There's only 24 hours in a day

 

There are days and dates which seem to make life a little harder. We usually experience a pause for memories, tears and longing. It makes me wonder if that is why God only allowed twenty-four hours in a day. Maybe to keep us moving forward. There is something about the date that haunts us all- the years we will miss, the conversations we no longer have face to face. 
Today it has been forty-seven years since daddys passing. It blows my mind I have lived so much longer than he did. That I am now more than a decade older than he was at the time of his passing, yet I learned so very much from him. He taught me to fish, showed me how to wet a hook, he taught kindness, tolerance for what was different, respect and most of all unconditional love. Almost fifty years later I still retain the belief system he instilled in us. He was not perfect but he was a man of integrity, and fiercely loved his people. I always imagine I will see him first when I get to my heavenly home. I still remember the solid, unwavering tone of his voice. 

I am thankful we had mama much longer, I hope she knew how much she was loved. She would have been 100 years old Sunday. Both dates were tossed close together by life, intertwined forever in my head. I believe I say this every year, but God has been so gracious to us. After mama's passing beautiful memories flooded my mind. 

After she died, this memory came to mind as I drove home from the hospital. She needed to bake a cake. She was waiting for family driving in for a couple nights & she always did her best to feed them well. I remember the half panic, half laughter on her face when she could not remember if she added the salt or not. It's such a tiny amount of salt, will it be noticed?    But the perfectionist in her could not leave it alone. I tasted the dry flour mixture w/my finger- no salt flavor. She tasted the flour, and we began to giggle. We continued our tasting until we were out of clean fingers and her head dropped back and she laughed so hard she could not catch her breath for a few minutes. We did add that 1/4 teaspoon of salt and she baked that sour cream pound cake. More perfect than the cake everyone enjoyed was what God allowed, those memories of better days. Those years before suffering the ravages of her brain betrayal by dementia. During the last couple years of her life, I feared I would never remember those good days, the wonderful childhood days and adult days with her. Times I had not thought of in decades continued in a constant rotation over the next few weeks, in my head. Is our heavenly Father not completely amazing? He gave us this ability to remember, while often painful it still soothes and sustains us. While all these years later I still miss her terribly, I am forever grateful for the time we had together. 

Then, just the other day this memory came to me. Mama used to say pretty regularly, "you can't have anything nice when you have children", I thought it was a bit contrary at the time. (Then I grew up, had children and knew exactly what she meant) She only meant with children in the house, things just happen. One of her children had a knack for breaking things, more than the other two, but I won't call him out here. He flipped over the end of the couch to show me what he could do and busted her floor lamp. If memory serves he did it twice, to two different lamps. He jumped up (like when he played basketball) and touched the kitchen ceiling and knocked the cover off the light-all over the kitchen floor. There was also the "innocent" cutting down of the hedges bushes, she did not want cut. How did that happen? She used those hedge bushes to whip our behinds. (Save your gasps in disbelief, it was a different time then. If you got the switch to your legs, you likely had earned all of it w/your poor behavior.) 

She also always kept slipcovers on the furniture. These were not the slipcovers you see today. They were absolute perfection made by a wonderful lady, Mrs Higgins, who lived near relatives of ours not far away. You would have thought they were the original fabric because she fit them to your couch with precision, took all the pieces away and in just a few days would call and say, "put your sewing machine out, in case I need to make adjustments." She would come put the covers on. She and mama would critique her work and make any adjustments they needed, most often they were perfect. Mrs Higgins made draperies for the first home Don & I built, she was much older by then but still did amazing work.

Because Mary had three rambunctious children, she threw sheets over the chairs and the couch to protect her investment. Mama was not interested in wasting money, she was very frugal. Yes, those sheets stayed on the furniture most of the time. If a car came rolling up the hill, she would go to comb her hair and que one of us to grab the sheets off the furniture. My daddy hated those sheets. He would complain and argue they would not stay straight and squared when he sat down. They bunched up and it certainly bothered him. (which explains a great deal about my ocd tendencies.) Mostly,  he sat down in his chair mumbling under his breath about the stupid sheet. Once he grabbed that cover off and started to sit down when mama gently stopped him. She simply said "look at it, Fat", she meant the sheet. (Because most all mothers and wives know, our husband & children all say the same thing, "I'm not dirty, I'm perfectly clean".) So, daddy held the sheet out and looked it up one side and down the other. He then gently spread it back on the chair and sat down, without another word. I don't remember him ever complaining about those sheets again. 
Today while thinking of them both, I am reminded this is not our forever home. Thank you Lord! Truth is, I don't remember either mama or daddy complaining about much. They were well satisfied with life. One twenty-four day at a time. 

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.