Psalm 118:13

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I was right on the cliff-edge, ready to fall, when God grabbed and held me. Psalms 118:13 (MSG)

This verse appears right under the name of my blog. I chose it as it has applied to my life many times and in plenty circumstances.

I have wanted to write about the incidents where I was grabbed and held by the Lord. There are specific times and I remember each clearly. These are the times when you know that you know you are being held by the One who formed you. You can feel His arms wrapped tightly around you and tears flow without hesitation.

I falter when it comes to writing specifically about these situations since they are deeply ingrained in me. I do not want to sound like I am longing for sympathy or recognition but I do desire to be open and honest in my writing. My motive is to allow people to see in my words what I have experienced and how present our Lord has been in each situation.

Psalm 118:14-16 says ” God’s my strength, he’s also my song, and now he’s my salvation. Hear the shouts, hear the triumph songs in the camp of the saved? “The hand of God has turned the tide! The hand of God is raised in victory! The hand of God has turned the tide!” (MSG)

Every event in my life God has been there. He was there growing up, He was beside me as I mourned my Mother, and then years later, my Father. He has been there in sickness, struggle and good days. I will attempt in my future posts to start to talk about how much the Lord has turned the tide in my life. Today, look, remember and realize how the Lord has been victorious in your life.

Vine and Branches

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“Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches.” John 15:5a (NLT)

Today Dale and I finished cutting down the row of trees that separated our driveway from the back yard. The trees were fascinating to us when we moved into this home. They produced lovely flowers that attracted bees and were full of pollen.

At first, we did not know what the trees were, and shortly after moving in we found out that they were Rose of Sharon. That made us happy, as we feel the Lord directed us to this home and has blessed us with this home. One of the names of our Lord is Rose of Sharon.

Our love for the Rose of Sharon has greatly diminished over the years. It is an example of how the Lord should be in our lives, our Lord being an integral part of our lives whatever we are doing. The tree however makes certain it is an integral part of our yard. If there is a square inch of space the tree will grow there. No matter where we look on our property, Rose of Sharon are there.

This grouping though had honeysuckle vines throughout, which gave it a heavenly scent and we loved that. It filled the air with sweetness.

The past couple of days Dale has been cutting the trees and branches down and I have been hauling them to our wood pile. This has been interesting to me.

John 15:5 is one of Dale’s favorite scriptures. He will quote it often and I love hearing him talk about it. The image I get when I think of this verse is of a grapevine. Jesus is the main stock of the vine and we are the branches that go out from the center. I have never had another image of it, until today.

As I have mentioned we have been cutting and the honeysuckle is in the midst of the trees. We noticed yesterday that although the branches and the trunk were cut down we could not pull them free of the honeysuckle. This morning it was more of the same. Dale had to cut the vine loose before the branches could be moved.

I thought about the vines as I dragged the limbs up the driveway to the wood debris pile. I leaned down to pick up one more branch and noticed that the vine was like a rope, three cords wound together on the branch. As I picked up the branch I heard, “I am the Vine”.

The picture I next thought of was what I had seen happen. Dale would cut the branch, but it would be held up by the vine. What I interpreted from this is, when we have been grafted into the Vine, our Lord holds us tight. He wraps us up in Him. When satan tries to cut us away, cause us to shift our focus, we may be distanced from our roots, but our Savior is holding us tight. Keeping us wrapped in Him. The Vine giving us stability.

The rest of the above verse is followed by more illustrations. John 15:5-8 in the Message says, ““I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you’re joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can’t produce a thing. Anyone who separates from me is deadwood, gathered up and thrown on the bonfire. But if you make yourselves at home with me and my words are at home in you, you can be sure that whatever you ask will be listened to and acted upon. This is how my Father shows who he is—when you produce grapes, when you mature as my disciples.”

After my morning lesson, I have continued to think about what I heard, saw and experienced. I hope that, like those branches now on the woodpile, I will cling to the Vine, having my Savior wrapped around me, helping keep me in His perfect will. I will lean into the Vine and make my abode with Him.

No Regrets

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My mind has been scattered this afternoon. I sit here at my desk and ask the Lord what I should write. I do this each time I sit to write a post on my blog. To the right of me on the desktop are books, varied in interest. My desk is in our guest room so the books are there for whoever stays long enough to sit and read.

My thoughts are cluttered as I think about some conversations I have had, to what to take to the church potluck on Sunday, to wondering how our granddaughter is doing with her broken wrist. Like they say, women have spaghetti for brains, one thought touches another, touches another.

To the left of me on my desk are my journals. I go to them for ideas and memories many times.

Today I picked up one from 1993. I read an entry from November 8th. My Dad passed away suddenly on November 6th, 1993. The entry described the events leading up to Dad’s death, describing my last conversation with him. At the time, I felt it was important to chronicle this. I am so glad that I did. At the end of the passage I wrote the following, “I have no regrets”.

Family relationships are complicated. Even though my sisters and I were raised in the same house by the same father, we are each unique. We sometimes don’t understand one another, we can still squabble at times. But, there is a bond deeper than we can understand. It is the bond of family. We are knit together by something none of us can explain. The same holds true to our Dad. Each of us can see things so differently about him. We can remember things differently.

I knew at the time of my Dad’s death that there would come a time when I would question that last conversation with him. I would wonder if I had said enough, had I said too much or too little. I knew that regret may follow maybe not immediately, but time afterwards. That is why I wrote no regrets.

I have read that part of my journal many times. Sometimes they are just words. Today they hit me almost 29 years later. Again, I think it is that unexplained thread that holds families together.

My sisters and I each live in a different state. When we were little we thought that we would live close to one another, maybe next door or at least a block or two away. We have each settled miles from one another. We don’t see each other often. We talk, but not every day or even weekly. But, that bond. The bond that keeps us connected, keeps us together.

Father, I thank You today for my sisters. Thank You for the shared experiences and those that we went through alone. Father, I ask that You rain down blessing upon blessings for my sisters. May they find comfort, solace, courage and strength today. Keep them in the fold of Your arms. Thank you for placing our family together, You have had a plan and a purpose for all of us, let us live without regrets. Amen.

The Gate of Hell

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“That is the way it will be at the end of the world. The angels will come and separate the wicked people from the righteous,  throwing the wicked into the fiery furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Matthew 13:49-50 (NLT)

We live in upstate South Carolina. We moved here seven years ago from the coast of South Carolina. We moved for several reasons, but one of them is that I could not live in sauna like conditions. The humidity is a bit lower here, and it is a little cooler here, they say.

Today it reached the gate of hell degrees. At least that is my definition. Can it get hotter? Oh yes, and so does hell the farther in you go, at least I imagine it does.

I really dislike hot weather. I have always said that I would be content with Nanuke in the frozen north. I have no idea who Nanuke is, but I think I would be happy being his neighbor. My husband spent a lot of his Navy career on the equator. To him, 90 is a nice comfortable day. Meanwhile I am gasping for air.

Each year we go through this. He says it’s a beautiful day and I grumble at the heat. Of course, I am also married to the man who sees everything with a positive eye. He loves a good thunderstorm (so do I), he loves a blizzard (oh, that’s the best) and he loves a hot summer day (there we disagree).

Not too much spiritual about today’s post. We just came in from working out in the yard. My brain is toasted without the chocolate and graham crackers, and I just inhaled a bowl of watermelon.

I have said for years that the Lord allows me to experience heat so that I will know without a doubt how miserable I would be in hell. Hot weather keeps my focus on our Lord and walking uprightly. I just would like a cool breeze to flow through.

Falling

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This morning we had some tree work done in our yard. We had a large limb that stretched over our roof. We also had a long limb that stretched across the driveway and could possibly hit our car if it fell.

For years we have talked about cutting these branches. Each time Dale would talk about doing it, I would cringe and try to change the subject. The limbs were high, twisted and dangerous. Ladders and Dale are not compatible. We know this from experience.

So, this morning a tree company came and took down the offending branches. It was interesting seeing them work. I took some before and during and after pictures. I have posted them on my facebook page.

Dale wondered if I had a story in this morning’s activity. I really didn’t. I just wanted documentation of the change.

As they were working on the branch above the roof I would glance out to see a part of the big branch come floating down from above. The limb had several branches coming off of it.

I tried to take a picture of the branches floating down, landing in a quiet thud, but I couldn’t capture them. As the perimeter of the branch was cut away, pieces of the branch would hit the ground with a solid thud.

As I gazed out the window at the activity while trying to capture a falling branch, I felt the Lord say to me, “See how quickly they fall? ” I knew He wasn’t talking just about a tree.

The phrase falling from grace came to me. Most of the definitions of this is to lose favor in one’s sight.

The thought of sin also came to mind. How quickly we can allow sin to be in our lives. We may think our sin is like those leafy branches that quickly floated through the air and landing with a gentle thud on the grass. The reality of all sin, though, is it falls quickly upon us and I think the solid thud I talked about before is what it’s like. That solid thud that we feel under our feet. That solid thud that makes our Lord sigh.

It’s not that we are turned away from God, but we have allowed a distance to come between our Creator and ourselves. God does not move from us, but we can swiftly and solidly create a gulf between us.

This wasn’t exactly the thought I initially looked for in today’s activities, but it is one that hit my heart.

Hebrews 3:15 says, “Remember what it says: “Today when you hear his voice,
don’t harden your hearts as Israel did when they rebelled.” (NLT)

I try to be cognizant of sin in my life. There is a huge part of me that always wants to please. When I falter or fail the Lord or others I am genuinely dismayed. I replay scenarios and examine what I did and how. I then will fall on my face in prayer asking for forgiveness. I needed to see the difference in the falling branches today, it was a lesson that has stirred my heart.

Ode to Housework

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“My theory on housework is, if the item doesn’t multiply, smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one else cares. Why should you?”
― Erma Bombeck

I have a schedule that I try to keep. Monday, laundry and towels, Tuesday bedding, blankets and ironing from Monday, Wednesday, groan that the laundry basket is beginning to fill, Thursday debate at doing more laundry, Friday try to remember that it could be a date night, Saturday make certain there are clean clothes for church, Sunday I take off, after all it is the Lord’s day. I also eat what I want on that day, blessed are the calories.

In between all of those laundry days I clean bathrooms, look at the kitchen floor (who in their right mind ever put white linoleum in a kitchen?) , vacuum, and look some more at the kitchen floor.

I try to keep a clean house, but I am one of those that does the company shuffle. You know, when company comes you pick everything off the kitchen table and countertops and hide it. That way people think you have an immaculate house.

I confess I do love to wash windows and clean bathrooms. You see instant results and that is rewarding. Today, as I was cleaning the bathroom I found myself full of questions. Questions like, why? Why am I so thrilled with a sparkling mirror when I know it will soon be splattered with toothpaste? Why remove soap scum when it’s just going to reappear? Why clean the toilet when you know what will happen.

The kitchen floor is the bane of my existence. If you look hard at it after cleaning it, you will actually see dirt appear immediately. I groan at the thought of scrubbing it when I know it will be dirty by time I put my wash pan away.

These are the thoughts of this housewife. I have had them for almost 50 years, more if you count the time as kids when we had to clean the house.

I am not complaining, really I am not. For in the mundane tasks the Lord is there speaking to me. I have learned lessons while cleaning the toilet bowl. He is in the details.

How often when I goof up, when I sin, when I veer off a path, does the Lord say to me, why? He doesn’t, I just threw that in. He doesn’t because of Calvary. I believe He does shake His head like I shake mine in redoing the cleaning. But, when I turn to Him and ask forgiveness, He sees that sparkling reflection.

Yes, I try to learn lessons in everything. God created the minutest details on this earth. The ants, the little piece of dirt that gets between your toes while wearing sandals, the thorns in roses, the gnats, the black flies. The things that can irritate. But He also created the lightening bugs, the rainbows, the sunsets and the soft spring grass. I believe God is in the mundane, the boring and the glorious.

I am grateful to be able to complete the boring jobs. I am glad I have things to clean and take care of. God is in all the details of our life. “Everything was created through him; nothing—not one thing!— came into being without him.” John 1:3 (MSG)

As I finish this post, I will once more go back to the mundane. The clothes are laying on the couch and the ironing board is up and it is calling to me. I know as I iron I will once more think how God has removed my wrinkles and in Him, I am fresh and clean.

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)

Popcorn Kernel Lesson

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“So the Lord said, “If you have faith as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be pulled up by the roots and be planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you. ” Luke 17:6 (NKJV)

Friday evening Dale treated me to a date dinner. We had heard about a Japanese restaurant in the area that we hadn’t heard of before. We love Japanese food and having lived there for three years, we can be critical of taste and presentation. It is hard to find good Japanese food, and this was the case on Friday. The presentation was hopeful, but the taste just wasn’t authentic to us.

We came home after dinner to binge a show we have been watching. Before settling in I suggested popcorn. We ate our portions and watched a couple of episodes and retired for the night.

This morning I awoke to realize that I had a popcorn kernel stuck in my tooth. My flossing and brushing last night merely pushed it deeper between my gum and tooth. It was excruciating, as stuck popcorn kernels tend to be.

I tried flossing and brushing a couple more times to no avail. I knew that kernel must be at least eight inches in diameter. Finally, the brushing helped dislodge the culprit. I saw it on my toothbrush and removed it. It wasn’t even a milometer. I commented to Dale that something that little could cause so much discomfort.

Immediately, I thought of the scripture about the mustard seed, the one above and Matthew 17:20, “You don’t have enough faith,” Jesus told them. “I tell you the truth, if you had faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it would move. Nothing would be impossible.” (NLT)

As I thought about the scripture I felt like the Lord said to me, faith as a mustard seed can move mountains, and sin as small as this can cause me pain.

I have kept thinking about this today. Instruction on sin early on a Saturday morning which has left me in awe of a lesson from popcorn.