When my daughter, Laura, was a little girl, she, like all kids her age, tried different sports to find which was her true fit. First, she went out for baseball. That wasn’t a match as many times, you could find her crouched on the ground doodling in the dirt. In fact, except for the pitcher, catcher, and other key players, you would see many of her teammates doing the same thing. And because she and her compatriots were totally unaware of what was happening around them, her daddy affectionately named them “The Barbies.”
Next was soccer which came to be known in our household, as “swarm ball.” Even though each child played a certain position and was supposed to man that area, it seems that no matter where the ball was on the field, defense or offense, everyone was right there with it. Scrambling around it like chickens attacking the feed when first put in the coup, all those little girls moving as one, were kicking and scrambling to get their foot on the ball. To get that much prized goal.
This past Sunday, my pastor began preaching a series on Genesis. Pointing out in the beginning, there was nothing—not even space—just darkness, it was crucial to him to lay the foundation that the Bible is about God. It’s His story. He was here before anything was, (Isn’t that impossible to wrap your head around), and will be when we leave this world behind. And because that is true, our lives in the here and now should be focused on Him. The point: Only those things that will last throughout eternity should be what we spend our precious time on. Continue reading
My daughter, Laura, husband Andy, and their sweet daughter, Lucy Drew have found their new home and will be moving from ours in just a few short weeks. While this is good for everyone, it has already left Jerry and me with an ache in our hearts knowing that this precious time of the happy back-and-forth, face-to face bantering with Laura, hearing of Andy’s day-to-day and the challenges he faces, and being greeted by Lucy Drew’s smile and delightful babblings in the morning, is about to end. Continue reading
My Aunt Ernestine passed away this New Year’s Eve. Leaving this earth in the same bed she was born in 83 years ago, this beautiful person left behind a legacy of kindness, of encouraging others, and one of the sweetest smiles I’ve ever seen.
Having walked this road more than once and becoming what I coined in my heart and head as one of the “walking wounded,”—someone who had lost that special person(s) whose passing flips anyone’s world upside down, changing its color from a warm fuzzy to the reality that life is ever-changing—I knew the transformation was already taking place. The heartache of her illness that her husband, my Uncle Roy, and her daughter, my cousin Mary and her family, husband Rick, and children Meredith and Matthew, were already experiencing will be one that will always remain. Continue reading
Another move is upon us. After ten months in Alabama, Laura, Andy, and Lucy are returning to their roots… well Andy’s roots anyway; Laura, who claims Boston as home, would scoff at the insinuation. Regardless, there I found myself wrapping mug after mug, dish after dish, appliance after appliance in the red-themed kitchen Laura saved just for me. And as strange as it seems, she claims it’s the easiest room in the house to pack because it involves little to no thought; all you have to do is wrap and pack. Hmmm…
Lucy and Molly, the dog, helped pack, too.
After putting Lucy down for a nap, she joined me in the aforesaid easiest room and after what couldn’t have been more than five minutes, threw her arms up in exasperation proclaiming, “That’s IT. I am getting rid of everything! I am sick of having all this stuff and then having to pack and move it.” And capping off her small tirade, mental fist raised in resolve, declared, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
To quote my grandson Henry, these words, “What is happening with this, Amma? What is happening? This is dangerous,” could quite conceivably freeze you in your tracks. But don’t worry, because to Henry, eating something he doesn’t like on any particular day is dangerous. One day, it’s dangerous to eat a PB&J, on another, macaroni and cheese. He’s quite the character and quite verbal—he’s only two and a half years old!
But “This is dangerous,” could apply to so many things. There’s physical peril in regards to cliff diving, bungee jumping, tightrope walking and even choking on that aforesaid PB&J, but there’s the greater reality of the “under the radar” deceptive dangers of the everyday, the “I’m so busy” syndrome.