In my mind's eye I can still see it...
A small crystal plaque that sat on one of the corner cabinets in grandparents' living room on which these words were inscribed:
"Only one life will soon be past; only what's done for Christ will last".
And why am I thinking of those words this morning?
Between January 30 and May 16 of this year, I will have participated in FIVE special events. Three down; two to go.
And I truly enjoy each and every one of those events.
This would be a good thing - since the words, Special Event Planner are often next to my name.
And why do I do this?
Is it because it's a way to supplement my Social Security? Am I hoping to "meet someone"? Shouldn't I just be enjoying retirement? Or do I JUST like being busy?
Yes on the Social Security and yes I like doing something that has a purpose.
But the bottom line is that when I was in the 9th grade I heard what a youth pastor whose name was Ted Place was saying and when he asked who wanted to surrender their lives to full time service to Christ, I stood up.
A few years ago when I was complaining about some of the difficulty I was enduring another minister asked me a question.
"Didn't you sign up?"
My quizzical response was met with "You know, like Isaiah".
I remembered the Old Testament prophet's words: "Here I am, send me". And I remembered that day so many years ago when I stood up.
Somewhere deep within my spirit is a desire to do something meaningful with my life. - to make a difference - to put into practice those words that I remember from my grandparents' shelf.
Only one life will soon by past; Only what's done for Christ will last".
The teen aged Paula thought that meant going to France as a missionary. Paula as a college student thought it meant marrying a minister. As a mother of three it meant teaching them to love and serve God. And now as a grandmother on the minus side of 70?
I still like those words on the shelf.
I also like these that are found in The Message (a translation of Scripture)
Make the most of each day! Whatever turns up, grab it and do it. And heartily"(Ecclesiastes 9:10)
And that my friend, is why I do what I do.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
The shepherd came home
Vacation Bible School, 1955. I was 8 years old. My great aunt, Lila Newton was the storyteller for the Primary Department and every day for two weeks she stood at a flannelgraph board, dressed as a shepherd and taught us about the Twenty-third Psalm. I guess that is when my love for shepherds was born. It was also at about that time that my love for words was developing and even then, although I didn't understand the word, I understood the concept of a simile.
Through the years I have appreciated Dorothy Thupp's words set to William Bradbury's music in the hymn, "Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us" and I am pretty sure it's because I remember the way Aunt Lila taught me "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..." (Psalm 23:1).
Many years later as I was looking for a Christmas 2008 gift for my daddy, my mother reminded me that he loved the 23rd Psalm and suggested a gift that would be an icon - something he could look at and find contentment. We knew that daddy's health was waning.
I found a statue of a shepherd, fashioned to look like Jesus - at least the way most artists have represented Him - with a staff, a sheep and one small lamb.
At that time, daddy was still up and about right much, so the shepherd was placed in our living room on a table next to a recliner where he spent a lot of time. Over time, the shepherd followed daddy to a bedside table and it was on that table when daddy died in September 2009.
I have recalled that afternoon and remembered how special it was when the Rev. Kevin Pound personalized the 23rd Psalm with words like "we know that you are Earl's shepherd; that you have prepared a table for Earl...". etc. I firmly believe that on that afternoon when my daddy died, he knew he was going to meet the Shepherd.
The replica of the shepherd was placed on a shelf in my mothers' room and I'm sure it gave her some comfort.
However, in September of 2013, my friend, John Gates, was diagnosed with Leukemia and I asked my mother if I could loan him daddy's shepherd.
"Actually," my mother said, "that shepherd should be yours".
John also loved the 23rd Psalm and he gratefully agreed to borrow it. I hoped it would bring him peace and contentment as he went through Chemotherapy.
When I visited, I often saw the shepherd.
I hoped there would be the time that he no longer needed it. I hoped the Chemotherapy would be successful. I hoped he would be coming home.
He did. For a while. And then the time came that no amount of any medical treatment was going to help and in January he lost his valiant battle and I lost a dear friend.
Last week as I visited with his wife, Diane, she handed me a bag. It held the shepherd.
And now, once more that shepherd is on a table in my living room.
Just waiting until someone else might need it.
http://www.hymnary.org/text/savior_like_a_shepherd_lead_us
Through the years I have appreciated Dorothy Thupp's words set to William Bradbury's music in the hymn, "Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us" and I am pretty sure it's because I remember the way Aunt Lila taught me "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..." (Psalm 23:1).
Many years later as I was looking for a Christmas 2008 gift for my daddy, my mother reminded me that he loved the 23rd Psalm and suggested a gift that would be an icon - something he could look at and find contentment. We knew that daddy's health was waning.
I found a statue of a shepherd, fashioned to look like Jesus - at least the way most artists have represented Him - with a staff, a sheep and one small lamb.
At that time, daddy was still up and about right much, so the shepherd was placed in our living room on a table next to a recliner where he spent a lot of time. Over time, the shepherd followed daddy to a bedside table and it was on that table when daddy died in September 2009.
I have recalled that afternoon and remembered how special it was when the Rev. Kevin Pound personalized the 23rd Psalm with words like "we know that you are Earl's shepherd; that you have prepared a table for Earl...". etc. I firmly believe that on that afternoon when my daddy died, he knew he was going to meet the Shepherd.
The replica of the shepherd was placed on a shelf in my mothers' room and I'm sure it gave her some comfort.
However, in September of 2013, my friend, John Gates, was diagnosed with Leukemia and I asked my mother if I could loan him daddy's shepherd.
"Actually," my mother said, "that shepherd should be yours".
John also loved the 23rd Psalm and he gratefully agreed to borrow it. I hoped it would bring him peace and contentment as he went through Chemotherapy.
When I visited, I often saw the shepherd.
I hoped there would be the time that he no longer needed it. I hoped the Chemotherapy would be successful. I hoped he would be coming home.
He did. For a while. And then the time came that no amount of any medical treatment was going to help and in January he lost his valiant battle and I lost a dear friend.
Last week as I visited with his wife, Diane, she handed me a bag. It held the shepherd.
And now, once more that shepherd is on a table in my living room.
Just waiting until someone else might need it.
http://www.hymnary.org/text/savior_like_a_shepherd_lead_us
Friday, February 13, 2015
".. no sweetheart"
I heard this week that the average amount of money spent on valentine's gifts for one's significant other is $140
I also heard that men spend all of their allotted valentine's gift money on their wife or sweetheart while women purchase valentines and gifts for many more.
That would explain the gifts and cards I have for my mother, my children and grandchildren and a myriad of my friends (note - if you did not receive a personal Valentine present from me it's because my $140 could only go so far. And no, I didn't really spend 140 bucks -- nor have I ever nor do I think any one ever spent that on me.)
I just happen to like Valentines Day.
And I have incredible family and friends who I love and who love me.
Not to mention. . .
Almost 50 years ago I saw an early childhood Sunday School presentation A piece of poster board was the background for a large red heart with a small flap in the center. Behind the flap was a little mirror.
The words - "Look inside and see - Who does Jesus love?" surrounded the heart.
I knew that to be true then and I still believe it.
Which might makes my next words a bit of a paradox..
I don't really like it that I am not expecting to receive OR to give any special gifts of love. And truth be told, that makes me a bit sad.
I do have wonderful memories of Valentine's gifts - from husbands and an occasional sweetheart. But I think you could most easily descirbe me today in this little favorite verse that my father oft repeated...
"Cold hands warm heart, dirty feet, no sweetheart."
Kind of a silly little grouping of words iisn't it?. What in the world do you think it means.
Well just in case you are wondering, I not only wash my feet every day; I have regular pedicures - I mean - one never knows what lies ahead.
Saturday, February 7, 2015
And the wisdom to know the difference
I am really persnickety.
That means I have a tendency to place too much emphasis on trivial or minor details and I can be "way fussy". There are also more colorful ways to describe me. . .I'll leave that to your own devices.
I plan way in advance - just ask my children.
I give much attention to detail - just ask the people I work with.
And I really do like things "just so".
For example, my closet, my desk, my garage...
I have no idea why but I seem to think my closet should look as pretty as my bedroom and my garage should not only be organized but have an inviting atmosphere.
Some of my friends think I must have entirely too much time on my hands.
That's far from true - especially between November and May when I am diligently working on five major events in addition to pastoral care visits, times with my friends and family.
Another friend told me I like to have what I can control - under control ...because as we all know - life is far from under any control.
And so it is that on occasion I'll spend some time getting my personal space (the closet, the kitchen cabinets, the shelves in the garage) ORGANIZED.
Such was the case in January.
Time to put the Christmas decorations in their spot and start moving the winter decorations (New Year's, Valentine's, St. Patrick's Day) into a place that was easy to reach.
Which is where the title for my thoughts today comes from.
There once was an advertisement about some sort of headache relief and the woman snapped at her mother with these words "I'd rather do it myself".
Yep. That's me.
I was determined to put all those boxes on the shelves...and not ask for help. One, two, three boxes - hum - this was easy and then a couple more and then...
A huge box...and the space I had left was on the top shelf.
Oh, I could do that, I thought. All I had to do was move a table over - use the table for the landing and I could hoist the box right up into its special space.
Fortunately before I tried that there was a little voice that said - why do you have that nice neighbor, the man who works out every night - who can probably lift that container with one hand. I listened to that still small voice. I waited for my neighbor. The boxes are all in their place.
It doesn't always happen. But it's still a good goal!
That means I have a tendency to place too much emphasis on trivial or minor details and I can be "way fussy". There are also more colorful ways to describe me. . .I'll leave that to your own devices.
I plan way in advance - just ask my children.
I give much attention to detail - just ask the people I work with.
And I really do like things "just so".
For example, my closet, my desk, my garage...
I have no idea why but I seem to think my closet should look as pretty as my bedroom and my garage should not only be organized but have an inviting atmosphere.
Some of my friends think I must have entirely too much time on my hands.
That's far from true - especially between November and May when I am diligently working on five major events in addition to pastoral care visits, times with my friends and family.
Another friend told me I like to have what I can control - under control ...because as we all know - life is far from under any control.
And so it is that on occasion I'll spend some time getting my personal space (the closet, the kitchen cabinets, the shelves in the garage) ORGANIZED.
Such was the case in January.
Time to put the Christmas decorations in their spot and start moving the winter decorations (New Year's, Valentine's, St. Patrick's Day) into a place that was easy to reach.
Which is where the title for my thoughts today comes from.
There once was an advertisement about some sort of headache relief and the woman snapped at her mother with these words "I'd rather do it myself".
Yep. That's me.
I was determined to put all those boxes on the shelves...and not ask for help. One, two, three boxes - hum - this was easy and then a couple more and then...
A huge box...and the space I had left was on the top shelf.
Oh, I could do that, I thought. All I had to do was move a table over - use the table for the landing and I could hoist the box right up into its special space.
Fortunately before I tried that there was a little voice that said - why do you have that nice neighbor, the man who works out every night - who can probably lift that container with one hand. I listened to that still small voice. I waited for my neighbor. The boxes are all in their place.
It doesn't always happen. But it's still a good goal!
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