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5 Friday Faves – New Boomer Website, Creativity Burnout, Blake Mycoski’s Why (TOMS Shoes), Epiphany, and Community

January 8, 2016 admindeb 2 Comments

It’s Friday again. How does that happen so rapidly every week? For those of you who can’t wait until Friday, I celebrate with you. For those of us who see life zooming by, taking account on Fridays of what we learned and what we savored seems to slow down time just a bit. Hope you enjoy my 5 favorites of this week. What were some of yours?

1) New Website for Us Boomers (well, everyone really) Photo Credit: LivingWellLivingStrong.com

Membree.com launched this week. Quoting the creators of the website, we older folks (i.e. “Baby-boomers“), as well as other generations, have 2 common desires: to serve and to share:

1. SERVE –a desire to live life to the full, by serving those around us;

2. SHARE –a desire to pass on our life experiences, wisdom and legacy to our loved ones.

“Membree answers those two major life pursuits by inspiring its members to perform random acts of kindness and by capturing life memories in both print and digital form, so these memories can be shared broadly.”Photo Credit: Membree.com

2) Creativity Burnout – In this week’s blog on BeyondtheGuitar.com, guitarist/arranger Nathan Mills tells a bit of his story about almost leaving music altogether after burning out on years of work. His re-entry seemed a bit unorthodox to me, but as I read the connection of emotion and creative work became clear. Glad that season of burnout is behind him.

3) Blake Mycoski’s Why (TOMS Shoes) – OK, so I’ve never bought a pair of TOMS shoes, and until this Harvard Business Review article I couldn’t have told you who in the world is Blake Mycoski. After reading his story and the history of his company, I’m inspired. His honesty and transparency are compelling. Take the time to read this article for the details of his journey and his rediscovering the “why” of his business. One book he mentioned was Simon Sinek’s Start With Why – How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone to Take Action. That book is now on my 2016 “to-read” list. To give you a sweet teaser about Blake Mycoski’s return to his “why”, here’s a quote from the HBR article:

“People follow you, buy from you, when they believe what you believe. The more I thought about this idea, the more I realized that TOMS had veered away from its “why.” In the early days we always led with our story: We weren’t selling shoes; we were selling the promise that each purchase would directly and tangibly benefit a child who needed shoes. But our desire to sustain the company’s hypergrowth had pushed us away from that mission and into competing on the “what” and “how,” just as every other shoe company does…Our marketing increasingly felt product-focused rather than purpose-focused. And as the leader of TOMS, I was ultimately accountable for those mistakes. That was a tough pill to swallow.” – Blake Mycoski, Founder of TOMS ShoesPhoto Credit: tinyspark.org

4) Epiphany – This week’s marks the formal end of the Christmas season. Epiphany – January 6 – the day of celebration of God’s revelation of Christ, especially to the Gentiles (or all who are not Jews). It is also known as Three Kings’ Day. I love how it gives us twelve more days to celebrate such a God. The David Crowder Band refers to these 12 Days of Christmas in the intro to their song Carol of the Bells/Christmas Eve from the album Oh For Joy. [Crowder’s lounge piano intro is hilarious. Don’t miss it either.] Because of Epiphany and our sweet memories of many Christmases in Egypt (celebrated on January 7), I will finally ring out (or rock out, rather) the season with this amazing song:

5) Community – When you Google search the definition of the word community, this is what pops up:

com·mu·ni·ty

kəˈmyo͞onədē/

noun

1. a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.

2. a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals.

This week, I have been reminded all over again of the great value of community. Our neighbors are such a joy to us. So extraordinary in how they take time for each other and really seem to care for each other. We are blessed to live in this tiny part of Richmond, Virginia.

Then there is this bunch of folks who make up our community group (so far). We are joined by living near to each other, our partnership in Movement Church, and our love for Jesus and each other. Just this week as an old friend became a new part of our group, we were reminded of the kindness of God in community. Encouraging each other, praying for each other, loving each other…right where we are in life. Works in progress. God’s magnificent works in progress. Seemingly ordinary, but oh, not so! Community.

Christmas, Friends, Friendship, Growing up, Holidays, Love, Memories, Music, Remembering, Worship

O Holy Night – a Christmas Memory Set in Casablanca, Morocco

December 29, 2015 admindeb Leave a comment

As we tuck our Christmas 2015 memories away, one sweet distant memory was stirred this weekend. First, a little background of how it came to mind after many years…

We listen to Christmas music starting in October, so we delight in those radio stations that play it non-stop from Thanksgiving through December 25. My favorite radio station (Positive Hits PERS) continues, this week, to intersperse their playlist with Christmas songs…maybe until the New Year, and I am grateful.

Because of all that playtime, it was in the car, on Sunday, that I heard Mariah Carey sing O Holy Night. Photo Credit: Maxwell on Twitter

Then the memory flooded in…with so much joy… of another singing of O Holy Night. It was during the month of Ramadan over 10 years ago, in Morocco. That year Ramadan fell during November/December. One of the delights of Ramadan for us expats (who were foreigners to its observance) was an international merchandise fair held every night. Photo Credit: The Daily Beast

That year we went to the Ramadan Fair for Christmas presents. The fair is held in a massive exhibition hall, and the aisles are filled with imported and specialty goods of all sorts – specialty foods and other edible treats, clothing, toys, and décor. My friend, Terri, and I drove to the center of Casablanca one evening when the fair opened, after the breaking of the Ramadan fast. Our three teenaged daughters were with us.

It was a festive, funky time. We spoke Arabic to those vendors who spoke Arabic, and English to the Chinese, Pakistani, and Indian vendors, and broken French to the Senegalese vendors. It was a great night of shopping as we carried bags of treasures back to our car in the packed parking lot.

On the ride home, we sang Christmas carols. These family friends are known for their incredible vocal abilities. Terri and her daughters, Stephanie and Vanessa, are masters at 3-part harmony. My daughter Christie and I could at least blend in well enough.

We drove through the city, on that mild winter evening, singing our hearts out for Christmas. Pulling in front of their house, we were just starting O Holy Night. I don’t think we give it a thought as to who might be listening and wondering at that car loaded with women filling the night with that glorious song.

When we finished the song, we didn’t speak at first, silenced by the magic of that moment. To be so far from our homes and traditions in the US, and yet to find that place of sweet community. In a dark car, on a Ramadan night, in Casablanca…for us, a tiny group of American friends – it truly was a holy night.

Steph, Nessa, and Terri holding Christie (with brother Jared’s help)

That Family – All I Want For Christmas Is You High School Buddies

Maroc Mama website – for a taste of Morocco

Cross-Cultural, Family, Food & Drink, Growing up, Home, Inspired, Memories, Mom

Let’s Talk Biscuits & Gravy – So Much More Than Just A White Carb Load

October 27, 2015 admindeb Leave a comment

Photo Credit: Daisysworld.net

This morning I am fasting for a doctor’s appointment and blood work later in the day. As I sip strong coffee without my lovely hazelnut creamer, biscuits and gravy keep coming to mind. They get such a bad rap these days, filled with all that white flour and fat goodness. I don’t understand why they are so bad, when the same fit and lean lovelies in my life (who refuse to eat these white carbs) seem less bothered with sugar-laden yummies…but that’s for another blog.

Growing up in the South, biscuits and gravy bring all sorts of sweet memories to mind. My beautiful mom always worked long hours outside the home through the week. Weekends were filled with catching up with housework, church, and us. Still, she would cook the loveliest breakfasts for us, and, in particular, the best biscuits and gravy. She mixed the dough by hand. In fact, she had a wooden bowl where the flour stayed between fixings. [Sidebar – I never knew what happened to that bowl. At some point she changed to a plastic one with a lid; easier to store the flour between times, for sure.],

She hollowed out a valley of self-rising flour in that flour bowl and mixed buttermilk and shortening into it. Gradually with those expert hands of hers, turning and turning, those 3 ingredients became biscuit dough. Then she hand-formed and patted those biscuits into little flattened rounds of loveliness. A few minutes in a hot oven, and magic happened.

[My little one learning to make biscuits from the master.]

While the biscuits baked, Mom made the milk gravy in a cast iron skillet. Sometimes, it was just a mash of flour and shortening (a roux, right?), with milk poured on top…slowly cooked to thickened perfection. Sometimes, sausage was gloriously added. Lots of pepper and just enough salt.

Mom’s biscuits weren’t the tall fluffy kind. They were more flat and chewy (with that sour bite of buttermilk). No matter how many she made, on a weekend with all of us around the table, there was always a grab for the last one. We ate the biscuits opened with gravy poured on. Mom liked a tomato diced on top of hers, and I took after her in that.

In all my life of cooking, my biscuits are never as good as hers. I do miss the days when, even as inferior as mine were, we sat around the weekend breakfast table with our teenagers, making our own biscuit and gravy traditions. These days, with the world so health-conscious, we don’t do this sort of breakfasting as much anymore…but the memories are, in themselves, satisfying.

Still…after my doctor’s visit, I wish I could make it to Hardee’s before they finish their breakfast service. Best biscuits and gravy option I have…since Mom’s with the Lord now…but hers were the very best.

Finally, one quick story….When we were living in Tunisia, North Africa, we had great British friends also living in our neighborhood. We enjoyed many servings of tea and cake around their table. One weekend morning, I invited them for an American breakfast of biscuits and gravy. First, “biscuits” in British terminology are cookies. Gravy is also brown and served over meat with dinner not at breakfast. So the idea of a meat gravy served over sweet cookies, for breakfast, turned out not yummy-sounding to our friends.

They were sweetly polite…but just didn’t understand that combination. Even upon tasting, the husband commented how it was an odd thing to do with scones. Live and learn.

What’s your favorite breakfast? If not at home, where? Back to fasting for me…for now.

The Move to America – British Expat Trying Biscuits & Gravy

US vs. UK – Scones or Biscuits

Best Biscuits in Nashville – We had those biscuits at Monell’s. Yum!

Paula Deen’s Recipe for Country Fried Steak with Biscuits and Gravy

Alzheimer's Disease, Attending or Focus, God, Grace, Lifelong Learning, Memories, Redeeming & Restoring, Remembering, Seasons, Transitions, Writing

Memory – Whatever it is that I Don’t Have I Want to Keep

October 1, 2015 admindeb 2 Comments

My husband is a master gardener.

We have a beautiful backyard with a garden nurtured by a previous owner, Holly, and now made our own by Dave. Just beyond the patio are two pots. One is a pot of begonias; they have thrived all summer and keep blooming into Fall. There’s a matching pot of chocolate mint that is more scraggly. Dave told me next summer he wanted to do begonias in both pots. I asked him what he would do with the mint and he said he’d just throw it away.

No…I don’t want it thrown away. It has memories for me. What memories, he asked. It was here when we came (Holly was also a master gardener and left all kinds of sweet treasures in this yard of ours).

Then Dave said, “No, it wasn’t.” “It was a gift from our neighbor where we used to live.” To which I responded:

“Whatever the memory is that I don’t have I want to keep it.”

That nonsensical sentence is actually quite revealing. Once upon a time, I had an amazing memory. I could multi-task like crazy, keeping up with all sorts of details. Now, I make lists tucked on my keyboard each day to remember what I might otherwise forget.

My doctor, who is my same age, tested my memory at my request. He said it was normal and he struggles with the same age-related forgetfulness.

“Whatever the memory is that I don’t have I want to keep it.”

So…I write to keep that memory…of family visits, far-away places we’ve traveled and called home, lessons learned, and all the times God showed Himself faithful and kind in our lives together.

I write for my children…and for me. It would be a huge joy for me if my meanderings add to your day in a positive way.

I write to keep remembering…such times as these. Grateful. By the way…that pot of chocolate mint? It may hold begonias next year, but my dear husband will plant the mint somewhere so I can enjoy the memory…of that sweet young man next door who shared it with us…now that I remember again. Joy.

Forgetfulness – Seven Types of Normal Memory Problems

Age-related Memory Loss

When Memory is Normal & When it is Not-So-Normal

Family, Glory of God, God, Growing up, Inspired, Memories, Vacations

Lightnin’ Bugs – Here a Moment and Then Gone – as the Summer

June 23, 2015 admindeb Leave a comment

Photo Credit: www.strangesounds.org

Catching lightnin’ bugs (as we called them in Georgia) was a grand part of our summers growing up. We never got tired of it. Sometimes, mom would say “Just enjoy them”, and we put the jars away. My brothers and I would play outside in the hot sticky evenings. We played until it was too dark to see how to run. Often, we would just follow the lightning bugs as they flashed signals to each other. Male seeking female, mating on their minds.

As children, we were mesmerized by them because they seemed to not exist until those few hours every night. From dusk until deep dark, they flew, and we were enchanted with them. We didn’t notice mosquito bites then, nor the heat.

Called in from the yard at last, we would take turns washing up in our one bathroom in those days. I never understood how that line of dirt made its way around our necks. Or how filthy feet could get from chasing around the yard with no shoes. Summer nights, after long hours of play, were filled with deep sleep for us as brothers and sister, growing up with shared life. Dreaming of fireflies darting up from the grass, flitting through the night sky, to a mysterious mate.

Our children spent most of their growing up years in the Africa bordering the Sahara. No lightning bugs there. Summer vacations back in the US were made all the more magical by these evening lightshows.

I just recently found out that lightning bugs were beetles. Beetles in Africa are big and shiny black and not for play in our family. They are right up there with the mammoth flying roaches, in terms of creepiness. Fortunately, lightning bugs, in the dazzling loveliness of their glow, make them an altogether different creature…almost on the order of fairies, rather than insects.

Summer, like the season of lightning bugs, never seems long enough. So we savor it. From indoors and out. I am thankful for a yard lit up at night by these little showmen. Every place we have ever lived had its own loveliness…for now, in Virginia, this is part of what we celebrate of God’s creation…in our back yard. You are welcome.

Photo Credit: www.robindance.me

Firefly

Light in play

Silent signal

End of day

Rhythmical

Illumination

Simple

Childlike fascination

Demanding chase

They blink and dance

One more spark

And that’s your chance

Neon glow

Adorn the night

Summer’s glory

Our delight by Robin Dance*

*Magic of the Night by Robin Dance

Fireflies! 12 Things You Didn’t Know About Lightning Bugs

How to Attract Fireflies to Your Backyard

Photo Credit: thaynesworld.com

Alzheimer's Disease, Attending or Focus, Family, Friends, Grace, Lessons Learned, Marginalized People, Memories, Monday Morning Moment, Remembering, Stories

“I’m the Boss” – Dad and Alzheimer’s – A Strange Companionship

June 15, 2015 admindeb Leave a comment

After I punched in the security code (to keep residents in rather than us out), the heavy door released its lock allowing entrance to the memory care unit, First thing, I could hear Dad before even seeing him. He was sitting on the sofa, holding the toy he loves most – a dinosaur given to him by his daughter-in-law. [He thinks it’s a kangaroo, and, in fairness, it sort of looks like one]. He was staring off, repeating over and over, “I’m the boss. I’m the boss.”

The staff and other residents around this common room seemed completely unscathed by his declaration. A “stranger” entering the room broke the normalcy of the atmosphere. I’m sure they knew it made me uncomfortable to see my dad “lost” in some other consciousness. He has Alzheimer’s.

I’ve written about Dad’s life with Alzheimer’s before (here). He was admitted into an assisted living facility only four-and-a-half months ago. He continues to do very well, despite life-threatening situations (blocked carotid arteries, metastatic colon cancer, and now Alzheimer’s). He amazes me, really. It is obvious, from visit to visit, that his disease is taking its toll. Yet there’s so much of Dad there still, and we are all so grateful.

A couple of months ago, Dad could still have conversations with us. He needed prodding, but the stories would come – fascinating, detailed stories of his growing up years and ours. I have always loved his stories. And the funniest jokes. Even when they weren’t funny, he enjoyed them so much, it made them funny.

In recent weeks, conversations are becoming shorter, more of a chore. He still has great, comforting memories but the fire of remembering has to be stoked considerably. As far as short-term memory goes, he may not remember what he had for supper an hour ago, but he remembers so many other things. – that Dave loves strawberries, and that he still loves the Atlanta Braves, and exactly how to tease each of his grandchildren. When one of them visited recently and called his dinosaur a cat, he got all “offended”. Dad has fussed about it since, at each mention of grandson Jeremy’s name. He will forget eventually, but for now, it stirs an affectionate pot in his mind.

[None of us could ever beat him in arm-wrestling, and as frail as he is, he hasn’t forgotten how to wear us out and eventually draw down our arms.]

With Alzheimer’s, the world of those affected seems to get smaller and smaller. We used to have long, meandering conversations. I miss the dad of those conversations. We’ve been fortunate in that he is still much like himself, with less words. He loves to eat and loves to laugh. I treasure that laugh of his. He still loves people and having visits from his pastor, friends and family, and his hospice nurses.Especially his grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Dad has gotten less interested in going out of his assisted living facility. It feels safe to him. Comfortable. Once we’re out though, he is engaged – talking to the other drivers, telling me how to drive, looking for coins on the road (like we’re going to stop and pick them up). Alzheimer’s took away his freedom to drive but it also took away his desire to drive – a strange companionship, this disease and those who contend with it.

One afternoon, we joined other residents in listening to and singing with a church choir in the great room of the facility – outside of the memory care unit. The world feels much larger there. The choir led in some old Gospel songs – “Victory in Jesus”, “Take It to the Lord in Prayer”, “I’ll Fly Away”. At first Dad seemed to really enjoy the singing, and then, he “went away”. Lost in his thoughts and memories. I left him there…somewhere apart, following a scene I could not see.

After the choir finished, we walked back to the memory care unit, and he joined others for supper. Each has his or her own incredible life. Each now with different companions than they might have chosen – both at the table with them, and inside their own thoughts.

In watching Dad through his diminishing memory, and seeing those around him struggle, I’m struck by the dignity of life that we must battle to preserve. This quieter, mind-wandering, lovely old gentleman is still our Dad.

His repetitive “I’m the boss. I’m the boss.” is not surprising. With little education afforded to him as a farmer’s son during the Great Depression, he was rarely anyone’s boss. However, he has lived his life (for all the time I’ve known him) with such a confidence and determination, with autonomy and authority. With so much dignity that not even dementia can steal, hopefully.

Now, with Alzheimer’s, he won’t be easily convinced that he’s NOT the boss.

Maybe, it’s his turn…for a season.

[Big Dogs t-shirt with message (on the back) “I Am the Boss” – Happy Father’s Day present from that same daughter-in-law with a knack for great gifts – as in the dinosaur/kangaroo/cat toy Dad loves]

Repetition and Alzheimer’s

A Different Season of Life – Dad & Alzheimer’s

Alzheimer’s, the Brain, and the Soul

Alzheimer’s Reading Room – to Educate and Empower Alzheimer’s caregivers, their families, and the entire Alzheimer’s Community

Alzheimer’s Speaks Blog – Giving Voice to Those Affected by Alzheimer’s

Memories From My Life Blog – Memory Posters

The Best Alzheimer’s Blogs of the Year (2015)

12 Behaviors that Trouble Alzheimer’s Caregivers

Alzheimer’s: 25 Signs Never to Ignore

All Good Gifts, Babies & Children, Birthdays, Family, Grace, Holidays, Memories, Remembering, Seasons, Thanksgiving or Gratefulness

On the 25th Birthday of our Baby Boy – A Photo Montage and a Playlist

May 14, 2015 admindeb 2 Comments

I look over at their pictures,
Sittin’ in their frames.
I see them as babies:
I guess that’ll never change.
You pray all their lives,
That someday they will find happiness.

Then they do, and that’s how it is.
It’s just quiet in the mornin’,
Can’t believe how much you miss,
All they do and all they did.
You want all the dreams they dreamed of to come true:
Then they do. – Trace Adkins, Then They Do

Today is Daniel’s 25th birthday, and, on this quiet spring morning, he’s still sleeping, after a long series of worknights. He’s living at home now, but he won’t be for long probably. This birthday seems the one to mark his soon launch into the big wide world. I am both thrilled for him and nervous at the prospect as well. All. Grown. Up. Sigh…

If you know our Dan, you know he surrounds himself with music. His taste has changed through the years, and I won’t even give a try at identifying his favorite genres right now. It is definitely not country music, so he will roll his eyes at the playlist links below. Still, in this early morning of his 25th, I’m in a smarmy, puffy-hearted state of mind over this boy (man) of ours.

Daniel came home to us 24 years ago from South Korea. With each birthday, I think of his very young Korean mama who carried him but couldn’t keep him. She must mark this day with us every year, a half a world away. He had a bumpy start to life and has battled through a myriad of challenges growing up. His courage and determination have helped him push through…and much answered prayer on the part of his parents, grandparents, siblings, and friends. We are so proud of him.

So…I just want to put up pictures and close with Mark Harris’ song Find Your Wings. Happy Birthday, Daniel. Love you forever.Find Your Wings

It’s only for a moment
You are mine to hold; The plans that heavens has for you
Will all too soon unfold
So many different prayers I’ll pray
For all that you might do
But most of all I want to know
You’re walking in the truth

And if I never told you
I want you to know
That as I watch you grow

I pray that God would fill your heart with dreams
And that faith gives you the courage
To dare to do great things
I’m here for you whatever this life brings
So let my love give you roots
And help you find your wings

May passion be the wind
That leads you through your days
And may conviction keep you strong
Guide you on your way
May there be many moments
That make your life so sweet
Oh but more than memories

It’s not living
If you don’t reach for the sky
I’ll have tears as you take off
But I’ll cheer as you fly

Lyrics to Trace Adkins’ Then They Do

Lyrics to Mark Harris’ Find Your Wings

YouTube Video – Find Your Wings by Mark Harris

50 Songs from Parent to Child

Country Songs About Growing Up

Songs for Growing Up (Another PlayList)

Rascal Flatts – My Wish for You – With Lyrics

8 Items for Christian Parents to Ponder

Photo Credits: Mine, except for pics from Daniel’s time in S. Korea (Children’s Home Society) – the woman in the picture with him was his foster mother who cared for him until he came home to us.

All Good Gifts, Beauty of God's Creation, Kindness of Strangers, Neighbors, Thanksgiving or Gratefulness

No Small Kindness – Flowers from Her Yard – a Gift from a Stranger

April 30, 2015 admindeb 4 Comments

For a year, we rented a small house in a tidy neighborhood. It was easy to walk the neighborhood and I knew the yards well. When April came, this one yard in particular became my favorite. The owner had the most beautiful garden of bearded, purple-blue irises. They are my favorite flower, because they remind me of my Mom. She had so many in our yard from the time I was a child. Just seeing those irises made my heart glad – from the days of closed bud, through the glory of full bloom, and even past their splendor. I loved those days of walks past that house.

Then I met the owner. Her name is Liz. She turned into her driveway one day when my daughter and I had been walking but were presently lingering in front of her house. I must have taken a hundred pictures of those irises during that growing season. Liz told me the story of how her dad was a botanist and he planted the irises years before. He and my mom would have liked each other, I’m sure.

Liz and I would only meet that one day. I told her we were preparing to move. We had bought a house (our house now) and we would be moving within a couple of weeks. I thanked her for the pure pleasure her garden of irises had brought me during that April and early May.

Then she did a quite remarkable thing. She said, “I’m planning to thin the beds alongside my house, so if you want them, they’re yours.” Of course, I wanted them! We exchanged phone numbers, and when the irises were past their season, she would call me, and I could come get them.

She didn’t forget me.

One Sunday, after we had moved, she called me and said they were ready for me. She had them dug up, separated from each other and gathered in garbage bags. I picked them up from the curb because she would be napping, she said on the phone.

My husband planted them in our yard, in a sunny spot. It’s been many years since we’ve had a garden, and we had little experience with irises. We weren’t sure what would happen come the next April…but we hoped they would thrive in our yard as they did in Liz’s.

As Spring lengthened this year, those irises woke from their winter sleep, in this very new place. The foliage was beautiful alone yet we weren’t sure blooms would develop. A few have, actually and I was waiting for the debut of those sentimental flowers. Yesterday evening, I was visiting a friend, and my phone signaled a text message. Dave sent me this photo:

The first of those irises bloomed in our yard! Almost a year had passed from the day I met Liz. Still, I called her to tell her the good news. She remembered me. I thanked her again for that generous gift she shared with me. Flowers from her yard. This stranger and friend. Today she was suffering from the allergies so common here in spring with the yellow pine pollen that settles everywhere. One day, we agreed, we will meet again.

What she did for me that day about a year ago was no small kindness. This stranger shared a bit of her life with me, and now that bit flourishes in my life…in my yard, and in my heart. The kindness of a stranger – so unexpected and so captivating. It’s one of the many kindnesses of strangers I’ve known in life across continents. It’s no small thing.

“If I look back at my life, the sweet small kindnesses of strangers are pivotal and really combine to help shape my world view – and they probably have no idea.” – Debra Smith

“There is no small act of kindness. Every compassionate act makes large the world.” – Mary Anne Radmacher

Some of Mom’s irises transplanted in my niece Stephanie’s yard

All Good Gifts, Alzheimer's Disease, Attending or Focus, Faithfulness, Family, God, Gospel, Heaven, Inspired, Jesus, Lessons Learned, Lives Full of God, Love, Memories, Mom and Dad, Neighbors, Relationships, Thanksgiving or Gratefulness, Walk with God, Wednesday Worship, Worship

Worship Wednesday – Live Like That – with Sidewalk Prophets

April 22, 2015 admindeb Leave a comment

Jesus said, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” – John 13:34-35

We choose whether our brief lives are misspent or spent well. A few days ago, a dear neighbor, Mrs. Frances died unexpectedly at the young age of 92. I loved her stories of teaching English and serving people God placed in her life. She and her sister walked the neighborhood in the early morning. Just seeing her on those walks encouraged my heart. She had so much joy and was generous with it, lavishing it on all she met. By her own testimony of faith, and evidenced by a life of loving God and others, she is in Heaven. I can see her house from my kitchen window, and her life will continue to affect me for good. I want to live like that.Mrs. Frances (on left) & Mrs. Johnnie – Neighbors & Friends

“Only one life, ’twill soon be past,
Only what’s done for Christ will last.
And when I am dying, how happy I’ll be,
If the lamp of my life has been burned out for Thee.”
C.T Studd (read whole beautiful poem here)

God has given me so many opportunities in life, for which I’m deeply grateful. Parents who loved God and loved us. A good education. Great friends through the years and across distances. Incredible work situations: teaching nursing at Emory University and then Yale University, working on cancer units in inner city settings and small towns, teaching English overseas, and now writing. I am a wife (blessed with an amazing “in-law” family), a mom to 3 great young adult children (two of whom have added sweet spouses to our family), and a grandmother-to-be. So much joy in all that.

Life has its deep losses as well. My closest life-long friend died this past year. We have lost other friends, family members, and dear colleagues over the years – some dying very young. My Mom, who was always my role model for godliness, died at 75, which today seems so young. My brother, Robert, and his son, Chad, are gone now as well, and even writing this, my heart is pierced again with the pain of missing them.My Mom, Mildred McAdams

My sweet nephew, Chad Stephens

My older brother, Robert Stephens

So what of all of this? Did those people, through all these years and across all these miles, these whose lives brushed with mine, experience Jesus’ love through me? Today, is it the case?

There are moments of revelation – wake-up calls – that we are meant to hear for our own lives. Life is full of cross-roads, and we choose which way we go. No matter how successful, beautiful, influential, or (fill-in-the-blank), we are, each of us has only this one brief candle-flame of a life. How we live it matters. Will we be remembered more than a generation or two beyond our short stint on earth? Probably not. That doesn’t really matter as much as what we do with our lives – for God and for others. That’s what matters.

Do we live our lives for ourselves? Squeezing all the goodness out of our fortunes to indulge our own desires? Do we hold onto time as if it belongs to us? Do we waste a lifetime on our screens, instead of invested in real people? Uncomfortable questions, especially for me. I so struggle in this. As I write, even if this encourages some, I am aware of a world beyond the door I can see from my desk…where people are, in real skin, and real need. It brings all the more urgency to finish this writing…to get on out there.

“Oh God, I fail regularly. You are not bothered, I’m pretty sure, by our need for downtime sometimes. For recreation. You’ve created us to both work and rest, and You give us leisure to refresh us for the next round of life. Forgive us, when we use that leisure to spend on ourselves and only then want more – more time for ourselves, more toys, more self-directed adventures. Oh God, help us remember how You saved us from ourselves, through faith in Jesus. Help us to see the world with Your eyes. Help me, God, to get up out of this chair…and go out there… ‘recklessly abandoned, never holding back’ – like Jesus lived and shows us how. I want to live like that.”

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. – Hebrews 12:1-2

Worship with me, with this great call to faith and action by Sidewalk Prophets:

Sometimes I think
What will people say of me
When I’m only just a memory
When I’m home where my soul belongs

Was I love
When no one else would show up
Was I Jesus to the least of us
Was my worship more than just a song?

(Chorus)
I want to live like that
And give it all I have
So that everything I say and do
Points to You
If love is who I am
Then this is where I stand
Recklessly abandoned
Never holding back
I want to live like that
I want to live like that

Am I proof
That You are who you say You are
That grace can really change a heart
Do I live like Your love is true?

People pass
And even if they don’t know my name
Is there evidence that I’ve been changed
When they see me, do they see You?

Chorus

I want to live like that
I want to live like that

I want to show the world the love You gave for me
(I want to live like that)
I’m longing for the world to know the glory of the King

Chorus

I want to live like that
I want to live like that*

*Lyrics to Live Like That by Sidewalk Prophets

YouTube Video – Live Like That by Sidewalk Prophets

YouTube Video – Live Like That by Sidewalk Prophets [images from films and news reports you might find familiar – brought tears to my eyes. One distracting typo: In the lyrics, corrected it’s “Was I love when no one else would show up?”

Live Like That – Sidewalk Prophets – Devotional Series

YouTube Video – Live Like That by Sidewalk Prophets (just another lyric video – another set of powerful images accompanying life-changing words)

Story Behind the Song Live Like That

Sidewalk Prophets Website

Photo Credit – Sidewalk Prophets Live Like That album cover Others are my own.

My Dad, living well, so far, with Alzheimer’s, and me

Family, Home, Inspired, Parenting

Living in the Moment – It is All We Have

June 23, 2014 admindeb 1 Comment

I want to learn more to live in the moment. Little guys seem to know how to do that intuitively, like they have no sense of what’s down the road. Just the joy of the “right now” – a dinosaur pancake on a Saturday morning is splendid enough.

I’ll never forget the time that I walked up on our first-born Christie, when she was not even 2, and happily coloring on the hallway wall. As soon as I appeared, her reverie stopped abruptly, causing her to even startle and catch herself, with the guilty crayon held still in mid-air.

She knew she was in trouble. Her eyes went wide and her little mouth froze open. Of course, I didn’t discipline her, but I didn’t take a picture of her crayon drawing either. We grownups too often are bound to the future, and the proper raising of children, rather than focusing in on what we have right in front of us. A beautiful little girl who had lost herself in a white wall with a crayon in her hand.

That little girl is all grown up now, a teacher of little ones herself.When I hear her talk about her childhood, there’s so much lovely detail. She has a great memory, and I thoroughly enjoy her recaps of times gone by. I have lost too many of these details that are so vivid to her, and I’m thinking there are at least two reasons why. One reason, of course, is that the memories are hers. Those things happened to her. I was a bystander, usually an interested one, but too often, a distracted one. Then there’s a second reason – life itself bombards us with so much to notice. It’s like the experience of a baseball fan whose attention is drawn from the game by what’s happening on the big screen, or by the antics of some crazy person down the row from you, or by a hawker with just the snack you were watching for. There’s so much going on, you miss huge chunks of the baseball game…if you’re like me.

Life happens at many levels all the time. We choose where we focus our minds…our attention.

As a parent with small children, attending to their needs was an in-and-out mental work. I could hone in when I needed to be fully there to meet their needs. Learning to quickly discern if they were wet, hungry, tired, hurt, mad. And I would, at times, just be fully involved from the sheer joy of having them in my life. Their babytalk, their discoveries, their accomplishments, their wonder at the world around them, their work and play, their sleeping times. Then there were other moments, however, when they were content with their cereal, or toys, or Daddy, and I would focus out – to a radio program, a phone call, or an idea or problem I was working on silently in my head.

This being my reality, there are details I don’t remember, or don’t remember well, because, in a way, I really wasn’t there. Not that there is a moral issue necessarily at work here. It’s a reality of having the capacity of both attending to the needs before us, and thinking of other needs, or desires, not yet before us. It’s one of the dichotomies that come to mind when I hear women who want to be stay-at-home moms because they don’t want to miss their children. We can still miss our children, even when they’re hanging on our hips, or taking ballet right in front of us, or reading their first books to us, or playing those soccer games. We can be talking to other moms, thinking about what’s on the schedule tomorrow, or sorting out how to deal with a conflicted relationship. We can mentally be very absent from our children.

I don’t want to miss the people right in front of me anymore. I want to learn to be in the moment…the moments ahead will take care of themselves.

A Bit of Instructions on How to Live a Good Life – Pay Attention. Be Astonished. Tell About It.

One Thing Well (the multi-tasking trap)

How to Miss a Childhood

How to Miss a Moment

P.S. My children were little, a couple of decades ago, before the internet or cell phones were our constant companions. Our lives were quiet compared to today’s assault on the senses. This is the culture in which they will raise their children. I write this for them…not to encourage them to focus on their children in an unhealthy, child-centered way, but to be all there with them. And when they must attend to other responsibilities or relationships, to teach their children that others matter, too. We can, joyfully, live in the moment – focused, intentional, generous, and aware.