I Miss Those Days

 

I miss those days when they were little and a play telephone made them happy for weeks. She packed it in her bag with her stuffed animals when she went to her granny or mamaws house, where she could reach me.  
I miss those days when I walked out in the cold and picked up some of the carrot and raisins we had left for reindeer, because they always checked. I actually miss the Tinker Toys in the floor. 
I miss those years he got little cars and "men" from his latest phase. (When school started back I had to pat him down because he stuffed them in his pants to take to school.) Skinny little boy w/bulges all around his body, as if I could not see them. I had to hold a straight face until he got in the door at school. 

I miss those days when we baked on Christmas Eve until we were punchy. They were all still at home and it was wonderful, we laughed & laughed. I would announce we were also making "nougat" and they all groaned! It always amused me. (my almond nougat recipe made 125 pieces (or more) and they had to be individually wrapped) They hated wrapping it but they didn't mind eating it.

I miss those days when they fought with the cousins over who would have their granny spend the night. She acted like she didn't care- but she loved them fawning over her. She always read to them on Christmas and watched every Christmas cartoon they wanted to watch, played games and she made over whatever they had made or colored for her. I miss the laughter coming from their rooms when she was there.

I miss the little handmade gifts my children had for me. Precious little treasures they created because they had no money. I still have many of them tucked away safely. They are dated and named by who made them, for my grands one day to see. I hope my children see them again and remember. Maybe we weren't perfect parents but we tried our hardest. I hope they remember that. Especially because they will make mistakes too and it's important to know you put forth your best effort.

I miss those days when they took money to "santa shop" and I prayed they shopped for someone else and not themselves. In they came w/a single pencil or paperback book for themselves and gifts for others. Success! Thank you Lord, they do have caring hearts for others.

I miss those days, walking in the back door at mama and daddys house and smelling all the fabulous food she toiled over. She always had a favorite dish for each of us. I miss the fire in the fireplace my daddy built. (Sometime he built a fire and we had to open the windows because it was so warm but daddy thought everyone should have a fire burning on Christmas.) I miss those days when we made it home in the evening, lit the tree and listened to the low din of their day, as they laughed and played w/their gifts. Those days are hard, sometime chaotic and always needed to be followed by about ten hours of sleep. But they were the best days ever. If you are there I hope you can realize how fleeting they are and soak up every minute.

I pray this year, you have the Christmas day you need. It may not be perfect, everyone can't be there but relax, they won't remember whether it was perfect or not. You can visit with them another day and on that day, it will also feel special. See your old people today, it's important. I miss those days with all our family here, there are seats no longer taken. The children are at their own homes and we will see them all over the next few days but most of all, it's the celebrating of Jesus. It hasn't changed, that is our constant. Oh, what a gift.

Broken but still useful

 

I pulled this mixing cup from the kiln yesterday. My first thought was disappointment. The glaze ran and it's stuck to the "cookie" I used to protect my shelf.  I will figure out the why another day. The cookie did it's job though, it kept a glaze mess from my shelf. Now, how to get it off without destroying it. . . This is requiring thought as well. I have several options and while I am tempted to simply take my hammer to it and begin chipping away, I think that would certainly destroy my hard work. 

I say this all the time but there are so many parallels to pottery and your faith life. 

We make a plan, carefully thought out and execute the plan but often times life (as in pottery), it doesn't work out as we planned. Where was God in the plan? Did I consider or pray on the outcome before I made it? Was I listening for his guidance?

To some it may seem trivial or even ridiculous but to a Christ follower and believer, we have the opportunity to choose each day whether to go out on our own (free will in play) or seek guidance and trust in what or how the Lord directs us. 

I find I always think of my daddy when I create pottery. Because he always said, "we do the best we can at the time with the information we have, baby. When we know better, we do better." He fully believed that and I am thankful for the lesson. Because it allows me to be satisfied with the end result, to rest in my decisions.  Daddy never doubted his prayed over, thought-out decisions. He seldom did things haphazard and without giving them great thought. Yet, if something went wrong, he tried to teach us to learn from it as he did. That, in and of itself is a gift. 

We also have to consider, sometime we can do everything right and things still do not turn out like we would want or desire. That's just life. Life is not always fair. There are still untimely deaths, still cancer, still pain, sorrow and disappointment. Sometime life is plain hard. 

Even after several protocol based attempts to remove the cup, it failed. It broke where I had hoped it would not. Isn't that just like life?  

                                   

How do I begin to analyze what went wrong? Well, I'm getting older and that means there is a smidge of wisdom, some experience always helps. My ability (sometime in question, if I'm honest) and there may even have been a momentary urge again to just toss it in the trash. Back to wisdom- when I glazed this piece, I followed the same protocol from wedging the clay to the final product. Did I get in a hurry? Did I count my coats of glaze like I usually do? Maybe I added and extra coat by mistake. Possibly it was too close to a heating element. Clearly, something did not go as planned. 

Look in the cup, what do you see? 

Pieces chipped away on the bottom outside but it sill holds water, it still stands straight up. I can use it. It may simply hold brushes or be my wet sponge pot by my pottery wheel. It's all in how you look at it, just as daddy said.

I know this- God still uses us in our broken state. In Acts 9, on the road to Damascus we see an example of this with Saul. God cleans us up and clothes us in righteousness, gives us insight and laser focus. He sets our feet on the right path. We simply must be willing to follow in obedience.

We each have a choice, every day. Will we choose to listen and be obedient even when we feel beaten down and broken? The last few years have been hard, struggling with health, new diagnoses, watching others struggle with life problems, but we know we are not alone.  I used to sit in the embrace of my earthly fathers shoulders. He was strong, unwavering and stood behind me no matter what was ahead. How much more does our heavenly father love us and stand at the ready to protect and guide. 

We simply have to give up our will and lean into his. 

 

A Wonderful Weekend

 I've always said the Lord allowed pottery in my life when I had no idea what I was doing or how I would do it. I had NO intention of starting any kind of business, I only wanted to enjoy the days I have left on earth and I knew it was what I was supposed to be doing.

Once the Holy Spirit starts working on you, it becomes so much more. Through much prayer and contemplation I stepped out. I trusted because I knew he would meet me there. He equips those he calls, you know. You will be broken, unequipped (you think) but then he opens the doors you need, he sends the people you need for encouragement, he sustains you and strengthens you. It is not always easy but the process is necessary. Because he grows us from those deep places of insecurity and doubt. The peace that has come from this journey following two separate kinds of cancer has blessed me in ways I never imagined.

I happen to believe, there is no true peace without God. True peace is a holy process. It is often a journey filled with raw emotions and pain but only through prayer, the surrender of self and the power of God is peace found. The world will not understand your peace. You will have to get over that.

We enjoyed a busy weekend at the Helena Buck Creek Festival. It could have been a long, tiring weekend but it wasn't. We had some amazing conversations with people who shared the love of Jesus right there in my booth, surrounded by pottery. The young ladies who joined us from Gospel Light Baptist were precious and I was quite proud to see them sharing the love of Jesus, and plan of Salvation with others. I was also encouraged by the reception they received from many young people. (I watched from my seat, as young people gladly spoke with them as they shared their godly message.) I met a young couple and we talked about cancer. He is two months out and all clear from Leukemia. Praise God! I discussed with a young father, how the world is changing so quickly and we have to continue to set goals and standards we believe in, for our children. Let them run in a field and play, let them be children but train them up with a firm foundation in Christ. I love meeting parents with their shoulders squared to raise their children in the love and admonition of the Lord Jesus Christ.

It reminds me, as children we had great adventures. We played outside most days. Cartoons were allowed on Saturday but only for a little while, then mama shoo'ed us outside. "It's hot" I would say. "Sit under a tree" she would say. There was no nonsense in Mary Lou's household. I soon got tired of sitting under that tree and went off to play. There were forts built, bicycles to ride, tree climbing & creating fairy houses around the roots of huge Oak trees. We enjoyed many tree house adventures, high in the old Beech tree. A big rope swing hung in the front yard and daddy checked it each spring to make sure it was acceptably strong. We also worked. We worked in the garden and got everything in for some great eating in the fall and winter. By most standards today, we would have been considered poor and a garden was a necessity in the south. I never felt poor. Summer vegetables are a short season and when they come in, it must be done right now. My brothers were older and worked harder than I did. I was the corn silker. Daddy would say, "I'm sorry baby but you are the most patient with the corn and you do it right." I hated doing it right but I did it. Understand, daddy did not have to tell us twice. It was understood what your role was because he made it clear the first time, he encouraged me with his compliments and he trusted me to do the work. I must have cleaned the silk off thousands of ears in our kitchen sink each summer. Then they went in the freezer. Daddy always reminded me how well I did, when we ate that corn in December or January. I cherish the memories of those carefree days of working the garden and tending things with mama and daddy. Sitting around and shelling peas and listening to them tell stories of their childhood.

This weekend- Yes, we talked about pottery. I can talk all day & night about pottery but when God allowed me this ministry, I knew He would sustain me in ways that I might not even understand. Just like working in the garden as children, I did not always understand why I had to do it but I trusted my daddy. We were fed from that garden, where we sacrificially gave our time and energy under his and mama's direction. I loved to work alongside my parents and brothers. I will never forget those days and the lessons learned. The benefits of the time we gave and the love we shared is immeasurable. The message of the gospel is the same. We are called as his children to give, to love, to grow, to go out and share the love of Jesus and salvation through him.

I also pray that if you do not know my Jesus, you step out to find him.

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

Philippians 4:7

If only we had someone to trust with our decisions?

 I create pottery from stoneware clay and recently I made this bowl. While most often I know what I want it to be and it comes out close to the vision in my head (or even better), this one did not.

Sometime your hard work doesn't come out like you planned. It is lacking in color or something distorted in the firing, it's not what you envisioned and it's quite disappointing. I'm a smidge stubborn and I might make a second one even and try to make it my vision again. What you can't see in the picture is a pink cast in the glaze. I am not crazy about pink.

This bowl, well. . . It's not my color choice. It's okay, just a little "off" for my taste. It doesn't happen often but when it does, I have a choice to make. Leave it alone or add some color and refire it. Either way, I will be satisfied in my decision. I pray over everything in my life, so I prayed over this last night and I know what I will do now.

I know people, (we all know people, maybe you are one?) who have trouble making decisions. I was raised by a daddy that said, "make the best decision you can at the time, with the information you have. When you know better, you will do better." I've followed that thought process all my life. In other words, trust your decisions. Daddy and mama gave us confidence in their rearing and encouragement to trust our decisions. They presented us with a working example all our lives of decision making, by trusting in Jesus and make our decisions based on prayer and study of Gods word. I hope they knew how solid their example was because I've felt it all my life. Like anyone else, I don't always make solid decisions~ I'm human and make mistakes. All the time, I make mistakes and missteps but I usually find in hindsight I did not trust where I should have been trusting at the time.

Have you ever lost sleep over a decision? Isn't life just like that? We have a decision to make and we fret over it, or we lose sleep thinking and pondering on it. Personally, I don't think that's what Jesus wants us to do. I believe, we come to him with our petitions in life and lay them down. Do you know someone or are someone who has a tough time with decisions? As a younger woman I didn't always trust my decisions and then looking back on life, I realize that was a time when I stepped away from trusting Jesus, yet again. See, that's the key. It's the entire answer, there isn't another one.

Matthew 11:28 says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest". This is suggesting we humble ourselves (admit where we were wrong, admit we can't do it alone, admit we are uncertain) and hand it over to the one who can. Jesus. Why do we make it so hard? Jesus is saying, let me bear that for you. Let me hold it and know what to do, how to handle the problem, give you solutions. 

You may be thinking, but you are talking about a piece of pottery!? 
Yes, and I trust Jesus with everything. There are no decisions with him that are too small or too large.
I find so many comparisons in life with Christ and my pottery. Are we not refined in the fire, just like the pot? It's a process of purification in life as in that kiln for my vessels. A human vessel is one who is willing to be used for Gods glory in their life. 
We don't learn many life lessons when things are going great. It's when it all falls apart and we are on our face, not knowing which way to turn that we find the answers in Jesus. Scripture tells us when we don't even know what to pray, God intercedes through the Holy Spirit. I've known times when my only utterance was the word Jesus, over and over. God is always faithful. 
I remember being younger and giving the Lord a problem, then taking it back (because somehow I thought I could do better) then giving it to Him again, taking it back again. 
As I matured in Christ I have realized I can never solve the problems, I need him daily, sometime minute by minute. 
I am reminded today of the love of my earthly father, he would have laid his life down for me at any time. How much more does the God of heaven and earth love me? My mind can't contain it.
Here's what I also know today, just like the bowl I made, I will be useful and serve a purpose. Unlike the bowl, I have a choice each day (free will) to reject Christ' urging through the Holy Spirit (even if it's uncomfortable) or accept the challenge set before me. It all comes back to trust. 

I will trust today and I hope you will too. 

Gifts & treasures

 

When I was a child I was never a "baby doll" girl. I think I had one baby doll all my life and she stayed dressed and in a drawer in my dresser. I didn't have much need for her. I did have a Barbie doll however. I loved that Barbie doll with her coifed hair, blue eye shadow painted on and tiny waist. I remember those teeny-tiny high heels that went on her feet and how difficult it was to keep up with them. 
The Christmas I received the Barbie, I also received 2 separate outfits. Mama and daddy were quite conservative in their spending and I knew my having those two extra outfits were likely all daddy. He had a soft spot for his little girl. I'm pretty sure I could almost here my mother saying, "getting the doll is enough, Fat" and he probably talked her into the clothes. 
I played with that doll all the time, I took her to my friends homes and we played Barbies. 
One of my friends, being an only child had several Barbie dolls which I just drooled over. 
Even though I may have coveted her dolls just a smidge, I still loved my doll. 

If you remember those days, the clothing came on a cardboard cutout and it usually had the shoes clipped into the cardboard, maybe a soft drink bottle or handbag with it. It made a complete outfit and suggested a 'day in the life' of Barbie. 
Well, a day in the life of Leisa at ten or eleven was without more clothes for the doll. I believe it was another year before I received the carrying case. It was shiny black plastic, with pink and purple writing on the outside in big swirly letters, saying Barbie. I spent time with sewing scraps from mama, trying to make my own clothes for her. It was primitive at best but did reveal my love for sewing, like my mother, my Aunt Lora and my Mamaw. 

I often went to spend the night at my MaMaws, my daddys mother. I would take my little bag with a change of clothes and my Barbie w/her single hot pink high heels. Mama would warn me to keep up w/her shoes, before I walked out the door. Those darn shoes were so hard to keep up with. They were micro small and locked on her high heel shaped feet but if you bumped them, the slipped off. 

My Mamaw had her sewing machine sitting right in the living room surrounded by this huge sewing table. Well it might not have been huge, it seemed huge to me as a child. Many days or nights she would sit and sew and I would either stand at her side and watch or contently sit in the old squishy couch by the big floor stove and listen the the hum of the machine. It was the old kind with the hand wheel you had to turn to get it going. I can still hear that sound in my head. Mama had a Singer like that too. Mamaw did lots of different kinds of sewing, mostly as I grew she made quilts but she taught me how to embroider. 

She had this quilt square almost as big as the living room, that pulled up to the ceiling, until the ladies came over to sew. Then she would have me drop it down by it's cords and they would gather chairs all around it and begin working on the quilt that was attached to it. I often stood right beside mamaw because I was fascinated by what she could do. She would instruct some ladies, they must have been learning. Others just kept working because they were seasoned quilters. There were world problems solved around that quilt square, prayers, laughter shared and many stories. It was about the only place I heard her tell stories of when she was very young. It was as if the quilts just pulled those memories out for her to display. Then they went away when the sewing stopped. She was a very talented woman and tough as nails, she raised eight children-five boys. She could cook up a storm, she worked hard all the time and she sewed beautifully. 
I would organize her quilt squares for her next quilt. She taught me how to stack them correctly where each quilter could grab her next piece easily and start sewing without worrying if they were in order. She would have them all stop and survey their work on occasion, looking at the entire picture. Mamaw gained perspective on the project by taking in the entire picture. I witnessed many quilts made on that old square. 

It was quite unlike Mamaw to do things after dinner. She usually settled in early and was in bed early but this overnight visit she sat back down at the sewing machine. She had colorful little quilt squares in her hand. Some of those squares were purchased and sometime they were washed and ironed from old hog feed or cow grain sacks with their tiny print flowers on them. She told me to choose a couple pieces of the same color. I picked out two squares that were white with little cutout circles with stitching that created flower shapes. She told me to bring my Barbie to her. I was beside myself with excitement.  
I stood beside her and watched as she took out her soft fabric measuring tape and measured carefully. She cut the fabric I had chosen and in no time she had made me a little dress for my doll. I had never seen her do this kind of "tiny" item work. You know that Barbie waistline was so small but it fit her perfectly. She hand attached little snaps down the back of the dress. I was so proud of that little dress. 
Looking back, I know her arthritis often made her legs and hands ache. I knew she loved me. I had many times watched her heat an old iron on the wood stove, then place a folded towel on her legs and put that hot iron on the towel to ease the pain. She would rub that iron up and down that towel until she got some relief. Making that little dress was likely a whim and she must have felt good that day, no arthritis pain. It was a moment with her I never forgot. 

I can still see her sitting at the sewing machine working on my Barbie dress. I can see her hands laboring with love over those quilts she made, along with other friends, trusting they knew what was to be done. Her stepping back to survey the whole picture. 

It reminds me that my problems are small, that I only see a small snippet of the problem but God sees the whole picture. It is necessary for me to trust and know He desires the very best for me, he always will. He desires I stay close(obedient) and have confidence(trust) in his care. He brings me joy in ways I could not have imagined, he comforts me when I fall. I am never alone. He uses others to minster to me as he uses me to minister to others. 
He is an amazing Father. Thank you Lord for grandmothers who shaped us. 

Bragging on Jesus today (and medical update)

 

I almost posted this on social media just to let people know their prayers were being answered. Then I decided to have a better record of what happened I would create a blog post instead. 

A little background. Almost twelve years ago I had a knee replacement on my left knee. I had waited almost eighteen months to have it as I was helping my brothers care for our mother. I walked those eighteen months with the help of an unloading brace. I could barely walk without the brace. It was a miraculous piece of lightweight technology. By weeks end, I would be getting to hobble and limp but a quick visit by to see Mr Don Green at DonJoy (he would make adjustments to the brace) and I walked out standing tall again. Finally, three months after mama died I had total replacement on the left. 

Since childhood and through childhood illnesses our doctor used to tell mama we had the strongest central nervous systems he ever saw. Our bodies bounced through illness that made most children gravely ill. Our bodies bounced back from breaks, strains and sprains. We never knew why and I often wonder now if it was simply a praying mother. 
Fast forward to adulthood and we all three seem to have some auto-immunity issues. Some worse than others. Mine seem to be minor but they are there. My doctor explained that even in mild form, it is sometime as if your own body is fighting you. I have joint pain, swollen joints and I choose to keep going because, well. . .  I refuse to take every drug they offer. I have always felt that God supplied every need we have on this planet. The cure for disease is here, we simply have to discover it. Yes, and sometime that may mean medication but not now, not for my symptoms which I would describe as moderate at worst. 

Back to that knee replacement over a decade ago. After surgery it immediately became evident that something wasn't right. It didn't want to bend. (Later I would explain to Don, it felt like someone had gone inside my knee and bound it tight w/tape and rope.) What I would learn with therapy was I had budding scar tissue and adhesions. As my surgery was done, my body felt invaded and began to form adhesions which was causing me problems in bending and extending the leg. An average therapy session meant stretching and manual manipulation of the knee only to get less than a 65 degree bend. This went on for months and months. They tried contraptions on my leg that I slept in, my leg was bent to the highest I could tolerate and then held there. I was supposed to sleep with this thing on my leg. I could not even turn over in bed with it on, without the help of my husband. Then a manipulation under anesthesia (MUA) and they got 114 degrees. Praise God. The manipulation was on Friday and I was sent home w/a machine to bend the leg (CPM) I was on the machine all weekend. By Monday when I went back to therapy, adhesions had already grown back. They were floored! As one therapist after the other tried to manipulate my flexion on the knee, massage it, move the kneecap... they were just amazed. They said, "this can't happen."  "I've never seen anything like this in my life." 
Finally in three or four weeks when we got my leg, through great pain and work to almost 90 degrees, I asked the doctor to release me and let me live my life. He was disappointed and wanted to clean the knee up again and try again. I said no. 
Remember the scene in Sleeping Beauty when Maleficent covers the castle with thorns. That's how I imagined my knee. They grew from Friday to Monday. 

It's been almost sixteen months since I ran from a neighborhood dog and leapt to my porch, tore my meniscus from the bone, had a repair, non-weightbearing for 3 1/2 months. I was bone on bone when we decided in January to do the replacement on the right knee. Here's the difference this time though. 

I decided it was time to trust Jesus completely. We all struggle with trust and we leave things in Gods lap, then we take them back (as if we think we can do better), then we leave them again. Not this time. Lord, we've done this once and it didn't work out very well, is what I thought. This time, I'm leaving it in your hands. When someone asked me about my knee and told me they were praying, I asked them to pray specifically for no adhesions and no scar tissue formation. Everyone complied. They didn't all understand why but they said that's what they would pray for. 
I ask my church family to pray for no adhesions or scar tissue. I asked on my social media pages for the same. Friends agreed.
Four weeks ago today I had the right knee done. Yes, it hurt and it continues to hurt. The nerves are refiring and the muscles are so very tight, due to almost a year and a half of not doing anything. It is expected. However, from the very first day there has been no feeling of binding up or tightness that felt anything but normal. I have not felt the tight roped in, bound feeling. For those that may believe the first knee replacement was just a fluke. I have other joints operated on that also formed scar tissue. I have a thumb that is stiff and no longer bends after a cyst was removed. It bent during therapy but in the weeks to come grew tissue. It's almost completely straight. 
God answers prayers all the time and if we come to him with our requests, He does what only God can do. I will not tell you it's been a breeze, that wouldn't be true. (God never said life would be easy, he said we would not be alone, if we trust him.)  It's a tough surgery to recover from. The therapy is grueling but after three weeks of home therapy and last week my first full week of outpatient, I have a 90 degree plus flexion on the knee. They measured it at 95 at one point. I will keep pushing but most of all, I will keep trusting in the God of heaven and earth. Some say, why do you trust a God you cannot see? Because I have felt and experienced Him move in my life. I have felt him close when I thought I could not go on, he has carried me when I could barely breathe. I have experienced his divine protection and I feel his presence with me daily. I rise most days with a song in my heart before my feet hit the floor. That can be nothing but Jesus. Pray without ceasing, we are told in scripture. 
When you say your prayers today, remember he calls us to come boldly to the throne and make our requests known. He desires an intimate, loving relationship with you. Please let him in. 
If you want to talk Jesus, just ask I can tell you over and over how he has blessed me.