Our Shepherd of Love

It is the fourth Sunday of Advent.  We light the candle of LOVE.

     I was writing this when I took a break to pick up lunch for my colleague, Gretchen and me.  The saying on the bag was about - LOVE.

 Timely.

     One of my Advent disciplines has been a daily reading from The Wonder of Advent, Experiencing the Love and Glory of the Christmas Season by Chris Tiegreen.

     The Scripture reference for December 23 is Luke 2:8  "That night there were shepherds n the fields nearby guarding their flocks of sheep." 

     "Of course,  there were shepherds in the fields", said Tiegreen at the beginning of his devotional.  Shepherds were ALWAYS in the field. Where else would they be?  That's where the sheep were.  And sheep are not that smart.  They need someone to care for them - day and night.

     Have you seen a job description for a shepherd?  Only one requirement

     "Know your sheep".

     I was in the fourth grade when the theme for Vacation Bible School was "Jesus is our Shepherd".  I remember that my great aunt, Lila Newton, dressed as a shepherd and taught us the 23rd Psalm, Isaiah 53 and John 10.  "The Lord is my shepherd"; "All we like sheep have gone astray. . ."; and "I know my sheep and my sheep know my voice".  (Psalm 23;1; Isaiah 53:6 and John 10:14).  She taught us that shepherds were known to be people who did their job.   They care about their sheep.

     I'll always remember with love the afternoon Rev. Kevin Pound personalized the 23rd Psalm when our daddy was dying "You are Earl's shepherd," his pastor repeated.  Daddy did not respond - he didn't have to.  We knew that he knew that to be true.

     Yep.  Shepherds are a good thing.  Even poet Christina Rosetti knew that when she wrote: "if I were a shepherd, I would give a lamb".  Shepherds are caring.

     That's why we have a group at our church who are the shepherds of different groups of our congregation. They care; they share; they love!

     And that Baby whose birth we are celebrating - loved - and more He is love!

So although I think Carrabba's food is delicious, I must disagree with the words on the bag.

     There is no love more sincere than that of our Shepherd of Love!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

 to make you appreciate the shadows

Count it all JOY

 It's guest blogger week.  My daughter, Renee, and one of her ministry partners, Todd Villemont, put together an Advent Devotional for the children and parents they serve at the First Baptist Church of Naples, Florida.  I asked Renee if I could share it.

Christmas of 1995 was full of joy for me because it was the year that Wally Blain asked me to marry him!  JOY!  In the fall of 1999 and the summer of 2002, I felt a joy that I had never felt before as I celebrated the news that I was going to be a mommy!   JOY!  In the fall of 2006, I felt a fear I’ve never experienced when we learned our youngest had been diagnosed with a life-altering illness.  FEAR!  Yet in the midst of that, we were challenged to still find JOY!  How could that be possible?

Mary and Joseph offer an amazing example of finding JOY in the midst of circumstances that could seem fearful or uncertain.  Mary, a young Jewish girl steeped in tradition, was engaged to be married to Joseph.  JOY!  What an exciting time for both of them.  Enter an angel with the news of a baby- news that should bring JOY but most likely initially brought some FEAR!  

“Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way.   When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. “(Matthew 2:18)

In the midst of celebrating an engagement, they now have news of a baby.  And a baby before a wedding would promise to bring a lot of questions in Mary and Joseph’s life!  So, Joseph came up with a plan. BUT, because God is sovereign, an angel delivered different news to Joseph that encouraged him not to be afraid, but to understand that this was ALL a part of God’s perfect plan! (Matthew 2:19-21)

As the angel delivered this news to Joseph, he was sure to let him know that Jesus was to be called Immanuel- which means, “God with us.”  This news is what turns Joseph’s fear into JOY!  Because, he has the assurance that NO MATTER WHAT CIRCUMSTANCES COME THEIR WAY- GOD IS WITH THEM!.

This is how we can find JOY in the midst of fearful and uncertain circumstances.  This advent season, allow yourself to be reminded of the promise that when Jesus came to earth, He became GOD WITH US.  No matter what we face- HE WILL ALWAYS BE WITH US!

I have been a part of those times of JOY and FEAR as Renee and Wally walked through them.  I was reminded of a sermon that one of our dear friends, Rev. Jimmy Wilburn, preached many years ago.  He referenced James 1:2,3 “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.” and since that time when my family and I have been faced with trials I have endeavored to remember to 

Count it All Joy!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Shalom

"Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me..."

Easy to sing.  Not so easy to practice.

Especially during the hustle and bustle of Advent and the Christmas Season.

I read of a woman who was so obsessed with her holiday decorations that her husband accused her of being a "holiday hoarder".  Not much peace in that relationship.

And who among us has not experienced the Christmas Eve nightmare of putting a toy together - you know 100 easy pieces?  And how about the traffic  .... haven't you had an experience when you wanted to just give someone a piece of your mind.

Oops - wrong use of the synonym. Besides I'm talking about the word SHALOM - the expression used in ancient days when the goal is to offer encouragement and love.

One of my favorite parts of liturgical worship is the passing of the peace.  It signifies warmth and welcome.

I also love it when the words from Philippians 4:7 are used in a pastoral benediction "And the peace of God which passes all understanding shall  keep your heart and minds through Christ Jesus."

It was wartime (1863) and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had lost his second wife and his son had been badly crippled as he fought as a Union soldier.  Christmas Day was not a happy one for the poet and he penned the words to "Christmas Bells".  This stanza is an expression of the grief he must have been experiencing.

"And in despair, I bowed my head; "There is no peace on earth," I said;

"For hate is strong, And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

And yet somewhere from deep within his spirit, he drew these words:

"Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men."*

I have friends and loved ones who are feeling a little like the great poet must have felt.  Some are in trouble financially, some are unhappy in their marriage and some are going to lose a child or a parent soon (without a miracle). Not really easy to be at peace.

One of those friends has a quick answer to my question - How are you?  "Thankful".  She knows peace - and it shows.  I think it might begin with her.  I hope I can catch it!

Shalom.

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

*The information about the writing of I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day is from Wikipedia.

The Candle of Hope

"I had about given up hope".  

"Oh, I hope we win"

"What are you hoping for - a boy or a girl?"

How many times do we hear the word HOPE used? Webster defines it as cherish a desire with anticipation.  Sometimes it means to trust.  It's an important word in Scripture, appearing more than 100 times.  I have a couple favorites.


Jeremiah 29:11
 For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for   welfare and not  for evil, to give you a future and a  hope.

I Peter 1:3
 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!
 According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again
 to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the   dead.

Christmas, 1982  - We were new to the role of single-parent family and I was having a very difficult time with planning and financing Christmas.  

I had no idea that two of my children wanted bicycles.  But in Sunday School a few weeks before Renee who was eight and her five-year-old brother, Tray answered the question when their teacher asked for prayer requests.

It was for bicycles.  They were hoping for bicycles. In our family, we prayed about everything.

You can imagine my surprise, two days before Christmas,  when their Sunday School teacher and her husband arrived at our door - with two bicycles.

Please don't misunderstand, me I don't think every prayer is answered so easily.  I have always been glad however that m children understood the value of praying for all things - believing - or in this case HOPING.

There have been many times in my life when I felt like there was no hope.  There were times that I came close to giving up hope.  But I recently heard these words:

  "Hope begins when you stand in the dark looking out at the light"

So I light one candle on the Advent Wreath and watch the flame flicker.  

That's really what the candle of hope is about   I can only TRUST that what I hope for will come to past.  That must have been how Mary and Joseph felt.  What a scary time.  And yet, they followed what they believed to be was God's Will for their lives.  I really hope I will always do that.

Ann Nesmith Beardslee - 4/3/29; Elizabeth Nesmith Weitzel - 6/14/37
Iva Nesmith Huffingham - 3/12/23; Carolyn Nesmith Capp - 7/12/27
not picture - Thelma Nesmith Wakeman - 8/5/25 - 11/5/11

And speaking of HOPING -- I think all of my Mercer-Nesmith cousins HOPE we look like this when we have passed our 80th birthday.  We have a great legacy of hope that is passed through them from our Grandparents - Ellie and Pauline Mercer Nesmith.  One of the things Granddaddy wanted us to practice is the faith, hope and love of that baby born to Mary more than 2,000 years ago.

He is HOPE!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Grandma's blue bowl

"He knoweth the way that I take and when He hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold" (Job 23:10)

I thought it had belonged to my Grandma Nesmith.

Well, actually it did belong to my Grandma Nesmith.

What I didn't remember was that she got it from her mother, Marianna Michau Mercer and she got it from her mother, Mary Elizabeth Cook  Michau.

Until recently, I just thought it was Grandma's blue bowl.  I knew it had survived a fire at my parents' home in 1977 and then I was reminded it also survived a fire in South Carolina many years ago.

It was on a shelf in my parents home until my mother moved away -- and she thought I should have it so it now resides with me.  That means I am the fifth generation owner.

It has a lot of character, don't you think?

It's blue, but do you see the gold trim.  Look carefully.

And do you see that the pedestal is broken?

Fortunately, it still stands.

Somehow that bowl is a picture of life...my life to be exact.

There have been times when I felt wobbly - like part of me was broken.

There are times when I feel blue.

And yet. . .

It is a reminder to me of these words:

Words that were given to me on my 70th birthday by my lifelong friend and cousin, Bonnie Smith Allen (we share Great Grandma Mercer and thus Great, Great Grandma Michau).  We know that our grandmothers (hers - Florence and mine,  Pauline) were great women....and we appreciate that part of our heritage. And let me be quick to acknowledge - lots of women - great women - join us - my aunts, their aunts and cousins.  The list could go on an on! And somewhere in that family history is that one of our ancestors swam the English channel ( I think that's right - it's a part of the LORE that we have all heard).

So what happens to the bowl next?  It stays on my shelf until I am gone and then the two great women who call me mom (Becca and Renee) can determine whose shelf on which it gets to stand.  And then one of their daughters will inherit it.  Unlike a family recipe that many can share, there is sadly but one bowl.

In the meantime, it is a constant reminder to me of our heritage...of the hard times and good, the laughter and tears, and the fact that all of us know -- when He hath tried me, we shall come forth as gold!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

A Cornucopia of Emotions

This is my little cornucopia.  It is far different from the beautiful one of my childhood.  My Grandma Nesmith had been a florist and she had a real knack for arranging flowers - and at Thanksgiving - fruits and vegetables.

I have always loved November.

I love the change of colors in our surroundings.  I know I live in Florida and there are not that many changes, but I love driving toward San Marco and enjoying the vibrant color of the golden rain trees.

I like the food that we enjoy - especially the combination of cranberries and turkey,

I enjoy the celebration of Veteran's Day.  If my daddy instilled anything in us more than his love for the Florida Gators it was his love for our country.  He didn't think he needed to install a love for God or our mother.  He just expected that to be a part of who we are!

And I absolutely love the fact that I became a mother in November.  First on November 26, 1971, when Rebecca Lynn was born.  I knew from the first time I held her that she would be Becca.  I brought her home from the hospital and she became my sounding board.  Poor baby - the things she heard from her mother's lips.

Three years after that I heard the words "what's your first child?" And when I answered a little girl, the doctor said: "And now you have two".  And what a  joy that second little girl, Paula Renee, (11/17/74) has always been.  Her ears have also heard much from me.

Those girls (Becca and Renee) come from a long line of great women - some we remember especially in November.  As it would happen, Becca was born on my Grandma Nesmith's birthday.  She would have been 70 that day, had she not gone to Heaven just a few months prior.  Another great woman was born in November. Amanda Gentry (11/11/01), was the mother of Margeret Parker who was my first mother in law - She was a great woman - who raised a good son.

Four of my dearest friends, Linda Peppers Gurganious, Laurie Lemminn, Kathy McAlpin and Virginia Jeffries Pillsbury celebrate their birthdays in November. Each of these women have been a blessing in my life.

So those are happy emotions.

There is also a very scary one.  Tray was 2 and a half when he was impatient to get the hot chocolate that I foolishly put in a paper cup and told him to wait...The burns on his little leg were horrible.  And as we drove to the hospital he and I were both so scared.  I remember him saying "sing, momma" and he would try to sing "Jesus Loves Me" and the theme song to McDonald's  "Nobody can do it..".
That was 38 Thanksgivings ago.  Today he has a very small scar (or that's what he's told me).  But it's certainly included in my cornucopia of emotions.

And then there' s sad one.

It was a lovely November day.  A mid-afternoon phone call from my husband, Rich, indicated that he didn't feel well.  Two hours later I heard an emergency room physician tell me that my husband "did not survive".  We had been married 8 months and 4 days.  I was devastated.  We were planning a great life of joy and happiness together and he was dead just 10 days shy of his 49th birthday.

That was 19 years ago.

Happy Thanksgivings and painful ones.  Even the one that includes the passing of Margaret Parker when my children and I went to tell her goodbye.  That day included my parents and some other family members enjoying a turkey breast in a park in Georgia as we traveled to North Carolina on Thanksgiving Day.

The important thing remains - that love for God that my parents assumed we would inherit is still a part of who I am.

I hope that never changes.

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

No bless your hearts

"He needs a constant."

Those were my words when my son, Tray, was a pre-teen.  I think you could also say those words were my prayer. A bit of a selfish prayer I think.  Because what I was really praying for was to have a man in my life.

It was about that time that I became friends with a lovely young woman named Kathy McCalpin.  We were both in a singles organization.  Kathy loved to laugh and shared her daughter, Amanda, with my children and me.  We enjoyed doing things together.

And Kathy was crazy about Tray - she laughed at everything he said and always told our other friends how cute and adorable my youngest child was.

And suddenly it dawned on me.  Kathy could be the fluff in Tray's life, and I was the constant.  I was the one who made sure he did his homework, brushed his teeth, was nice to his sisters.  When I felt like I had to be strict, Kathy didn't have to.

Both of us were necessary.

I recently told my daughter Renee about a time in my life that I have remembered with sadness.

Tray was playing in Little League ALL STAR baseball game.  His sisters and I had been to all the games..  Their dad lives in another state and it was very rare for him to be at a game. (Please note - I'm not trying to throw anyone under the bus - it's just a fact).

However, this particular game was the exception.

Our team was losing by one run.  Tray was up, got on base and was credited for an RBI when one of his teammates tied the score.  And then he stole second and probably third (he was "bad" about that).  Another base hit - and Tray crossed the plate.

Our team won the game.

And Tray came off the field with these words "Where's my dad?"  I was appalled.  I had been sitting in the stands watching him play ball all summer.  And he wanted to see his dad?

Renee had no "bless your hearts" for me.

" Mom," she said, "Tray knew you would be there.  You were always there."

Hum-I was the constant.

I love it when my children teach me something  (most of the time).

I don't think I ever to ask the Lord to make me the constant in my children's lives as we embarked upon our time as a single parent family.  However, as I look back, I am grateful that I could fill that role.

And I've been reminded of the fact that I have a constant in my life as well.  I remember a song from youth group - "Yesterday, Today, Forever, Jesus is the same;  All may change, but Jesus never Jesus is the same" (Hebrews 13:8).

I'll never try to convince anyone that I was a perfect parent (or that I will ever achieve that status). What I am convinced of is that I know first of all - that God my Heavenly Father is the perfect parent and that He is my constant.

Which makes me think that I can hear my grandma Nesmith Singing - Constantly Abiding.

I love memories!

Gnarled branches in a tree

The doorbell rang and a neighbor invited me to come out to the street.

She had been walking her dog, looked up and saw this:

One more result of Hurricane Irma.

It seems the aftermath continues.

It's hard to see in a photo taken by a phone but one limb is split and hanging by what looks like splinters.  At least that's how it looks from the ground.  The leaves around it are dead.  When it drops it's going to be a mess.

"You need to call someone", the neighbor said.  "It's going to fall and hit the corner of your house."

The only thing is - this tree is not in my yard.  Therefore at this time, it is not my responsibility. Until those branches that are holding on by a thread come crashing down.

I overreacted (surprise, surprise)

I did what I always do ... I called my son.  He's slammed with work "People whose houses are already damaged - not those who might have an issue."

And then I prayed (I know why didn't I do that first?).

And the answer came - I was reminded that the tree is not in my yard.  It is not my responsibility.  I should not do anything -- except tell my neighbor - the one whose front yard boasts that pretty tree. 

I've been trying not to be a "tend to it",  but sometimes I have no choice.  So, I showed the gnarled limb to my neighbor who was very appreciative as she said: "I'll call my tree man".

One of these days I might learn just to let things happen without getting myself into a panic.

"Be still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10).

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Locked gates

      As Hurricane Irma approached and preparations were being made, I knew that one of the first things to close would be Walter Jones Historical Park where the Mandarin Museum is.  My task was to notify those volunteers who would be serving on September 9 and tell them not to report for duty on that Saturday.

     As we began to hunker down, I heard that the City of Jacksonville was going to send workers to board the windows on the historic St. Joseph's Mission Schoolhouse for African American Children.

     And I knew that the gate to the park would be locked.

     The storm came.  Leaves, limbs and some trees fell to the ground inside the park.  It was not a pretty sight.  There was no power.  The gates remained locked. The Museum would not open on September 16.

     On Monday, September 18, Gabrielle Dempsey, the Facilities Chair on the Museum Board, assessed the situation.  The representative from the City said it should be cleared for us to go in and complete the cleanup by Thursday.  We have a big day planned for the 23rd.

     I sent a message to our volunteers.  We would have a work day on Thursday.  We arrived.  The gate was still locked.  so another message went out.

     We came back on Friday and the gate was still locked.

     We were a bit distressed.  It looked okay.

     But what could we not see?

     Maybe snakes, maybe limbs that would be the culprit causing a fall, maybe dirty water that had made its way up from the river.

     Surely there was a reason - even when we couldn't see it.

     I remembered 25 years ago when my parents were about to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.  My Aunt Carolyn had an apartment adjacent to the dining room in our home.  My mother always just walked in without knocking.

     One day as she did that, she was shooed away. There seemed to be a party going on. She could not imagine.  Her feelings were really hurt.

     Until the day of their anniversary arrived.  My mother opened Aunt Carolyn's gift - a beautiful quilt with nine names embroidered (hers and daddy's; the four of us and our children.  Dan and Meg had not yet been born). My aunt and her friends obviously had something to "hide".

     Sometimes it's good not to know what's behind a locked door - or fence.

     Earlier today (9/22) we learned that the gate would be open on Saturday and we should proceed with "Smithsonian Museum Day Live" when all of our park's buildings will be open, the Maple Leaf divers will be aboard, the World War I Exhibit and many pieces of art that was done by Mandarin artisans available for the public to enjoy.  All this at no charge to our guests.  Of course, the frogman will be around - and there will be frogs and turtles for sale.   

     I will not be the one who checks for snakes.  It is my job to get the volunteers!

" For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known," (I Corinthians 13:12).

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Aunt Thelma at the piano

Hurricane Irma approaches Florida.  My South Florida children are evacuating today.  My aunt Beth who lives at Crescent Beach will be on the way to Georgia soon and I'm bringing my mother to stay with me for a couple of days.  Lots of preparation is the order of the day.

Early this morning as I began to make my own preparations, I was reminded of one of my mother's childhood memories - something she often shared with us.

Mother's family lived in an old farm house that had been built in 1888.  My grandparents purchased it sometime in the 1930's.  From that time until my parents sold it in 1996, it held many memories for our family.

For a long time, we have affectionately called it the Big House.  And one thing that we all appreciated was the sound of the rain on the tin roof.

The sound of the rain was one thing.  Storms that were accompanied by flashes of lightning and the sound of thunder did not bring that same sense of peace.

Terror might be a better word.

At least to my mother's sister, Thelma.

"Every time there was a storm, we could find  Thelma sitting at the piano playing hymns", mother has said.

My guess is that all five sisters and their older brother joined in.

I thought of that this morning as the news of Hurricane Irma pelted any electronic device imaginable from television to radio to Facebook and Twitter.  Not to mention - every conversation was about it.

While I may not be terrified today, I have been remembering some words from Scripture and some of the songs of my childhood.  "With Christ in the Vessel, we can smile at the storm"; (composer unknown)  and "Till the storm passes over, till the thunder sounds no more; Till the clouds roll forever from the sky, Hold me fast, let me stand in the hollow of Thy hand Keep me safe till the storm passes by" (Mosey Lister).

And the words from Scripture:

And he (Jesus) arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be  still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm."  Mark 4:39

What this says to me is that although we are so unsure of the weather (just as we are often unsure of the path of our lives), there can still be peace in the midst of the storm.  I don't have a piano.  I do have Pandora.  And you can be sure I'm listening and singing those same songs that Aunt Thelma played!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Did I forget?

I make a big deal out of anniversaries.

One passed recently, and I ignored it.

Well, that's because it really wasn't an anniversary.  Ray Parker and I married on Saturday, August 5, 1967.  Correct - we would have just had our 50th had the marriage survived.

Of course, it did not.

Fortunately, the friendship did.

And more than that the three children who were born from our union and their children are my absolute heart's delight.

They have taught me so much - that I really don't want to forget.

Raymond Lee Parker, III was born on August 10, 1977.  That means he just turned 40.  When I recognized his birthday on Facebook, I said that he has brought much joy and opportunities to trust the Lord

Did I mean he was a difficult child to raise?  No more difficult than any little boy who was raised in an all female household.  Fortunately, there were uncles, cousins and most of all a granddaddy who helped.

But here's why it was an opportunity to trust the Lord.

My girls were born within a few hours of our arrival at the hospital.  My recovery was rapid.  I expected that with my third child.  However, after 12 hours of labor, when his heart rate began to slow down, a decision was made.  A C-Section was performed.

I woke up to a thick bandage across my abdomen and heard  "We have a little boy."

And then I heard -"there are some issues.  They have taken him to pediatric intensive care."

Oh, my.

And then a nurse told me - you have an infection.  You can't leave your bed.

Four days later because of the circumstances, I finally went to see my little boy.

It was very strange.

I felt like I was just looking at a nursery full of little babies.  I felt no emotion.

Back in my bed, I tried to pray,  It seemed my prayers were bouncing off the ceiling.

I slept.

I dreamt.

An angel came - and said it's okay to love him - if you lose him - God will give you the grace to bear it.

The next time I saw my baby I could not stop the tears.

There were many times in his infancy and as a toddler that trips to the hospital were required. He was very sick as a kindergartener.  There was always something.

I love to journal.  Had I been a journaler when Tray was born, I'd have written of the fear I felt on August 14 and the joy I felt on the very next day.  When I journaled about his 40th birthday my words expressed my gratitude - he not only survived he thrived.  And continues to.

And about ignoring that anniversary (at least on Facebook).

A friend reminded me recently that when there is the disappointment, it's good to see the positive.  I couldn't see any positive when my marriage ended.  Even though I knew lots of scripture, I could claim.  It still seemed like such a disaster.

35 years later, I can see so much good that came from all that pain.

One example is that this week is the birthday of the little girl I call Effervescent.  She came to us (along with her brothers) by way of adoption.  The way I see it - if my children and I had not moved to Florida 35 year ago - then Becca would not have met and married Dale - and they would never have met these children who really needed a home.

What I really don't want to forget - to give God the glory for all that has happened in my life!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Untangled

I love my life.

I have a plethora of friends, children, and grandchildren I love, and they love me back and am blessed with the fact that our 94-year-old mother is still with us.  I have two places that give me the opportunity to meet and enjoy people - and pay me for that. I enjoy facilitating a women's Bible study and playing games with some widows and widowers once a month.  Oh, and sometimes I get to serve communion in one of our worship services.

Everything is perfect,  right?


Most of the time.  But sometimes everything seems to get tangled up.


Hurricane Matthew took down three trees in my back yard. Once they were removed, I saw something that I thought was very ugly.


There were vines hanging from the remaining trees.  And they were all tangled up


"That's the way I feel," I told my daughter.  "I feel like everything in my life is just all tangled up."

This is clearly just a metaphor.  But somehow I kept thinking if those vines were removed I would be more at peace.

 "Little foxes spoil the vines." How many times has my mother said that to me?  What does it mean - even the smallest things add up to make something bigger - at least in our minds.

I talked with friends; I prayed; I read.  I looked for answers. Something was hindering me.  It wasn't one thing - it was a lot of little things.

I also told my brother-in-law, Robert, that the vines were really bothering me.  And I just knew that once those vines were pulled my life would also be "untangled.

A few days ago, Robert showed up at my home with ropes and a wench and a helper, the wonderful Jamaican man, Orlando, who through a friend from the museum has become what we affectionately call - "my yard man."   My grandma Nesmith always had one - so why not me?

And as for the tangled up feeling that I was experiencing. The talks, prayer, and rearranging of a few parts of my life have done the same thing for me personally that Robert and Orlando did for my back yard.

Unfortunately, and much to Orlando's disappointment, the grass we planted is not doing very well   Or well, maybe next year.  We'll have to keep working on it - just like I'll have to keep talking, reading and praying so that I don't get tangled up again.

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

When the cross gets too heavy

During the summer months, when many of the Church of Our Saviour acolytes are at camp (either as campers or workers), we are often short when it comes to planning for the worship services.  That being the case, some of us who are regular chalice bearers are called on carry torches or to be the 1st Crucifer, meaning the person who leads the procession and recession - carrying the cross.

So when my name showed up as the 1st Crucifer for the 8:00 service on Sunday, July 9, I thought - okay - no big deal.  I carry a cross on Sunday nights for the evening service.  I even carry it when the 8:00 service is on the Riverbank.

"I can do this".

Even though I was a bit apprehensive about my duties.

All was well.

Until I lifted the cross.  I stood it on the floor.  It was taller than me.

And heavy.

And I was going to have to hold it high and process - not just down the aisle toward the altar but up a step.

I made it - praying every step of the way.

Once we were in our seats, I turned to one of the torch bearers, a strapping young man of 16.

"Can we trade jobs?"

Fortunately, he agreed.  I carried his torch for the rest of the service - and was much more comfortable.

Later in the day as I reflected on this, I had some moments of sadness that I was not able to carry the cross.  But then I remembered that someone came along and helped Jesus carry His.

I also thought of the many friends I have had who have helped me when my cross got too heavy. The people who walked alongside me in my disappointment, grief, and fear.

And I hoped I would be that kind of friend as well.

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

"Remembering frames up gratitude"

Wondering why quotation marks frame the name of this post?

The words are not mine.  They are Ann Voscamp's.  However, they are some of those 'jump right off the page' words for me.  In the same chapter of Voscamp's, One Thousand Gifts Devotional, I read "Gratitude is not only the memories of our heart, gratitude is a memory of God's heart.”

I am plagued with memory.  Good and bad.  My mind goes back to something that happened - and I am either sad or glad.

Many years ago, I learned that it is important to give thanks in everything - to be grateful.

This is not always easy.  There have been difficult times. In 1977 a little boy was born and the circumstances around his birth and the first year of his life make me cringe all these years later.  And who could have imagined that I would be divorced before I was 36 - not to mention becoming a widow when I was 52.  Oh, and then, there's that granddaughter with a life altering illness, some career changes that were difficult.

I guess if I chose to I could find lots of situations that gave me cause for pause.

Other times have been absolutely delightful.  That little boy is all grown up, successful as a man, husband, and father.  His older sisters and he serve God in various ways.  I have six other grandchildren who I am crazy about and scores of friends.  And I have two earning opportunities that I enjoy.

All of this - good and bad - are a part of God's plan for me.  It is my firm belief that nothing happened to me except by design - God's design.

Do I seem like a Pollyanna?  That’s okay because I am a Pollyanna. I always believe it's going to work - that is after I fret and stew about it for a few hours, days, weeks and yes, sometimes months.

Some years ago, I began the practice of thanking God for little things - finding a parking place, my keys or cell phone, my way home on a dark and rainy night.  Hum, that might be a big thing.

I do not always enjoy memory.  Somehow it makes me appear to be living in the past when I say, "I remember when. . .".  However, I just read a G. K. Chesterton quote that encourages me:

"The greatest of poems is an inventory".  Voscamp calls that making a ledger of God’s love for her.

Life is "the good, the bad, the ugly".  The good memories, the bad memories and yes even those that make me think "how could I have ever done that?” all merge together – my past, my present, and yes, even my future.

So rather than say I am plagued with memory - I think my words should be I am blessed with memory.  I hope I never lose that!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

The Splattered Platter

"I think of you when I make fudge and place it on a platter;

 Remember when I served your fudge and how that plate did splatter."

For daddy - Father's Day 1982

It's a well-known fact in our circle of family and friends.  My daddy loved to make fudge and people raved about how good it was.

I'll always remember a Sunday afternoon when I was three.  We had company and daddy went into the kitchen and made a batch of fudge.  Little Miss Prisspot me thought I should be the one who served the candy. I insisted on carrying the glass plate into the living room where they were visiting.

To this day I can still hear the sound of the plate as it hit the floor and splattered into many pieces.

My Father's Day gift to daddy in 1982 was a poem.  It included the things in my life that made me thnk of him - buying crayons and toothpaste (items he thought I needed way too often) and the day my stubbornness was the cause of ruining not just a platter but a good batch of candy.

35 years later one word stands out  - that word is splatter.

Just a few weeks after I had written that Father's Day message, daddy and I sat on the swing on our family's back porch.

This time it was my heart that was splattered.

My children and I were moving to Florida.  It was a very strange and painful time. I had been convinced that I could fix what was broken.  I was shattered.  I had failed. I felt like that broken plate and ruined fudge was a metaphor of my life.

I don't remember daddy's reaction when I broke that plate as a three-year-old.  I just remember how I felt when it happened.  I do remember daddy's reaction that afternoon in the swing.  He just kept saying, "Everything's gonna be all right," encouraging me that I was going to survive.

A glass platter has to be replaced.  Fortunately, a broken spirit can be repaired. Love and friendship, financial assistances and much tender loving care was offered That and the faith that had been instilled in me as a child were the tools for survival.  And today I can look back over those 35 years and see not just survival but success.

You would think I learned my lesson.  Yet still, sometimes I am just sure that I have everything under control only to be met with one of those crash and burn experiences.  AND even though my daddy is no longer with us physically, I am always calmed and encouraged when I am sure I hear

"Everything's gonna be all right!"

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Flag Day 2017

This is my cousin, Reta Weitzel Gilmore, celebrating Flag Day in about 1966.  She said she thought the celebration was for her mother's birthday.  I have promised not to say how old her mother would have been that year because I do not want you to "do the math."

In my mind's eye, I can see a picture of her mother at my 3rd birthday.  Her mother would have been 13 that year.

Oh me, I 'm telling you more than she wants you to know.

Okay - let me tell you what I want you to know.

Pauline Elizabeth Nesmith Weitzel is my mother's youngest sister.  My mother is 14 years her senior, and there are three sisters between them.  My parents married when Aunt Beth was still a little girl and when Ellie Capp and I were born, she became what we now think of as our older sister.

This is Aunt Beth.
She has always "been there for me".
Through my growing up years - although she was away -marrying Uncle Bill when I was 10, when I came back to Jacksonville in 1982 - still away - I think she lived in Chicago then but would soon move to Oklahoma - to the last 15 or so years now living in Florida.  And as my mother ages, she is a great support!

When I am sad, she makes me laugh. When I am angry, she suggests the other side.  When I am unsure of myself, she restores  my confidence.
When she goes on a journey, she offers the use of her car. When I need to relax, she shares "her" beach. When I can't decide what to wear - she suggests an accessory.

My mother and I share a commonality.  We both got a sibling when we were 14 years of age.  And my sibling (Lester) and Aunt Beth share a commonality.  They both got a niece when they were 10.  I have since that time (45+ a few months later) felt that was a dear thing for Lester and Aunt Beth to share and I have believed that my Becca is blessed to have Lester for an uncle...

Just as I am blessed to have Pauline Elizabeth Nesmith Weitzel (and is that not the most charming name?) to be my aunt.  Happy Birthday,  PEN.

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Can't do a thing with my hair

Sue's hair

"Would you let me take a picture of the back of your hair?" 
I was surprised and complimented when my friend, Sue, wanted to show her hairdresser how she wanted her hair to look.

Paula's hair

Several weeks later, I was happy to see her new cut and perm.

I sometimes tease (sort of) and say I can always make it about me.

So you won't be surprised to read that this made me think about my hair. Do I need a hair cut earlier than I had planned?  Should I have colored my hair all those years ago when the silver started to show up ... and why isn't my hair as shiny as it used to be.

And then I wondered - am I vain about my hair?  It really didn't take a lot of wondering.  

Yes, I am.

Hum - maybe I should check out some scriptures.  There are many.   From the importance of long hair (I'm much too short for long hair) to the idea that it is disgraceful for a wife to go out without her head covered (since I am not a wife, that certainly does not apply) to the one that makes the most sense to me - about not letting the adorning of oneself  be what is important.  

UH - got me!

Or maybe the one I  like the LEAST:  "Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life" Proverbs 16:31.

I remember that add - "Hate that gray, wash it away" which I have never done. However, I'm not positive that there's any crown of glory, much less a righteous life, but I do think that is a goal worthy to strive for.

I am complimented that Sue wanted to copy my hair.  And one of the things her compliment did for me was make me aware that I should make an effort that my hair look nice all the time.

If my hair - so much more my whole person - and not just how I look but how I act.  All of these ponderings brought to mind a song from my teens - Let the beauty of Jesus be seen in me.  

A great goal!  

PS We are celebrating Sue's birthday this week -- Happy birthday,  to my favorite "Georgia Peach"!  

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows