When Shadows Fall

Shadows in Our Lives

            This past week I have had two dear friends receive bad health reports for their grand children.  I have two other friends that have had to readjust their lives because of children or grandchildren moving to another state.  As I prayed for these friends, I could feel the shadow over their lives.  Things appeared more gray than light. Life seemed harder instead of normal.  My heart hurt for them so I asked God to lift these shadows from them, give them hope, understanding, and His wisdom. 

            As I prayed I learned a new truth.  If there is a shadow, there must be light.  His light would prevail through all these hardships.  His faithfulness would endure all the crises, sickness, and loneliness.  He would be their help by giving them the light of hope that would dispel the shadow.

            That is why I love to pray and talk to God about others.  I learn new truths and see things from His eyes.  His purpose isn’t always clear to them or me, but His light and acceptance is.  He is there.

            I think how I hold up these petitions to Him and His hands are extended to take them.  I visualize His hands enfolding the request and wrapping His fingers tightly around them.  I see His hands extended to my friends in need.  I know He cares and will send the Holy Spirit to implement those petitions.  He cares for all of His children.

            Then, I wonder how many times His hands have been extended to receive prayers, and I offered none.  I didn’t take time to petition, to give thanksgiving, to ask forgiveness, to give messages of adoration.  How many times did I leave those extended hands empty?  I ask forgiveness this day for all those times I have not put something into the hands of Christ

The Marriage Formula

            As Denny and I celebrated forty-seven years of marriage last week, so many thoughts and stories were shared between us.  We looked at our wedding album together and asked, “ Who is that slim and dark haired couple?”

            Clarifying time with its mathematical progression has turned us into the elder Barons. Time is trickery. We thought when holding a sick, crying infant in the night, each hour was  an eternity of agony. Waiting two and half years for John’s healing seemed like forever. We learned faith as God healed him.  Staying seven months in bed to save Adam in the womb taught me God’s presence, and Denny to be a server, a caregiver , and accepted  Christ as his Savior. Our marriage took on a new perspective as we tried to keep Jesus the center of our decisions and plans.

Our marriage has shaped us into different people yet retained our personality and passions that attracted us. God intended marriage to be the vessel to make us more like Him.   We were the tools that refined each other.  Sometimes a knife sharp comment would break communication for a couple of days.  Other times seeing the other mate cry softened our heart for months.  Our life began to take on a rhythm of trust and appreciation.  However, this did not come without battles, tears, and a lot of making up.

            Marriage is an endurance contest to reach a fulfilled goal. Every day is different and a new lesson in how to love and give grace.  No wonder long marriages are becoming more rare.  Perseverance is part of the formula.  In 1967 no one discussed the laws and gambles of marriage.  We just fell in love and thought we would be happy ever after with the honeymoon glow thrown in for life.  Defining happy has taken many dictionaries through the years.  One day we realized we couldn’t make the other person happy.  That was their choice.  Another year we learned that looking away when the other mate acted stupid and egotistical and looking back when they acted normal was a key to successful marriage.  We understood early that parenting was a couple-thing, and we must always present a unified front to the boys.  Experiencing teaching every day, rearing children, and attending all their activities was exhausting. Then added to that schedule was the care of our ailing parents, both of us holding second jobs several times in our marriage ,and volunteering in the Young Life ministry for  twenty plus years. These activities changed our focus and created giving and compassionate spouses. 

The boys have become men of integrity and hard workers. John and Christine are now making those “parental” decisions. We enjoy watching them parent, discipline, motivate, and love their girls.  It seems they have learned in fifteen years what it has taken Denny and I over forty years to understand. 

In retirement we have learned all those years of sacrifice and putting up with our mates's “druthers” has been worth it.  We have learned to love better, be less concerned about a misplaced comment, and laugh at ourselves.  We spend many days accusing “somebody” of not putting something back in its place, locking a door, or some other task like putting the wash in the dryer.  The"somebody” makes us aware but not angry. No longer is it important to be right or do we feel wrong is threatening to our egos. Well, at least most of the time that is true.  Time has knocked off most of our gnarly edges and our memories represent artful forgery. It is good to remember the best and filter out the discord.

 These years together have refined us and polished our hearts and souls together.  I am feeling very blessed that our marriage is like an old sweatshirt. We are comfortable even when we have wrinkles and sags.  We earned them together, and I am grateful for the ups, downs, turn a rounds, hand holding, hugs, silly smug smiles, and hysterical laughter at our mishaps.  These are privileged memories that walk us to the door of old age. I sure wish we knew these things forty-seven years ago because those early years would have been so much easier.  However, I realize it is now we need smooth paths and understanding, so I guess the marriage formula does work as God designed.

Making heart memories through a fairy garden.

Fairy Gardens

“Sometimes the briefest moments capture us, force us to take them in, and demand that we live the rest of our lives in reference to them.”    Lucy Grealy

My granddaughters have chosen to fill our fairy garden with delicate seashells, colored chunks of resin, step on grasses, and many fairies.  They rearrange the furniture and make new gifts for the fairies.  They may choose to leave a note or even give the fairies one of their precious drawings.  They live in anticipation of whether this will be the day the fairies drops a treasure in their “make do” gift holder.

When they arrive at the the front door, I hear, " Hi, Mimi" and then they run out the back door to check the fairy garden. They look in the empty gift box and seem a little disappointed, but then Ava announces, “Fairies don’t leave gifts every day.” 

“Look at me, Mimi, look at me,” calls Ellis, who is five. She climbs the fairy tree and looks down upon the treasured garden with miniature table and chairs, frogs, turtles, and fairies.  “I’m like God looking down at us.”  We all giggle at her observation.

“Mimi, I made a fairy garden at my house!” Ellis is so excited about her creation.  She asks for a few more seashells for her garden.  Those of you that follow me know that I have brought a ton of shells back from the ocean.  So, I have plenty to share.

I learn from the girls to expect but not be disappointed if this wasn’t the day to find fairy prizes. On those days, we sit together on the glider by the fairy garden and talk of beauty, flowers, cloud formations, and what kind of bird is on the nearby feeder.  I hope to create heart pictures within these precious girls.  I hope these fairy lessons may be the bridge to faith lessons.  The girls learn blessings come unexpected and in God's timing.  Perhaps these talks will create gratitude for all God’s creations.  Someday the scenes of today will be their  heart memories forever. Ellis has learned the joy of creating her own garden.  Ava has been moved to makeup new stories to add to our ongoing fairy sagas.  This is our little Garden of Eden for enjoying, learning, creating, and talking to each other. 

When the muse visits

When The Muse Visits

 

            I am so blessed when I am in the creative rhythm zone.  I am learning that fresh ideas and paintings flow when I pay attention to my creative energy. It is like connecting the dots and discovering that everything is easier when I go with the mojo of the day.

            This week I felt the muse come.  So, I slowed down my week of appointments, lunches, and exercise classes and painted. The sounds of Mozart from my Boze player propelled me into a wonderful journey. Spring blossoms inspired me to paint landscapes and flowers.   I marvel at God’s ability to make so many greens.  As I have grown older, I appreciate perennials with varied green leaves. Lush leaves of hostas and ferns bubble happiness into my soul.  The blue flowers of the brunneras, pinks in the bleeding heart, and brilliant colors in my freshly planted annual baskets bring constant joy through the season.
            My youngest granddaughter, Ellis, said, “ Mimi, you want to paint every flower and every plant, don’t you?”  She is right, I do.  Carving out time for art and writing can be a challenge.  However, this week I made it a priority.  When I paint , I feel God’s pleasure.  When I write, I feel God’s pleasure.  He is the Creator and that creator in me recognizes a bonding when I paint or write.  Ellis is right.  I do want to paint all the beauty He has created in our world.

            I recognized that some weeks bring more creative energy than others.  So, when the momentum and speed of creative rhythms are with me, I have purposed to indulge deeply into my painting and writing.,  On days when ideas are less or a little dormant, I will look for other ways to express God’s love.  Saying words of silver to a friend in despair is as creative as writing books and blogs.  Giving my beautiful flowers in a special vase is an act of love and creativity.  I never tire of sharing the word of God with others.  Again, I have had to learn the rhythm and timing, not mine but the Creator’s.  So, this week whether you are painting, writing, or sharing your love in a creative way, I hope you find your creative rhythm and dance to your own song.
           Alexandra Franzen says it well when she encourages us by saying, "Today: I hope that you write, make, say, or do something wonderful.  Something that leaves the world in a better condition than you found it."

New plantings, new beginnings.

           

Bittersweet choices

Round colorful mounds placed upon green straws.

G

Spring is Sweet but Bittersweet

As blue bells ring out their beauty and lilacs spray their sweetness, I marvel at the multi-colored tulip beds at Foster Park.  Redbuds light the paths to gardens filled with spectacular colors of red, yellow, purple, and pink.  Then, I sneeze and sneeze.  My eyes itch and I hear that familiar spring wheeze within.  How can I be allergic to such beauty?

God made these beautiful blossoms and me.  It is ironic these eye candies carry pollen to refurbish themselves, yet make me sneeze.  Yes, I understand that my autoimmune system needs its youthful vigor.  I know staying inside helps combat the pollen intake.  But really, who (old or young) can stay inside on these beautiful, treasured days?

I consider the seagulls that have been designed with boomerang wings.  It is not easy to begin their flight compared to other slight of wing birds. However, they can climb the wind to float on the top rung of the flight latter.   They need only to flap when they start to drop.  Their design is perfect for their full bodies.  So, what seems difficult becomes and asset because they can fly high above in the heavens and see what fish or sand scraps they choose.  They descend by just gliding in the wind to dine at sea or sand.

I consider the great horned owl.  His favorite meal is a skunk.  I suppose his appetite to exist is stronger than the smell he must withstand.  Again, a struggle and strange combination exists in our natural world.

I consider the tulips.  Their beauty is breathtaking when their blooms pop open like a set alarm clock.  They are framed by dazzling red bud and lilac trees, which hear the same alarm.  Their beauty fleeting before my eyes because that same alarm that signaled the bud, now signals their time on earth is over.  “ Too soon, too fast,” I declare over the beds of glory.  In retrospect, I should rejoice over their reign. It is my artist heart that would like them to stay and bloom all summer.  However, then there would be no such season as spring.

So whether it is allergies, boomerang wings, stinky prey, or a brief life span, I must let the trial come to gather the blessing and manna of this day.