A Quiet and Gentle Spirit....or not

Today I attended the funeral service for a long-time family friend.  She was 90 and had been friends with both my mother and mother-in-law.  She had also been my son's Sunday School teacher when he was a preschooler. She was a sweet lady.  The minister conducting the service referred to the verse in I Peter that exhorts women to have "the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight."  He proclaimed this lady to be a good example of such a woman.


When the time comes, I do NOT expect this verse to be used in my funeral service.


I am not trying to say anything negative about this departed friend or any other woman with a gentle and quiet spirit.  I have known some perfectly intelligent and creative women who would also fit in the gentle and quiet category.  A woman with such a spirit is not necessarily a submissive doormat.


But, I am genuinely hoping, in fact, believing, that there is a place in God's plan and kingdom for those of us with other tendencies.  My spirit tends more toward being demonstrative and exuberant.  Gentle?  I can do gentle when I am handling a baby, when I am trying to comfort someone who is wounded in body or spirit, or when I have already tried exuberance and had the situation blow up in my face.  Quiet?  Oh, wow...can I do quiet?  Maybe when I'm reading or sleeping.  Most of the rest of my life has been spent laughing, talking, singing or engaged in some noise-making physical endeavor like vacuuming or mowing or banging pots and pans.


Of course, I suppose a noisy woman could have a quiet spirit.  The minister interpreted this as someone who was calm and accepting of life's circumstances.  I'm not sure that describes me either.  Sometimes life's circumstance do have to be accepted, but there are times when someone needs to step up to the plate and change those circumstances.  That would be when you want me around.


Twenty four years ago, I was sitting in an auditorium when someone in the row behind me stood up and called out, "Somebody do something!"  I looked down my row.  An elderly woman was slumped over and ashen.  Beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead. She was obviously not breathing.  The rows were narrow, so I don't really remember how I got by the 3 or 4 people sitting between us.  I think I more or less dove over them.  I yanked out her dentures and dropped them in the lap of the lady sitting next to her.  I suspect she was startled, but it seemed perfectly logical to me at the time.  I tilted her head, pulled her jaw forward and began mouth to mouth resuscitation.  People jumped out of adjacent seats and helped me lay her out on the bench, so that I could resuscitate more effectively.  She revived and began breathing on her own.


Later than evening, a minister who heard about it decided to tease me.  He said, "How did you know God didn't want her in heaven tonight?"
When my husband and I were alone, I repeated to him what the minister had said.
My husband's response:  "Oh, my dear, if God wanted her in heaven this evening, He knew better than to let you sit in the same row."


I believe that there is a place in God's plan for women who jump up and do what needs to be done, whether or not it can be done quietly and gently.


I wonder what verse will be cited at my funeral.  Unless there is a lobotomy in my future, I'm guessing that it won't be I Peter 3:4.

Finding My Voice

I have always wanted to write.  As a teen I began what was to be a great novel about a kingdom hidden within a mountain.  I think I may have written a page or two.  I also began dabbling in poetry during that era of my life.


I have intermittently kept a journal for my eyes only, written poems and had a handful published, composed song lyrics...no takers on those, and collected rejection letters for children's books.


Blogging is my current attempt, but in a year and a half I have had only 13,300 hits...most of them on one piece I wrote on dog poop.  Sad, but true.


Currently I am reading a book by an absolutely fantastic writer.  I wish I could write in such a compelling manner...minus the profanity.  She is articulate, funny, insightful and brutally honest about herself and others. She does not share some of the tenets that are the underpinnings of my life, but I appreciate her talent.


I am struggling to find "my voice" and wondering, once I find it, will there be an audience for it?

The Basement

It has been nearly a month since we moved into our new home, but the old one is still not completely cleaned out.  Today I worked on the basement.  In preparation for the move, I had taken a couple of prior passes through the dingy, dirty dungeon, but over 30 years of clutter is just not that easy to wade through.


The endeavor was physically exhausting.  The sorting and cleaning process raised so much dust that I wore a mask.... into which I kept sneezing.  Yuk.  Heavy items needing to be moved in order to get at other items were in abundance.


The process was also mentally exhausting.  Too many questions needed to be answered.
Why did my husband remove some of those tools from the rummage sale pile and keep them?
How many electric drills and levels does one person need?
What environmentally friendly means I am to use to get rid of all this old paint?
How many times did I buy sandpaper, instead of using up what was already there?
Do I need to feel guilty about throwing out two file drawers of woodworking magazines and patterns that belonged to my departed father?
Should I sell the pump organ?  Is there any real possibility that I will ever restore it?
Yes, I have a pool table to sell, but where are all the balls?
How many different kinds of nails are there anyway?  And, why are they always in disintegrating brown paper sacks?
And..
Why, oh why, did my dear dad save old toilet seats?  Did he think he would someday need to construct an outhouse?  Was he planning to use them as picture frames?


Eventually, I was on overload and had to come home, take a shower and put the heating pad on my back.  Sadly, the job isn't finished yet.

Warm Socks

The day began at Cannon Mountain in New Hampshire.  I watched the first man in the 1000 Islands Silver Express take off at noon in a miserable fog and drizzle.  The team is composed of 12 men from the Thousand Islands region who are all over the age of 50....my husband and 11 of his running buddies.  One of the other wives and I go along and play a support role.

After slogging through the muddy fields and puddles at the starting line, we hopped in the car and drove down the road to cheer on other members of the relay team.  Then we headed for the campground at White Lake State Park and prepared to serve the guys a hot meal.  The skies had cleared, but the ground was wet and there was no chance of my feet drying out.

The team travels in two large vans with 6 men in each.  One van pulled in around 6 pm.  We fed them, they crawled back in the van or in the tent we had set up to rest.  Later in the evening, they took off and the other van arrived.  We fed them, and they rested.  Because the men were in the tent, the other wife and I huddled around the fire trying to stay warm.  The sky was clear with a brilliant moon and many stars visible through the treetops. Unfortunately, such a clear night is a perfect set up for chilly weather.  We could see our breath.  By the time the second van left and we could break camp, it was 1 AM.  Although I was wearing two sweatshirts and was wrapped in a blanket sitting next to a campfire, I was shivering.

We had made a reservation at a nearby hotel.  My daughter and two little granddaughters, who had come to watch the race, had checked into the hotel hours earlier.  We crept in quietly.  I crawled in the double bed with my daughter.  She stirred and asked how I was.  I said that I was cold.  She asked if I needed a long-sleeved shirt.
"No, it's my feet that are so cold."
She replied, "Oh, I just took my socks off!"
She handed them to me, still warm from her body heat.

Ah...the gift of warm socks!

I fell asleep quickly, thankful for that small blessing.

A Universe from Nothing

Stephen Hawking recently has been quoted as saying that there is no need for God in order to explain the origin of the universe.  Speaking from the perspective of a physicist and mathematician, he states that something could indeed come from nothing.


I am not going to argue that point.  I do not have Hawking's intellect or expertise in those fields.  But, there can be a difference between what "could be" the truth and what actually "is" the truth. Hawking cannot prove that he is right, only that he might be right.  I cannot prove that I am right in what I believe, but I might be.


Here is what I believe.  Colossians 1:15-20  (Phillip's Translation)


Now Christ is the visible expression of the invisible God.  He existed before creation began, for it was through him that everything was made, whether spiritual or material, seen or unseen.  Through him, and for him, also, were created power and dominion, ownership and authority.  In fact, every single thing was created through, and for, him.  He is both the first principle and the upholding principle of the whole scheme of creation.  And now he is the head of the body which is the Church.  Life from nothing began through him, and life from the dead began through him, and he is, therefore, justly called the Lord of all. It was in him that the full nature of God chose to live, and through him God planned to reconcile in his own person, as it were, everything on earth and everything in Heaven by virtue of the sacrifice of the cross.


How interesting that something written two thousand years ago is still relevant....and still unproven one way or the other by means of man's intellect.

Exercising Free Speech

I consider myself to be an evangelical and a political conservative, but I am troubled by some of the people who, therefore, end up in the same pigeon hole with me.


We live in a country that allows us free speech, including criticism of our government and our leaders.  I appreciate this freedom.  However, I think we need to be careful about how we exercise it.  Periodically, I receive emails or links with content that makes me very ill at ease.  I am appalled by some of the mean-spirited and outright nasty pieces that are circulated about our current president.  Yes, I know the liberals served up the same kind of distasteful mess when Bush was president.  That does not mean that I, as a believer in Jesus, have a right to reciprocate.


I do not agree with all of the policies of our current elected officials.  I may not respect their opinions.  But, I believe I am obligated by scriptural mandate to respect their authority.  I believe that God moves in human history and that leaders come into power to bring about God's purposes.  Since we cannot see into the future, we are pretty much ignorant of those purposes.  What seems like a huge mistake to us may be a piece in God's puzzle.


Carrying a little bit of truth to it's most extreme interpretation happens routinely by the left in criticizing the right.  Those on the right may also enjoy doing it to the left, but it should not be my game as a Christian.  The truth should not be perverted to suit my purposes no matter how noble those purposes seem to me.


Of course, in this age of too much information, getting a handle on truth is increasingly difficult.  The multiplication of the number of people who are purporting to have the "facts" means we are less likely to get a grip on truth.  People may end up completely at odds with one another, although both have drawn logical conclusions, because they started with different sources for their "facts."


Today I am praying for our nation, for our leaders, for all of us who cast ballots in voting booths.  May God grant us wisdom, and may "His kingdom come...His will be done."

The End of the Wallpaper Saga...I hope

The replacement wallpaper finally arrived late yesterday.  I asked for 5 rolls, although I only needed two, because after all that has happened, I figured the odds were good of something being wrong with one or more of the replacements.  They only sent two....claimed that's all they had to send.


The red, blue, gold and background beige in the paper matched just fine.  The green?  Oh, my.  The green does not match the green in the original rolls which are already on the walls.  I pondered this sad fact overnight.  Finally, I decided to go ahead and use the paper even though the match isn't great.  


The original paper had gone around the entire dining area of the kitchen.  On one side the seam where the change occurs will be along the side of the frig and hidden from view.  On the other side, I'm hoping that between an air conditioner, intercom box and adjacent curtains, there will be enough to look at in that area, that guests won't notice the lack of color match.  Also, there is no area where the green on one sheet butts up against the green on another.  Plus, the border kind of unifies the whole thing.


So I spent the day up and down the ladder over and over finishing the job, including the border.  It really does look lovely.  A few minor mistakes will probably be noticed only by me. I know where I cut corners and cheated a bit.  The border covers some of my mistakes.


It's not perfect, but it is done.  I do like perfection, but I have come to recognize how rarely it is achieved in this world.