Daddy Didn’t Spank Us…Ever!

Was it because we were never naughty?  No!

Was it because he didn’t believe in disciplining children? No!

Was knowing I had disappointed him or sparked his anger worse than a spanking? Yes!

But, why didn’t he ever spank?

Mom eventually explained it this way. Our daddy was very strong physically. He could lift heavy rocks, chop down big trees, brace a whole corncrib from collapsing or push a whole car out of a sinkhole.

Mom said he never wanted to spank us because he knew how strong he was and he didn’t trust his strength.  He was afraid he could hurt us so he decided to never take that risk. I’m glad my earthly father was strong and knew his strength needed to be guarded.

I’m even more glad that my Heavenly Father is both strong and gentle. These attributes coexist in Him and He is free to demonstrate them together.

A story that helps me remember this is the burning bush.  Years after the experience the memory is still clear to Moses as he blesses Joseph by asking for the favor of the one who indwelt the burning bush.

My recent witness of a burning house leaves me with deep respect for fire. Structures of metal, brick and stone are unrecognizable in the ashes from a fire. But God can stand in the middle of a burning bush and carry on a conversation.

As we listen to His voice of unyielding strength we hear him tenderly talking about the misery of his people. He hears our crying and is concerned about our suffering.

I am glad I have a Heavenly Father who is both tough and tender.  I need him to be both for me today.

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How Far Have I Fallen?

This sobering question is prompting me to review my spiritual story.

The speaker for our Senior Adult Fellowship yesterday challenged us with the words of the Angel to the church at Ephesus as recorded in Revelation 2. The disturbing verse for me is 5, “Do you have any idea how far you have fallen?” Our speaker invited us to think back to our first love affair with Jesus.

I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know Jesus personally. Our church did not have Sunday School until the child was 4 years old. I remember telling my mother I thought that was a long time to wait.

But the time when my faith was fanned into flame was Bible Camp. I was so in love with that week. I picked cucumbers for money for school supplies and Christmas presents, but everything had to wait until I had saved for camp.

At camp I could spend all day learning more about Jesus, talking to counselors and pastors, singing from my heart, standing around fires promising Jesus I would die for Him, going out in row boats under the stars and echoing the praise songs from the choir on the shore.

A few years ago I went back to the campgrounds, which had shrunk considerably since my childhood experience, and picked some small stones from the walking path that bordered the lake. It was there that I not only sang I had decided to follow Jesus but the things of earth became strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.

How far have I fallen?

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Face to Face

I combed my hair today before I tried to connect with my friend on FaceTime. This was important because FaceTime is a feature of an I- Pad that lets you see the person you are talking to. What’s more concerning to me is that it also let’s me see myself. It’s kind of like a living mirror.

I don’t think if someone had told me 60 years ago, when we had a party line and our phone number was 4F2211, I would have believed the advances that were coming. Our number, 4F2211, meant that when the wall phone rang 2 shorts and 2 longs someone was calling us. The phone was busy quite a lot because there were several combinations of rings on each line. There was also limited privacy as anyone could pick up at anytime. Our one neighbor had asthma so it was always easy to know when she was “listening in.” 

One ring would connect to the operator, a real person, who knew everything about everybody’s life and could be reached when there was an emergency or if we wanted to break into a conversation that was taking too long.

We did eventually get private lines. Then the phone number had an area code and seven numbers. We still had to be home to get the call, or call someone when we got home.

Answering machines came next. That way you could leave a message and the person could call you back.

Then came cell phones. These could ride in your pocket or purse. Anyone could call you at anytime if you had prepaid minutes left or a data plan. They could ring or buzz at your discretion.

Followed by smart phones. These keep your calendar, your emails, check the weather, get breaking news, and take pictures.

As if that isn’t enough, the FaceTime I-pad let’s you see who you are talking to. 

Does it work to trace this progression and apply it to intimacy in prayer?

Do we begin by learning corporate prayers that are somewhat rote and usually guarded?

Do we move to a more personal and private conversation with God but isolated to specific times?

Is the next phase one where prayer is an anytime all day conversation?

Am I wanting now to hear God’s voice and see His face, somehow like wanting to learn how to use FaceTime?

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Keepsakes

I don’t want so many things cluttering my house. I want just a few things so that it will look neat and it will be quicker to clean. The challenge is that everything I pick up to throw out or take to Goodwill tells me a story. I remember when I bought it at a special place or time. I remember who gave it to me and how special that person is to me.

There’s the wooden vase that was handmade with every grain of wood displayed to its greatest advantage. There’s the bronzed baby shoes of the man who has honored me with name of “mother.” There are the friendship cards written when our friendship was strong and intimate. We are still friends but now we are in a season when we don’t know the day-to-day details of each other’s joys and pains.

I asked my nephew if he would like the trunk from Norway that was my grandmother’s only possession when she was sent to America at age 16 because the bowl of potatoes was empty before it could make it around the table to all the kids.

I am determined to remove one small basket of things from our house every day.

Why is the field clover that is growing like a weed in a gifted plant from my farmer friend who died last year so hard to pull out?  I am treating the weed as precious.

I have been told that my blogs don’t invite responses because I complete the thought in what I write. I don’t’ think this is true of this one.

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Celebrating the Silver Lining

I made a phone call this week to a couple from our church fellowship. They are each 89 years old. The wife answered and said her husband, who is a retired physician, was at the hospital praying with patients. She said that his legs were bad so after he walks the equivalent of four blocks he would need to come home.

I mentioned I hadn’t seen them for a while and wanted to check in. She said they had so much to be thankful for but didn’t make it to church very often. I asked if I could renew their membership for them. She said, “Oh, yes, it is still our church. When we can’t get there we send our tithe in the mail.”

I asked if there was anything they needed. She responded that a couple from our church lived across the street and were very attentive. She did confess that she didn’t clean the way she did in the past but laughingly added that it didn’t really matter because neither one of  them see very well.

I reflected on the richness of this conversation, thanked God for the testimony of their story, hoped that this would be representative of my story and eventually conceded that I already look better in dim light.

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Deciding Where to Rest

Taaker

For some reason there was about a square foot of sunshine on our living room carpet today. The rest of the floor was shaded.  When I walked into the room, my cat had found the one sunny spot and was resting in it. My decision to take his picture prompted him to move. The best I could do to recreate the scene was to place him near the square of sunshine for the photo.  In this photo he now appears to be deciding where to rest.

Maybe this pose is more instructive to us anyway. What has to happen before we simply put our weight down in the only place of warmth and light our current story offers? Does it require contentment with what we have? Does it release responsibility for what we cannot change? Does it call me to be thankful for what I do have rather than expressing concern for what I do not have?

We have a sign in our garage entry that says, “If you want the best seat in the house, move the cat.”

Has the God who loves me chosen the best seat for me? I want to rest there today.

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I Couldn’t See Any Benefit to It!!!

During a conversation with a dear friend this afternoon she told me that their house, which has been on the market for sale or rent for quite some time, has been rented on a solid basis at a good price for at least two years.

I responded with, “That must take a big burden off your shoulders.”

She quickly said, “I haven’t really been carrying it as burden. I guess I couldn’t see any benefit to it.”

Recognizing I was in a teachable moment I stopped and asked, “Do you realize what you have just said?”

My friend laughed, knowing that I am one who knows our Lord daily carries our burdens, but that I am one who tends to keep my shoulder under it, as well.

It reminded me of the old story of a man walking alongside a county road with a heavy pack. A horse drawn wagon pulled alongside and offered him a ride. The man crawled up on the wagon and sat down with his pack still on his back. The driver encouraged him to set his pack down in the wagon.

“Oh, no,” replied the burdened man. “I couldn’t expect you to carry me and my pack, both.”

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How Do You Know If Something Is Dead?

I made a scavenger hunt for my “grandchildren” tonight. One is 5 and the other is 3. The challenge included something blue, something furry, something that swims, something you can see through, something dead….

“Besta”, they called my name, “How do you know if something is dead?”

We will know, I said, because when we find it we will see that there isn’t any life in it.

We couldn’t find anything in the house so we went outside. I quickly found a flowerpot with dry brown stalks. I explained to the girls that these flowers were dead because there was nothing green. I could have explained that there was no potential to grow but they were determined to find a dead animal.

After a futile effort to find a dead bird or even road kill they decided they would settle for a dead bug or a fly. Finally we found a scrap of flypaper in a basement windowsill with a few victims stuck to the square. We agreed not to touch it but to check off the list that we had found something dead.

We then decided to find something living. That was easier as the five year old quickly said, “We are living.” I asked her how long we would live. She said, “Well, I’m a Christian so I am going to heaven.”

I said, “Then you will never die.”

Her response, “Are you a Christian?”

 

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Polishing the Rear View Mirror

I sat in a prayer group this week led by a senior adult lady who is struggling with weakness. Some days it is hard for her to hold her head up. She walks into the building leaning on a walker on wheels and stops every few feet to catch her breath.

This leader went around the circle and asked each of us for our personal prayer requests.  When her turn came she said she was just so filled with joy and thanksgiving. She attributed this to learning that two members of our younger staff team were pregnant. It prompted memories for her of how she loved being pregnant and how thankful she was for the wonderful life she had been given.

What do you polish your rear view mirror with in order to see these memories even when your path today is difficult to navigate?

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What Is a BLOG?

By Shirlee Vandegrift

My God, My Friend,

You are the Maker of all things in Creation.  We give you the praise and glory for all of them; or most of them.  We cannot hold back our admiration and adoration and appreciation, nor should we.

I come before you at this time with a heart full of feelings I want to share with you;  feelings of wonderment and awe.  As a mature adult I have seen so many changes in the world in the past 50 years that I would be challenged to name even a few of them.  But now I have been given the opportunity to contribute to a BLOG and my first question is, “What Is a BLOG”?

Silverstrands, a place on the network , is a BLOG, where the pastor of Senior Adults in our church writes articles, and asks others to write articles, about the activities pertaining to our work and Yours.  You don’t need this prayer.  You don’t need me to tell you what a BLOG is.  You don’t need me to explain to you what we need or expect from our BLOG.  You are all knowing.

But oh my God, we need you to be in charge Silverstrands.

We need Your Spirit to bring forth writers who have your words waiting to be printed in the Silverstrands BLOG.  I would say I have little to offer but I have been privileged to contribute my thoughts and prayers more than once.  It is not me that puts my words down on paper.  Your words, the ones You have stored in my mind and heart for just the right moment are released when You determine.  I thank you for your timing and thank you for what you have given to me for others.

I pray for the other writers you have prepared as BLOG contributors to be freed of any constraints, either personal or not personal, and to publish your words for the purpose of advancing your kingdom. After all, that is what we are about; advancing your kingdom.

How are we doing?

In the name of Jesus we pray.

Amen

 

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