Forget My Birthday

I turned 66 this year, March 25th to be precise. I generally don’t forget my own birthday, so I wondered why amazon.com sent me a reminder about it?  Did I ask to be reminded?  There are plenty of things I need reminders about–like where I put the car keys, my password on this and that, but not my birthday!

Each year I think a little more seriously about my age.   Our lifetime passes quickly as the writer of Psalm 90 points out.  For us to use these days properly, we need to develop a positive outlook on the passage of time.  By an inner work of the Holy Spirit, old age becomes a time to harvest our lives, to bless all that we have been through, the triumphs and the tragedies, the realized dreams, and the bitter disappointments, the acts of love, the shock of betrayal, and to convert these rich experiences to wisdom.  Wisdom that can be shared with families, friends, and communities.

I have heard it said that “Some people grow up in the Lord, others just grow old in the Lord.”  Unfortunately that is true.  There is a big difference between the two.  Growth and maturity require more than years of pew time; they require years of diligent learning, application, and obedience.

I should not fret about the wrinkles and lines that appear, for I know God has been good and faithful to me.  He has taken me through the hills, valleys, storms, and sunshine, year after year and yes, I will bless His name.  Life is not made up by our days turning to years.  Life is what we make it, the way we conduct our lives, day to day, year to year.  If we try to lead a life of holiness, following after God, then this far outweighs the feeling of aging.  It is the fleshly man that makes us look in the mirror and see the spots.  We should try to look through God’s eyes and see ourselves as He see us.  The flesh could be beautiful, and we might have a heart of stone.  But if the inside is soft and warm and inviting, then the outside should reflect the same.  We think wrinkles and falling hair are a sign of aging, but we are only growing up in God’s eyes.  He never thinks we are getting older, after all we are His children.

I have decided that I will relax and enjoy each birthday as it comes–regardless of the reminders I get from the mirror or amazon.com.

Prayer:  Dear Lord, help me to finish well and honor you until my dying day. I don’t want to grow old, God.  I don’t want any part of it. But since I have no power to stop the clock, my prayer is let me age with grace. Father, let wisdom flow from my mouth, let compassion flow from my heart, let acts of kindness flow from my arms, let faith flow from soul, let joy shine forth from my eyes.  Amen!

Faith’s Dynasty

by Vicki Huffman

In the U.S., September 11, 2011 is National Grandparents’ Day. It’s a good time to stop and pay tribute to our grandparents—or their memories.

As children we may have heard it said of ourselves, “You look just like your mother” or “you’re the spitting image of your father.” But some studies indicate that more physical and personality traits are passed directly from grandparent to grandchild than from parent to child.

We bend over a newborn’s crib and comment that the baby has his father’s hands or his mother’s eyes. It’s easier to see the physical characteristics that are passed down from parent to child than from grandparent to grandchild. That is partly because the grandparent’s features have been altered by age. If Grandfather’s hands were not gnarled and age-spotted
and Grandmother’s eyes were not crinkled and hidden behind glasses, we might recognize the resemblance more easily.

Family resemblances go much more than skin-deep. With few exceptions, most people’s lives are shaped by the families from which they come. Many of us are what we are today because as children we had at least one grandparent who took a special interest in us. (My maternal grandmother filled this role.) Grandparents were seldom too busy to read to us or take us on walks or play games with us. And there were serious times when they shared
their age-earned wisdom and values with us.

A famous sociological study done on the descendants of two American families included the offspring of the famous preacher JonathanEdwards. Edwards’ father was a minister and his mother was a clergyman’s daughter. Among Jonathan Edwards’ descendants were:  14 presidents of colleges; more than 100 college professors, more than 100 lawyers, 30 judges, 60 doctors, more than 100 clergymen, missionaries, and theology professors, and 60 authors.

The other study was done on the Max Jukes family. Their history was delved into in detail. It was said of them that they couldn’t be made to study and wouldn’t work. It was estimated that they cost the state of New York $1 million. Pauperism, crime, and insanity ran rampant in the family. Out of 1200 known Jukes descendants:  310 were professional paupers, 440 were physically wrecked by their own wickedness, 60 were habitual thieves, 130 were convicted criminals, 55 were victims of impurity, only 20 ever learned a trade (10 of them learned that trade in a state prison), and 7 were murderers.

The differences between these two families involved more than their genes. It involved their homes. The Edwards family’s godly influence and love of learning was reproduced in their children, who reproduced it in their children, and so on. The Jukes family’s attitudes were also passed down, whether they wanted them to be or not.

Personal faith can’t be inherited. It’s been rightly said that God has no grandchildren. We each come to Him as children. But a godly grandparent can be used by God to touch the heart of a grandchild. Paul wrote Timothy: “I have been reminded of your sincere faith, which fist lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also. For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God…”
(2 Tim. 1:5-6 NIV).

If you had a grandparent like Timothy’s who was faithful to help ignite a spark of spiritual interest in you, thank God for that grandparent. But even if you had grandparents who were not the examples they should have been, you can have a godly lineage—starting with you. You can be like Abraham, whose ancestors were idolaters but who believed God who
promised: “I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me
and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your
God and the God of your descendants after you: (Gen. 17:7).

Jonathan Edwards’s family became a dynasty of faithfulness. Your family can too.

Nana Nanny

I thought when I retired I would enjoy traveling, relaxing and doing things I couldn’t do while I was working. Instead, my days and nights are filled with unexpected interruptions.  Four years ago I elected to retire early and move in with my daughter and her husband. As managers in retail, their hours are erratic, never knowing what time they will be home.

In today’s society grandparents are needed to babysit, either full-time or part-time. I had many concerns regarding this major undertaking. Raising my own children had its many ups and downs.  I knew helping to raise my grandchildren was not going to be any different. Was I ready emotionally and physically to handle the job?

I prayed. God said, “Yes.”

My basic duties as nanny involve getting the children ready for school, picking them up after school, preparing their supper, and watching them until their parents come home. During the day I have a few hours to spend on myself, such as going to the YMCA. I take care of the house, wash clothes and buy groceries. In exchange I no longer have to worry about house payments or utility bills.

Since both parents work on the weekends, I have the privilege of taking my grandchildren to church. On the way to school, we pray for the family to have a blessed day. Hearing a four- year-old praying brings a smile to me and to God. I know this is one of the reasons God has me here.

One night when I was in the kitchen with my daughter, she said, “Mom, remember how Samara was having difficulty sleeping because of nightmares. The other day, Samara told me, ‘I am no longer afraid to go to sleep. I have Jesus in my heart.’”

I admit that my body is not youthful anymore. I remember when Samara was just a baby; I would change her diaper on the living room floor. When finished I would crawl to the couch in order to have leverage to get to a standing position.

Four- year-olds talk non-stop with no turn-off button.  “Nana, can I have a drink….Nana, I need to go to the bathroom….Nana, I’m hungry…” And how many times do I have to read Green Eggs and Ham?

Grandparents in the average scenario can spoil the grandchildren. When they have had enough, they can send the children home to their parents. If Samara and Javon have stretched my nerves to the limit, I am unable to retreat to my own home.  I am a full-time “nanny”. But then I remember I am here for a reason. With all its ups and downs, I am the stabilizing factor in my grandchildren’s lives.  It is a privilege to be able to invest in their upbringing.

Claudette Miller, a retired widow, enjoys investing in her grandchildren’s lives and freelance writing. She is author of A Moment in Time with God, a devotional published December 2010. www.amomentintimewithgod.webs.com

Passing the Baton of Faith

 

The house of the righteous contains great treasure (Proverbs 15:6 NIV).

What if your home burned down? Or all your possessions were stolen? What would you have to pass on?  Through Jesus—plenty.

In contrast to earthly treasure, an eternal inheritance impacts generation after generation. Even now, my parents, who taught me about Jesus at a young age, have helped build faith into my children and grandchildren and generations to come.

To pass on our faith, we must purpose to do so and be intentional about it. When I interviewed dozens of grandparents, they gave these examples of how they share their faith and help their grandchildren grow spiritually.

Model: “Grandchildren watch what you do and say. They can see that church and Sunday school are important to us. When we took care of them, we always read a Bible story to them when we put them to bed.” Grandpa Bill

Share: “I often share what Jesus has done for me and the difference He’s made in my life. I’m pretty spontaneous in sharing His blessings.” Grandma Donna

• Write: “I’m writing my life story with an emphasis on my relationship with Jesus.” Grandma Eva
• Read: “Read Bible stories, and let them know that Jesus is a very real person.”  Grandma Jeanne
• Take them to church: “When our first grandson was two, our children were not attending church regularly. We picked up our grandson and took him to Sunday School. After a while, he began asking his parents to take him, and they have.” Grandma Carole
• Teach: “We have devotions when the grandchildren are with us. Sometimes we gather around the piano and sing together.” Grandma Sylvia
• Apply to life: We relate our spiritual values to everyday situations. We don’t wait to talk about Jesus until we are praying or having a Bible lesson. We watch for everyday opportunities to bring the reality of Jesus into their lives. Grandma Shirley

The greatest gift we can give our children and grandchildren is a legacy of faith. With God’s help, let’s pass the baton of faith securely into the hands of future generations.

Prayer: Dear heavenly Father, thank You for keeping an inheritance for us in heaven that won’t perish, spoil, or fade. We want to lay up a rich inheritance for our children and grandchildren. Help us persevere, stand firm in our faith, and build a strong foundation for them to build on. May they see that our faith in Jesus is real and desire it as well.

Adapted from Preparing My Heart for Grandparenting by Lydia E. Harris. AMG Publishers, 2010,  www.PreparingMyHeart.net.

For All the Marbles

The expression that nature abhors a vacuum is especially true as we age: clutter, both material and mental, expands to fill our time and our lives. Those of us who are often in e-mail can attest to that as our boxes fill up frequently. A lot of stuff floating around the internet is the same old, same old, but occasionally something special comes along. Such is the story that I share with you. (No author’s name was attached—if you know you wrote it, please let us know and we’ll credit him.) What I especially enjoy about it is its universal application. It’s the advice of an older man to a younger, but its wisdom is applicable to women just as much as to men.

As I read it I thought of what Moses wrote long ago: “The length of our days is seventy years—or eighty, if we have the strength; yet their span is but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away. Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:10,12 NIV). This story helped remind me to number my days. Maybe it will do the same for you:

“The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it’s the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it’s the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.

A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the garage with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other.  What began as a typical Saturday morning turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it:

I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net.  Along the way, I came across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice. You know the kind; he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business.  He was telling whomever he was talking with something about “a thousand marbles.” I was intrigued and stopped to listen.

“Well, Tom,” the older man said, “it sure sounds like you’re busy with your job. I’m sure they pay you well but it’s a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work 60 or 70 hours a week to make ends meet.  It’s too bad you missed your daughter’s dance recital. Let me tell you something that has helped me keep my own priorities.”

That’s when he began to explain his theory of “a thousand marbles.” “You see,” he said. “I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic.  The average person lives about 75 years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about 75 years. Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3900, which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime. Now, stick with me, Tom, I’m getting to the important part.

“It took me until I was 55 years old to think about all this in any detail”, he went on, “and by that time I had lived through over 2800 Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived to be 75, I only had about 1000 of them left to enjoy.  So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round up 1000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside a large clear plastic container.”

“Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away. I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight.”

“Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure that if I make it until next Saturday, then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time.”

“It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on the band.  This is a 75 year-old man, K9NZQ, clear and going QRT, good morning!”

You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work on the next club newsletter. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss. “C’mon honey. I’m taking you to breakfast.”

“What brought this on?” she asked with a smile. “Oh, nothing special, it’s just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together. And hey, can we stop at a toy store while we’re out? I need to buy some marbles.”

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What Do You Want to Be When the Kids Grow Up?

When I was younger with small children, my husband occasionally came home from work to me bombarding him with talk. Once he said to me, “Talk to adults much?” and laughed.

I said, “No! And that’s the problem.”

I was not amused.

My husband learned that there were times I needed to unload. And he needed to listen and not tell me how to fix it.

Everyone says that children grow up too soon. And it’s true. You turn around and they’re gone. Not gone to the ends of the earth (usually) but irrevocably gone to jobs and homes and families of their own. Then, according to surveys we fill out about who lives in our home, we are childless.

“Empty nest” is one of the few completely descriptive terms in the English language. If the home you raised your children in was the right kind of home, it was like a nest:  a place of provision and protection. The children were sheltered under your wings and kept secure until they were old enough to move on. Human mothers often resist this phase, but in nature not so much. The mother eagle sometimes pushes the eaglets out of the nest to teach them to fly. They learn quickly as they’re falling. And she swoops under them and catches them if they’re slow learners.

Whether our eaglets fall, glide, or soar out of our nests, eventually our nests become “empty.” That too is descriptive: not just of the amount of unoccupied space in our homes but of the feeling we can have: the empty feeling that our family is gone. Unfortunately, we sometimes translate that feeling into the idea that our usefulness is gone. The freedom that many women think they will enjoy with an empty nest isn’t realized because they are too wrapped up in what used to be to enjoy what currently is.

If that feeling is indulged, instead of enjoying the freedom to do new things, a woman finds she doesn’t know what to do. Some make a serious mistake at this point by infringing on their children’s freedom with too many phone calls, letters, unsolicited advice or visits.

From ancient times up until the early part of the 20^th century, women had many children. Because people had shorter life spans, often before the youngest child was raised to adulthood, the mother (by then in her 50s) died. Gradually family size became much smaller, and childrearing was finished earlier, often in a woman’s 40s. At the same time life spans increased: women began living into their 70s.

Women were faced with a question: What will you do with the next approximately 30 years of life when you are no longer raising a family?

Those who have the most problems with their empty nests are often those who weren’t prepared to face those years. They considered their occupation and calling to be a stay-at-home mother. Then their job grew up and left them. It was an empty nest indeed!

When this happens, women often feel as unemployed as if they’d received a pink slip from a corporation. Only worse! People can go out and get another job. Rarely do women decide to or are physically able to start having more babies to replenish their family.

So I’ll ask you the question I asked myself many years ago: what do you want to be (not when you grow up but) when your kids grow up? I’m not urging you to have a second career plan to fall back on; I’m urging you to think about how to wisely fill the years the Lord gives you after your childrearing duties are over.

Having an empty nest returns you to the identity you had B.C. (before children). You are more than just your husband’s wife and your children’s mother.  You are your heavenly Father’s daughter, and that doesn’t change. He has plans for you even in the later years of your life. His will for you might include a career in the workplace or in a ministry or increased volunteer work in your church. It could mean honing a creative skill or talent you only dabbled at before. But it should also include growing closer to God and becoming a mature example of His grace.

Moses lived to be 120, but the last 40 years (the last third of his lifetime) were the productive years. During those years he followed God and led the children of Israel (often wayward children) out of bondage in Egypt. A line in one of the two psalms he wrote could also be the prayer of every woman who faces a changing life season. In Psalm 90:12 (NIV), Moses prayed: “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

My prayer for all whose nests are empty is that your hearts may be full — full of godly wisdom.

And We Laughed As Silly Kids Will Do

Patti M. Hummel

It’s Summer Time and the living is easy… Great lyrics to a song most of us recognize, but have times changed so much since they were penned by Ira and George Gershwin and their fellow writer DuBose Heyward in 1935?  Oh, yes, they have!

Even when I was a child the lyrics held more truth than it does today. Most days, nothing about summer time seems particularly easy. The rush and complication of most summer days keeps us so busy and overloaded with running around to meet the demands of the day that there is nothing about them that is easy!

When the last day of school landed my six siblings and me on the bus ride home we had no grandiose thoughts of vacations or activities that had to be scheduled weeks in advance in order to not interrupt our parent’s schedule. We were going home from the last day of school for the summer! That was it. Now, that did not mean that we would be sitting around  bored for three months (which was actually three months back then).  The difference meant that we would not be going to school and that our list of chores increased drastically.

Summer time meant that we helped to do the laundry in a ringer washing machine that adorned the back porch and we hung it on long clothes lines supported in the center with tree branches.  What fun it was to rush to bring the laundry in when a summer storm blew in from somewhere. And we laughed as silly kids will do.

Often Daddy would take a few of us with him when he walked to the pond to fish with poles made from branches. It was not easy to sit that still, but Daddy insisted that if we moved the fish would not bite. So we obeyed and sat waiting for something larger than a minnow to tug on our lines. We had no coolers so when meal time came we gathered our fishing poles and walked through the cow pasture back to our little house laughing as silly kids will do when one of us happened upon a cow patty before realizing it and got our shoes coated with the dark goo.

Vacation Bible School was the only big summer event in our lives and perhaps a revival that lasted from Sunday to Saturday and everyone in the neighborhood attended. I was saved in VBS so my heart is especially tender toward the continuation of that special week each summer. The commencement program was the most exciting thing I had ever witnessed. I loved being a part of those programs sharing with the audience what we had learned that week. Walking up to receive our certificate for attending and being bragged on by our teachers and the VBS Director (always the mother of one of our friends and our own mother a few times) brought such happiness that we laughed as silly kids will do.

In the late summer Daddy and Mother would have us cover our bodies as much as we could and we would walk single file through the woods… Daddy in the lead, Mother at the end with the seven of us keeping step in the middle much like an army of ants. All the while Daddy would be looking up in the trees. Finally he would stop and tell us to spread the sheets we brought with us all over the ground. He would climb a tree and begin to shake it vigorously causing muscadines to fall and bounce all over the sheets. We were there to make certain that none were lost. Walking home with our bounty brought memories of the yummy muscadine hull pies and the jelly Mother would make with the load we had and we laughed like silly kids will do.

On Saturday afternoons Mother and Daddy would gather us to take a ride to the creek just past the old bridge. Many from our church and community would be there. The water was cold and refreshing on those long hot South Carolina days. We played until the little ones fell asleep and until it was almost too dark to see. Then we went home to be hosed off before we got ready for bed and we laughed like silly kids will do.

There was some free time as we waited for the garden to produce its fruit, so we were creative in our play. We had to be because there was no stack of toys, no videos, no magazines, and not any of the items kids today demand. We drew houses on the ground and drew furniture in them that we had seen in the Sears Catalog. We made our houses as grand as we possibly could. And, we insisted that our siblings enter through the doors and not the walls. We spent hours in our houses. We made crowns form leaves and thorns, and necklaces and bracelets from woven grasses. We transformed ourselves into rich princesses, and we laughed as silly kids will do.

Summer time meant that we would be helping in the garden and when we picked a tomato the birds had already been eating on, we would throw it as far as we could watching it smash and scatter, and we laughed as silly kids will do.

We helped to wash the vegetables and cut them so that mother could can some and freeze others. We learned to cut out our own clothes and learned to sew… often after taking our crooked stitches out several times before the garment was right. Trying on half finished dresses inside-out with only part of a hem in place made us laugh as silly kids will do.

Other activities are equally as memorable: catching fireflies, making toad stools in the wet sand, counting stars, searching the clouds for figures and items of interest, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drinking Kool aid (the drink of choice) almost daily for lunch, waiting for the mailman who actually spoke to us and delivered 3 cent stamps, looking forward to the delivery of the Grit paper, eating the first harvest from our garden, sitting outside at night with neighbors talking about what a great summer we were all having… and we laughed as silly kids will do.

In Ecclesiastes 3 we are reminded that there is a time for everything. Verse 8 ends with, “…and a time of peace.” I wonder if your summer will end with a time of peace. If not, perhaps we all need to find those things that make us laugh as silly kids will do.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:  A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;  A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;  A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 KJV