Category: a bit of history

a bit of history · friends and loved ones

are we there yet?

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We’ve just returned from what seems like an epic journey.  It all began 13 days ago…

With the car loaded up, we left early in the morning on New year’s Day, headed for my parents’ home which is more than thirteen hours away.  Within moments of merging into traffic on the interstate, around 4:00 in the morning, I heard the words, “Are we there yet?”  from my daughter.

Seriously?

“No, Emily. We won’t be there until around supper time.”  But within an hour, the same question sounded from the back seat.  and again, my answer.  “No, Emily.  We won’t get to Nanny and Papa’s until around supper time.”

The second leg of our journey took us part way home, via Columbus, Ohio to visit some friends.  Its a mere five hours from Grand Rapids, which seemed fairly short in comparison to the first part of our trip.  And still, we had to answer the question – this time from two children, “Are we there yet?”  My son learned quickly from his sister.  great.  We answered again and again – at 10 minute intervals.

Its hard to understand.  Even when we reach the destination, there will still be another trip to take…  until we’re home.

And so, we made the final drive home yesterday.  But not without the infamous question.  I don’t know how many times I said “We’ll be home in just a little bit.”

These short little conversations with my children have been resonating in my ears.  They are similar to conversations I have with my Heavenly Father regularly.

“Really, do I have to learn this lesson again?  I thought I had accomplished this already?  Aren’t we there yet?”  This is what I ask Him, when he sets me on a path- even though I thought I had arrived at my destination already… ” Surely I know how to be patient!” or  “Didn’t you remind me to trust You just last week?”  Really, I thought…

“Oh, my daughter!  You have so much to learn.  We’re just getting started, its a long way before we arrive home…”

And I ask Him again, because I’m sure I misunderstood.  “Are we there yet?  I’m tired of this lesson, its hard and I feel like I’ve accomplished this concept…”

But its only been ten minutes since I asked the last time and He assures me we still have a distance to go.   In fact, we’re going to keep learning until we get home…  “I’ll let you know when we arrive…”  He says.

*sigh*

I’m in good company…Paul talks about pressing forward in Philippians 3, learning to stay on the road heavenward:

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

I have to be thankful.   He’s with me.  I’m still amazed that He even invited me along for the ride.  After all, He knew that I’d be this way.  And He hasn’t grown weary of me and my need to learn again and again.  Instead He gently and graciously answers my questions, reminding me:  Even when we reach an earthly destination, learning a powerful lesson, its only the beginning – There’s still another leg of the journey to embark on, until we reach our heavenly home.

a bit of history · friends and loved ones

The China Cabinet…

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From my seat, here on the couch I can see through the windows of my mother’s china cabinet.  She has beautiful place settings of Royal Doulton China.  I have enjoyed eating many special dinners from these dishes.  But that’s not what is on display in the windows.

There are cups and saucers.  Many of them.  I have enjoyed looking at these pieces my whole life and I have even had a cup of hot tea on occasion from them.  These are not the regular cups that belong with my mother’s china – these are special.

My mom has cups and saucers from many women’s place settings.  She was given them as gifts, I believe, from different people in her life – from an aunt, her mother, her grandmother, loyal friends, that kind of thing.  They are each as different and beautiful as the women who gave them to her.  Guilded edges, petite flowers, hearty plaids, solid bold colors – each unique in their own way.

I guess we started a family tradition because I also have a similar collection of tea cups at home.  Several were given to me for wedding gifts from relatives and close friends.  I treasure them because they remind me of fellowship and family meals with loved ones over the years.  They each have a face attached to them in my memory.

One is from my grandmother – a delicate lacy pink pattern, with tiny dark pink flowers and a golden edging around the lip of the cup.  It is one of my favorites – and my mom has one too in her cabinet.  Another is from Mrs. Jones, a close family friend.  Her cup, given to me from her set of china, is stunning with dark reds and large burgundy flowers. I was so honored when she shared it with me.

Over time these special pieces of china have come to mean far more than a fond memory.  Each of these women had a story.  For me they represent womanhood at its finest, living lives to serve their families and loved ones.   They are women of strength and wisdom, beauty and grace.  How I long to be like these godly women.

If I’m honest with myself I know that I’m pretty far removed from their example.  I’m not the servant I should be, let alone being selfless.   I don’t always have gracious wisdom for a friend.  A kind and patient word is not what always comes from my mouth when dealing with my children.    I rarely pass the test of godly womanhood.  Even the small trial of a sleepless night wears away all Christ -like -ness to ungodly behavior.

“Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.” (1 Peter 5:9-11)

This Scripture, like my teacups, encourages me.  There is hope for me.  I am not alone – there are women who have gone through many trials before me.   And, now their cups stand like trophies of God’s grace in my mother’s cabinet and in my cupboard at home.

May God continue His work in my heart and life until I am able to pass on one of my own cups to a daughter of the future generation.

md.

(written December 29, 2009)

a bit of history

tales from the North…

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I’m in Michigan, on holiday with my parents and my little family, celebrating the New Year.

The story goes, as told by my parents, that when I was in kindergarten I was proficient at letting people know what I thought.   I didn’t know how to hide my ideas or feelings at all.

At five, I was prepared to be honest, as far as I knew how.  So – when the kindergarten teacher asked each child what their fathers did at work, I told the truth.  I told Mrs. Wilkinson and the teacher’s aid and all of my peers that my dad went to the bus garage and got dirty.  In all sincerity, that was a part of my dad’s occupation.  He was a pastor, back in the late 70’s, in charge of the bus ministry.  They had a lot of buses that went out weekly to pick up adults and children for church.  My dad was responsible for making sure that all of those buses were up and running – well, along with a lot of other things that he managed for the church.

Needless to say – I’m reminded of the misunderstanding regularly when I come home for visits.  We have a good laugh over it and then the conversation  moves on to other topics, usually other embarrassing things that I said as a child to people that I had no business saying.  I was really good at that back then – I probably still am… But, back to the situation at hand.

I don’t think that my dad ever dreamed that I didn’t know what he did.  And surely, the last thing that he wanted people to think was that he didn’t do anything.  He worked hard – at the bus garage and otherwise.  But, I didn’t know that – I just saw him come home, in dirty coveralls, with really stained hands, talking about being at the bus garage.  I never actually saw him at the garage working hard.

Well – after we relived the story once again, for the umpteenth time, I wondered.  What do my children think I do?  I mean, how do they see my life’s efforts?  Do they just hear me talk about being a believer?  or do my actions convey what I believe? Do they know first hand that I am a Christ follower?

I would like to tell you that I am stellar example and they know exactly what it means to follow Christ because they see my occupation following my heart’s desire.  But, I can’t promise you that is the case.  I’m good at talking.  good at hoping.  good at praying and wishing.

With 2011 here, at my doorstep, I realize more than ever I want my children to see my actions, my life in progress and know beyond a shadow of a doubt what my intentions are, who I’m following and why.

Ephesians 5 says this

v1&2:Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly loved children 2 and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

v8-15For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light 9 (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth)10 and find out what pleases the Lord.

Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. 12 It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. 13 But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. 14 This is why it is said:

“Wake up, sleeper,
rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”

15 Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, 16 making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.

Here where the calendar marks new beginnings and fresh starts, this is my prayer:  That my life will be full, making the most of every opportunity – living so that my children know that I am following Jesus and that they will want to follow Him too.

May it be so!

md

a bit of history

no death by chocolate

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A weekend or two ago, I was at a cookie exchange with a few friends.  While visiting with my good friend, the hostess, we began sharing war stories.  The discussion was totally inappropriate talk for a cookie exchange – and disgusting.  We were talking about rats.

We found out, during our completely revolting chat that each of us had, in the past, had a mouse that we caught in our houses at one time or another.  My particular account is kind of interesting…

Before Isaac was born, Michael and I came to the realization that we had an intruder and set out to catch it.  We tried everything, to no avail.  The more days that rolled by, and the longer it took – the more brazen he became!  We tried poison, snapping traps and sticky traps.  Nothing.  He was impossible to catch!

Well, as it so happens, it became apparent that our little intruder enjoyed orange cream hershey’s kisses.  Michael prepared to set an irresistible trap.  We got the largest sticky trap we could find and we set it out with the bait in the center of course,  an orange cream Hershey’s kiss.

It worked.  We came out the next morning… and this is what we found.  The tiniest little white mouse was anxiously alternating between trying to eat that candy and trying to squirm his way off of the trap.

Its a bit ironic that I revived this memory at a cookie exchange.

You see, I live this way – like the little white mouse, quite regularly.  I know what one of my besetting sins is: it has to do with self control and overindulging in sweets.  I also know that in the midst of doing my best to live a life of self control, I test myself sometimes.   My personal picture is so similar to that little mouse… trying to get away, but staying to nibble on the bait, on the road to death by chocolate…

Its an ongoing story – even Paul told us of his struggle in Scripture: ( I guess this is my paraphrase)

The things I know I should do, I can’t seem to manage.  The things I should stop doing, I keep on doing anyway…

At this time of year, just before I say goodbye to 2010 and start fresh into 2011 – I’ve been thinking about this little object lesson.  I should probably be making resolutions… I know that there will always be desserts  – or other areas where I’ll need to use self control – I can’t just run away from everything. right?  Is there any help or hope for me in this situation?

I know these two things.  There is the Holy spirit – He is available for discernment – to help me with my choices, to whisper in my ear and help me avoid those deadly traps.   But, the best news of all, my life does not have to end with sin and death… there is mercy  and a promise of forgiveness when I make the wrong choice.

Ephesians 1:3-8

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. 4For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love 5 he[b] predestined us for adoption to sonship[c] through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—6 to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. 7 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace 8 that he lavished on us.

I can live life, bypassing the traps, avoiding death – because of His grace.  Thank Heavens – there will not be death by chocolate for me!  AMEN!

a bit of history · friends and loved ones

red mittens…

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(originally written february 2010)

I can still remember a pair of red mittens that I wore as a child while playing outside in the snow. They were made of a bright red, water proof material and they were very warm. There was one thing these mittens could do that was very cool.

With these mittens on, I could catch snowflakes. Seeing a snowflake up close can be so intriguing. I remember holding my hands out, palms up and staring at each of the little flakes as they landed. If I was still, and not too warm, I could examine the tiny wonders for quite a while. Well, at least thirty seconds anyway, which truly is an eternity when you’re little.

Living in the south as an adult I often miss the cold weather and the snow. I have not had the opportunity to miss it this winter. We have had snow regularly for more than a week now. Yesterday as I drove up Signal Mountain, Emily and I had a discussion about the falling snowflakes. I realized as we talked that she did not know a very familiar principle that I had learned a long time ago. Each snow flake is different. That’s right – not one can be mirrored in image.

How amazing it is that the God of the universe is so creative that He fashions each snowflake differently. Impressive little works of art, falling from the heavens.

Even more incredible is the masterpiece that is me. Before time, God knew me and created me to be different, with my own set of qualities, circumstances and characteristics. And so it is with every human being. He is unsurpassed in his handiwork. Each of us so unique, yet made for the exact same purpose.

Among the gods there is none like you, O Lord;

no deeds can compare with yours.

All the nations you have made

will come and worship before you, O Lord;

they will bring glory to your name.

For you are great and do marvelous deeds;

you alone are God.

Psalm 86: 8-10

When I think back to those beautiful snowflakes with the red mittens as their background, they seem to form the very portrait of God’s plan. It is His will as the creator of all things that we, His creation love and adore Him. He desires that all of us, find love and forgiveness by way of the blood shed, His sacrifice on the cross. With the beginning of His work in our hearts, our distinct voices join together to make up a symphony of worship that is incomparable. This is the culmination of an amazing, artistic God.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

Psalm 139:14

a bit of history · in my kitchen

cream bun

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I think of them especially at Christmas and my tastebuds can’t forget them!  My grandmother made them and brought them to every Brubacher family reunion.  Cream buns.  I don’t think my words can do them justice, but I’ll try…

Let’s see – they were like a yeast dinner roll, but with a bit of sugar – their texture was a light and creamy crumb, but sweet and buttery – and in the center was a light, fluffy cream.  I think I just drooled on my keyboard.   If you have ever tasted one (which I know some of you have) you know that they will be served in Heaven at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.

At Christmas one year, I remember when Grandma began making just enough for one each – which was quite a lot because our family is huge with all of the cousins getting married and having children.  It seems like she had labelled each one so that each person knew that there was one for them.  Within minutes everyone had eaten their cream bun…  It was a known fact: You can’t leave an unattended cream bun laying around because a passerby might think you don’t want yours and avail themselves of the extra, unwanted delicacy.

I remember standing at the table where the sweets were laying out and looking at them knowing that my grandmother had labored and toiled over those delicious treats just for us. Suddenly my personally labeled cream bun meant so much more than something delicious for me to savor.  It was a completely lovely gift.

When I think on it a bit more in depth, particularly now at Christmastime, I realize It wasn’t a once a year thing at Christmas- no, Grandma’s entire life  was given in service. She was able to give out of love, because she herself had received love.  She was able to sacrifice because someone had sacrificed for her…

There is a gift.  A very special, wonderful, one of a kind gift that was given to us many many years ago.  God, our Heavenly Father sent His one and only precious son to earth.   He came in order to redeem the world – to set things right again.  But, with that in mind, I know that this redemption begins in a very individual way- He came for me – for my sin – to be my righteousness.

Its a personal gift, filled with love and He labeled it in His word :

John 3:16  For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in Him will not perish but have everlasting life.

Heavenly Father, Help me to live more sacrificially. And as I come to know Your Love more fully and deeply show me how to share this beautiful gift with others who do not know You.  amen.

a bit of history · who knows?

is there rest for this merry gentlewoman?

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This morning marked the beginning of my week.  Michael was off yesterday, so my Monday felt like part of our holiday weekend… which made today my Monday.

It seems like I write this so often – but this morning I felt every item on my “to-do” list in a clammer for attention- I was befuddled, in a whirl-wind of activity, but accomplishing nothing.  My thoughts were completely fragmented and jagged around the edges.  I couldn’t place it, but I was officially out of sorts.

How does this happen?  I’ve had a wonderful weekend – my daughters birthday party was a huge success.  We had a superb Thanksgiving meal with Michael’s family.  Our house is now aglow with the lights of Christmas.  What is the matter?

And then I remembered…

Tomorrow is the beginning of Advent.  While I want to relish and rest in the beauty of Christ’s coming, I feel the angst.  Its like tug of war on my heart.  There is so much to do in such a small window of time – I can’t relax.  And yet my mind wants peace.  My heart needs solace.

So, what’s a girl to do in the midst of this calm before the storm.  On the day before the rush begins – Where is the path to quiet spaces?  Where is my escape route?

Well, I put on “The Messiah.”  The symphony began to play, while I started a bit of school work with Emily.  The words from Scripture began to clear my head, and my heart was at ease…

I remember laying in bed at night as a child.  Around Christmas time my mom would put a record of the Messiah on the turntable for our bedtime music … and this restless little girl would find sleep a little easier.  The choir would sing out passages that massaged my heart and mind.  Is there anything more therapeutic and relaxing than gorgeous harmonies combined with God’s Word?

That same music is doing its work, even now, from my ipod…

“And the glory, the glory of the Lord shall be revealed- and all flesh shall see it together…”

“Behold a virgin shall conceive…”

“Glory to God, Glory to God in the highest!  And peace on earth.”

“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.  And the government shall be upon His shoulders.  And His name shall be called, wonderful, counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the prince of Peace.”

“His yoke is easy and His burden is light.”

“I know that my Redeemer liveth and that He shall stand in the latter day upon the earth…”

*aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh*  (that’s my audible sigh of relaxation)

My soul is flooded with peace and I find myself rejuvenated.  My mind is clear, finally – after the craziness of the morning.  I have been able to refocus on my heavenly Father, who all of those years ago, sent His Son to earth in order to fulfill His plan for redemption.   Knowing this redemption in my own heart brings joy with the peace – and I think I might be ready for the celebrating…  Advent begins tomorrow, and I find myself prepared, for once, to start the season off right – with peace and joy.

Thank you heavenly Father for bringing rest to this merry gentle woman. amen.

a bit of history

Better than Clay’s Ferry…

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Twelve Christmases ago, I received an unforgettable gift.  I hadn’t been living in Chattanooga long, only about 4 months or so.  There was a young man in my life at that time named Michael Day.  He was sweet and kind, a gentleman, handsome and a fabulous musician.

As Christmas approached, I became concerned about the prospect of gift -giving.  I had no idea what to give Michael – and I couldn’t help but wonder what he might give me.  When you’re in a fresh relationship it can be a delicate situation.  At any rate, I had no idea that I was in for  the surprise of my life.

I left town the week before Christmas to spend the holiday with my family.  We made plans that my mom, at the end of that week, would bring me from Ohio half way back to Chattanooga.  Michael would meet us somewhere in Kentucky to bring me back the rest of the way home.

And that’s exactly what we did.  My mom and I said our goodbyes on the front porch of the Cracker Barrel, I loaded up my luggage into the car and Michael and I headed for home.  We drove about 2 or 3 miles down the interstate and Michael pulled off of I-75 at the Clay’s Ferry exit.  He said he had a gift for me.  We parked in an empty parking lot out in the middle of nowhere in Kentucky and he played a CD for me.

We listened as snow fell.  It was my song, forever after known as Clay’s Ferry because that’s where I heard it for the first time.   He had written a song and recorded it on his guitar.  It was amazing.  There were no words – just incredibly beautiful music.   Without lyrics, he was declaring his love for me and I could feel the gentle harmonies wrapping around me like a warm blanket on that very cold winter afternoon.

*sigh*

Today, on a day when most people are getting their Christmas shopping started, I am stumped.  I am having a hard time thinking about giving.  My typical shopping list is blank this year.  I’ve got nothing…. which is why I had to go back in time to dwell on that amazing gift, given to me by my husband.  It gets me into a generous frame of mind when I think of  those precious moments.

It would be hard for me to imagine giving extravagantly, if I hadn’t been given such a meaningful, loving gift.

And that brings me to the heart of the matter.  One of the most incredible, sacrificial, loving and generous gifts ever given, was purchased for me, by my Heavenly Father when he gave us His Son so many years ago.  At least His incarnation was the beginning of the plan.  A tiny baby, the King of the Universe – was born in Bethlehem, wrapped in a blanket, laid in a manger.  He had come to earth – with the salvation of the entire world in His future.

When I take a moment to really let this settle into my heart and mind, I realize that I am able to give to others out of the abundance of love that I have received from the Heavenly Father.  I’m unable to give the way He has given to me – its not possible.    I have no idea if I can give gifts that even come close to the Clay’s Ferry song.  But my presents this year can be given with a heart full of love and there is no better gift.

amen.

a bit of history

hide the thimble…

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I’ve been remembering a game that my sister and I played when we were little with my Great Grandmother (who we affectionately called GG).  On rainy days, or days that were too hot, or for no other reason than we loved it, we would play “hide the thimble.”  We would spend hours :  one person would hide this little silver thimble in nooks and crannies around GG’s house – and then the others would search for it.

So, you can imagine my excitement when I came across this little holiday item. ( Yes, I’m preparing for Christmas- sorry to burst your bubble if you’ve been in denial or procrastinating…)   Its called the “Elf on the Shelf.”  You use the book and the little elf figurine, counting down to Christmas each day of December by reading the book and hiding the figurine so the children can search for him around the house.

I was elated, right up until I realized there was a problem.

With GG, it wasn’t just fun stuff like thimbles and splitzies (you’ll have to look back on my blog for the definition of a splitzie) – it was Jesus and Scripture memory and wholesome thoughts and character building.  She was a big part of my spiritual development.  Which brings me to the problem:  The Elf on the Shelf had nothing to do with Jesus – at a time of year when everything should be very carefully centered around Him.

Now, if you have an “Elf on the Shelf” – I am not condemning it.  It looks like a lot of fun.  But, we (my husband and I) are making a concerted effort to really celebrate the entire Advent season this December leading right up to the day of Christmas, with our hearts and minds on Christ.  Which is why I’ve decided to trade the Elf on the Shelf for a Christmas thimble.

This season, every day of Advent, I will take turns with Emily and Isaac, hiding our beautiful Christmas thimble, instead of the elf – and when it is found, we will read our Advent Scriptures for the day, instead of the Elf story.  It all seems to fit together like a puzzle.  Just as much as GG loved to play games and have fun with us, she also loved to teach us God’s Word and help us hide it in our hearts.  And now – during this Christmas season, I have found a way to focus on Christ with my own children, using a GG inspired thimble.

Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.  Colossians 3:16-17

a bit of history

Power Outage

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It was our first day home from a vacation.  I don’t know about you, but my house literally looks like a tornado hit the day we return.  No matter how much I clean and tidy up before leaving, it is a disaster area when we arrive home.  This time was no exception.

This particular instance happened just a few days after Christmas, so we were expected at Michael’s parents early in the day to celebrate with family.  Normally this would not be a problem for me, even if my home is beyond hope, I can usually pull it together and get everyone out the door.  And I really don’t mind procrastinating when it comes to cleaning up such mayhem.

But this time was different.   I was getting breakfast ready when the power went out.  This is where the struggle began.  My coffee had not finished brewing.  As the morning progressed, more problems became apparent.  I found myself rummaging through suitcases in dimly lit rooms for clean clothes.  The toiletries were in the bathroom – which does not have a window to let in daylight.   Never have toothbrushes and toothpaste been so elusive.   And I kept stubbing my toe on luggage in the hallway that hadn’t been put away yet.  At one point it crossed my mind that all of this may be for nothing if the power didn’t come on – I couldn’t go anywhere if the garage door wasn’t going to open…

On every front my efforts were thwarted.  I needed power!  Until this moment I had forgotten just how much I rely on the luxury of electricity.  I flip a switch and “voila” the lights come on.  I plug in my hairdryer and it blows hot air. At the push of a button the television becomes immediate entertainment for my children.

There are days that I re-enact this scenario spiritually.  I forget that I have ultimate power for living.   Why do I struggle in the dark, powerless when there is the promise for power and strength for my life?  I don’t know the answer to this question.  I guess it is a part of my sin nature.   The desire for independence is strong – but it takes me to dark hallways where I can’t see and I end up completely immobile.

Ephesians 1:18-19 “I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength,”

It is only through Christ that I find strength for each moment – Hope for a bright future comes with total dependence on Him.   With the Holy Spirit as my momentum I can live a life complete, without a power outage!