Home-Maker

The man on the other end of the line asked me what I do. After all the years, all the teaching, all the preaching, all the encouragement given by me to others, I answered, "Nothing. I'm a homemaker."

Implied in his question was, "What is your job?" -- as in profession, as in "making money" occupation. So I was not totally incorrect in my answer. But I immediately felt the need to rectify the implication of my sitting around on the couch watching TV and eating bonbons. I was a bit undone.

I contemplated and wondered. Did he hear the further, more subtle implication? I am a home-maker. I make a home. That is what I do.

I am currently spending some time with dear friends in Secaucus, NJ. They open their home for hospitality. She has made a home. It is not just a house with bedrooms and a snackbar. It is a home. They eat together at a dining room table. They spend time visiting with one another in the living room. They convene at day's end to discuss joint adventures or share individual experiences.

I make a home at 1942. I endeavor to create an atmosphere of safety, health, and creativity where nurture and care are expressed. Now granted, there are some seasons when the home front looks better and functions more efficiently than others. But all the same, it has been and continues to be my God-given task.

The words spoken this morning -- "I am a homemaker" -- echo in my mind and now in my heart, reminding me once again of the need to intentionally make homes. This is not a second rate occupation; it cannot be happenstance. It will not automatically occur with the signing of every lease or mortgage. It must be purposed and planned. It requires energy, time, effort, dedication, and commitment.

Home. Ah, yes. I love home. I love making home.

So here I am. Reminded. And I'm turning my heart toward home once again.

Signs of the Times

My first grandchild was born eight years ago.

My firstborn will be thirty next month.

I'm officially "senior" status in many establishments.

My baby boy is almost twelve.

I've been teaching at CFA for twenty-six (or is it 27) years. (Wonder what kind of retirement that guarantees.)

My parents need my help these days. It used to be the other way around.

My singing is becoming "over the hill" singing. I think most of you know what that means. ;)

My favorite verse today? Because I'm still expectant, still looking ahead, still hope-filled, I will wait on the Lord.

"But those who wait on the Lord Shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40.31

I'm learning that there is nothing I want to do more than serve Him. I've given my life to that with absolutely no regrets aside from wishing I had done it more faithfully. I'm still discovering, day by day, that there is nothing in this whole wide world more deserving of my love and passion and dedication than Jesus Christ.

A sign of the times? "It is well with my soul."

February's Grace

I feel a need to write a tribute to February. It has such a bad name, gets such a bum rap. We are longing to leave winter and coldness and deep white behind. But for all our aching, we won't find spring in this month. Winter is still very present. Therefore, February has little inherent charm apart from a lovely pink and red holiday smack in the middle.

It is true that folks have endured a lot of winter by the time we reach mid-February on the calendar. Our senses long for that smell of spring in the air, a glimpse of green poking through the white, the sound of the robin's song.

The thing about February is this: one morning we wake to spring in the air as the sun beams warmth and snow disappears by the hour. Windows are flung open, rooms aired out, and people imagine wearing shorts and running shoes tomorrow.

But tomorrow morning arrives; the thermometer has dropped a full 45 degrees, the ground is hard, clouds fill the horizon, the snow returns. And hearts fail as hopes are crushed.

Endure such taunting more than just a few times and you learn to hold February's promises loosely. More accurately, you learn that it was not a promise for tomorrow, only a reminder that change is coming; spring is indeed on its way.

I like February. It reminds me that seasons DO change. It challenges me to endure with expectation intact, to hold onto truth in lieu of disappointment in false hopes.

"Dig deep and hold on," I hear myself saying. "Remember that winter will end, and God will usher in new life."

February cannot be avoided. In fact, I think February is needed. At least, it is needed by me. I grow in February. I find Him.

I dig a bit deeper.

Sotheby's Anyone?

Wishing there was an auction tomorrow. Such fun just to see nice things. And more fun to, every now and then, buy nice things.

So let me qualify.

Wishing there was a nice auction tomorrow. You know, with genuine antiques, beautiful heirlooms, silver and brass candelabras, original oil paintings, Windsor and Chippendale chairs, and blue and white china pieces.

That's all. Because I really enjoy pretty things. And old pretty things especially so!

Spring Will Come Without Fail

A dear friend recently pointed out a simple truth. He said that we know one thing about seasons -- they all come to an end.

Winter drags on at times. What makes it bearable when the snow revisits in March? Simple: we KNOW that spring will come -- real, true, lasting, warming spring.

If you are experiencing a less than pleasant season in life, take solace. You can be assured of this one thing; change will come. The season will end. A new one will come.

I like that. I've always been glad for change, but never as much as when things aren't my favorite. Right about then change is most welcome. But I leave the changing in His hands. He seems to know the end from the beginning, and that's a whole lot more than anyone else knows. So I'll let Him order my days, change my seasons, and plan my destiny.

And in the meantime, I look forward to spring -- in every way.

Older and Simpler Than Ever

I am finding in my experience, although singular it may be, that the longer I live, the more difficulties I encounter. Actually, this experience has been confirmed by many others as well. And while I'm at it, the Bible promises this very thing as well. We will face trials, troubles, and sorrows.

I am also finding in my experience as a Christian that the longer I live and the more difficulties I encounter, the more His love is discovered; more of His grace is drawn upon and His faithfulness has now become my anchor.

Once upon a time, in younger years, I had more energy for overcoming obstacles, more strength to persevere through storms, more pliability to withstand the winds. But I have spent it all; I'm used up, expired, done. I am left with nothing. Which, it seems, is the perfect way to discover more of Him.

So, I will begin calling this season -- this long, difficult season -- discovery season. He continues to be found. And from what I understand, I've only just begun to know Him.

My God is amazing. Forever amazing.

Facing Giants

I've heard about this movie, had access to it for a couple years, but never got around to watching it. Tonight, Merrick asked me to view it with him. Rick watched it with him last night.

Believe it or not, we both got teary. Maybe it's because we are emotionally tender right now, but I was so happy to see God glorified in a film, so glad to be reminded that He shows His faithfulness in so many ways all the time. I remembered the many answered prayers and kindnesses shown to me in my life.

And I wept. I remembered, too, the hardships we endure. But remembered, too, that seasons come and seasons go.

And I smiled knowing that He alone is worthy of my life, my love, and my trust.