Boundaries

 

We have all become aware of the importance of boundaries in our lives.  In the beginning, God made it clear there were land boundaries that marked tribal territories.  In the book of Job, we learned of the borderland that God created to hold in the seas and between light and darkness.  In Psalms, David claimed: “the boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places, surely I have a delightful inheritance.”

God’s boundaries written in His commandments and living word provide protection and blessings for me.  As a youth, I did not realize this.  In my rebellion , I would drive too fast, stayed out late, and frequented unsafe areas.  This entire boundary breaking put me in danger.  I was inconvincible.  When I crossed those limits, I suffered consequences,;some of those trespasses resulted in lessons and scars for a lifetime.

Our granddaughters have a little neighborhood gang and decided they needed to create their own rules, so they could get along.  They designed a banner long enough to scroll from the ceiling to the baseboard. The title of their gang is “Life Learners”.  Also on the banner, they each wrote a goal, a boundary, or their truth.  Their ages range from a 5-years-old to my oldest granddaughter, Ava, who is 10.  Ava, always playing teacher, created an agenda notebook where each child’s name was written followed by three areas that needed improvement.  If they achieved two of the three objectives in a week, she rewarded them with a star or a stuffed toy from her abundant stockpile. (I’m wondering if I make a banner, if my boyfriend, my roommate of 49 years, will buy into this idea.)

Here are some snapshots of the gang’s banner and their mottos and even a poem, which depicts their understanding.  I was touched when Ava and Ellis took me upstairs and showed me their project.  This old blogger, who has written life lessons for six years, was moved to tears.  Ava asked, “Why are you crying?  Ellis asked, “Do you think it will work, Mimi?  My answer, “You are much wiser than your years.  I am very proud and so in love with you and your project.”

They have realized early in their lives the importance of boundaries.  Will they be broken? Of course, but they are trying at a young age to give honor to each other’s space and place. This simple neighborhood project has assured me our future generation is warming their hands and hearts on life’s long ladder.

Leaves of Meaning

Copyrighted art by Sandi Baron

Each autumn season reminds me of one very special fall ten years ago.  Our youngest son, Adam, moved to Seattle that previous summer.  I was missing him so much.

  I am always humbled by the beauty of the color of the leaves and the response of the trees to shed on God’s cue each fall.  This colorful rhythmic pattern is evidence of our Father’s masterful plan. 

I taught our sons to enjoy jumping in the leaves when they were small.  Now I jump in the leaves with my granddaughters.  It is the right of passage to celebrate the oncoming holidays.  

I remember leaf collections were assigned as science projects in the fall.  Adam and I would tromp through our neighborhood, the woods, and the unoccupied back streets searching for each kind of leaf.  We would return, mount them as instructed, label them with the label maker, and gloat over our leaf knowledge.

However, this year there were no leaf trampers or rakers, or no leaf projects. I returned home and as I walked in the door the phone was ringing.

“Hey, Mom, I’m thinkin’ of fall...really miss the colors.”

“ No autumn in Washington?” I asked.

“Nope, just not the same kind of trees here. No golden coins flying through the air.”

“ Well, what was your adventure last weekend?” I asked.

“Climbed a trail.  Saw a bear.  Met a new climbing bud.”

“Oh, my gosh.  That sounds exciting.”

“Hey , Mom, send me a fall photo, OK? Gotta run. Bye.”

I had an idea.  I would collect leaves in the neighborhood and put them in a mailing envelope.  I started my journey by walking across the street to the Calvert’s and Hill’s yards.   They were outside visiting and I told them my mission and they entered in enthusiastically.

“Put in my red maple leaf.  I know he will remember playing in these red leaves,” said the neighbor.

As I reached the corner, I explained to another neighbor my project ,and he chimed in, “ Hey, tell Adam hi and this is my best sycamore leaf.”

I rounded the corner and walked past his middle school principal’s house.  I told him I was sending leaves to Adam, and he offered greetings and a perfect oak leaf.

Next, on the street was Adam’s former librarian, “ Here, take these two giant bronze leaves and tell Adam they remind me of him, shiny and bright.”

My collection was increasing as were the greetings.  It touched my heart how neighbors admired their leaves and gave warm salutations of love.  I continued collecting burgundy, gold, bright neon green, and golden leaves.  When I returned home, I added the greeting each neighbor had sent on the back of the leaf they selected.  

I mailed my package and waited to hear from Adam.

“Hey, Mom, my floor is filled with colored leaves.  They even smell like Indiana.  I really enjoyed all the notes from the neighbors.  It feels like autumn. This is the best gift ever.  I love you Mom.”  I hung up the phone and his words have lingered in my heart for ten years. So, I share this very special autumn memory as I realize the leaves are all gone, and now I must prepare for winter memories.

I Feel Amish

I feel Amish.

We are having a wedding/garden reception for Annie and Adam next weekend.  The project list has been exhausting.  Partially, the weather has created so many gardening challenges.  For example, last week all my roses were in bloom.  Then, came the heat and thunder showers and washed them away.  Red petals speckled the freshly laid mulch.  This was just not the look I was anticipating.

Each morning I awaken and run outside to check my flowers and hanging baskets.  Because of the unexpected heat wave, they look exhausted.  I deadhead, fertilize, and pray over all my gardens telling them that next weekend is their debut.  I do have a wonderful garden guest named Jacob.  He is a black , warty toad that lives in my water feature.  I hand dig him worms and feed him.  I have taught my granddaughters to do the same.  They think he is a delight.  Jacob hops along beside me as I pull weeds and transplant flowers.  He and I are gardening pals for the summer.  

I have a snake visitor in my shade garden.  He hides in the shadows and slinks about my coral bells, hosta, and violets.  I only hope he never comes to Jacob’s garden mound.   Since Denny found Slinky Sam in our backyard, I worry about sweet Jacob.

Today I cleaned all the drawers and under bathroom cabinets.  I do hope guest peek in my tidy drawers.  I have tried to put needed guest items in the baths for my visiting family members.  That is why I feel Amish.  I am cleaning and readying for sister from New York, Annie and Adam from Seattle, and Christine and John and girls from Fort Wayne.  I have made casseroles and desserts ahead and have them in the freezer.  Today I washed linens and quilts to freshen the beds.  Here I am in suburbia Muncie doing the same thing the ladies are doing on the farm in Napanee.  

Women have such commonalities.  We are the ones who worry about folding the towels, so they look decorative.  We put flowers in vases to share God’s creation. We clean windows, bookshelves, and wash the crystal preparing for guest.  It is important to me that my guests feel welcome, so I work hard at making everything appealing, clean, and comfortable.  I guess it is just a women’s nature to reach out to others by tidying her nest.  

Because of getting ready for my family and friends , I have been busy and again neglected my blog.  I know that after this week of “to do” lists and the finale of the wedding party, I will be eager to write and share more of what makes our lives worth living.  Until then, I will just share my stories with Jacob and Slinky Sam and prepare them for the relatives and seventy visitors next  Saturday.

Joy Shared Brings Faith To Others

One of the greatest joys of my life is talking about God with friends and family.  I yearn to hear their stories, their miracles, their memories of God.  The recounting of God’s works lifts my faith and helps me know the depth of God.

Yesterday, a former pastor and his wife dropped in for a visit.  They are 87 and 84  now and getting a little fragile.  They still have great God stories to share.  They shared how a pastor in town prayed and asked God to resurrect their son who was born dead and remained dead for twenty minutes.  They prayed.  They believed.  God answered.  They had used their faith to pray for a dead baby early in their ministry and knew God was big, really big.  The baby began to breathe again and both babies are grown men and in careers this day.  

Smith Wigglesworth was an evangelist in the early 1900s in England, United States, South Africa, and Australia.  He is one of my favorite Bible teachers.  He was an ordinary man used in an extraordinary way by God.  He spent many hours each day studying the word of God and praying and built up his faith , so he could expect miracles and know God would answer.  He had great faith in what God could do, and God did great healings and conversions through him.  There is documentation of him raising men from the dead at least twenty times.  He didn’t rest until he saw God move in the lives of those who needed Him.  He prayed fervently until a child was healed.  Yet, in his own life he and his wife had  a deaf child that remained deaf her entire life. Wigglesworth lost a young son and his evangelist wife to early deaths,yet he went on with his spiritual journey.   Regardless of these tragedies,he continued to trust God and be used by God to heal others.  As I read his  biography,  I realized a man who had complete trust and unwavering faith in God and lived by his favorite saying, “ Only believe.”

I desire to be unwavering. I want to be a yielding prayer warrior.  I hunger to know and understand God’s word.  I want to practice that word and encourage others. I fall short of all these goals, but I keep learning from others.  Life is short but grace is long.  I will continue my spiritual journey because of those who take the time to share God’s wonders, His miracles, and His love.

Do you have a God story you would like to share on my blog?  I would love to hear them and share them with others. You could add them to the comment section or be a guest blogger on Sandi's Impressions.  We all are faith builders because of what God has done in our lives.  I am looking forward to your stories.

My tribute to my friend and nieghbor,Linda Calvert

My Christmas celebrations came to a halt yesterday.  My neighbor past away in her sleep.  Linda will have the ultimate Christmas .  She will be singing with the angels and praising God in the highest.  She will understand fully how the life of Christ was the light of her.  I can't imagine what joy she must feel basking in His glory  and His encompassing light .  I can only know she is walking on the streets of gold with Christ because she lived her live for Him and the family that He gave her.

Linda and Larry Calvert have been our neighbors for over thirty-five years.  I have a large front window .  Through this window, I have watched the Calverts' children play and grow.  We have gone through many snows together and helped dig each other out.  We have planted every spring and talked about these plantings and our expectations.  We have pruned every fall and discussed how this would help our plants next year.  As I have looked out my window through these years, I have watched Linda and Larry as a team.  I have watched them pack their van for a trips to Branson, the Smokey Mountains, and the Rockies.  I have watched them return and heard their enjoyable reports of their trips together.  In fact, through the years, the Calverts have made my daily journal entries many times.  They are the kind of neighbors that you dream of having. They are always there if we needed help, water, or other emergencies.

Linda and I loved sitting on the porch and looking over the neighborhood and talking of how things have changed or not changed. I must admit that I would have to coax her to stop and sit.  She was always busy with household projects or trips to town.  We considered it a blessing that several of the residence on our street had been neighbors since the early seventies.  We discussed Angie's upcoming marriage, her first baby, and her job.  We talked of Nate's diabetes and then his new fiance, wedding plans, job, and life in Indy.

We considered how blessed we were to have husbands that took such good care of us and were faithful to God and His teachings.  We laughed about grandchildren antics and aspirations.  We never tired of talking about her flowers and mine.  We reported our first hummingbird citing as well as how much we fed the local bird population.  We talked often of God's constant care and blessings.  We asked each other for prayer and knew that we would seek our Father's best for each other.

I showed Linda my first painting, and as usual, she was so complimentary.  She was always interested in my current projects or our trips, our son's activities, and  our new home improvements.  She was a pure, pure spirit.  I loved the gentle light that glowed within her.  She was calming to be around.  When she shared about Angie and Nate, it wasn't bragging but praise for how good God was to them.  She was never boisterous just kind and loving.  She demonstrated the love of Christ in her inquiries and her explanations of life's happenings.

Before Linda's heart surgery last spring, she shared that she was dreading it.  We talked of how doctor's were well trained now and how God would be holding her hand.  She recovered so quickly.  She was home and talking to us the very week of her surgery.  She said it was painful but manageable.  That was so Linda.  She liked focusing on the best, the light, the strength, and the joy in her life.  That is what I loved about Linda.  She wasn't critical but concerned.  She wasn't negative but positive.  She wasn't focused on worldly fashion, possessions, or money.  Instead, she shared her love for her family, her granddaughters, nature, and  God's beauty.  She was the right person to hang around if  I was feeling sad or discontent.  Her conversations gave me a lift, a smile, and a portion of her gentle light.

I will miss that light outside my window.  I will miss her sweet, childlike smile.  I will try to learn from her and not focus on grieving but instead on her wonderful life eternal.  God planted a beautiful woman in my life.  I know we shall meet again one day.  Until then, I will remember all her dedication to her  "workouts" at the YMCA, her love of retirement because she could at last sleep late,  her  fastidious attention to her church family,and her diligence in being Larry's handmaiden.

Yes, sweet friend, you will be missed.

When her bulbs bloom this spring, they will beckon a hello to me from Linda smiling down from heaven's gates.                  

Toad Tales

Toad Tales

It is time. I must write, reflect, and disclose my toad tales. Since I was a small child, I have been attracted to toads and frogs. Do you know the difference? Let me explain that frogs live by the water, jump high, are usually brighter green, and have a slimy, smooth skin. Toads don’t need to live near the water, are plumper, have big football shaped eyes, and run or takes small hops to escape. Their plump little bodies just seem cuddly and begging to be held. They are soft, and mushy. The feeling is similar to the shaggy, rubber balls sold at toy stores today. I bet the designer had known a toad.


I remember when I was pregnant with our first born, I would turn the back porch light on to attract nocturnal insects. Then, in my giant while nightgown that fit over my bulging belly, I would grab insects from the light and feed to the toads that lived in my ferns. It was my nurturing nature being fulfilled by timid toads.
When I garden, toads are my friends. They eat the bad beetles and menacing mosquitoes. Squeals of delight can be heard by my backyard neighbors. The reason? I have found Mr. Kudunk hiding under the golden nasturtiums. He hugs his dark, warty body to the earth. He is camouflaged from others, but not me. I grab him and tell him how cute he is. I give him a little squeeze and a kiss on his sweet, soft mouth and tuck him under the leaves of chard. He just makes my heart happy. I hope I have done the same for him. He is one of my favorite creatures made and designed by God.


Another delight I have discovered in toads is their wide low set eyes. They sometimes sleep with the lid half shut and half open. I observe them from my glider on my front patio. Here they prefer living by the splashing fountain and bayberry bushes. They hop, but not high like frogs. They move from place to place and sit and watch me as I watch them. We have a united community. They catch the mosquitoes, and I get to swing longer and watch the sunset.


I give ode to the toad. I value his design, his purpose, and his importance to the earth. For the world is a nasty place, it has fertilizers, pesticides, and pollutants that threaten his life. Toads have few predators. He is divinely equipped with skin that lets out a bitter taste and smell that burns eyes and nostrils of his predators, much like a skunk does. I relate closely to that offense. When anyone attacks my kids and loved ones, I too send words that might burn their eyes or even penetrate their hearts. They back away quickly. I am not proud of my sharp remarks, but please don’t threaten or degrade my loved ones.


One last eccentric pastime is naming my toads. There is Alford, Maria, San Lucia, and Gramps that I have cherished this summer. I call them by name when I pick them up and give them a hug. I don’t need a photo of Mr. Kudunk or the others because their picture in my heart will live forever.