gas grill on our back yard deck, we heated a kettle for a cup of tea.  Then we decided to acclimate ourselves to the heat by working in the garden.

I know.  What an idea!  As the temperatures soared and the humidity closed in on us, we sweat buckets while we hoed and pulled weeds and did some general clean-up in the garden and yard.

I didn’t last as long as hubby did.  He’s obviously made of more sturdy stuff than his wife.  Why I’m so wimpy is a puzzle because my family background consists of people who most definitely were made of strong stock.  All I know is that I probably wouldn’t have survived being a pioneer woman.

So after my eyes burned from sweat rolling into them and my lips were the saltiest I have ever tasted, all I wanted was shade and a huge glass of water, with a scanty smidge of ice cubes still left in the freezer, which I grabbed out as quickly as I could so I could slam shut the door and keep the coldness inside the appliance.

Later that afternoon still with no electricity, we listened to generators hum through the neighborhood and chain saws cutting up fallen trees.   We decided the outage was lasting so long, we needed to act fast to prevent losing our refrigerator and freezer food.  Hubby drove off in search of any nearby store that still had bags of ice.   When he returned, we loaded up our coolers to commence packing them with food.

And that’s when we heard it.  The distinct hum of the refrigerator sounded after almost 24 hours of silence.  The air conditioning unit sprang to life once more.  Our electric clocks flashed at us screaming, “Set me!”  All was right with the world once more….except for this…I made a resolution, and it’s not even January, to start being more grateful and less helpless.

It’s Chapter 7, Page 25, another day in my life named Opportunity, and as I’m refreshed by central air and ice cubes, I’m so very thankful for electricity and modern appliances.

But I’m even more thankful for all of those power company workers who toil many, long hours in blistering heat and freezing cold to restore our power just so I can flip a switch.  Thank you God, for those who make my life easier because those who do so surely are not wimps.

©2011mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Just call me pickle face

“Don’t be a pickle face,” my Mom used to advise me.  In other words, stop looking like a sour puss.  You know, get that grumpy look off your face.  Cheer up, better days ahead and all that.

Alice Roosevelt Longworth, daughter of President Teddy Roosevelt apparently was speaking of Calvin Coolidge when she quipped, “He looks as though he’s been weaned on a pickle.”   And she must have thought he looked downright sour.

Due to the massive sauna-like conditions that a good portion of our country is ensconced in right now, I imagine there are a lot of pickle faces out there, mine included.  I do not deal with heat very well and with temperatures hovering near 100 degrees, adding in 95% humidity, I’ve been feeling and looking quite disagreeable.  So just call me pickle face, I don’t care.

Despite the over-heated oven outside, cucumber plants in hubby’s garden are prolifically producing.   So all of a sudden, I’m surrounded by pickles.  Seriously, they’ve infiltrated a shelf in the refrigerator and they’re threatening to take over.  So it’s time to take the cucumber by the…ok, just take the cucumber….slice, mix up some brine, add spices and dill, and cram them into canning jars.  Hubby and I found a quick and easy recipe for refrigerator pickles that we’re going to try this weekend.

In the meantime, I’m attempting to wipe that pickled look off my face, really I am.   Yes, the heat and humidity make me cranky, but I’m so very thankful for central air conditioning and iced tea.  Since pickling is considered a process by which food is preserved, I guess my cool house and glass full of ice cubes actually do pickle me because they sure are preserving my body and my sanity!

Without them, I truly would be in a pickle, a sticky (no pun intended!) situation so to speak.  Lately, I’ve complained to hubby (and anyone else that would listen) that I’m caught in a predicament – just like the baseball term that’s used for a rundown between bases – between a rock and a hard place.   So adding to my grumpiness over the heat wave is my crankiness over my dilemma.

And before I turn really sour, I need to just get over it!   Get my lethargic self up and shake it off.  Maybe I need to go play a game of pickleball, something I vaguely remembering my kids playing in PE classes in their elementary school in the Pacific Northwest.

Nah, playing pickleball there you only got wet from the misty rain when you ventured outdoors, not from drippy humidity and sweat.   Ah, the Pacific Northwest….thoughts of cool summers and rain…..low humidity if any…..and pickled asparagus (something I cannot find in stores here).

Today, Chapter 7, Page 22, in my Opportunity book, while I marinate in humidity, soak in my quandary, and preserve my fond memories of life once lived in a cooler part of the country, I feel better already!

Pickles, anyone?

©2011mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Wordless Wednesday: Blooming

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

The best antiques are old friends

I highly value friendship.  In my beloved quotes notebook, a plethora of thoughts on this topic gracefully unfurl over many pages.

“We need to have people who mean something to us, people to whom we can turn knowing that being with them is like coming home.” ~ Anonymous

My family roamed far from home for a number of years, moving around the country wherever my husband’s work took us.   At each spot we landed, God graciously provided amazing and supportive friends.  Friendships changed over the years, but I still cherish those far-away friends, even though many miles separate us, and stay connected through emails, social networking, and even this blog.

George Washington once said, “Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.”

Wise words spoken by a founding father of our country, I imagine he said this regarding other nations, beseeching our new country to be cautious about who America’s true friends were and which nations we could trust.   But I think we can extend his observation into our private lives as well.

I consider myself vastly blessed to possess some faithful and loyal relationships – tried and true friends in whom I have utmost trust – which have endured the long haul.   Just this week, I was granted the gift of spending time with two of them in person and one via phone conversation.

These three dear friends are named Mae, Annie, and Leigh (not their real names but they will recognize who they are).    My friendship journey with Mae commenced when we were five years old, just two little whippersnappers enjoying play time together.  We attended the same schools and church and our lives have always been entwined.

Annie and I met as school chums in first grade, staying friends all through elementary school, junior and senior high; we even attended the same college.   Leigh, younger than I, became my close friend when her parents built a home next door to my parents when we were kids; she was maid of honor at my wedding almost 34 years ago.

My friendship with each of these wonderful women has stood the test of time.  We never lost contact with each other as adults, through marriages and raising families, even though I moved away and they stayed in the region surrounding our hometown.

For 52 years, Mae and I have remained friends.   My friendship with Annie has lasted 51 years, and my history with Leigh encompasses well over 45 years.  These gals know me.  I know them.   They are women I turn to for a listening ear, women who give me good counsel, women with whom I have rejoiced, and women with whom I have wept.  They have seen me at my best and witnessed me at my worst, and yet they still like me!  I love them and they will always be my friends.

Time spent with any of the three evolves into a marathon because we have so much to discuss.  I have shared every important aspect of my life with these women and probably way too much trivia as well.  I know for certain that items I disclose to them is never turned into gossip fodder, and I keep their shared life stories just as closely guarded.

On Wednesday, I lunched with Annie.  We had over six months of life to catch up with since we last met. My time with her always seems too short because we discuss everything from soup to nuts and still have more to say.  She encourages me, supports me, yet isn’t timid about giving me food for thought when I need a change in attitude.   That’s why she is one of my most trusted confidantes.

We have shared a lifetime of memories together and we share our faith in God as well.  This quote in my cherished notebook describes what kind of friend Annie is:  “A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart, and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.”  ~ Anonymous

Mae stopped by my house for a visit on Thursday afternoon.  She couldn’t have picked a better time.  I was feeling low, actually physically not well either, and her visit lifted me right up out of my fretting, causing me to forget my physical maladies and easing my troubled mind as well.  Spending time with a dear old friend proved to be the magic elixir to make me feel better that day.   As always, we never ran out of words to say, thoughts to convey, or stories to tell.

She knows my history and I know hers.  We’ve grieved together as we’ve lost loved ones to death, and our friendship is like a comforting shawl we can wrap ourselves in to protect us from the cold reality of this world.  When I read this quote, I thought of Mae:  “A person is only complete when she has a true friend to understand her, to share all her passions and sorrows with, and to stand by her throughout her life.” ~ Anonymous

I’ll see my friend Leigh when I attend her daughter’s high school graduation party soon, so I spoke with her last night by phone to tell her we’d be making the trip to her home for the festivities.   That conversation lasted over three hours! When I talk with this good friend, it really is like coming home.  As next-door neighbors growing up, she and I practically lived at each other’s houses.  I love her parents because they were always like second parents to me.

Leigh has always been someone with whom I can share my innermost thoughts – be they good or bad.  We often reminisce about our childhoods, so when I ran across this quote, I automatically thought of her: “When we are grown, we’ll smile and say we had no cares in childhood’s day, but we’ll be wrong. ‘Twill not be true, I’ve this much care… I care for you.” ~Anonymous

Obviously, I don’t get to see these friends every day or even very often.   But just when I need them, they are there for me.  I count that as the most amazing gift.

As I give thanks for these three dear ones on Page 16, Chapter 7, in my Opportunity book of life, I hope they view me as a gift as well – one of those rare gifts, the kind you never want to exchange for another, or re-gift to someone else, because you just want to treasure it for yourself since that’s the kind of gift they are to me.

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:  If one falls down, his friend can help him up.”  ~ Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Wordless Wednesday: City or country?

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

Fallen and can’t get up?

The other day I fell.

I didn’t trip, stumble, stagger, tumble, slip, teeter or lose my balance.  I fell.  Hard.

I lurched.  I sprawled.  I dropped faster than the proverbial hot potato.  I was down for the count like a boxer who just took one to the chin and kisses the canvas of the boxing ring floor.   And I can blame it on my computer.

Sitting in my family room on my day off, I needed to complete a work project, so I had brought my office laptop computer home with me.  While working on that device,  I also decided to fire up my personal laptop.

I happily bounced back and forth between typing my project on the business computer to checking Facebook updates, email and blog stats on my personal one.  You see, I really am a bonafide multi-tasker.  I believe it’s my middle name.

Ward, the work computer, indicated his battery was draining fast, so I plugged his cord into the electrical outlet.  Of course, Penelope, the personal laptop, had to follow suit.  And she was downright pesky about it.  She kept beeping at me and then gave off a dire warning, so I located her adapter cord and plugged her in as well.

There they sat, Ward and Penny, side by side on the coffee table, recharging so they could further assist me, while I occupied the couch, crunching some numbers on a calculator.   And then the phone rang – not my cell, the house phone in the kitchen.

One minute I stood up to rush to answer the phone, the next minute I slammed into the floor.  Belly-flopped.  Face planted in the carpet.  Stunned and thinking, “What the heck just happened to me?”

I lifted my head,  expecting to have a bloody nose because I smacked the floor face first that hard.  Relieved to see no blood, I rolled over to take assessment of the rest of my body.  That’s when I noticed one of the laptop cords was still twirled around my big toe (yeah, I never wear shoes in the house) and obviously was the culprit for taking me down.

I slowly worked my way into an upright position, thankfully realizing nothing was broken on me or the laptops.  I vaguely remembered the odd sensation of lurching forward unable to catch myself, hitting my left hip on the edge of the coffee table and my right hip on the arm of the sofa on my way down to my crash landing on the floor.

I still can’t quite understand how Penelope and Ward managed to stay perfectly perched on the coffee table though, while I ended up sprawled on the carpet.    I always accuse both computers of having  minds of their own, and now I’m wondering if the two of them were in cahoots – you know, a conspiracy theory.

The day after my plummet, I definitely felt the damage – both hips bruised and even my stomach hurt from the impact.   For a few days afterward, you could have nick-named me “Hop-a-Long,” as I ambled slowly especially while going up and down our staircase.

So why write about obviously being a klutz?  I do so because it occurred to me, each time I winced from my bruises, that my fall describes what life is often like.  One minute you’re breezing along like nobody’s business, taking care of business, and then boom!

You’re laid flat.  Something knocks you for a loop.  The rug gets pulled out from under you.  You never saw it coming.   Those hidden obstacles send you reeling and flying.   That’s life.  There’s not much we can do about that.   Bad things happen.  Falls occur.  Things don’t turn out the way you expect.

But there is something we can do about the way we respond to the bumps and lumps, twists and turns, and belly-smackers and head-bangers on our way.  Do we wallow while we’re down, drowning ourselves with misery and “woe is me” attitudes?  Do we just give up saying, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!?”  Or do we dust ourselves off, pick ourselves up, and move forward?

My middle daughter experienced her fair share of disappointments while she was still a college student.  An injury sidelined her from her sport of choice, but instead of feeling sorry for herself, she simply moved on and attempted something different – running on the college cross country team.

Once during an important meet, she was closing in on the finish line, when splat –  she fell!   Those watching all gasped.  She could have quit, she could have writhed on the ground weeping in despair.  But she didn’t!  She scrambled to her feet, planted a smile on her face, and finished the race bleeding knees and all.  I’ve always admired her courage and guts in doing so.

I’d like to think she inherited her determination from her parents, but I attribute her tenacity and optimistic attitude to her faith in God.  He helped her through the long haul.  She’s learned to hold onto her faith in Jesus for dear life and when we fall, as we surely do, He offers His hand to lift us up.

The Apostle Paul wrote in Philippians 3:12-14,  “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

My recent fall reminded me today in my Opportunity book, Chapter 7, Page 12, that even though life looks so very rosy right now at our house, falls will come.  Obstacles will cause me to stumble; circumstances will happen beyond my control.  But I must forget what’s behind and remember instead to press forward knowing that Jesus stands ever ready to help and guide me.  Even though I will fall,  He will always be there for me just as He always has been, arms outstretched ready to pick me up.

Deuteronomy 33:27 promises that to all of those who put their faith in Christ Jesus:  “The eternal God is your refuge and underneath are the everlasting arms.” 

What about you?  Do you believe God’s everlasting arms are always underneath you?  Won’t you join me today, right now, in thanking Him for always being within our reach?

“Underneath are the everlasting arms.  What child of God was ever allowed to fall lower than God’s underneath?” ~ H. Gill

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

I’ll be a sunbeam

If happiness were measured by how much the sun was shining, in my world today it would be blindingly bright.

The last several months have been a bit of a trial for us here at Mama’s Empty Nest, not unbearable just a time of uncertainty.  We’ve considered much, reflected more, and have diligently sought God’s guidance as we faced a period of insecurity.   Through it all, hubby and I have tried to seek God’s will, petitioned Him in prayer and waited….and waited.

We’ve praised and thanked God the Father for the provisions He provided for us and how He continued to supply our needs during our bit of a trial.   We’ve held tightly to our faith and scripture from 1 Peter 5:7 has been especially comforting to me:   “Cast all your anxiety on him because He cares for you.”

And just like that first beaming ray of sunshine thrust downward from the sky piercing its way through the dark and ominous clouds of a rainstorm, our long-awaited answers to prayer arrived this week, not just one answer but two!

American writer Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote, “Just as there comes a warm sunbeam into every cottage window, so comes a love-beam of God’s care for every separate need.”

Today, on this 10^th page of my book of Opportunity in Chapter 7, there’s not just a warm sunbeam shining in our country home cottage window.  Instead I feel like my entire home is ablaze with sunshine – a beacon of light – as God, maker of heaven and earth, has poured blessings upon our heads.

For most of this year, my husband has been unemployed.   There have been ups and downs, highs and lows, encouragements and disappointments as he sought another position.   In a period of time that can be devastating and demoralizing, I can honestly say – in our 33 years of marriage –  I have never seen my husband stronger.

Instead of embracing defeat, he embraced our Savior Jesus Christ more than ever through reading the Word and devout prayer, through servanthood to others, and his willingness to help those in more dire need than ourselves.

I believe God has blessed my husband for his steadfastness and faith, for his total reliance on Him, and for his thorough self-examination identifying attitudes and thoughts he needed to change.  Just this week, my husband was offered a job.  Not just any job, but a job that he is excited about,  an emotion he hasn’t experienced when it comes to work for a very long time.

On the heels of that sunbeam of joy that radiated down over us, our oldest daughter flew in for a job interview in our nearby city.   She truly loves her current job and employer in the Deep South, but after four years of living in that area, her heart tells her she doesn’t want to stay there any longer.  She recently expressed her desire to live closer to our family, a prayer desire Mama and Papa have lifted to the Father for quite some time.

After a promising phone interview, a prospective employer asked her to fly in for a face-to-face.  Again joy permeated through me like the warmth of a sunbeam when our daughter was offered a new job right here in our city!  Celebration reigned at our house this weekend!

This morning at o’dark thirty, Papa and I drove our beloved eldest to the airport for her early morning flight back south, where she won’t reside much longer.  This time, the farewells at the terminal weren’t melancholy, they were jubilant as we look forward to the future.

The sun started rising as we headed home afterward.  As dawn began to break, the old Sunday School song, “I’ll Be a Sunbeam,” came to my mind.

“Jesus wants me for a sunbeam to shine for Him each day,

In every way try to please Him, at home, at school, at play.

A sunbeam, a sunbeam, Jesus wants me for a sunbeam.

A sunbeam, a sunbeam, I’ll be a sunbeam for Him.

I will ask Jesus to help me to keep my heart from sin,

Ever reflecting His goodness, and always shine for Him.

I’ll be a sunbeam for Jesus; I can if I but try;

Serving Him moment by moment, then live with Him on high.”

That song echoed through my mind while I tried to stay awake as we entered a tunnel on our way from the airport into the city.  As you exit this particular passageway, you are treated to a full view of our beautiful city.  The sight of it never ceases to inspire awe in me.

This morning, upon exiting the tunnel, another awe-inspiring sight revealed itself – the gorgeous morning sun, rising up like a gargantuan round orb of luminous orange-red.  Its light blinded me as it perched perfectly between two sentinel skyscrapers, slowly ascending into the morning sky, and I chastised myself again for not grabbing my camera before I left the house.  It truly was a breath-taking, beautiful sight and I gasped, then said to hubby, “Wow!  Look at that!”

A scripture in Judges 5:31 came to my mind:  “So may all your enemies perish, Lord!   But may all who love you be like the sun when it rises in its strength.”

As I squinted into the sun’s radiance, I thought, “How could we ever appreciate the sun if we never had night?”

Likewise, how could we ever appreciate the blessings if we never endured trials?  How could we appreciate life’s happiness if we never experienced life’s storms?

Jane Porter, a Scottish novelist in the 1800’s, once wrote:  “Happiness is a sunbeam which may pass through a thousand bosoms without losing a particle of its original ray.  When it strikes a kindred heart, like the converged light upon a mirror, it reflects itself with the redoubled brightness.  It is not perfected until it is shared.”

Happiness, like sunbeams, are not perfected unless they are shared, and I think that’s true about faith as well.  That’s why I must share my faith in Jesus Christ with you in hopes that you too might want to be a sunbeam for Him.

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