Category: Memories

Psalm 139

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I recently wrote about this psalm. It is a favorite of mine, although I truly didn’t understand it’s impact on me until a few years ago.

I have struggled most of my adult life with fear and insecurity. For people who know me, they do not believe I am an introvert. People can wear me out. After a few hours in a crowd I see faces and see mouths moving and it’s like I am in a tunnel where everything is echoing. Before retirement, Dale would have galas to attend and of course, I would be with him. I would usually spend the day preparing to go. Not fussing with makeup or hair, but talking to myself. I would give pep talks trying to boost my self-confidence. These were pointless, as I would have a melt down on the way to the event. My poor husband.

I would like to say that now, I can walk into a group of strangers and be perfectly fine. I can’t.

If I am teaching or speaking, I can do that just fine. That’s how I know it’s the Lord. I love speaking to groups of women. I love ministering to them. I am strong and bold and confident. Again, that is the Lord working in spite of me.

A few years ago, during a sleepless night, the Lord had me get up and read Psalm 139. As I was in the process of starting to write a Bible study, I thought it might be a good place to start. It was my favorite study of all. This psalm talks about who we are and how we were created. Our God formed our inward parts when there was not one day yet. He spoke into us the best of our parents and grandparents. Look at old family photos. Look closely and you will see yourself in some ways in them. We may have an aunt’s nose, your mother’s eyes, your uncle’s height. Or like me, you may have your father’s uni-brow. We are a compilation of our family. The Lord knit within us our sense of humor, our intelligence, our way of being us.

Our God knows us intimately well. He sings over us daily, songs of love. He knows when we lay down and when we rise. Our thoughts are before Him. We cannot escape His presence.

If we are that important to our Creator, who are we to question how we look, what we weigh, how we talk? We are His masterpiece.

“You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.” Psalm 139:16 (NLT)

Where are you looking?

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The other day Dale and I went into town. On the way in, he looked out his window and said, “The sky is going gray again, the clouds are back.” Meanwhile, from the passenger side of the window I was looking at a pasture where cows were lazily munching on grass and enjoying the day under a bright blue sky dotted with wispy white clouds.

I looked out the other side of the car and commented that it truly does depend where you are looking. I further informed him that from my view it was a beautiful spring day. We laughed and agreed, that a day is defined depending on your view.

The same is true in life. Often I have viewed my life, my circumstances as gray, cloudy, lifeless and hopeless. In those times, taking a step forward was a chore. Breathing was a burden and seeing any light at the end of the tunnel was impossible. I lived like that for several years.

Finally one day, I opened up my drapes in my living room in San Diego and truly looked out at the world. Granted, it wasn’t a spectacular view, our yard in need of actually grass, instead of the few springs of grass between the rocks in the ground. The back yard view was much better. Looking past the freeway, in the distance was the Coronado Bay bridge. It’s blue paint shimmering in the sunlight. The water of the bay glistening in the sunlight. The sun and the beautiful fluffy clouds that dot the skyline. I breathed deeply and I felt relief after a long season of clouds.

Gray clouds are not always a meteorological condition. Clouds in our lives can come from nowhere. They are just there. It’s not always easy to open the curtains of our mind and see a new day full of hope. Not easy, but it can be possible. ” Jesus looked at them intently and said, “Humanly speaking, it is impossible. But with God everything is possible.” Matthew 19:26 (NLT)

“The Word gave life to everything that was created,  and his life brought light to everyone.” John 1:4 (NLT) “Because of God’s tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us” Luke 1:78 (NLT)

The Zipper

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I was going into the fifth grade in the fall. I remember sitting at the kitchen table talking with my Dad. Our conversation was about an upcoming trip to Conneaut Lake Park. It was the first time I remember going to a park. We talked about the Blue Streak, a wooden roller coaster, and I decided I was going to love that ride. I did.

I love going to amusement parks, the higher and the faster the ride, the better. However, I dated a young man who wasn’t as keen on fast rides at the time. We went on a date to the Rocky Grove Fireman’s Fair, held in a neighboring city. We walked around and rode some tame rides, holding hands and being young and in love. Then, I saw a ride, The Zipper and suggested riding it. My life could have turned out entirely different, had my husband said no. He didn’t and it was one of his first wild ride. He hated it! He still talks about his dislike of that wonderful ride. (I guess I could say that ride is symbolic of our relationship, fun, wild and unexpected)

I thought of that ride last night. I knew I would write about it. I asked the Lord how that would relate to Him and this blog. Of course, I heard how it relates.

Our lives and this world are like that amusement park ride. We are rotating in a pattern and individually we are contained in our lives. Our lives continue like the earth, rotating yearly. But, during that year, we are spun around. Sometimes we feel like we are falling forward and we brace ourselves for what we see may happen. Other times we are twisted backward where the world seems topsy-turvy and we have no idea how to brace ourselves. We feel out of control. Unable to focus clearly, being held at bay and not able to escape. We may scream, we may laugh, but we know, like being in that ride, that it’s not over until it’s done.

Standing in a line at an amusement park you look at the ride you are waiting for. I confess that there have been a few that I look and question my sanity. There are some rides I look knowing how much fun it is going to be. That is how I often look at this life the Lord has given me. I can panic, I can scream for things to be over, and I can look at situations knowing the joy that will come from it.

Our God never leaves us. Isaiah 46:4 promises, “I will be your God throughout your lifetime— until your hair is white with age.
I made you, and I will care for you. I will carry you along and save you.” (NLT)

Sensei

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As a little girl I thought I would like to teach. Actually, I wanted to be a nun for many years . Obviously, that didn’t happen. Instead, I married a sailor and roamed around the world.

In 1977 we lived in Yokohama, Japan, a seaport city south of Tokyo. We lived in government quarters that were built during the occupation after WWII. Across the street from our home was the building that housed a department of the Army, actually a department of the U.S. Army Calvary, the veterinarians who served the community caring for the pets of the military personnel. They also inspected the food coming into the commissaries on the bases. I was hired on as a receptionist for the days the vets worked with the animals. I loved that job, my bosses were great fun and I loved seeing the animals, and yes, we did end up adopting a dog through my work.

Later that year, and in addition to working with the Army, I was honored to have a job as a teacher. I taught in a private school in Kita Kamakura . The school operated in the evenings. I taught on Thursday and Friday evenings and once a month on Saturdays. It was a fascinating time.

Shoes were not permitted in the classroom, so the teachers had their own area to remove their shoes and put on the slippers to move around the classes. On cold and rainy days the secretary of the school would meet me with a cup of hot tea. Always welcome after a train ride.

I had an interpreter who would translate what I said to the students. When the kids arrived in the classroom they would bow deeply and greet me as Sensei (teacher). I would then read out of a reader and the kids would repeat after me. Although the nights were long, I so enjoyed seeing the kids. I taught a couple of my classes how to write in cursive and sing American songs. I always left with a smile of my face.

I learned so much from those times in the classroom. First that Japanese children were the same as I was as a student. The girls would play the hand-clapping games and sing song to them. They would play cat’s cradle. The boys would fold paper and play football. It was a typical classroom. I still have pictures from my students that they drew one night the interpreter was not able to make it and I wasn’t able to convey what to do. If I arrived a minute late, there would be a caricature of me on the blackboard.

I often think of my students and wonder what they are doing. They all have grown, and have families. I still carry them in my heart. They helped to make me who I am today.

I tend to think that the joy I had watching them in class is similar to the joy the Lord has in watching us. I assume that God tends to shake His head at me consistently. I think He laughs often at me.

“The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever.” Psalm 121:8

Harajuku

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Memory is more than a dustbin of time, stuffed with yesterday’s trash. Rather, memory is a glorious grab bag of the past from which one can at leisure pluck bittersweet experiences of times gone by and relive them. ~Hal Boyle, 1971

Tonight while preparing dinner, I pulled out my trusty meat mallet. It has served me well, in pounding meat, and I have used the smooth sides as a hammer. This evening it prompted sweet memories.

In the spring of 1978 I had a day out with a women who worked with my husband. We knew each other, not really well, but well enough to go on an outing together.

Part of living in Japan was going to various cities to see shrines. As a Christian, that sounds counter-productive, but these places were surrounded by beautiful gardens and architecture.

We boarded a train headed towards Tokyo. We got off in Shibuya at the Harajuku station. Coming down the steps there was a statue of a dog. It wasn’t until much later that I realized that the dog was pretty famous. The statue was Hachi, a loyal akita to his master.

We turned to the right of the station and headed toward the Meiji Shrine, a beautiful respite in a busy city. We each picked up a book about the shrine, mostly pictures and very little English.

We walked back through town. It had to have been one of the most fascinating places I have ever been to. We went through the shops, where I picked up my meat mallet and I am certain there were other things I bought.

We decided to stop at a street side cafe. We ordered a coffee and we both felt sophisticated. We felt sophisticated until our coffee arrived. That is the point where two small town girls showed their true colors. The coffee arrived in small cups. We had no idea that we had ordered espresso. Neither of us had seen or tasted it before. I am certain people were appalled at how much sugar and cream we managed to put into the espresso cups.

However, we did sip at our coffee and people watch. At that time Harajuku was a Diplomatic city where people from every nation lived. Sitting at the table on that street we heard so many languages. It was a glorious spring afternoon as we watched nations going by and marveled at the clothing and the accents. It was an impromptu fashion gathering of European countries, some American and of course the exquisite kimonos walking beside our little cafe table.

We boarded the train back to our homes, but we took a little side trip. We went to Kamakura to see the great Buddha. Honestly, I know I saw it, but, I was more excited about our next stop which was McDonald’s. Normally a stop to a fast food restaurant is not exciting. Most people would think that the great Buddha was much more exciting than McDonald’s, but to this young American who hadn’t had a big mac in over two years, McD’s took priority. The burger, fries and coke was over $35.00, but each bite was worth the cost.

I don’t know why that day came back so clearly to me this evening, but it did. Memories are like a scrap book in our mind. We can open it and look back and remember. I came from a small Pennsylvania city. I never thought I would see much outside the state. I was blessed, though to live in Japan for three years. I was blessed to experience the sights and sounds and smells. They are imprinted in my mind.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning. James 1:17 (NKJV)

Drought

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O God, You are my God; Early will I seek You;
My soul thirsts for You; My flesh longs for You
In a dry and thirsty land Where there is no water. Psalms 63:1 (NKJV)

I had read this scripture many times in my life and although I understood it, I didn’t really understand it until we lived in San Diego, CA. One year in particular, I remember the drought being very hard.

There had been no rain for several months that year. The grasses died, the ground was dusty. It is during these times that you realize that the area is mostly desert, although with all the yards and irrigation it is hard to see. This year was an exception. Watering had been stopped. Certain days of certain weeks you could water your lawn. The heat would cause rolling black outs. Running electrical things was limited for the evenings. So all laundry was done at night. Fires happened all around the county. It was a parched area that we lived in.

It was during this time that I reread the above verse. I prayed, like many that year, for rain. A nice soaking rain that would water not only the land, but would fill up the reservoirs and dams. I longed to see some soft, green grass.

In the course of praying I concluded that the land was not the only thing that was withered. Inside I screamed for refreshing and renewal. I needed a spiritual watering where I emerged restored. John 7:37-38 says, “On the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink.  He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.” (NKJV)

Thinking back on that time, I will never forget the feeling that came over me. The scriptures were brought alive to me. I had a visual of a dry and thirsty land and I could relate to the land. Often I return to that time and ask once more to be refreshed to be renewed, to be filled with the nourishing water for my thirsty soul.

Clay

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Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way! Thou art the Potter, I am the clay. Mold me and make me after Thy will, While I am waiting, yielded and still. ~ Adelaide A. Pollard © 1907

I recall in art class in my freshman year of high school, we had a course in pottery. We were each given a lump of clay. It was hard and not pliable. We spent a good week each in the class working the clay. It went from a brick to a mold-able mound. My hands ached throughout that week, yet it was an enjoyable experience.

Once the clay was ready to be shaped, our teacher gave us the option of using the potter’s wheel or making a free form object. I sat and watched a few students on the potter’s wheel. The clay would shift from the center causing a mis-formed object. Other times I would see the lump of clay go flying off the wheel, landing on the ground. It was upon seeing this that I decided to do a free formed project. The potter’s wheel intimidated me. I wanted no part of it.

2 “Go down to the potter’s shop, and I will speak to you there.” 3 So I did as he told me and found the potter working at his wheel. 4 But the jar he was making did not turn out as he had hoped, so he crushed it into a lump of clay again and started over. 5 Then the Lord gave me this message: 6 “O Israel, can I not do to you as this potter has done to his clay? As the clay is in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand.” Jeremiah 18:2-6 (NLT)

While getting to know and draw closer to the Lord in my early twenties, I began to understand the potter’s wheel and clay. Even more so after visiting the city of Mashiko in the Tochigi Prefecture. The city was three and half hours from where we lived by train. It is a city of artists and although the pictures show a thriving metropolitan area, when we visited over 40 years ago, it was a village with artisans working in cave like areas.

Each artist had their products available and it was fascinating to see them work the clay into beautiful objects. The way the clay was worked on the wheel with deft hands. They understood the medium they worked with. There was a kinship between the clay, and the potter.

“What sorrow awaits those who argue with their Creator.  Does a clay pot argue with its maker? Does the clay dispute with the one who shapes it, saying,     ‘Stop, you’re doing it wrong!’ Does the pot exclaim,     ‘How clumsy can you be?’ Isaiah 45:9 (NLT)

Our lives are being shaped and molded by the Master Potter, God. When we allow ourselves to be worked by our Creator, we will see a masterpiece in the making. He makes no mistakes, He who has created this world with it’s beauty is waiting to make a beautiful piece of art with us.

My vase from Mashiko

Pam’s Spaghetti

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And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near. Hebrews 10:25 (NLT)

We attended a group while in Japan. We were the Friday Night Fellowship and we met in the chapel of the base hospital. We were all young and enthusiastic about our love of Jesus. Yes, we were a bunch of Jesus freaks, after all, it was the 70’s. It seemed that everyone was freakish about something in the mid 70’s.

Our little fellowship tried once a month to meet in homes and we shared a community meal. We all took turns doing this. Those of us who didn’t live in government quarters squeezed everyone into the small Japanese apartments.

One Saturday we went to the home of friends. It was a small apartment and somehow about 20 of us fit into the place with spillover onto their little patio. Pam made spaghetti. Her sauce smelled wonderful and being young adults, we all arrived starving.

I remember making my way to the kitchen to see if I could help. What greeted me was a very frustrated Pam. Her blonde hair starting to curl because of the steam coming off the pans of boiling spaghetti. Her eyes told the story of her frustration. I went to her and looked into the pan of scalding water. There in the center of the pan was a big ball of spaghetti. No strands, just one big ball. The other pan held the same. Our eyes met and I half-believing said, “We can fix this”. Ahh! youth and inexperience.

We grabbed forks and for the next few minutes we separated the strands of pasta. Of course, the pans were much too small for the amount of pasta that was put in. That was one of the lessons learned that afternoon. But eventually we got enough strands to feed the crowd. Pam and I each had the remaining ball of pasta to cut our way through as we ate.

No one was the wiser of what our kitchen drama had been. They ate and were filled and happy. Lesson two of that day was, if no one is aware of the drama, they don’t think about it.

I confess that I have never made spaghetti since without thinking of that day. I don’t think I have had a ‘ball’ of spaghetti, but I have had strands stick together. I often ask the Lord what the parable of the ball was. What was the analogy?

I have had several thoughts about that ball of food. We can hold tightly to one another, keeping a hedge of protection around us. We can join forces to be a stronghold where we are a force to be reckoned with. We sometimes intertwine ourselves with others and we miss what the Lord has for us. We need a support system to keep us propped up.

There are several lessons we could learn from a ball of spaghetti. When I remember it, I think of the laughter from this woman. I think of the times we spent together, in Japan and in San Diego. We encouraged one another, we taught one another, we prayed for each other. We were bound like that ball of soaking pasta.

Ecclesiastes 4:12, “ A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken.” (NLT)