Author: Kay Gerfers

I'm divorced and have three phenomenal sons--Trey, Andrew, Joe--one precious daughter-in-law--Meredith--and one super-precious granddaughter, Emy. I am a native Texan and have lived here all my life.

A Father’s Day Reflection

Sunday is Father’s Day. How are you going to honor your father? Grilling up some steaks or hot dogs? Ice cold watermelon? Or maybe dinner at his favorite restaurant? A day at the golf course and no complaining allowed by those who stay at home?

My dad, me on right and my sister on left.
My dad, me on right and my sister on left.

When I was growing up fathers were expected to be the main breadwinners in the family. My own dad provided ample food, clothing and shelter for my mom, my siblings and me. In fact, he did so well at providing that when my mother and he were both in an assisted living facility for patients of dementia, my siblings and I had no worries related to finances. By the measure of a good provider, my dad was a good father.

But in recent years it has come to the attention of researchers that a father’s influence effects everything from how successful his adult children are in their chosen professions to how successful they are in their marriages. If you want to read more about this aspect of fathers, here are links to two articles: “The Importance of Fathers in the Healthy Development of Children” is from the Department of Health and Human Services and “The Importance of Fathers” from the Psychology Today.

The most important way a father influences his child is in how his son or daughter views God. It is not unusual for a person who does not believe in God say that if God is a father, they want no part of him because their own father was angry, unloving, critical, or some other negative quality. I didn’t understand this way of thinking. In my mind, if you had a bad father, then God should be all the more attractive because he is perfect in love, kindness, and mercy.

Then one day I was reading Psalm 51 in my Bible. This psalm was written by King David when he was confronted about his affair with Bathsheba. I had read it many times before, but on this particular day I saw something astonishingly new: I had been trying to make up to God for all the ways I had disappointed him. I tried to get on his good side by being and doing good so he would love me.

As I meditated on this psalm in the days following this revelation, I realized that I was doing the same thing with my earthly father. I tried to make up to him for all the ways I sensed I had disappointed him. My view of what God thought of me and how much he loved me was wrapped up in my view of my dad and how much I thought he loved me. I was looking at my heavenly Father through a lens that was my relationship with my earthly father.

Then I began to realize that trying to make up to God was fruitless; there was nothing that could be done in my power that would make up for the bad things I had done. And even more amazing was that there was no use in making up to God because he had already forgiven me. He had already given me a second chance and a third chance and as many chances as I would ever need. And further, that the bad things I had done in no way effected how much God loves me; he loves me regardless of my actions or attitudes.

Once I understood that and started changing how I related to my heavenly Father, accepting the forgiveness and the second chances, I began to see my earthly father differently. I saw not through my own ideas but through the thoughts and words of God as expressed in the Bible–a new lens. If God could forgive me, then I could attempt to forgive my dad. If God gave me a second chance, then I could try my hardest to give my dad a second chance.

This is a simple explanation of a process that took years. I was an adult that day I read Psalm 51. Twenty years later when my dad died, I don’t think I was even halfway to forgiving him. That was almost nine years ago. As I’ve forgiven and forgiven again–that second chance God is so ready to give–I have come to a place where I can say that I have forgiven so much that the parts I haven’t forgiven aren’t that important any longer.

If you are interested in reading more about my dad,  click here to read my post “A Couple of Street Corners and Imagination”. On the website of mmLearn.org you can view two videos in which I talk about my dad and me: one about my relationship with my dad and one from which this post was taken, “Father’s Day Reflections”. The mmLearn website is a service of Morningside Ministries and was created and designed for caregivers, both those who work in care facilities and those who care for loved ones at home. “Father’s Day Reflections” is just one of many presentations in their Prayers for a Caregiver series.

My dad will be in my thoughts this Sunday, Father’s Day. If your dad is still with you, I hope you have the opportunity to enjoy his presence that day. If, like my dad, he has passed, I pray that your memories of him will be sweet and filled with forgiveness.

From the Woodpile Kitty,

Have a blessed Father’s Day

Reflections for Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day: just the sound of those words can wreak havoc in the hearts and minds of adult children everywhere. Just two words can turn even the most sensible adult into a sullen adolescent. What gift to buy? Where should we eat? What should I say?

When President Woodrow Wilson signed a proclamation in 1914 that Mother’s Day would be celebrated on the second Sunday of May, the original intention was to pay tribute to mothers and their contributions to our lives. Over time, it has become commercialized and has grown into a huge industry.

  • Mother’s Day is the second biggest gift-giving day, behind Christmas.
  • 96% of American consumers take part in some way in Mother’s Day.
  • Mother’s Day is the peak day of the year for long distance telephone calls.

All of these expectations combined with the real-life relationship of mother and child can cause panic at the very thought of Mother’s Day. This holiday or day of remembrance hinges on the relationship of mother and child like no other. And that relationship can make the day happy and peaceful or disagreeable and painful.

What is that relationship about? At the core, a mother is a woman who has borne a child. By that definition everyone in the world has a mother so there is no getting around Mother’s Day. Ignoring it and hoping it will go away is not going to work. The fourth definition of mother in my Webster’s is “that which gives birth to something, is the origin or source of something, or nurtures in the manner of a mother”. With this definition even those of us who have had a tumultuous relationship with our birth mother can celebrate Mother’s Day. Everyone has had someone in their life who has served as mother according to this definition. If the person we call mother has also managed to bring to our lives the fourth definition, then we are blessed children indeed.

I would grade my relationship with my own mom as good. However, there was a time when we were estranged. Mother’s Day during those years was particularly painful. Once we managed to reconcile, Mother’s Days were even more special because we could be together.

However, it wasn’t until after she died that I understood the greatest gift my mother gave me. Going through her papers, I found a story she had written in 1970. It was in her handwriting on a piece of notebook paper. She may have meant it as her autobiography, but it was her faith story. She told how she came to believe in Jesus and how she was baptized in a creek. After she left home on the farm and moved to the city, her mother urged her to go to church and read the Bible in each letter she sent. I have some of those letters. Once she married my dad and my sister and I were born, Mom felt more urgently the need to take us to Sunday School and church. But Daddy wasn’t very interested in that. As Mom wrote: “this did not fit into my plans very well as I felt we should worship together”.

A family friend filled in some details Mom left out of her story. Every Sunday my mother would get my sister, Patricia, and I dressed and take us to church. She would leave Daddy at the kitchen table reading the paper. One Sunday, Daddy noticed she wasn’t getting dressed for church and asked her why. She told him that they should go together. If he wasn’t going to go, she wasn’t either. That morning he got up from the table, dressed and took us all to church.

My strongest memory of my dad is waking me up on Sunday morning and taking the family to church every Sunday I lived at home. I always thought I owed my Christian upbringing to my dad when in reality I owed it to my mom and grandmother. That was the greatest blessing my mom gave me. She was both my birth mother and a definition number four mother. I wish I had known this while she was alive so I could have thanked her properly.

Whether or not we had a mother who was nurturing and loving to you, I believe each of us can be that kind of mother to someone else. Regardless of gender and whether or not we have children, each of us can be a definition four mother.

I challenge you this Mother’s Day to think about your mother. How did she bless you? What was her greatest gift to you?

If your Mother was not what she should have been, who has been that person for you? Mother’s Day is a good time to celebrate him or her.  Add value to this day of remembrance for both of you by telling them what they mean to you.

If you’d like to see and hear about Mother’s Day, you can click here for a video on which this blog post is based. The video is on the website of mmLearn.org which is a service of Morningside Ministries. mmLearn was created and designed for caregivers, both those who work in care facilities and those who care for loved ones at home. “Mother’s Day Reflections” is just one of many presentations in their Prayers for a Caregiver series.

From the Woodpile Kitty to you:

Have a blessed and extra-special Mother’s Day.

Significant Events

If you are a regular follower of the Woodpile Kitty, then you may have noticed that my posts have become few and far between. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, it’s that I don’t know how to say what’s on my mind and heart. When people ask me what I blog about I tell them I write about significant events. Woodpile Kitty is not a journal or diary so the events could have happened recently or they could have happened many years ago. The events can hold national significance or can be seemingly insignificant. My goal with each post is that the ideas I write about will open significance into the lives of readers.

The last couple of months have been fraught with significant events. So much significance that I didn’t know where to start in writing about them. For one thing, they are very private. And they are not just my significant events; they are the significant events of my loved ones, my sons.

First, let me tell you about these sons: Trey and Andrew (he prefers Andrew, but he’ll always be Andy to me). Trey is the oldest. Before his first birthday, Andy was born. Yes, they are eleven months apart. The first two or three years, I thought I would never again do anything but change diapers and feed babies. However, time does change things and soon they were potty trained, entertaining themselves and playing with friends. Joe, the youngest son, missed all of this fun by 10 years.

One of 11 - Trey, Andy & Twinkie - circa 1974my favorite photos of Trey and Andy was taken when they were probably 3 and 4 years old. At the time we had a dachshund named Twinkie. All three of them are in a big cardboard box, the favorite toy of little boys. The boys are laughing, trying to hold Twinkie in the box. Twinkie, with a terrified look on her face, is trying desperately to escape. That photo captures the essence of these two brothers: fun-loving, mischievous, good boys on the constant lookout for something to get into. They were so close in size that people would ask them if they were twins and they’d nod their heads in unison. Not twins, but very good friends.

Things changed when the hormones started raging. In middle school, they became very competitive. Trey played the French horn in the band; Andy was into football and baseball. The competition was fierce; whatever they were interested in was much better than what their brother was interested in. Andrew shot up and was taller than Trey. It was not unusual for a verbal argument to escalate into a physical fight.

After high school, both boys moved to Austin. Andrew arrived first and established himself. Trey left Texas after college and lived in a far off place called New Hampshire. When he finally moved to Austin, he settled into a house that Andrew was sharing with his friend, Doug. The first time we visited, Butch and I were amazed to see them living peacefully together in the same room discussing who was to pay which bill and when. They were actually cooperating. Now in their 40’s they are good friends, depending on each other, confiding in one another, leaning on each other for comfort and advice. Butch and I are gratified knowing that communication doesn’t depend on us. They communicate outside of our organized family times and include their younger brother as well. (It’s a little unsettling when we realize they talk about us!)

Now for the significant events. In January, Trey was living in Argentina. He emailed us that he had separated with his partner of 11 years. He was devastated. We were all devastated. He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. However, in a few days we Skyped–the greatest invention since sliced bread–and learned more details. Trey had already been preparing to return to the US and live in Texas. So he had that process to keep him busy. Then a trip to Antarctica before finally leaving South America. As a parent, it is a helpless feeling to see your child, even an adult child, in pain. Trey, all alone in the box with the table turned: it is not so funny and the terrified thing is not his little dog but himself.

In the meantime, Andrew was experiencing his own significant event. In late January, he encountered some legal problems. He faces criminal charges that could result in prison time. The weeks since then we have been focused on helping him resolve the issues and rebuild his life. His living situation became impossible so he moved back home. Andrew’s significant event came right on the heels of Trey’s significant event; there was hardly time for Trey’s news to sink in before we were off to help Andrew. Both boys in a box with terrifying things that aren’t trying to leave. They’re trying to stay.

Trey also moved home and stayed with us for about three weeks while he got things arranged to move to his new home in Marfa, Texas. The brothers were back together again and ready to help each other. Trey encouraged Andrew and Andrew encouraged Trey even lending a hand in Trey’s move. It’s a long drive to Marfa, 8 hours pulling a trailer, an opportunity for deep conversation attempting to get the terrifying things to leave the box.

The thing about significant events is not so much the event itself but the result of the event. Not the result you can see; the result you cannot see. For Trey and Andrew, the result is that both are beginning new lives. Trey is facing a life without his partner. He is grieving and making a new, different life alone. Andy is also facing a new life, a life that is completely different from the life he had before. He is also grieving all that he has lost. His new life is a little slower in developing and is a little more difficult to build than Trey’s. But he’s making progress nonetheless.

Separated by 11 months and yet entwined by significant events, not twins but good brothers. The terrifying things will leave the box. The brothers will be left, connected by love and honesty and comfort. A significant event.

New Year’s Resolution – Done

Done. Finally. I have finished cleaning out my files. For the last three, no, four years, my New Year’s Resolution has been to clean out my files. It’s sad to say, but my files consist of only six drawers. You’d think that taking four years to clean them out, I must have ten five-drawer filing cabinets. It  has taken me this long to get it done, because for the majority of the time I haven’t even worked on it. Procrastination. However, I’ve tried to be more discerning about the papers I decide to keep and file them right away. So the in-going side of filing has been a little more organized than the out-going side. Extra-sad to say that it’s about time to start at the first drawer and do it all over again. Good grief! Will the madness ever end.

There is a website that I found several years ago when I was beginning to feel the need to get my house in order. It’s called FLYlady.net. Much of what I learned on the website and started to incorporate into my house-organization lifestyle has been forgotten. However, I did pick up two especially useful hints for organizing that I”ve found can be applied to almost anything that needs to be done in life. One is “baby steps” and the other is “You can do anything for 15 minutes”. For instance, applied to cleaning out my files: I would take a big load of files out of a drawer and put them in a plastic file box. That was my goal for that session, to get through just those files. It was baby steps. If I only had a few minutes, I would do what I could for 15 minutes or even just 5 minutes. This kept me from feeling like I had to do the whole job at once. It felt good just getting something, even the smallest bit, done. The fact that it took me four years to get through with the job was not a result of trying to do too much at one time; it was a matter of becoming overwhelmed when I forgot about baby steps and 15 minutes.

Of course, files are paper and lots of it. Some paper needs to be kept; some paper can be recycled and some paper needs to be shredded, obliterating whatever was recorded on the paper. The basic goal of cleaning out my files was to get rid of paper while at the same time figuring out what must be kept and then organizing it in the most efficient way. One of the things that needs to be kept is Explanation of Benefits for our medical insurance. The most efficient way to handle them is to clip them to the doctor’s bill; however, that’s not always possible. So they build up. Even before I started this project, I knew I had a lot of them. It surprised me to find out that I had some from last century. What to do with them? How long should they be kept? In comes the good ol’ internet. I googled it and found that EOBs should be kept for only 2 to 3 years. One site suggested scanning them to alleviate filing the paper. What a great idea. So I wrote myself an EBO policy: keep two previous years along with the current year, scanning them as they come in so that eventually I’ll only have scanned ones. No more paper! And peace of mind knowing I made a good sound decision about something that is necessary to keep.

As I made progress through the file drawers, I realized I needed to face some facts (other than the procrastination thing, but I’ll do that later). There are some things I need to get over and stop hanging onto. I needed to get over all the photos of decorating ideas I had clipped from magazines What was I thinking! Never would I put some of those objects in my house or use those colors. Out, out ridiculous photos and articles and things-to-do that belonged to the person I used to be twenty years ago. That made room to file photos and articles and things-to-do that reflect the person I am now. That’s OK. It was done in a methodical fashion with thought. I didn’t just stuff in more paper because I didn’t want to make a decision which is what got me into the filing mess in the first place.

Another fact I had to face is that I am not the designated keeper of records for every committee I’ve ever served on. Cleaning out those files resulted in lots of shredding and paper for the recycler. Besides just clearing out the paper, my soul felt cleansed. It was like taking off an old smelly coat. I felt liberated. I let go of that self-imposed designation. No one has ever come to me and asked what happened ten years ago on the “Best Fundraising Event Ever” committee or on the “Endless, Thankless Work” committee. Never. Furthermore, I don’t think it’s going to happen in the future. When my biography is written, that part will just have to be left out.

Ah-h-h! Open my file drawers now and you’ll see neatly labeled folders that have plenty of wiggle room in the drawer. No more smelly coat! From now on it’s baby steps and 15-minute timer and good decisions about paper.

Now, what’s the next New Year’s Resolution on the list?

Do You Care?

I am a member of Toastmasters which is an international organization designed to help members become better leaders as well as better communicators. In an effort to improve our vocabularies, at each of our weekly meetings the Wordmaster selects a Word of the Day. Each time members speak they are to use the word. When the Wordmaster introduces the word he or she tells the definition and uses it in a sentence. Today, I am playing Wordmaster and I have a Word of the Day for you. It is “care”: a simple word packed with meaning.

Definition:

Noun 1: suffering of mind, grief; 2 a: a disquieted state of mixed uncertainty, apprehension, and responsibility b: a cause for such anxiety; 3 a: painstaking or watchful attention b: maintenance <floor-care products> 4: regard coming from desire or esteem 5: charge, supervision <under a doctor’s care> 6: a person or thing that is an object of attention, anxiety, or solicitude

Intransitive verb: 1 a: to feel trouble or anxiety b: to feel interest or concern <care about freedom> 2 : to give care <care for the sick> 3 a: to have a liking, fondness, or taste <don’t care for your attitude> b: to have an inclination <would you care for some pie>

Transitive verb: 1: to be concerned about or to the extent of <don’t care what they say> <doesn’t care a damn> 2: wish <if you care to go>

Three Examples of Care:

Example 1: After church, my husband, Butch, and I went to a local restaurant for lunch. It’s one of those places where you order and then sit down. When your order is ready, they call your name and you pick it up at the counter. They were busy, however, as we waited in line, we noticed that there were lots of tables open, more than enough for the people in front of us.  We ordered, got our drinks, turned around and there were no tables at all. No tables! There was one large party–probably friends from the same church–who were using three tables pushed together. They had all finished their food and were sitting there talking. My husband slowly walked around the restaurant. No tables. The problem was that people in line behind us had gotten tables before ordering their food and one of those was another large party who had pushed tables together. Butch and I sat on the patio where it was chillier than we like for outside dining, but we persevered.

Diners, care about other diners who are coming in behind you. If you see that they don’t have a comfortable table and you’ve finished eating, get up and offer your table to them. Care about the people around you, even if they are strangers.

Example 2: I have made a decision to stop reading articles in the paper–yes, I’m old-fashioned, I read the printed paper–or on the internet regarding the sequestering, budget, and deficit battles between the Democrats and Republicans because it raises my blood pressure each time. I can feel my heart rate increasing and my breathing quicken. It is not healthy. Not only is my reaction to the stories not healthy, the fighting among our elected officials is not healthy. The Democrats pushed for sequestering because they thought that would force the Republicans into doing what they wanted and the Republicans agreed to sequestering because they thought that would force the Democrats into doing what they wanted. What happened to having a civilized conversation, maybe over a cup of tea or a frosty mug of beer or even in a smoke-filled room. No conversations, no give and take, no negotiations. Just coercion and blackmail. Is that any way to run a country? Is that any way to run a relationship with fellow Americans?

Senators, Congressman, President Obama, your lack of care is putting me in a state of anxiety and apprehension.  Do you feel any interest or concern for your fellow citizens? They elected you for the purpose of passing meaningful, negotiated legislation that demonstrates care for all citizens? Do you care more for people or ideology?

Example 3: In these weeks prior to Easter, our senior pastor, Trey Little, is leading our church in reading The Hole in Our Gospel written by Richard Stearns.  As part of that emphasis, a video was presented titled Jamaa.(Click here to view the Jamaa video.) It is based on the true story of two orphans living in Kampala, Uganda, whose parents died of AIDS. Besides excellent acting and stunning cinematography, it is a gut-wrenching story. The film asks the same question to the characters in the story as well as to the viewers.

Do you care enough to let your heart be broken by the plight of these children and hundreds, perhaps thousands, like them? Uganda is on the other side of the world from the US and yet the children represented in Jamaa have been placed in our care as much as if they lived in our very homes. As richly, even extravagantly, blessed residents of the planet Earth, we are to care for them.

How did you do with the Word of the Day? Did you learn anything new about the word “care”? It is a simple word packed with meaning. It is a word that calls thinking, feeling people into action. What do you care about? How will you care today?

Must Be Lent

The sign at the local barbecue joint is advertising “Fried Fish on Friday.” That means only one thing: Lent.

I went to a Baptist church when I was growing up and we didn’t observe Lent. However, I had lots of friends who were Catholic. I’d hear them discussing what they gave up for Lent: chocolate, dessert, meat. Since I didn’t understand what Lent was all about, I couldn’t understand the giving-up-something. I figured if they gave up something then they must think that something was bad for them and they should never have it. Otherwise, why would they give it up?

Then I became a Presbyterian as an adult and we do observe Lent. Now I understand that Lent is the 40-day period that begins on Ash Wednesday and concludes with Easter. The focus of Lent-observers is on prayer, penance, sacrifice and good works in preparation for celebrating Easter. Fasting is used to demonstrate self-examination and self-denial. Giving up something is part of the fasting. Duh! I should have figured that out.

What does Lent mean to you? Is Lent part of your normal spiritual observance? Or is it a strange, unfamiliar tradition as it was for me?

While you’re thinking about how to answer those questions, listen to the story about the original Woodpile Kitty and the lesson she taught me about Lent. This link will take you there: Lesson About Lent. If you have been a reader of this blog for a while, the story may be familiar. I told it in the post titled “Road Trip: Detour, Part Three. Sorry for the repeat, but it’s become my theme story. That’s why this is the Woodpile Kitty blog.

The video is on the website of mmLearn.org which is a service of Morningside Ministries. The website was created and designed for caregivers, both those who work in care facilities and those who care for loved ones at home. “A Lesson About Lent” is one presentation in their Prayers for a Caregiver series. Give it a listen. I hope Claude’s story will inspire and encourage you as it has encouraged me.

May you hear the voice of Jesus during this Lenten time of penance and reflection.

Going to the Big Guy

I have a little kitty named Frank. He is about 9 months old, so he’s not that little. A better description is that he’s young. He has an extremely fluffy tail and distinctive orange stripes on his sides. Tufts of hair curl out of his ears like a bobcat. He really is a beautiful cat. (Since I had nothing to do with it, I can say that and not feel like I’m bragging.)

Frank came to live with us when he was four weeks old. He was sitting in the middle of the street when a woman almost ran over him. He was covered in burrs. She took him to our veterinarian’s office where they cleaned him up.  They knew we were looking for a kitten so they called us. One look and we fell in love. Being four weeks old he had to be fed every four hours. And also being four weeks old he had to be coaxed to go to the bathroom by rubbing his bottom with a cotton ball soaked in warm water. I knew mama cats licked their kittens to clean them, but I did not know they licked them to make them go. You learn something every day.

He got his name because he toddled across the kitchen floor with his legs stiff like Frankenstein. As he grew, it became obvious that his stiff-legged walk is due to some abnormality in either his hips or his knees. His snout is also a bit short. Maybe that’s why his mama abandoned him. She knew he had some things that would make it hard for him to survive in the wild. Stiff legs and a short snout don’t matter when you’re an inside cat. All manner of abnormalities are possible to live with in the ease and safety of a house.

Immediately, we noticed that Frank has an attraction to paper. For the first few weeks he was with us he lived in the kitchen. When we would crumple up a piece of paper to throw it away, Frank would turn his complete attention to the sound. We’d throw the paper on the floor. He’d bat it around and chase after it until it was as thin and limp as a tissue.

Frank's Fascination
Frank’s Fascination

Since he was so young and no mama to lick him clean, I had a routine of bathing him. He loved it. Being in the water didn’t seem to bother him at all. I’d blow his fur dry, wrap him in a towel and he’d fall asleep, just like a real baby. That was our first clue that he likes water. Once he got big enough to have the run of the house, we noticed that he had a fascination with the toilet. He’d put his paws on the toilet seat and watch the flushing action–we call it a swirly. The bigger he got and the more agile, he would run into the bathroom when either my husband or I would go in there. He even followed our friend Larry into the bathroom. Frank gave him quite a start when he came up between his legs to watch the action.

These are the cute things Frank does. But he also does something that is not so cute: he bites. As a kitten we thought he’d outgrow it. And besides, his baby teeth weren’t sharp enough to hurt. As his adult teeth came in and he got bigger and stronger, it ceased to be cute. The first thing we tried was a spray bottle filled with water. That didn’t seem to be the deterrent we were hoping for. We added vinegar, just a little. That worked better. We used it so much that Frank cringed when he even saw the bottle. We left the bottle unattended a couple of times and he hid it. Unlike Frank, we learned our lesson quickly. A dog-trainer friend suggested saying “Baa!” in a deep, loud voice when he bites. It works by distracting him from the biting to the sound. So we tried that and it works sometimes. But not always. Not as consistently as the vinegar.

Finally, I decided to pray about it. I felt like Ralphie in the movie A Christmas Story when he tried everything to get the “Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle” on his Christmas list. He expressed his desire to his mom and his teacher. Then he thought of the big guy, Santa Claus. Like Ralphie, I had tried everything I could think of. Then I remembered THE big guy, God. He made Frank. He’ll know what to do. He can make him stop biting.

So Frank has a regular line on my prayer list right up there with my husband and my kids. I pray for him when it’s my turn to bless the meal. I pray for him when I’m petting and cuddling him. (His saving grace is that he can be very affectionate.) I can’t say that there has been a miraculous change; but he is getting better. I say that all the time and Butch makes fun of me. But he is getting better.

Sarah Young in her devotional book Jesus Calling, suggests that once you ask God for something, you should not ask again. After making the original request, instead of asking again and again, you should simply thank him for working to answer your prayer. Well, I’m not so good at the thankfully waiting thing. I’ve asked and asked. I’m waiting, trusting (and in the meantime asking again) that God will change his creation named Frank.

I really do need to work on that thankfully waiting part. Perhaps some divine vinegar would help.

We Need More Women Like This

Have you ever had a time when something you’ve puzzled about just clicked into place?

I had this happen on New Year’s Eve at a memorial service for my favorite Sunday School teacher. Now, I had a lot of Sunday School teachers. My family went to church every Sunday: Sunday School and church (that’s what we called the worship service) so there was a lot of competition for the favorite. This teacher was my favorite not because she was the wittiest, although she was witty, or the prettiest, although she was pretty, or the coolest (no, Mrs. Kallina could not be described as cool). Mrs. Kallina had a characteristic that was far above all of those traits. Mrs. Kallina cared.

I was a freshman in high school when I was in her class. I came from a very dysfunctional family. One of our symptoms was that we kept secrets. I can still hear my mom say things like “Don’t let the neighbors see you do that” or “If the neighbors knew you did that, what would they think”. Now I suppose that we did have some neighbors who were interested in what we did, but mostly I think it was my mom’s own fear of not being good enough or not being accepted that caused her to say things like that. So as a 14 or 15-year-old kid, I had a lot of fears and kept a lot of secrets, because I thought that if people knew fill-in-the-blank then they wouldn’t like me or approve of me or whatever the imagined consequences might be of their finding out.

This was the girl who sat in Mrs. Kalina’s classroom and admired her and hung on her every word and wanted to be like her in every way. Now that I’m all grown up and have a lot of experience under my belt, I am sure she knew what was going on with me. Mrs. Kallina knew my mom and dad.  She was a wise woman and was particularly plugged in with God. But she never said anything to me about any of this until the next year when I was a sophomore.

Even though I was no longer in her class she sensed something was wrong. And something was wrong. I was having trouble figuring out about boys and dating and how to go about all of that in a healthy way. One day she called me and asked me to come over to her house. I did and we sat in her living room. I didn’t understand it at the time, but she was reaching out to me. However, all that echoed in my head was “What would the neighbors think?” or, in this case, “What would Mrs. Kallina think?”. So I didn’t open up: “Everything was fine, no problems at all”. She gave me a little book called God’s Will and Your Life. I admired her so. I was embarrassed that I wasn’t doing life right. I didn’t want her to know. And I didn’t want God to know either. Of course the reasonable thing to do was ignore the book.

At her service, those chosen to eulogize her spoke of her prayers and what an integral part of her life praying was. I realized then that she had been praying for me when I was a young teenager. I knew deep in my heart that was how she knew something was going on with me, something I needed help with. And I wouldn’t, or couldn’t, open up. How different my life might have been if I had talked to her! And then God reminded me that without her prayers how much worse my life would have been. How many more mistakes might I have made if she had not been praying for me? Her prayers protected me.

One of the eulogizers said “We need more women like Mrs. Kallina”. Yes, we do. More women who pray, who care, who reach out. More women who change and protect lives by quietly praying and reaching out to those they pray for, acting on the promptings they experience in prayer.

With the help of Mrs. Kallina’s prayers, I managed to struggle through my problems and grow up. I married the man I have been married to for 43 years. I began teaching teenagers in Sunday School just like Mrs. Kallina. When I was a young adult, I had an opportunity to tell Mrs. Kallina that she was my favorite Sunday School teacher and that I was trying to be just like her. She smiled her lovely smile and shook her head. I had embarrassed her. I didn’t know then what she had done for me simply by praying for me at my most confused time. What I owe her will not be known this side of heaven. I have a feeling that when I tell her when I see her in heaven, she’ll just smile her lovely smile and point to God who, of course, is the one who worked in her and in me to bring about his purposes.

Yes, we need more women like Mrs. Kallina. Women who will pray for children who are the least, or lost, or lonely. Thank you, Mrs. Kallina, for all you did for me.

Immanuel

Sadness has fallen over our land since last Friday and the tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut.

Over these last few days my thoughts have wandered to the days when my three sons were in kindergarten. I imagine what I would feel if this tragedy had happened to them. I know I would be full of questions: what, how, and, the biggie, why. I would want to know did my child suffer, was he scared, did he know what was happening and the danger he was in. And I would want to know where was God.

When I read the news accounts and see the photos, my sadness is overcome with numbness; numbness because of the massive amount of grief and loss parents, brothers, sisters, grandparents and neighbors are feeling. How can a parent continue in the face of such loss? There is only one way I could continue and I was reminded of it yesterday in church as one of the pastors prayed for the children, parents and community and invoked the name of Immanuel, God with us, an ancient name for Jesus.

That first Christmas 2000 years ago began months earlier with a visit from the angel Gabriel to Mary. He told her that she was going to have a baby and he would be called Immanuel which means God with us. And so God broke through into humanity and came to earth as a tiny, helpless baby. That doesn’t seem like the plan the God of the universe would devise. Surely with his power and might he could come up with something more spectacular. Nevertheless, a baby was born and he was Immanuel.

Shortly after he was born, wise men came looking for him. They tipped off King Herod that a new king had been born and they wanted to know where he was. Herod’s chief priests suggested that they try Bethlehem where the prophets had predicted the Messiah would be born. Herod, enraged by this threat to his throne, ordered that all male babies younger than two years old be killed. And so, one night soldiers rampaged through Bethlehem murdering little babies. God was with Mary and Joseph and Immanuel and they had already fled to Egypt.

Jesus Immanuel grew up just like any other child would grow. He became a man and experienced everything we experience except that he didn’t sin. He was sad and grieved when his friend Lazarus died. He experienced fear and questioned God when he was facing his own death. He felt God pull his presence away as he hung on a cross, suffering toward death. Immanuel leaned on these experiences on Friday in that school with his arms around those little children.

We ask why terrible things happen, especially when it happens to little ones as innocent as kindergarten students. We will probably never know the reason, or at least a reason that makes any sense to us. What we do know is that we live in a world tainted with sin. More than tainted. It is a world in which sin proliferates. It is a dark world. Only when God breaks through, Immanuel, is the darkness lifted and the light shines bright.

We are sad. Parents are grieving. And this is right and appropriate. Take solace in knowing that Immanuel is here. On Friday, God was with the little children and brave adults as they met death. Today God is with us. Tomorrow God will still be with us. So  through our tears we sing:

Praise God from whom all blessings flow; praise him, all creatures below; praise him above ye heavenly hosts; praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

God is with us. May you know his presence this Christmas season as we celebrate the birth of Immanuel.

Letting Go

As I write this, Christmas Day is fourteen days away. That’s just two weeks. Yikes! Christmas is approaching and my expectations, as well as my anxiety, are rising.

How about you? As Christmas approaches are your expectations rising?

In Webster’s the first definition of expectation is “a looking forward to; anticipation”. It’s the excitement of seeing how all of the preparations we’re spending so much time, attention and money to get just right unfold. The second definition is “a looking for as due, proper, or necessary”. Applied to this time of year, one definition tends toward the positive and one definition towards the negative. When we get so wrapped up in the expectations of Christmas as those things that we think are due, proper or necessary our expectations have a tendency to cause anxiety and, in the end, dissatisfaction.

Think about it for a moment. What are your expectations of Christmas? What are the due, proper, and necessary things that mean Christmas to you?

Here’s my list:

  1. Buying the perfect gift for everyone
  2. Preparing a scrumptious Christmas dinner, from scratch, of course
  3. Glittering decorations adorning inside and out
  4. A tree beautiful enough to grace the pages of Architectural Digest

This is only the beginning. It is due, proper and necessary that I fit in church services and family traditions all the while maintaining family relationships that are happy and peaceful. Does any of this sound familiar?

My list of due, proper, and necessary expectations will certainly not result in expectations of looking forward to Christmas in anticipation. I know. It was my modus operandi for years. And then I learned about the art of letting go.

It happened when my both of my parents lived in an assisted-living facility for dementia patients. The first Christmas they were in the Haven, I kept thinking “It’s not supposed to be this way.” This was not what I thought was due, proper or necessary as far as Christmas was concerned. Slowly it dawned on me that this was Christmas even though all the things I thought made Christmas weren’t going to happen. I wasn’t going to plan and prepare the Christmas dinner with my mom. There would be no unwrapping of gifts around their tree.  Trying to accomplish all the due, proper and necessary expectations kept me from enjoying my parents on their level. It caused even more stress in their lives than was necessary. All of the things I had taken for granted about Christmas I had to let go.

Your life may also be at a place where the things that make up your expectations, those due, proper and necessary things, are not going to happen as they used to. For whatever reason our lives are not as they were when we first started developing Christmas traditions. Some of those reasons are:

  1. Managing at least two extended families, yours and your spouses and perhaps ex-spouses
  2. The addition of a child either by birth or adoption
  3. Parents are older or passed away
  4. Children are grown up and have families of their own
  5. Married children have additional extended families
  6. We may have family relationships that are strained or estranged

We can try to keep all the expectations of due, proper and necessary and experience stress and strain, lack of Christmas joy and reverence, or we can examine our expectations and let go of some of them.

This suggestion may be shocking to you. Everything about our culture shouts that expectations of what is due, proper and necessary is what Christmas is all about. From Black Friday, to secular Christmas music to Christmas movies and TV shows, Christmas is the time when problems are solved, the perfect gift is just waiting under the tree, and all strained family relationships heal in one magical day.

But what about that first Christmas, the one that we have taken a snapshot of and memorialized in our nativity sets and crèches? The idyllic night of angel songs and visits from exotic wise men?

Even Mary and Joseph had expectations that they had to let go. Read the accounts of the Christmas story in Matthew and Luke. As you read make a list of all of the expectations the Holy Family had to let go. You will see that first Christmas in a new way.

What are some of the expectations you should let go? What gets in your way of enjoying Christmas in all its love, joy and peace? Are there things that get in the way of your family’s enjoyment of Christmas because you can’t let go?

 Dear friend, you are held in the Father’s hand. Let go of those things you think are due, proper, and necessary, the things that come between you and what he deems as due, proper and necessary. As you do, may you experience the warmth of his hand cradling you, drawing you through Christmas and ever closer to him through Jesus, the one this season is all about.

Merry Christmas!

You can hear more about letting go by clicking on the link below. It will take you to the website of mmLearn.org, a service of Morningside Ministries. mmLearn.org is designed for caregivers, both those who work in care facilities and those who care for loved ones at home. In their Prayers for a Caregiver series I recorded “Letting Go“, a devotional upon which this blog post is based. Give it a listen and let me know what you think.