*Thanks go out to my daughter Shelley for this post. Thank you, Shelley, for the story AND thank you for making your mother smile because when this happened, you thought to yourself, "There's a spiritual lesson in this!"
Last Saturday was a beautiful day in Apex, North Carolina, so Shelley and my three-year-old grandson Tyler visited two of their city's lovely public parks. Tyler is getting better and better at riding his bicycle, and so they took it with them and he rode along several paths. At one point, when the ground was a little more rough, he wanted to give up, but Shelley encouraged him to keep trying while she pushed with one hand. Tyler started going faster, and a smile came to his face. Completely unaware that Shelley's hand was still on the back of the bike, he whooped, "Look at me, Mommy. I'm doing it all by myself!"
That's us, isn't it? We get discouraged and want to quit. God reassures us of His presence and help. Then, when we begin to experience some success, we yell, "Look at what I'm doing!", forgetting that God's hand is behind us, pushing or lifting or steadying our way.
I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart;
I will tell of all your wonders.
I will be glad and rejoice in you;
I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.
- Psalm 9:1-2
I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
for he has been good to me.
- Psalm 13:5-6
It was not by their sword that they won the land,
nor did their arm bring them victory;
It was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face,
for you loved them.
- Psalm 44:3
As for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more.
My mouth will tell of your righteousness,
of your salvation all day long,
though I know not its measure.
I will come and proclaim your mighty acts,
O Sovereign Lord;
I will proclaim your righteousness, yours alone.
Since my youth, O God, you have taught me,
and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.
Even when I am old and gray,
do not forsake me, O God,
till I declare your power to the next generation,
your might to all who are to come.
- Psalm 71:14-18
Monday, March 14, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Mmm, good!
"Getchye a sody from the cooler up front," Granddaddy said. We had just stepped into his little, corner grocery store from the humid Texas afternoon. I crossed the creaky wooden floor to the large Coca-Cola cooler and slide the heavy top to one side. Peering down into the
dark depths, I let the ice cold air fan my face before I tilted several bottles and finally found what I was looking for. Ah, strawberry Nehi. I put the drink down onthe floor while I tugged the lid back in place. Then, grabbing the bottle with both hands, I worked the cap under the metal opener and carefully pressed down. My thirsty throat could hardly wait for that first, sweet, cold, fizzy swallow to arrive. When it did, a smile of pure satisfaction graced my face.
dark depths, I let the ice cold air fan my face before I tilted several bottles and finally found what I was looking for. Ah, strawberry Nehi. I put the drink down onthe floor while I tugged the lid back in place. Then, grabbing the bottle with both hands, I worked the cap under the metal opener and carefully pressed down. My thirsty throat could hardly wait for that first, sweet, cold, fizzy swallow to arrive. When it did, a smile of pure satisfaction graced my face.I wonder how many splendid moments like that my mama experienced in her young life. Though she was seven when the Great Depression came slamming through the nation, her family always had enough food because her daddy owned the grocery store. Willie and "Nanny," his wife, were kind to those who struggled to make ends meet, and God blessed them for it. Not only did their family not go hungry; one could say that my mama and her brother grew up "well-fed."
By the time I was born, Mama was only slightly plump, but I remember her saying often, "Everything's better with butter or cream." Mama was a smart lady, and I wholeheartedly agree with her, though I would probably add, "or cheese, or sour cream, or cream cheese." She and I certainly would have seen eye to eye with James Beard, a well-known twentieth century chef who declared, "Good bread is the most fundamentally satisfying of all foods; and good bread with fresh butter, the greatest of feasts." And of course, butter comes from cream. I know this first hand because once, when I was a newlywed, I was whipping cream for strawberry shortcake, whipped it a little too long, and oops - butter.
Before the cooking light craze of recent years, people considered any recipe made with cream top notch, often saving it for special occasions. In fact, through the years, cream has symbolized the best, the richest. An old song proclaimed, "You're the cream in my coffee, ...I'd be lost without you." And we've all heard, "He's the cream of the crop." Then there's the one that even children know: "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream."
Here's some joyful news, friends. We Christians are cream. God gave His only Son to die for us. He says that because of Jesus' sacrifice, "if we confess our sin, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9). Ephesians 2:4-6 tells us, "because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive in Christ even when we were dead in transgressions - it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus." Through the death and resurrection of Jesus, God has transferred His own heart into our lives. We are reborn. It is sometimes very hard to believe, but nevertheless, it is true and as we accept His sacrifice and turn from our sin, He allows us to rise to the top as cream does on milk. Then He scoops us off and sets us apart for good works. Just as cream may be poured into hot coffee to make it delicious,
we may be poured into a difficult situation to be a blessing. Furthermore, sometimes cream must be whipped in order to serve its purpose as the beautiful, tasty, finishing touch on a dessert. Similarly, we may have to undergo trials before we can attain the triumph of glorifying God with our lives.Yes, dear Christian friends, we are cream, saved to glorify Him.
Hallelujah!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Bilirubin
Wow, I just noticed I haven't blogged in two months. Well, my life has been pretty busy since Christmas. I made an eight-day trip to California to see my sister and brother-in-law (and nephew and niece-in-law and great niece). My friend Sherrie started her chemotherapy, and I've been praying for her and thinking about her and talking to her a good bit. I spoke at a state conference for women, so I had to spend extended periods of time preparing for that. And, oh yeah, I had a new grandson! (Well, I didn't have him, Heather did, but I was there!)
Joshua Bryant Lee, Jr. was born on February 6. David and I arrived in Birmingham ten hours before he was born, and I stayed 12 days after to help Heather and Josh with the adjustment to a newborn. Bryant and I spent some special hours together, mainly in the middle of the night.
The hardest part of those first days was that Bryant's bilirubin was too high. Elevated bilirubin causes jaundice and jaundice causes some other unwanted things, so we had to do everything the doctor advised to get Bryant's bilirubin down. The pediatrician prescribed a "tanning bed" sort of contraption for Bryant to lie on every minute he wasn't eating or being changed. Here's a picture of him in the tanning bed. The turquise "blanket" and arms were sort of like a snuggie you put on him. The back of it was open, and it velcroed to the base, which was a light. So while he lay there in a sort of straight jacket, he was getting light from behind. The light supposedly drew out the bilirubin into his pee and poop so he could get rid of it. (Of course, that's the scientific explanation!)
After two days on the light, his bilirubin was down enough for us to quit. Praise the Lord!! The doctor advised us to still set him in direct sunlight for 20 minutes three times a day. We did that for a few days more, and he was as good as new, precious and whole.
I don't think there's a spiritual lesson in this, but there is a good analogy. Exposure to the Light helps pull out the wicked ways in us and dispose of them. I love these verses about light:
"For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ" (2 Cor. 4:6).
"But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light" (1 Peter 2:9).
Joshua Bryant Lee, Jr. was born on February 6. David and I arrived in Birmingham ten hours before he was born, and I stayed 12 days after to help Heather and Josh with the adjustment to a newborn. Bryant and I spent some special hours together, mainly in the middle of the night.
The hardest part of those first days was that Bryant's bilirubin was too high. Elevated bilirubin causes jaundice and jaundice causes some other unwanted things, so we had to do everything the doctor advised to get Bryant's bilirubin down. The pediatrician prescribed a "tanning bed" sort of contraption for Bryant to lie on every minute he wasn't eating or being changed. Here's a picture of him in the tanning bed. The turquise "blanket" and arms were sort of like a snuggie you put on him. The back of it was open, and it velcroed to the base, which was a light. So while he lay there in a sort of straight jacket, he was getting light from behind. The light supposedly drew out the bilirubin into his pee and poop so he could get rid of it. (Of course, that's the scientific explanation!)
After two days on the light, his bilirubin was down enough for us to quit. Praise the Lord!! The doctor advised us to still set him in direct sunlight for 20 minutes three times a day. We did that for a few days more, and he was as good as new, precious and whole.
I don't think there's a spiritual lesson in this, but there is a good analogy. Exposure to the Light helps pull out the wicked ways in us and dispose of them. I love these verses about light:
"For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ" (2 Cor. 4:6).
"But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light" (1 Peter 2:9).
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
December 28
What a difference a year makes. Last December 28 Daddy left our house to fly back home. I didn't know it then, but he had visited us for the last time. Though hospitalized until December 22, he had roused his aging body and made the flight to Atlanta. I had picked him up, rented walker in hand, and he had come into our house to grace us with his peaceful presence.
He mainly sat in the recliner, napping when there was a lull in the festivities, but his rheumy eyes twinkled and his smile took part when his two-year-old greatgrandson Tyler held court in the den. Daddy later commented to my brother that one of the delights of Christmas had been Tyler because he was "so engaging."
Today, December 28 a year later, Daddy is gone. Right after he got home last December, he went back to the hospital for 5 weeks. His body began shutting down, and by the first of April I wondered if he'd make his ninetieth birthday May 2. But he rallied once more, and as all the family and many friends gathered on May 1, he laughed and enjoyed the accolades and anecdotes of his long, well-lived tenure on earth.
Just six weeks later, on June 14, Daddy flew home to his eternal home - the place of no sickness, no aging, no leaving, no sorrow. The place where he can fully enjoy the Christ of Christmas.
We missed Daddy this year, but life goes on. We started a new tradition of playing family jeopardy (Who knew David's favorite Christmas present as a child was roller skates?). We watched three-year-old Tyler's delighted expression as he tore open one of Santa's gifts and found inside, yes, roller skates. We laughed when he stared down at the four pads and said, "I didn't know I had so many elbows!" His candidness was totally engaging, and I smiled, remembering Daddy. He would have loved every moment.
He mainly sat in the recliner, napping when there was a lull in the festivities, but his rheumy eyes twinkled and his smile took part when his two-year-old greatgrandson Tyler held court in the den. Daddy later commented to my brother that one of the delights of Christmas had been Tyler because he was "so engaging."
Today, December 28 a year later, Daddy is gone. Right after he got home last December, he went back to the hospital for 5 weeks. His body began shutting down, and by the first of April I wondered if he'd make his ninetieth birthday May 2. But he rallied once more, and as all the family and many friends gathered on May 1, he laughed and enjoyed the accolades and anecdotes of his long, well-lived tenure on earth.
Just six weeks later, on June 14, Daddy flew home to his eternal home - the place of no sickness, no aging, no leaving, no sorrow. The place where he can fully enjoy the Christ of Christmas.
We missed Daddy this year, but life goes on. We started a new tradition of playing family jeopardy (Who knew David's favorite Christmas present as a child was roller skates?). We watched three-year-old Tyler's delighted expression as he tore open one of Santa's gifts and found inside, yes, roller skates. We laughed when he stared down at the four pads and said, "I didn't know I had so many elbows!" His candidness was totally engaging, and I smiled, remembering Daddy. He would have loved every moment.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Tail Lights and Blue Lights
David and I just experienced a typical Bazemore trip. That is, it was fraught with "Oh, brother" moments. (If you don't know what 'fraught' means or have never heard the word before, then maybe you're not old as dirt like I am.)
Back to the trek fraught with troubles. First of all, let it be said that if David had agreed to take Friday afternoon off so we could fly to Shelley's, then these things wouldn't have happened. That said, please understand that there is no root of bitterness in me about it. After all, if it were not for road trips, I'd have hardly anything to blog about.
So did you notice that I said it was a 'typical' Bazemore trip? Back in the day, we were famous for our mishap-laden family vacations. Like the one when Hillary came down with a 105-degree fever the day we got to Disney World, and then after a trip to the emergency room for a strep test and 24 hours of antibiotics, when she and I could join the family fun once more, it rained every day we were there until the day we were leaving when it was gorgeous weather and our van broke down and we had to spend several hours at a repair shop where they didn't really repair it so we had to stop and add water to the radiator every hour on the way home. Fun times!
Or the trip to Gatlinburg where I made reservations online and the place was a dump so we had to find another place but practically everything was full and it had snowed after we'd had three weeks of 75-degree weather at home so I didn't think about taking coats and we had to go to the outlet mall and buy everyone a coat and the van broke down (again) and David and I had a big fight.
Or the outing to Atlanta when Shelley had strep and we had to push her around in a wheelchair at Six Flags. Or the time Hillary got lost twice at Opryland (when it was an amusement park). Or the year we got to Panama City only to find our hotel had just had all the rooms' carpets cleaned and I was allergic to the smell so David went out to find an antihistamine for me but was rear-ended at a stoplight, causing the van to break down and David to have to go to the emergency room.
You know, after recalling those moments, last weekend doesn't seem so bad. No one got sick or hurt. Nobody got lost. The weather was beautiful, albeit COLD. David and I didn't fight. We don't have a van anymore. Ah, but the car...
We left right after David got off work on Friday evening. Since David was going to fly home early Monday morning, we took two cars as far as the Atlanta airport. He told me to go first and he'd follow. He noticed right away that my right tail light was out but wasn't too worried because the brake light and turn signal were working fine.
Well, no sooner had we crossed the Georgia state line than I saw flashing blue lights move around David and pull in behind me. I knew I wasn't speeding, but my heart picked up its pace anyway.I slowed my car and stopped on the shoulder, then watched in my rearview mirror as the police car came to a stop with David close behind him. I waited while cars flew by and wondered why the police weren't chasing them instead of bothering me. Finally, the officer stepped up to my passenger window. "Ma'am," he said, "Can you tell me who this gentleman is who's following you?" Ha! I felt relief. The police were doing their job, protecting innocent citizens, noticing the smallest of details - like a mysterious man pursuing a lone woman.
"Yes, he's my husband." I chuckled and explained.
"Well, he tells me he noticed your tail light was out. We usually just give warnings for this, but I'll have to see your license and go put the warning into the computer."
So much for chivalry, I thought. There must have been ten cars who had passed me going 85 or 90 since we'd left Opelika 25 miles back, but the police were going after the real menaces like me. Oh well, warning duly recorded, we were soon on our way. Only 7.5 more hours to go!
Traffic through Atlanta was crowded, of course, but moved amazingly quickly for a Bazemore trip. Soon the highway became smooth and dark, and I was lulled into catnaps and finally, sleep. Suddenly, a loud thump-bump-bump and serious jostle awoke me. "What happened?" I blurted, sitting upright.
"We hit a deer. I saw him way up on the right, but then my attention was drawn to the person coming up on our left, and the next thing I knew, we had hit the deer." I was amazed and relieved that the car was still trucking along and our headlights seemed to be working, but there was no more sleeping for me.
About an hour and a half later, at 3 Am Eastern Standard Time, we were almost there. Almost. In fact, we were right behind Shelley and Shawn's townhouse. With go-go-Gadget arms I could have touched their back door. Then the unbelievable happened. Though David had not gone a mile over the speed limit the whole way, we got stopped by the police, again!! My first thought was, "Oh, brother" and my second thought was "They've already got the warning on the computer, so this shouldn't take long." Our goal was in view. Bed and just a few hours sleep were tauntingly close.
"Sir, may I see your license and registration?" the nice officer asked. I searched frantically in the glove compartment while David pulled out his license. As the GPS, phone charger, Zaxby napkins, Wendy's napkins, Chick-Fil-A napkins, proof of insurance papers, etc. started falling into my hands, the policeman continued, "What brings you folks to North Carolina?"
I quit my searching and chimed in, pointing to the townhouse, "We're visiting our grandson for his birthday. They actually live right there."
Though I would have welcomed chit-chat about our wonderful grandson, the officer changed the subject abruptly. "What happened to the front of your car?"
A short conversation about the deer incident ensued, with the policeman checking out the damage to the car and seeming satisfied. "Well," he said, "We were looking for someone with front end damage who fled the scene of an accident, but it looks like you two just had some bad luck. Enjoy your stay in North Carolina!" And so we turned the corner, pulled into the parking spot, went in and went to bed. Oh, and enjoyed our stay in North Carolina - especially me, who got to stay until Wednesday.
Now, there's always a spiritual lesson, and I was pretty sure what the one in this event was, but I didn't like it, so I was hoping another would come to mind. Then, in my quiet time this morning, the same lesson emerged and I felt like God was saying, "Admit it, Joy," or, as I used to say to Hillary when she wanted to argue with me, "Give it up, honey. Just give it up."
So here. I'm giving it. The spiritual lesson:
I want to believe I'm following all the Christian rules and that it's really all those people doing the bad sins that God should stop, question and warn. So what if my tail light isn't working? My brake light and turn signal are working. What's more important than my car's rear lights is that all those people are speeding, for heaven's sakes!
- So what if I was unkind in the way I spoke to that store clerk? At least I didn't yell or talk about her behind her back. And besides, I was right.
- So what if I'm spending tons of money on gifts and the poor don't have enough to eat. It's Christmas. I have to buy gifts for my family, and friends, and coworkers. It's how I show I love them.
- So what if I don't call the people who weren't at Sunday School today. I'll think about calling them. I'll even pray for them.
Hey, God, what about the murderers? the adulterers? the thieves?
Back to the trek fraught with troubles. First of all, let it be said that if David had agreed to take Friday afternoon off so we could fly to Shelley's, then these things wouldn't have happened. That said, please understand that there is no root of bitterness in me about it. After all, if it were not for road trips, I'd have hardly anything to blog about.
So did you notice that I said it was a 'typical' Bazemore trip? Back in the day, we were famous for our mishap-laden family vacations. Like the one when Hillary came down with a 105-degree fever the day we got to Disney World, and then after a trip to the emergency room for a strep test and 24 hours of antibiotics, when she and I could join the family fun once more, it rained every day we were there until the day we were leaving when it was gorgeous weather and our van broke down and we had to spend several hours at a repair shop where they didn't really repair it so we had to stop and add water to the radiator every hour on the way home. Fun times!
Or the trip to Gatlinburg where I made reservations online and the place was a dump so we had to find another place but practically everything was full and it had snowed after we'd had three weeks of 75-degree weather at home so I didn't think about taking coats and we had to go to the outlet mall and buy everyone a coat and the van broke down (again) and David and I had a big fight.
Or the outing to Atlanta when Shelley had strep and we had to push her around in a wheelchair at Six Flags. Or the time Hillary got lost twice at Opryland (when it was an amusement park). Or the year we got to Panama City only to find our hotel had just had all the rooms' carpets cleaned and I was allergic to the smell so David went out to find an antihistamine for me but was rear-ended at a stoplight, causing the van to break down and David to have to go to the emergency room.
You know, after recalling those moments, last weekend doesn't seem so bad. No one got sick or hurt. Nobody got lost. The weather was beautiful, albeit COLD. David and I didn't fight. We don't have a van anymore. Ah, but the car...
We left right after David got off work on Friday evening. Since David was going to fly home early Monday morning, we took two cars as far as the Atlanta airport. He told me to go first and he'd follow. He noticed right away that my right tail light was out but wasn't too worried because the brake light and turn signal were working fine.
Well, no sooner had we crossed the Georgia state line than I saw flashing blue lights move around David and pull in behind me. I knew I wasn't speeding, but my heart picked up its pace anyway.I slowed my car and stopped on the shoulder, then watched in my rearview mirror as the police car came to a stop with David close behind him. I waited while cars flew by and wondered why the police weren't chasing them instead of bothering me. Finally, the officer stepped up to my passenger window. "Ma'am," he said, "Can you tell me who this gentleman is who's following you?" Ha! I felt relief. The police were doing their job, protecting innocent citizens, noticing the smallest of details - like a mysterious man pursuing a lone woman.
"Yes, he's my husband." I chuckled and explained.
"Well, he tells me he noticed your tail light was out. We usually just give warnings for this, but I'll have to see your license and go put the warning into the computer."
So much for chivalry, I thought. There must have been ten cars who had passed me going 85 or 90 since we'd left Opelika 25 miles back, but the police were going after the real menaces like me. Oh well, warning duly recorded, we were soon on our way. Only 7.5 more hours to go!
Traffic through Atlanta was crowded, of course, but moved amazingly quickly for a Bazemore trip. Soon the highway became smooth and dark, and I was lulled into catnaps and finally, sleep. Suddenly, a loud thump-bump-bump and serious jostle awoke me. "What happened?" I blurted, sitting upright.
"We hit a deer. I saw him way up on the right, but then my attention was drawn to the person coming up on our left, and the next thing I knew, we had hit the deer." I was amazed and relieved that the car was still trucking along and our headlights seemed to be working, but there was no more sleeping for me.
About an hour and a half later, at 3 Am Eastern Standard Time, we were almost there. Almost. In fact, we were right behind Shelley and Shawn's townhouse. With go-go-Gadget arms I could have touched their back door. Then the unbelievable happened. Though David had not gone a mile over the speed limit the whole way, we got stopped by the police, again!! My first thought was, "Oh, brother" and my second thought was "They've already got the warning on the computer, so this shouldn't take long." Our goal was in view. Bed and just a few hours sleep were tauntingly close.
"Sir, may I see your license and registration?" the nice officer asked. I searched frantically in the glove compartment while David pulled out his license. As the GPS, phone charger, Zaxby napkins, Wendy's napkins, Chick-Fil-A napkins, proof of insurance papers, etc. started falling into my hands, the policeman continued, "What brings you folks to North Carolina?"
I quit my searching and chimed in, pointing to the townhouse, "We're visiting our grandson for his birthday. They actually live right there."
Though I would have welcomed chit-chat about our wonderful grandson, the officer changed the subject abruptly. "What happened to the front of your car?"
A short conversation about the deer incident ensued, with the policeman checking out the damage to the car and seeming satisfied. "Well," he said, "We were looking for someone with front end damage who fled the scene of an accident, but it looks like you two just had some bad luck. Enjoy your stay in North Carolina!" And so we turned the corner, pulled into the parking spot, went in and went to bed. Oh, and enjoyed our stay in North Carolina - especially me, who got to stay until Wednesday.
Now, there's always a spiritual lesson, and I was pretty sure what the one in this event was, but I didn't like it, so I was hoping another would come to mind. Then, in my quiet time this morning, the same lesson emerged and I felt like God was saying, "Admit it, Joy," or, as I used to say to Hillary when she wanted to argue with me, "Give it up, honey. Just give it up."
So here. I'm giving it. The spiritual lesson:
I want to believe I'm following all the Christian rules and that it's really all those people doing the bad sins that God should stop, question and warn. So what if my tail light isn't working? My brake light and turn signal are working. What's more important than my car's rear lights is that all those people are speeding, for heaven's sakes!
- So what if I was unkind in the way I spoke to that store clerk? At least I didn't yell or talk about her behind her back. And besides, I was right.
- So what if I'm spending tons of money on gifts and the poor don't have enough to eat. It's Christmas. I have to buy gifts for my family, and friends, and coworkers. It's how I show I love them.
- So what if I don't call the people who weren't at Sunday School today. I'll think about calling them. I'll even pray for them.
Hey, God, what about the murderers? the adulterers? the thieves?
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Reunion
I recently attended my 40th high school reunion. Now, before you start saying, "Wow, she's old!", let me explain that I'm not that old. I didn't graduate in 1970 - I graduated in 1971. But, I should have graduated in 1972. I was a year ahead in school because we lived overseas when I was a child (that's a whole 'nother story). Anyway, our class held a combined reunion with the class of 1970, and I'd estimate there were 250 people there.
I hate those kind of things, but my life-long friend Joyce, class of '70, suggested we attend together, so I went. Here's the thing. I wasn't in the 'in' group in high school. In fact, I always sort of felt like I was in the 'out' group, if you know what I mean. Once, at the end of the tenth grade, I decided to try to catapult myself into the 'in' group by trying out for cheerleader. I made it through two days of excruciating tryout practices only to end up so sore that I couldn't climb the stairs at school or sit down on the potty without fainting. That very summer my mother beat me at tennis, and when I was upset about it, said, "Oh, don't worry. You're just not coordinated." If I'd only had that bit of blessed information a couple of months earlier, I'd have saved myself the humiliation of cheerleader tryout practices.
But I digress. Since the cheerleading idea bombed, I decided to try out for something a little less strenuous but not quite as 'in'. The Downbeats was a nine-girl a capella group that could just as easily have been called the Singing Geeks. I made it! So during my junior and senior years I enjoyed the musical challenge and 'fifteen minutes of fame' we got from singing at civic clubs and at school and church functions. I gained some valuable musical experience and confidence through being a part of Downbeats, but the close comraderie with the other girls was the real blessing. So when I decided to go to my reunion, I hoped I'd see some of them there.
Nope. I saw some familiar faces and even sneaked peeks at nametags to see if I'd have any 'Aha' moments, but it didn't happen. I ended up talking to five people:
1. David Lingerfelt, class of '70 -brother of Alan, a good guy friend of mine (class of '72). David never knew me in high school and didn't know I'd been friends with Alan. End of conversation.
2. Scott Eden - a supernice guy who sat behind me in senior English and, though he was in the 'in' group, always had a smile for me. BTW, he is just as nice and still as cute as he was in high school.
3. Gail Copeland, class of '72 - Her husband, Jimmy, was in my class. He was busy preparing with one of the bands that played later. Jimmy and Gail were good, close friends from my youth group at church.
4. Harriet Moncure - She tripped over the base of a column I was standing near, and when she caught herself and stood up, she was right in front of my face and blurted, "Joy Crawley!" (my maiden name). If she hadn't tripped, we might not have seen each other. She was not a close friend in high school, but it was still fun to talk to her.
5. Kathy Jordan - Kathy was another person in the 'in' group, but I approached her because we went to church together way back when and because her mother and mine were the best of friends. We had a short talk, mostly about deceased family.
Except for these five life-altering conversations, I tagged along with Joyce and spoke to the people she knew. At least we tried to speak. I don't think I've mentioned that the music was way too loud. The longer the evening went on, the more I wished I was back at the hotel with my sister and brother (The three of us had met in Richmond for a family reunion of sorts). As songs of the sixties and seventies blared in my ears, I longed for the quiet and comfort of sharing real, present-day life with those I love. So at ten-thirty I said my goodbyes to Joyce and her friends and to high school for the last time.
Some days I long for the reunion that will take place when I walk through heaven's gates, and these are the people I want to talk to first:
1. Jesus - a very dear friend. He once laid down His life for me. He knew my name before I was born, my maiden and married names. He pursued my heart and became the lover of my soul when I shyly let Him in at seven years of age. Not only has He been by my side all these years, but He has lived within me to guide, comfort, rebuke and cherish me. He is a very dear friend, and when I reach glory, I want to see Him first. I want to bow at His feet and hug His neck and feel His arms pulling me into the 'in' group.
2. Mama - my earliest friend. I want to tell her that I never appreciated her enough and I'm sorry for that. I also want to tell her how much her devoted life influenced mine. And I want to hug her and laugh with her and tell her about my grandchildren who she never got to meet.
3. Daddy - my other earliest friend. I want to hear his laughter and just sit with him for awhile.
4. Daddy's daddy - He died when my daddy was 11 years old, so I never got to meet him. But I've read things he wrote and things people wrote about him, and I know I'm going to love him.
5. My other grandparents and Aunt Pony and Aunt Tamar (two old-maid great aunts who were like extra grandmothers to me).
Of course, there are others I'm going to want to see and talk to, but these will be first. And I think we'll be able to hear each other because I hear the music there is beautiful.
I hate those kind of things, but my life-long friend Joyce, class of '70, suggested we attend together, so I went. Here's the thing. I wasn't in the 'in' group in high school. In fact, I always sort of felt like I was in the 'out' group, if you know what I mean. Once, at the end of the tenth grade, I decided to try to catapult myself into the 'in' group by trying out for cheerleader. I made it through two days of excruciating tryout practices only to end up so sore that I couldn't climb the stairs at school or sit down on the potty without fainting. That very summer my mother beat me at tennis, and when I was upset about it, said, "Oh, don't worry. You're just not coordinated." If I'd only had that bit of blessed information a couple of months earlier, I'd have saved myself the humiliation of cheerleader tryout practices.
But I digress. Since the cheerleading idea bombed, I decided to try out for something a little less strenuous but not quite as 'in'. The Downbeats was a nine-girl a capella group that could just as easily have been called the Singing Geeks. I made it! So during my junior and senior years I enjoyed the musical challenge and 'fifteen minutes of fame' we got from singing at civic clubs and at school and church functions. I gained some valuable musical experience and confidence through being a part of Downbeats, but the close comraderie with the other girls was the real blessing. So when I decided to go to my reunion, I hoped I'd see some of them there.
Nope. I saw some familiar faces and even sneaked peeks at nametags to see if I'd have any 'Aha' moments, but it didn't happen. I ended up talking to five people:
1. David Lingerfelt, class of '70 -brother of Alan, a good guy friend of mine (class of '72). David never knew me in high school and didn't know I'd been friends with Alan. End of conversation.
2. Scott Eden - a supernice guy who sat behind me in senior English and, though he was in the 'in' group, always had a smile for me. BTW, he is just as nice and still as cute as he was in high school.
3. Gail Copeland, class of '72 - Her husband, Jimmy, was in my class. He was busy preparing with one of the bands that played later. Jimmy and Gail were good, close friends from my youth group at church.
4. Harriet Moncure - She tripped over the base of a column I was standing near, and when she caught herself and stood up, she was right in front of my face and blurted, "Joy Crawley!" (my maiden name). If she hadn't tripped, we might not have seen each other. She was not a close friend in high school, but it was still fun to talk to her.
5. Kathy Jordan - Kathy was another person in the 'in' group, but I approached her because we went to church together way back when and because her mother and mine were the best of friends. We had a short talk, mostly about deceased family.
Except for these five life-altering conversations, I tagged along with Joyce and spoke to the people she knew. At least we tried to speak. I don't think I've mentioned that the music was way too loud. The longer the evening went on, the more I wished I was back at the hotel with my sister and brother (The three of us had met in Richmond for a family reunion of sorts). As songs of the sixties and seventies blared in my ears, I longed for the quiet and comfort of sharing real, present-day life with those I love. So at ten-thirty I said my goodbyes to Joyce and her friends and to high school for the last time.
Some days I long for the reunion that will take place when I walk through heaven's gates, and these are the people I want to talk to first:
1. Jesus - a very dear friend. He once laid down His life for me. He knew my name before I was born, my maiden and married names. He pursued my heart and became the lover of my soul when I shyly let Him in at seven years of age. Not only has He been by my side all these years, but He has lived within me to guide, comfort, rebuke and cherish me. He is a very dear friend, and when I reach glory, I want to see Him first. I want to bow at His feet and hug His neck and feel His arms pulling me into the 'in' group.
2. Mama - my earliest friend. I want to tell her that I never appreciated her enough and I'm sorry for that. I also want to tell her how much her devoted life influenced mine. And I want to hug her and laugh with her and tell her about my grandchildren who she never got to meet.
3. Daddy - my other earliest friend. I want to hear his laughter and just sit with him for awhile.
4. Daddy's daddy - He died when my daddy was 11 years old, so I never got to meet him. But I've read things he wrote and things people wrote about him, and I know I'm going to love him.
5. My other grandparents and Aunt Pony and Aunt Tamar (two old-maid great aunts who were like extra grandmothers to me).
Of course, there are others I'm going to want to see and talk to, but these will be first. And I think we'll be able to hear each other because I hear the music there is beautiful.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Fingernails and Forgiveness
When I was a child we lived in Hong Kong. My parents were missionaries, and we were not rich, but compared to the average Chinese family there, we were very wealthy. In that culture, wealthy people had servants, so we had a servant, too. Ah-King was our combination cook, housekeeper and nanny.
Ah-King would let me hang around while she squatted to cut vegetables for dinner, did the wash, or whatever. One day, when she and I were the only ones home, I wandered away from her into my parents' bedroom. Bored and looking for something to pass the time, I drifted into their bathroom and came upon the beautiful sight of my mother's red fingernail polish sitting on the counter. Somehow knowing I shouldn't but not being able to resist, I proceeded to paint my fingernails while unintentionally daubing bright red patches all over my fingertips and parts of the bathroom counter and sink as well.
Just about the minute I put the brush back in the bottle for the last time, Ah-King came looking for me. Hearing her calling my name, I closed the door and locked it quickly, smearing red polish on the doorknob. Seconds later her Chinese-accented voice came through the heavy wooden door, "Miss Joy, you in there?"
I frantically turned the faucet on and began washing my hands. "Yes," I answered, voice quavering. "I'm almost finished. I had to go to the bathroom, and I'm washing my hands." The lie hung heavy in the room, feeling like a weight on my back.
Imagine my little-girl horror when the red stuff wouldn't come off!! I scrubbed and scrubbed to no avail, and my dismay quickly turned to dread.
"Miss Joy, what you doing?" Ah-King persisted. "Open this door."
Realizing I was a cooked goose, I turned the lock and slowly peeked out, clasping my hands behind my back (which, by the way, is a sure indication that a child has something to hide). Ah-King leveled her small frame against the large wooden door and pushed into the bathroom.
"Ah-ee-ya!" she cried. "What you been doing in here?"
"I-I was just trying to ma-make my fin-fingernails pretty," I sobbed and stuttered, "but it wo-won't come off. Not e-even when I wash with so-oap."
When she saw my hands, Ah-King shook her head and scolded, "Miss Joy, you know you not suppose to play with your mother's things." Then she took a long look at my tear-stained face still frozen in a horrified expression and said, "You never do this again?"
I quickly shook my head "No," so Ah-King opened a drawer and took out a plastic bottle and some cotton pads. She deftly began applying the magic liquid in the bottle to the cotton pads and then used the cotton pads on my fingers, the counter, the sink, the cabinet, the floor and the door. Where red had been, normalcy surfaced. I can still remember the disbelief, relief and gratitude I felt.
"Are you going to tell on me?" I asked, bottom lip protruding.
"No, but you be good, you hear?"
Ah-King had been given the authority of a parent that day, but she chose to be a servant to me. She put herself in my place and cleaned me up. How relieved I was. I couldn't get the 'sin' off me, but she knew how to do it and had mercy on me. She took responsibility for the dirty cotton pads in the trash can. She acted as if it never happened. I honestly don't remember much of anything else Ah-King ever did, but I remember her mercy and I remember that I loved her dearly.
"This the pow'r of the cross;
Christ became sin for us.
Took the blame, bore the wrath -
We stand forgiven at the cross." - Getty
Ah-King would let me hang around while she squatted to cut vegetables for dinner, did the wash, or whatever. One day, when she and I were the only ones home, I wandered away from her into my parents' bedroom. Bored and looking for something to pass the time, I drifted into their bathroom and came upon the beautiful sight of my mother's red fingernail polish sitting on the counter. Somehow knowing I shouldn't but not being able to resist, I proceeded to paint my fingernails while unintentionally daubing bright red patches all over my fingertips and parts of the bathroom counter and sink as well.
Just about the minute I put the brush back in the bottle for the last time, Ah-King came looking for me. Hearing her calling my name, I closed the door and locked it quickly, smearing red polish on the doorknob. Seconds later her Chinese-accented voice came through the heavy wooden door, "Miss Joy, you in there?"
I frantically turned the faucet on and began washing my hands. "Yes," I answered, voice quavering. "I'm almost finished. I had to go to the bathroom, and I'm washing my hands." The lie hung heavy in the room, feeling like a weight on my back.
Imagine my little-girl horror when the red stuff wouldn't come off!! I scrubbed and scrubbed to no avail, and my dismay quickly turned to dread.
"Miss Joy, what you doing?" Ah-King persisted. "Open this door."
Realizing I was a cooked goose, I turned the lock and slowly peeked out, clasping my hands behind my back (which, by the way, is a sure indication that a child has something to hide). Ah-King leveled her small frame against the large wooden door and pushed into the bathroom.
"Ah-ee-ya!" she cried. "What you been doing in here?"
"I-I was just trying to ma-make my fin-fingernails pretty," I sobbed and stuttered, "but it wo-won't come off. Not e-even when I wash with so-oap."
When she saw my hands, Ah-King shook her head and scolded, "Miss Joy, you know you not suppose to play with your mother's things." Then she took a long look at my tear-stained face still frozen in a horrified expression and said, "You never do this again?"
I quickly shook my head "No," so Ah-King opened a drawer and took out a plastic bottle and some cotton pads. She deftly began applying the magic liquid in the bottle to the cotton pads and then used the cotton pads on my fingers, the counter, the sink, the cabinet, the floor and the door. Where red had been, normalcy surfaced. I can still remember the disbelief, relief and gratitude I felt.
"Are you going to tell on me?" I asked, bottom lip protruding.
"No, but you be good, you hear?"
Ah-King had been given the authority of a parent that day, but she chose to be a servant to me. She put herself in my place and cleaned me up. How relieved I was. I couldn't get the 'sin' off me, but she knew how to do it and had mercy on me. She took responsibility for the dirty cotton pads in the trash can. She acted as if it never happened. I honestly don't remember much of anything else Ah-King ever did, but I remember her mercy and I remember that I loved her dearly.
"This the pow'r of the cross;
Christ became sin for us.
Took the blame, bore the wrath -
We stand forgiven at the cross." - Getty
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