Old Dog, New Tricks?

My 12-year-old is trying to teach me how to throw a football.  No one else in forty years has accomplished this feat, but I find it endearing that he is trying. Something about the spinning, and the flick of the wrist, all whilst trying to actually make the thing go in a certain direction… I don’t know, it certainly isn’t my natural state. 

I pretty much know my lane, friends.  Reading and writing: put me in the fast lane. Athletics and arithmetic: better take a back seat and let someone else drive.  I’ve come to accept this truth.  It’s not that I can’t do them, it is simply that I do not excel in them.  The older I get, the less I want to learn new tricks!

Now, here is my son, standing beside me, showing me how to hold the ball and move my fingers just so…telling me that it took him a long time to get the hang of it too, and encouraging me when I do a decent job with a throw.  “And also, mom, can you bring me another snack, I’m hungry.” He’s eating me out of house and home, but he is, as his librarian said to me, “a wonderful human.”

There’s something in the Bible about this. About the feeling of abandoning what is comfortable and trying new things.  About being mentored in how to do something, then going out to put what is learned into practice.  Remember when Jesus sent the disciples out (two by two I might add) to practice teaching and healing in his name? For the full story, read Luke 10:1-24. He tells them not to take anything with them, but to walk into a town and depend on the people’s hospitality. If the people are receptive the encounter will be peaceful, but if the disciples are rejected, Jesus tells them to dust the sand off their feet and move on.  The disciples returned to Jesus after their travels rejoicing that they had been able to heal people and send Satan’s spirits packing.  Jesus told the disciples that he had given them incredible authority and power, but the real gift is that their names are written in heaven.

However, a time is described in Matthew 17:14-29 in which the disciples could not cure a boy possessed by a spirit.  Jesus calls them an “unbelieving generation!” and angrily asks how much longer he has to put up with them! When they ask Jesus later why they could not cure this child, Jesus tells them, “This kind can only come out by prayer.”  What this tells me is that there is always something new to be learned and that we never perfect things on the first try.  Jesus gave the disciples enough information and authority to lead, but he also let them struggle and fail so they would learn a lesson.  

Maybe that is why we call the things we do to enhance our faith experience, “spiritual practices.”  Because it takes practice!  This morning in Sunday School, Ken Wolfe said, “I know it isn’t that we should set aside time out of our day for God, but that God should be first and we should ‘set aside time’ for everything else, but it is hard to do.”  Yes, indeed it is! But each morning is a new day, a new opportunity to practice our faith.  To practice prayer, to practice studying the Word, to practice seeing God in creation. To practice hospitality, generosity, compassion, openness.  What new thing might the Lord be trying to teach you?

Some Things Bear Repeating

Jesus shows up at the tent camps under bridges

not letting the trashcan fires blow out.

Jesus shows up in the lines at the mission

multiplying that which is brought to make folks full. 

Jesus shows up in the disease infested hovels built on mountains

molded out of our own garbage and sits with children in our castoff clothes.

Jesus shows up, reflected in the eyes of the beached whales and the ducks

with wings now oil-slick, belly up, moving nature’s force to restore balance. 

Jesus shows up, by the bedside of the cancer patient,

providing warmth over the cold chemicals pumped into veins.

Jesus shows up next to the prisoners

to loosen shackles from bleeding wrists.

Jesus shows up in the sterile white rooms to bring peace

to the frenzied, straightjacketed souls.

Jesus shows up in classrooms and boardrooms,

courtrooms and staterooms, and everywhere in between.  

Jesus shows up when we walk,

when we fall,

when we weep,

and when we leap.

And he comes whether we are the person engulfed in the pain,

or the person who ignited it. 

Grace upon grace.

Go Karts and Lasers and Brownies, Oh My!

In early September I was told by the Wolfes not to schedule anything on Oct 10th between the hours of 3pm-6pm.  The event was top secret, so I didn’t ask any questions. Last Sunday I discovered that the Guilfords were also in on this plan.  On Thursday night I inquired about appropriate dress and was told we would be outside.  Hm, is it a train ride? A hike? A cookout? It was not until Saturday morning that I was told to be at Fastrax in Waynesboro at 4:00. When Kemper and I arrived, there was a party room reserved with my name on it! In addition to the Wolfes and Guilfords, the Browns and the Newbills also arrived. This was a party for me; to celebrate Pastor Appreciation Month and the kids chose where to hold the festivities.  What an excellent choice! Most of us went around the racetrack in Go-Karts and I must say, there weren’t any spinouts or crashes-everyone drove respectfully (at least around me).  We played arcade games; the children were particularly gifted with the claw machine! It didn’t hurt that the machine glitched and seemed to give infinite attempts. Apparently, there are new squishy toys called Dumplings, that are all the rage and everyone got at least one Dumpling from the claw machine, mine is glittery lavender.  Daisy also grabbed an egg for me from one machine, with a panda ring inside, which I proudly wore.  Pizza, chips, Capri Sun and brownies were devoured as there was no time to waste when games were calling.  We did get suited up to play Laser Tag… how was I the only adult in the room and still the shortest? Just kidding, Daisy, Weston, and MG haven’t caught up to me yet!  Despite having Owen and Kemper on Daisy and I’s team we were soundly beaten by Ben, Addison, and Weston. 

I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed riding some silly adventure ride with Mary Grace. Or how delightful it was to see all the kids gathered around the claw machine, cheering each other on as they tried to make sure everyone got a Dumpling squishy. Or when someone’s arcade game card was out of credit, I was more than willing to swipe mine.   I loved the mylar balloons, the fun ink pens, the high fives and hugs.

I was prepared to tell you about how the thoughtfulness emanating from these kids made me think maybe the world, as we know it, wouldn’t end too soon after all.  And what a testament it is to their parents, and their grandparents and great grandparents…if these are the next leaders, we’ll be alright.  But then, I came downstairs for fellowship time yesterday and saw them all with mops and brooms in hand, trying their best to help sop up the water pooling in the floor. Barbies and plates of goodies abandoned to…serve.  I’m sure they didn’t think of it as work, it was just a novel activity, an opportunity to play in puddles in their Sunday clothes. But isn’t it interesting that after I just talked to them at children’s time about how they didn’t need to do good works to earn God’s love, there they were, joyfully responding to that love by doing what needed to be done?  You could have knocked me over with a feather. It simply never occurred to me that they would mop the floors.  Just like it never occurred to me that they would want to play games with me on a Saturday afternoon.  Yeah, today, the future looks bright. 

Artistry

My grandmother always said God must love blue and green because he made so much of it.  I think God likes bold pops of color.  I imagine the creator as an artist flinging paint on a blank canvas, making every shade and shadow become vivid. And well, just imagine, if the Creator had not made us the way we are, we wouldn’t be able to see those colors at all.

 I agree with the sentiment from the Anne of Green Gables novel, “I am so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” For a week or so, I stopped paying attention and suddenly it is autumn, the leaves an explosion of color. While I do not always welcome the chill of fall, there is nothing better than seeing the fog settle across those hilly fields, calves frolicking in the mist, leaves ablaze in the sunrise.   Every opportunity to drive down Swope Lane is a gift.  This stretch of road lined with the perfect red, orange, and yellow trees might just be where the Creator at last sat back and said, “Rockbridge County is finished and it is oh so good.”  

I encourage all of us to pay attention this week.  In the rush between appointments, work, child-rearing, and chores…pause and admire God’s artistry. 

Twinning

I thought this story out of Richmond, VA was really interesting and a great example of turning trauma into triumph!

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/identical-twin-doctors-travan-travis-jasper-richmond-virginia-hospital/

The Remnants

“I ask, then, has God rejected his people? By no means! I myself am an Israelite, a descendant of Abraham, a member of the tribe of Benjamin. 2 God has not rejected his people whom he foreknew. Do you not know what the scripture says of Elijah, how he pleads with God against Israel? 3 ‘Lord, they have killed your prophets, they have demolished your altars; I alone am left, and they are seeking my life.’4 But what is the divine reply to him? ‘I have kept for myself seven thousand who have not bowed the knee to Baal.’5 So, too, at the present time there is a remnant chosen by grace. 6 But if it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works, otherwise grace would no longer be grace.” --Romans 11:1-6

I had the unusual experience of arriving at church extra early on Sunday morning.  I wanted to allow plenty of time to get the camera we utilize to record and stream worship services working, as lately it has not been compatible with the Facebook platform.  I also had in mind that the microphone at the lectern wasn’t working last weekend, and perhaps I might be able to observe a simple fix.  Lo and behold, the camera worked right away (fingers crossed, knock on wood, someone sage the thing)! Additionally, the microphone that was giving us problems was also working. Thus, I was given a few extra minutes of peaceful respite on the front porch of the church.

As I sat there looking out over the beautiful lawn and the trees that are just beginning to have a twinge of changing colors, I wondered what those first families of New Providence observed from those steps. It must have been magnificent to come around the curve from the stagecoach road, or pop over a hill from the neighboring farms and see this house of worship that just kept growing and being rebuilt as the population of the community swelled. It must have been quite something to see her, glowing red in the morning sun, facing ever east (thank you for that reminder, Ken Wolfe). Imagine how dwarfed those early pioneers and their wagons were as they stopped here on Sunday mornings. Imagine watching the Old Sycamore grow as the grants became a county, as the colonies became states, as this country was founded, fought for, wounded, and stitched together again.  The same land. The same bricks.  The same tree.  Tremendous.

 I wondered what they would think of us now in the year of our Lord 2026; 280 years from the formation of the congregation. I wonder what it was like to stand on the front steps with hundreds of people to get a photograph. It would have taken a lot more time and effort than my haphazard phone and tripod trick. I wonder if the mothers also called out to their children not to get their clothes dirty or stop whacking each other with sticks.  I wonder if the fathers gathered outside to ‘shoot the breeze’ before services began.  I wonder if they complained, as I often do, how it is either a million degrees or freezing cold whenever we hold a funeral on the hill.  Would they have ever, in their wildest dreams believed there would be a woman in the pulpit? A woman sitting as clerk of session? When people came from far and wide to attend the chrysanthemum shows in the late 1800s & early 1900s; and all those Model-T’s were lined up in the lot out here, did they ever imagine that event would no longer be held? Would those elders of old be concerned by the fact that we no longer knock on doors when you haven’t been to church or barred you from the communion table if you’d been pegged as a sinner in the community for too much dancing or drinking? Would it shock them to know that we no longer take our wagons and trucks around the community to pick up kids and bring them to Vacation Bible School? That we no longer line up a hundred plus kids on the lawn and sing songs before we march inside for our lesson? Can you believe we don’t pass red Kool-Aid and a cookie out the kitchen window anymore? Little flashes of pictures I’ve seen from these bygone eras flashed through my mind while I sat out there. Same land. Same brick. Same tree.

The interior is probably the same brilliant white, lit by blinding sunlight pouring through the windows as the day goes on. The pews, still hard and creaking, but not with as many seats filled.  Across America that is a narrative that tracks for old mainline churches like ours. Would our ancestors shake their heads at us and pinpoint what went wrong? I am sure we have our own ideas about why church attendance is in decline, why rural living overall is in decline.  Would the generations long gone sit beside us like Job and his friends, who even as he grieved over events in his life, his friends wanted to put their finger on what sin he had committed to be so punished?

I don’t think we’re being punished though.  And I don’t think we should grieve that we do not have 800 members on our rolls. While we may long for ‘simpler’ times, we can’t change the leaps and bounds humanity has made in 280 years. And in a lot of ways, we wouldn’t want to. I sat on the porch and the words that came to mind for me were these; we are the remnants; we are the faithful.  This doesn’t mean that those who have departed from us, or those who choose not to worship with us are unfaithful…but that we can take comfort in the fact that we are faithful.

Genesis described God’s Garden of Eden as being “in the east.”  The glory of God approached the Israelites from the east. The Tabernacle and the Temple both faced east. The sun rises in the east. And the Son of Man declared himself that his return would be like a flash of lightening from the east to west.  Every morning we face east to greet the rising sun and the Risen Son.  Everyday dawns anew and we have the chance to begin again, to be faithful, again. Definitions of a remnant focus on something being left over or left behind.  You may describe the stones of a crumbling wall, the remnants of a fallen building.  But we are not a crumbling building or witnessing a crumbling faith or serving a decaying God.  We are the bricks that stand on a firm foundation. Same land. Same brick. Same tree. Same faith.

From This Day Forward: Part IV

“Fill ‘er up and wash the windshield will ya? And make it snappy; we’re in a hurry,” James replied to the sloth-eyed gas station attendant.

“Aight then.” came the indifferent response.

The young man spit tobacco onto the greasy pavement and set to work. Bobby walked to the rear of the car and began to pump gasoline. Once this task was completed he proceeded to wash the front windshield. Bobby frowned at the amount of elbow grease he had to use on in order to clear off all the bug juice. He then made a quick inspection of the vehicle as he walked around it and noticed that the back left tire was becoming low on air. He considered mentioning the defect to but his laziness caused him to overlook the tire. “They’s jest strangers anyway, why help ‘em?” He thought to himself. “Besides, he was kinda grumpy with me anyway.” Coming back around the driver’s side Bobby peered into the window. Upon seeing Lois in the back seat a flirtatious grin swept across his face. “ That’ll be four dollars, mister,” said Bobby to James, his eyes never leaving Lois’ face. “Three seventy-five for the gas and twenty-five cents for the warshin.’” Reaching in hi s pocket James pulled out a wad of dollar bills. “I thank ya, sir.” James replied as politely as possible through clenched teeth. Bobby slowly stepped back from the car and shot another smile and a wink ant Lois. Lois smiled sheepishly and turned her head to hide her blushing cheeks. Bobby removed his baseball cap, wiped the perspiration from his brow, returned the cap to it’s former position and moseyed back inside.

Once the bunch of weary travelers was back on the road, Mother looked over at Lois and poking her in the ribs playfully, “Why Lois, I think that young man fancied you.” “Well, maybe so,” Lois agreed, lifting her chin, “but that don’t make no matter to me. Just think, if I was to marry him I’d have to move to Harlan, Kentucky and I will never…”

“Never say never,” James teased.

“ Never!” Lois replied. “No just shut your mouth and drive!”

And so they drove…

And drove…

And drove.

It was late when they crossed the Virginia state line. The darkness of night had long since settled in. Mother was getting weary. She complained of being so thirsty that she might just dry up and blow away. In the front seat Becky held James’ hand and every once in a while he would take his eyes off of the road to look at her.

Suddenly the family heard a siren come up behind them. It was the police! James pulled off onto the shoulder and rolled down his window. The few moments it took for the officer to get out of his patrol car and waddle to the driver’s side window James rolled down, seemed like an eternity.

Officer Cole was a big man. He was tall with broad shoulders and a protruding belly. In ritual Cole polished his badge until a person’s reflection could be seen. “What have we done wrong? We wasn’t speeding.” James said.

“Well sir, you’ve got yourself a busted tail-light.”

Oh, this isn’t my car. I mean to say, this is my brother Harold’s car, we are just borrowing it. We didn’t know the light wasn’t workin’.”

“I’ll let you go but you have to promise me you’ll get it fixed as soon as possible.”

“Yes sir, we will, thank you.” Officer Cole tipped his hat to the ladies and waddled back to his patrol car.

“James,” Lois began tentatively in the back seat, “why don’t you let me drive? Mother and I will sit up front and you and Becky can get some rest.”

“Alrighty then, come on up here.” After a few minutes of playing musical chairs everyone got situated. Lois started up the car and pulled back out onto the road. An hour later, Lois was humming Amazing Grace just to keep herself away. Mother was beside her with hands folded in her lap. Her head was resting on the window and her mouth was slightly open. A little string of drool dribbled down her chin. In the back seat, James had his head back with his mouth wide open. He snored quietly. Becky’s head rested delicately on his shoulder. Her raven ringlets fell across her face. Lois began to notice that the vehicle was becoming more and more difficult to steer. The back tire began to make a whopping noise against the asphalt. The steering wheel jerked abruptly and Lois spun gravel in the shoulder of the road. Mother was jolted awake, her head slammed against the window and James was startled, his green eyes jumped open quickly.

James’ mind was foggy as he tumbled from the car. He stumbled around the vehicle and upon seeing the flat tire began to curse aloud, not stopping to apologize for his foul language. “Ahhhh, hell Lois, couldn’t ya keep her on the road?”

“James how dare you, it isn’t my fault that your broker can’t maintain his own car.!” The two continued to bicker, shouting vulgar obscenities at one another. Becky dumped all of her body weight onto the bumper of the car and began to sob uncontrollably. Mother came around, wiping the sleepy jacks from her eyes. She put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “Oh dear, it’s alright, nothing but a flat tire. Calm down now.” James and Lois had fallen silent, ashamed of their behavior. Becky continued, “All I wanted to do was come to Bristol, Tennessee and get married in my new dress! I’ve still got these ruined clothes on! We can’t even go two hours without James and Lois getting at each other’s throats and I’ve only got two days before my husband leaves home. I WANNA GO HOME!”

“It’s alright, Becky,” James said, trying to comfort her, his tone now quiet and calm. “I’ll get this flat fixed and we’ll be home in no time.” Becky nodded and the three women watched as James replaced the flattened rubber heap with a new tire.

James took the wheel again and they cruised back down the road. Becky tried her best to go to sleep but her outburst the hours before had pumped her adrenaline. Lois and Mother had managed to get fairly comfortable and snooze in the backseat. All was calm. They were headed home. There were no obstacles ahead of them. The headlights illuminated the yellow lines that raced along the middle of the road.

Fifteen miles out of Bristol the young couple was startled by a familiar sound. A cop was pulling them over again. James pulled off the road and slowly rolled down his window. The police officer strolled up flipping pages in his little black ticket book. “Sir, do you know that you have a busted tail light?”

“Yes sir, we do but we have not found any place open to get it fixed.” James replied.

“Well since it is late and I’m a nice guy I am going to let you off. But get that fixed!”

“Thank you, sir.” James replied. As the officer retreated back to his patrol car James muttered one of his favorite insults under his breath, “Rumhead.” Becky laughed at this comment he often used in contempt of someone.

It was well after midnight when the family rolled into Salem, Virginia. Becky’s sister, Eunice, who lived in town on Union Street offered them her spare bedroom for the night. They planned to take off Sunday morning on their real honeymoon.

Sunday morning James and Becky jumped in the car once more. They had two days and one night before James left home for two years. They wended through the beautiful countryside, stopping here and there to stretch their legs. The couple made it as far as Staunton before they had to stop for the night. They stopped at a tourist court. It was nothing more than a row of one-room cabins built for travelers passing through. The Tate’s opened the door to their cabin cautiously and stepped inside. In the middle of the room was a double bed with a patchwork quilt and four feather pillows. To the left of the doorway was a dresser, with a large mirror that ran horizontally across the top. In the corner was a nightstand, beside it a wingback chair. To the right of the door was a bathroom no bigger than a coat closet.

Becky put down her things and went into the bathroom to change into her nightgown. James picked up the local newspaper and sat down in the chair to relax. A few minutes later Becky opened the door and looked across the room at her husband, expecting to get some sort of reaction. James had fallen fast asleep. Becky crawled under the blanket and turned out the lights. Lying in the bed alone she peered through the darkness and listened to her husband snore. She had to smile. It was a sound that would fill her life for fifty-eight years thereafter.

‍ ‍***

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

-1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Of particular note is the nature of Harlan, Kentucky at the time of my grandparents marriage. In the 1930’s Harlan earned the name “Bloody Harlan” for an incident known as “The Harlan County War”. This began in 1931 when the coal company cut miners wages by 10%. Miners in that region were already paid on average, 40% less than unionized workers in other states. There were a series of violent skirmishes and strikes that took place involving coal miners and the union organizers on one side and the coal firms and law enforcement officials on the other. There were even some bombings and executions. The battle went on for nearly a decade, ending in 1939, only two years before my grandparents made their way there to be wed. While the peak of the "war" occurred in the 1930s, tensions flared one last time in the spring of 1941. On April 2, 1941, a deadly shootout broke out between union pickets and non-union workers at the Crummies Creek mine, leaving four men dead. It’s no wonder then, that local voting days, like the one my grandparents encountered on August 2, 1941, were intense times for the county. My grandfather, James Nicholas ‘Tug’ Tate was born on June 18, 1916 and died on June 2, 1999. He was one of 10 children, all of whom I remember from my childhood. They grew up in “the holler” near present Green Hill Park and attended Green Hill Church of the Brethren his entire life. My grandmother, Phillis Rebecca Phlegar was born Oct 9, 1922 and died November 20, 2015. She was one of six children, who also grew up in “the holler.” Of those children I remember fondly my Uncle Wayne & Aunt Lois. The Phlegar and Tate families grew up as neighbors and friends. My grandparents settled in the holler and lived there the entirety of their marriage, raising my dad and aunt there, who also grew up attending Green Hill Church of the Brethren. If you want to know my Papa Tate, just look at my daddy (spitting image and personality). And for my Grandma Becky, look to my aunt (both spunky as the days are long, but I wouldn’t tell them that, they are too much alike)! *

From This Day Forward: Part III

The Toliver house was a little shanty with a front porch on it, sagging to one side. Reverend Toliver opened the door and welcomed them into his humble abode. Becky tried to wipe the gummy tobacco tar off of her beige shoes and traveling dress. Her shantung dress remained pressed and folded in the backseat of Harold’s Car.

Becky, James, Lois, and Mother followed Reverend Toliver into the small clapboard house. The house had five rooms, the two largest being the living room adjoined by the kitchen. The living room was well polished, but also well worn. The perfectly square room was dimly lit. A few rays of white sunlight danced through the yellowing lace curtains that covered the miniscule square window. Becky instantly noticed that the curtains had been purchased from the Sears Roebuck Catalog; she had once longed for them herself. The rest of the room was scarcely decorated. A coffee table sat near the blackened hearth and on the table lay a tattered old Bible open to First Corinthians.

“Emma, honey, come on out here to the living room,” Toliver called. “We got us two lovely young people all fired up to exchange vows.” Lois, who was the most curious of the bunch, had been standing closest to the kitchen doorway. She shot wondering glances into the room, watching Emma bustle about. Emma was a professional homemaker. She was a plump little woman with a pug nose and rosy cheeks. At first sight she appeared pleasant. Her spirit rang all through the house.

At the kitchen table sat a young boy of six years old. He had fiery red hair and freckles from head to toe. He wore a pair of cutoff overalls and a t-shirt striped with maroon and navy blue. He had an old piece of newspaper in front of him and a pencil in hand. Lois could scarcely make out the doodling the child was drawing in the paper’s margins. Behind the table sat a sturdy but rusting cook stove. On it Emma was preparing to can peaches. The prodigious scent filled the shanty. It brought a smile to Becky’s face as it wafted under her nostrils. Peaches had been Becky’s favorite fruit since her early childhood. She placed her hand over her stomach to calm its rumblings; realizing she was quite hungry.

“Emma, didn’t you hear me the first time? Come on in here, we got to get these folks married so they can get out of town,” Reverend Toliver crowed becoming impatient. “Alright you old coot, hold yer horses a minute. I’m a busy woman, can’t just up and drop ever’thang.”

The young boy came in from the kitchen, slowly dragging a little wooden rocking chair behind him. He sat the rocker down in the middle of the room and preceded to make himself comfortable in it. The aging little chair creaked and groaned under the pressure of every move.

Emma wiped off her face with a dishtowel and pushed a few wisps of her snow-white hair back into place. She then removed her apron and smoothed her skirt. With a smile that lifted her rosy cheeks as she entered the living room, Emma welcomed the four strangers graciously and took her seat.

Becky and James stood side by side in front of Reverend Toliver, with Mother and Lois on either side of them. Becky’s hands were trembling and Mother already had tears trickling down her cheeks. James was so overwhelmed with the entire situation that his thoughts began to drift ever so slightly…”I can’t believe I am standing here in a shanty living room, in Harlan Kentucky no less!” C-R-E-A-K , C-R-E-A-K. The rocking chair moaned. “Keep a straight face,” James told himself. You've got to look strong, stand proud.” C-R-E-E-A-K, C-R-E-E-E-A-A-K. “I sure hope Becky will be alright once I go off to CO Camp. Thank the Good Lord, I won’t ever have to see battle, conscientious objectors that we are…but damn those Germans….”

“Ahhem.” Reverend Toliver cleared his throat. “James, do you take Becky to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?” With a grin and a bashful look down at his feet James replied, “I do.”

“And Becky…” “Phyllis Rebecca!” Mother interrupted. “Ah, yes,” amended Rev. Toliver, “Phyllis Rebecca, do you take James to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?” C-R-E-A-K. C-R-E-E-E-A-K. Emma shot a warning glare at her grandson. He immediately sat stock still in mid-rock.

“I do,” Becky answered with a slight crack in her voice.

Lois was beginning to sniffle now. Toliver had James’ full attention; Emma had a pleased smile on her face. The peaches simmered away on the stove and a grandfather clock could be heard in the next room. “By the power vested in me by the state of Kentucky, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Mother steadied herself on the coffee table. Lois loudly blew her nose causing Becky to giggle like a child. James laughed too and hugged Lois saying, “Jesus, Lois, you sound like a trumpet blaring!”

“Would y’all like to stay and visit with us for a bit. We’ve got plenty of peach cobbler and coffee. In fact, I’ve got more peaches around here than I know what to do with.” Mother was getting ready to thank Emma for her hospitality and accept her invitation when Reverend Toliver interjected. “ Emma, I don’t think that’s such a wise idea. This town is more flighty than a cuckoo’s nest on Election Day.” Turning to the couple he continued, "We always average at least three murders. After I sign this hear marriage license, you good folks best be headed on home.”

The newlyweds, along with Lois and Mother thanked the Reverend and his wife profusely. Emma even gave them some coffee and cobbler for the road. With that, they left the house and walked out to the car. While trying to get into the passenger seat Becky dribbled coffee on her dress. That’s when she realized that neither she nor James had ever changed into their nice clothes. “Well if I’m not a sight! My lands, look at this mess, tobacco spit on my skirt, coffee on my top, I haven’t even combed my hair through since this morning. Sure ain’t the way I planned to look on my wedding day.” Mother gave her forlorn daughter a hug. “It’s alright child, you’re married now, that’s all that matters.”

On that note, Kames started up the engine and they roared back out onto the road. “Looks like we’re gonna need some gas,” James grumbled. He pulled into the Exxon station and stopped the car near a pump. A young man, having a strange resemblance to Gomer Pyle peered through the dirty window of the service station. He was very uncertain on whether or not he should help these customers. They had out of state plates. Who would come into town from Virginia on Election Day? Eventually he came to the conclusion that customers were customers, and he was in dire need of some money. Ten minutes had passed while the young man was contemplating and James was beginning to grumble under his breath, his ears burning red more with every word. Finally, the attendant slowly came out of the garage door, spitting a wad of tobacco as he went, and strolled over to the car. Leaning over with his arms folded on the car door, he poked his head into the vehicle and said, “Howdy. Name’s Bobby. What can I do ya fer?”

***To Be Continued***

From This Day Forward Part II

At quarter of noon the couple, along with their escorts of course, rolled into Harlan, Kentucky. Harlan at that time was a coal mining town, no more than two blocks all together. Quickly constructed buildings and rundown shanty houses bordered the streets. On this particular day, August 2, 1941, it was Election Day for Harlan County! All the miners were off from work and the streets were lined with most of the citizens of Harlan.

Once again followed by Mother and Lois, Becky and James got out of the car. Walking up the sidewalk to the courthouse a gentleman approached the couple and asked, “Are you folks lookin’ to get married?”

“Well, yes sir, we are,” Becky answered, calmly countering his previous question. “Can you help us?”

“Well, ma’am, I’ll help ya any way I can. I’m Reverend Toliver of the Church-a-God. Now furst thang you gotta do is go over yonder and get your bloodwork done. After that, meet me back here and I’ll take ya over to the clerk’s office.”

An hour or so later the couple returned to the courthouse with a receipt from their blood tests. Lois and Mother rose from the bench under the old Oak Tree at the edge of the town square, fanning themselves as they made their way to meet Rev. Toliver once again. As the group walked briskly through the courthouse doors, they entered a large anteroom with with a balcony surrounding it on all sides. Now, it being Election Day, all the miners, farmers, and moonshiners had gathered to shoot the bull in the courthouse. Harlan’s finest took turns spitting tobacco from the balcony into the decorative spittoons below on the first floor. Lois wasn’t paying a bit of attention to where she was going and she happened to kick one of the full spittoons across the room. The amber-colored tobacco juice splattered all over Becky’s beige shoes and travel dress! “Oh, for heaven’s sakes Lois, look what you’ve done! Would you please watch where you’re going!”

Lois slapped her hands over her mouth in horror at the scene, “Becky I am so sorry; please forgive me!” James, who had stepped to the side, narrowly escaping the slimy substance, laughed out loud and slapped his knees in spite of himself. His flapping jaws quickly closed as Becky shot him a wicked glance of disgust, “Oh, shut up, James!” Mother stepped in between her two daughters and James to prevent any fists from meeting face while Rev. Toliver clasped his hands and rolled his eyes towards heaven.

After pushing through the riotous crowd, the group assembled themselves in a crescent shape around the clerk’s door. Two men stood guard at the oak paneled door with shot guns in hand. Two other gentlemen in dirty overalls and yellow teeth brushed past carrying the overstuffed ballot boxes. One of the men standing guard stopped the group in their tracks. “You folks picked the wrong day to come and get hitched; this is one helluva rough town on ‘lection day.”

Lois just couldn’t understand how a county election could be so important that men hand to stand guard with shotguns. The look of confusion on her face provoked the guard to continue, “we don’t want no riots here, or no shootings neither. We watch this here door to Ms. Allen’s chambers so nobody will try to permanently remove her from her duties.”

Becky was rather anxious to be wed and she was determined that all of the previous setbacks were going to end here. “Well, I don’t care if she’s the Queen-a-England,” Becky said, “I’m gonna get married. TODAY!”

Well then, the guard, who seemed to have forgotten he was a man with a rifle, took a step back at her abruptness and stammered, “Come on, I’ll let y’all in.”

Within fifteen minutes, Becky, James, Mother and Lois, along with Rev. Toliver, had met with the clerk and found their way back through the boisterous crowd of spittoon shooters to the sidewalk. “Awright, I can marry you folks here in the square, in your car, or out at my place,” the preacher offered.

Mother interjected at this time, “We’ll go to your house. We are Christian people. We’re not supposed to get married on a lawn or in a car.” Alright then, the Reverend agreed, “Let’s go. It’s about two miles outta town.”

***To Be Continued***

From This Day Forward: Part 1

It was the summer of 1941. One of the hollows just below Twelve O’ Clock Knob rang with the sawing of boards and the hammering of new nails from the local hardware store. Over all the ruckus, you could hear James Tate damning the entire construction site while he sucked the blood from beneath his smashed thumbnail (he loved Jesus but he definitely cussed a little). James was a short man with medium build, a full head of slightly wavy brown hair, and a pug nose. James was helping build a new house for his father-in-law to be, Mr. Harry Phlegar. James could not help but give a hearty chuckle when his saw the strong-headed eighteen-year-old fiancé come stomping across the yard.

Becky stopped at the bottom of the ladder and instinctively placed her hands on her hips. “Alright now, you said back in September we was gonna get married. Now you’re leavin’ in five days for the service; are we gonna get married ‘fore then or not?” James removed the nail from his mouth, hammered it into the two-by-four, and hopped down from the ladder.

“Well,” he said, I don’t know if we got enough money to just up and get married right now.” Becky pressed her thin lips together, crossed her arms and began tapping the toe of her white sandals in the sawdust.

“James, between us we got forty dollars saved up. That oughta be enough for two folks to get married on.” James studied Becky’s face with his green eyes and knew that there was no sense in trying to contradict her. “Well then, Miss Priss,” he said smirking, “I reckon you done already made up your mind to go traipsing to Bristol on Saturday so we can have a quickie. I’ll get my brother Harold’s car tomorrow so we can head on down there.”

You see, the two lovebirds didn’t have time two wait three days for the state to issue them a marriage license and also get a blood test, thus the reason for traveling out of state. As Becky turned from James and ventured back into the house, Mr. Phlegar watched her go with a hand shading his eyes. He stopped just long enough to say, “Son, I suppose you’ve learned as well as I have that when there is a fire in that young wolf cub’s eyes, its best to let her howl.”

And so it was decided. On Friday morning, Becky got up and began to pack an overnight bag with a few necessities and her brand new dress. The frock had a tight bodice of beige shantung with a pleated skirt that fell just below her knees. Becky held the dress up to her shoulders and pranced in front of her mothers full-length mirror. Becky’s coffee eyes had become glazed with daydream when her mother, Margaret, and sister, Lois barged into the room. “Phyllis Rebecca, you are not going on this trip alone,” her mother insisted. “Lois and I are going along to see that you get married. Mother Margaret said this with a firmness in her voice, clearly stating that there would be no buts about it.

James pulled into the driveway early Saturday morning. He sat at the wheel of a 1939 Ford. Becky sat in the passenger seat while mother and Lois took over the back. The three Phlegar women and James arrived in Bristol around 10:30 that morning. Mother folded and unfolded her handkerchief with nervousness and Lois chattered on like a bird waking at the brink of dawn. The couple tumbled out of the car and ran up the steep stairs of the courthouse, mother and Lois puffing along behind. Once inside, they stopped before a large desk of solid pine, where a man sat with beady black eyes and a shining bald crown. “I’m sorry,” the clerk said, while he removed his pocket square and began to pat his brow nervously. “Just yesterday, on the first of August, a law was passed stating that after the first of the month there must be a three day waiting period for marriages. I’m so sorry but I simply cannot issue you a license.”

Becky’s eyes welled with warm tears and James balled his hands into fists trying to calm his temper. The clerk leaned forward over the desk and whispered conspiratorially, “Well I can’t do it, but if you’re all fired up to get married today, I’ve been sending people over to Harlan, Kentucky.” James mumbled a thank you to the clerk through his set jaw and the group stepped out into the bright sun, already blazing on the sidewalk.

***To Be Continued***

Outer Order = Inner Calm

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“There's no "right" or "best" way to create a better life.
Nevertheless, while each of us may define and achieve outer order in different ways, it's clear that for most people, outer order does indeed contribute to inner calm.”
― Gretchen Rubin, Outer Order, Inner Calm: Declutter & Organize to Make More Room for Happiness

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Two things to know about me:

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One: Once I begin a project, I like to finish it.  Whether it is writing a sermon or purging a junk drawer, my achiever nature longs to see the finished product. 

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Two: I have very little patience regarding how much time it may take me to complete a task through to the end. 

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It has been with dogged intensity that I have worked through our house over the past two weeks. I struggled to turn off the switch of my mind regarding what I wanted to accomplish. Even Kemper said to me one evening, “mom I think you should probably take a break, you’ve been doing this all day.”  He was right.  I began in my bedroom, needing it to be a space of sanctuary to retire at the end of each day. Then I moved on, little by little throughout the house, combing through drawers and closets both purging and storing at the same time. I moved furniture and switched artwork around. I moved bins and emptied boxes only to fill them again.

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The house was spotless when we moved back in (thank you SO much), but we blew through like a tornado. I am pleased to say that slowly but surely, the wreckage has been cleared. I would shuffle a pile from one room to the next, having to remind myself that everything would have its place in due time.  I just felt like I couldn’t focus on anything else until the house felt like home again.   

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  To do so was to create space for Michael’s mementos and memory to be sprinkled throughout the house.  The Legos, the books, the pictures.  His treasures have become our treasures.  Although I will say, if I never see another box of cords, or unidentifiable (to me) tools or tech, it will not hurt my feelings. My hope is that these things will remind us of all the good memories we shared as a family and to be surrounded by things that represented all that he loved. And nothing was more cherished by Michael than us.  So, I imagine that even though he would wish that I knew exactly what all those cords go to, or how to utilize all his gadgets in the kitchen, more than anything else, he would want us to be happy in our home. 

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And so, outer order brings inner calm.  The more I sorted and organized, the more I felt a sense of peace.  Accomplishment and pride, yes, but also confident tranquility.

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We’ll be okay.

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Watch Over Me

I had such a wonderful restorative weekend with some of my favorite humans; some in the crowd, some on the stage. To know me is to know I love the band Hanson. They’ve been my people since I was 14 years old. I’ve had countless memories over the years and the music has never failed to meet me where I am in life. This weekend my friends and I got to see them perform on both Friday and Saturday night! Interestingly enough, on Friday they played a song that hasn’t been in the setlist in a long time called “Watch Over Me”. It’s always been a favorite so a great treat. But then, they played it again on Saturday night. And my friend JP says its the Hanson song I never knew I needed. That it was God sending me a wink. So the first night, it didn’t hit me hard, but Saturday night, I got the message loud and clear and the tears flowed. Because I know God is watching over us and has surrounded us with the most wonderful family and friends to get us through this season of life.

The lyrics to the song are below and a link to watch it live if you so wish. As the guys would tell you, “never apologize for music that makes you feel good.”

WATCH OVER ME (2007)

She wakes and takes her place in line
And never bothers to ask why the mirror sheds no light at all
The days turn into lesser days until there's only night
The light it wouldn't help she's too far gone

Her time is up it's five o'clock
It never stops

And she says please, and she says please
And she says please, watch over me

I watch her slowly make her way
Down on a road she shouldn't take
She always ends where she began

The years go by, they're adding up
She clicks her heels but she's still stuck
She's giving in but won't give up she'll never stop

And she says please, and she says please
And she says please, watch over me
And she says please, and she is,
On her knees and she begs and she pleads

Na na na na na na na na na
Na na na na na na na na na
Na na na na na na na na na
Na na na na na na na na na

She counts the time 'til her heart breaks
Just waiting for her next mistake

And she said please, and she says please
And she says please, watch over me

On her knees and she begs and she pleads she says
Please, and she says please and she says please watch over me

She counts the time 'til her heart breaks
Just waiting for her next mistake
Don't give up I know you've stopped believing
And you're down and you're begging you're pleading
Don't give up cause you're not too far gone

https://youtu.be/G-ScGu0wap0?si=bNnAMTooCEtCe91A

Light Bringer

One evening, on the way to buy a frosty after VBS, I saw the tiniest flash of white leap from the edge of Raphine Road into the brush. “Is that a kitten?” I exclaimed as I pulled the car over.  I opened the car door and heard the most pitiful little mew repeatedly.  I crossed over the road and there she was in the bushes. The tiniest little white and orange fluff ball you’ve ever seen! Seeing nor hearing any other kittens or a mama cat about, I determined to at least take her back to the house to keep her safe until we decided what to do with her.  With the carnival coming the next week and the traffic on the road, I simply couldn’t leave her out there alone. The following morning, we took her to the vet…and then there were four (cats that is).   In my defense, I did try to give her away to several people. 

We named her Lucy Furr. She is living into this name, 110%!  She is wild and woolly approximately three-fourths of the time.  Since we have been staying with my parents, she has enjoyed sitting pretty-as-you-please in the dining room, safely ensconced behind a pet gate, torturing the dog, Izzy, who impatiently barks and sticks her nose under the kitchen side of the gate trying to get to her.  Lucy recently discovered how to scale the gate and leap over into the kitchen…she’s had some rude awakenings in those instances. She also climbs my legs, slashes my hands while typing, and attacks my hair like a vicious beast. Lucy Furr indeed!

But she is also living in her name in another way; one I did not realize would be so poignant when we rescued her. You see, calling her Lucy came to mind as soon as I picked her up, before I even knew her gender.  The reason Lucy Furr came about was because Michael and Kemper were joking about naming the kitten Lucifer…thinking that would be hilarious for a PK (Pastor’s Kitty). And so, it is.  But several people have commented that God sent Lucy to us to help us through our grief in these last few weeks.  I believe that is absolutely the case.  Then I looked up what the name Lucy means, and it means “light” or “light bringer.”  How cool is that?  God literally sent Lucy to us in some of our darkest days to bring light into our hearts.  Because she isn’t always a wild child.  She is also Queen Bean…she snuggles up and sleeps under my chin.  She licks our faces in the morning and purrs in our ears like a bumble bee. She has brought laughter and comfort in a time when tears and discomfort are paramount.

I may not always know what will come next, but I’ve had plenty of reminders that God has always had his eye on the sparrow. I know he watches me. 

Even the sparrow finds a home
    and the swallow a nest for herself,
    where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts,
    my King and my God.

-Psalm 84:3

6 Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten in God’s sight. 7 But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.—Luke 12:6-7

Refinement

But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner’s fire and like washers’ soap;  he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness.

-Malachi 3:2-3

Cleanse my soul

Make me whole

Usher me down

Torch my fears

Let me burn

Hold me near

Search my shadows

Know me better

Than I do

Purify my thoughts

Light the dark

Polish my scars

Smooth these edges

Down these walls

Melt my misconceptions

Reduce to ashes

Sift the pain

Let me remain.

LTM 2001

Alpha & Omega

 I see light

In dark places

Because you are there

Your spirit lulling

Fears I cannot hide

I silence my voice

When in despair

Because you are there

Holding my hand

Tightening grip on loose ends

I meet faces

That know no stranger

Because you are there

To radiate all you

Encompass through them.

LTM 8/29/01

In Fact, You Can

In high school, my English teacher gave us a writing assignment.  We were to write our own sonnet, in perfect iambic pentameter.  Being the little snot that I was, and as much as I loved this teacher, I balked at the idea of my creativity being limited by such antiquated requirements.  I chose not to turn in the assignment.  But Mr. Tordoff pressed me, encouraged me, and challenged me to try. What came out of the assignment is to this day, over 25 years later, one of the works I am most proud of. Because as it turns out, I could in fact write a beautiful poem in 14 lines, in a certain rhythm, with a specific rhyme. I learned something about myself, which at that age is really the best lesson. 

Wrought

Alone she sat in lustrous chamber room

Confined by memories, melted bygone days

She: blinded from a thick tenacious haze

Cursed fruitless Cupid for her ceaseless gloom

Above her head a somber cloud did loom

She contemplated love’s last glory blaze

And why she can’t go back to yesterdays

To watch the roses’ crimson petals bloom

She fondles garnet earrings in her ear

The russet blood stones glisten, glimmer, glint

They’re reminders that she once fell in love

And miracles, perfect fall from above

She wonders if her God might get the hint

To send her back her Valentine so dear

I forget

Bled for me

so that I

might have life

I take all

batter, bruise it

curse my blessings

I cast aside

Your will for me

if it does not suit

I am lazy

forsaking You

let your wisdom rot

For granted

I let life slip away

Only looking at the pain

But You bled

for me so

That I might find none

Crown of thorns

nailed to cross

my tears already shed

I never count

the cost

I forget the cross

LTM  8/29/01

Little Things

O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endure forever.

  -Psalm 107:1

Little Things

God is not

the dusty leather-bound book

with its tattered pages and faded words

sitting on a shelf displayed.

A family heirloom of four generations,

but do you know it?

Can you quote your favorite verse?

God is not

the cross that dangles

at the base of your neck.

He is neither the silver nor the gold.

It is only a reminder.

That charm cannot save you.

God is not

the empty promises,

the beg of pardon from sins

that we regurgitate on Sunday morning

after a Saturday night

of partying with our friends.

No, you find him more

in the little things.

He is the fog of breath

left on a frosty windowpane. 

You draw a picture in it

and walk away.

The picture is still there

even after the breath fades away.

He is the sweaty print

On the linoleum floor,

left by a baby’s first step. 

The imprint will die

but it is the first of many

to grace your floor.

He is the weed

that grows at your feet.

To it no attention do you heed.

It may not be the most perfect flower,

but he put it there, just the same.

God is

the dimple in your smile,

the sweat of your brow,

the dirt of labor under your nail.

It is in the little things

where we might find

the simplicity of God’s grace shine.

Do not move so quickly,

Watch details be etched in time. 

LTM 1/11/01

Creator of all, let us see you. Guide our eyes, our ears, our minds, and our hearts so that we might find you, not only in the grandeur of mountains, but in the simplicity and quietness of a blade of grass.  Help us to help others look hard for your gifts found everywhere, in boldness and in subtlety.  In Jesus name, amen.

Reunion Top Ten

As I reflect on the celebration of my 20th college reunion, I am reminded of God’s precious gift in creating us to be in community.  In God’s infinite wisdom he places people in our lives who will uplift us to become the very best version of ourselves. Often these people become our chosen family. These are the people who walk alongside you in the dark, these are the people who grieve with you.  These are the people who not only shine the light upon you but dance in it with you, celebrating every triumph. They give tough love when you need it, they are the rainbow after the rain.  God has given me precious people at every juncture of my life.  I’ve had the same best friend/sister since I was 7 years old and she is precious to me.  I have friends that I made over a decade ago at a Hanson show who have been there for me through all manner of life experiences. I have my seminary friends, which is a special type of bond!  And I have my Hollins sisters who keep me going and keep me on my toes for that matter.  I believe Jesus had this relationship with his disciples. Yes, at times he became exasperated with them.  At times they let him down or didn’t understand his life, but they kept walking with him. I do not doubt for a second that their relationship included joking and ribbing one another, swapping stories around a campfire under the stars, and bolstering each other’s spirits when the road became difficult.  When Jesus could no longer walk this earth preaching and teaching, they took up the mantle to glorify him.  Everyone needs that. I hope you have that in your life. At Hollins there is a tradition called Ring Night, in which students get their class rings.  Throughout the weekend festivities, posters are often created by ‘ring sisters’ giving praise for various students, faculty, etc.  In that spirit, since it is a special weekend, I thought I would create one for my “treasures.” Maybe it can inspire you to make one too. 

 TOP 10 THINGS I LOVE ABOUT MY TREASURES:

10. We spent endless hours around a table in the dining hall discussing everything and nothing all at once for four years (we still love a good dinner sesh).

9. We have always been able to easily transition from sweatpants to sequins, multiple women in tiny bathroom transformations (hair done, make-up applied, zippers zipped).

8. In practicality, our parties started early and ended at a reasonable hour for beauty sleep. (even more so now)

7. Birthdays have always been celebrated; since our freshman year it is a special day to love on your people.  (I’ve been given confetti cake more times than I can count).

6. These women are smart! The combined mental acumen regarding business, psychology, grant-writing, parenting, wilderness survival, finances, travel, on and on (we could take over the world).

5. There is the desire to purchase a deserted island and live together in a commune (guess who the spiritual director will be).

4. They make me laugh daily (real belly laughs).

3. If I need them, they come running (literally and figuratively).

2. If one of us disappears, she will be found. National guard, drone supply drops, harrowing rescues (unsolved mysteries do not exist). Along that same vein—" no body, no crime.”

1. Though I am an only child, they are my sisters.  We have stood by each other through the joys of weddings and childbirth, multiple moves and career changes, holding hair and holding hands. We have cried and mourned together the losses of grandparents, parents, and friends.  We love each other’s families and children as if they are blood relatives (I would trust my child’s life in every one of their hands).  

A “May-cember” reminder

 The phrase “May-cember” has been coming up in recent years, an acknowledgement that for many people, the schedule of events in May is just as harried as those in the December holiday season. There are comings and goings from graduation parties to weddings, to celebrating the birth of children, and parents preparing for summer break with children out of school. It’s a busy time. I wrote this originally in June of 2019, ,but it still applies.

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As I was driving along the Parkway on Sunday Morning, just past Mabry Mill, I saw a majestic doe crossing the road with her tiny baby, who still had its precious spots displayed quite vividly. I slowed almost to a stop so that I could get a good look at this tiny creature before she leapt into the woods with her Mama. Isn’t it amazing how our Creator sees to every hair on our heads? This precious deer was following the lead of its protective mother, and after just a fleeting moment of curiosity, she made her way into the woods, well camouflaged with her spots in the dappled sun rays shining down.

I’m a lot more attentive to nature than I once was. I delight in feeling the warmth of sun on my skin. I look forward to chances to witness the pastel sunrise or the blazing sunset. While I cannot grow flowers to save my life, I love to see beautiful flowers in bloom, especially wildflowers! It delights me to drive into the mountains and see the variations of vegetation and color. I am fascinated by the shadows of clouds on the mountain range. There is something sacred about seeing the Blue Ridge stretch out for miles and miles. There is peace in the rolling hills of the Roanoke Valley with the ancient mountains standing like sentries in the distance.

I wonder if in the hustle for our worthiness, the constant time crunch, the rush of hither and yon…we fail to witness the miracles of this precious Creation in which we dwell. When was the last time you attempted to find Orion’s Belt in the night sky or get lost counting the stars? When was the last time you sat on a porch swing with a glass of sweet tea in your hand without a phone or laptop in front of you? Have you played catch and release with fireflies? Have you heard the thrum of a bullfrog on a summer evening? Would you choose to drive on a country road instead of a highway to reach your destination? Would you stop and help a turtle cross the road?

Creation runs on patience you know? It takes eons for evolution to occur. It takes centuries for massive trees to take root and grow tall. Nature cannot force the rain to cool a drought nor coax the sun’s rays to dry up a flood. It is all by God’s design. For us, just as much as the rest of creation, we must rest in the promise of God’s plan, God’s purpose, God’s grace. So perhaps we should take a cue from all that is around us and slow down. And perhaps in doing so we would appreciate what we have a bit more. Perhaps we would see it as a treasure to protect rather than a commodity to extort.