OPEN LETTER TO MYSELF

I was recently going through the pockets of my Bible cover and discovered this open letter to myself dated June 20, 1998 which began as a target to a  specific audience.

It reminded me of some of the difficult issues I was facing during that time in my life that were not so pleasant.


Dear Self;
I am again amazed at the role "patience" should have in my life.
How impatient I can be while waiting for a husband or a child who is taking longer to yield to God or a brother or sister who causes our hearts to break.
I have been impressed with William Barclay's  statement that "Generally speaking the word is not used of patience in the regard to things or events but in regards to people."
How easy it is to get caught up in impatience and anxious attitudes.  After all it is my sinful nature.  Showing patience has been an everyday struggle, yet I am called to "put on a heart of...patience" Col.3:12 and I am "to walk"...with patience"  Eph.4:1,2.
May I learn to use these times to pray, reflect, and plan my response in a godly manner.
Please do not allow your prayers to languish on my behalf!  God IS working in my life.  Please continue to pray that I will make every effort to follow through on what God would have me do.
I hesitate in sharing as to what the Lord is accomplishing yet out of gratefulness toward your prayers, I feel it essential for encouragement.  What a reminder to the awesome power of bringing my requests to God and being granted answers.
I marvel at how unique we all are in our thought process and in our way of handling life's situations yet if we allow sin to settle in our hearts it affects us all in the same way.
When I request prayer, I better be prepared for greater growth!
 I better be prepared for evaluating many visiting issues!  I better be prepared for CHANGE.
I had been so overwhelmed and frustrated by what I could not do instead of what I could do.
Another look at that "Proverbs 31 woman" and I threw my hands in despair "Lord" I said "I am overwhelmed and I can't do this on my own".
God's reminder came again through Ps.46:10, "Be still (QUIET! TIME OUT!, STOP-Striving and KNOW THAT I AM GOD!"
I had to again remind myself "Yes, Lord, you are firmly in control when all else indicates otherwise."

I was alerted to my reluctance in fulfilling some of my responsibilities and reaffirming my commitment to my husband.
Some "first" delights were rekindled, however, there is still the struggle with a tendency to submit to "old ways"--to expect/demand that one function at a more mature level with perhaps capabilities that are not as developed as mine.  Yet should I be expecting more because God's standards are higher?
Yes, I struggle with occasions of discouragement yet God has promised strength, Phil.4:13.
In my effort to fight complacency may I dissolve any appearance of "self-sufficient" attitudes.  The Christian life is not passive!  Yet I struggle with the wanting the "easy way out" if I can find it.
Why does the growth I thought had occured seem to vanish like vapor?
Why do I desire relief from God's discipline instead of seeking to profit from it?
Why do I fail to respond to difficulties in a "God-honoring" way?
PRAY that I would pour my spiritual energies into what is true fruit.
PRAY that I will not become complacent; now is not the time or will it ever be.  May I never have the attitude that "I have arrived" and so feel because of my age that there is NO MORE ROOM FOR GROWTH.
PRAY that I would not lose my sensitivity to what IS sin, to tolerate it or even accept it!
I appreciate you "younger" people because you are an encouragement and a challenge to me to keep on the right path, for your strengths and knowledge of God's Word.  What a responsibility. 
May you continue to show others what God's Word says and how it applies to your situations and issues in life.
I appreciate you even "older" people because of your timely wisdom.
May we all grow in the direction of being more concerned for God's glory.
Becky
 

GCC Alzheimer's Ministry Update

Alzheimer's Ministry Update

We focused on God’s omniscience this morning.
How can knowing this attribute be an encouragement?
>He is our own personal Savior.
>He is gracious and forgiving...
>He tolerates us
>Nothing about us is a surprise to him
>He knows we will have a bad day
>We have very busy lives and tend to forget
Him but He does not forget us.

As we think of our day, it is a comfort to know
God is there and actively involved.
When do we tend not to think about God?
>When we are tired
>When things are going well
>When we are overworked
>When we are to sick
>When we sin.
God uses trials to get His work done.

Reminiscing With Dad: Zapotitlan de Mendez

So this morning on my walk with Dad, our conversation drifted to the topic, caves, and he was describing this grotto near where we lived in Mexico in the late 40's, early 50's.
 I was not as appreciative of the beauty of the 
 country which we lived in until now.
We lived in the shadow of that catholic church you see in the video and the antique bridge which still look the same as it did when we lived there.  I am sure that Dad has many other stories of those years, in this village.
Of course when we lived there, this village was very remote, with no roads for vehicles.  We traveled by foot, horse, or mule, or on someones back like I did when I was small. The people, here, were resistant to the gospel and on occasion our lives were threatened.  Dad was advised to leave for a period of time but left my mother, me, and my brother in the village for about a month until things cooled down.
He was assured that his family would not be harmed and God protected us during this time.

A SADNESS CREEPS OVER ME

A sadness creeps over me as I watch the accomplishments and family events occurring in my friends lives, a loss of future experiences for me, as I ponder moments of my son’s absence.
The emotional toll of watching his friends getting married and having children.

 The little moments that remind me of him.  In the midst of this I am more aware of the moments that we no longer have but treasure the moments we did.
It is an emotional roller coaster and I never know how I am going to feel in the next moment even though it has been over a year.

As a mother, I wish, I had been with him that one last time.
Even in his last moments, alone, I am comforted by the fact that God WAS there with him.In the midst of all this I am painfully aware to “guard my heart from negative invasions” that cause me to question God’s love,
to question His sovereignty.
My perception of life has changed.  What was important in the past doesn’t mean as much.
Scriptures and history remind me that I am an immigrant here on earth.  That status remains the same.  My journey has been long and sometimes perilous, but rich and rewarding.  I am just passing through.


“We are here for only a moment, visitors and strangers in the land as our ancestors were before us. Our days on earth are like a passing shadow, gone so soon without a trace.”
I Chronicles 29:15   LL

One of my most treasured memories with my son was a walk on the Donner Memorial State Park Nature Trail.  Little did we both know that it would be one of the last.
It was a quiet, serene, pleasant walk and I enjoyed it very much.  We paused on the bridge to watch the flowing water, trout and schools of minnows and marveled at all the green around.  I captured a moment of him in his usual, pensive, observant stance and snapped a picture.
He in turn captured one of me as we turned to walk up the thin trail, lined with various signs of God’s creation.
My thoughts turned to how pleasant the surroundings to that of the Donner Party of whom many died in such a place in pursuit of their dreams to journey west.
They were just passing through too.
My immigration status:  Just passing through.

The-best-roads-are-dirt  CLICK HERE
Caught-unprepared-feeling-of-horrible. CLICK HERE

WHERE WAS I ?

“Where was I?”  “Where am I now?”

“Once I was young, and now I am old. Yet I have never seen the godly abandoned or their children begging for bread.”  Psalm 37:25

I will be 66, August 25th.

My life is a bit more of a mess than I would ever have imagined years ago that I would be in this season of life.

I feel like life is sometimes and more often overwhelming-challenging-heartbreaking all the while being encouraging and inspiring.

Life has turned out very different than I had hoped for.  It is telling me it’s OK to feel like you’re falling apart, because in so many ways I am.  I tend to forget that I live in a fallen world.  I am part of the truth and reality of the fall.  I have been experiencing body decline.

“ I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.  For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.  For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope  that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.”  Romans 8:18-20

I am constantly reminding myself to surrender to the concept that God is amazingly in control of my life.
So with that in mind, I should not miss the should’ves, could’ves,would’ves in life.
Life is never the same.

“Every day has been under God’s wise and careful administration”  in spite of the choices I have made.

“all the days ordained for me were written in your book".  Psalm 139:16

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
Romans 8:28

6 Warnings From an Outsider

About Mennonites: 6 Warnings From an Outsider. | LateToEveryParty

I thought this was a very amusing blog post and being that my fathers side of the family comes from good Mennonite stock, I could relate to some of this.  I could not resist sharing it.  Most of our family settled in Kansas, although my grandmother was born in one of the Dakotas.



"Everyone sings and plays some
kind of instrument. They are infinitely better than you and all of your
non-Mennonite friends. I’m convinced it’s something to do with their
mutated genetics. Mutations resulting from surviving in subzero
temperatures on borscht for centuries. They sing at the family
gatherings, they sing their prayers, they sing for everything. Face the
music – you are marrying the Sasquatch version of the Von Trapps. If you
don’t sing or play anything, it’s time to learn something. FAST.


* Tip: If you’re not musically gifted and my theory is sound, eat borscht and pray for talent.


Take a deep breath and realize your family is equally as crazy. There
are just a lot less of them. Congrats! You are so blessed to be
marrying into a huge, loving, musical, close, beautiful and crazy
sasquatch-family!"

Care Giving: THE ART OF ADAPTING

One of the things I learned quickly in care giving was the art of adapting.There comes a time when a loved one no longer has the ability to summon for help or function in our perceived normal.

After driving myself crazy running back and forth down a long hallway to check-up on a loved one, I was prompted to purchase a baby monitor.
During wheelchair joy rides to the front door in the wee hours of the morning to trips made to the closet for Sunday clothes every night, this became very useful.
When it became necessary to add 24 hr. care and it became necessary to be alerted to many other odd behaviors at night, we pinned those Christmas jingle bells to the covers or sheets in unreachable, difficult areas.  During the day, a cluster of jingle bells dangled from the handles of the wheelchair.  The monitor would pick up these alerts in another room.

REMINDER:
So keep alert!  
Eph.6:18
"Praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints."

MY LADY: Care Giving With MUSIC

Care giving is like classical music.

Now why would I tend to think that?

I am quite musically challenged and can not read music, let alone pronounce the titles to some. I am still not to fond of classical music, however, during those five years, I gained more of an appreciation for it and those who play an instrument or sing.
Prior to care giving of My Lady, I knew very little about classical music.( I am listening to classical music as I write this) I am drawn to memories of those five years that I cared for My Lady.
She was an avid musician and could recognize a piece of music within seconds of hearing the beginning of a piece.
  We used to play this little game of which I would play ,from a CD, a piece and see how fast she could tell me what it was. (At first & middle stages of AD)

She played the piano almost to the end, albeit, with “mistakes” that became more frequent as the disease advanced.

It gave her much joy and when these little episodes of mistakes occurred, she would cheerfully declare that she just needed to practice more.

Ponchielli: La Gioconda-Dance of the Hours is a long song of almost 8 min. with ups & downs, and loudness to soft and smacks of carnival music that I believe truly expresses my care giving journey.    This piece was used in Disney’s Fantasia, one of my favorites.

The Opera’s title translates as THE HAPPY WOMAN, but is usually given in English as THE BALLAD SINGER.  The story revolves around a woman, Gioconda, who loves her mother in the 17th century.
  Well, I won’t go into the rest of the story.  Just Google it if you are interested.

My goal for this post is to encourage you to explore music with your Loved Ones.  Make it part of your care routine.  Use it creatively to motivate your Loved One into action on some particular activity.

CARE GIVING: Cell Phone Use while on the job.

 
 Several elements about cell phone use while on a care giving assignments.

• "The caregiver is distracted by the phone call or the text. This is time you are paying for, but more importantly, during this time of distraction, your loved one could fall, take the wrong medication or just plain feel lonely and left out."
• "Many elders have hearing problems. They may think the carer is talking to them and get confused when they respond and don't get an answer."
• "Someone with dementia may become paranoid. They hear a person talking to someone who isn't there. This can lead the person with dementia to wonder who else is in the house and become an issue that lasts far longer than the phone call by the carer"

Ask Agencies about Cell Phone Policy Use 


 Add to your list of questions when interviewing a care agency, a question about cell phone use policy. A good agency should have one in place. If they do not and you bring it up, they should be honest and say there isn't one but there should be a policy by the time your loved one is added to their agency care list.

One of the complaints I had while managing care for family members was about cell use.  It can be very annoying to hear someone in the wee hours happily talking to someone in another country in a language you do not understand.

CHOOSING LYRICS & CARE GIVERS

I am musing on the fact that I enjoy Mariachi music.

  Why?
Perhaps because it moves me, stirring up certain emotions of happiness, sadness, and a rebellious sort of mood.
It conjures up memories of my earlier years,  of being woken up with the sounds of  “Las Mananitas” in the early morning, a traditional song used to celebrate birthdays. 

My Lady

The lyrics frequently describe country life and people of a particular region.  They often celebrate moments in the lives of the Mexican people.
Unlike other music, they do not have a lead singer.  Each singer is assigned a different song based on their talents.
Music, unlike any other activity, lightens and brightens the burdens of care giving.  Each care giver is assigned a different care talent and brings into the care equivalent a different perspective.  The tendency to have to high of expectancies can be a hindrance in the selection.   That can be good or bad.
A good grasp of a language that I understand is very important.  I often ask to speak to some one who’s American English  I understand.  With poor hearing, struggling with comprehension, and loss of cognitive abilities this is high on my list.
On the occasions where language has been an issue, then writing detailed instructions and requiring log entries will help.
I choose my lyrics with care.  It may not sound like a Mariachi concert but my singers will come with all sorts of unforeseen talents and blessings.

ALZHEIMER'S~ How Heavy Is Your Bag?

HOW HEAVY IS YOUR BAG?

I have decided that I need a new bag.  The looks of my present bag confirms that fact.
Becoming a care giver gives new meaning to the word “bag” and new meaning to the words “be prepared”.

As life changes, so does the contents of my bags.  Knowing the essentials to place in my bag helps me feel more comfortable in any situation.
Unexpected events will happen!  Plan on it!
What do I place in my care giving bag?
There is always the basic original items that may be needed depending on the needs and a few other things to make the adventure more comfortable:

Extra personal items
Tissues and wet wipes
Cloth drool wipers

Healthy snacks
Hand sanitizer
Mad money
Small bottles of water that can fit in your bag without taking up a lot of room or weighing it down.

So no matter what the size or shape of my bag, it is the contents and the way I carry it that makes a difference.
Be equipped to leave home by placing your bag somewhere by the front door.  There is no need to pack each time.  Be prepared!

ALZHEIMER'S: SWITCHING GEARS

LET’S SWITCH GEARS
My co-care giving husband often said to Gary “Switch Gears, Gary!”

 In awkward positions of resistance in public places, many times found us searching for ways to entice him back in to the car after an adventure.  The expression, to “Switch gears” became our motto.
Now if you can imagine trying to back up into a tight squeeze spot with the front facing out.  Now imagine an old lady trying to do it with many tries.

Most often “switching gears” meant
 change of speed, direction and backing up, walking around the car, turning the music on, and trying again just to get into the car.
We fight changes of speed, changes in direction,  In Alzheimer’s there is no backing up to what it was like.  They will never come back to our world so to keep sanity park in theirs.

Alzheimer's? You're Asking Me?

I was recently asked to consider writing a “corner” of vignettes for our Alzheimer’s Support newsletter at church.  The goal being to draw upon my nine years of Alzheimer’s care giving experiences.
My first inclination was to decline, however, as my thoughts drifted toward the journeys, and adventures I have had and what blessings they have been, I thought it best to reconsider.
I have blogged about many of these adventures in past blogs, however, I will attempt somehow to invite you to read between the lines so to speak and perhaps give you more of a picture of the drama and challenges that may occur behind the care giving journey.
I have also been considering as to the content, drawing from my experiences and observations, and repetitive questions (Not from Loved Ones) raised during our support meetings.
This will be a challenge to me because it will require me to decide on what would be most helpful to my audience.  Some of them will be on the practical side of care giving and little helps here and there as to making it a little easier and perhaps touching on some behavior issues.
As my thoughts continued to sift through as to what my first blog (I guess this is my first blog) on this particular topic would be, I was considering which specific part of care giving is on my top priority list for today.
I came up again with the topic of walking, running a race and preparing for it.
Care giving is not a sprint either.  It IS a marathon!  It IS a relay race!A mistake in care giving is the tendency to jump into the race after a few calls from the emergency room or a diagnosis and get caught in emotional drama.
“It is wise to pace your-self--ASK FOR HELP,  and look at the big picture and make short and long-range plans.”
Once you have reached out attempt to accept that help.  You have no idea how it will all work out.  Time and time again I have observed those who are too proud to ask or accept help or advice that would make things simpler for them, sending one to the burn out zone or denying a blessing to those who have time to devote to your family.  And yes, I have been turned down many times too.
So it looks like as I just randomly pull my thoughts together, the first focus is on ones attitude and drama that one will face, and the family will face it sooner or later.
When the five minute terror of that diagnosis hits you that your loved one has Alzheimer's, YOU WILL NEED SUPPORT!

The word SUPPORT denotes the idea to “bear the weight of especially below, keep from falling, sinking or slipping, give confidence and comfort”.
Putting it bluntly, the care giver can have more issues with the family than the actual loved one has in some cases.  I fortunately have had care giving positions for very loving and appreciative families in the past, for which I am grateful.

The Church Faces up to Alzheimer's and Dementia | Grace Community Church

The Church Faces up to Alzheimer's and Dementia | Grace Community Church

CARE GIVER JOURNEY: Oo-De-Lally Day

CARE GIVER JOURNEY:
Oo-De-Lally, what a day!!

As I was listening to this song from the Disney movie, Robin Hood, and watching these two “merry men” I got to contemplating as to what exactly was meant by “merry men” and found it to be a term for any follower or companion of an outlaw.
Not in the terms of outlaws, these two defy anything that smacks of normal, what ever that is.  As one perhaps ends his journey another one may be beginning.
One I have known intimately for 40 yrs. and the other for three yrs. of care giving, and about 30 yrs. of acquaintance as he guided my “merry” man in re-wiring the electrical at our house years ago.
These two “merry men” kept me moving
Care giving is a very rewarding but stressful life.

A piece of advice:  “Don’t fall into LONE-SOLDIER” mode.  Gather up your “merry men”, saddle up and call on the posse.  Accept help.

The 7 Stages of Alzheimer's Disease Through a Caregiver's Eyes

A CAREGIVERS JOURNEY and Welcomed Surprises

A CARE GIVERS JOURNEY: Welcomed Surprises?


Welcomed surprises or not?
Some welcomed surprises come when least expected and if pictures are worth a thousand words then let me explain that my co-care giver, my husband, had a knack for catching me in not so gracious and anxious moments.
He managed to capture moments of a physically tired care giver who was mentally and emotionally exhausted from managing our adventures.
I will be the first to admit to my shortcomings and to witness the predictably unpredictable in my companions of the day.
When my body was screaming sit down and rest my loved ones were rapidly forging on ahead at a pace I found difficult to keep and maintain. the pace they had set, each one of us with a goal in mind.  Be it to get on with the adventure or search for a place to rest.
 The calm, quiet, serene surroundings of Friendly Valley with a view of the golf course were a perfect back drop for this care giver.
God’s ways are perfect when the choice is his.
I have been blessed by this experience.

WALKING: In the manner WORTHY of your calling

Remember His Goodness: Why I blog

Remember His Goodness | Desiring God  (Click here)

“God knows that we are forgetful. So he gives us memorials.”

 I often review past blogs as memorials to God's goodness toward me.

I am sharing the above Blog by somebody else because I could not have worded it any better.

I have often read through out the Psalms and often wonder to the fact that I am reminded over and over again of God's goodness to the children of Israel and they still did not seem to get it.  And sometimes, I don't get it either as I go through painful reminders and begin to grumble too.
I have often had to remind myself of the following suggestions from E.B. Pusey, a 19th century church leader.  (These guide lines have been a part of my life since the 90's and keep in my study Bible as a reminder).
I say they are guidelines as I fail often and have to remind myself of them.

Steps to Contentment Allow thyself to complain of nothing, not even of the weather. Never picture thyself under any circumstances in which thou art not. Never compare thine own lot with that of another. Never allow thyself to dwell on the wish that this or that had been, or were, otherwise than it was, or is. God Almighty loves thee better and more wisely than thou dost thyself. Never dwell on the morrow. Remember that it is God's, not thine. The heaviest part of sorrow often is to look forward to it. "The Lord will provide." —Published in G. F. Maine's "A Book of Daily Readings"

MY FATHER'S FOLDER: The Work of Providence

Dad with his parents in front of house where he was born

Aaron, (Pop), did not have much to offer his bride, Helen, (Mom) in a material way, however he had a great spiritual heritage, a faith in God and a personal commitment to Christ since an early age.
Aaron’s father, Solomon, had given each of his sons (eight in all) one thousand dollars as they became adults to invest in their future.

 Aaron had used his as a down payment on  25 acres of farm land with a young prune orchard which he purchased from his older brother, Henry near Dallas Oregon.

There was no house on the property so they temporarily moved into an already furnished house that his brother owned near by.  It was this house in which Dad was born in August of 1921.

Desiring to learn more about the Bible, the Lord laid it upon Pop (my grandfather) to attend BIOLA in Los Angeles for the fall & winter sessions and to return a subsequent year.
This trip was made in one of the first Model T Fords and took a week.
The story goes (News clipping confirm) that they made this trip in the fall when dad was just an infant.  Along the way (Roseburg Ore.), another vehicle crashed into them, knocking the wheel off.  The impact sent Dad flying out the open window, across the road landing in a field.  He was picked up unharmed still wrapped in his blanket. (contrary to what the news article reported.)
The second trip down to Los Angeles was a trying one for Dad.

  His parents could not figure out why he was crying so much only to find out that his cousin Harvey, then about three had been pinching him.  (Dad recalling story from his mother and archival article for 60th Wedding Anniversary of Pop & Mom.)

The time spent at BIOLA proved to be a time of great spiritual growth which later led to  years of ministry as an elder, teacher, and Sunday School superintendant.  So truly, I have a great heritage.

MY MOTHER'S NOTE BOOK: The Sound of Angels Wings

The summer of 1976 marked the beginning of a two year extended furlough for my parents due to my dads continuing health problems.
As the two year extended furlough came to an end so did 30 years as missionaries to Mexico.
The doctor felt it not wise for them to return to the damp climate in the village and the high altitude of Mexico City.

Their ministry, however, did not end there as they continued to serve in various capacities, primarily with the influx of refugees in the early 1980’s and others attempting to learn the English  as a second language as well as Bible classes.
In 1988, life appeared to be going great in their cozy little apartment in Castaic.  Mother was a teachers aid at the local school and Dad was the apartment manager.

The Apt. In Castaic

They had just celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary with a trip down to Mexico for two and a half months which they had thoroughly enjoyed.
The local fire department, being around the corner from the apartment, one day, rushed my dad to the ER with a heart attack.  The Lord was gracious and spared his life with no lasting affects after 20 days in the hospital to resume life back to normal with new appreciation for God’s hand in his life.

The 2nd Story Apt.

I saw how my mother cared deeply for Dad during this time and I am sure she wondered if she would lose him.
I saw how this may have deeply influenced the choice of poems in her note book and the Bible.

1987, Ready To Celebrate the 40th Wedding Anniversary

I found the poem “The Sound Of Angels Wings” to be one of those poems.  The context for copying this is unknown to me, however, Dad did tell me that when Mother found something that was particularly meaningful to her, she would write or copy it somewhere.
I believe this poem sounds resonant to those who have lost a loved one although it is in the context of a spouse.

Washing Clothes By Hand In Mexico

THE SOUND OF ANGELS WINGS~Norma
                                                           Rupp
                                                           
It happened so suddenly.
Our lunch-table conversation so ordinary.
Then in an instant,
Without warning,
The face of my beloved
was drawn and pinched.
Time stood absolutely still.
(How often “tomorrow” fills
our speech but the time comes
when there are no tomorrows
at all.)
The words of the doctor,
after endless waiting;
A turn for the worse.
How can that be?
He is my life.
I am not whole without him.
Finally they let me see him,
touch him,
kiss his beautiful face.
Another room, more tubes,
more machines, more waiting;
His eyes respond to me and
tell me that his love is
deep and eternal.
His fingers grasp my hand
and squeeze as I whisper,
“I love you”.
We will fight this together,
He and I.
We will win.
Other battles in our many
years together have been fought
and now,
now they seem like nothing.
Friends came to comfort
and encourage and
I am grateful.
God is able, and I am
finding that is true.
But as I enter his room
and see his dear sweet face,
I seem to hear the gentle brush
of angels wings,
And my heart knows that
for this battle, God has
another victory in mind.
The surrender does not
come easily.
It is not easy to let go
of my beloved,
even into the loving arms of God.
I want to keep him
here with me always.
But it is not to be, and
the angels are anxious to
get on with the work
God has sent them to do:
transporting my beloved into
the presence of his saviour.

He is home now.
The angels are rejoicing.
Love ones gone on before
are rejoicing
are enjoying a great reunion,
and my husband is beginning
his new work in Heaven.
But I am finding
that surrender is a daily task,
not a once-for-always
commitment.

The pain is so incredible,
The pain of not hearing
people speak his name,
of no more “ordinary”
lunch-table conversations.
No more verbal or physical
reassurances of his love,
no more hearing his key
in the lock.
No seeing him walk
across the lot to our back door.
The pain of loneliness,
because half of me is gone.
Yes, the “better” half.

Lord help me
in this surrendering.
Your grace is sufficient,
you are truly trustworthy.
Thank you for giving him
to me for all these years.
Thank you for the
beautiful memories.
Thank you for the sound
of angels wings.
Thank you for the knowledge
that you are God,
and your way is perfect
always.

MY MOTHER'S NOTE BOOK: A Quiet Reverie

A Quiet Reverie

Seasons of life come and go.  I often find myself in a quiet reverie, reflecting on past countless blessings.
I marvel at the ways God has led me.
I find signs of godliness and commitment to God on both sides of my heritage, traced back to several generations.
Every significant life event has shaped my perspective in life.
Each season has brought about something exciting, fresh challenges.  Time has gone by so quickly.  I owe every “work of mercy” to the hands of God.
“Lord thou hast wrought all our works in, or for, us.”  Isa. 26:12
I am often drawn towards the words of the Puritans and enjoy many of their works.
Borrowing from Richard Baxter as to a good reason to recall and blog about past memories:
“If thou be a Christian indeed,I know thou hast, if not in thy book, yet certainly in thy heart, a great many precious favors upon record.  The very remembrance and rehearsal of them is sweet.  How much more sweet was the actual enjoyment.”

Struck with the prospect of growing older and retirement looming around the corner I feel an urgency to record past blessings.

Somewhere along life’s continuum, my mother was struck with the prospects of growing older too.  I gather this thought as I continue to find copious poems penned in her Bible relating to such seasons.
Upon further investigation, I found a piece of paper all rumpled up in the bottom of the front pocket of her Bible.  With these words penned by Amy Carmichael, one of my favorite poets and authors, that "Expresses The Joy Of Growing Older":

My Mother's Bible

“Gone they tell me, is youth,
 Gone is the strength of my life,
 Nothing remains but decline,
 Nothing but age and decay.

 Not so, I’m God’s little child,
 Only beginning to live,
 Coming the days of my prime,
 Coming the vision of God,
 Coming my bloom and my power.”

Seasons come and most of them go.  How are you treasuring up those memories of God’s providence in your life?

MY MOTHER'S NOTEBOOK: Coffee Break

Coffee Break With My Mother

"It is the old apple trees that are decked with the loveliest blossoms.
It is the ancient redwoods that rise to majestic heights.
It is the old violins that produce the richest tones.
It is ancient coins, stamps and furniture that people seek.
It is the old friends that are loved the best.
Thank God for the blessings of age and the wisdom,
patience and maturity that go with it."
—Sister Mary Gemma Brunke 

 Taking another tour through my mothers Bible and taking note of some of the poems that were copied onto those empty pages in the back meant for notes, I took note of the above poem.  She added at the end of that poem "Old is wonderful!"

In My Mom' Own Handwriting

On checking some dates and as to the time that this Bible became hers, it appears she was in her 60's when she copied these poems onto those pages.  I was very busy raising my family and had little interest in what was going on in her life beyond infrequent visits. Conversations very rarely if ever turned to the deep issues of life.  She had lost her own mother a few years before suddenly and her father many years before that.

However, in leafing through her Bible, I took note of the many notations left and underlined passages, leading me to believe that she loved God's Word.

It is good here to note, that I also find solace in God's Word and find comfort in that His Word  never changes.

I am inclined to think that she found solace in Gods Word as her nomadic-like lifestyle found her in many locations where she had to adapt, finding that God's Word never changes.

 

 

MY MOTHER'S NOTE BOOK: #1 GEMS FROM THE PAST

My most recent discovery, finding the Bible that my mother took over from a gift that we kids had presented to my parents as a token of their love for each other on their 25th wedding anniversary, June 1972.

This bible is worn, a little tattered, and kind of falling apart and was well marked.  The blank pages in the very back were filled with many meaningful poems and quotes, all written in my mothers handwriting.

 

Poem," I Will Go" Written In My Mother's own handwriting.

What makes this poem so special is that it was written by Doris Puckett and author of the book "IN THE HOLLOW OF HIS HAND".  The Pucketts were fellow missionaries along with my parents and Dad went on many village visits with her husband Larry.  After reading that book, I felt that we did not live as primitive as they had.  Our family is referred to in that book as part of their missionary adventures.

"Doris (Kinzie) Puckett grew up in the small coal region town of Ashland, Pennsylvania. She felt God's call upon her life at the age of 16 when she gave her heart to the Lord. After high school, she enrolled in the Philadelphia Bible Institute where she met and fell in love with Larry Puckett, a young man from Tennessee who shared her deep devotion to Christ. At the Bible Institute, both Doris and Larry felt God's call to the remote Sierra Madre mountains of Mexico to take the gospel to the Totonac Indians who had lived for centuries in superstitious fear, under the bondage of witchcraft and poverty. This is Doris' account of their amazing years in the protective hollow of God's hand. It is a remarkable story of more than forty years spent on the mission field, enduring incredible hardships, overcoming impossible obstacles, witnessing astonishing miracles and experiencing God's faithful protection and peace in the dangerous difficult place they came to love as home" 

(I believe this review was written by Rene Zapata, an evangelist we knew in Mexico.)

They lived in a very remote village that later they were encouraged to learn to fly and eventually obtained a small plane, they called "The Sparrow"

Dad on right with Uncle Larry with the Sparrow

When I was young, I thought she was one of the most awesome of women around and so beautiful.  All of us girls wanted to look and be like her.  One year the Pucketts got to be the house parents of the boarding school that we attended.

Just a little side story off of this from some of Dad's accounts, I was around five yrs old.  This missionary adventure happened before the Pucketts came to Mexico but to the village that they would be assigned to.

Several villages had carved airstrips on the side of the mountains to facilitate the transport of coffee by plane from the isolated villages.

On this visit to Mecatlan,  

Dad and Mother took us three children at the time and a months worth of supplies.  The airstrip was located in the valley and required an hours trek up the mountain to get to that village.

We stayed in a home opened up to us.  According to Dad it was only a shack of tied together board walls and dirt floor.  News papers lined the walls to cover the cracks to keep out the wind and cold.

My mother had taken her accordion and they had services at night and Bible and literacy classes.

When it was time to leave that village we trekked  one hour down that mountain to the airstrip to wait for one of the planes, however, we waited all day and no plane came.  Evidently air conditions were not favorable so no plane came.  It was decided to camp out on the airstrip till morning and build a fire to keep the mosquitos at bay.

We all survived the mosquitos except my sister who was a baby at the time.  The next morning her little face was a solid mass of bites and she got very sick.

Following is the poem I found in the back of Mother's Bible:

 I WILL GO ~ by Mrs. Doris Puckett

As I knelt in His presence and heard His call,
He summoned me to give Him my all
To the regions beyond-or wherever may be,
I knew that God had a place for me.
The promise was made many years ago,
“I’ll go, dear Lord, where you want me to go.” 

“To the land of Mexico”--the Savior replied,
“You’ll go in My stead to tell them I died.
There are souls that perish who have never heard.
So you take to them My precious Word.
I heard Him call to the Indians--strong and clear
And I answered, “Oh,yes, I’ll go, my Savior dear.

Easy to say “yes”, but the test was to follow.
The cost is great!  Pride I must swallow.
The mountains!  They’re rugged and oh, so steep!
Live there among sickness and filth so deep?
To raise my children in a heathen place???
Should I really go to a people so base???

With eyes off the Lord and in temporal things,
I felt Satan’s darts with burning stings,
Endure such hardships and suffer cruel pain.
While wicked men will only scoff at His Name???
Too dangerous!!  Out there I am told that murders abound.
“I can’t go.”, my heart cried as fears did surround.

Then softly, He spoke as I knelt in prayer,
“My child, these are souls I love out there,
Their hearts are empty for want of My love.
In distress they cry out for help from Above.
Who’ll take to them the story of grace.
That one day “redeemed” they may look in My face?”

He spoke and assured me of His strength divine.
He spoke and in weakness, His strength was mine.
Firmly and sweetly I felt upon my life, His touch!
Oh, compassionate Savior, you have taught me so much.
Those Indians, waiting~the peace of Jesus to know.
“Dear Lord, in me fulfill this burning desire to GO!”

I went, yes, I went to that forsaken land,
Not once did my Savior withdraw His hand.
Oh, what glory and joy did His blessing unfold!
The half of His goodness could never be told.
What treasures, what triumphs could have been lost,
Had I said to the Master, “Too great the cost!”

I am inclined to think that my mother may have felt the same way and was witness to many of the treasures and triumphs that would have been lost had she and dad not followed the call.  Because of them many Indians and their families were won. 

 

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES: DOLLS

My memories of first grade and early childhood have been reduced to isolated, random moments.
This post is dedicated to my precious three so far grand daughters.  

First Grade, age 6

I loved dolls, and I loved to provide them with clothes.  Although by State side standards, I did not have very many and only once had two at once.
Mother once told me that when I was a toddler, my doll was left on a bus we had been traveling on and had just disembarked.  I often wondered what kind of home that doll found.
I do not recall receiving the two dolls shown in the pictures when I was six.  I was boarding with a family that had three boys at the time but spent much time playing with my three school mates that were sisters.

She Looked Like This

When I was around eight or nine, I was given a 36" doll.   We all thought she was awesome!  I could put my hands on her shoulders and make her walk.  She had long hair that I enjoyed combing.  But the best thing about her was her blue eyes with lush eyelashes that opened and closed when you tipped her and her dress was absolutely gorgeous!  All of us girls were enamored by her including all the little Mexican children around.
Her awesomeness was short lived.

1959, We may have gotten these dolls from Grandma Wedgwood

To my horror one day when we got out of classes, I found her with her eyes poked in and turned around and she stayed that way forever.  I do not recall what ever became of her and I do not recall giving her a name.  Someone had gotten into the girls dormitory room while we were in school.
 I fondly remember my doll "Judy".  My sister had one similar to her.  She had a plastic molded head/hair in a pony tail with a hole in it so I could pull a ribbon through it to dress her up.
I had Judy for a long time as she traveled with me to the States, mold and all because the weather was so humid.  Mold prevailed if things were not properly stored, alas Judy had a bad case of mold that we could not clean off, however,
Judy was the most well dressed because it was about this time that I got interested in sewing.  I made Judy many clothes.
When my mother saw how much time I spent making those outfits for Judy she said it was a waste of time and that I should be sewing clothes for myself.
She sent me up the hill to a lady who was a seamstress.  I had to walk through a cornfield just to get there.  There in her cottage-like house with a dirt floor sat an old treadle sewing machine on which I learned to sew.
This seamstress was so talented, you could just show her a picture of a clothing item from the Sears or J C Penney catalog
and she could make it.  I believe I was around 10 or 11 when these lessons occurred.
I still continued to sew clothes for the dolls out of the scraps from the sewing lessons.
 When I was introduced to Barbie and Ken, I was in clothes making heaven and let my imagination go wild.

My First Barbie looked 

just like this

Fast forward in time, my first daughter was doing the same thing with the myriad of dolls in the girls collection.  I am smiling at recalling this.  
You just gotta love girls.

MY MOTHER'S NOTE BOOK: What Were We Thinking?

MY MOTHER’S NOTE BOOK: What Were We Thinking?

MY MOTHER'S NOTE BOOK

With Mother’s day just around the corner, I am reminded of a mother I really did not know very well.
As I sort through old photos, read parts of journals, and recall past events I have come to realize what an amazing mother I really had.  She was truly a “Laborers Together” along side of my father.  (A theme from their wedding day.)
I have often wondered what was going on in her mind when they boarded that train from Oregon to Texas with three steamer trunks, all their worldly possessions, on their missionary journey that summer of 1948.  What was she thinking?  I am sure had she known what she was getting into she may have voiced second thoughts.
She not only sacrificed ease of living but often found that living by faith was foreign to her.   She was a CITY GIRL, and dad was a country boy.

She went to Simpson Bible College against her parents wishes and they refused to help her financially where seeds of living by faith for ones needs began.  She quoted in her journal “Sometimes I could not even write Loren as I did not have the 3 cents for a stamp.”
Correspondence from the mission was, “Come to Mexico as soon as possible.  We will trust with you for your support.”
What she did not know was what it would be like to serve in one of the most primitive and dangerous areas of the State of Puebla and Veracruz.
Upon there arrival at the mission headquarters in Tamazunchale, it was hot and rainy.  There was very little electricity at  night.
She cooked on a two-burner kerosene stove.

Cooking

She washed the clothes by hand in cold water and sat under the lines while they dried, otherwise the clothes would be stolen right outside the door. (especially the underwear)
She used the pressure cooker every day.  In her journal, she recounts eating lots of bread, eggs, beans and bananas as they gradually learned to eat tortillas and chile in moderation.
She and Dad spent concentrated time learning the Spanish language.  They worked together as a team.  Dad’s strong points were speaking and hers was hearing and understanding.  They learned very quickly.  Eventually they even adopted the accent.
Well, my eventual expected arrival disrupted their language studies, however, they had a good grasp on the language and proceeded to Puebla City to await my arrival.

So I was the first one in our family to make my mother a mother.

Motherhood

My mother was also a gifted musician and could play various instruments.  She taught organ lessons on a squeaky pump organ and the accordion.  Something that I found very difficult and quickly abandoned the lessons.
A quote from a letter she wrote to my grandparents, August 1,1948:
     “We had rather an interesting experience last night.  I got out my accordion to play a few songs to Loren.  Immediately there appeared at our window many of the people who live in the six other apartments.  One married lady and a young girl came in…they knew many of the hymns…My accordion was only the second that had been in this town of 2,000 people.  The people are very fond of music but hardly any of them play instruments.”

Organ and Accordion Lessons

Another quote from the same letter stated, “I surely enjoy my pressure cooker down here.  I honestly don’t know what I’d do without it…I have a concrete sink and drainboard…”
The whole time I lived in Mexico, we did not own a refrigerator.
I later heard after I left that my mother finally got a refrigerator in her kitchen after living in Mexico about 15 yrs.  No one in the village had ever seen a refrigerator and asked it it was a coffin when they saw it laying on its back in the Land Rover.
This blog is getting to be to long and so many memories but I will end with this as it has come to my mind.
My mother was quite a disciplinarian while my father on the lenient side.  She would require me to go out to find a stick from the wood pile for  a thrashing.  I soon learned that the switches or thin ones gave the most pain.
On one occasion, no stick was at hand and she used her hand and broke many blood vessels on her hand.

She also was a “no nonsense” kind of mother and would rather we direct our energies to more useful pursuits.  When I was putting my energies into making doll clothes, she would have none of that and sent me to the seamstress up the hill for sewing lesson for me clothes.  I then made myself aprons, skirts, dresses, pajamas and dreamed of hitting the jackpot in winning bolts of cloth, while sewing with the cast offs of those chicken feed sacks sent from the States from my great grandmothers chicken farm.
Mother’s day is to remind us how much our mothers have sacrificed for us at any given moment.

Saturday Night Bible Class With both Casas Hogar in The Ediger Living Room, Dad and Mother in the doorway and Tommy in foreground front

Mother top far right, Tommy up front

Above was an article that my mother wrote for the Mexican Indian Mission newsletter.