Seize the Day

It's hard to believe that another year has come and gone, and a new year is beginning. I believe there is great truth that as I age, time seems to pass more quickly. Perhaps more important, however, is that as I age, the minutes and hours and days and months and years become even more precious to me. I am so much more aware of the time that God has given me and the need to use that time wisely and for His glory and honor.

Perhaps because I celebrated my 50th birthday on December 26, I find myself being rather introspective as this new year begins. I awoke this morning thinking of the blessings that my 50 years of life have seen ... three amazing and wonderful young adult children who, in spite of being raised by a single mother, are happy, productive, achieving, intelligent, loving, caring, giving and compassionate people. I have a daughter-in-law who loves my son with every fiber of her being, loves me like a mother, fits in our family like a hand in a glove and is an awesome person in her own right. I have a job that provides for my needs, a growing speaking ministry, friends who are loyal, honest and true, an incredible church family, and health that is improving with each passing day.

So, as this new year rolls in, I recognize that I haven't a clue as to what it may bring. I also recognize that though I don't know what the future holds, I do know Who holds my future. It is that knowledge that keeps me, that envelops me, that surrounds me ... it is that knowledge that makes me know that all things, whatever they may be, work together for good for those who love and serve God.

My resolutions this new year? To love God with all my heart and soul and mind, to be the servant that He calls me to be, to honor and love the people on the journey with me, and to make the most of every single moment that I am given.

Happy New Year, and remember to seize the day with gusto!

Back in Time

A couple of Sundays ago, while visiting my hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee, I attended the church I grew up in for the first time in over 30 years. As I pulled into the parking lot, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, and as I waited for an old friend to arrive, my mind drifted back to my childhood and teen years. So much of my life at that time revolved around this little Southern Baptist church and the people and personalities that came and went through the years.

Walking into the church with my friend was like stepping back in time ... not much had changed at the church in 30 years. The sanctuary looked basically the same, and my friend took me through the back halls and classrooms where we had sat in Sunday School for so many years. I met the pastor who told me that people often spoke of my dad and the legacy he had left at the church.

I was excited to see people I had not seen for many years, but as the choir filed in, I never expected the emotion that engulfed me. Some of the men that my dad always sat with in the choir still occupied their same spots, and I could just picture Daddy sitting there and I could hear his sweet tenor voice. I could see Mom sitting in her "spot" ... she always sat on the right side of the sanctuary, about halfway up the aisle.

Tears filled my eyes and spilled over my face ... the memories that washed over me were almost too much to bear. After the service, there were more tears, both my own and those from others, as people from my past embraced me and welcomed me and invited me to come back again. Hearing stories about my parents and seeing those friends of Mom and Dad who are now elderly and feeble was humbling and bittersweet.

I left the church that morning touched to the very depth of my soul and so very thankful for the legacy of faith that my parents passed on to me. Their commitment to God and to His church and His people was real and true and lasting. They were amazing people, my mom and dad, and their love continues to bless me even years after their passing.

So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for raising me in church, for teaching me about God and His word, for trusting that I would eventually find my way to Him, and for the countless ways you loved me in spite of myself. And thank you, Alpine Baptist Church, for allowing me to be a part of you once again on a rainy Sunday in November.

Friendship Shopping

So what was your first thought when you read the title of this blog entry? "Oh, poor gal, she's looking for a friend." Or maybe, "Is she fed up with her current friends and ready to search for new ones?" Or even, "Man, she's got nerve to announce that she's shopping for friends!" Quite the opposite, actually.

Last Friday, I had to stop on my way home from work and purchase office supplies for my company at Sam's Warehouse. I needed to go two weeks ago, and I had managed to put it off. You see, I really dislike shopping, even when I'm spending someone else's money (as is the case when I purchase items for work). I seriously would order everything online that I need if I could and have it delivered to my front door. So, stopping on a Friday evening and shopping with the other thousands of people who were present is a true testament to my willingness to go the extra mile for my job.

As I was wandering up and down the aisles trying to find the things I needed to purchase, I became more and more frustrated with each passing minute. Too many people, too many items I couldn't find, too many reasons to run for home. And then, in an instant, everything changed. As I stood gazing at the aluminum foil, a sweet Southern accent filled the air. A voice that made me feel at home, comfortable and loved. I turned my head and saw my former neighbors, Cindy and Perry, and as always happens when I see them, my heart filled with warmth and happiness. They are Kansas City transplants like me, being born and raised in Arkansas.

I truly believe that Cindy and Perry are two of the finest people to walk this earth, and I've always considered myself immensely blessed that God placed them in my life. They stood behind me through my long and difficult divorce, and they were there for my children and me in the years that followed. They helped me in ways that I'm sure they aren't even aware of, from Perry teaching Matt to shave to Cindy watching my children so that I could get out of the house for a much-needed break. As my Daddy used to say, "They are just good people, salt of the earth, they are."

Calling out, "Hey!" as all true Southerners know is the only real form of acceptable greeting, we hugged and began to talk. As we stood and chatted about Perry's recent retirement, our children, their grandchildren, my book, gardening, work and all sorts of other things, I found myself happy and thankful for this divine appointment right in the middle of Sam's. My recent fuming and fussing about shopping and how much I disliked the experience turned into a time of laughter and love and friendship.

I hope I learned a lesson last Friday ... that joy in life can come in the most unexpected places if I'm willing to look for it. It doesn't have to be some spectacular event or production that imparts that joy; it can be a chance encounter in front of the aluminum foil at Sam's. It really can.

Yummmm

A friend mentioned to me yesterday how much she enjoyed dining with me because, in her words, “You truly enjoy eating and savor every bite.” Yes, I do enjoy eating, as is obvious by my need to shed several pounds. But what I truly enjoy about eating is sharing meals with my family and friends.

There is something special about gathering around a table and breaking bread with people I love and care about. There are so many wonderful memories from meals throughout the years that are stored deep in my heart. Meals when my children talked about their days at school or their girlfriends or boyfriends. Lunches with my siblings when Dad was dying from Alzheimer’s disease. Friday-evening dinners with Mom during the last six weeks of her life. Breakfasts on Saturday mornings with friends so near and dear to me.

Last night, I had dinner at an Italian restaurant with my daughter and our good friend Ruth. To describe Ruth would take a book … she’s one of the most remarkable ladies I’ve ever known … strong, determined, powerful, and at the same time, loving, gracious, and generous. I’ve known Ruth for over 10 years, and she is a precious part of my life and the lives of my children.

As Meghann, Ruth and I chatted last night at dinner, several times I had to fight back the tears as we talked about Ruth’s husband, Virgil, who passed away last summer. Everyone who knew Virgil loved him, and he is deeply missed by many whose lives he touched. But the one who misses him the most, who loved him the most, who shared over 50 years of marriage with him, is Ruth. Gazing across the table at Ruth as she spoke of him, I was amazed once again at her strength and determination to go on, to now live her life with her lifelong companion no longer by her side.

Tucking the memory of last night’s dinner into the folder in my heart labeled, “Meals to Remember,” I ponder the bonds formed, memories made and blessings shared when loved ones gather to share a meal. I am reminded that the last meal Jesus shared with His closest friends carried with it instructions for remembering, for blessings and for establishing bonds, with Him and with our friends and family as we share in communion.

“While they were eating, He took some bread, and after a blessing He broke it, and gave it to them, and said, ‘Take it, this is My body.’ And when He had taken a cup and given thanks, He gave it to them, and they all drank from it. And He said to them, ‘This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.’”

Mark 14: 22-24