Tuesday With Teri

          Sassiness just happens.  I often INTEND to say something of value in the presence of others, yet find my comments are sometimes just plain sassy or snide, neither of which are helpful to the hearer.  Case in point, I have no problem reminding my friends who are 50 they are not just 50, they are over half a century.  To my friends who are transplants to this area and often miss their home states, I find  much delight in noting how Virginiaifed they have become, especially when their kids are born and they soon have more Virginians in their home than not.  Of course all my “comments” are tended to be good natured fun…but the other night someone shared with me something that has me thinking quite a bit about my words these days.

          We were at church when a friend told me a story about a person who was very sarcastic in his humor.  Seems this guy was at church one day when following one of his comments, the gentleman he spoke to turned to him and said something like, “I don’t like how you always say things that put me down, it really discourages me.”  Now, I may have mangled the quote a bit because I don’t recall it all word for word…but two things struck me; First, was my friend telling me this story because “I” am often heard giving others a hard time? Second, could someone I know possibly be feeling as the gentleman in this story did?

          It was just a quick story and my friend did not intend to teach me a lesson in the sharing, but I did take home a lesson none the less.  It is possible that for the sake of being funny, I say things that are less than uplifting.  I try to be smart or spiritual…but sassiness just spills from my lips.  I want my words to be welcome to the hearer.  I do not want others to feel the need to brace for my comments or hurtful wit.  Sassiness just happens.

          I don’t mean to make myself sound like I am verbally abusive or insensitive.  On the contrary, I think I am close to normal in the amount of verbal volleying that takes place within my circle of friends and family.  I think good natured ribbing among friends and family is not so bad.  I have just been feeling lead to be a better steward of the resources of my words.  This task is best compared to trying to stop Niagara from falling….good thing “ALL things are possible through God..”

How precious a gift we have in our relationships with others.  It is worth our effort to curb our comments and allow our words to be helpful and not hurtful. 

Ephesians 4:29 is worth looking at from two different translations:

Let no corrupt word proceed out of your mouth, but what is good for necessary edification,

that it may impart grace to the hearers. (NKJ)

 Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths,

but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs,

hat it may benefit those who listen. (NIV)

Lord help us to be mindful of the impact of our words. 

Allow us to bring blessings to others when we give our speech over to You.

Let our words  “give grace to the hearers”.

         I read a funny story the other day…a youngster was watching his grandmother put on her make up, “what are you doing?” he asked.  “Well, you see when ladies get older they put on make up to cover their wrinkles” she said.  He studied her face intently; “It doesn’t seem to be working” came his innocent reply.  Sigh, sometimes it does feel as if this flesh of ours is in constant disrepair.  Thinning hair, wrinkles, aching bones, sore muscles, and fatigue are no stranger to us as we journey further in life.

        Then there are those moments when we are awe struck by the fragility of life.  A tiny hand grasping a parent’s finger for the first time, the cautious shuffle of an elderly gentleman escorting his wife down the church hall, an unexpected illness that changes lives or the loss of a life are all reminders of our temporary earthen vessels.

       At first these thoughts seemed depressing, but then I considered my God.  I know Him to be a God of purpose and plans. Of COURSE He would not form us from insufficient substance without reason.

       2 Corinthians  4:6&7, 16-18  For God, who said, “let light shine out of darkness,” made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.  But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us……Therefore do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed each day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far out-weighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

       My “jar of clay” may be a bit cracked and showing signs of wear, but it is a constant reminder that All I have, All I am and ALL I do is because of God.  He has given us the knowledge of His glory through His son Jesus Christ and He alone has made allthings possible.

          I am loved!  It’s not that I did not know it, it’s just that sometimes it feels good to acknowledge it out loud for myself as well as others.   I soaked in a bunch of extra loving this weekend as I celebrated my birthday.  My friends and family all made this a special time.  As I basked in the glow of kindness, I kept thinking, not only of how incredibly blessed I am, but just how much I love these wonderful people God has placed in my life.  Kind words, thought filled gifts, hugs, time spent together, and good food all filled my “birthday weekend.”  At one point, when I prepared to blow out a few candles on a cake, I actually thought my heart would burst it was so filled with love for those who had orchestrated that moment and joined me in celebration. 

          It is easy to love those in my life, especially when they are pouring extravagant love out on me.   This kind of love oozes grace.

          I think of my dog Hughie, our porky little Yorkie with an attitude.  He is not a “good” dog by most standards.  He has no reservations about going potty in my house.  He barks each morning around 6 am and is less than welcoming to those who enter our home, rightfully earning his nickname “Hughcifer!”  But even with all these strikes against him, I love him tremendously.  WHY?  Because this little guy LOVES ME.  Yep, no other pet I have ever owned has displayed such affection for me.  When he sees me, whether I have been gone for the day or for a mere few minutes, his entire body wags in excitement.  When I sit down, he hurries to fill my lap.  When I am not sitting holding him, he is constantly watching my every move, anticipating a chance to be next to me.  He thinks I am the bee’s knees! He LOVES ME, so I cannot help but love him.

          I love all the young mothers in our church I have gotten to know over these years, but most of all I LOVE their little ones.  Why?  They love me.  Of course, this is due to a few calculated efforts on my part. I’m the lady whose pool they played in.  I get to be the non-disciplinarian who plays games and give treats.  This has resulted in a sweet out pouring of love from these precious kiddos.  They call out my name, tell me they love me, give me hugs and kisses and smile when they see me.  This thrills my soul!  I can’t help but love them beyond words!

          I love my friends and family.  They are quick to laugh with me, not just at me.  They let me be imperfect and still be acceptable.  They give me the gift of their time and share their talents with me.  They celebrate with me.  They grieve with me.  They lift me up in prayer.  They challenge and encourage me.  They think of me.  They smile when they see me (usually).  They love me, so I can’t help but LOVE THEM.

          This last Sunday as I considered all the love I have around me I could not help thinking of a children’s song from long ago….

Oh how I love Jesus, oh how I love Jesus, oh how I love Jesus…because He first loved me.

We are recipients of such grace filled extravagant love from our Lord and Savior…how could we help but LOVE Him!

          I ran my first 5k!  Okay, let me clarify, I “jogged, trotted, trudged” through my first 5k.  Do not get me wrong, I am super proud of myself.  I still cannot believe I actually signed up to participate and am over the moon that I finished.  But it comes as no surprise that it would not be my athleticism or cardio fitness that would get me through this event.

          This crazy idea started at the prompting of my friend Ann.  She took on a project in the spring to run a 5k.  I was so inspired by her effort that I decided to try it too.  I plunged into my training and worked hard to learn how to run one, two and eventually three miles.  They are not pretty miles.  Unlike the numerous runners/joggers I pass in our town, I pant, wheeze, and fight the pavement for forward movement the entire time.  Seriously, I wear headphones to drown out the discouraging sound of my own labored breathing.  I get through each mile by repeating to myself, “I must keep moving, no matter how slow, just keep moving.” 

          I knew committing to the 5K was important, it gave me a set goal and quickened my effort to run farther, but I must admit that if Ann were not with me the morning of the run, I would have got in my car and gone home.  Before I knew it we were gathered with the others to begin our journey.  My adrenaline was flowing, my heart already racing, when they sounded the start. 

          This was not Ann’s first 5k.  She has worked hard to accomplish being able to run farther and at a good pace.  I knew if she were going to run with me, she would need to slow herself down considerably.  I told her she did not have to stay with me, I felt bad at first.  It did not take long before I realized how grateful I was that she insisted she pace herself with me.   

          We did not talk during the run, I was too busy breathing and telling myself to keep moving.  We exchanged an occasional glance, thumbs up, smile or grimace.  It must have been a very lonely time for Ann.  I was running faster than usual and trying hard, but one by one other runners passed us by.  While I had no expectation of being first or fast, I was surprised at the emotional impact this had on me.  In no time at all two women enjoying a pleasant conversation as they jogged, a man running with his dog and alternately running then walking, a woman who had just recovered from a sprained ankle, and numerous others, passed me.  “Just keep moving,” I told myself.   

          When I looked at Ann she would be smiling, never letting on if she worried if I’d make it.  Although I knew she could run faster, I never felt like she was dismayed at how slow we had to go.  She patiently stayed by my side.  When I was too busy trying to breathe and run to pay attention, she would steer me the direction I needed to go, keeping on the course and the appropriate side of the street.  As we crested the last horrendous hill, Ann pointed up ahead to the illuminated time clock at the finish line.  “Do you see it?” she asked.  “You’re almost done.”   I was beyond done.  Suddenly I had to slow to a walk.  The finish line in sight, I just could not get my breathing to cooperate.  Ann, slowed to a walk with me for a few yards before we picked back up our pace.  I’d like to say I sprinted to the finish…but I can’t.  As we approached the finish “shoot” (a cordoned off path which allows only one runner at a time to assure accurate times and placement), Ann graciously allowed me to enter before her, keeping me from being the last one to finish.  She did not deserve last place, no one made her do it, she just did it out of her care for me.

           What a wonderful earthly example of my heavenly father.  You see, like Ann, my God never leaves me.  He meets me at my pace and goes with me all the way.  He challenges me to keep going, shows me the hope of the finish, and does not give up on me when I am not where he wants me to be. He keeps me on course and safely on the right side of life.   Others may pass me, succeed when I fail, but He stays with me still.  Though I falter and even slow to a walk, He does not give up on the plans He has for me.  

When I told my daughter that I was actually last, I expected her to tease me a bit…but she quickly replied, “Someone has to be last, what matters is you ran.”  I’d like to add to that…”What matters is we don’t run alone.”

          We stood on the dock under the star packed sky.  We stared up into the darkness and marveled at the brilliant display above us.  My husband and I, along with several of our boating friends, were staying at a marina in Maryland, just off the Chesapeake Bay.  We are quite an eclectic bunch…displaced Kentuckian, Floridian, Puerto Rican, Cuban, and Romanian friends…but we have shared numerous boating adventures and truly value our time together.  This particular trip one of our friends’ moms was with us, she is visiting from Romania and speaks very little English.  For most of the trip, she has sat in the background, a quiet smile on her face as she takes in all she sees and hears.   Because of her lack of English and my lack of any other language, she and I have only exchanged smiles, nods and a few conversations translated by her daughter.  However, this night, under those amazing stars I understood her clearly.

          As we were oooohhing and awwwing over the numerous stars, one of our friends brought out a unique instrument.  It looked like half a binocular at first.  It was a night vision monocular.  Through its lens, the pitch black departed and every sliver of light became amplified.  I took my turn and peered through it up at the stars….it was breath taking.  Where once I saw millions of glittering stars, I now saw trillions of glittering stars.  Through this lens, I could see stars upon stars, beyond stars.   I could not stop looking.  I did not want to pass it on so someone else could see.  I even lay down on the dock and held it to my eye trying to take in the intense beauty it revealed.  Then it was time to share.

          We handed it to our friend’s mom and encouraged her to look upward…no translation was required to know what she said.  Her mouth fell open in awe then slowly formed a knowing smile.  Transfixed by the sight, she made gestures indicating the immenseness of it all.  I completely understood.  She continued to gaze at the stars in wonder.  It was a privilege to stand beside her and also take it all in.  We had nothing in common.  She lives in a country still struggling to grant personal freedom.  She has walked through times too tragic to imagine.  Her language is beyond my comprehension, her reality far from my own.  I watched her as she browsed the night sky, this courageous woman, mother, daughter …her life, her past so complex…but on this night we had something in common, a universe filled with stars.  Then she looked at me and pointing to the Big Dipper constellation uttered “Ursa Mare”.    The words were familiar if but a little different, “Ursa Major” I replied.  We both grinned and smiled at each other.  Nothing else needed to be said and we just stood there quietly watching the sky.

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.  Day after day they pour forth their speech; night after night they display their knowledge.  There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard.” Psalm 19:1-3

          Sigh…summer is slipping away.  I know this because the shelves of school supplies at local stores are almost bare.  The few remaining available lunch box choices do not boast of popular characters or idols, just basic vinyl without frills.  I see summer easing back into a thing of memory in the tearful eyes of moms preparing to send their first kindergartener to school.  Summer slides past me in the chaos of families trying to eek out one more summer activity/memory.  Grocery store shelves are full of “lunch friendly” foods once again.  I see summer waving goodbye as I watch the shopper in front of me unload a cart full of juice boxes, lunchmeats and snack packs of pudding.

          It is okay.  I have not been short changed by any means…I have had a great summer and although I hate to see it go, I must admit it does not seem to be too soon.  It is sort of like after you finish a really big delicious meal…you are sorry you’re done eating, but you could not fathom another bite.  I am ready for the next season.

          One of the things I like best about living in Virginia is the passing of seasons.  I like that just when you think you can’t take another day of humidity and heat, the air grows crisp and fall arrives.  I like that after the colorful leaves of fall have dropped the gray empty tree limbs are soon coated with a brilliant white dusting of snow.  I like knowing that the cold dark days of winter will eventually give in to the brighter days of a flower-filled spring…passing seasons represent hope.

          I hope for a new day.  I hope for a changed pace.  I hope for a fresh start.  I hope for restoration.  I hope for new memories to add to my cherished ones. 

“But as for me, I will always have hope; I will praise You more and more….since  my youth You have taught me, and to this day I declare Your marvelous deeds…Your righteousness reaches to the skies, O God, you who have done great things.  Who O God is like You?  Though you have made me see troubles….You will again bring me up…I will sing praise to You, I whom You have redeemed.”   Psalm 71:14-25

          I was fishing at the dock today.  It was a calm evening and the water looked slick and seamless.  Since I was not too busy reeling in my intended prey, the giant catfish we call “Moby Cat”, I had plenty of time to take in the picturesque surroundings.  That is when I first noticed them.  They were a motley crew, six young wood ducks gliding past the docks.  No doubt, they were on their way to glean an evening snack from among the water plants that populate the shoreline.

         These were decidedly juvenile ducklings.  They were smallish in size and lacking the vibrant coloring that will come in time.  I recalled seeing a male and female wood duck parading a small contingency of fluffy ducklings around these docks this past spring.  As the summer continued, we would see them from time to time and marvel at how quickly they seemed to be growing.  I wondered if these young ones were from that brood.

          My heart ached as I watched them confidently carrying on the business of being a duck, without the familiar sight of their momma duck.   Where was momma duck?  Was she watching them from nearby?  Was she somewhere on a distant riverbank trying to push her worry for them to the back of her mind? ….Will they make good choices?  Will they be capable of finding food on their own?  Did they pay attention to all the lessons she tried to teach them?  Will they be safe?  Can they survive out in the world on their own? …. I wondered if she was experiencing empty nest syndrome.  Did her feathers puff up with pride when she thought of them?  Suddenly I realized how much I felt like that momma duck.

          This last weekend we became empty nesters once again.  Our daughter, now 21, has begun her junior year at a college in South Carolina.  It is not her first semester there, yet it felt like I was leaving her for the first time when we dropped her off on Saturday.  Our 23 yr. old son had been living back at home while working and going to school.  He moved out this weekend as well.  I am thrilled for them both. 

          Ashley has found a good fit at the College of Charleston.  She has made good friends and seems challenged but not overwhelmed.  Her world is expanding by leaps and bounds.  She is happy.

          Steven works full time at a hospital and is a full time student.  His new apartment is only minutes from his work, but he will need to work another part time job to be able to afford it.  It is a good move for him.   He is taking on new responsibilities and investing his time wisely.   He is excited to be out on his own again and we can already see a difference in him.  He is happy.

I am happy too… They are smart, funny, confident, and caring young adults…it is just hard to shake the worry I share with that momma duck. 

        This is not the first time I have let them go….there was kindergarten, bicycle riding, first grade, first sleepover, first dates, first car,  learning to swim, middle school, high school…. too many times to mention, when I knew I could not protect them or hold their hand, times I did not have all the answers and times  I was decidedly not in control of their lives….and yet this is a different kind of letting them go.

          I know the God who saw us through all those growing up years will continue to hold them in His capable arms.  A friend once shared a prayer for her young adult daughter with me….I have echoed it myself many times…

“God, please give them wisdom, but until then give them grace.”

I may not always understand their journey, but it is theirs to walk and they do not go alone.

As I have since the day they were born, I will continue to “carry them to Jesus”

  .

          It was quite a vision of architectural mastery…my little nephew, Zachary, and his Uncle Scott had just completed a teetering tower of sand together.  The globular “castle” was formed from wet, drizzled sand and stood about a foot tall complete with a small “moat” in the front of it.  Zachary carefully placed small shells along its sides and top.  Both were proud of their effort. 

          Not too much later in the morning, as Zachary was showing his cousin Ashley their masterpiece, the rising tide began to whittle away the base of the structure.  We all watched helplessly as the tiny tower began to sag to its side and eventually collapse.  Little Zachary’s eyes grew wide and we braced for his disappointment….”ooooooh nooooooo!”  we heard him say, as he tossed his hands in the air in a gesture that seemed to ask, What happened?

          His wise cousin Ashley explained to him that the foundation was just not strong enough.  

        While it is difficult to be at a beach and NOT write about all the Biblical applications found in the tremendous amount of sand, even I could not pass up this topic.  Here in Hilton Head South Carolina the beaches are expansive.  Wide swaths of packed sand lead down to gentle waves.  I have never been on beaches so firm and flat.  Joggers, walkers, bikers, and even families with strollers are moving across the beaches all day long. 

          It is easy to forget how precarious the ground below actually is, but by mid day beach chairs are sinking into the sand as if being swallowed by quick sand.   No matter how firm you think the earth below you is, it will eventually give in to the incoming tide and become a gooey, spongy mess.

         I think that is exactly the image Jesus may have wanted us to have when we read his words in Mathew 7: 24-27.   “…and every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand; and when the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon the house and it fell; and great was the fall of it.”  

         Hearing the Word of God and failing to be obedient to it is as foolish as building a house on gooey, spongy sand.  We will not be able to stand against the rising tides in life and I am pretty certain that we would all then find ourselves saying, “ooooh noooooo!”

Lucy is my son’s 10-month-old Wiemaraner.   She is about 60 pounds of puppy.  She is not well trained on the leash yet, making our daily walks a bit of a challenge.  The problem is not just that she pulls continually at the leash, but rather her inability to focus on moving forward on the walk.  Take today for example.

Today we walked one entire mile, down our street and back.  In that relatively short span, here is what she accomplished:

• 2 newspapers retrieved from various drive ways, none of which were ours.
• One squirrel chased up a nearby tree
• 2 cats cowering below parked cars
• One jogger who increased her pace to avoid Lucy’s advances
• 3 dandelion tuffs devoured
• One decorative flag waving seductively from a mailbox, narrowly escaped being eaten
• Senselessly jumped in effort to catch bird perched on telephone line
• A quick drink form a small puddle of water on side of road
• Carried at least  3 branhces (not “sticks”, but branches with leaves) alternately dropping  then retrieving them
• Sniffing every mailbox and saying hello to every neighbor working in their yard
• Collected objects along the way including pinecones, rocks, acorns and a dead frog.

 My right arm, the one I held her leash with, is no doubt inches longer due to her eager pulling.  She will need a lot more practice walking on leash, but in retrospect who can blame her for her lack of focus on our walk.  There were exciting things to see, smells to smell and things to taste everywhere we went.  Maybe if I were she, I too would lack focus and bolt every direction except the direction planned for me.

As we both made our way back to the house I’m not sure who was panting more, we were both exhausted.  I could not stop thinking about how nice the walk could have been had she simply walked with me and followed my lead.  That’s when it occurred to me just how much I have in common with Lucy.

I too am quickly nudged off task by my own lack of focus.  God’s direction in my life is often clear, yet it does not take much for me to lose my way.  I take on things He does not ask me to take on.  I stop and dwell on things He is trying to pull me past.  I will trade His final destination for me for an immediate opportunity to bring myself satisfaction.  How nice my journey could be if I would simply walk with Him and follow His lead.

What an immense challenge, making God my one desire.   This week I will dwell on Psalm 63:1-8….

“Oh God you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you….Because Your love is better than life, my lips will glorify You.  I will praise you as long as I live, and in Your name will I lift up my hands…..On my bed I remember You; I think of you through the watches of the night…my soul clings to you…..”

           I love my husband for …the numerous meals he endured comprised solely of variations of mac and cheese(one of the few things I knew how to cook in the early years), the time I tossed hot biscuits in his lap(he had laughed at how they looked, admittedly they resembled snowballs with brown spikes), the simple rope swing he built just for me, the day I brought home an old wooden cable wheel and informed him it was our new TV stand and he did not look surprised, the many times he braved the frozen linoleum floors of our trailer to reignite our pilot light in the early morning,  the way he always helped with the kids, time spent with the kids building forts, boating and teaching them how to ride a bike,  taking us camping and exposing us to such sweet memories of campfires and adventure, the time I scratched the paint off our car while trying to scrape ice off the hood.

        I love my husband for…. all the times he struggled to reconcile my illogical reasoning with is logical mind, how hard he works not only to provide for us, but also to honor God in all he does,  his calm in the midst of my storms,  his wisdom ….this list could go on, but I guess there is no  need, I know I have tons of reasons to love him.

        This anniversary we celebrate 26 years of marriage, not 26 years of perfection.  We do not celebrate always being happy…instead we celebrate our lives together as a reminder of God’s grace to us.  We celebrate 26 years of not always knowing what we were doing or where we are going and thanking our God for the journey!

I love you Scott for all you are and do, but especially for how you love me…you’re my favorite!