Countdown to Passover

Yesterday was Sunday, and we were enjoying one of the few sunny days that we have seen since Christmas. When our babies left (that means our youngest son who is 30 and his wife), Burt and I headed over to our lake for a short time. Together we launched the john boat that he fishes from. I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't full of water and that the trolling motor was charged! I think Burt expected me to sit on the dock and read, but I am becoming more and more aware of the moments that I can participate in something that he really enjoys, so I go in the boat with him. I still read, but I looked up enough to cheer him on when he got a bite. I even attempted to grab a bass by the lower jaw and lift him out of the water. Ouch! He was heavier that I thought he'd be, and stronger!

I'm still enthralled with Carol Brazo's book, No Ordinary Home. I read some more about her family's celebration of Lent, and I'm feeling more discouraged about my own observance. My efforts seem so puny in comparison. I'm trying to focus on the sacrifice that Jesus made, and it's simply more than my mind can grasp.

I looked at the scenery surrounding me, and it was so peaceful, even in its winter attire. The water provided a perfect mirror image of the dock; in fact, it look like two docks stacked on top of each other. I watched a duck coming in like a kamikaze and landing on his chosen spot. I watched as the logs and stumps in the lake passed lazily beside us as our boat glided along. The late afternoon sky was beginning to gather a few rain clouds before evening, and the clouds looked like graphite smudges on a piece of gray paper. The only sounds were the zing of Burt fishing rod when a bass struck and the soft whir of the trolling motor. Somewhere behind the last of the white clouds that floated like silk scarves, there was the sound of some kind of migrating bird, probably returning home after his winter getaway, but we couldn't see them. Altogether, it was calm and serene, and we could experience the world from a distance.

My thought then turned to the Lent season. I tried to imagine what Jesus was feeling when He was on Earth, spending time with His disciples, counting the days until the Passover Celebration when His body would become the ultimate sacrifice for mankind's redeemption. I realized that I couldn't fathom it. I began to feel a touch of heaviness in my own spirit, not because I could experience some of His Passion, but because I couldn't.

All I could do was to thank God silently that Burt and I were brought together in His wonderful preordained plan, blessed beyond description with amazing sons and totally wonderful daughters-in-law. Since we have mastered the art of reading each other's thoughts, Burt said at that point, "We have an awesome family, don't we?"

As we pulled that boat back on the shore and took out the plug, Burt said, "Look at the sun." It hadn't begun to set at that time, but was giving us its last blaze of glory before its descent. I left feeling peaceful, yet wanting more. I believe it will come. There are 34 more days before Resurrection Sunday.

This year I'm attempting to do something I haven't done successfully before: I'm trying to really observe the season of Lent. I've never had this modeled for me, since my Baptist background didn't stress it the same way that some of my Catholic friends did, although I always thought that denying myself something pleasurable in order to focus on the sacrifice Jesus Christ made for me was a good thing to do.

I was so impressed with our pastor's leadership two Sundays ago when he called for a Fast to be observed by our entire church body for the season of Lent. The purpose of it is to pray and fast for the healing of a 5-year-old child in our midst who is awaiting a bone marrow transplant. The idea of a corporate Fast opened new possibilities for the Holy Spirit to operate, not only in a miracle of healing for little Creed, but in the lives of all of us involved.

The decision to be really intentional about the observance of Lent has challenged me, and apparently it has had the same effect on many others. I've had heard different ones saying what they were going to deny themselves: ice cream, breads, sodas, red meat, caffeine. Others are laying down habits that are taking time away from the Kingdom's work or from their families, such as Internet surfing, Facebook and blog reading. Personally, mine is going to have to be coffee. I do love it! I'm thinking I'll not have any caffeine, but allow occasional decaf. Is that a compromise?

I've tried fasting before, and I find myself thinking about the food that I can't eat more than focusing of the Lord. I feel so inadequate as a follower of Jesus! I have been a Christian for over 50 years; I should have mastered this habit long ago. I read books on Fasting, such as Fasting for Spiritual Breakthrough by Elmer Towns and Fasting by Jentzen Franklin. What they have to say makes so much sense spiritually, yet giving up some little pleasure of mine seems so trivial compared to what Jesus did for our redemption. That's why, this year, I want this season to be truly meaningful. When Resurrection Sunday gets here, I want to feel a celebration as never before.

Two books have given me some inspiration. One is called Celebrating the Christian Year by Martha Zimmerman, and the other is No Ordinary Home by Carol Brazo. This is the book that has been mentioned by several of the Christian bloggers that I follow, and it is certainly a gem. I paid $41.00 for a used paperback (!) because I had heard so much about it. From these resources, I am getting some inspiration for ways to keep my mind on Christ and God's Big Plan of redemption.

One idea was to have an "Easter tree" with ornaments depicting story of Jesus added each week or each day during Lent. Since I'm not as creative or as crafty as the young bloggers that I read, I decided the tree was more than I could tackle. I happened to be shopping in Hobby Lobby with a wonderful young mom who was also trying to do the same thing. We moaned over our lack of creativity when we spotted a wooden platter that we thought looked "Biblical." We decided that having it sit in the middle of the table with a symbol of some sort on it would serve the purpose. The focus of the first week of Lent is the fall of mankind, so when we found a wooden snake, we were inspired to keep going! Two hours later, we had found everything we needed to depict each lesson that reveals the sequence of events from the Creation to the Resurrection. We found a lamb to represent the sacrifice, a dove for the baptism, an alabaster jar for Jesus' anointing, a salt shaker in the shape of a light bulb for the Sermon on the Mount, miniature loaves and wine goblets, bowl and pitcher for the Last Supper, a wooden cross, and the recipe for Easter Cookies for Resurrection Morning. (If you aren't familiar with Easter Cookies, I'll include the recipe at the end of this post.)

I think I'm on my way to celebrating this season. My giving up caffeine is such a tiny, trivial thing, but I'm praying that it is only the beginning. Trying to fathom what my Savior did for me is too mind boggling, but I want to be as open as possible in order to receive what the Holy Spirit has to teach me. I walked through the breakfast room this morning and would have welcomed the familiar smell of fresh coffee. It inspired me to add to my visual.

This may seem silly, but it reminds me that anything that I enjoy more than I enjoy fellowship with my Savior needs to be cut out of my life. Just now, that's what He needs to teach me.

EASTER COOKIE RECIPE!

Making cookies with your children

to teach the true meaning of EASTER!

The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory,

the glory of the One and Only, Who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

John 1:14

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You Need

Help & permission from Parents!

1- cup whole pecans

1-teaspoon vinegar

3 egg whites

pinch of salt

1-cup sugar

zipper baggie

wooden spoon

tape

Bible

EASTER COOKIES

Preheat the oven to 300 (this is important-don't wait 'til you're half-done with the recipe)

1. Place the pecans in the baggie and let the kids beat them with the wooden spoon to break them into pieces. Explain that after Jesus was arrested, He was beaten by the Roman soldiers.

Read John 19:1-3

2. Put the vinegar into a mixing bowl. Let each child smell the vinegar. Explain that when Jesus was on the cross and He became thirsty, He was offered vinegar to drink.

Read John 19:28-30

3. Add the egg whites to the vinegar. The eggs represent life. Explain that Jesus gave His life so that we could have life.

Read John 10:10-11

4. Sprinkle a little salt into each child's hand and let them taste it. Put the rest into the bowl. Explain that this represents the salty tears shed by Jesus' followers, and the bitterness of our own sin.

Read Luke 23:27

5. So far the ingredients are not very appetizing. Add 1 cup of sugar. Explain that the sweetest part of the story is that Jesus died because He loves us. He wants us to know and belong to Him.

Read Psalm 34:8 and John 3:16

6. Beat the egg whites with a mixer on high speed for 12 to 15 minutes, until stiff peaks form. Explain that the color white represents the purity in God's eyes of those whose sins have been cleansed by Jesus.

Read Isa. 1:18 and John 3:1-3

7. Fold in the broken nuts. Drop by teaspoons onto a wax paper cookie sheet. Explain that each mound represents the rocky tomb where Jesus body was laid to rest.

Read Matt. 27:57-60

8. Put the cookie sheet in the oven, close the door and turn the oven off.

9. Give each child a piece of tape and seal the door. Explain that Jesus tomb was sealed.

Read Matt. 27:65-66

10. Go to bed. Explain that they may feel sad to leave the cookies in the oven overnight and that Jesus followers were in despair when the tomb was sealed.

Read John 16:20-22

11. On Easter morning, open the oven and give everyone a cookie. Notice the cracked surface and take a bite. the cookies are hollow! ON THE FIRST EASTER, Jesus' followers were amazed to find His tomb empty.

Read Matt. 28: 1-9

Seasons

Since our marriage became filled with boys, it seems that all my Saturdays have been associated with a Season. There was always either a sports season or a hunting season, from football to basketball to baseball to deer hunting, to turkey hunting…and so on. Once, when school was out for the summer break, I challenged the boys as to what they would do with no season to dictate their activities. One of the older ones, now a seasoned teenager, replied with gusto, “Are you kidding, Mom? This is GIRL season!” (Our boys were normal, after all.)

As the boys grew older, I welcomed the Saturdays of the hunting seasons with mixed feelings. The good feelings were associated with the fact that the boys would have something to do that they could share with their dad, and the fact that if they should die in the woods, they would die happy. The not-so-good feelings came from the tsunami of activity that overwhelmed me on these days. There would be many hungry hunters, not only my men, but numerous friends who were in and out during the day. The level of expectation associated with those days was almost palpable as the camouflaged stealth hunters headed for the woods.
After their departure, things would be quiet and I could have tranquil time to myself. Then before I was ready, the scene would change. The house, particularly the kitchen, would become a cacophony of guns clicking, cartridges clattering, boots thudding, coveralls unzipping, and jacket snaps popping. There would be scuffling and jostling and joking and bragging. This was the time of the day that they enjoyed almost as much as going out initially. Because they never waited for “real” breakfast before leaving in the morning, there was nothing they loved more than homemade blueberry pancakes when they returned. I could watch three boxes of cereal disappear before the pancakes were finished, and there was always never enough milk. They enjoyed sitting around the table and re-living the morning’s exploits for hours. If they couldn’t make them vivid enough with words, they had the video cameras to back up their stories, and they could spend the major part of the day looking and analyzing every nuance of the morning’s experience.

By the end of the day, Saturdays were a blend of mud-caked boots, footballs scattered on the lawn, strew towels left from half-washed hands, shotgun shells scattered on the floor, shotgun pellets in the carpet, sometimes runny noses and wet beds, but always spontaneous hugs and aura of contentment. Their goal for the day was to pack in as much masculine activity as could possibly be experienced, and my goal was to record in my mind the memories.
We must have both succeeded, because as I think about our present day Saturdays, I realize that the purpose of them now is to recreate the experiences, emotions, sights and sounds of Saturdays past. What I have now is a house that is still filled with on occasions with grown men dressed in “camo” who are the same little boys in their hearts. The competition is still there. My serenity is still disturbed, only now it’s usually with apology. The blueberry pancakes are still a favorite treat, but almost every bite is taken with expressed appreciation. Instead of writing in my journal to enable me to cope with my blessings for another six days, I find myself reviewing my notes in order to remember the challenges and be able to encourage other young mothers who are coming behind my on the motherhood path.

Some days the only way I survived was to remind myself that life has its seasons. There would be a time when I could finish a telephone conversation without having to settle a dispute, and I could drink a whole cup of coffee at one sitting. Not always would one meal morph into the next before the dishes were done. One day they might even offer to help with clean-up. Somehow, in the midst of managing their college apartments, owning their own homes, and becoming responsible adult men, this season has arrived. Maybe this is MY season.

And it’s the best one of all.

Age is in the Attitude

Today I had a great compliment. It came from a dear young mom who was in a speech/drama class I taught in high school. She is now the mother of two adorable little girls, and we occasionally meet for coffee in order to discuss the challenges of being a wife and mother, as well as a dozen other topics. When we parted she said to me, "You know why I enjoy being with you so much? It's because you are always so POSITIVE." She pointed out that so often women (and men) of my generation are so... well, negative.

This is a challenge that I started thinking about a good many years ago. I knew that one day I would be a part of the senior generation. Believe me, I have fought it as hard as my body will allow me. Some things are inevitable, but being a positive person with a good attitude is something that, with God's empowerment, I can control. Mt motivation is quite simple: I want people to like me. I especially want young people to like me.

About twenty years ago(really, has it been that long?), I found an article in our hometown newspaper that pertained to aging gracefully. I kept it, because it has the best advice for insuring positive thinking and popularity with people that I have ever seen. It is advice attributed to a Dr. Maria Haynes, a UCLA professor at the time. This is what she suggests.

1. When you are young, find out what qualities in old people are admired by the young. Remember them.

2.Never praise the good old days. Live in the present.

3.Learn early in life how to be well-balanced emotionally, how to control anger. Oldsters who aren't upset by unpleasant events, who can deal with crises wisely, are sought out by young people as sources of advice and strength.

4. Keep alive intellectually. This means not only reading and other cultural activities but maintaining a lively interest in all things going on around you.

5. Maintain strict adherence to principles of personal hygiene. Neat personal appearance and good table manners ,make oldsters attractive to the younger generation.

6. Lay a groundwork early in life. You can't be a pleasant old man or woman unless you cultivate these qualities long before you grow old. They don't come naturally with age.

I need to post these suggestions on my refrigerator because I don't think I'll find anything that says it better. I want to maintain a positive outlook on life. I want to be the kind of woman that is described in Proverbs 31:25, "She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs with no fear of the future." I want that to be me.

A friend was visiting me one day when the boys were younger and she looked out the window at one of them who was walking across the top of the short bridge behind our house. "Isn't that dangerous?" she asked. "Well yea," I replied, "but then so is everything else that they do." Thinking about it, I realized that I was telling the truth.

Things haven't changed a whole lot since they have grown up. Don't get me wrong; they're not foolish and irresponsible (some mothers might disagree). They're just...well, grown up boys. John Eldridge wrote a marvelous book entitled "Wild at Heart." I recommend that every mother of boys read it. Our youngest son actually placed it in my hands when he was a teenager and said, "Read this if you want to understand me." The book describes the heart of a man. It shows how God created man with the desire to conquer and the penchant for adventure and challenge.

I think we mothers of boys do our sons a disservice by trying to squelch their desire for excitement. We try to hold them back and keep them "safe." I believe one of the most significant elements of the relationship I have with our sons is their knowledge that I continuouisly cover them with intercessory prayer. I've never been able to follow them literally (nor would I want to!), but I committed them to God for Him to use them to promote His Kingdom, and that is about as exciting as an adventure can be.

Family Vacation

At the end of this month we're going to try something: We're all going to the beach together. "All" includes five grown sons, three wives (one of whom will be 10 months pregnant), two 2-year-old toddlers,and one 5-month-old baby. Thankfully, everybody will be leaving the dogs and the 14-pound cat somewhere else. This is a big event for us because it will be the first time we have ALL been on vacation together in 7 years, and at that time there were no wives or babies! I'm pretty hyped about this trip because we have been talking about it for months. Everybody is making good suggestions,i.e., how to divide the responsibilities for our night meals among the couples (the two bachelors are considered a couple, much to their chagrin), what games we want to play, when to set up tee times for golf and what day to arrange deep sea fishing.

This all brings back the memory that is indelibly burned in my mind of a family vacation we took when the boys were very young and I was the ONLY planner. This is how I recorded the memory in my journal:

"Our Family Vacation:Recipe for Disaster"

This year we decided to take a two-week family vacation. It was to be a special time for the whole family. Our youngest was two years old.
I began to make preparations for departure about a month in advance. I had planned menus, shopped for groceries, made lists, washed and packed clothes. (I had to unpack most of them because we didn't have anything left in the drawers to wear.)
Eventually everything was stored in the basement playroom: The "Port-a-Crib," five boxes of groceries (there were no grocery stores on the island where we we staying),fishing gear,four large boxes of "Pampers," two ice chests, beach paraphernalia,and four pillowcases full of toys.
The eve of our departure finally arrived. I had checked my list (twice) and everything was in one area except the neatly packed suitcases which were open in the bedrooms. I failed to notice that the two-year-old had stayed in the basement.
As I was busy in the kitchen, the oldest son came to tell me that his baby brother was "playing in the groceries." He had found the family size tea bags and had ripped them all open.I ran downstairs, grabbed him, and decided it was his bedtime.The oldest son vacuumed the tea and the youngest son protested his early bedtime at the top of his lungs for an hour and a half before finally settling down. I began to feel somewhat in control of everything until I opened the door to my bedroom and found our suitcases completely empty with a big pile of clean, crumpled clothes on the floor.I knew who to blame. I yanked the unsuspecting baby from his crib, and made him pick up every article of clothing and put them back into the suitcases. I finally collapsed into bed, certain that nothing else could go wrong.
The next morning, Dad pulled the family STATION WAGON to the basement to pack the stuff we were taking. When he saw it he said,"I thought we were going on vacation, not having a yard sale!" (I didn't think that was funny.)Three hours later, I went to check on his progress. The children were running around, "helping" him load the car while I re-checked my list, and offered irrelevant advice and questioning the bumps and bulges in the soft car top carrier we had bought for this occasion. As my husband wiped sweat with one of the new beach towels, I reminded him there were three cantaloupes and a watermelon at the top of the basement stairs.
At that moment, I had one of those mother's intuition thoughts: The two-year-old had found the cantaloupes. I looked up the stairs just in time to see him looking like a baby "Atlas" holding the biggest one over his head.I jumped back just in time to avoid the orange explosion as the melon came bouncing and bursting down the stairs. Seeds, juice, and pulp went everywhere.
I don't remember how much later it was that we finally pulled out of the driveway, looking every bit like the Beverly Hillbillies. And believe me, if I could have, I would have been like Granny and been sitting in a rocking chair on top of the pile!"


Well...I don't know what to expect this year. I hope my daughters-in-law read this, because they will know that I can certainly relate to the efforts and planning that go into a family adventure like this. Sometimes family vacations are just that... for everyone BUT the Mommy. Can anybody say "Amen"?

Looking at 40 (Years of Marriage)


We just celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary. The thing that has stuck out to me for the past three days has been the blessing of loving family relationships, and I have seen this in some unexpected ways. For example, I have been reading a book by Nicholas Sparks, entitled Three Weeks with My Brother. It’s a memoir of a trip he took with his brother and in it he tells the true story of what their family was like growing up. By today’s definitions, their family would be classified as dysfunctional and dirt poor, the kind of circumstances that anyone looking for an excuse for anti-social behavior and self-pity could exploit. However, the Sparks brothers not only made the best of their situation, but went on to become admirable and successful individuals. (After all, who could deny anything less from books-made-into-movies like The Notebook and Message in a Bottle?) Realizing the challenges that Nicholas Sparks faced as he was writing these novels made me even more of a fan of his than I was already. The thing that impressed me most about the book was the value that he placed on family and familial relationships, although his childhood was so far from perfect. The purpose behind his memoir was to depict the importance and the privilege of protecting and cherishing the bonds that exist within a family.
The same theme was evident in a movie we went to see on our recent “date night.” We saw The Proposal. It’s a light, entertaining movie with no real depth except that it also expresses the desire that everyone has to find family connections. In it, the hardened, self-reliant and self-sufficient book editor, played by Sandra Bullock, gets teary-eyed when she realizes that she yearns for family relationships.
The REAL thing, however, was not what I read and saw that somebody else had written about. The golden experience for me and for my husband of 40 years was the celebration of our own family relationships, ours with each other and ours with our “boys.” Two of our five sons met us on our anniversary weekend to play golf with their dad and have dinner with us. The other three called to wish us a Happy Anniversary and, along with their wives, tell us how much they loved and appreciated us.
Nobody has to verbalize how precious our times together are. I think the realization hit us all at the same time, that the opportunity to enjoy having a loving family is not something that we should take for granted. Gathering only once or twice during the year, as some families do either out of necessity or by choice, is not acceptable in our case. As I have many times before, I thanked God for having daughters-in-law who recognize the precious and rare quality that our sons have in their relationships, and how easily and quickly it can be lost by neglect or by tragedy. Frequently the girls have made a sacrifice of personal time with their husbands in order to let the men get together and become brothers all aver again.
Being married 40 years has made us develop an appreciation and a devotion to one another that we didn’t know in our earlier years. It goes beyond the notion of “romance,” although it is totally romantic. What does that mean?
It means that sometimes I ride in the golf cart with him just because he likes for me to, even though I am totally bored with the activity (I’d rather be writing), but it’s a chance for me to see him doing something he enjoys and makes him “show off” for me. For the same reason, I get a chuckle out of taking a picture of my man on his riding lawn mower (after he has finished with the push mower), grinning and waving at me. (This is the same man who has never done “yard work” until the past few years.)
It means that we go to the gym together and do our strength training with a personal trainer. We see her as young and cute and she sees us as old(er) and cute! We recently were invited to her 40th surprise birthday party, along with her young(er) friends!
It means that he gets a haircut, and if I fail to realize it, he makes a little comment about himself that tells me he wants me to notice, and it makes me giggle.
It means that he has started always shaving with a “real” razor instead of the electric one just because I like the way it makes his face feel.
It means that most of the time, we run errands together, because…well, just because. Things like going to the grocery store. However, there are times that he stops by to pick up a few things for me and frequently comes home with a surprise… usually a bunch of fresh flowers! If I don’t notice the surprise, I can always tell something is up by the satisfied little smile he tries to hide.
It means that we love to get up early in the mornings, sharing our quiet time with the Lord first, and then our coffee with each other while sitting on our patio.
It means that we never, ever take for granted the precious moments that we have with our sons, their wives, or our grandchildren.
It also means that on some days, when we realize that nobody is at home besides us, we say,” We have the house all to ourselves!” Then we smile at each other with 40 years of understanding between us.