The 25 Year Picnic

 

People often say, "Marriage is no picnic." I disagree.  Picnic describes marriage perfectly.

I'm a fan of picnics.  If it isn't cold or windy, I'll pack a basket, find a nice spot, throw a blanket on the ground, and enjoy the experience.  Several decades ago,  I found a handsome, kind , and very patient man.  On May 13, 1989, a picnic basket given as a wedding gift was packed with reception food, including slices of delicious chocolate grooms cake and POUND CAKE wedding cake, and sent with us to Florida.  We're still on the picnic.

What do you love about picnics?  Do you like a quiet, romantic picnic? That's important.  A picnic won't last long without the sweet "only two of us" time.  Sometimes we invite friends and family.  They lighten the load, bring food, laughter, and an extra set of eyes and ears for the challenges that come with EVERY picnic.  

Here's a word association.  I say picnic, you say?  Ants? No matter how sunny, how wonderful, how perfect the picnic, there will be ants.  Tiny ants disguised as bundles of joy briefly distract us from the picnic.  Before you can say, "we have the ants under control," every minute of and every conversation about the picnic centers around them.  More time consuming ants, with four wheels or with a front porch, join the picnic, and our words go from the sweet "isn't this a blessed picnic?" to the realistic "when's the next payday?"

 

At least it's still sunny.  We're comfortable and have plans for the perfect picnic, but the forecast isn't always reliable.  Rain, more annoying than the ants, isn't what we had in mind, so we're frustrated and irritable.  Luckily, we remember our umbrella of love, patience, and forgiveness.  However, the rain develops into a storm, and we're sick, sad, afraid, and exhausted.  But, a group that cares about US invites us to their shelter, encourages us, and shares their stormy picnic stories.

 

We deal with the ever present, not-going-anywhere ants and weather the every-picnic-has-one storm.  Blue sky and sunshine, so we continue our picnic, but what happened? The bread is stale.  The soda is flat. The cookies are crumbled.  We've had enough of this picnic. It's time for a different location and fresher basket.  We're tempted to ignore the DO NOT PICNIC IN THIS AREA sign, thinking no creature will invade the picnic.  It's then we sense a strong cord, pulling us back, reminding us of the good, happy picnic we've enjoyed all along.

 

Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help.  But someone who falls alone is in real trouble. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10NLT

 

A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back to back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken.  Ecclesiastes 4:12NLT

 

Solomon, an Israelite, knew three was the number for completeness and realized there's strength in numbers.  Some teach this cord as the Holy Spirit; in fact, some ministers include the three-fold cord in wedding ceremonies as symbolic of husband, wife, and God.  Even if Solomon didn't have marriage in mind, it is fitting. 

 

I've been on a picnic with David for 25 years.  Obviously, we survive on patience, forgiveness, respect, kindness and love. We lift each other up, and when we allow the Holy Spirit into our hearts, He strengthens and pulls us closer.  God sent a patient, kind and understanding man who has selflessly reached out to help me many times.

 

Solomon wrote of an attack.  But instead of defeat, the enemy is conquered by a triple-braided cord.  From the onset of our picnic, family, friends, and a particular group of people known as Concord Baptist Church have been part of our cord of protection and strength. Knowing the importance of the triple-braided cord, they ate cake, wished us Happily Ever After, fed us and our ants, loved us, encouraged us through the storms, and picnicked with us. They don't want our picnic to end.

 

Happy Anniversary,

 

Katy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hands

In honor of my beautiful mother, Sheila Davis King Brown 

 

The child eventually becomes the parent.  That's what we're told. That's what my sister and I experienced recently with both of our parents in the hospital within two months.  My mom, a breast cancer,  ovarian cancer, and stroke survivor,  was born with one kidney, and it's in stage 4 failure.  After developing sepsis from an infection, she spent one week in ICU.  We paced the floor, cried with my dad, prayed with family and friends, talked to nurses and doctors, and slept in the waiting room.  Actually, since the hospital leaves the lights on in the waiting room all night, I only slept there one night. My sister endured the lights- on-all-night for six nights. Our comfort during this time came by family, friends, and church members bringing snacks, offering words of encouragement and holding our hands. 

But what about my mother? She was critical, on a ventilator, and sedated for several days, so she couldn't experience the comfort and fellowship from friends and family.  She needed to be comforted, so while she was still sedated, I decided it was my duty to hold her hand and comfort her.  My mom has the softest hands of anyone I've known.  They're also covered in freckles, like mine.  While she was sedated,  I picked up her hand and held it, but holding her hand didn't work as I planned; instead,  something strange happened.  Her hand held mine. She comforted me.  I felt this peace I hadn't felt since she was admitted. I'm many decades past childhood, but she's still my mother, and I'm her little girl forever.  The same soft, warm hand that held me as a baby,  felt my forehead for fever, brushed my hair, and dried my tears brought comfort to me from an ICU bed.

She spent another week in a regular hospital room where there was only one chair, occupied by dad most of the time.   Mothers know their children, and she knew I was tired from working, so when I visited her, she asked me to crawl in bed with her.  I didn't dare say NO. To the surprise of the night nurse, we watched a football game curled up in her hospital bed.  Susi did the same at the rehabilitation hospital.

Grown don't mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What's that supposed to mean? In my heart it don't mean a thing. Toni Morrison - "Beloved" 1987

See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are continually before Me.  Isaiah 49:16 NKJV

My sister cooks and cleans for my parents and makes sure they take their medicine and remember their doctor appointments.  I'm their once a week yard man.  But, as much as I like to think otherwise, my mom does more for me than I do for her.  I will never out love her.  Mothers never give up on their children. We're inscribed on their hands. They're always holding our hands.  Even as adults, we're always on their minds.  

I am inscribed in the palm of God's hands and continually on His mind. This brings me great comfort.  I may serve at church, attend bible study and talk about God's love and compassion, but no matter how much I think I know or how closely I walk with Him, He does more for me than I do for Him.  I am His child forever, always on His mind. His protection is forever around me.  I will never out love God.

While walking around busily working for God, deciding what you can do for Him, reach for His hand that is always there, and let Him comfort you. 

"I will comfort you there in Jerusalem, as a mother comforts her child." Isaiah 66:13 NLT

Happy Mother's Day,

Katy

Mom looking very healthy

 

 

 

April Showers

 

May, a pleasant month with warm sunny days, Mother's Day, prom, graduation, and flowers.  As a gardener, I look forward to May and roses, Dutch iris, daisies, and magnolia trees.  But before I enjoy these blooms, I watch the weather hoping for April showers. 

Whitten's Garden Center

An April shower is inconvenient if I have outside plans, but I don't think about that too much; instead,  I watch rain from the windows and picture what my thirsty flowers will look like after big drops of water beat down on their leaves.  After an April shower, I walk around my yard like a detective, searching for new life and blooms.  I actually do this until fall. If I visit a garden center early enough, I watch them water flowers, and I inspect the hanging baskets and flats of annuals like a mad scientist.

Eddie Rabbitt's I Love a Rainy Night sums up my feelings about rain.
           Showers wash
            All my cares away
            I wake up to a sunny day
            'Cause I love a rainy night
In the daytime, I watch the rain.  At night, I listen to it beating on the house and quickly move my ferns to the water.  The rain isn't comfortable, but if I want fuller, healthier ferns, I handle the inconvenience.  The rain relaxes me while I stand at the edge of the carport for my dog's last outside trip, so I sleep soundly hoping for sunny days and May flowers.

Planning this post, I found two perfect verses for an April Showers Bring May Flowers theme. Deuteronomy 32:2 Let my teaching drop as the rain.  and II Samuel 23:4 Like the tender grass springing out of the earth, By clear shining after rain. However, I came back to another verse several times, especially after Sunday's message.

for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.  Matthew 5:45 NKJ

 

Jesus teaches us that God shows no partiality. We are equal, for the sun rises and rain falls on us all. Rain is also, and often, used as a symbol for life's difficulties.  No one is exempt.  But, we're taught to expect rewards for our goodness.   Take care of our bodies? Good report from the doctor.  Show the boss we're dedicated? Promotion or more money.  So, rain seems unfair when we've done everything right.

 

I was frustrated with my so-called rainy April difficulties, replacing shrubs and a car mirror, computer woes, and a few doctor appointments.  How inconvenient for me, but YAY! sunny days are ahead. Good for me.  Then, in one week, a friend loses her mother suddenly, more than 30 people die from tornados, 17 people are displaced after a creek rises, and facebook friends request prayer for a three year old with cancer. Heavy rain on the just. Where in the world are the sunny days with May flowers? 

 

Sunday's message, Finding Footing in Difficult Places, was from Psalm 77.  The Psalmist is disturbed, so he is unsure of his walk with the Lord and questions his circumstances.  He wrestles to find firm ground.  It's a fight.  The Psalmist doesn't tell us when or if his circumstances changed, but we know he changed. He drew closer to God. He doesn't mention May flowers after the rain, but he finds fresh footing.  He rests firmly in God's strength and faithfulness.  http://www.concordbaptist.com/sermons/

Right words for rainy days are difficult.  To promise days of sunshine and May flowers seems as unfair as the heavy rains we WILL experience, so I'll end with another verse and words from my Grandmother King who was no stranger to rainy, unhealthy days.

And there will be a tabernacle for shade in the daytime from the heat, for a place of refuge, and for a shelter from storm and rain. Isaiah 4:6 NKJ

 

Where there is life, there is hope,

Katy

 

Stay Awake

 

 

When I was 8 months pregnant with Hope and desperate for a nap, three year old Luke began his terrible twos.  I needed more than his one hour nap so tried to "rest with my eyes open" on my bed during the day, but Luke took full advantage.   Whispering "Mommy, you go sleep," he marched with his yellow Little Tikes chair to David's chest of drawers to climb in search of treasures: buttons, coins, pens, and a pocket knife.  "Luke, don't climb up there. You might fall, and you don't need anything up there."  "Mommy, you go sleep," he commanded as he picked up the yellow chair and marched to the bathroom in search of more fun toys: dental floss and shaving cream. 

 

Two months later, I was a sleep deprived mother of a precious but colicky, RARELY asleep (day or night) one month old and a cabin fevered three year old.  Hope and Luke feel asleep at the same time one miraculous day, so I followed everyone's advice and took a nap.  I have no idea how long I slumbered before the door bell rang.  Luckily, I was on the sofa and didn't walk by Luke's bedroom before answering my once locked carport door on a freezing January afternoon to find no shoes, no coat Luke, our golden retriever that stayed in the yard with an impossible to open gate, and a 75 year old neighbor, who lived three houses down, proudly bringing my son home.

 

No matter their age, we watch over our children whenever possible hoping to protect them from life's hurts.  If there was a way to watch them 24 hours a day, seven days a week and keep them safe, we would.  A difficult realization for parents is that this isn't possible.  I tell these particular stories to share my favorite Bible verses.

 

He will not allow your foot to be moved; He who keeps you will not slumber.  Behold, He who keeps Israel Shall neither slumber nor sleep. Psalm 121:3-4 NKJ

 

Israel's terrain was very rocky and unsteady, but the Psalmist realized God steadies his foot.  The Living Bible says,  He will never let me stumble, slip, or fall.  If he will not allow my foot to be moved, why am I tripping, slipping, stumbling and falling so often? Why isn't my walk continually steady?  To keep children from falling, loving parents carry them, hold their hand, give them rules to follow,  issue a warning,  and eventually tell them NO, but sometimes they don't want to be carried, hold hands,  follow rules, heed the warning, or hear the word NO.  God doesn't allow, consent, our fall.  We let go.  Sometimes, however, we're pushed by others.  Whatever the reason for our fall, His hand is there to steady us again.

Some translations use "watch over" instead of "keep," but I like keep. 

             I like this. I'll keep it.

He's a keeper.

I can't give this away; it's a keepsake.

Keep this somewhere safe.

My grandmother used to say she was keeping house.  She was taking care of it.

God keeps me.  He keeps you.  He's awake and gives us a warning when we climb in our yellow chairs and reach for the knife that He knows will hurt.  He doesn't sleep when we wonder off in the cold.  If we ask Him to go with us, hold our hand, carry us, He will.  If we go unprotected, if we don't heed His warning, if we let go of His hand and stumble, He's awake to pick us up when we ask.

I'm a big fan of naps and an even bigger fan of a full 8 hours at night even though I can't keep anyone or any situation when I'm asleep.  After 18 years,  I still think about what could have happened to Luke while I slumbered.  Maybe this is the reason these are my favorite verses.  I know He doesn't want me to fall; in fact, He is my firm foundation.  I know instead of slumbering, He's keeping me.  

 

He who keeps you is not asleep,

 

Katy

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Saving Us

 

Many decades before DVD or VCR, we had albums to help us remember movies.  My sister and I listened to and memorized every word from the Mary Poppins album.  Our favorites were "The Nanny Song," and of course, "Spoon Full of Sugar." With popping into pictures, snapping fingers to clean, and singing about birds, what's not to love about Mary Poppins?  Well, Mr. Banks.  I never liked his role in the movie.  The magically cheerful nanny played by the talented Julie Andrews certainly didn't need a spoil sport.  The point of the movie was completely lost on me.

 

Saving Mr. Banks, the recent movie of Walt Disney and the writer of the Mary Poppins' books, tells the not so cheerful back story of the creative but lost and dysfunctional Travers Goff, a banker, and his daughter Helen and reminds us that Mary didn't pop in to save the children; she popped in to save their father. Mr. Banks, a proud gentleman leading a good life, has everything he needs; in fact,

 I'm the lord of my castle
The sov'reign, the liege!
Ah! Lordly is the life I lead!

 

Mr. Banks doesn't have much time for his kids, his subjects, but one Spring morning, Mary pops in and brings a spoon full of sugar, leaving the orderly Mr. Banks unsettled, and the words of Bert the chimney sweep cleverly help Mr. Banks see the empty life he actually leads.

You've got to grind, grind, grind
At that grindstone

For the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost. Matthew 18:11

When we don't understand something, like computer language, we feel unsettled.  We're lost.  We need to undertand.  When we drive for miles and hours in the wrong direction, which is my usual story, and finally realize it, we're afraid.  We're lost.  We must turn around and find our way.  Without Mary's Spring pop in making Mr. Banks feel unsettled, he would've continued being lost in his lordly life, never finding his way.

For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. Matthew 16:25

1987, Germany -Heidleburg Castle

Jesus saves me from myself and the destruction I create.  He's saving me from lording over my castle, my world,  by own rules as if I created it myself.   Do I really need to "lose my life?" Yes.  The lordly life I lead is prideful and doesn't provide fulfillment.

For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved. John 3:17

But this is reality, and saving me required so much more than a spoon full of sugar. I recently went to a dinner honoring dozens of individuals who gave blood to save lives. Blood is life.  My old self died with Christ on the cross.  His blood saved me.  Without His blood, I'm lost, unsettled and afraid.  Christ gives me a new life worth living.  Several beautifully written songs from Palm Sunday contained lines that offered a picture of a saved life by His blood.

It soothes my doubt and calms my fears, And it dries all my tears;
The blood that gives me strength from day to day.

What a sacrifice that saved my life.
Savior Son, Holy One, slain so I can live.

I am His and His alone;
This life is not my own,
My Jesus raised me from the grave.

 

He raised me from the grave I dug by my sins.  He sacrificed His life and shed His blood for me to be His alone, to be guided by His Spirit.  But first, I must be unsettled and fear lording my own life.  What about the many times I don't care about anyone but myself and continue grinding at the grindstone and lording over the castle? I condemn myself with the consequences, but Jesus offers mercy and forgiveness. Jesus calms and comforts and gives me strength every day.  Saving US on the cross was the ultimate sacrifice by Someone who loves us and wants our lives to be worth living.  

 Katy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Will They Say?

 

 

Focus, the personal development portion of the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People course, encourages participants to create a personal mission statement.  After watching a video of a lady's 80th birthday party where guests share how they were influenced by her, we were asked two questions: How do you want to be remembered? What will they say on your 80th birthday? 

 

We're thankful he's celebrating 80 years

Born, April 9, 1934, so April 9, 2014 will be 80 years for our Dad, Ed Brown.  That's a long life of memories, influences, and advice.  A difficult but valuable lesson Dad taught us growing up was Life Isn't Fair.  After uttering the famous childhood words "That's not fair," his response was always, "Give me the definition of fair.  How would you make that situation fair?"  This usually stumped us, of course, because our complaints were often how we thought we should have something someone else had.  As wonderful as life can be, it certainly isn't fair.  Never has been. Never will be.  Realizing that has helped us many times.

 

We watched Dad work long hours as a basketball and golf coach and a social studies teacher. We didn't have luxuries, but we had what we needed.  He taught us to be loyal to our employers, and if others didn't do their jobs, we still needed to do ours.  He also taught us to be coachable, to learn from others and from our own mistakes. 

 

Birthday parties are usually celebrated with family, but we did something different this year. When developing a mission statement in Focus, participants list roles: parent, friend, spouse, teacher, sibling, etc.  For each role, participants list how they want to be remembered in that role: as a mother, I want to be understanding; as a wife, I want to be patient, etc.  The role Dad is most known for is also his passion, teacher.  Although he retired as a public school educator after 35 years, he continues to teach at Concord Baptist Church, so we celebrated Dad's 80 years with the men in his Sunday school class and their wives.

Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, let us prophesy in proportion to our faith;  or ministry, let us use it in our ministering; he who teaches, in teaching; Romans 12:6-7





Bill & Dad

Bill Caldwell, also an educator, met Dad when he started teaching at T.L. Hanna High School in 1966.  They've served together as deacons and teachers at Concord, but most importantly, they've been friends for almost 50 years.

 

Betty Crump shared Dad's concern and kind words many years ago to her daughter, who was his student, and his encouragement to them after her death.  Most recently, she appreciated the joy on Mom and Dad's faces when she returned to church after  neurosurgery.  Betty also said Bobby will always be in Dad's class.

 

Several men reminded us of Dad's love of Southern Gospel and his relentless attempts to play a C.D. every Sunday on a devise he cannot seem to operate. Dad taught history, so it wasn't a surprise when someone shared that Dad chases a few rabbits during class.  Don't ask a question about the Northern and Southern Kingdoms unless you want a full account of Hebrew history.  A few years ago I met Dad's friend and fellow teacher, Mark Hopkins, leaving his hospital room, and he said, "You better hurry, he's teaching the Sunday school lesson to anyone who will listen."

 

Uncle Sam Knox shared his first impressions of Dad as the too cool, know-it-all older brother of his future wife, my late aunt Glenda.  Dad also led him into officiating football, where they spent many Friday nights together and golf, where Sam finally reached his goal of beating his brother-in-law/friend.  

 

Mom said she barely knew Dad when they married, but it's been fun. At their 40th Anniversary party, her dad, my wonderfully sarcastic Daddy Luke, said, "I know Sheila and Ed were meant for each other," How sweet. "because no one else could be married to either of them."

 

How do you want others to remember you?  What will they say at your 80th birthday party? We have gifts.  We have passions.  It is how we use these gifts and passions that will be remembered.  

 

Happy Birthday, Dad,

 

Susi & Katy