First Day at School

As school begins and I see the children getting off the bus next to my home, I always remember the day my first born went to kindergarten and gave me quite the scare when she did not get off the bus. It was scary then, but has given us many laughs since then.

Grandma's Ramblings

Memories!

Every year when fall comes and I see the kids going off to school, my mind goes back to the day my first born went to kindergarten – and I have to smile!

thCATUTTIFIt was a bittersweet moment years ago, but I still remember as if it were yesterday – the day my first born left the security of our home and ventured into the big world outside, going to kindergarten. How happy I was that she was growing and developing, learning to read, count and color inside the lines. But I knew I would always miss the joy of those few precious years when her world revolved around me.

Although we lived just a few blocks from the school, all the streets in our subdivision were dead end streets and the only way to school was to walk along a busy highway. For safety purposes, a school bus picked…

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Wanted: A New and Improved Tree House

 

Summer 2017

Last year my husband built our youngest granddaughter a tree house.  He called it “Odd Squad Headquarters” as she was a fan of the show at that time.

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She was so excited and she spent the first day going up and down the stairs so much it made me tired just watching.

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We celebrated the opening of Odd Squad Headquarters with a bubble display.

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This was followed by a puppet show and then we read books.

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We even had visitors on this opening day.

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During the puppet show her Papa kept interrupting her and making silly comments.  Finally she told him he was kicked out for disorderly conduct and being a nuisance.  It was such a fun day – one we will always remember.

We ended the day with pizza before closing the Odd Squad Headquarters for the day.

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She wanted to sleep in the tree house but the old folks overrode that idea.  As we headed into the house for the night she informed us that she was staying for five nights and four days. Don’t think it’s because she loved Papa and Grandma so much as she loved the tree house!

Fast forward to summer 2018

Her Papa had anticipated several years of enjoyment for her in the tree house he built with such love.  However, this week she just moved with her parents to another state.

Although she was sad to leave the tree house, she has a plan!  She told her mother:

“Papa did a good job on the tree house.  But now that he has experience building tree houses, he will build me a new  one.  It will be much better than the old.  The old one was good but this one will be even better.”

Not sure what Papa will say about this but I think he needs to get busy with the blueprint for a new and improved tree house.

 

Being a Christian in Eritrea

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Eritrea is the most restricted nation for religious freedom on the African continent.  Rebels, inspired by the Chinese Communist Revolution, led a bloody revolution for 30 years (from 1960’s to 1991) leading to the country’s independence from Ethiopia.

The independent nation fought again with Ethiopia in one of the bloodiest conflicts in Africa’s history.  On July 8 of this year there was a formal end to the war.

Eritrea was Africa’s largest single source of refugees to Europe from 2014 to 2016. Over the past decade so many people have left that Eritrea has been called the world’s fastest-emptying nation. It has been likened to Cuba and the former East Germany.

The sole legal political party, People’s Front for Democracy and Justice, has isolated the nation.  All media is state-run and there is no provision of freedom of speech, press or religion making the country ranked just behind North Korea for press freedom.   The Human Rights Watch indicates that the Eritrean government’s human rights record is among the worst in the world.  In the middle of this political conflict, thousands of Christians are subjected to treatment and conditions that would be considered criminal in the U.S. if used just on livestock.

Christians have been locked in metal shipping containers in the unrelenting desert sun.  The containers sometimes contain so many people that there is no room for them to sit down.  Provided little food or water they are also subjected to emotional and physical abuse.  Just for sharing their faith in Jesus or refusing to deny Him.

Their president, Isaias Afwerki, has failed to ratify the nation’s constitution, canceled presidential elections, outlawed other political parties and has embraced atheism.

One father is now raising his four children alone in a fugitive camp in Ethiopia after his wife died in prison because she refused to deny Jesus.  After his wife’s death he realized there was a strong chance he would be imprisoned and there would be no one to take care of his children.  To reach the fugitive camps in Ethiopia he and his children traveled by night trying to avoid the Eritrean guards.  If caught, his older boys would be forced into the military while the younger children would probably, with him, be sent to prison.

Miraculously they made it safely to Ethiopia.  While life in the camp is not the best of circumstances, at least they are safe from prison and can worship God in freedom.

When asked about his family’s experience with being a Christian in Eritrean, he replied.

“The Bible taught us that we should take up our cross.  We have to lose our life for Christ, and it happened to my wife.  This is the history of Christianity.  It is not strange, it is not something new.”

While not new in history or in many other countries, it certainly is not the gospel that is preached today in many churches.

Will you today take a moment to thank God for your freedom to worship (or not to worship) as you choose?

Will you today take a moment to pray for the Christians, not only in Eritrean, but around the world who do not have that freedom?

 

 

 

The Day I was Mad at God

I remember the moment I held my daughter in my arms.  It was overwhelming to realize I was a mother, personally responsible for this tiny baby.  Looking at her, I whispered that we were going to be the best of friends.  I shared with her my hopes and dreams of the hours we would spend reading, playing in the park and listening to music.  Four years later I once again held another daughter in my arms.  How happy I was – two beautiful daughters!

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My girls were my world.  As a mother, there was nothing I would not do to make them happy.  As time passed, my oldest daughter and her husband gave me the joy of being a grandmother.  Robert was born and his first year was filled with precious memories watching him beginning to walk and say his first words.  One year later a beautiful granddaughter was born.  As I walked into the room where my daughter lay holding this new grandchild, my heart skipped a beat when she held the baby out to me and said, “Mother, meet Barbara Rose!”  She was named Barbara after me!

In the midst of this joy, my heart was torn.  In just a few short weeks I would have the honor of dedicating this little child to God.  However, a few days after the dedication I would get on an airplane with my husband and youngest daughter and fly to the other side of the world to serve as a missionary in the Philippines.

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Several months before Rebekah had become pregnant with Barbara, God had opened a door for my husband and me to work in the Philippines for a couple of years teaching in a Bible College.  At the time I felt everything would be okay because by the time we left Robert would be over a year old and Rebekah and Rob would do fine as new parents with this little boy.  While I would miss Robert, I would have had that first year to share and treasure while we were gone.  But now my daughter, who had married very young, had not one, but two children less than twelve months apart.  She and her husband were both college students.

As I looked at them struggling to keep up with their home, their studies and two little babies, I wondered how can this young couple make it.  Holding Barbara Rose on dedication day, my heart ached as I realized I would not be there to see her sit up, take her first steps, and say her first words.  When I came back, she and her brother would not know who I was.

Yet, I knew God had called us to go.  I thought of the verse in the Bible that speaks of loving God so that in comparison it may seem we hate our family.

Rebekah and Rob went with us in the airport as far as they could go before security barred their way.  The last look I had was the two of them standing there, each with a baby in their arms, and the saddest, forlorn look on their faces.  I felt my heart would break.  I was deserting them when they really needed me.

We settled in the Philippines and while my heart still ached, I became busy in the work and prayed the time would pass fast for them.  A couple of months later, we had a call from my daughter.  Our little granddaughter was having digestive issues and it looked as if she might have to have surgery.  How I longed to go home, but we had just arrived and our budget did not really include money to make a trip home.  Rebekah assured me they would be fine and did not need us, but I could hear in her voice the longing for her mother.

Hanging up the phone, I went into my bedroom, laid on the bed and told God how mad I was at Him.  I said, “I sold everything I had, gave up my time with my grandchildren to obey You.  The least you could do is take care of them.  I feel as if I am turning my back on my daughter.”

God did not strike me with lightning for speaking that way.  That’s the beauty of a relationship with God.  He knows our hearts, He understands our pain and He loves us.  I have never understood those who feel we cannot be totally honest with God – as if He does not already know our very thoughts.  He understood the love of a mother for her children.  He loved me in spite of my hurt and anger.

But quietly I felt that “still small voice” of God speaking to me.  He said, “I turned my back on my Son for you.”

For the first time in my life I got a little idea of how much God really loved me when He sent His Son to die on that cross.  John 3:16 took on new meaning for me.

And the end of the story – Robert and Barbara quickly developed a love for Grandma and our relationship is very close.  God also has given me many more grandchildren and I believe the example we set putting God first in our lives has had a tremendous influence on my children.  Putting God first is sometime hard, but always in the end, brings great blessings.

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Pray to God….sometimes it helps

My little seven-year-old granddaughter spent the night with me.  She has a stuffed character from Dr. Seuss that always joins us for games.  When she was very little we bought this character for her.  I named him Willie, gave him a voice and she began interacting with him.

As time has passed Willie has become a part of the family.  He goes with us to the movies, colors with us (I, of course, have to use his hands to help him color) and we have some great conversations between the three of us (Willie, my granddaughter and me).

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In the afternoon we started to play a game and she wanted Willie to join us.  Although we searched all over the house we could not find him.  It was hard to believe we could not locate him since we have packed up most of the “stuff” in our house in preparation for moving and there is not a lot of places he could be.

After a few minutes of searching my granddaughter stopped right in the middle of the living room and said,

“I’m going to pray to God.  Sometimes it helps.”

She then proceeded to pray a simple prayer.

“God, help us find Willie.  Amen.”

After the prayer I turned around and immediately saw Willie.  He was sitting behind my recliner.  We had walked around that chair several times and had not seen him.  But there he was.

I had to laugh to myself at her comment….”sometimes it helps.”

I thought of how much we probably all need to take that attitude.  When problems arrive, too often I try to figure out what I can do, I talk to family and friends for solutions, and I even “google” it.

Not that those things are wrong but what if I first said,

“I’m going to pray to God.  Sometimes it helps.”

 

View from the Parsonage – Frustration – Laughter – Joy

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When I first started my blog I said I was going to share some funny stories about the joys (and trials) of being a pastor’s wife.  I shared a few stories but then thought perhaps I should just keep my funny tales to myself.  Here are the few I shared if you want a good laugh.

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I Didn’t Recognize You With Your Clothes On!

She Was Available!

Recently I was thinking about the life of a pastor and his family and the frustrations, the laughter and the joy that life brings.  Three different stories came to mind that illustrate all three scenarios.

The Frustrations

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One Sunday morning as my husband was greeting the church members after service, one man stopped him and said, “Pastor, you know what is wrong with this church?”  Smiling while thinking “I didn’t know anything was wrong – and who asked you,” my husband asked him what he thought was wrong.  His response:  “You are too organized.”

Continuing to shake hands with the other members, a woman stopped him and said, “Pastor, you know what is wrong with this church?”  Now my husband took a deep breath, smiled and said “What is wrong?”  Her response:  “You are not organized enough”

The Laughter

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There was a woman in one of our churches that bounced from church to church throughout the community.  She was a little slow mentally and when she came to our church we tried our best to make her feel welcome.

One Sunday my husband told the congregation that we would be out-of-town the following weekend as we were going to visit relatives in North Carolina.  He was encouraging everyone to please attend as members often stay home if the pastor is not going to be there.

This woman raised her hand and when my husband asked her what she wanted she asked him:  “Is Barbara going with you?”  Of course I was going and my husband replied in the affirmative.

The entire congregation tried so hard not to laugh when she said, “Well, if she can’t go with you, I can.”

The Joy

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One morning as my husband and I headed across the parking lot from the parsonage to the church office a car pulled into the driveway and a young woman got out to talk to us.  She was looking for the church that was administering the WIC (Women, Infants and Children) nutrition program.  We gave her directions to the local church that had the program.

She lingered after we gave her the information and seemed as if she was troubled and wanted to talk.  We invited her into the office and she began to share how she was pregnant and wanted to keep the baby but her boyfriend told her it was either him or the baby.  If she did not abort the child, he was kicking her out of their apartment and breaking off their relationship. She clearly did not want to abort the child but was unsure if she could raise a child by herself.

We spend time with her discussing her options.

  • She could obtain an abortion and keep her home and relationship with her boyfriend.
  • She could seek help from others, give birth to the baby and then put it up for adoption.
  • She could seek help from others and raise the child herself.

While we tried not to judge her or her boyfriend we naturally advocated for the life of the child.  It was clear she really wanted that, but just needed some help in not only making that decision but being able to have resources so she could keep that choice.

I made a list of phone numbers of various resources that would help her including the local Pregnancy Resource Center.  We also gave her our phone number and told her we would do anything we could to help her with doctor visits, baby supplies, etc.

After prayer with her, she left saying she did not know what she would do but she would keep in mind our offer of help and the list of resources I had given her.

Weeks, months went by and we never heard from her again.  I agonized over whether we had not made it clear enough that we and our church were willing to help her.

Almost 3 years later we had a district meeting at our church.  Several other churches in the area were in attendance.   A young woman walked up to me with a beautiful little girl  in her arms.  She asked:  “Do you recognize me?”

I did not know who she was.  Tears of joy quickly came to my eyes as she identified herself as the young woman who we had counseled and prayed with over the decision of abortion.  Although she had never called us back she had gone to the Pregnancy Resource Center.  They helped her with doctor visits and baby clothes and gave her the friendship she needed to carry though with the birth of that little girl.

She thanked me that we had taken the time to help her walk through the options she had and offered resources to help her in her choice of life.

So – you add it up.  The joys and the laughs far outweigh the frustrations.

The frustrations are gone, but the funny things still bring a laugh and the joys still make it all seem worthwhile.

 

When is Enough Enough?

I recently read a book recommended by one of my daughters, “Affluence with Abundance,” by  James Suzman.  The author did an intensive study of the vanishing world of the bushmen in southern Africa.

Viewed by the western world as a society lacking all the great benefits of our modern culture, the author notes:

“...hunters-gatherers appeared to be content – in fact, to thrive…with a limited material culture.  Their approach to well-being…was based on having few material wants, and those few wants were easily met with limited technologies and not too much effort. “

So unlike our western culture where we seem to want more and more,

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he noted that

“…hunter-gatherers were content by the simple expedient of not desiring more than they already had….they were content because they did not hold themselves hostage to unattainable aspirations.”

What an idea!  To be content by not desiring more than we already have.  That seems to be a totally foreign idea to most of us.   Instead of not being held hostage by desiring things we really cannot afford, we use that magical plastic that gives us now what will take months, maybe years to pay for.  Many items we purchase on credit are out of fashion or used up before they are even paid for.

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As my husband and I have downsized in preparation to moving to a smaller home for our retirement years, I realize how much I have been guilty of that “more and more” mentality.  As I have given things away to family and friends and sold much on the web, I keep asking myself “why did I think I needed that?”

And, of course, for much of my “stuff” the answer is I did not “need” it, I just “wanted” it.

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While there is certainly nothing wrong with buying something just because I want it, I do think I went way over board in many areas.

I do ask myself what if I had bought less of what I wanted but did not need and gave that money to missions, to the local food pantry, to helping others about me more in need.

“Don’t hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or—worse!—stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it’s safe from moth and rust and burglars. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being.”   Matthew 19:19-21

Looking at my home, my possessions, my credit card statement, my check book I have to ask myself:

Where is my treaure?

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