Category: Memories

A Child Who Needs Snuggles

Published on by marycatherinethomasLeave a comment

“2 And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven like a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. 3 I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. 4 He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” Revelation 21:2-4 (NLT)

I read this verse today and a couple of things came to my mind.

The first thought I had was me clinging onto God (at least the image I have in my mind). I was wrapped in His arms and breathing deeply. I was snug and secure and I knew if /when I am in that position, I truly will want to stay there forever.

That thought was followed by a second thought, a memory, actually. I remember being young and following my Mom around. I was so close to her that if she stopped, I would run into her, or I would get bumped on my forehead by her elbow. In the echoes of my mind, I could remember her saying to me, “For God’s sake, Cathi, give me some room.” Actually, I would hear her say this several times a day, and I was that clingy child.

Fast forward many years and I had a child that would follow closely to me. I remember bumping her forehead with my elbow. Immediately, I laughed. I knew the Lord had answered my Mother’s prayer of me having a child like myself. I loved the closeness of that child to me, how she would snuggle.

As is usual for me, my mind trailed off as I thought of all of this. For those who make God their Savior and Lord, He is the One we run to. The One we can follow closely. The One whom we can run into upon a sudden stop. He longs for us to be that clingy child. He wants us to climb into His lap for a snuggle so deep and long that our hearts calm, our tears are wiped away and we are comforted and at peace.

As we spend time with Him throughout our day, praying, reading or worshiping Him, we can experience those snuggles. But, I cannot wait to experience this fully. When He calls me home and I can run to Him, jump into Him like my grandchildren do when they see me. And finally and forever have my tears wiped away for good. What a perfect day that will be.

Women at the V.A.

Published on by marycatherinethomas4 Comments

Today I went with Dale for a couple appointments he had at the V.A.. It’s always an interesting time when we go.

Usually, I watch the veterans. Mostly men, older, although many young men are also there. I heard a few conversations between these men. One was talking about his Ranger training and as I turned to see who was talking, an older man limping down the hallway was doing the talking. To hear the stories and see the men is something that touches my heart deeply.

Today, though, my focus went to the wives. They accompanied their husbands. One who was waiting was deeply engrossed in a book. One led her husband up to the window and gently pushing him toward the window made a fairly loud comment to sign in there with a hand motion. She turned around and mouthed the words “He can’t hear a thing!” to others waiting for their turn in the audiology department. Others pointed directions, walked beside their spouse, gently holding onto hands and guiding their backs.

Yesterday was Memorial Day, a day to remember those who gave all in battle. The heroes that wrote checks to this country with their lives.

As I sat watching and thinking, it occurred to me what military spouses have given. In our youth we waited through deployments. We learned how to maintain vehicles, fix lawn mowers, fix wobbly doors. We were the ones to kill spiders, bugs, and chase off snakes. We were Mommy and Daddy. We kept moving through exhaustion and wrote letters at night that didn’t mention that part of life. We had to think of morale. Our deployed husbands didn’t need to hear of half a problem solved, they needed to know that things were under control. They needed to know the kids were well, the bills were paid, the car was running, the lawn was mowed. There was no e-mail. No video calls. No photos instantly sent.

The women at the V.A. today were in that group. We did without. We made do. We prayed for wisdom, we prayed for safety, we prayed for sanity. And today as I watched these incredible women, it occurred to me that we are still doing that. Supporting our men, watching them, waiting for them, being there. The toughest job in the military? The military spouse.

A Whole Bunch of Stupid

Published on by marycatherinethomasLeave a comment

“You will show me the way of life, granting me the joy of your presence and the pleasures of living with you forever.” Psalm 16:11 (NLT)

47 years ago today, my husband and I accepted Jesus as our Lord and Savior. The best decision we have ever made. Our lives were immediately changed for the positive. Old habits went to the side as we learned to walk in our new faith. Each year this day brings memories and reflections with it.

Yesterday I had an initial appointment for physical therapy. The therapist asked a bunch of questions about my aches and pains and why I thought I had them. She had me do some exercises and she felt my back to feel the differences in it.

She asked how I broke my back. I explained that 23 years ago I went sledding with my youngest daughter and her friend, they were both high school seniors at the time. We were all sharing a single round saucer and the run was great! That is, of course until I sped off one boulder covered in ice and slammed into a big boulder covered in ice. The result was a compression fracture of my lower back.

She then asked if I had had anything happen recently to cause my back to act up. The only thing I could think of was when I fell and broke my elbow two years ago. I explained the fall and how it was an epic fall, me flying through the air and landing with a thud. She was laughing along with me and asked about other injuries.

I mentioned that I had broken my other elbow years ago when I tripped over my pant-leg and fell into the street. I mentioned how Dale does not allow me to walk and chew gum anymore.

The appointment was filled with laughter as I sheepishly gave a litany of my “stupid” acts.

Today while I was driving into the store (it’s a good 20-30 minute drive), I was thinking about yesterday and also today. It occurred to me that at my age I have experienced a whole lot of stupid. A. Whole. Lot. Of. Stupid.

Each day we all do thoughtless things. Or, maybe it is just me. (Yikes!) Things like stubbing your toe on a piece of furniture that hasn’t moved in years. Using a wet potholder on a pan in the oven. Heat travels fast! Slicing yourself while slicing a vegetable. Just stupid little things that in the greater scheme of life don’t matter.

As I thought about all the stupid that I have experienced it occurred to me that through this all I have been protected by my Creator. We hear of guardian angels, well, I think I have gone through several. Psalm 91 talks of the protection the Lord gives us. He is my refuge, my shelter. He will rescue me from traps and disease. When I gave my life to Him, when I made Him my shelter, He will make certain no evil or plague will come near my home, He has given angels charge over me to hold me in their hands.

I have tried the Lord in all of this. I have smooshed angels as I fell on them (see examples above). Like any child I tend to do stupid things. Not disobedient, just thoughtless. If God the Father had gray hair, I would say a lot has come from me. Each time my stupidity comes to light, or to a thump, the Lord has been with me. He has comforted me, healed me and allowed the experiences to give me stories. Stories that make me laugh, make others laugh.

Life is full of wonderful adventures. For 47 years I have had joy, even on the hardest days. I have had hope during dark days. I have been loved by God even as He must be rolling His perfect eyes at my antics. This is just a preview of what I will experience when I can finally see Jesus face to face. When He hands me a saucer and suggests going sledding. (Will there be snow in Heaven?)

Life is filled with a whole lot of stupid, but it is also filled with joy, laughter, peace, hope, and above all love. 47 years ago the dread, the anger, the hopelessness of my young life left me. That is when the Creator of the universe took up residence in my heart, making me new and reborn.

A Short Story… Snippets and Memories

Published on by marycatherinethomas2 Comments

“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you;” Isaiah 66:13a

The pink acrylic alarm clock sat beside the bed she shared with her sister. It was her favorite with the edges around the face of the clock. She would sit and hold it, rubbing her fingers in the indentations.

She knew it was about to go off as she slowly moved from dreaming to wakefulness. In the background she could hear noise, she knew she must still be sleeping.

The alarm went off. Reaching for the clock, she felt someone pick it up to turn it off. Her older sister was gently setting it back down. She quietly said, “Just go back to sleep. There is no school today.” At this time, their youngest sister stirred and sat up.

Her older sister went to the top of the stairs and said, “Dad, they’re awake.”

The next few minutes were life altering. Confused, the girl sat up as their Dad said, “Mom died last night. You won’t be going to school this week.” Her younger sister started crying. I sat there, confused. I probably was crying, but I don’t remember. I do remember thinking it wasn’t a very funny joke to tell us.

As I sat there, the surroundings became clear. It was still a bit dark, it was fall. The lights from the kitchen seemed so bright. The voices, I wasn’t dreaming. I heard familiar voices of aunts and uncles. I had had a feeling that this day was approaching for the past month, although I never said anything. I was afraid to ask the question for fear that I might get the dreaded answer. That morning, reality slammed into our lives. Day One of not having a mother.

Life changed. That week we went to our Aunt’s house. We roamed around the house while she busied herself in the kitchen. We played with our cousin’s pom poms from high school. She was newly married and it all seemed so romantic to me. We gazed at our cousin’s basketball trophies. He was my favorite. He made me laugh.

We spent another day with another aunt. She let us make chocolate chip cookies. We didn’t add the salt to the recipe and she knew it right away. I never add salt now without thinking about her.

The funeral home was always packed. So many people leaning down to either pat our heads or shed a tear while we were there. We were bored. How many times can you nod your head while someone tells you they are sorry for your loss?

I was 11. That in between stage. I had teenage style of dresses, but could only wear ankle socks. It was humiliating to me. Classmates came into the funeral home. They would stand and stare, not sure what to do or say. I learned the art of small talk that week. I dislike small talk.

The day of the funeral was dark and drizzling. It was like being in a living dream. Motions happened, we went through them, behaving exactly like we were told. As we left, an older aunt lost her underwear and left them on the floor of the church. How bizarre that was and we still laugh about that.

The wake (we’re Irish) was a release for all who were there. Uncles handed us money, “Go to the store, get some ice cream for yourselves.” The neighborhood store must have done a record business as I recall getting back to the house only to have another uncle put money into a cousin’s hand with an order to go to the store and have fun.

Time moved at a snail’s pace but also it flew by. Family left and we girls learned to adjust. Some days in the beginning were okay, others not so good. My older sister was a rock, she guided and kept my younger sister and I moving. We three girls raised ourselves as best as we could. We are survivors.

I don’t know why this all came flooding back to me tonight, but I needed to write about it. The days of no Mother have been a lifetime. Snippets and memories sometimes rush in like a high tide. Other times the memories are still. Above all, though, I am grateful for my sisters. I am grateful for our Dad who was thrust into single parenthood in a time where wives did the bulk of raising the kids.

Life is interesting. Growing up it was normal for us. Normal is different for each person. God has a plan and a purpose for us. The snippets and memories have shaped me according to God’s plan for my life.

What is Your Garden Like?

Published on by marycatherinethomas2 Comments

“And when He had sent them away, He departed to the mountain to pray.” Mark 6:46 (NKJV)

Yesterday we sang the hymn “I Come to the Garden Alone”. I have sang this song for years. I have read cute stories of children asking who Andy is, and parents discovering that it is this hymn they are talking about, confusing the words, And He for Andy. “And He walks with me, and He talks with me, And He tells me I am His own;” Often when I hear this song, I think of that story.

I love gardens. When I think of a prayer garden I imagine a beautiful spot in the middle of a lush growing garden of flowers. There is either a bench in the middle or a swing. It is sweet and peaceful in my mind. Or the other scenario I think of a garden is the picture we have seen since we were little of the garden Jesus went to before his arrest. I see a spot with a large stone where you can lean upon and pray. Of course, in reality, this would not do for me. I would be hesitant to lean upon a rock not knowing if a snake of any sort would be sunning itself on it. Plus, kneeling on the ground where creepy crawlers could crawl up on you is not my thing.

In my reality I have no official garden. I sing the first stanza, “I come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses.” I love roses, but I have no roses. I can point to the places where I have attempted growing roses and then point to deer who have eaten my roses until they do not exist.

So, in truth, I have no actual garden. Or, so I thought.

Our worship leader yesterday paused before singing this song. She had been struggling with the meaning of the second verse, “I’d stay in the garden with Him Though the night around me be falling, But He bids me go; through the voice of woe His voice to me is calling.” She went on to describe how the voice of woe is not sadness, but like grandparents are sad to see their grandchildren depart, they know they will return, but tears are shed at their departure. Then as the grandchildren depart, the grandparents will stand in the doorway or driveway and wave to them.

As she spoke, this picture came to mind. This is Little Man when he was Little (he is now a young man). He was going back home and grabbed my hand and told me we needed to hide so he could stay with me. I picked him up and we walked outside. While we said our typical good byes that take almost as long as the visit, he snuggled in, determined not to leave. I can remember the tears in my eyes as he was held. I did not want him to go.

This is how our worship leader described how our Lord feels when we come to Him. I will never forget her words.

It was then that I realized I do have a garden. It is my driveway where I walk laps. It is the place of prayer. It is where, when I am having a tough day I go to even if I have already walked that day. It is where, when I walk out the door, I begin to talk with Jesus.

What does your garden look like?

Old Photos

Published on by marycatherinethomasLeave a comment

“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous— Psalm 139:13-14 (NLT)

Tomorrow I am starting to teach a Bible Study on God Knows… I am going to reference this scripture. First of all, anytime I teach, my mind goes to the future and I see myself in front of the Lord. We are seeing my life and He stops the reel when I am teaching. The scenario in my mind is, He stops the reel, looks at me and asks, “What were you thinking?” This is said incredulously .

I usually pray a lot during those times!

In preparation for tomorrow, I was looking through old pictures. I mean the old black and white with the curly edges on the photos.

I smiled at many of them and just stared at others. The ones I stared at were of myself. There are two options about my pictures of growing up.

1. I was a dorky kid.

2. My parents had a warped sense of humor in taking pictures.

Personally, I think it is a combination of both. My poses were either with my head tilted to such a degree that it looked like a random head resting on a shoulder. And, yes, I still tilt my head like that, although with age, it’s just a head tilt.

My other poses are just as random. Legs and feet firmly planted on the ground almost looking like a gorilla standing upright, making faces , eyes crossed and tongue out. Some, though, are attempts at being a girl with minor manners. How I ever got a date in high school is beyond me! Must have been the Lord.

I can be very critical of myself as I think most of us are. In the end, though, we need to remember that we were carefully and lovingly created by a God who loves us. He created us, dorkiness and all.

Looking through the photos today brought back memories, good and bad. I could smell the air in the background. I can remember the fun. Time continues on and snapshots of our life will come to us at different times. We will remember parents, uncles, aunts, siblings, cousins. Echoes of the past linger deep within us. Memories are a scrapbook of our lives.

Today I Saw a Crocus

Published on by marycatherinethomas4 Comments

“Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days.  The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring crocuses.” Isaiah 35:1 (NLT)

It has been a while since I last wrote. I have had some ideas for posts, but have not written, and as is usual, discouragement has begun to set in. 

January was a long, yet quick month for me. Our oldest had another surgery and Dale and I had the privilege to be with her family. Time flies by with a nine year old around. It was a wonderfully exhausting time spent with her. 

During our time there, Dale and I celebrated our 49th anniversary. We have spent three anniversaries in that area, our first, our 48th and our 49th. Obviously, it was a time of reflection for me. The city has changed drastically since we were first married, dirt roads are now paved busy highways. The sky scape is filled with homes, high rises, and buildings. 

Seeing the city’s growth reflected my thoughts on our marriage. When we lived in the Tidewater area, we had many rough and dirt roads in our life together. We also have seen growth together. Much of our life together has been filled with reconstruction, and paving of our ways. We have been torn down like the apartments we lived in 49 years ago. We have had to restart and renew and ask for forgiveness and give forgiveness. Our life is now like the gentrified areas of the town we started out in. We have been given a fresh start and have grown to welcome and be comfortable with each other. As I looked at Dale at our anniversary dinner, I saw glimpses of the young sailor I fell in love with, but, I also saw my life, my heart.

As February came and we arrived home, I knew that there was a feeling of something deep in me. Yes, I miss my daughter and her family. I miss the noise and activity of our granddaughter. But, there was something missing.

As I walked to get our mail, a spot of yellow caught my eye. Our crocuses are blooming. Out of the cold and dormant earth, these little flowers break through. A reminder that spring is right around the corner. A little hope in a drab and dreary winter landscape, pushing past the dead leaves surrounding them.

Writing is what gives me joy. When I don’t write discouragement happens. I know I am not the best writer in the world, but it is what feeds me in a way I don’t find elsewhere. It is where I hear my Savior’s voice and encouragement. It’s where I feel His presence. 

As I walked toward our mailbox, I prayed. So many thoughts rambled through my mind, so many prayers of gratitude for this past month echoed again as they have throughout January. God is good. He is faithful. Today, He gave me words to write and a tangible sign of hope and strength. There is nothing like seeing a crocus in the middle of winter. 

It’s been a year

Published on by marycatherinethomas3 Comments

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11 (NLT)

This morning I was reminded of this past year. It’s been a year, let’s leave it at that. A year of cancer diagnosis, surgeries, radiation, a broken toe (yes, that hurt more than my surgeries), possible diagnosis that don’t sound wonderful, a bout of bronchitis. 

I could choose to dwell on these things. It would be easy to do that. To think on the negative. To relive each thing. But, I will not do that. I serve a God who was in every day this past year. He is in today. He is already in tomorrow. 

In between all that happened in 2023, there was laughter. Hanging out with our grandson and his family was a highlight for Dale and I. That laughter, the smiles, the hugs, the playing all healed many areas that ached. Spending time with friends, traveling to new places, taking time for just the two of us, these all were bright spots for us. 

Each year holds a balance. The balance may tip one way or another any given year. Each year we approach a new year not knowing what that year will hold. The older I get the realization of uncertainty becomes greater. That uncertainty used to make me almost panicky. I now have an assurance that I will have experienced most of what the new year holds in some way or another.

Above all, I can say with a heart full of gratitude and peace, Merry Christmas! May your holiday be wonderful, filled with surprise and laughter and playfulness. May your heartaches be healed and joy be overflowing deep within you.

God is a great God, and He has 2024 in the palm of His hands. Nothing is going to escape His attention and care. 

Again, Merry Christmas.

Those We Grow Up With

Published on by marycatherinethomas4 Comments

“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.

I Think My Record Has a Scratch On It

Published on by marycatherinethomas2 Comments

“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.