Marital Longevity

I woke up this morning thinking about all of the couples we know who have had marital longevity.  Specifically, I was listing off those we knew as young people prior to marriage, who have built enduring marriages that are obviously still characterized by commitment and genuine affection.

Some of this retrospect is probably related to having attended three fifty-year reunions during 2015.  At my fifty year nursing school reunion, I realized at one meal, that I had been the soloist at the wedding of everyone seated at our table.  Two couple were married 50 years ago, one 49 years ago, and Bill and I 47 years ago.  I can easily list off more than 10 couples of our acquaintance, whom we knew as singles, watched the courtship/dating years of some of them from close range, and were present at their weddings.  Decades have passed and these folks are still in love in spite of all that life has thrown at them.

The common factor in these relationships is that prior to marriage these people as individuals had a commitment to putting a relationship with God first in their lives.  They entered into relationships with their potential spouses prayerfully.  When they married, they did so truly believing that they could accomplish more for the Kingdom of God together than the sum of what they could do alone.

I understand that there are other approaches that result in marital longevity.  There are couples who come together selfishly and with no thought of God in their life, who manage to cling together without Him.  There are those who start out disastrously, who later find their unity within the context of a commitment to Christ.  But, this morning as I awakened, I thanked God specifically for those who by a miracle of His grace started out on the right path and have never swerved.  All have demonstrated a life of service.  Some are or have been missionaries or pastors.  Some have been life-long faithful church members.  Most have raised children with great love and care.  All are still looking for ways to serve the cause of Christ. 

All are still in love.  Something for which I am thankful.

Sonya or Johnnie....who cares?

Seriously, doesn’t the media have anything better to do than to worry about whether Ben Carson’s mother’s name is Sonya or Johnnie?  How ridiculous.

When I met a new family in our neighborhood years ago, I was amused to learn that only one person in the family of four went by his/her real name.  At some point, three of them decided they didn’t like their names and began going by something else.  The mother whose name was Sarah had gone through a hippie phase as a young woman and taken the name Heather.  I’m not sure of the reasons for the other three, but they all thought it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

In my own family, my father’s name was a great source of confusion.  He was told that his name was Charles Frederick and during his young life went by C. Frederick with the nickname of Fritz.  When he entered the Army during World War II, he was informed that he could not go by a first initial and middle name.  They changed his name to Charles F.  His friends then began to call him Charlie.  When he retired decades later, he was required to submit a copy of his birth certificate to obtain his pension.  He had never seen it.  He sent for a copy and was stunned to discover that his name was actually Frederick Charles.  He then began to use Frederick C. on documents.

After Dad died, when I tried to settle his affairs, I had to submit to the court a notarized affidavit describing why he had documents under the names Frederick C., Charles F. and C. Frederick.  Fortunately, no relevant documents used Fritz or Charlie.

Imagine my brother’s confusion, thinking he was Charles F. Jr. most of his life, and discovering there was actually no Charles F. Sr. 

No matter….he has gone his whole life by Bud.

November 2, 1952

November 2, 1952 was probably the most significant day in my life.  I was only seven years old, but I had been troubled for weeks by the growing realization that I was not capable of meeting my own standard of “goodness.”  I knew that I didn’t always obey my mother, that I told lies, and that I sometimes harassed my younger brother.  My conscience was troubling me, and I had recently learned at my church that these things were called “sin.”

I had also learned that Jesus died for my sin, and that I could invite Him into my life to wipe out that sin and make me “new.”  Several nights when I lay awake before going to sleep, I pondered my misdeeds of the day and prayed that Jesus would come into my heart.  I was disappointed when I got up in the morning and was the same rotten kid as the day before.  I expected to be immediately angelic, and it didn’t happen.

About this time, our church had invited an evangelist to speak.  I have no idea what he said, and I was put off by his style of presentation.  He didn’t just pound the pulpit, he actually jumped up on the front pew and shouted.  However, when he gave the invitation to accept Christ by coming forward, I responded.  I knew someone would help me figure this out.

An older lady in the church took me downstairs to a quiet place and opened her Bible.  She read me verses that explained again that “all had sinned” and that the penalty for this is “death”….i.e. separation from God.  She told me again that Jesus died to save me from my sins and the consequences.  I wasn’t so much thinking about escaping hell, I wanted help right then to get rid of the weight of my bad behavior.  I followed her as she led me in a prayer AND it happened.  What had seemed like a physical weight was lifted from my shoulders.  Equally important, she helped me understand that I would not automatically be perfect.  I would still stumble and fail.  But now, I had Jesus to help me in my every day conduct.  Each day, I could ask for and receive help.

My life changed that day.  I have no idea what course my life would have taken without that decision.  Years later, my Mother told me that she noticed a change, that my acceptance of Christ had obviously been genuine and life-altering.  I recognize within myself the potential for going some very wrong directions.  I am not saying that I have lived a life above reproach.  I am sure there are days that I have not specifically sought out God’s leading for that day, but the overwhelming majority of the time, I have kept my mind and heart open to hear His voice and have not consciously rejected His plans for me.

This keeps me from wasting too much time over “what-ifs” and “if-onlys.” In retrospect, even some incidents that were horrible and painful at the time led to new and positive experiences.  I look back with deep gratitude over 70 years of life and 63 years of trusting God’s plan.

Today is November 2, 2015….my special day for remembering and celebrating.

The Donkey of Balaam

Stupid jackass!

Clumsy donkey!

Lazy beast!

I am summoned by a king!

You embarrass me.

You crush my foot.

You thwart me.

I am summoned by a king!

I am Balaam,

Prophet, seer,

Wise among men

And summoned by a king!

But the donkey spoke:

I am your humble servant

Your loyal mount,

Even today, at this hour,

I am caring for you,

Protecting you,

For, I see His angel,

Hear His voice,

Obey His commands.

I too am summoned by a King!

(See Numbers 22)

My Brain is a Night-time Hoarder

I am not a hoarder….well, not for the most part.  My house is neat and tidy with the exception of some junk drawers and the top surface of my desk.  My computer desk top is not even particularly cluttered…not nearly so much as my actual physical desk.

My brain…that is a whole different matter…at least at night when I am trying to sleep.  During the day, I can keep my thoughts compartmentalized.  I do not allow myself to be concerned about one thing while I am working on another.  I can defer “worrying” about something until it is really time to consider it, but neither am I a procrastinator.  Thought fragments are in designated storage places waiting to be pulled out at the appropriate time...I do not view when I am trying to sleep as the appropriate time.  But, once I am horizontal and my eyes are closed…then!

Then, out they tumble like scraps of quilt fabric, unfinished knitting, half written stories, letters I must write, bills I must pay, left-overs in the refrigerator that need to be discarded, dirty laundry, clues to the unfinished crossword puzzle, and a myriad of other debris.  The disjointed mess pours out on the floors of my brain until I am slogging knee-deep in the confusing jumble.  I just want to power down my mind and sink into oblivion, but sometimes I spend the night trying to cram the disorder and chaos back into cupboards with doors that latch.

Fortunately, this does not happen every night.  When it does, I toss and turn, feeling overwhelmed and inadequate for the task of restoring some semblance of order.

So this morning, I am tired and disgusted with my brain’s hoarding habit.  I need a broom and some large trash bags and also….a nap.

Sorting Through the Numbers

The Book of Numbers in the Old Testament can be pretty boring and tedious.  For example, in chapter 7, the leaders of each of the twelve tribes bring offerings on the occasion of the tabernacle’s dedication.  Each of the 12 brings an offering identical to all the others, but instead of just naming the leaders and then saying, “each leader brought….” followed by the description, every leader individually is mentioned with every specific of his offering being spelled out.  This means the detail in Numbers 7:13-17 is repeated word for word eleven more times.  I confess to not reading it over and over.

I also confess to being enough of a math geek that in Numbers 4:34-38, when it mentions the number of men in the Kohathite, Gershonite and Merarite clans and then gives the total, I checked the addition.

It is very tempting when reading through the Bible to skip Numbers and some of the other Old Testament books.  The problem is that there are some interesting nuggets amongst the not so interesting minutia.

For example, the entire sixth chapter relates to Nazirite vows…a special vow of separation to the Lord.  Intriguing to me is the fact that either a male or female can make this vow, and there is no difference recorded in the way in which the vow is kept….even though there is head shaving involved.  I like the fact that God accepts male and female devotion equally.  The whole gender issue is a problem of fallen man.  God does not value one over another.

Also, I wouldn’t want to miss Numbers 6:24-26 The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.

Somewhere in my distance past, I sang with a group that did a choral arrangement of those verses.  Since reading them again a couple of days ago, the music is playing in my mind.  I can hear the parts.  I can feel the hush of worship and the soaring upward of my spirit with the music.  I want to speak this blessing over my family and friends.  I want everyone in the world to know that it is God’s desire to bless us, to turn his face toward us and to give us peace!

Of Pain Born

Of pain born.

                Aching loneliness

                Longing for wholeness

                Sense of incompleteness

                Perhaps, even rage

                Results in union.

In pain born.

                Stabbing spasms

                Overwhelming pressure

                Swept along

                Lacking control

                With a groan and a cry.

To pain born.

                Broken cocoon

                Blinding light

                Stripped of warmth

                Emerging into

                A cold, hard place.

Through pain born.

                Reality of rejection

                Facing failure

                Exhausting tasks

                Eviscerating disappointments

                Inescapable existence.

               

From pain delivered.

                Freedom from flesh

                Expanding consciousness

                Wholeness of spirit

                Glorious light

                Eternal peace.

By His stripes, we are healed.