Category: Memories

Memorial Day

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Memorial Day is not the first day of summer. It is not a day to mark the beginning of summer activities. It is not a day to celebrate with friends and family in a big bar-b-Que although we all do that. Stores have memorial day sales. Grocery stores run specials on things for a cook out.

When I was a little girl, my Dad would walk us to a local cemetery. There was an area for funerals or for memorials. On Memorial Day a small military unit stood at attention. Old men would stand up and speak. Everyone looked ancient to me. Taps was played. It wasn’t something that I looked forward to, as we had to be still and quiet. We sat on a tombstone to see the activities. My Dad would be one of them to stand at attention beside us in the grass. He looked somber. It would last less than an hour and then we would walk home, looking forward to grilled hotdogs and beans.

As I have grown older and after having been a navy wife for almost 21 years, I have realized why we have Memorial Day. It is not for veterans. It is not for those who are serving. This day is for those who died while in uniform. Lives cut short, many in foreign countries and in their early 20’s. Those boys who had the courage and determination to defend our country. They not only put their lives on the lines, they gave their lives. They never returned home. Their rooms were never occupied again, they never hugged their family again. They gave. They deserve to be remembered. They deserve honor.

Yes, we will most likely have a picnic type lunch. We will look forward to summer. We will have a day to enjoy one another. My bunting is up to show my love for our country. Red, white and blue are evident on our outside, and inside. I am unashamedly patriotic.

But today, let us remember the men and women who have given all. In the Old Testament we read many times of memorials being built to remember events. One example is from Joshua 4:4-7,”So Joshua called together the twelve men he had chosen—one from each of the tribes of Israel. 5 He told them, “Go into the middle of the Jordan, in front of the Ark of the Lord your God. Each of you must pick up one stone and carry it out on your shoulder—twelve stones in all, one for each of the twelve tribes of Israel. 6 We will use these stones to build a memorial. In the future your children will ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ 7 Then you can tell them, ‘They remind us that the Jordan River stopped flowing when the Ark of the Lord’s Covenant went across.’ These stones will stand as a memorial among the people of Israel forever.” (NLT)

In the New Testament memorials continued, “And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is My body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.” Luke 22:19 (NKJV)

We do things daily as remembrances, at church we do the same. Today, let us remember those who gave for you. Let us honor those who gave their lives for you.

Blossoming into Me

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Introvert: in·​tro·​vert | \ ˈin-trə-ˌvərt a person whose personality is characterized by introversion : a typically reserved or quiet person who tends to be introspective and enjoys spending time alone Merriam-Webster Dictionary

I am an introvert. People who know me tend to disagree, but I am. People can cause me exhaustion, except if I am teaching or sharing of the Lord’s goodness. I have to be comfortable with people before I can relax enough to be me. This has taken years to be able to do this.

For the greater part of my life, I felt invisible. I don’t say this for sympathy, or encouragement, it is a statement. I have two beautiful sisters, I am in the middle. Middle children tend to be a bit weird anyhow. I can say that as I am one.

We got a Christmas card from an uncle shortly after my Mom passed, the note inside addressed my Dad, my older sister, my younger sister and then it read, I forget the other one’s name. I now laugh at it, as I am horrible remembering names, but at the time it felt like a stomach punch. How could an uncle not remember my name? I guess I should be relieved that he knew I was in the family. Later on in high school my younger sister had a date with someone in my class. He knocked on the door, I answered, he introduced himself and asked if I was her younger sister. I smiled and said, no, older sister, and I have a class with you, you sit two seats away from me. He looked stunned and I laughed like only invisible people can.

Once we were married, we would go to work functions and if Dale wasn’t right beside me, people who I had met would come up and introduce themselves to me. When I reminded them who I was, they apologized and quickly exited. I told Dale that I should just put “Dale’s wife” on name tags since no one remembered me.

I say this in jest, but it caused me pain for many years. I thought that if I was invisible to people, how could I be remembered. We all hope that we leave a legacy of some sort. I knew my sisters, family and friends would remember me, but I have always had a longing to leave a mark in this world.

Because of this feeling of invisibility, I found I sought out people who were wall flowers like me. The people who stood outside circles while others were laughing and talking. I met many great friends this way. People who I could open up to and they could to me.

Now being on the downhill side to another decade, I am comfortable in my skin. It’s taken a while, I confess, but I truly feel I am blossoming into me through God’s grace and mercy.

Psalm 34:15 says, “The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, And His ears are open to their cry.” (NKJV) True, there have been many nights of crying out to the Lord to be all I can in Him. I have asked to be the me He created me to be. I have finally gotten out of His way for the most part. I still rebel if I have to walk into a strange group or situation. I still panic having guests into our home. I don’t think that will ever change and honestly, I hope it doesn’t as then I know that the Lord is the One who has gotten the glory in my shortcomings.

We are not invisible to our Lord, Isaiah 49:15-16, “Can a mother forget the infant at her breast,  walk away from the baby she bore? But even if mothers forget,  I’d never forget you—never. Look, I’ve written your names on the backs of my hands. The walls you’re rebuilding are never out of my sight.” (MSG) I often remind myself that He knows me. He knows me better than anyone else. He knows the number of hairs on my head, as He does yours. Even those hairs in your hairbrush. He knows what is deep in my heart and mind. He sees us with His eyes. He is with us in the dark and quiet corners that we can retreat to if we are having a hard time. As an introvert I love this about our God. I can blossom into me knowing He is right there with me.

Remembering

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This morning as I sat listening to my favorite channel on Pandora, I was taken back to my living room in Nagai. It was a small room, but cozy. Our living room was painted like every living room in the housing area. No color, just a bland form of white-gray or gray-white. Hard to tell, really. I had two large windows in the room and a small window that held the air conditioner which only blew the cold air to the opposite wall where there was a built in bookcase. The back window looked out to our back yard and the dog house . Beyond the yard were rice paddies and fields of crops. The front window was my view of Mt. Fuji.

My schedule while living in Nagai was busy. I worked for the Army Veterinarian (part of the Calvary) on Monday-Wednesday and Friday. In the evenings on Wednesday I taught my private student English and then afterwards would go to the school where I taught two classes, Thursday evening I taught three classes, and Friday was again two. Once a month on Saturday I traveled to another school where I taught three classes English. I was always on the move with trains, buses and on foot. I loved it.

Thursday during the day was for me. I would catch up on laundry and cleaning and then I would sit in my living room. Our furniture at the time was borrowed from the Navy, except our stereo stand and the stereo. On Thursday I would sit in the chair, Bible in hand and that was my time to be with the Lord. I would read, pray and listen to music. I paid attention to the words. I allowed them to go deep in me. I was learning to worship my God.

At the time songs were scripture put to words. The words took root in my heart, planted by the artists performing the music and watered by the Lord listening to my prayers.

They were sweet times for me. I love having alone time. Time where I can be quiet and devote my full attention to God. At that time we had no children so alone time was truly alone. As the years went on alone time was next to impossible. Motherhood filled my mind with activities and chores and demands that took most of the stamina I had. Alone time had to be scheduled in and sometimes took a back seat.

Now, I find in retirement that I still have to purpose in my heart to have some alone time. Dale and I have worked to get to this point in life. After adjustment we have grown into a rhythm of being together. We enjoy our time now. When one of us have time away we miss one another.

So today, as he is gone from the house I returned to a day like my Thursdays in Nagai. I read my Bible, I have had a prayer time and in the background is music that I listened to so many years ago. What prompted me in these thoughts was hearing the song from Psalm 5. Like all music can take you to places and smells and memories, I was transported to my living room in 1978.

“Give ear to my words, O Lord, Consider my meditation.  Give heed to the voice of my cry, My King and my God, For to You I will pray.  My voice You shall hear in the morning, O Lord; In the morning I will direct it to You,
And I will look up.” Psalm 5:1-3 (NKJV)

My Little Town

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“In my little town I grew up believing God keeps his eye on us all
And He used to lean upon me As I pledged allegiance to the wall
Lord, I recall My little town …. Everything’s the same Back in my little town Nothing but the dead and dying Back in my little town” Simon and Garfunkel

Years ago I wrote a piece called, Home of Quaker State, Pennzoil and Me, a post that I wrote late at night and it took only minutes to write. It turned out to be a very popular post to my surprise.

I had thought to rework it and repost, but after reading it once more, I knew it did not need any changes.

I grew up in Oil City, Pennsylvania. It was my home for nineteen years. I married three weeks before my twentieth birthday. I never thought I would leave, I never really wanted to.

In it’s prime, Oil City was a bustling city filled with oil refineries, steel mills and businesses. The downtown area provided many stores to shop and browse. There were lunch counters in many of the stores. Lemonblend was served at Thrift drugs, Woolworths had the best hot fudge sundaes, Kressges had cheap sub sandwiches they were just around a dollar, if I remember correctly.

At one point the world wide oil prices were set in our little town. Former mansions of the oil barons still stand today.

It was a wonderful place to grow up. Children were given roots and wings. Most of my generation left town. As we grew jobs became scarce. I was one of the migrating generation. Pennzoil left for Texas in the 60’s. Quaker State was there much longer, but eventually left for Texas also. When we lived in Japan, Dale and I would head to the auto section of the exchange to pick up a can of oil. Not to buy it, but to look at the label and see, ‘Refined in Oil City, PA’. We held home, we held our heritage.

As the years passed the refineries closed. Steel mills followed. The downtown died leaving empty buildings with no care. Yet the river still flowed through the town, and Oil Creek still meets up with the river.

A remnant still remains. They are faithful, consistent, strong. I used to think that only the old people stayed, it turns out those old people are those I went to school with.

We visit, not as often as we have in the past. Anyone who we are related to are now in other cities or their bones are resting in the cemeteries.

Yes, this is all bleak. But, looking below the surface of the tiredness of the town are memories. Echoes of laughter spill out from the old playgrounds and the park. The place where I held a boys hand for the first time still is there. The place of my first kiss is right by the coffee shop.

We drive through town, knowing which lane to get into, knowing what street connects with another, recognizing destinations that were once places where we went in high school. I can look anywhere and people and experiences flood my mind. It is familiar, it is my hometown.

I would not change anything. I know had I stayed there, had we not married, had Dale not joined the Navy, everything would be different. But the Lord. How many times have I said this. My life was created by God. He gave me to my parents and to my sisters. There was a divine purpose in me.

The love of my hometown, gave me a respect for anywhere I have lived since. I grew roots. I was established in the roads and places in Oil City. I grew into who I am today. The memories serve to remind me of who and what I am. The legacy of those who came before me resonate in Oil City. The history defines me.

Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.” (NKJV) This is true for me, for you, and for that little town.

Memories

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Yesterday at church I had someone tell me they were enjoying my blog, especially the posts about Japan. I hear that about Japan often. I am always thrilled when people like what I am posting, it is so encouraging to me.

On the way home from church I mentioned to Dale the comment made. In my mind I traveled back to our time in Japan and tried to remember more details. What I found in our Navy travels is although each duty station was new and full of unexplored things, after about six months, it just became home. Our lives were similar to what they are now, cooking, cleaning, laundry and trips to the grocery store.

We lived in three homes in Japan. Our final move was our permanent quarters. The housing area was one we waited for. It was Nagai Navy Housing. Set up on a plateau, it was a converted WW II, Japanese airstrip. There were two wide roads in this area and at the end of one of the roads , where we lived was the curved part of the runway. I often wondered what it was like during the war and how many planes took off and how many did not return. Growing up as a daughter of someone who served in WW II, my view of Japan was a bit altered. They were the enemy. Initially, I was not thrilled to be assigned there. All I could remember was geography classes that talked about the way the Japanese farmed. I didn’t pay much attention then, as I truly thought I would never leave my birthplace. I figured anything I learned in geography did not pertain to NW Pennsylvania, so therefore it didn’t pertain to me. Little did I know then.

Where our little duplex was situated was at the end of the one of the roads. We were the only house there. A fire department was a few feet away from our neighbors side of the duplex. On our side was a small commissary which was convenient. In front of our house was a large grassy area. It was quiet.

The front of our little home with our little green Datsun.

As I looked for photos today, I realized with time and a terrible photographer, (me) the pictures look ancient.

It was a typical occupation style home. The bathroom had a dip in the center of the room, the shower was stainless steel, as was the toilet. Whenever I scrubbed the bathroom, water would pool in the dip and I would end up sopping it up with a towel.

The view though, was incredible. Our Japanese neighbors were farmers and daily I would see them carrying things across their shoulders as they went from home to the fields, which was rice in the winter and watermelon in the summer. Our neighborhood adjacent to the housing area was nice.

The field on the other side of our home, a work truck and the neighborhood.

The best part of our view was Mt. Fuji. Opening up the curtains each morning was a glorious view of this mountain. Majestic in all seasons, clouded in the summer months and with snow on top in the fall and winter.

taken from a finger lake at the base of Mt. Fuji

I never expected to have such an adventure in my life. It was only for three years, but those years held so much for me. As I looked upon this sacred mountain, as it is referred to, I would often hear this scripture “I will lift up my eyes to the hills— From whence comes my help?  My help comes from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth.” Psalm 121:1-2 (NKJV)

This view would bring me peace and assurance. I looked at this when I was homesick for family, friends and familiarity, I would begin to remember as my dear Dale has said so often. God cuts the orders, Uncle Sam just pays for them. We were there for a season and a purpose and a lifetime of memories. We left a country we loved and the people we loved when we flew back to the states in 1979.

Confidence

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“Some trust in chariots, and some in horses; But we will remember the name of the Lord our God.” Psalm 20:7 (NKJV)

Safety and security are two of the basic needs in life. When you feel safe and secure you rest easy.

Growing up our doors were only locked at night, I think. As a child I didn’t pay attention to that. I know my Dad would get a glass of water before heading to bed and he would blow his nose as only Dads can. You know that loud almost sounding like a horn honking . I do remember that.

After the death of my Mom, my sisters and I grew up quickly. Yes, we were still kids, but we had a side of us that took on more responsibility. A couple years after our Mom passing, our Dad had a job as a specialty salesman for U.S. steel (the Oilwell supply in Oil City, PA). This job required him to travel overnight, sometimes being gone for more than one night. He talked with us and we knew we were responsible for getting up on time for school and getting to bed on time.

Before leaving on his first trip, he bought a dead bolt lock to put on our door. I remember watching as he put the lock in place. It was a heavy lock, probably more secure than the door. We lived in a very quiet, small neighborhood, and everyone was aware of our situation. It was safe, but my Dad wanted the security of the dead bolt.

Through the years we have lived in areas that weren’t the best. Japan was very safe in all three houses we lived in. San Diego was not the case. But, the Lord safeguarded us. There were nights when Dale was deployed that safety and security alluded me. I felt alone and uneasy.

Through this all, our Lord has remained faithful. He has been the guard at the door, He has been the presence on our property.

When we look at the world, listen to the news, watch events unraveling around us it is hard to retain peace within.

The scripture above, some trust in chariots, and some in horses, to me that is depending on the world to keep us safe. The world can only do so much. The ending of the above scripture is what I attempt to remember, I will remember the name of the Lord my God. My God is my security. He knows my fears, my doubts, my concerns, my worries. He speaks to me in a still voice, “Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” John 14:27 (NKJV)

Provision

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“What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered.  So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.” Matthew 10:29-31 (NLT)

There is a part of me that has always worried about finances or lack thereof. I am much better now, but I confess in the shadowy recesses of my brain is a darkness lurking and maliciously whispering to me, but, what if…

It is these thoughts that come to parade through my brain in the middle of the night. It is fear. Fear comes in many shapes and ways in people’s lives. Each of us have a fear.

I have battled fear my whole life. It has been an unwelcome companion. I recognize him now. He has been evicted, but like an unwelcome visitor he will try to sneak in. Sometimes he tries to barge in.

It was suggested once to quote scripture against attacks like this. At first that was difficult, but now it has become a way of life.

Fear? “For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7 (NLT)

Needs? “And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:19 (NLT)

Loneliness, Abandonment? “And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:20b (NLT)

In 1994 Dale was medically retired from the Navy. We had two weeks to prepare for this new stage of our life. We were not set for this. It was a shock to us. We had been comfortable in what we were doing. We had wanted to stay in the Navy for thirty years. We had made our plans. God had other plans. I wrote in my journal asking for provision. I wrote the following, ” But, most of all, let our focus remain on You, what You want to accomplish and work out in us. For if we get ahead of You or insist on our way, or will, then we will have missed everything. For to move, to live outside Your perfect will is to be without a true life. I only want Your will to be done, and Your peace to reside in our hearts and home.” I continued writing, but you get the gist of what was in my heart.

That season was the beginning of a lesson on trust. Did I learn it right away? I would love to say yes, but, as I have written before, I want to be open and honest. Trust grows through many circumstances, some can be good, but, in my case, trust is like playing hide and seek in the fog at night while in a forest. I learned it in fits and starts.

Through the past twenty eight years I have learned that our God provides. He provides security when illness strikes. He provides comfort when dear ones move on to heaven. He provides food when the pantry is empty. He provides friends when you feel desolate and alone. He provides family when you need a conversation with sisters. He provides. Always. Every time.

I need not fear, worry, or become distraught, for He is there. Yes, I do often have to remind myself of this. Each reminder, though, strengthens my faith to believe that He does provide.

Grateful

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“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched — they must be felt with the heart.” — Helen Keller

We lived in San Diego for twenty eight years. I have a circle of dear friends there that make my world bright and safe. I made most of those friends in my late twenties and thirties. They came into my life and took root in my heart. They have challenged me and honestly, they are responsible for the person I grew into. They are my heart.

I also have a group of friends that are my military friends. Although all of us are now way past that time of life, having been out of the Navy longer then we were in. This group was family when families were not close for any of us. We all shared experiences that were unique to each duty station we were assigned. We recognized the need to establish friendships and become family. Otherwise we would have been alone and in need of companionship and support. These friends wrote letters, no internet in those days. These friends prayed for each other, and longed for hugs in situations where we knew they would recognize.

In 2009 Dale and I moved to South Carolina. We drove across the country with a trailer and our dog and each other. Excited for a new adventure, we knew this was most likely our last great adventure. The closer we drove to Charleston the more I fretted about making friends. I was in my late 50’s and I didn’t know if I remembered how to make friends.

I once wrote about the girl scout song, ‘make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.’ I mentioned that the friends from the military and San Diego fell into the gold section. I also realized that the friends I made in Charleston would one day fall into gold status, which they are now firmly fastened.

Seven years ago we moved to the upstate of South Carolina. Once more I wondered if I would have any friends. I should have learned my lesson by this time. Daily I am grateful for friends. I now realize that I no longer have friends in the silver category. Friends are a precious gift from God. A person who will talk with you, share with you, pray with you and be still beside you is such a blessing from our Creator. Friends are golden. Their worth is more precious than gold.

Thank you to my friends. You make my life complete and whole. You give me laughter in times of tears, you encourage me to move when I am sitting in the dirt, stuck in mud. You kick my behind when I am being stupid. You reflect Jesus to me in love, grace and exhortation. I am grateful.

Mother’s Day

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“She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.  When she speaks, her words are wise, and she gives instructions with kindness.  She carefully watches everything in her household and suffers nothing from laziness. Her children stand and bless her.  Her husband praises her: “There are many virtuous and capable women in the world, but you surpass them all!”  Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last; but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised.” Proverbs 31:25-30

This scripture certainly does not describe me. Maybe the first line, but I am still trying to figure out how someone can be all five verses. I guess that will be just one of the questions I will ask when I get to heaven.

Today is Mother’s Day. After having a busy week with my daughter I told her that I was thinking of using several posts on Mother’s Day from my original blog. I did rework one. I only reworked one because I didn’t have many posts about Mother’s Day.

It’s a weird day for me. It has been for the past 56 years. In school if there were Mother’s Day projects I would be allowed to draw anything I wanted to. I would stare at the projects and be reminded that I didn’t have anyone to give it to. So, the day became an uncomfortable day for me.

When I became a mother, it was still a weird day. I never wanted to go out for a special dinner because the prices are raised in honor of Mom. I try each year to have a better attitude, but I confess I am pretty jaded about it.

When I think of my daughters being mothers, it’s a different story. Pride wells up in me. They are both wonderful mothers. I can see all five of the above verses in them. I ponder where they learned this. My words to them after they turned 11 was, “I am just winging it now. If you make it to 17, then I will count it a victory.” They grew into beautiful women in spite of me, so I know that was God.

Distilling the day down, though, Mothers should receive honor and praise daily. They deal with kids who don’t want to get up, don’t want to eat, don’t want to go to school, don’t like the way socks fit. They deal with a lot of don’ts. They deal with all the emotions. My youngest would say, ‘so many emotions, so little time’. Mothers are the ones kids want for skinned knees, skinned hearts, tummy aches hiding a fear of something in school. Mothers do not get paid, no one could afford their worth. It is a thankless job. It is an exhausting job. It’s a job that is taken for granted. One day to honor them is not enough.

So for those mothers reading, thank you for being who you are. For those who just have a mother, remember her, or call her.

Today I will go to church and will most likely be asked if I want to go out. I will hesitate, and wait for the day to be over. I love mothers and motherhood, but honestly, I dislike this day.

Transparency

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“You can only take others as far as you have been.” Dale A. Dudas

Often after I write (or teach or speak) I have people come up to me and remark how transparent I can be. It’s true, unfortunately, at times what you see is what you get.

The quote above I heard on April 18, 1978 a year after accepting the Lord as my Savior. The brother who was instrumental in leading us to the Lord came over to wish us a happy spiritual birthday. He walked into our little duplex in Nagai, Japan and asked us what a baby does on his first birthday. Being a childless couple at the time, we just looked blankly at him. He simply said, they walk. It should have been obvious to us. Those two words were an admonition to us to walk in our faith. He followed with the above quote. At the time, I didn’t grasp the weight of the comment but have since learned what was meant.

What you go through in life can be difficult, challenging, burdensome. As we learn lessons through our experiences, we are also glimpsing how we can utilize our lessons to benefit others.

One of the first things I remember hearing from the Lord is this, if you cannot be honest and open to people you can see, how can you be open and honest to Me, who you can’t see? Since hearing this, it has been my life goal to be open to others. I don’t always have success. But I am learning.

Being open does make you vulnerable. Oftentimes I mentally question myself as to why I said what I did. There are nights where I am tempted to delete a scheduled post. Sometimes I feel like that nightmare of walking down the hall of your high school naked has come true. I want to find the nearest closet and just close myself in.

However, I have been called to be open and honest. I have this desire to be myself. Being an introvert, this is difficult. But God… God has put this ache deep within me. Sitting down to write I have hesitancy, I cower by the keyboard. By the end of a post, the words reflecting back to me are from God. If I could say it myself, there would be pride. Proofing the posts often finds me in tears as I read my heart, the words that hide behind my personality, words I have hidden in myself.

We can only take people as far as we have gone. That saying is with me always. I look back on my life. A life filled with depression, heartache, loneliness and fear. Lord, let me reach a heart for You. Let my words be only Your words. Use me Lord. Use me in spite of me.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline”. 2 Timothy 1:7 (NLT)