Are you glad to see 2018 in the rear-view mirror? Me too.

Hindsight really is 20/20. Though  we don’t need to revisit everything, it’s good to look back. But, before we question our history, it’s good to question ourselves.

Are we looking back to move forward? Or are we ruminating and wishing it was different? Are we asking questions so we can grow? Or are we looking for blame?

We want justice. We want answers. All of them. Now.

It’s human nature to ask “Why me?” or “Why did this happen?” But, they zap our energy and take us to the edge of crazy. We are angry and anxious because we don’t always find clear-cut answers. And sometimes we find answers we don’t like.

With all the suffering around us, it helps me to ask another tough question, “Why not me?” Why shouldn’t I have my share? If we accept blessing in our lives, we accept hardship. We learn how to live well when we learn how to suffer well.

Whether we’re looking back or we’re right smack in the middle of difficulty, the right questions aren’t always easy but they’re so freeing. We reclaim our peace and power and come out fighting.

That, my friend, is what got me through last year’s darkness with most of my body and brain cells intact. I finally started asking better, healthier questions. And I just. kept. asking.

Why me? Why is this happening?

“What can I learn?”

Through our toughest trials, God promises to grow our faith if we let him. This side of heaven, we may never know the “whys” of our circumstances. And that’s okay. When we let go of our need to know, we open up to the new. More peace, new wisdom, and deeper faith.

I know convention says it’s a bit late to contemplate a New Year’s resolution. But, God is not boxed up in tradition or cultural opinions. He’s on his own timeline. As are we.

It’s never too late to claim our comeback. And keep on claiming it. 

So, 2018, while we say good riddance, we thank you for what you teach us. Life’s hard lessons give us more empathy, humility, and endurance. We are less self-reliant, less fearful, and more faith-filled.

Oh, and thanks 2018, for giving us a bit more moxie. We don’t like how we got it but we’re not going back to who we were or how things used to be. We surrender to the something new that God is doing in us and for us. We are moving forward. We’re claiming our comeback.

A New Year’s Prayer

May God make your year a happy one!
Not by shielding you from all sorrows and pain,
But by strengthening you to bear it, as it comes;
Not by making your path easy,
But by making you sturdy to travel any path;
Not by taking hardships from you,
But by taking fear from your heart;
Not by granting you unbroken sunshine,
But by keeping your face bright, even in the shadows;
Not by making your life always pleasant,
But by showing you when people and their causes need you most,
and by making you anxious to be there to help.
God’s love, peace, hope and joy to you for the year ahead.

~Anonymous~

 

 

T Rex Photo: https://pixabay.com/users/aitoff-388338/

 

 

 

 

Eleven days ago, I read this at my mom’s memorial service. We know life is short. It’s a gift. Embrace it and the people in it.

Hug ’em while ya got ’em.

For Ramona Mae

Some of our best memories are connected to gardens. Outside or in the house, Mom could grow anything.

Born in the bedroom of a South Dakota farmhouse, some of her best memories were running the open fields with younger brothers and sisters. That was back in the day when it was okay to hit gophers over the head to keep them from ruining your crops.

Weather permitting; Mom was outside from morning to evening. She loved to plant and tend and grow. We picked radishes, tomatoes, cucumbers, and green peppers. With the sunshine still in them, we made sandwiches with mayo, salt, and pepper.

We have memories of family picnics at the Palisades Park and camping on the Mississippi river. The beach camping stopped after child number six was born.

Mom loved putzing around woods and along the riverbanks. She found treasures in earth, and plants, and trees. We collected scads of rocks, drift wood, feathers,  lotus pods, cool weeds, pine cones … anything that spoke to her soul … and as much as we could carry.

She took home rocks and fireweed on the plane from Alaska. And rocks and cacti on the plane from Texas. And more rocks from her pilgrimage to Bosnia. Many of Mom’s treasures are now in our homes and flower gardens. And even in the homes of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Mom could also sew anything. She made shirts, quilts, and dresses for Easter and Proms and weddings. And she loved denim. She not only wore it, she used it to sew hats, purses, patchwork overalls, and quilts for her grandsons.

Mom painted some remarkable oil paintings and did all sorts of crafts. Recently, we found her bottle cutter from the early 1970’s. She used it to make candleholders out of brown beer bottles. We gave them to our friends at birthday parties. Mom—like most strong women who lived through the Great Depression and World War II—saw a second or third use for almost everything.

In her last months, Mom didn’t always remember our names right away, but she knew we belonged to her. She’d get that sly smile and say, “They all start looking the same after a while.” We told her if we had six kids, we’d get them mixed up too. “It’s okay, Momma. It’s our turn to take care of you.”

When asked how she was doing, sometimes she’d say what her momma said, “I’m still kickin’. Just not as high.” We enjoyed seeing her feisty side. We teased her for ordering chocolate ice cream for breakfast. That sparked a mischievous grin.

Momma glowed when people complimented her shiny-silver, braided hair or her painted fingernails. They weren’t chipped and stained from the soil anymore, but she liked them painted fiery red by the CNAs at the nursing home.

Our dad’s favorite flowers were red geraniums. They bloomed outside Mom’s window in a raised bed next to her bird feeders. Though Dad’s been gone 26 years, Mom’s eyes still lit up when she saw red geraniums. September 28^th would have been their 70^th wedding anniversary.

We’ve been saying goodbye for a while now. We are tired and the days are difficult. But, as we continue to let go in bits and pieces, we hold on to what Mom passed on to us.

We find peace in the earth and plants and trees. In the simplest things, we see her legacy. Fresh tomatoes, paintings on drift wood, recipes for soup and pickles. We find memories in rocks and lotus pods and scraps of denim.

We find treasure in family, fresh air, and sunshine. And we are grateful.

Thank you, Momma. See ya later.

Ramona Mae (Johnson) Bradshaw

11/3/28 ~ 9/29/18

“October is my favorite color.” Not sure where I read that, but yes. Year round autumn is fine with me. It’s the weather and the colors and the Halloween memories. Like rummaging through mom’s big box of old shoes, purses, dresses, fedoras, and flannel shirts.

It’s fun to dress up and pretend on occasion. But, do we wear costumes in our everyday life?

Is performance and approval more important than who we are on the inside?

We can wear religion like a label. “Hello, I’m Baptist … I’m Catholic … I’m Lutheran … I’m Jewish.”

We can grip it like a ticket. It’s punched and done and we’re bound for heaven. Or perhaps our faith is more like fire insurance, because we’re not quite sure where we stand in our relationship with God.

Is it enough to obey rules and do all the “right” things?

Nicodemus had an inkling there was more. He was a prominent member of the Jewish ruling council, the Supreme Court of Israel. Pharisees were all about power and performance. They wore faith like a costume.

Jesus called them “white-washed tombs, which look fine on the outside but inside are full of dead men’s bones and all kinds of rottenness.”

Whoa.

As you can imagine, Pharisees didn’t like him much. They watched him close and asked loaded questions. All that talk about the Spirit and healing people on the Sabbath messed with their religious system and comfortable habits. They liked to keep things surface level. They liked hard-set rules. They kept people in line.

But, Nicodemus wanted more than rules and religion. He wanted relationship. So, he talked to Jesus, one-on-one.

Jesus told him it’s good to believe his miracles and teachings. It’s good to obey rules and do what’s right, but “Unless a person is born from above, it’s not possible to see what I’m pointing to: God’s kingdom.”

Born from above? That’s a bit weird.

My friend, we are designed with a body and a spirit. Our spirit is part of our original creation. Until we allow it to be reborn, part of us is hiding—is dead actually. Without spiritual rebirth, we aren’t fully alive. Our relationship with our Creator is incomplete and we feel something’s missing. We won’t have the abundance Jesus offers.

At his last meal with the disciples, Jesus told them, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Then he made a promise.

“I will ask the Father and he will give you another Advocate [helper], who will never leave you. He is the Holy Spirit, who leads into all truth.”

The next time we see Nicodemus, he wraps Jesus’ body in spiced linen and puts him in a tomb. Pharisees weren’t supposed to touch dead bodies. But, Nicodemus had shed his churchy costume.

Who he was on the inside was more important that who he was on the outside. He gave up surface level religion and chose a soul-deep, one-on-one relationship with Jesus. He decided to stop being defined by power and performance and a need for approval and live in that spirit-to-Spirit connection. Nicodemus was reborn.

And  he was free.

New, abundant life.  And it all began with a simple conversation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Peace comes not from the absence of trouble, but from the presence of God.” ~A. Maclaren

My grandson, Braden, was nine when he taught me a new color.

“Come on Meema, you gotta see this! But hurry or we’re gonna miss it!” Holding my hand, he led me around a row of pine trees and pointed to the sky beyond the cornfields.

The sunset was spectacular. We spoke in whispers.

“Braden, what color is that?”

“Oh, that’s porange. You know, pink and orange.”

We were quiet. The world was quiet.

And the huge, fluorescent porange ball floated through gray-blue sky and sank behind a black tree line.

The Jewish Sabbath begins at sunset Friday and ends sunset Saturday. Jesus grew up observing this weekly invitation to stop and enter God’s rest.

Maybe our daily rhythm is backwards. What if we started tomorrow, tonight? What if, instead of going to bed with a head full of worry, we start a new day?

An hour or so before bedtime, I disconnect from screens. I find a quiet space away from phone, TV, computer, and people. Separated from noise, I center in. I slow my brain and breathe deep.

Sometimes I read. Sometimes I pray. Sometimes all I can do is whisper Jesus’ name. This nightly rhythm saves my sanity.

My friend, when we’re exhausted, it’s easy to let the day mess with us. Work, finances, family stuff. And our mistakes often overshadow all we did right.

So, we need to intentionally interrupt our thoughts and center them on our truest source of peace.

When noise, demands, and distractions are gone ~ there’s just you and Jesus.

Wrapped in His compassion, we have courage to review the day. To see where we rocked it and where it rocked us. We soak in the good we did and accept what we can do better.

Soaking in grace, God reminds us we’re actually doing better than we think. We are human. We are forgiven. And it’s a brand new day.

So, in the morning, before our head leaves the pillow, we remember to hold on to this rest. Because the world didn’t stop its frantic pace and all our problems did not get fixed. But, when we  stay connected to God’s presence, we rise above it all.

Though the world is loud, God is not silent.

He often speaks in whispers too. From sunset to sunset, we are invited to watch and listen for the sacred to descend.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace … Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” ~ Jesus, in Matthew 11:28-30