Tuesday With Teri

“When I am a hundred and two, and have long forgotten even my own name, I will still be able to sing all of the song, ‘Jesus Loves Me’.” It was a passing comment, a simple statement, made by a random character in a book I was reading recently, but it made me chuckle out loud.   He was referring to the impact of years of church attendance while growing up. I can relate!

I have what I have heard others refer to as a “drug problem”. My mom “drug” me to church every time the doors were open, and between Church service, Sunday School, prayer meetings, visitation, Back Yard Bible School, Vacation Bible School, Kids Choir, Youth Choir, and Bible Studies, they were open a lot. I may not have always wanted to be there, but looking back at it now I see the powerful, positive, impact it had on my life. Like the character in my book, I too am certain I will forever be able to recall all the words to the song, “Jesus Loves Me”.

As a baby, it was sung to me. As a little girl I sang it loudly with the uninhibited joy of a child. As an adult, I sang it as a tender reminder of childhood. As a mom, I sang it as I rocked each of my babies. As they grew, I sang along in the car as my kids belted out the tune while listening to a cassette tape. Eventually, my rendition of the song would be relegated to humming quietly to myself.

It may not be full of doctrinal insight, but the song, “Jesus Loves Me”, contains the seeds of my salvation and the unshakable anchor in my life.

“Jesus loves me….”– Not because I am lovable, but through His grace. I am loved because I am His. I cannot earn, nor can I loose, His love. I can only choose to accept it.

“this I know, for the Bible tells me so…”- God’s Word is unchanging and unerring. It is truth. God said it, that settles it.

“little ones to Him belong…”- He values even the least of us. Our stature, our earthly acceptance, our years do not keep Him from us. When others do not receive us, He does.

“they are weak, but He is strong…”-He alone is my strength when I am weak. His grace is enough, my forgiveness complete. His peace is beyond comprehension. He is my hope.

“Yes, Jesus loves me…yes, Jesus loves me….yes, Jesus loves me…the Bible tells me so” – When I am tired, when the world fails me, when I stumble, when I am lost, when I am hurting or confused….Yes, Jesus loves me.

May these truths  dwell in our hearts today and until we  are one hundred and two!

Yep, gonna challenge you to take a minute and sing it out loud (If you know it)….it needs to be done. Sing it as you did as a child, open to God’s love and uncaring of your singing skills. Sing it and remember you are loved!

I opened my fridge and stared blinkingly at its contents. “Is that a canned energy drink sitting on that shelf?” I asked while shaking my head and smiling to myself. For a moment I thought maybe we had teenagers visiting our home for the weekend…but no, it was just my Uncle Jack and Aunt Debbie and they are decidedly NOT teens any more.

I learned the tall can of NOS (a Red Bull type energy drink) was Aunt Debbie’s. Apparently her normal beverage of choice in the morning is a concoction of cranberry juice and a Red Bull. The NOS in my fridge was just a variation of that while she is traveling.

I appreciated that she at least poured it into a coffee cup before joining us on the deck that morning. There is something comforting to me about seeing folks in the morning holding a coffee cup…the image of my Aunt Debbie holding a tall can of NOS would confuse my expectations.

We laughed at her response to our teasing about the teenage oriented drink, “They are missing their market. Teenagers don’t need energy, we do!”   Almost immediately,  imaginary “bright idea” light bulbs began to pop above our heads as we submitted ideas for the new branding effort. “Grandma’s Go Go Juice”, “Granny’s Get Up and Go”, “Grandparent Gatorade” and “Old Folks Octane”. Yep, we cracked ourselves up!

The next morning, after waving goodbye to our house guests, I thought about how much we enjoyed their visit as I poured a second cup of coffee. I looked down at the warm brown liquid in my cup and considered the different ways we each start our days.

Some people greet the morning with a cup of coffee, a latte, juice, milk or tea. Some folks enjoy a glass of soda, water, Red Bull or NOS to jump start their day. The fact that we have a new day before us is far more important than what we drink at its dawning.

It is easy to forget the gift of a new day.   I tend to take my days, each breath, for granted. Every sunrise we witness may age our bodies, but it also brings hope and renewal. As I sipped from my coffee cup, I felt a quiet wave of joy. I did not feel compelled to shout, or do cartwheels, but I did feel a deep and full appreciation for the gift of the day. I want to treasure my days and all they bring, both good and bad.

Whether we partake in coffee, tea, or even the odd energy drink, in the morning, let it remind us to thank our God for His most gracious gifts, the gift of a new day, renewed spirit, and hope for day to come.

“For all things are for your sakes, that the grace which is spreading to more and more people may cause the giving of thanks to abound to the glory of God. Therefore do not lose heart, but though your outer man is decaying, yet your inner man is being renewed day by day.” (2 Corinthians 4:15&16)

I am not brave.   In the face of a fearful situation my response is panic, flee, and avoid! This was made even more evident on a recent adventure with my hubby, Scott.

Our friends, Mitch and Susie, invited us to join them for jet skiing through the marsh ponds behind our homes. In our ongoing effort to be more open to new things, we accepted their offer.   A few minutes later, I strapped on the always figure flattering life vest, and climbed onto the Jet Ski. As I sat behind my novice Jet Ski pilot/Scott, I found myself holding tightly to his vest and trying to pretend I was having fun. Honestly, it was a bit fun, but going fast has never been a comfortable experience for me. I was already feeling the need to find my inner bravery. Then the real fun began!

It could not have been a more gorgeous day. The sky was a silky blue and a small breeze complimented the brilliant sun…..and we were with new friends out on the water!

We stopped about midway through the beautiful waterway filled marsh. Mitch and Susie brought their jet ski alongside us. We talked briefly about how great it was to be out there and agreed upon the next route we would take. THEN they took off.   Yep…..apparently we hesitated a bit too long before also taking off….the wake from their jet ski caught us on the side.

The world fell into slow motion as our large, two person jet ski began to roll. I am sure it happened in seconds, but I have vivid memory of a lengthy thought process… “Oh my goodness, is Scott leaning or is he falling off?!” “Why are we tilting so far to the right?” “Maybe we can lean the other way and save ourselves..” “oh wait, looks like we are going in the water afterall” “oooooo, I hope the bottom is not mucky” “I’m glad I have my life vest on” and of course, “Great, now what do we do?”.

We were bobbing up beside our overturned jet ski and watching our friends, who had no idea we had rolled, become nothing more than a white speck on the horizon. This was a good news/bad news kind of event. Bad news: the jet ski was upside down Good news: we had life vests Bad news: I could not touch the bottom Good news: Scott could

Eventually, I am sure it was merely a few minutes although it felt longer, Scott was able to roll the jet ski back to the upright position. Since I could not touch, he had to help boost me up a bit to reach the seat handle. Between his effort and my kicking furiously, I was able to get back up on the jet ski. (I’ll pause here for a moment so you can try to imagine the scenario, and yes, it was a funny as you are probably thinking). Scott then joined me on the jet ski. Hmmmmm, so, did you know that it is nearly impossible to switch places while on a jet ski with another person? Yep, me neither. By the time we got the jet ski up and both of us on it, we realized that we mistakenly put me at the front.

Scott: Well, looks like you’re driving now

Me: Nope, not gonna happen

Scott: you have to

Me: I don’t want to!

Scott: No choice, we can’t change places

Me: (in a whinny fear filled voice) I reallllllly don’t want to!

Scott: (leaning over me and starting the engine) You can do it

Me: SIGH….

I was NOT feeling brave. I was afraid we’d roll again. I felt capable of crashing. But I did it. I drove us to meet up with our friends and we laughed about our “incident”. They were very kind and encouraging even though we had rolled their jet ski. I even finished up our run through the marsh before we headed in for the afternoon.

Now, I know this is not a situation that called for extreme bravery. It is not as if I were a war zone or facing a cancer diagnosis. But it brings to mind where bravery comes from. You see, the ONLY reason why I managed to drive the jet ski and actually enjoy it, was because my wonderful husband was at my back and continually telling me things like, “you got this”, You’re doing fine”, “don’t be afraid to give it gas”, You’re doing great”.   If I did not have his words bouncing into my ear I am certain my naturally non-brave, non-adventurous self would have taken over and I would have simply sat there and waited for rescuing.

I have known many brave people. I am often humbled seeing others walk through challenges with grace and courage. Maybe, for some, bravery is part of how God made them. Maybe they find rising to a challenge comes easily, but for many of us this is not the case.

For me, bravery seems to come from a place outside of myself, like Scott giving me encouragement. When I am uncertain, fearful, or facing a challenge beyond my own strength, I know my God is with me. He goes before me and is behind me in all things. He is the voice that whispers in my ear, “You’ve got this”, “You’re going to be fine, don’t be afraid to go forward” and “You’re doing great”.

Life calls for bravery. It may be a life altering situation, a staggering test of faith or simply an endeavor that places you beyond your comfort zone, but at some point in time you will need to be brave.

Today I am thankful for a God Who never leaves me, walks with me and helps me be brave. He makes us brave!

“Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble at them, for the Lord your God is the One who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6

This song helps to remind us, that we do not have to live life on our own or in fear.     “YOU MAKE ME BRAVE!”

Sometimes they are called “angel wings”.  Often when a clam of some kind is opened, and has been tossed onto shore, we find only a single side at a time….but sometimes we find the two halves still intact. Various clams are the most common type of shells that line the shore near our home, so I see a lot of “angel wings” while jogging on the beach.   I don’t usually think much about it, but today I saw them differently.

Today, I stopped and pulled the empty clam shells from the rift of sand from which they protruded.  I held them in my hand and studied the image they presented.

I wondered how this clam was emptied.   Did some marine animal force it open to consume its life?   Did the life inside simply grow weak and give up its hold?   Did the rough journey to the shore break it apart, allowing birds to access its soft unprotected body?   All I know is that now it sat open and empty in my hand. And I thought…..I know what being open and empty feels like too.

Sometimes life seems to consume us.  Sometimes our “journey to shore” breaks us apart, and we fall prey to the hurt around us.   Sometimes we just feel weak and desire to let go.   When I do not have answers, when life seems unfair, when my striving is senseless, when I hurt or feel the hurting of those I love…it is then I remember that there is nothing in me that can handle this life…I am simply open and empty.

I looked at the clam sitting open in my palm.   I thought it was a sad and broken thing, but then God nudged me to look closer.   It was suddenly very obvious…it was not broken!   This tiny set of “angel wings” was not broken, instead the expanse of the shell edges seemed to be more of an invitation, a welcoming gesture like an angel spreading its wings to take in a tired soul.   Maybe being open and empty is not a bad thing.

In an open and empty heart there is much more room for God.   When I empty myself of me, He steps in to fill me up.   He brings me love, joy and hope, not as the world gives, but as only He can give…beyond my circumstances and beyond my expectations.   I have poured out my heart before Him and now my heart is full!

The “angel wings” sit on my desk now and remind me how beautiful being open and empty can become when we allow God to fill our heart and our lives with His love for us.

“Trust in Him at all times, O people, Pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us.” Psalm 62:8

This last weekend was Memorial Day. It seemed odd to be enjoying a beautiful day, relaxing and laughing with friends when the premise for this holiday is to remember those who can no longer enjoy such festivities, those who gave their lives in service.

I thought of the battles they may have endured, the wars they valiantly fought, and the empty places they left in this world when they died. There are communities lacking leaders and organizations missing hard workers. There are wives without husbands and husbands without wives. There are homes without fathers, mothers, daughters and sons.  I contemplated the impact of their lives as well as the impact of their loss…..all while basking in the sunshine on a beach, boating, playing bocce ball and corn hole, going to a winery, laughing a lot and drinking and eating with good friends. The irony weighed heavy on my heart.

I could not help but think of different battles this Memorial Day.

It was a Memorial Day weekend when my father lost his battle with cancer.  Each year I find myself quietly mourning the loss, while celebrating his life.  I am forever impacted by how he lived, laughed and loved.  A summer storm, rain evaporating off a heated driveway, and distant thunder, always brings my heart to a halt.  I easily envision my dad sitting at the edge of the garage, sweet tea in hand, taking in the show.  Like the soldiers who died in service, he too lost his life in battle, the treacherous battlefield of cancer…all my Memorial Days are tinted with the need to celebrate and never forget.

This Memorial Day, we joined dear friends as they honored their daughter, Linmarie, in a memorial service.  She too lost her life battling cancer.  The day was filed with familiar conflicting emotions.  In the church service we reverently shared in loss and heartache with her family and friends.  Following the service we equally shared in the celebration of her life…..once again, my Memorial Day meets with the need to celebrate and never forget.

As a nation, we take this time to honor those who lost their lives in service for our country.  We honor them by celebrating their life and service.  We honor them by living a life worthy of their sacrifice.  We honor them by enjoying our freedoms as we gather together for fellowship, fly the American flag and partake in religious activities without fear.  Memorial Day, a time to celebrate and never forget.

As the sun eased down over the horizon Monday night, I looked out at the orange and pink hued display.  It was as if I could see God Himself celebrating.  A reminder of the preciousness of life, each day a gift of grace.  Night will come, darkness may envelope us, but God is over all our darkest hours and deepest losses.  He is our Prince of peace in un-peaceful times and our comfort when the world cannot offer us comfort. Every sunset serves as a memorial.  Every sunset a reminder to celebrate and never forget.

“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven…A time to give birth, and a time to die; A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted…..A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance…”

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-4)

This last weekend was Memorial Day. It seemed odd to be enjoying a beautiful day, relaxing and laughing with friends when the premise for this holiday is to remember those who can no longer enjoy such festivities, those who gave their lives in service.

I thought of the battles they may have endured, the wars they valiantly fought, and the empty places they left in this world when they died. There are communities lacking leaders and organizations missing hard workers. There are wives without husbands and husbands without wives. There are homes without fathers, mothers, daughters and sons.  I contemplated the impact of their lives as well as the impact of their loss…..all while basking in the sunshine on a beach, boating, playing bocce ball and corn hole, going to a winery, laughing a lot and drinking and eating with good friends. The irony weighed heavy on my heart.

I could not help but think of different battles this Memorial Day.

It was a Memorial Day weekend when my father lost his battle with cancer.  Each year I find myself quietly mourning the loss, while celebrating his life.  I am forever impacted by how he lived, laughed and loved.  A summer storm, rain evaporating off a heated driveway, and distant thunder, always brings my heart to a halt.  I easily envision my dad sitting at the edge of the garage, sweet tea in hand, taking in the show.  Like the soldiers who died in service, he too lost his life in battle, the treacherous battlefield of cancer…all my Memorial Days are tinted with the need to celebrate and never forget.

This Memorial Day, we joined dear friends as they honored their daughter, Linmarie, in a memorial service.  She too lost her life battling cancer.  The day was filed with familiar conflicting emotions.  In the church service we reverently shared in loss and heartache with her family and friends.  Following the service we equally shared in the celebration of her life…..once again, my Memorial Day meets with the need to celebrate and never forget.

As a nation, we take this time to honor those who lost their lives in service for our country.  We honor them by celebrating their life and service.  We honor them by living a life worthy of their sacrifice.  We honor them by enjoying our freedoms as we gather together for fellowship, fly the American flag and partake in religious activities without fear.  Memorial Day, a time to celebrate and never forget.

As the sun eased down over the horizon Monday night, I looked out at the orange and pink hued display.  It was as if I could see God Himself celebrating.  A reminder of the preciousness of life, each day a gift of grace.  Night will come, darkness may envelope us, but God is over all our darkest hours and deepest losses.  He is our Prince of peace in un-peaceful times and our comfort when the world cannot offer us comfort. Every sunset serves as a memorial.  Every sunset a reminder to celebrate and never forget.

“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven…A time to give birth, and a time to die; A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted…..A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance…”

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-4)