Romance as old as time. . .

Once again, unexpected treasures, copyrights 1938 to 1944……

More treasures from our journey through Mom’s belongings. Notice that two of the above are romance novels. The paper is yellowed and the print is small, and I didn’t try to read each of them. A brief flipping through of pages revealed that fiction does indeed follow life. The struggles of women are not new. The battle to hold marriages together is not new. And hopefully the patriotism expressed in the middle book is not new, nor is it dead.

We learned a lot about Mom’s life as a teen and young adult as we struggled to sort what to keep, what to send to the historical museum, and what to discard. We learned that writing materials were scarce and treasured. She had a bit of a diary recorded in a tiny little notebook advertising Federal Fertilizer.

She and my aunt were beauties and had a multitude of suitors, evidenced by the letters from servicemen, the dates at the “Cotton Club,” and the difficulties of making and keeping dates with no telephones and no automobiles. We read of her first encounter with my dad. She sounded young and under impressed. He “stood her up several times” and she was pretty irritated. She then mentioned that his dad was in the hospital. I suspect that was when my grandpa had the stroke that left him paralyzed and aphasic (unable to speak).

You wonder where I am going with this. I guess we all have memories of those early romances, misunderstandings, and broken hearts. We have the excuse of youth and the resistance to all advice offered by the older generation. But I want to redirect to a different romance–God’s wooing of us. Because isn’t that the greatest, most perfect romance of all?

I wouldn’t sacrifice one of my children for anyone or any cause. Would you? But He gave his only and perfect Son so that I might have a relationship with him. He loved me (and you) so much that He devised this perfect plan to woo us into a personal relationship with our Creator, Savior, and the Holy Spirit who dwells within us.

And here’s what I came to say–I watched a Charles Stanley re-run this morning. He was my mother’s “pastor” when she became physically unable to attend live church (years before her death). And he was teaching about seeking God. And seeking God diligently. And it hit me–I don’t think I’m seeking anything diligently right now. Not a closer relationship with God. Not a true understanding of what he wants me to do with the remainder of my life. Not the writing which had been such a part of me.

I’ve been so distracted. Some physical ailments (hopefully, prayerfully partially “fixed” by recent surgery). But also work to be done and bills to be paid and worry and depression and anxiety and, of course, COVID. But now I see, Lord, that it’s You missing in my life. And it’s my fault. You haven’t deserted me, I have retreated into too much of this world and failed to seek your face–in a diligent, devoted and disciplined fashion.

Forgive me. And help me. I have this little prayer I often pray:

Soften my heart. Sharpen my mind. Strengthen my body.

But I want to add, “Speak to me Lord.” Tell me, show me, that marvelous plan you have in mind, for everything good comes from You and I know You love me and I love You. And give me the diligence, devotion, and discipline to persevere.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.

Jeremiah 29:11-13 (NKJV)

The journey continues. . .

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This is the way my morning begins–on good days. The Bible is only 21 years old this year but the leather cover is frayed from being carried in a “Bible cover” for many years. Virtually every page in it is highlighted and marked with sermon notes in the margins. It is well-worn. Kind of like me.

Having reached that point in life where one reviews where one has been, the things one has done, the accomplishments achieved, I have found myself struggling over the past few months. Have you ever felt that there was something that you were absolutely meant to do through some divine plan but found apparent roadblocks at every turn? That’s me!

My first calling to a profession came when, through a series of unusual events, I ended up in a baccalaureate nursing program. I graduated in 1978 and have spent the past 40 years working in the profession in one role or another. There were some times of turmoil and transition as I found my way to my current role as a nurse practitioner. I stepped into that role 21 years ago and have never regretted the move. Throughout it all, nursing has been very good to me. And I’m not quite ready to give it up, yet!

But hidden in my heart was the dream of being an author. I’ll confess, early on I was just thinking that I could write a romance novel as good as, if not better, than many I read. But somehow I just couldn’t bring myself to put that steamy stuff on paper with my name attached! Then the amorphous dream congealed into a path that truly felt like a calling. That’s the road my journey has taken me down now. But it’s a road filled with roadblocks and potholes and breakdowns.

You see, I have found my niche as a writer.But actually having the faith that success will come is a struggle. I long to rest in Jeremiah 29:11–

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

My goal as a writer? To portray the truth that God pursues us in the ultimate love story, our journey through the triumphs and tragedies of life, wooing us back into a walk with Him whenever we lose our way. Sometimes when times are really good, I forget to acknowledge that all good things come from Him, not just from my efforts. And, sometimes, when terrible pain or loss occurs, the mental and physical and spiritual exhaustion has left me floundering, trying to regain my footing on the solid foundation of faith that this life requires.

For some reason, God has given me stories in my head and heart. Stories that speak to the real problems that everyday people experience. Stories that speak to the only real solution to those problems, a return to faith. But the struggle to be traditionally published, to market the work already done, and to have the resources to continue this journey often gets me down.

A couple of the devotions I read during my early morning quiet times recently spoke to me in a special way. One spoke to the issue of being a “recovering” perfectionist. I qualify. So often I am stalled by the search for perfection, when I just need to be writing and doing. I’m working on that. My house is not as clean as I kept it 20 years ago. I can say “no” when asked to do something that I just don’t have time for. I don’t struggle with my appearance like I did when I was younger.

The other was titled “The Day I Stopped Believing.” It spoke of a time that the author had experienced terrible life struggles and began feeling that, although God answered prayer for other people, He just didn’t hear or heed hers. I haven’t stopped believing in prayer or in good things happening. But the patience to wait for God’s timing is wearing thin. My dad told me many times that I needed to “learn patience.” I’m not there, yet, Daddy.

For those who have read all the way to the end of these ramblings, thank you! For me, it is easier to write than talk it out. Maybe a reader or two can relate to my struggles. Hang in there. As my boss says, “Tie a knot and hang on!”

 

 

 

 

Words set free…..

In the eye of the storm…………

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We know a lot about storms where I live. Judsonia, Arkansas was “blown away”, as we locals describe it, on March 21, 1952. I was not quite 2 years old at the time and living in Indiana, so I obviously have no personal recollection of the tornado. However, the family I married into lived through and lost their eldest son in the process. They are all indelibly marked by this event.

Judsonia is a town of underground storm shelters and “safe rooms”. I recently was blessed to hear Ryan Stevenson’s rendition of the Christian praise song, “Eye of the Storm”. It made me think about how life is a passage of “weathering” various storms. What storm have you been through? What storm are you going through? Are you surviving? Is the storm defeating you? What is the answer to weathering the storm victoriously? The answer to a “life storm” cannot be found in a storm shelter or safe room or retreat from life. Stevenson sings it to us in the lyrics of the above mentioned recording. I highly recommend it.

I began to think about the various storms I have survived. Divorce. Miscarriage. Loss of a son to suicide. Completing nursing degrees (Bachelor’s and Master’s) while supporting and caring for children as a single parent. Career choices and challenges and confrontations. Financial issues. Physical ailments. Depression. Caring for elderly parents. Estrangement from siblings, some resolved and some not. A child suffering from alcohol addiction and mental illness (she is surviving, thank God). Sharing the pain of the patients I help care for as they are confronted with life-changing health events and, for some, the ultimate passage, death. Experiencing the ups and downs of life in a church family made up of believers who still have human qualities–no, congregational life is not always united and sublime. I have worried about these all of things, and, often, tried to “fix” things within my own capabilities, generally unsucessfully.

Because I do not have all the answers. God does. And, in my humanity, I forget to yield to his solutions, thinking arrogantly that I could do it better? Really?

What storms are you facing? Depression? Anxiety? Addiction (in all its forms–alcohol, illicit drugs, prescription drugs, nicotine)? Maybe it’s an eating disorder–obesity, bulemia, anorexia. Perhaps you have been tormented by thoughts of suicide.

Perhaps you and your family have been challenged by war–a family member serving in the military as we speak. Or perhaps one lost to you forever in war’s vicious violence. Or perhaps one disfigured, maimed, angry, traumatized, suicidal because of the horrors witnessed.

Maybe your family is dysfunctional. Maybe you have been the victim of abuse. Maybe you are raising grandchildren or great-grandchildren because their parents cannot parent. Maybe you are a victim of domestic violence.

You might be just overwhelmed by the multiplicity of stressors you are experiencing daily. For some, like me, that might mean relegating your creativity and dreams and self-expression to some deep, dark place, (your “storm shelter”) where they have waited, dusty and neglected, longing to be once more brought into the light.

Perhaps burned-out describes your work performance. Perhaps cynical describes your outlook. Perhaps for you the glass is always half-empty, never half-full, and you do realize it falls on you to wash that darn glass. Perhaps you have let the fire of your faith burn down to cold ashes and do not know how to rekindle it.

Step 1: Listen to Stevenson’s song. It has a really nice beat, folks! It will lift your spirits and refresh your soul.

Step 2: Get out the Good Book (you, know, the Holy Bible) and take a look. Some of my faves: Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:7     And Jesus’s words: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.” John 14:1      So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.  Isaiah 41: 10    “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:14     And, finally, Psalm 46:10a: “Be still and know that I am God.”     (All from NIV) The Bible is a treasure chest full of guidance, peace, comfort, encouragement, courage.

Step 3: Open the window of your heart to let God’s peace come in. Open your ears to hear His whisper of hope and encouragement. Open your voice in thanksgiving and praise. And open your very self to a life of faithful perseverance, not in your strength, but in His. Open your mind to the thought that you can fulfill God’s calling and plan for your life, even through the storms.

That’s what I’ve chosen to do, by setting my words free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Out of the fog…………….

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Sometimes my mind is like this fog. Details are fuzzy. Focus is absent. Clarity of thought seems impossible. Thoughts weigh heavy and gray in the corridors of my mind. It may be disappointment or worry, grief or exhaustion,  frustration or anger, depression or distraction that renders my mind temporarily incapable of orderly, logical action. On mornings like that I just long to retreat from the responsibilities which await me. To my mind and body it seems that the best course of action would be to crawl back between the covers, burrowing down into that warm little world that I just left behind, feeling the comfort of my husband’s presence beside me, and just refusing to show up for the day’s activities. But, on most days………

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the fog gradually begins to disperse as the sun’s rays break through. I need the light to illuminate my mind and warm my heart, but how? It cannot come from my determination, for that is weak. Nor from my physical strength, for I feel I have none. The will to persevere comes only from God’s grace and the ultimate light that shines forth from His love.  I try to encourage myself to open to that light, to lean on His loving arms as they lift me up, to yield to His gentle prodding as He encourages me to carry on the work of this life. And, at last………..

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the day breaks forth in my soul, bright and clear. The blue sky is reflected in the pond as the gentle wind turns the windmill, which offers a lesson within itself. The head of the windmill turns, you know, seeking the strongest breeze. And, when it finds that stream of air, it stops in place as the wind turns the blades to create power for the pump which oxygenates the water. What if we kept our hearts and minds in constant search of the strongest stream of God’s spirit, constantly adjusting our vision and attitude and attention to seek His will for the day? And, what if, as we located the power surge of God’s spirit, we paused and let its refreshing, rejuvenating, energizing, inspiring force flow through us to bring light and love to the world around us? What would this world be like then?

Lord, grant me the grace and strength to lean on you and to seek your power this day.

New beginnings………………

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Well, hello again, blog friends. You might say I’ve treated friends with little consideration to be so long absent from the blogosphere. I’ve thought of many excuses: a demanding fulltime job, the distraction and time demands of self-publishing a novel, trying to make some effort to be a good wife-mother-daughter-grandmother. All reasonable and true, but not really valid reasons to neglect this part of my writer life!

My contrition was stimulated in part by a devotional thought this July 1 from my trustworthy book pictured above. That day’s thoughts were all about perseverance. Remembering all the times I have prayed for the strength to persevere, my heart was convicted that blogging is a test of that ability. Oh, yes, there are other important areas in which it is important to persevere–one’s faith, family relationships (even when somewhat dysfunctional), the continuous learning required in one’s profession, cultivating friendships–to name a few. But the commitment to contribute to my little corner of the digital world should not be taken lightly. I began this adventure with selfish motives–to build a platform and get my book published. With the decision to self-publish (a process which is well underway and responsible for many of the afore-mentioned distractions and demands), platform slipped on the totem pole of priorities. The past few days I have been bothered by the nagging truth that blogging and the discipline necessary to this form of self-expression is an important measure of my ability to persevere.

“Because perseverance is so difficult, even when supported by the grace of God, from that is the value of new beginnings. For new beginnings are the life of perseverance.” Edward B. Pusey

Therefore, I am embarking on a NEW BEGINNING do not labor under the misapprehension that this will be my last new beginning, for I am sure that sooner or later I will lapse, as is the truth associated with all resolutions, New Year or otherwise. However, I pledge to do my best to do better. So, I was gratified to read a few lines later:

“Be patient with everyone, but above all with yourself. I mean, do not be disturbed because of your imperfections, and always rise up bravely from a fall. I am glad that you daily make a new beginning. There is no better means of progress in the spiritual life than to be continually beginning afresh, and never to think that we have done enough.”
Francis de Sales

I have indeed not done enough, but what an opportunity for improvement! I wonder how many of you might have experienced similar lapses. I hope you recognized and corrected yours more promptly than I have mine! I thank you for your understanding and forgiveness……………