Beauty in Barrenness

Even in death there is the beauty of life just waiting to burst forth. The seed is in the ground and it appears that death is everywhere. Life has ceased and dust covers all. But in that darkness, in that barrenness, there is beauty. It is the beauty of surrender; of trusting; of knowing that He is still in control; that life will begin anew.

Jesus is the seed of God the Father, placed in this world to die and reproduce. We are His reproductions.

^{Matthew 27: 35} And they crucified him, and parted his garments, casting lots: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, They parted my garments among them, and upon my vesture did they cast lots.

⁴⁵ Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour.

Winter is cold and drab. The sky is often cloudy and dreary. We see brown sticks where lively green tress once were. The flowers from last season are all gone, leaving no evidence they will bloom again. But the beauty is that beneath the earth, in the darkness, in the the quietness of our soul, these tiny bulbs are drawing nutrients from the soil in preparation for a new season.

Matthew 27:59 And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth,

⁶⁰ And laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock: and he rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.

The winters of our life are a quiet place where nothing seems to be happening; it is a place of death. But that death is beautiful because it will usher in new life. 

I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. John 12:24


Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. Psm 116:15. 

In times of barrenness we wait with expectancy and prayer until the Lord comes and brings new life.

Sing and rejoice, O daughter of Zion; for, lo, I come, and I will dwell in the midst of thee, saith the Lord. Zechariah 2:9-11

^{Matthew 28:2} And, behold, there was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it.

⁶ He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.

⁷ And go quickly, and tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead; and, behold, he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see him: lo, I have told you.

There is resurrection power in our lives as well.

¹¹ But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you.

Hang on Sloopy - springtime is close! 

Awesome Aunt Agnes

This past Sunday we celebrated the life of my Aunt Agnes. It was a bittersweet day with memories of the past alongside celebrations that she is safely home with her Lord. Isn't that always the case? Good for the one gone on but not good at all for those of us left behind. We miss her smile, that twinkle in her eyes, her gentle ways, her love.




This morning I was thinking over all the things she taught me: everything from how to apply makeup to how to peel a boiled egg. Start with the big end where the pocket it - it works every time. But, more than what she taught me was the example she lived before me. I remember the summers she paid me to come and play with my cousins. Seriously, she did just that. They were only a couple of years younger than me but she paid me to come and stay at their house every day during the summer. I thought it was a big time job but looking back I suspect she did that to keep me from having to stay home alone all summer.

My mom worked about a mile from their house so I would ride to work in the carpool with Mom. The plan was for me to walk the mile down to their house in the morning; no big deal for a twelve year old girl. The problem was the dog. He lived on the way and I had a big issue with dogs. So, Aunt Agnes stopped mid-way of preparing for her work day and drove up to meet me every morning. That dog wasn't going to hurt me, but she knew I was scared. That is how she was; quietly giving of herself. It may seem like a small thing, but to me at twelve years old it was huge.

Aunt Agnes was one of five aunts on my mom's side of the family. They were all great in their own ways, but during my childhood, she was the most hands on. I guess you could say she was 'user-friendly.' She and my uncle often visited us and it was always a happening because they were so much fun to have around. I am sorry I didn't take the time to sit and tell her and Uncle Jr how much they mean to me; that they have been two pillars in my life for as long as I can remember. That they have always encouraged me and loved me, even in my worst of times. But one day, she and I will hook arms and take a walkabout in Heaven where I will reveal all my heart thoughts to her.

I realize that in the busyness of today's world, families are not always as close as they were when I was a child. The Sunday trip to Grandma's house doesn't happen as often as before. You know, those Sunday afternoons when the grownups sat around in chairs outside and talked and laughed and ate good food while the kids ran around playing silly games and establishing clubs and forts. There was an acceptance and a freedom in knowing we were much loved. Cousins were in a class all their own and it did not matter the age difference, we all had something in common: we were family.  Of course that did not mean we were free to act anyway we wanted to. Nope, Mama Sosebee was quick to keep us in line at her house. But to me, that is just one more indication of her love for us.

Mother once told me that in all the years they were together as a family, she never heard one of my aunts have harsh words with another. And in turn, I never heard my mom say anything negative or critical about any of them. I, personally, find that amazing. The bond of love and friendship was birthed in God and showed in their everyday lives. That is the core of what they have taught me. Unconditional love; commitment to family; concern for the lives of others; and being there. Always being there. There is strength in a family that stays true to God and to each other.

I pray today that I can be hands on and user friendly to those God has placed in my life, that His love will be free to flow through me.  His love surpasses all hurt, offense, wounds and grief. Today my prayer is for my Uncle Jr and his family; that God's love and comfort will reach deep into their spirits and bring His peace.

The Promise

It is very quiet and peaceful this morning. Looking out our bay window I see a sunny sky for the first time in a few days. Just staring at that soft blue sky with a fluffy white cloud here and there brings a calmness. I'm content to sit and drink in God's gift to me this morning; another beautiful day filled with His love. His handiwork is all around me, in the beauty of nature.

There is a little drama playing out in our backyard; one we see every year about this time. The trees are all barren and brown. Long spindly pines have a few green needles here and there but they are mostly at the top of their skinny trunks. The hardwoods are void of any foliage.  They are brown and empty. Row after row of barrenness, as far as I can see. The trees reach up to the sky as if they are pleading to be released into new life. The grass is brown as well with a few muddy circles here and there left over from the recent rains. Overall its a drab scene.

Right in the middle of all this barrenness is a yellow bell bush in full bloom. It's tiny yellow leaves are standing at attention, reaching up and capturing all the rays of the sun and reflecting them back into its surroundings. I love this bush and its message to me that spring is so very close. Every year I watch for it's blooming as a sign that new life is about to explode.

A few weeks from now when everything around it has burst forth, the yellow bell bush will barely be noticed. It's yellow leaves will turn green and it will blend in with its surroundings. But today, this week, is it's time to shine. This little bush has a purpose, a command to herald the beginning of a new season. When everything around it is still asleep and barren, this little bush is shining, alive and bright. 

I'm sure the little bush thinks he is all alone out there, listening to the Master's command to come forth, but little does he know that in the front yard there are yellow flowers blooming as well. They too are heralding the beginning of a new season and they too will blend in with the new colors in a few weeks. But they and the bush will have done their job. They have notified us that change is coming. Time to get out a new wardrobe, don new shoes and walk forth into spring. 

Thank you, God for the seasons in our lives, both in the natural and in the spiritual. You never leave us barren and drab but always there is a springtime. Even in the most dreary winters, there is the promise of spring. Thank you for the centennials who stand strong and point the way to new life, even when they feel all alone. We move from glory to glory on the wings of your love. 

Thank You For Your Service, Sir

This weekend, Royce and I drove to FL for our annual family reunion. It was around noon on Friday when we stopped to eat before helping with the set up for Saturday's festivities. One of our favorite places to eat in Webster is at the Farmer's Market Cafe where they serve home cooked food. They have the best fried chicken and fresh peas and beans ... and banana puddin'!

Royce and I were waiting in the rockers on the front porch enjoying the crisp, sunny FL air with an old friend when an elderly couple came up. The man walked slowly with two canes while she followed with one cane. They were typical of older people who have learned to manage as their bodies begin to slow down but Royce's friend explained what was special about this couple. He was a veteran of World War II and had been injured at Iwa Jima.

He was 17 when he joined the Marines and was sent to Iwa Jima where he had his knee cap blown off and had walked with assistance since.

We said goodbye to our friend and went inside to eat. We were seated right next to the couple and as we listened to their conversation we noticed the gentleness and joy in their countenance and their words. People spoke and smiled and this sweet old man responded with the grace of the elderly.

We wanted to pay their check, but before we could, the waitress came over to their table to say that someone had paid for their lunch. The retired Marine was confused as to why someone would do that.

Over at the register stood this tall, robust cowboy. He wore working jeans, really cool rugged boots, an obviously much used work jacket and a rather large cowboy hat.  He was not a showroom kinda cowboy but an honest-to-goodness hard working guy, probably 6'4" and obviously very strong and capable. The type guy you want on your team.  He turned around from the cash register and walked to the couple, tipped his hat to the Marine, then in a deep Sam Elliott type voice softened with respect, he said:

"Thank you for your service to our country, Sir."

Yep, Royce and I are tearing up. Then to the wife he tips his hat again, takes her hand and says in a gently resounding voice, "thank you m'am." As he walked away he laid a hand on the Marine's shoulder and said, "God bless you, Sir."

That was all. No big show or long talk. Nothing showy or loud, just an honest thank you from a young man to an old one.

Tears are now running down our cheeks but there was more. When the waitress came to clear their table the Marine handed her an obviously large tip which she tried to refuse. His reply: "No ma'm. This man has been kind to us and we need to spread it around."  Like his new friend, no big show, just an honest desire to pass on a blessing.

By now I am a mess and my lunch is just sitting on my plate getting cold. We got a chance to talk for a bit with the Marine  and say our thanks. He could not stop thanking us. How amazing that this kind and gentle man in his 80's or 90's, who had given much for all of us had such a thankful heart. No grudges, no animosity, no complaining - only a heart to bless others.

I am certain there are many of all ages with that same attitude, but Friday morning was a reminder to us of the gentleness that once graced our country as a whole. Simple things like respecting our elders; loving our neighbors; showing honor to whom honor is due and loving with grace are all standards that God has placed in the hearts of His children. In Webster, FL, as well as towns big and small all over America, people still hold to those values. It's like an underground army strong in Him, marching to His beat.

It would be nice if I had taken a photo to post with this blog; or even had I asked the Marine's name; but the moment was too intimate to sensationalize it. Instead I have this memory in my heart and I pray that somehow we can all grasp the importance of this simple encounter.

We moved on to setting up tables and chairs and putting out flowers and all the paraphernalia necessary for a family reunion. We were busy with life's routines, but in my heart I had a new friend. I believe that one day I will stand in Heaven and hear his name and I will know this dear man. Thank you Jesus for kindness.

God bless America and all He has placed within our borders. We are blessed beyond words.

^{Galations 5:22} But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,

²³ Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.

Teardrops in the Light

This morning I spent a couple of hours shut up in my bedroom sipping on coffee while I cried my way through a Hallmark movie. The Christmas Cottage was, "inspired by actual events" in Thomas Kinkade's early life. We all know that "inspired by actual events"  leaves a lot of room for the writer's imagination, but this morning I chose to believe that the main points of the movie were absolutely true!

The story was actually written in honor of one of Thomas Kinkaid's mentors. Peter O'Toole portrays the mentor, Glen Weissler. The movie is set in 1977 during Christmas break when Thomas and his brother, Pat come home to find mom in financial trouble. Right away, it had me because these two young men were willing to put their lives aside to help mom. According to my limited research, that part of the movie is true and was the stepping stone to Kinkad's career as an artist.

Glen was an elderly gentleman who had a studio home on the edge of their property and over the years he and Thomas had become close. At the point of the movie, Thomas Kinkade had not yet become the "Painter of Light" as we know him today. His work was described as good drawings, but lacking heart.

In 1977, Glen Weissler was very old and plagued with crippling arthritis. Every time Thomas visited Glen, he would encourage the old artist to paint just one more time. This was next to impossible due to arthritis that had deformed Glen's hands. Still, over and over, Thomas and the rest of the cast insisted that he paint again. I felt really bad for the old guy and wanted to tell them to leave him alone. He was obviously close to death; let him die in peace already. But, that would not have been nearly so wonderful an ending.

You see, Glen did have one more painting in him.  Even with his hands deformed and  losing his grip on reality, the old artist had not yet fulfilled the last of his calling on this earth. He had been struggling with how to create on canvas a memorial to someone he loved. Over and over he tried to paint his pain, but it never satisfied him.

One evening Thomas goes to him and in tears thanks him for his friendship and help and pleads with him not to give up. He then lights a small candle and leaves it on the table. After he leaves, Glen, inspired by the small flame,  picks up his brush and creates one last masterpiece.

Of course the next day is Christmas and the old man trudges through the snow all the way to the Kinkad cottage (OK, this part of the story is probably imagination, but it certainly brought more tears.).
He came to give this last work of art to the Kinkad family as a Christmas gift. The piece was a beautiful painting of fall leaves with the brilliance of the sky and the light flooding through. And then, with a gnarled  arthritic hand he reached up and rubbed Thomas cheek and told him:

"Paint the light, Thomas, paint the light."

The old artist goes on to explain that leaves grow and become green and then turn colors and finally fall away. But the light .... the light is always there. Paint the light! He encouraged Thomas to look at the light and not the dark.

Thomas Kinkad went on to become known as  the "Painter of Light." For years his paintings warmed and inspired the hearts of many people, including me. That revelation was dropped in his heart at the beginning of his career by someone who was only days away from going home. I find that incredibly encouraging.

Glen was old. He was weak and dying. Many days he could not talk intelligently. And yet, in that state, he was able to receive a revelation of light and pass it along to the next generation.

As long as we have breath, we have something to give.

Every good and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is n o variableness, neither shadow of turning. James 1:17

Are You My Daddy?

Susanna fidgeted as she sat on the long wooden bench outside the train depot. It had been a long day; one she would never forget. The events of the past few hours were engrained on her heart and mind with deep crevices running all through her person. Adopted. After waiting so long for a real parent, someone had come and asked to take her. The strangest part was that she never even saw them.

For as long as she could remember she had lived with others who were without parents also. The lifestyle was a hard one with many bosses and much work to do. Susanna had tried to be obedient but many times she was harshly disciplined for even the smallest mistake. Oh, some of the people there were nice and tried to help but they were not her real parents, she could never forget that. It ate at her deep inside. In the night she would lie awake and ponder her situation, wondering who her real daddy was and why she had to live with all these other lost children. It was strange; she had no memory of her life before this place. She had never met her daddy but deep inside she knew he was not dead like they told her. She just knew it!

And then early one morning, right about the time the first bird of the day began his song outside her window, right before she had to start her day, right about that time, someone she had never seen before came to tell her that things were changing. Susanna had looked around to see if any of the other girls were awake but she was the only one. The messenger instructed her to get up and dress and follow him. Susanna’s real father was calling for her.

And now, here she was, sitting on this long wooden bench after an exciting train ride through the early morning hours. Susanna had no idea who had paid her ticket and bought her food, but all was taken care of and she had travelled very comfortably. Time ticked away and she tried ever so hard to be patient but the suspense was unnerving. What would her new life be like? Would there be a lot of work to be done like she was accustomed to? Or would she be spoiled like the little girls she had seen with their mommies in the stores? Girls who pouted and fussed over the smallest details.

Susanna did not think she would like being spoiled, at least not for long. But a little while might be fun. Just to see what it felt like. Mostly though she just wanted to meet her daddy. She wanted to sit in his lap and listen to him tell her stories. Work did not bother her as long as she could finally meet her real daddy.

The day wore on and Susanna began to feel tired and a tad hungry. She watched the other passengers being met and taken away one by one and still no one came for her. Was this some sort of cruel joke? Surely not! She had been so hopeful that her time in the orphanage was finally over. Susanna fidgeted and watched the birds flitting through the branches overhead. The tree was extra beautiful to her today. Most likely it had stood over the depot for many years, shading those who waited here. Susanna thought about climbing that tree, wondering how the view would be from up high.  After a while she grew tired of that imagination and looked around for something else to occupy her anxious mind.

She found that if she would close her eyes very tightly and listen she could almost tell whether it was a man or a woman walking behind her. That distraction did not last long though since there were few people about. The bench was carved here and there with initials, but Susanna had nothing to carve with.

The sun rose higher in the sky and began peeking through the branches, warming her back and bringing a peaceful comfort deep inside. Maybe she would close her eyes for just a minute. Susanna was accustomed to rising early and working, cleaning, obeying the bosses in whatever they instructed her to do. She did not have free time to just sit during the day. Always there was work to be done.

Susanna let her mind wander back to the messenger who had brought her out of the orphanage. He was kind and gentle and she had immediately trusted him, even though he was a large man and very strong. She had felt his muscles when he picked her up and sat her on the train steps. After that he had stood close by all during the train ride, protecting her – from what she was not sure, but she was surely glad he was there. And then, when she arrived here she could not find him although she somehow sensed he was close by.

Susanna was getting tired of waiting, but she wasn’t afraid. The adventure had captivated her heart and she was ready for whomever or whatever came next. Across the train track she spied an open field with wildflowers growing everywhere. Oranges, reds, even browns that were more beautiful than any she had seen. Why had she not noticed them earlier? Susanna wanted to run through and pick a big bouquet for her new daddy, but the messenger had told her to wait here, so wait she would. Deep inside she knew something wonderful was coming; something more awesome than she had ever experienced. And so she was determined to wait. Squirming, shifting, and straining to see down the road that ran alongside the track, her body fairly shook with anticipation but she kept herself glued to the bench. Waiting…

Actually, waiting was more difficult than working back at the orphanage. By now the other girls would be cleaning the floors and dusting the furniture. There would be the sound of others outside sawing and nailing;  building, there was always building. Susanna had often wondered why so many came to live at the orphanage when the lifestyle there was so difficult. Occasionally a few would leave but mostly they just came and stayed and worked. And worked. Truthfully though, she would not mind a little work right now. It would be easier than just sitting here.

Sighing, Susanna lay back against the warm bench and let the midday breeze wash over her. Slowly she drifted into a peaceful sleep. Visions of her new home and her new daddy filled her dreams. The day went on around her with trains coming and going, passengers arriving and leaving with their loved ones, until gradually all activity came to a stop. Suddenly Susanna sat straight up. How long had she slept? The depot was deserted and quiet.

Susanna’s heart sank. Had she missed her meeting with her daddy? Had he come and found her asleep and merely walked away without her? Her throat closed up and her chest ached so badly she could barely breathe. Tears filled her eyes as she stood and slowly looked around.

And then she saw him. He was standing just a little ways off, watching her intently. But, this was a young man, not old enough to be her daddy. For a moment they stared at each other and she found his eyes to be the most beautiful she had ever seen. They were strangely familiar. Perhaps he was related to the messenger who had brought her out of the orphanage. Either way, his eyes were mesmerizing. Looking into them, Susanna realized he knew everything there was to know about her. Her heart relaxed in his gaze and snuggled down into the warmth she found there. After a few moments, the young man stepped toward her.

Susanna dropped her head. “I thought I had missed you,” she whispered.

His reply came in a whisper also, “Dear Susanna. I have been watching you rest; waiting for you to wake up. Do you think I have waited all these years for you, just to leave you while you were napping? Your Father understands you sometimes need rest.”

Then, gently, ever so gently, he took her hand. Not knowing what was happening, but trusting him completely, she placed her hand in his. “Are you my new daddy?” she asked. And then he smiled.  His smile had the same effect on her as his gaze had earlier. She could trust this man.

“No,” he replied, “but I will take you to meet him.” Nodding, she fell into step alongside him.

“Who are you then?” she asked.

“I am your brother. And I will always be with you. From this point forward I will never leave your side.”

Susanna was engulfed in the security of his voice and knew deep in her heart that he was telling her the absolute truth. Oh, if only her new daddy was going to be this wonderful. As if he could read her mind, the young man spoke again.

“You do not need to worry, Susanna, our Father is exactly like me. Actually, most people say if you’ve seen me, you’ve seen him.”

Suzanna stretched and slowly opened her eyes to her surroundings. How strange it was to dream about her time years ago when her new Father first called her out of the orphanage. It had been a long and exciting adventure since then, and yet, in her dream it seemed like she was walking through it all over again. Perhaps it was because she was in such a place of change right now. After all this time, she should know to trust her daddy and believe that he was taking care of things, but this latest change in her life had brought many questions tumbling back into her heart. Oh, not questions about his care, but questions about her ability to hear and understand his directions.

 “I suppose,” she mumbled to herself,” that somewhere deep inside, I am still that little girl waiting not so patiently on the wooden bench outside the train depot.” 

Suzanna's travels continue...

It's time to stand up and be counted.