A couple years ago I went to a wonderful production of the play, The Hiding Place. As you may know, it tells the story of a family trying to hide Jews from the Nazis and the family’s later ordeals in concentration camps.
There was a line from the play that resonated with me:
The lightning of justice has already struck, and we are in the silence before the thunder. But if you listen carefully you can hear the distant rumble.
I can only imagine the horror of those days, and the great desire for justice. How hard the silent waiting must have been. What courage it took to believe that justice was coming. What faith it took to believe it was on the way.
Hope held them tight and got them through.
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This quote grabbed my attention because it reminded me of the crazy world we live in today. Wrong is being promoted as right, up seems down, and things are certainly in need of “the lightning of justice” to strike. Perhaps it has, I certainly hope so, and I feel the weight of the silence as we wait on the thunder to come. I’m listening carefully for that distant rumble.
What courage it takes to believe that justice is coming. What faith it takes to believe it is on the way.
Hope holds us tight and gets us through.
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Christians have Good Friday, and the glory of Easter Sunday, but the day in between has come to be known as “Silent Saturday.” A quiet, heartbreaking emptiness after Jesus’s death on the cross. The Sabbath must have been filled with shock, disbelief, and sorrow as His friends tried to understand the events that led to that moment. It was overwhelming to take in, and Jesus was gone.
What courage it must have taken to believe that justice was coming. What faith must have been needed to believe it was on the way.
Hope held them tight and got them through. Sure enough, Sunday came and Hallelujah! The Saviour returned.
We are definitely dog lovers and have dearly loved our furry family members over the years. Each one has brought us so much joy and companionship.
When our last dog, Maggie, died, we thought we would get another one “after a while.” But we had two grandsons born that year, and then we remodeled our kitchen, and so on. Things just kept happening and we thought, “Later. We will get another dog later…”
Well, we are still waiting for “later” to get here. But I haven’t yet given up hope.
Meanwhile I looked outside one day to find this familiar sight:
That’s our resident groundhog, who seeks shelter under our backyard shed. He is usually on the run – and he darts away quite quickly for a “heavyset” fellow.
“Maybe we already have a pet and we just don’t know it,” I told my husband. “Could be,” he replied.
Yet I’m still hoping for a friendlier, less timid, more snuggly pet (dog) one day. Later…
I grew up in a house that could be described as “rambling.” Built on a high bluff on the Cumberland River in Nashville, it began as a small “camp house,” and was “added on to” over the years. My parents built on or remodeled three times during their 30+ years there.
“Let’s add a dining room – with storage underneath.” “How about a walk-through area to connect the kitchen to the bedroom – we could make it a breakfast nook.” “If we finish out the garage, we can let Granddaddy live there.” Each section served its own purpose, wandering around, and there was not much intention to blend it all together. That is even more evident from the back of the house (which interestingly was on the road side, as the house faced the river):
Many people are comfortable with things that remind them of their early years, and so sprawling houses have always caught my eye. This home in my current town is one such house, although we did not try to buy it when it was for sale. “Too much work,” said my husband. I’m sure he was right. But it is irregular in a charming, historical, in-town-house kind of way!
Now we regularly pass another home that once again has caught my eye because it spreads out and creates character in a most beguiling way:
So much interesting detail! The view from another direction shows the pieces and parts working together, but also outstanding in their own ways:
I’m captivated by this roaming architecture. It isn’t for sale, but I looked it up online to see what its history was and when it last sold. Whoever owns it certainly had vision, as this is what it looked like when it sold in 2013:
From this to a true rambler. All I can say is, “Wow!”
Years ago (1985) it was announced that General Motors would build their Saturn automobile manufacturing plant in Spring Hill, Tennessee. The changes in that small community, as well as in surrounding towns, that resulted from that decision have been massive.
But to GM’s credit, they built the gigantic plant out of sight from the main road and painted it to blend in with the scenery and sky. The building was hardly noticeable to passers-by. Other ways that Saturn affected the area were very evident, but the factory itself “blended in” well.
Times change. General Motors shut down the Saturn company and all but idled the plant after its 2009 bankruptcy and government bailout. Numerous other uses have come and gone for the plant. Currently the Cadillac Lyriq EV is being built there.
What you do notice today is another large plant, this one being built near the GM plant, but right beside the road.
This battery plant does not “blend in” but is front and center to passers-by. And it is huge, extending farther back than one can even imagine.
The opening of this facility has been delayed for various reasons, or so they say. One has to wonder about the EV market in general. And I have heard that the company is having a hard time hiring enough employees to open the plant.
That’s also hard to imagine, because there are apartments everywhere now in the area. The land that used to be farm fields now looks like this:
When the coming of Saturn was announced years ago, there were people voicing pros and cons on both sides of the issue, although those voices ultimately did not matter. “Many people in the community who were in favor of the project have now turned against it after seeing the way GM operates,” said dairy equipment supplier John Campbell. “Farming’s a thing of the past in Spring Hill.” The town’s farm implement dealership closed, and the rapidly rising land prices seemed to affirm his conclusion.
Yes, it is a different world in many places, and Spring Hill, Tennessee is just one example of this.
“Goodness gracious, what in the world are you doing?”
“Oh, mercy, what can that be?”
Grace and mercy are words we use casually in our conversations. But do we really understand the depth of meaning in each of these words? We can always use an extra helping of both mercy and grace.
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We are thankful when we are shown MERCY.
Shouldn’t that make us more willing to show mercy to others?
mercy – not getting what is deserved
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GRACEis extended to us when we receive favor.
Shouldn’t that encourage us to be more gracious to others?
grace – getting more than what is deserved
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Sometimes these two gifts can seem to be in short supply in our world. But…
Usually, being early is a positive thing. But sometimes things can come prematurely, or be done over-anxiously, or arrive in an untimely manner. This is generally not so good.
My parents had a bridal wreath spirea in their back yard, and I was always fascinated by it as a child. Its limbs grow long and tend to overhang like a waterfall, and the blossoms are small clusters of white flowers that remind one of a bridal bouquet, hence the name.
We planted one at our former home and enjoyed the way it welcomed spring each year.
At our new/old home I was delighted to discover that the very large, mature bushes at the back corner of our property are indeed, bridal wreath spireas. Last winter we had that awful freeze that killed so many shrubs and plants. Thankfully these bushes survived, but they did not bloom last spring.
This past summer we trimmed them just a bit and removed the vines that had grown up into them over the years before we moved here. So I was all set for a beautiful display this spring. And I was delighted to find evidence that they indeed would be lovely this year. The clumps of tiny green buds held lots of promise.
Then along came Redbud Winter. The colorful blooms on the redbud trees are always accompanied by a cold snap that can damage tender growth. Alas, the low temperatures did indeed turn the promising green buds to a bruised, deathly color.
Still I go out each day just to see… will new buds form? Amazingly, today, I saw a few! Yet Dogwood Winter isn’t far off. It may end up a race to see what comes first.
Unfortunately, being early is not always a positive thing.
Recently we ran into some college friends that we had not seen in quite some time. Like us, they have aged, and honestly, to look at them you would think they are homebodies who probably don’t get out much.
So we felt comfortable telling them that we hardly ever go into Nashville, and when we do, we don’t like the traffic and the many things that have changed since we grew up there. Imagine our surprise to discover that they are frequent visitors, actually still do some jobs there, and often travel through the “big city” to visit family that live north of town.
It made us realize who the real homebodies in that group were.
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Yesterday I had a short visit with a friend who is contemplating retirement (and I highly recommended it). When he asked me if we travelled much, I answered “No” (in true homebody style). Somehow the subject of “big cities” came up, and so I confessed that I was a bit concerned about the state of the world and didn’t have any desire to go to a “big city.” Happily tending to my home and visiting our lake home was just fine with me.
Then he shared that he had once lived in New York for three years and met his wife there. She grew up on the 25th floor of an apartment building in the city, and her mother still lives in the same building today.
Oops! Once again I spoke too soon and too freely without understanding the other person’s perspective. So today I emailed him and said, in part,
I always enjoy talking with you. I laughed at myself all the way home yesterday. Here I am the little “country mouse,” talking about my fears of the big city to you. I had no idea you had lived there or that your wife had SO many connections there. I’m always impressed as I learn more about you and your experience, and now I know you are indeed a true “city mouse,” and I think that’s great!(As an aside, my husband and I got our Real ID licenses today and we do plan to travel – who knows, maybe back to NYC someday.)
I have always enjoyed the traveling we have done. Perhaps we have just gotten out of the habit. Or maybe I am just more of a homebody than I realized. Thankfully, I am very content to spend time at my Home Sweet Home.
My mother had one sister, my Aunt Rosie. Here they are at a young age, long before I knew either one of them:
We have a small family. These two girls married only children (my father and my uncle), they had only children (my cousin and myself), and those children married only children (my husband and my cousin’s husband). So Aunt Rosie has always been my only aunt. Even if there were many, she would always be my favorite, I’m sure. I’m thankful for the special bond we share.
My aunt is a woman of many talents. Her kitchen skills are amazing. Everything she cooks is delicious. And she knows what everyone’s favorites are and always fixes those dishes for them. She is an accomplished seamstress who has made clothes and altered outfits to fit better and mended rips and tears for so many years. (Attention family – she is tired of mending!) Her handwork is exquisite – she has made quilts, cross stitch pieces, small useful bags with ribbon closures, doll clothes, and even birdseed-stuffed frogs! And this only scrapes the surfaces of her many gifts.
Aunt Rosie and Uncle Larry lived all around the US as he traveled with his work. It was always special at Thanksgiving for them to be “home.” When they retired they moved back to Tennessee, and then we always traveled to their home for Thanksgiving, the reverse of them coming to us for so many years.
When my mother (and later that same year my father) passed away in 2003, Aunt Rosie took me under her wing and became like a mother to me.
She has always been there for me, and we have enjoyed our “like-mindedness” on many subjects. Aunt Rosie has loved our children, also, and has always kept up with their activities and now their families.
Aunt Rosie turned 100 years old last September! Here she is surrounded by our grandchildren:
She has never really been a replacement for my mother, but in trying to find a good word to describe what she is to me, I knew that “substitute,” “proxy,” “stand-in,” and/or “alternative” were not the right words either.
Thus the title – “blessing.” That is what my Aunt Rosie is to me.
Not just in the warm weather we have experienced, but in the actual astronomical date – this year it’s March 19. Some accounts say it is because of 2024 being a leap year.
It doesn’t really matter to me because the first day of Spring, in my mind and heart, will always be March 20. And that’s because it is my mother’s birthday. Just as Spring brings new life, color, and warmth to the world, my mother brought that to me – and to those who knew her as well.
Here she is (on the right) back in 1985 giving my grandmother (seated) her 90th birthday cake. (That is her sister with them – she is a story for another day.)
My mother was smart, hardworking, talented, stylish, and entertaining. She was a perfect mother to her only child (me) – an encourager with high expectations and so much love. She passed away 21 years ago, but what I always tell friends who have recently lost their mothers is so true: “She will always be with you in so very many ways.” I have inherited some genetic tendencies, but mostly I remember her words, her giving spirit, and her hugs.
She was a fun and uplifting grandmother, too. When our children would stay with her for the weekend, we often said we had to “de-program” them after their time at “Camp Meemom.” She loved them dearly in every way.
Many people knew my mother as a milliner who made beautiful custom hats. Even when hats fell out of style, my mother always wore one to church and certain other social functions. Here’s a glimpse of an amusing Spring photo from MANY years ago:
Yes, c’est moi with my mother.
Mama, I love you and I miss you and I always will. Even though I don’t have many of your hats and I don’t wear what I have, I am glad hats are part of your legacy. And I definitely feel this way:
St. Patrick’s Day has always held an interest for me. The thoughts of leprechauns, rainbows ending with pots of gold, and lucky charms make me smile. Even though I know they are all make-believe. Well, for the most part, anyway.
My fourth graders used to have fun making leprechauns as an art project. This one was the class model, and a student aptly named it “Tater Tot.”
He looks grumpy because he got caught. But he never gave us his pot of gold.
I am always learning something new about Ireland – factual, at least for the most part. My friend in Chicago told me she likes to wear orange on St. Patrick’s Day – “just to be different and to remind them of the Protestants.” Sure enough, the orange in the Irish flag does represent Protestants. The green of course is for the Catholics, and the white in the middle represents the desired peace between the two groups.
Here are a few more interesting facts about the Emerald Isle:
There are around 30,000 castles in Ireland. (Blarney and Bunratty are two of the best known. Many are in ruins now. Several are now hotels, like Ashford and Dromoland.)
Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way is the longest coastal driving route in the world. (It’s 2,500 kilometers long.)
Halloween originated in Ireland. (It was their “New Year’s Eve” celebration, “All Hallows’ Eve,” as the new year began on November 1.)
The shamrock is not the national symbol. (The Gaelic harp is.)
St. Patrick was not Irish. (He was born in Britain, captured and taken as a slave to Ireland, escaped and went back to Britain, and returned later in his life as a missionary to Ireland.)
Such a rich culture and heritage, shared with the world, from such a small island!
Yesterday I wrote about living in our own “bubbles.”
While that is easy to do, consciously or not, is that always the best place to be? Sometimes, yes. Giving care to those in need, parenting children, managing a demanding project, working on healing – these are all times and situations where focus is required.
Yet sometimes, we must look beyond. That can be terrifying. It requires courage beyond what we ourselves have.
I believe that you and I Are in the right place, at the right time God called us by name And He doesn’t make mistakes I know we were born to shine bright In a dark world that needed some light Don’t have to be afraid Maybe we were made for these days
“These Days” are an interesting time, that’s for sure. I want to be “in the right place at the right time” and I hope to fill that space (in or out of my “bubble”) in the way I was meant to do.
At Book Club we had a short discussion about being aware of the world (and its problems) vs. living “in a bubble.”
The youngest member of our group emailed me afterward and said, in part, “…the stories we’re living are important in more ways than we may ever know. And sometimes I feel like I’m in my own little bubble while there is so much happening in our world. But maybe me living my life will help the world in a way I won’t understand until I’m face to face with God one day. (After I ask Him about teething, haha.)”
She has so much insight for someone so young (for someone of any age, actually), and I deeply appreciated her continuing this discussion. So I wrote back, in part:
Yes, the “stories we are living” (love that phrase!) are so important. And true, we probably will never know the full impact. But it is our calling to live them fully! We are all contributing to the world each day, in one way or another. I pray my own contributions are positive.
Whether we are “in a bubble” or trying to stay more aware of the world around us, we live our best lives when we make the space around us a better place.
And aren’t we all in our own bubbles? Some may be bigger than others, but our own unique spheres of influence are the places where we can make a difference.
When I was working and raising our children, I hope I was doing my best. I do know I was so busy with those demands that the world outside that “bubble” was beyond my thoughts and my understanding most of the time. Actually I was pretty unaware. But I believe I was doing what I was called to do at the time.
In the past few years (since COVID) so many “understandings” have manifested themselves to me. I now have time to read and ponder and discuss. Many things have been disturbing and troubling. Was I better off not knowing?
I don’t think so. While I’ve come to the point where I don’t dwell on these negatives (which I had to do to “keep going”), I do think it’s important to at least be aware.
And guess what? I’m still in my bubble. I’m more aware of things outside it, but I can only make a difference in the closer spaces where I dwell.
Oh, the much maligned Bradford Pear tree and its kin. No one seems to like them any more.
Once upon a time, these trees were the toast of the town. Everyone loved them. Communities embraced them and planted them along sidewalks and in medians. Homeowners lined their driveways and even their property boundaries with these blooming, perfectly shaped trees.
Then… the truth came out. Their limbs were not strong and often broke in storms. Also, their root systems were not deep and they were prone to toppling over. Their blossoms (actually the berries they produce) can stink – like fish.
No longer the darling of the landscaping world, many of these trees have been removed. One local community that planted them everywhere and even had a spring Pear Festival has removed all traces of them. The Nashville Tree Conservation Corps has even issued a plea on their website to get rid of those that remain.
But…
For a brief moment each Spring, these trees remind us of why we loved them in the first place. Often some of the earliest signs of life returning to the waking world, their white flowers precede their leaves, and they dot the countryside with cloudlike beauty. Being easy to spread, sometimes entire fields are full of their glory.
These that are at the end of the driveway of the home across from our subdivision entrance are especially lovely, I think:
All this beauty won’t last long. Many trees are already “turning green,” as the flower petals are falling and the leaves are budding out. Nothing gold can stay, (or in this case, nothing white can stay) as Robert Frost reminded us about spring, including these lines from his poem:
Third graders can do some pretty amazing things these days!
Our oldest grandchild, Madison, has finished her “Living History Museum” project. Just in time for Spring Break!
The teachers compiled a long list of people who have made significant contributions to our world both past and present. Students listed their top five choices and the matches were made.
Madison was assigned Joni Eareckson Tada for her project. Joni (pronounced “Johnny”) is a beautiful Christian influence – according to her website she is an American evangelical Christian author, radio host, artist, and founder of Joni and Friends, an organization “accelerating Christian ministry in the disability community.“
Madison began her project with lots of reading and research about Joni. Along the way, she painted a portrait of her, chose a Bible verse that applied to her life, thought up a question that could be answered by using a QR code to go to a website, put together a presentation board of the information she had gathered, and wrote a speech to give at the “museum” on Living History Day.
Not enjoying the spotlight, shy Madison was nervous about this from day one. Her mother helped her put her project pieces together and also gave her the encouragement she needed to know that she would do a fantastic job.
And she did!
On the day of the presentation, the third grade students were situated in the gym at six foot tables arranged in rows for visitors to walk up and down and see the hard work and talent that went into these projects. Round One consisted of other grades coming in to listen to the presentations, and then Round Two was when family and friends came for the grand finale.
We couldn’t have been more proud of the work Madison did or more thankful for the sweet spirit with which she presented the story of this remarkable woman.
I have always pronounced Joni’s married name, Tada, as “TAH-duh,”, but Madison insisted it was “tah-DAH,” as in well-done. And why not? Joni has overcome such odds to be a role model and positive influence on countless people, not just the disabled, including Madison.
“tah-DAH!” indeed!
Sweet Madison borrowed the school wheelchair and wore a blonde wig to be “Joni Eareckson Tada”
Our littlest Little is Liza, whose name comes from her mom and dad’s sisters – Lauren and Elizabeth – because their parents met through their sisters being friends. How sweet is that!
She’s growing so fast, though. For so long she was “the baby,” but now she seems very grown up.
It’s so fun to hear her talk. She held back her language for a little while, but now she is catching up. She has a lot to say!
Liza has always had sweet curls, which as you know can go away as one grows older and the hair gets longer. (That was the case for her dad, our son.) But hers are still there and so delightful. Sometimes they have a mind of their own, just as she does.
She still loves to put up her hands for you to pick her up, which melts your heart, of course. And she loves to read books, or have you read to her. She’s very sweet with her baby dolls (until something else catches her attention and she drops it on the floor to check out the new thing).
She’s been taking a dance class this year – we can’t wait for her recital in May. She’s the smallest in the class, so she has several models to follow, but I do wonder….
There’s never a dull moment with Liza. Nowadays she always seems to have her own agenda. After all there is a lot to do when you are two, going on fifteen!
We were with our 6 year old grandson after school the other day and he wanted to put a new Lego together.
I had seen these – Lego Technic. They have MANY pieces. Our son told us that Grayson loves putting them together but he does need help. Just someone to keep him on course. I asked my husband if he was up for the challenge, and Pops said yes.
So they got to work. Grayson had obviously done this before as he asked for bowls to put the pieces in when we opened the “three bags full.” There were TWO instruction booklets (“constructions” in Grayson speak), so he opened #1 and started looking for the pieces on the first page.
Here was my view from across the table:
As I listened to their conversation, I heard things like:
“Can you find a piece that looks like this?” (Pops)
“We need two of these.” (Grayson) “No we don’t.” (Pops) “Oh wait, yes we do.” (Pops)
“Turn the book and look at this just like you see it in the book – so you add that piece here.” (Pops) “Well, maybe it DOES go over there.” (Pops)
“I think this might be upside down.” (Grayson)
I would like to know how the conversation goes when our son works with him on Legos. It is a big, complicated project, for sure. But from watching Grayson, I could see both patience and expertise. Good job, Buddy. Glad we didn’t get in your way.
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