The Back Side of Summer (and suffering)

As August approaches full bloom, some surprises surface. Just outside our windows, some intrepid morning glories we DID NOT PLANT are all about decorating an old trellis after the clematis has died out for the year. I took the photo from the inside, through the screen, but these beauties are still gorgeous.

Not far away, this upstart sunflower lifts its head to its source. Thank you birds, for planting this one, and Granddaughter Cora for snapping this shot. We’ve noticed how every morning, the blossom turns eastward to greet the morning sun, and by afternoon, has revolved to the other side of our world.

I’ve been thinking a lot about pain lately–so many types to consider. My Texas friends post photos of deep crevasses in their soil because of the horrible drought. Such a heart-rending form of loss. A few weeks ago, a long-time friend of mine passed from this life after a seemingly endlesss battle with cancer.

Another friend faces surgery for breast cancer in two weeks, and another, only 38 years old with an infant and a young child, has entered the same struggle. You all have many other names to add to this list–suffering lurks everywhere around us.

Of course, we’ve all heard how it makes us better people in the long run. Some of us have memorized these promises, claimed them . . . but when sorrow or pain or terrible loss hits us, we may forget their consolation for a time.

To quote R. W. Emerson: Every moment instructs, and every object; for wisdom is infused into every form. It has been poured into us as blood; it convulsed us as pain; it slid into us as pleasure; it enveloped us in dull, melancholy days, or in days of cheerful labor; we did not guess its essence until after long time.

“We did not guess its essence until after long time.” Wisdom coming to us in pain? Sure doesn’t feel like it!

Every single moment instructs us–looking back over some of the worst situations of my life, I know this is true. One recent outstanding circumstance comes to mind–the April night before surgery for my broken femur. Confined to bed, watched over by caring nurses, I “got used to” my new state. And right in the middle of my conjectures, someone’s comment reminded me of all the good that had come my way during the past year.

A sense enveloped me that, based on these past experiences, all would be well this time, too. If my Creator could resolve those long-term struggles, surely this one lay within the reach of grace.

How many times have I traveled this route with one of my characters? A reader wrote me yesterday, asking if I had planned from the beginning for a horrendous loss to strike one of them. No, I hadn’t. As the story progressed, like real life, an almost unbearable grief entered his life–and he grew through the experience.

Just like we do.

Here’s the front side of the morning glories. Some years I’ve tried to transplant them, but they really do much better totally on their own. From the back, the glow of early morning sunshine makes this scene just as pretty. A new perspective…sunshine where we might not have expected it. Beauty poking into our kitchen.

Recently I read this on a FaceBook post, with no author mentioned:

Never regret a day in your life: good days give happiness, bad days give experience, worst days give lessons, and best days give memories.

When pain besets us, this becomes our challenge. Life is hard–yes, that’s true. But life also offers us so much that’s good, both on the front side and the back.

New Year’s 2021-22

During this quiet holiday in Arizona, I’ve been reading posts about the words friends have chosen for 2022. Although I didn’t really seek one, a word came to me the other night when sleep became difficult.

Strength. Ah, this will do. Whatever lies ahead, we’ll need various kinds of strength–energy, mental stamina, physical skill, and emotional steadiness. This, we can count on.

As usual, Lance is taking all sorts of elk and deer photos here, and this one seemed perfect for this post. This little fellow looks a bit like us right now as we await what the new year brings.

Dubious, hopeful, contemplative, puzzled . . . hesitant and frightened. Dare he trust the guy standing on our deck to snap this shot?

Nearly eighty years ago, soldiers in the horrific Battle of the Bulge surely experienced such emotions. We can’t even begin to imagine what they endured or the level of their terror–would the war ever end?

In times like the present, it behooves us to consider other times that required strength and endurance. Still, we may feel somewhat the same. Dare we trust?

Recently, a Ralph W. Emerson quote struck me as appropriate for this season.

“Be not the slave of your own past–plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep, and swim far, so you shall come back with self-respect, with new power, with an advanced experience, that shall explain and overlook the old.”

Another one of his writings applies, too. “All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.”

All that history teaches us, and all we have seen in 2021, instructs us that God’s promise to “be with us in trouble” (Psalm 91:15) stands firm. In spite of expecting more “trouble” ahead, we plunge onward, dive deep, and trust.

A Larger View of Love

February, the “love month”… Our guest this week developed a larger view of love over thirty years ago. Sonia Solomonson shares her experience here. Solomonson, a former religious magazine editor, is a freelance writer/editor and also a life coach who can be found at www.way2growcoaching.com. Perhaps you or someone you know can relate to her story:

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I’m never allowed to forget. Every year, newscasters remember the day the Challenger blew up—32 years ago this past January 28. It also marks the day I was in divorce court.

As I think back to the years leading up to that day in court, I remember the mounting difficulties in my marriage. The first years seemed good, until things changed and I began to realize the high price I was paying for tamping down who I was created to be and letting my pastor husband control me and our life. It took me seven years to build up the courage to make a move, seven years of asking that we go to counseling and seven years of his saying “No.”

I knew no one who had gone through this, and my shame kept me from talking with family or friends. I prayed fervently for answers. I shed many tears through those years. Finally the fear of staying in the relationship was greater than the fear of leaping out on my own. In addition, I had looked into the future and seen myself as an unhappy, beaten-down and bitter old woman. I didn’t much like that picture. I still loved my husband; I just could not live like that anymore.

I’ll be honest: It was frightening, difficult and lonely at times. At times I felt like the cardinal in the photo below: I was skating on ice with no solid ground under me. My image was that of being afloat on a huge ocean with only an empty plastic milk jug to hold me up. It wasn’t until a few years later that I realized that jug was only a prop—and the ocean in which I was afloat was really God’s love holding me up! And I did come out on the other side of the pain—which is why the transformation of caterpillar to cocoon to butterfly is so meaningful to me today.

Now I realize things I didn’t know then. When I read Jeremiah 29:11, I see that God intends good for us all. God doesn’t want us to live in a harmful or diminished situation. “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” God has created each one of us for so much more than what we can imagine. And I wonder if it doesn’t hurt God’s heart when we let our God-given gifts be squelched and put down? When we don’t care for our bodies, our selves and our gifts.

Another verse from Scripture surfaced for me in the post-divorce years, and I realized I’d misunderstood it. In Mark 12:30-31we read, “‘…you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” For years I heard and understood that we should first love God, then love our neighbor; and if there were any love left, love ourselves. But read this carefully: “You shall love your neighbor AS [you love] yourself.” So, if I don’t love myself well, I won’t be able to love my neighbor or “the other” in my life. It is God’s love that allows us to love ourselves and thus, love the others in our lives. And so I trust God every day to teach me how to love and care for myself—and then share that love with others.

I remember worrying at first that self-love was selfish. We women are so wired for relationship, so the biggest challenge for us is not as much selfishness as it is to learn self-love and self-care. That is not to say we women aren’t ever selfish, of course. But most women I meet have a tougher time loving themselves. And so I throw out this challenge to each of you: Live with Mark 12:30-31 and Jeremiah 29:11 and let them settle deeply in your heart. See what difference those verses might make in your life.

Sonia C. Solomonson

February 21, 2018

Playing in the Minor Leagues

Recently I’ve gotten to know Rhoda Preston, my neighbor. Even though she has a lot on her platter, as you’ll see here, she always has a smile for me when she’s working at her desk, and she keeps her door open. 

One commenter here will win a copy of Rhoda’s recently published non-fiction book about the Old Testament Minor Prophets, Playing In The Minor Leagues. The title alone makes me want to read this–and it would also make a good gift for someone interested in the scriptures.  

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The Rev. Dr. Rhoda Preston is a United Methodist pastor, author, and former preschool editor at the United Methodist Publishing House. Her most recent book, Playing in the Minor Leagues: A Look at the Minor Prophets, explores what the twelve Old Testament minor prophets (Hosea through Malachi) can teach us about the essential game of life. How did they address God’s major concerns for the world? How might their insights strike home with us today? Each prophet is presented in easy-to-understand fashion, placing each into historical context, providing in-depth commentary, and showing connections with New Testament Scriptures. Each chapter includes discussion questions for group study. Copies of the book are available on Amazon, in both paperback and Kindle editions. Additional articles on the prophets can be found on her blog, rhodapreston.com, and on her Pinterest page at https://www.pinterest.com/rhodaepreston/playing-in-the-minor-leagues-minor-prophets/.

Several years ago, during the Christmas season—in celebration of the wise men who followed a star to Bethlehem–our congregation introduced the tradition of “Star Gifts.” A Star Gift is simply a paper star with a word written on it. During our worship service, ushers pass Star Gifts to the congregation using our traditional offering plates. Instead of placing something into the offering plate, everyone is invited to reach in and take a star.

“Don’t intentionally choose a star,” we’re told. “Just reach in and grab one. Consider the word on that star to be God’s gift to you for the coming year. Take the Star Gift home and hang it up where you are sure to see it every day. Each time you glance at the star, ponder the significance that word might have in your life, and how God might be speaking to you and guiding you through that word.”

Every star in the offering plate contains a different word. It might be imagination or strength, courage or forgiveness, honesty or flexibility, integrity, humor, humility, hopefulness, peace….

Since I serve as the pastor of two separate congregations, I received two Star Gifts this past year. One said “Listening.” The other said “Helping.” I took the stars to my office, posted them on my bulletin board, right next to my calendar. Each morning I pray: “Lord, in everything I do today, give me a listening heart and helping hands. For You are a God who listens and helps, and I want to follow You.”

Sometimes my schedule can get so busy, so hectic. And when folks stop by my office, I may seem pre-occupied. “I hate to bother you…” they’ll say. And that’s when I realize: it’s time to stop what I’m doing and give this person my full attention. It’s time to listen carefully, and to help as best I can. God doesn’t want me to treat people as interruptions. God has given me the gift of just enough time, and the ability to make a difference. And I am so grateful, Wise and Generous God, for that gift!

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You can enjoy more of Rhoda’s writing at her blog, rhodapreston.com

 

 

 

Glories

I’ve never had much luck with morning glories, but this year, decided to try again. Wow … it’s struck me how extremely fragile they are–yet many consider them a weed.

IMG_3856These didn’t bloom until the second week of September, but take a look…their periwinkle hue is So beautiful! In this photo of my husband’s, you can see how transparent the blossoms are…talk about delicate.

 

They burst open in the morning, but around noon, start to close up, and by mid-afternoon, you’d never know they’d shared their color with the world.

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Contemplating these gorgeous flowers’ short-lived blooming time set me to thinking of parallels. The most obvious, perhaps, is my faith. Though I’d rather it be constant, full-blossomed all the time, and reliable, reality says otherwise.

I waited all summer for these blossoms to show their glory, and truly appreciated them when they finally appeared. Not like steadfast marigolds that keep blooming the entire season, these frail lovelies can make their appearance and fade before you get a chance to observe.

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Still, they’re beautiful, if only in fits and starts. And all this reminds me of another fact: normal standards fall short when measuring worth.

Those who seem weakest may make a huge difference in small and seemingly insignificant ways. My World War II research overflows with people who tended their posts, no matter how mundane. No setting the world on fire, but still a certain glory in making a contribution.

My characters are like this, everyday folks intent on doing their best. One of them recently told me I’m not finished with her story, even if I thought I’d reach The End. No, she wants to contribute more, desires to make a greater sacrifice for the war effort.

Back to the drawing board … here’s hoping the result will enhance her story. And during the rainy, overcast day while I worked on that plot, guess what happened? More glories, multicolored!

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This morning, a nifty anonymous quote appeared on my teabag- thank you, whoever came up with this:

                  The ones who say, “You can’t” and “you won’t”

                  are probably the ones scared that you will.

 

 

Will this little house wren move into our rather dilapidated offering?

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Will this American tree sparrow father a healthy brood of chicks this summer?

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Will my poor tulips make it through the cold spell we’ve been having?

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And this early butterfly, will it …” I’ll let you think of a question about this delicate creature.

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And what about us? Will we take the plunge to submit our writing for publication? Will we go through with our plan simplify our lifestyle?

Will we … what ever decisions we face, chances are some naysayers exist. Mine live mostly in my own heart, so I’ve had to learn to ignore them. I used to hope they’d magically disappear, but that hasn’t happened in the past six decades, so I doubt it will.

Today, we’re attending our nephew’s high school graduation party. He’s such a cool young man – I hope he moves ahead through life with confidence and positivity.

Ignoring those who say we can’t or won’t–a good resolution to make as spring bursts into summer!

 

The Calling of Ella McFarland

Now, there’s a title! Calling carries several connotations, and Ella’s cover photograph entices me, too. As the 2014 winner of the Jerry B. Jenkins Operation First Novel award, The Calling of Ella McFarland by Linda Brooks Davis, debuted on December 1, 2015.

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Linda set this romantic historical set in 1905 Indian Territory, when women were silenced in public and often stifled at home, when illiteracy ran rampant and women could not participate in their governance. As  compulsory education, woman’s suffrage, and temperance debates rage, Ella Jane McFarland pursues her dream: a teaching position at prestigious Worthington School for Girls.

But scandal clouds her family name and may limit her to grueling labor on her family’s Indian Territory farm. Her fate lies in the hands of the male Worthington board. Will they overlook the illegitimate son recently borne by her sister
Viola? Might handsome Mr. Evans help her reach her dream?

As hope of Oklahoma statehood rises and the citizens anticipate a new state constitution, Ella comes to the rescue of a young, abused sharecropper’s daughter. Forced to make decisions about her faith, family, and aspirations, her calling takes shape in ways she never imagined.

With a new love budding in her heart, can Ella find God’s will amid the tumultuous storm that surrounds her?

This family-and-faith story explores one woman’s devotion to a serendipitous calling, the transforming effect of unlikely friendship, and the healing power of love.

 LInda, I’m hooked! Please tell us why you wrote this book. 

My Indian Territory grandmother and Oklahoma mother lived lives rife with hardship, trial, and grief. Rather than weakening them, such experiences empowered them and strengthened their faith.

My grandmother Ella Jane—Mama to me—had a 3rd grade education. She never drove a car, but could handle a team of mules just fine. She never shopped for the latest fashion, but sewed up a dress in a day. She never considered the benefits of tile over wood laminate, but made a home in a corner of a barn. She swept the dirt floor. She never worked outside her home, except in a cotton patch, picking 100 pounds a day. Mama buried 2 husbands and 5 daughters but never lost her faith.

My mother progressed only to 9th grade, and accepted nothing less than a college education for her children. Nor would she depend on a man to do something she could do herself. Mother buried a son, tended an ailing husband for 10 grueling years, and battled the weather and creditors to save the family farm, yet never blamed God.

I consider my ancestors’ stories treasures of which I am a steward. Hence, The Calling of Ella McFarland. While not the actual life story of any family member, this debut novel is saturated in reality. The writing represents my love and high esteem for two strong matriarchs, and reflects my longing for my granddaughter–also named Ella Jane–to believe in herself as a daughter of the King of Heaven and to cast herself upon the mercies of God to hold her up, make her strong, and give her His purpose.

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Thanks so much, Linda–you’ve piqued my interest. Please make a note in your comment that you’re willing to write a review, and Linda will provide you an e-book.

Purchase links: http://bit.ly/1NqmYtF

Email: linda@lindabrooksdavis.com

Website: http://lindabrooksdavis.com

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