Silly, middle-aged couple

They sat three rows in front of us. It was hard not to notice them, all huggy-touchy-smiley. I tried not to stare—a middle-aged couple so wrapped up in each other they were oblivious to the world around them. I had first noticed them when they passed our row, his hand lightly touching the small of her back as they walked, her allowing him to lead the way. When they sat, shoulders touching and heads tilted slightly inward, there was an invisible aura that, could it be seen, would have sparkled and glowed a warm blue—or pink—or silver. They talked, eyes gazing into eyes, and hanging on to each other’s words with the greatest attention. Smiles and giggles permeated their conversation.

Seemed silly for someone their age. The cynic in me says they are probably dating or newly married, yet…I am jealous! We were once like that, as we dated and lived in early matrimonial bliss. What happened? Oh, I know the pat answers but does it have to be so? Where is the tenderness, the pure joy of each other’s presence, the undivided attention? I have no doubt about our abiding love for each other but am I being hopelessly, unrealistically, romantic to think it could be that way again? Too much water under the bridge, you say? Well, let’s buy that sunfish and sail those waters with only the sun, the wind, and each other.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven...

Heels over Head

One of my fondest childhood memories recalls summer evenings, turning cartwheels in my front yard for hours on end. The smells of warm earth and Carolina pine perfumed the air as hot, humid afternoons turned into hot, humid evenings.


Fireflies filled the audience, bullfrogs sang the opening anthem, and the moon and stars provided spotlights as I entered my stage.

The rush of adrenaline as my arms shot in the air...

The hop as I leaned back on my left leg, kicking up my right…

The bend and downward motion followed by open palms stroking

solid ground as “up” became “down” and “down” became

up” for a split second…

Going heels-over-head gave me the sense that I controlled time and space. I could be satisfied only by total exhaustion. As dusk turned to dark, Mom called me to come inside. I grudgingly went, pushing aside my addiction, comforted in knowing that tomorrow would bring hours of opportunity to satisfy this passion to flip.

What was so special about these “sideways” somersaults? More than just a simple childish activity, cartwheels signified mastery of my body and, in a small way, mastery of my universe. Gravity and human anatomy insisted, “Stand upright! Keep your feet on the ground!” but deep inside a voice cried, “Fly.” Like Wilbur and Orville, I was obsessed with defying natural law.

Specialists know that babies crawl, then walk, then run, in the normal pattern of human development. Surely, turning cartwheels lies somewhere further down that same continuum.

I’ll never forget one cartwheel I turned. Home from college for the weekend, I went out to the front yard with my younger brother. I struck the pose, clowning around, and without hesitation took off for the spin. As my body lifted in the air, something felt wrong and I landed with a “thud.” Shocked that I had failed, I tried again, without success. I went inside, humbled, yet assuring myself that it was just a bad day and I would try again tomorrow. After all, it had been months since I’d attempted such a feat.

When I awoke the next morning, my arms, legs, and back ached. It dawned on me these pains resulted from the failed cartwheels. Then and there, I had my first glimpse of the Grim Reaper. At eighteen years of age, no longer could I do the things that came so easily as a child. What was next? My love of bicycling, the thrill of climbing trees, the joy of jumping rope?

Now, I’m in my 50's (Wow, that’s hard to believe when I see it in print!) Is my glass half empty or half full? One positive thing about being this age is I don’t feel I have to prove anything to anyone. I’m fairly content. Yet, I wonder… can I still turn a cartwheel?

The sensible mother and grandmother in me chides, “You’ll be sorry—and look foolish, too.” The risk-taker-woman in me prods, “Go for it—but stretch for one hour beforehand, pad yourself, pad the ground, and make sure no one is looking.”

My inner child squeals, “Fly!”

I just might.

Empty Nest Musing #2 Is the Grocery Cart Half-empty of Half-full?

Oh, WOW! After 31 years of grocery shopping for the family, buying food for only two (Rob and me) threw me into a state of confusion and gave me a mini-panic attack.  I reached for items in my semi-conscious, habit-driven grocery shopping state, placed them in the buggy--then, suddenly realized I didn't need them anymore. OR, I shook my head in disbelief as I grasped the truth that Rob and I, alone, would take a year to eat all that! I bet I put 10 items into my cart, only to take them out and re-place them on their shelves. Tears came, again, but it didn't take long for me to appreciate the GOOD things about this new stage of grocery shopping. I can buy healthier food--without the threat of persecution from the kids when I arrive home. Boundless numbers of new recipes await my experimentation--again, without threat of persecution at home. The grocery bill is less, much less (of course, major $$$ are going to WKU to feed Philip).
Distributors don't have singles or couples in mind when they package items. Our crackers have gone stale and some fruit over-ripened. I am learning to buy less of these things and go back to the store more often. Cooking is difficult, too. I can't seem to adjust our favorite family recipes to feed two. So, I am making the full recipes and freezing half. Bonus! What joy it is to go to the freezer and find that all I need is time...time to let it thaw!
I've bragged in the past that I don't mind change but, so far, I can't say that about this empty nest. We'll make it, though. These little bumps in life are teaching me some good lessons, if I will just open my eyes to see them.

Open the eyes of my heart, Lord. I want to see You. In every thing, give thanks!

Empty Nest Musing #1 The Big Red Blob Ate My Son!

Help! The Big Red blob ate my son, my youngest. I tried to stop it... well, maybe I willed it to stop... Okay... on the inside I was screaming, "Stop!" It appeared, larger than life, rising up in the middle of the WKU campus. I had been forewarned it would come. I thought I could fight him off but, alas, he grabbed Philip with great intensity. Oh, he was a tricky one, that Blob. He enticed Philip with many treats, Hilltopper football games, freedom, new friends, freedom, a lax schedule, freedom, a big cafeteria with lots of different good food and, did I mention... FREEDOM?  As I struggled to hold on to my son, I saw the glint of excitement and anticipation in Philip's eyes. "Oh no! I'm losing him," I thought and I pulled harder--but to no avail. I had to concede---Big Red won.
I would have made a great poker player last Sunday. My outsides were smiling and encouraging words came out of my mouth but there was a tornado of emotions whirling throughout my insides. Thankfully, the tears held off till Philip was but a speck in my rearview mirror.
This is a tough passageway to walk through but I know I don't walk it alone. God has plans for Philip, and for me, in this next phase of our lives. IGBmtOK (it's gonna be more than okay--It's gonna be GOOD!)

pre-empty nest syndrome

The time has come, the time is now ... after twenty-six years of "meet the teacher" days, scouring Walmart, Target, or Office Depot for back-to-school deals, and hitting the mall school shoe shopping, this mama bird is facing a soon-to-be empty nest. I walked through CVS today, tears brimming as I eyed all the cute lunch boxes, pencil packs, and neat stacks of notebooks. It really CANNOT be possible--seriously, where did the years go--where did the little ones go? No more class volunteering, no more parent-teacher conferences, no more hours at the kitchen table doing homework or reviewing for tests (okay--that part won't be so bad).
Rob is dancing--literally! He reminds me of how long we've waited for this and all the fun we are going to have, just the two of us. Hmmm ... I guess its possible. I do trust God with the future and I know it will be good, it's just that it's an unknown and trusting the unknowns are sometimes hard when it involves people I love. Maybe "Mama Bird" is not a good analogy 'cause Mama birds push their little ones out of the nest. Sure, the young-'uns need to be independent, to fly, and that's part of my job but someone forgot to tell my heart.
IGBOK--It's gonna be okay. God has promised that as I trust him with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding, acknowledging him in all my ways, he will direct my paths-- in, out, around, before, and after the empty nest.

The What if's? and If only's ...

Two neighbors like to harass me with their questions and comments. They also annoy me with their presence--they've followed me to every state and every neighborhood I've lived in. They have never been invited into my home and yet they easily worm their way into every tough situation of my life. They delight in showing up whenever there is a problem or struggle.They are stubborn and difficult to resist. They love to crash my pity parties.
I call these neighbors the "what-if's" and the "if-only's..." The only way to get rid of these pesky neighbors is prayer! I pray that the Lord will give me enough faith and strengthen me to keep them at bay. I ask the Lord to help me trust Him in all things, particularly the future. God's promise is sure: He will direct my paths. The Lord God Who created me, knows me inside out, and knows what lies ahead has promised to guide me as I trust Him and "lean not on my own understanding." Praise the Lord!

When the Storms of Life are Raging, Stand by Me

Today's tornadoes bring back a memory: In late November, 1988, a tornado ripped through northwest Raleigh, NC in the middle of the night, causing loss of life and property. Three lives, including a classmate of son Brent, were extinguished that night as near speed-of-light winds wreaked havoc in our community. The sanctuary of our church, Asbury UMC, was literally blown to pieces. Daylight revealed what the dark had hidden, and our hearts sank. The incredible mass of wood, brick, glass, trash where our church had once stood... So much to do, so much heartache. Would our young community of faith survive the trauma?
As we cried out to God for strength and direction, He gave us two signs --signs that showed us we were not alone, signs that pointed to the One Who is more powerful than earthly storms.
We set to work, clearing the debris of the fallen sanctuary, and it seemed that everything would have to be tossed. Hundreds of broken chairs, a crashed grand piano, demolishend altar furniture--all wet, splintered, useless. Suddenly, a shout of joy arose amid the mourning. We turned to see what was happening and two men lifted the large wooden cross that had hung in the center of the altar wall. It was perfectly intact! A holy moment ensued as we were transported above the mire and rubble to God's welcoming arms of comfort, of safety, of hope. A day later, as wonderful people from near and far continued the cleanup, a volunteer discovered what surely was a direct message from God. Picking up one of many soggy hymnals in the field beyond the church, he smiled as he read the song title on the open page: "When the Storms of Life Are Raging, Stand by Me." Our congregation quickly claimed this hymn as our own and the lyrics from this hymn pierced our hearts as we sang this hymn over and over in the years to come, years of rebuilding and reconstruction, of re-orienting our Body of Christ to God's mission for us.
"In the midst of tribulation, stand by me"
"When the hosts of hell assail, and my strength begins to fail, thou who never lost a battle, stand by me."
God is Good. Good came from bad --as God has promised. Asbury grew into a stronger, more Christ-centered and God-honoring church.

Storms come in all shapes and sizes: storms of  family, storms of health, storms of finances. Whatever the storm, we have the promise and the assurance that when we trust in the Lord, leaning not on our own understanding, and in all our ways acknowledging Him, He will direct our paths. Thank-you, Lord.

Tracing Rainbows through the Rain

JOY. A simple three-letter word that brings a smile to my face when I say, hear it, think it. The word may be little, but the concept--or characteristic--or emotion--is hardly inconsequential. Joy is more than happiness. Joy is a somersault on a summer afternoon--sweet flight through the air--body and spirit conquer space. It's a recipe of love and peace and hope all rolled into one. It's trust, abandonment of my cares into the hands of Another who is greater than me.
Joy remains, or should remain, as an anchor that keeps us grounded in the storms of life. I usually sign my letters and emails, "Joyfully, Susan."  I admit, though, that sometimes there's a catch in my spirit because I know that at that moment of typing my closing I am not joyful. Is it possible to always have joy? Some arm-chair theologian from my past insisted that we should always be joyful (well, come to think of it, the Apostle Paul said that, too). Happiness comes and goes but joy remains constant in the "good" Christian's life: joy being the knowledge and faith that God is always with us, that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Jesus, and that we have the hope of eternal life.
You know... that sounds good--real good. But today, I'm not joyful. I can't say joy eludes me, because I don't feel like looking for it. There are just times when life stinks--pure old garbage heap, sour milk, dog-poop-in-the-carpet stinks. My dear friend and tennis buddy told our team last night that she has early-stage breast cancer. This news, on top of other trials in my life, has sucked the joy out of me today. Oh, I can put on my "minister hat" and say all the right things; but my humanity wants to cry with her, worry for her, and ask God, "Why?"
Do I believe God is Good? Do I believe God knows what she needs? Do I believe that God is right there with her, every step of the way? YES. But let me grieve as Jesus grieved for Lazarus, for the sin in this world that separates us from the goodness God so wants us to know and enjoy. Do I believe that one day we will be whole and HAPPY, no more worries, fears, sickness, or tears? Yes, and until that day, God give me the faith to trace your rainbow through the rain.

Fly Like an Eagle

It began with seven rambunctious third-grade boys and two Moms who only took the job 'cause no one else would do it. I had all kinds of excuses not to do it--this was my second-go-round with elementary-aged young-uns, I look terrible in khaki, and ... uh... I needed to wash my hair on Tuesday afternoons. But, when it came right down to it, my desire for Philip to be involved in scouting won out over silly, selfish arguments as to why I could not be a DEN MOTHER. Believe it or not, I now fondly recall our cub scout bi-monthly meetings, camping trips, and service projects. And I realize that it was that first year that laid the foundation for Philip to go through the ranks of scouting--all the way to the top!
Last night, Philip received his Eagle Scout badge and this Mama Bird is so proud. The skills he learned, the friends he made, the knowledge he gained, the leadership qualities he developed--and so much more--all add up to a wonderful young man who is Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty,Brave, Clean, and Reverent.

Thank-you, dear Heavenly Father, for my son, Philip. Continue to guide him and give him wisdom as he matures. May he always know your Love and share that love with others. In the name of your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.

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Time Passages

Usually, I cannot remember my dreams. But when I woke up last night in the middle of a dream, I consciously replayed the videotape in my head and thought,"I've got to tell Rob about this--one of the weirdest and most non-sensical dreams I've ever had." The dream consisted of bits and pieces of wack-o actions and absurd words and those bits and pieces have haunted me throughout the day, putting me in a most reflective mood. People from my past--way past-- and places-- past and present-- intersected in this dream in ways that would make Spielberg envious.
But WHY? What do those people and those places have to do with my current status? Is the dream an escape mechanism, a sort of time passage to a more comfortable, secure era of my life?

Well I'm not the kind to live in the past
The years run too short and the days too fast
The things you lean on are the things that don't last
Well it's just now and then my line gets cast into these
Time passages
There's something back here that you left behind
Oh time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight.

Hear the echoes and feel yourself starting to turn
Don't know why you should feel
That there's something to learn
It's just a game that you play. (Time Passages by Al Stewart)


Perhaps, the dream is trying to relay something about my life, now. Or, could it be preparing me for my future?
God of reality and God of dreams, You know all things. Help me to trust You. Thank-you for my past, my present, and my future.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6.

Holy Snow

The winter wonderland fairy came to visit last night. She (he?) powdered Brentwood with picture perfect snow, dressing the trees in lacy couture and disguising the ugly browns and grays of winter's grass and bush.

My walk through the neighborhood felt like a dream. I noticed homes I've never seen before; the contrast of brick to snow highlighting features that have been otherwise unnoticed. The hushed surroundings and the pristine vista hallowed my stroll through the woods. The footprints I left in the smooth perfection seemed a crime and I halfway expected the snow police to appear from behind the trees.

What is it about snow that excites us so? Even Comet comes alive in the snow, her friskiness frightening us for a dog her age. Is it the beauty, the weather phenom, the chance to slow down (sleep late 'cause no school!)? For me, deep down, I think of God our Creator. What a master designer, artist par excellence, supreme architect is God. And we... we are His Beloved, the recipients of all this JOY!

This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it. How Great is our God!