Author: marycatherinethomas

M. Catherine Thomas is a published writer, speaker and teacher. Mother of two and grandmother..

I Don’t Understand

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“Then a dispute arose among them as to which of them would be greatest. 47 And Jesus, perceiving the thought of their heart, took a little child and set him by Him, 48 and said to them, “Whoever receives this little child in My name receives Me; and whoever receives Me receives Him who sent Me. For he who is least among you all will be great.” Luke 9: 46-48 (NKJV)

I became a born-again Christian in 1977. 46 years ago. Almost a half century ago.

When I was first saved, I devoured the Bible, read it and tried to absorb all I could. Having never read the Bible before I basically underlined the entire Bible. I didn’t understand most of it, but I was still excited. I thought as I grew as a Christian, I would totally understand each word and be able to dissect it with precision.

We go to a church that preaches the Word of God with truth and power. We are blessed to be in this church. We recently began a study on Heaven. Our pastor is gleaning from the book by Randy Alcorn, “Heaven“. The study has challenged thoughts I have carried about Heaven and has excited me at the same time. It’s excellent.

The Ladies of our church have been having a Bible Study at the same time on the 7 churches in Revelation. Our teacher is someone who studies and can present deep topics with grace and ability. I sit amazed and try to absorb all I can while she teaches.

Late this past summer, I talked to the Lord and asked Him to help me grow closer to Him and to learn more from Him. I felt inadequate in my walk with the Lord. I want more. I desire to walk so close to Him that with each breath I am being led and hearing all I can from Him. I guess this Mary (me) is desiring to be Mary who sat at the feet of Jesus.

In this time, I have begun to think that I am like a child in faith still. A child will ask it’s parent, “what does that mean?” Most of the times, after getting an answer they will walk or run back to what they are doing. They may understand or they may not. I have seen looks on my grandchildren’s faces after asking a question. Sometimes it’s satisfaction and sometimes, it’s filled with more questions.

Lately, I am the latter. I have derided myself. Why am I not understanding? Why am I questioning?

Matthew 18:3, ” And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (NIV)

I have read this scripture many times. I have heard sermons and teachings on child-like faith. I have always in my mind wondered about this verse. Like Nicodemus, I ponder. Yes, I am born again, I get that part, but how do I return to be a child, to have faith like theirs?

This morning, as I read the Bible (and yes, basically underlining each sentence) it occurred to me that my prayers to have that child like ability have been answered. I am reading, listening, and questioning. I pray that I keep running, like a little child to question what I have just heard and run to my Heavenly Father and ask what it means. After almost 50 years, I have begun to be a child.

Those We Grow Up With

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“I could never love anyone as I love my sisters.” —Little Women film adaptation (1994)

I am a middle child of three. My sisters and I raised one another. It was our life and it was our normal. We have wonderful memories of the years we grew up together.

Yes we fought as sisters do. We laughed and were silly at times. We had inside jokes that we can still recall. We would sneak each other’s clothes, make-up and sometimes shoes.

My younger sister and I would play with the ‘grown up ‘ things of our older sister, her long gloves, her eye shadows. We looked at her prom dresses.

I married in 1975 and moved away. I missed decades with my sisters. Life with them was long distanced. I couldn’t do much at all. Snail mail was our only connection, except on weekends when rates were cheaper for long distance calls.

Email, text messages, cell phones have changed that. It’s wonderful. We all live apart from one another. Different states in different parts of the country is not how we dreamed it would be. We thought we would marry and live on the southside of our town, within walking distance. I often wonder how that would have been.

There are conversations we have where you feel a part of what they are doing. When my younger sister is walking her dog, I have done that with her, both physically and while we are talking on the phone. Those times as she says she is in the car heading home, I almost want to say, well, what should we do for dinner? It seems so natural to continue.

Last night I had such a conversation. The kind where you go beyond relaying news and weather. The kind of conversation where you want to keep talking into the still hours of the night. Talking about everything under the sun and nothing at all.

As I climbed into bed last night I thanked God for the blessing of my sisters. I know they are always there and would do anything for each of us at the drop of a pin. But there are times when although the knowledge is there, a hunger for a hug and a squeeze is what is needed.

Psalm 139:13 says,”For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb.” (NKJV) This is one of my favorite scriptures. It reminds me that our Lord knows me intimately. As He formed me in my mother’s womb, He formed my sisters. He knows them intimately and He created us and put us together as family. His plan for us as sisters is still going on. Time, distance, life separates us, but the bond of being sisters is so much greater than all of that.

I am a middle child. I am blessed to be between two precious women. Thank you Jesus.

Sigh…

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to take a deep audible breath (as in weariness or relief) ~ Merriam and Webster definition.

Sigh. We all do it. I am married to someone who sighs all the time. I have a difficult time trying to figure out what the sigh means, is he sore? Is he frustrated? Is he angry? Is it just a sigh? It is a running commentary most of the time for us. His response usually is it is a cleansing breath.

This morning I read Mark 8:12, “But He sighed deeply in His spirit, and said, “Why does this generation seek a sign? Assuredly, I say to you, no sign shall be given to this generation.” (NKJV)

After reading this, my thought was, “huh, Jesus sighed too”. I then wondered how many times he sighed while on this earth. Most likely a multitude of times! He probably still sighs.

Yesterday while I was coming in from town, I received a text, it was one I was looking forward to. Fortunately, I hit a red light so I was able to read it. I immediately started loudly thanking God and praising Him for the information in this text. I was alone, so I could be as loud as I wanted to be. My oldest had had a successful surgery.

After praising God for a minute or two, I sighed. It was a memorable sigh for me. I sighed and a weight was lifted off of me. A season of life was now in the past. Tears filled my eyes and I had to remind myself that I was behind the wheel, so tears were stopped and I drove the rest of the way home.

A sigh. An action of a four letter word that encompasses so many things. Yesterday it signaled relief, a weight lifted, prayers answered, a season over for the most part.

Life is filled with sighs. Yesterday the sigh was joyful. Today it may mean something entirely different. I keep thinking of a saying popular in years past, What would Jesus do? I read it today, He sighed. Thank you Jesus, yesterday I did what You would do.

Measuring Up

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“For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you.” Matthew 7:2 (NKJV)

All of us know the experience of being measured. I can remember my Dad using a small knife to make an indent in the door frame and then marking it to measure our growth.

When I visit our oldest, my granddaughter will take me to a doorway, she will stand there and show me how much she has grown. I make a big deal of her getting too big and that she needs to stop growing. We both laugh and hug and it’s a sweet moment for us as we know she is not going to stop growing while I keep getting shorter.

Measuring is important in life. When we cook, bake, sew, knit, all the activities we do need measurements. Yardsticks, measuring tapes, surveying equipment, they are all necessary.

Lately I have been thinking of how I measure up. How do I measure myself? What yardstick do I use? Do I use a measuring tape? How does this all reflect on how the world sees me, how the Lord sees me?

All deep questions that I think most of us deal with on some level. The self reflection that seeps into our mind quietly like a low tide wave hitting the shoreline.

I really have no answers, but just the thought bubbles above my head. On what scale is my reflection? In my mind do I see myself in a hall of mirrors in a fun house? The ones that make your head elongated and your body squat, giving you a time to laugh at the reflection. Or am I still trying to see the clear reflection of my true self, the true measurement of how I was created?

My deep desire is to see myself as God sees me. Flawed, scarred but healing by His grace and mercy. To see the reflection of Christ in me, so that when the world looks, they don’t see Cathi, they see the reflection of Christ in me.

I Think My Record Has a Scratch On It

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“For God’s gifts and his call can never be withdrawn.” Romans 11:29 (NLT)

I am old enough to remember spending my afternoons and weekends listening to 45’s and albums. In middle school, I loved the Monkees. This group helped me in many ways cope with the death of my Mom. I had all of their albums and played them over and over. On their first album was the song, “The Last Train to Clarksville”, which had a scratch in it. There was one point in the song that made it sound like the singer had a case of the burps, where it just kept replaying a note. The needle was stuck in the groove from the scratch. It was at this point where you either put a penny on the top of the needle to give it more weight to keep tracking or you gently put a finger on top of the needle to keep it tracking. To this day, whenever I hear this song my mind automatically puts the scratch part of the song in my mind. I smile whenever this happens.

We all have records that we play in our mind. Not the actual vinyl albums, but records of how we feel about ourselves or what has been told or yelled at us through the years. These records replay negative things in our mind and follow us through life, unfortunately.

How often do you listen to ‘those’ records? Recently I have listened to mine and it has been stuck on the same note. For me, that note is feeling inadequate. These notes stick in my brain, and they clog my heart and soul. In these times, I cannot clearly see or hear God’s voice telling me that I am enough. I fail to hear God’s voice that Yes, I can write, yes I can minister. Mainly that I CAN.

What I have once more learned that when I focus on the skip in the recording instead of allowing the Lord to rest His finger on the needle of my heart so that the skip is barely noticeable, I can continue with the song that is my life.

God’s finger He places on us is a gentle touch. He doesn’t want us to listen to bad recordings. He has more for us. He has the beautiful harmony that He has created for us. His recordings bring us life and fullness of joy. When I was in middle school we had a stack of 45’s. We would go through that stack and discover songs we had forgotten we had. We’d play them and remember why they were at the bottom of the stack, they were just bad. The same is true in our life, (especially mine), when we reach down and play the recordings that do not give us life, do not draw us closer to God and to what He has planned for us.

I, once more, have to take the record I have been listening to and toss it or better still, break it so it cannot be taken out again.

Life With No Internet

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Tuesday morning our internet stopped. Just like that.

In a matter of moments we backtracked to the Stone Age, you know B.C (before computers), which was most of my life.

Several times I have stopped myself and wondered how I got so much done in a day, back in B.C.. I used to be able to do many things in the span of a day.

Well, by Tuesday afternoon, muscle memory kicked in. I remembered how I accomplished so much. I was not sucked into the laptop and social media. It was freeing. I started reading a book, and found that I actually can read more than a chapter a day.

We take breaks in our chores and head for our phones or devices. We just want a quick break to rest from moving. That quick break turns into an hour. At the end of the hour I feel lifeless, idle and moving is a chore in itself. The internet truly sucks up life and time.

I thought of writing notes to people and realized this is what I would have done in years gone by. I didn’t have the world wide web to pull me in and dazzle me with search engines and endless catalogs to browse.

We had three days, counting Tuesday and today without connectivity, that meant no tv, no landline, no computer, The house was quiet. We relearned how to use our DVD player. We talked with one another. It was glorious!

I have lived without computers, like I said, for most of my life. I started to get used to it again. I do confess though, when the repair truck came down the driveway this afternoon, we smiled to each other. He had us up and running in short time and for that I am grateful.

Pathway

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“Just as you cannot understand the path of the wind or the mystery of a tiny baby growing in its mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the activity of God, who does all things.” Ecclesiastes 11:5 (NLT)

I have long been fascinated by pathways. I find when I travel I take several pictures of a path that I see. As I am a nature coward, I rarely go onto the path. I fear snakes, bees, ticks, and anything else that may be lurking in the area. Because of this, I know I miss out on seeing things that the Lord created.

When we drive I look out the passenger’s window and think of how the area looked long ago. I wonder if the boys and men in the Civil War were surprised by the swamps and alligators. I imagine the fear and wonder that must have grasped the British during the Revolutionary War. My mind never really stops.

This past week I have thought of paths from long ago. I have questioned if I was headed in the right direction. I pondered pathways.

Often I will revert into my mind and overthink things. This is not a good thing to do for any length of time. I can get lost in my reverie.

Yesterday I watched a video that talked about Lot’s wife. Genesis 19:17,”When they were safely out of the city, one of the angels ordered, “Run for your lives! And don’t look back or stop anywhere in the valley! Escape to the mountains, or you will be swept away!” (NLT)

One would think an angel telling you this would be enough to cause total obedience. But, no, Genesis 19:26, “But Lot’s wife looked back as she was following behind him, and she turned into a pillar of salt.” (NLT)

I realize I can be like Lot’s wife. I can look back to earlier times, easier times (although time has eased memories to make it appear easier) and yearn to be back there.

There was a point in our life where we made a decision. We have followed through with that decision. The past couple of weeks I have questioned that decision. Last evening, the Lord, ever faithful and true shook me out of myself.

Pathways are great to look at, dream, ponder and wonder. But, God wants us to keep moving forward. So, forward I go. I will place our vacation and time in Maine into the scrapbook in my heart. I will pull it out to remember and smile. I will then close it and return to the path I am on.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation (part 2) “The Trajectory of a Life”

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“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” Psalm 56:8 (NLT)

Forty two years ago we left Winter Harbor.

We left this home. A home of a young family, Mom, Dad, Daughter. In this home we had much laughter and tears. This home is where we were overjoyed to find out we were having a second child. Months later, we lost that child.

This home was filled with teens from our youth group, The Harbor Lights. It was comprised of Navy kids and town kids. They would pile into our living room, most of them on the floor, and always crowded with very little room to walk between them. Each Sunday night it was the same thing, put our daughter to bed, and wait for the kids, our kids. They would be boisterous, loud, talking all at once. They would also wait for hearing a bottle thrown from a crib onto the floor and then the sound of a two year old attempting to climb out of the crib, mostly landing with a thud and a cry. They would all jump up to get the baby and be told to sit down. They wanted to play with her, and I wanted her to sleep. They thought us grown and mature, we were only a few years apart actually.

When we drove away from this home, it was with the promise that we would return shortly. We drove off to California, thinking we would return for good in six years. That was where our heart was. This was the direction we thought we would go.

Life changes.

Going to Winter Harbor for our summer vacation I thought would just be an easy trip. Enjoy the scenery, the food, the people. Have some memories and relax.

I did all of the above, but something I wasn’t expecting happened. The easy trip was a beautiful one but the Lord had other plans for me.

Sitting in our little home we rented I looked across the street to a former home of a friend. Both are with the Lord now. Beside them the home of another couple. We talk often, but not as often as we should. We share what age is doing. How it is affecting us. Looking at their home I thought of the easy laughter we shared. The time her husband walked up the path between our homes (now overgrown and non existent) mooing at the cows grazing. I watched from my back door as he realized that there was also a bull present and a chase began. The bull sounding out and defending territory and this man running faster than I had seen a man run uphill.

Each turn in the road brought back memories. They danced with the thoughts, hopes and prayers of my younger self.

My heart stirred with echoes of prayers said so long ago while I questioned if my current life reflected the perfect will of God or if I was living the permissive will of God while He’s waited for me to catch up with what His plans truly are for me.

The questions still remain. The awesome thing about Winter Harbor is the presence of God. His majesty reflected in the coast, in the water, the rocks, the fog, the beauty. It all calls out to me. In the voice of the fog horns I hear the voice of my God. Calling out to me, guiding me in the clouds of my life.

Pensive reflection joined me on this trip. I thought of the trajectory of lives. Some remain steady, slowly gaining momentum. Some see a destination and fly to it, sharing the Lord as they go.

I have seen mine like the tides. It ebbs and flows. Always pounding the same heart, the same mind. I have wondered if my life is like the rocks on Schoodic Point, strong, present, barely showing signs of erosion, or if my life is like the bay where pluff mud is visible and noticed by the smelly scent.

I have often said that I left part of my heart in Maine. What I didn’t realize the part I left was so much of my heart.

I know we will never live there permanently, but I am so very blessed to have been able to live there for a season. A season when I grew to know my Lord in a stronger way. A time when I was taught the majesty and splendor of the Living God. A place where waves crash loudly on rock, the fog moves quickly and hovers it’s dense blanket on the homes and shores. A place that yells the glory and might of God and yet, He comes into my heart quietly there and whispers to me. He urges me and nudges me to draw closer to Him. He welcomes me back home there, and then continues on this journey with me.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation (part 1)

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“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.” John 1:27 (NLT)

At the end of July, Dale and I traveled to VA Beach to our oldest daughter’s home. A few days later all of us piled into a vehicle and headed north.

A day later, we arrived at our destination, Winter Harbor, Maine. For the next week we resided in an old Navy housing area. Looking up beyond the housing area, we could see the back of the home we lived in during the early 80’s. Across the street were the former homes of friends from our time there.

Winter Harbor did not disappoint. It was as welcoming as it was decades ago. Many changes have happened, but all of them good changes.

Memories walked beside me, holding onto my hands and heart. They sang songs to me of past joy. The rugged coastline, solid and firm, spoke to me of the long lasting experiences that helped shape me into who I am today.

The cries of the gulls echoed the voice of our granddaughter as she searched for shells and climbed the rocks. The coastal roses, sweet in fragrance always caught her attention as she would stop, smell and pick one, just to keep.

Visiting with a woman, who, as a teen babysat our oldest daughter made the time there complete for me. I have often told the Lord that if I could touch at least one life in a lasting way, I would feel like I have accomplished something. Her hugs and our conversation confirmed that although her life has touched mine deeply, mine had touched hers also. We wanted to see many more people, but time, and their lives didn’t work out to see them. I carried them in my heart and remembered them at each turn.

We were stationed in Winter Harbor two years after being saved. Our relationship with our Lord was new, young. We were excited and anxious to do something, anything for him. Walking the streets again renewed that desire for me. It was coming home to me.

Winter Harbor anchored itself in me. We have lived many places in our life. Each has their own kind of special, but none compare to the hold this coastal city has on me. As we drove into town my heart leapt in me. The vistas called my name and welcomed me home.

We have been back several times, but only for a day, maybe two. A week there and I felt the roots of my life there start to take hold of me, urging me to stay. But, as my favorite poem by Robert Frost says, “The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep,” The coast is rugged and draws me to it, but, as the poem states, I have promises to keep.

So, with fresh memories made, and a tummy full of lobster and mussels and scallops, we packed up richer in spirit, and came home.

Time to Step Away

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“Then Jesus said, “Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.” Mark 6:1 (NLT)

We all need time to go off and leave normal behind. We have that opportunity soon and I am so looking forward to it. Next week we will be in Maine.

We lived in Maine for three years in the early 80’s. Those three years were some of the best years of my life. I am anxious to once more walk and see the rock bound coast, hearing the gulls cry and seeing the waves of the mighty Atlantic Gulf of Maine come rushing up over the rocks.

I long to smell the sea air, different from other sea air with a slight briskness of the north hiding underneath the fragrance of pluff mud and seaweed. To listen to the fog horns in the distance and to look for the lights of the lighthouses.

We had planned to retire there. To live out the bulk of life there, enjoying the creative majesty of God. I think this area must be close to what Heaven is, as I am enveloped in the peace I find in the coast.

I left pieces of my heart there when we left in 1982. I am hoping to rediscover those pieces when we visit, although I know those pieces will not want to rejoin me.

We plan to visit a few people. A couple of the girls from our youth group held in our home. They babysat our oldest and stopped almost daily at our house before heading home from school. Precious women who are a testament of the ministry we had there. I long to hug them and get caught up.

We will stop in to see friends who were our mentors in our young Christian walk. They poured much into our lives and hearts. They often appeared at our door with just what we were in need of, be it hand me downs that were beautiful for our daughter or advice and teaching. We need to see them, just one more time.

It’s been 32 years since we last were there. Our oldest was 12 and now, she wants her daughter and husband to see a part of her past.

My soul recently has been downcast. My mind has raced from one thought to battle another and I am weary. I know soon I will be refreshed. I will be refreshed because I will be home this side of glory for just a few days.

“Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
2 This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust Him.” Psalm 91:1-2 (NLT)