LESSONS I LEARNED FROM MY MOTHER

Today is Mother’s Day. My mom is out of town, on vacation in Florida with two of my sisters and my brother. We girls had a great time last Sunday, though, when we all went out to eat at a beautiful restaurant with lots of atmosphere and good food. We had such a nice time that we’re thinking we may make that our new Mother’s Day tradition – leave the husbands and kids at home the week before Mother’s Day and treat ourselves to something special!

It turns out that Bob suddenly went out of town, too, this weekend. Julie and David had a problem suddenly pop up in their house and Bob drove down to Shreveport, Louisiana to help them. Their house is still on the market and David has to leave this Thursday for Montgomery, Alabama. Of all times to discover a leak going on inside the wall behind their shower! David has to take down part of that wall, fix the leak and then repair the wall, including dry wall, stucco, and paint. David's never done most of that and Bob felt that since he happened to have a four day weekend off anyway, and they are in such a tight spot, he should make a quick trip down there to help him. They’ll have only two days to get it done, make it look "perfect" and get the house back on the market again.

So now it’s just Robbie and me here on Mother’s Day. I’m sure I’ll get calls from Laurie in Ecuador and Julie in Louisiana, and hopefully from my hubby, too! I’ll play the harmonica for Robbie and he’ll give me lots of lovin’. It will be a fine day because I am glad that Bob could help the kids, my mom can take a nice vacation and my girls are right where the Lord wants them!

I have a terrible memory when it comes to my childhood, teen years, or even my children’s childhood days. There are certain things that stick out, though, in my mind. Many of those things are lessons my mother taught me (or tried to teach me) either by word or example.

Mom tried to teach me that naps are a good thing. She’d lie down beside me at naptime and fall asleep herself—or so I thought. I would ever so carefully try to slither down the length of the bed and sneak away—only to feel a hand grab my ankle and pull me back. Never could figure out how she did that. To this day, I still don’t like taking naps.

My mother tried to teach me to like rutabaga. That never happened, and never will—not for me or any of my siblings, either! Her idea was that at least we ought to try different vegetables. Why we had to be exposed to rutabaga so many times, though, I do not know! As hard as she tried, I never learned to like rutabaga, or brussels sprouts or squash, either, for that matter!

Mom tried to teach me to make a perfect pie crust. Nobody makes a better pie crust than my mother! The pie-making genes skipped me, though, for no matter how many times she tried to tell me, or even show me, I never did learn to make a pie crust like hers. My girls both learned that talent from their grandma, though—and so did their husbands! At least we are assured that Mom’s apple pies will continue through the next generation, even if the gift does not come through me!

My mother tried to teach me to cook anything. The day after I got my engagement ring she said it was time I learned to cook. The first thing I was supposed to cook was something simple—tacos. Well, three hours and four pounds of hamburger later (I burnt --and I mean burnt -- the first two pounds) I finally had supper made. That was when she informed me that I could learn to cook on my husband.

I actually did learn many other things from my mother, though. Mom was a good whistler, and I’ve followed in her footsteps, whistling as I go about the house, or singing as I do my work. She would be the first to tell you she wasn’t a great singer, but she loved the old hymns and often sang as she washed dishes or did the other housework. My mother was naturally an optimistic and cheerful person. She had a sense of humor and would laugh first of all at herself. I’m the same way.

My mother was, and still is, a reader. Now that she has more time to herself, I would say that she is a voracious reader. She has a library of thousands of books, and her friends and family regularly borrow books from her as if she actually were a real lending library! I learned my love for books and reading from her, and I am so happy to say that both my girls and all my grandchildren have acquired that same love.

And then there were so many other things she taught me that would become lessons for life…

My mother taught me to praise the Lord in everything. Cheree and I were in an accident once when we were riding home from a winter retreat on the church bus. It was snowing hard when the bus tipped over going down the entrance ramp to the highway. No one was seriously hurt, however, and we were all taken to a nearby coffee shop to wait for another bus to come and get us. I called my mother to tell her what had happened, and as I did, I started to cry. “Why are you crying?” she asked. “No one was hurt. You should be praising the Lord!” I’m sure she must have been shaken a little by my phone call, but she did not let on to me if she was. It was a lesson she would teach me – to praise and thank the Lord always.

She taught me to love and trust the Lord. From the time we were very small she made sure we got to Sunday School, even when it meant riding the bus with us herself. She was always an example to us of faith and faithfulness and frequently would remind us of Romans 8:28, “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” There is no better teacher than a role model, and my mother was that, indeed. I have always looked upon my mother as a woman of strong faith and a prayer warrior and hoped and prayed I would be a woman of faith like her.

I always wanted to be a mother like her, also. There was never a doubt that she loved us and would do anything she could to help us, but she believed in discipline, too, and we could be sure if we messed up she would be there to correct us so that we didn’t soon forget. I remember a time when I was 13 years old and I was spending the night at a friend’s house. She had done something wrong and her mother was quite upset with her. She came in and in a sweet, gentle voice said, “Now, dear, you shouldn’t have done that!” She gave her a tiny little tap with a fly swatter. My friend laughed in her face and made fun of her. I remember thinking then, as a very young teenager, how wrong that was and how I wanted to be a mother like my mother. She might spank or yell, but she disciplined because she loved us and wanted us to grow up into responsible, good people. My friend messed up her life, and as a result messed up her kids’ lives, also. My mother’s discipline paid off.

She taught us to love the Lord, and she taught us to love others, too, by her example. She is always a thoughtful friend and steps in when she sees a need with which she can help. She is generous and caring and always there for her family, and friends and neighbors, too. Her compassion for others taught me a lot even before we got Robbie, and helped to make our hearts open to having a child with special needs.

There are so many other lessons I learned from my mother – lessons on forgiveness, responsibility, perseverance, doing the right thing, standing for your convictions… She was the heart of our home, as children, and is still the frosting that holds us all together! (Bet you thought I was going to say glue, didn’t you?) I know she’s set aside photographs and special mementos for each of us to have some day. There are traditions she began in our family that still are a part of our lives and will continue through the next generations as well. Those things are precious and treasured heirlooms, but the things I will cherish most, and hope to pass on to my own children and grandchildren, are the lessons I learned from my mother.

Proverbs 31 describes The Virtuous Woman. It says, “Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come. She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all. Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates." (Proverbs 31:25-31) That’s my mother, and I am rising up and praising her in the gates today!

Thank you, Mom, for the lessons learned.

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Update -- The day turned out to be even nicer than I thought it would and I wanted to share it with you!

First of all, the plumbing problem at Julie and David's was not what they thought it was and they did not have to tear into a wall after all! It was a cracked drain pipe in the shower that was easily fixed in one day with no destruction to the house. That is a huge praise! Bob got to enjoy the day with the kids and will head for home tomorrow. Julie was honored in her church as "Mother of the Year" and they said some very nice things about her, presented her with a beautiful plaque and flowers, etc. I'm so glad Bob got to be there to hear that!

Then, I got to WebCam with Laurie's family this morning and will WebCam with Julie's family and Bob tonight. That's even better than a phone call!

Mom called from Florida a couple times and it was good to talk to her, too. I can't wait for her to read this blog!

The biggest surprise, though, was that my nephew Steven brought lunch and a card over for me and stayed to visit quite a while bcause he knew I was going to be alone on Mother's Day! Isn't that so sweet?

What a happy day!

REJECTED—BUT NOT DEJECTED

I received another rejection letter this week—my second in my quest for publication. {{Big Sigh.}} I don’t handle rejection well, I’m afraid. My self-confidence plummets. I start believing that I am delusional; just kidding myself that I can really write. My determination to pursue publishing my work slips away and I want to just forget it and concentrate on writing for the pleasure of it and for the two dozen or so young readers who already love my books.

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I confess, I was dejected when I got that letter of rejection—for about eight or nine hours. I cried. I moped around. I told Robbie, “Mommy’s sad today,” hoping for a little sympathy from him, I guess. I didn’t get it. I didn’t get any sympathy from Bob, either—just a pep talk to keep at it. I didn’t really want to hear that just then.

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Maybe I would have handled it better if I hadn’t received a critique, as well, from the associate editor who had read my manuscript. At first I was excited that she had sent it. I don’t believe that is the norm—they usually send a letter that says thanks, but no thanks, and that is it. She had taken the time to actually critique my work, however, and send me a list of suggestions on how to improve it. I don’t have a problem at all with constructive criticism and trying to learn from it. The more I read it, though, the more disheartened I became.

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The manuscript I sent was for the first book in my Noble Heart series. (For those of you who have read the first edition of this book, I had added two more chapters and pumped it up a bit all the way through in this revision.) The editor didn’t have anything positive to say about it. The plot, she said, needed more tension. The major criticism of the characters was that some of them were too flat (i.e. "Noble - Just as his name implies, Noble's heart is in the right place and he always says and does the right thing. A perfect person doesn't need to grow; therefore Noble is a flat character.")
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I understood most of the criticisms, and plan take them to heart and work on those problems. I had reasons and had made a conscious decision, however, in some of those areas to write the way I did because I wanted the plot or character written precisely that way. For example, I wanted Noble to be "noble" and of high character and a good role model. He did struggle with loneliness and fear in this book, and I thought he did grow in his faith, but perhaps I did not write that part strongly enough. Perhaps the plot did not have enough tension because I don't want a lot of violence in my books. I will have to work on other ways to increase the suspense, I guess. I was not trying to make excuses, but just thinking through the reasons I wrote the characters and plot the way I did. There was actually only one critique that I thought was off base and that was when she said Noble had had only one encounter with his enemies before the climax of the book. That was not true—he had numerous clashes with them before the climax, but apparently she forgot that.
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I know I probably sound defensive, and I suppose I am a bit. Writing a book is like having a child—when you’ve given it your all for months and have finally finished what you think is something beautiful, you’re proud of it and will defend it like a mama bear! So, although I was actually grateful for her critique and hope to learn from it, it was a little hard to take, too.
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As I said, I was down and dejected. A couple things happened later that evening, though, that turned me around. One of them was receiving an encouraging e-mail from another author who has been published. He was the one who had put me in touch with the publisher, so when I finally heard from them, I e-mailed him to let him know about the rejection. He had a number of things to say to encourage me, including telling me about the dozens of rejections he had received. Then he said, “Never let a rejection discourage you. It should challenge you.” That was just what I needed to hear. Then he went on to tell me that the all time best selling series ever written, Chicken Soup for the Soul, was rejected by no less than 49 publishers! I know I don’t have the fortitude to stick to it through 49 rejections, but maybe I could handle a few more, after all.
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The second thing that happened was a conversation I had on the phone with my granddaughter Sara. I had just told her about the rejection letter, and was about to tell her that I was not going to pursue trying to publish that book. Before I could get the words out, though, she said, “Grandma, I am so proud of you that you keep trying anyway to get your work published!” Whoops! How could I disappoint my grandchild, or have her think less of me because I quit? I had to start re-thinking my feelings about this. It lifted my spirits to have her voice such confidence in me, when I didn’t have that confidence myself.
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So, rejected I may be, but I’m no longer feeling dejected. I will pick myself up and try again, if not with this series, then with one of my others. For now, I have to finish the book I am working on before I can get involved with sending another manuscript off. Trying to get published takes a lot of time and hard work—time and effort I need to and would much rather put into writing creatively.
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This experience, though, had me thinking about how often we are tempted to quit when things don’t go our way, or someone criticizes us, or we feel inadequate. My mother used to often tell me that I came from good, strong, pioneer stock. Pioneers who didn’t quit when things got tough, but who pressed on; pioneers whose backbones were made of determination, perseverance and resolve. They shouldered their responsibilities, they fulfilled their obligations, they did their duty. My pioneer ancestors endured the hard times and setbacks, they rose above the obstacles and failures, they did their best and they didn’t quit.
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Those good, hardy genes run within me. I feel the spirit of those pioneers who have gone before me, and yet there are often times when I am tempted to quit. The important thing is not to give into that temptation. The Lord gives us encouragement and strength in His Word when we feel weak and disheartened. We must not quit:
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When things don’t go our way – Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” (NLT) Did it ever occur to us that all these hopes and dreams and plans we have for ourselves may not be the even more wonderful plans that God has for us instead? We wonder why the Lord doesn’t bring us what we want when He has something better in store for us. His plan may not include the worldly acclaim or wealth that we envision as symbols of our success. His plans for us may be humble and small and not recognized by anyone else, but great in His eyes when we obediently and faithfully fulfill His will for our lives.
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To tell the truth, I don’t really care if my books are published or not as long as they are used by the Lord somehow in the lives of the kids who read them. I have felt for some time that, above all, I want my writing to be a ministry for His honor and glory. Oh, the money, earthly success, seeing my name in print in the bookstores and being able to say that I am not only an author, but a published author, would be nice, but they rank far, far below my desire to have my work be a ministry first and foremost. If He wants me to use my writing for Him as a ministry, then it is up to Him how large or small that ministry is. He will open doors if He wants me to reach more people.
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From the time I was a little child Proverbs 3:5, 6 was special to me. It says, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” I don’t know what the Lord has in store for me. I just have to trust Him, follow His path for me and not quit. Someday I hope to hear His words, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant!”
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When we are criticized – Criticism, even constructive criticism, is often hard to take. Our pride may be hurt. Our defenses rise up and our self-esteem goes down. We are tempted to rush to react or respond; sometimes in negative ways. We may even want to quit.
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There are many times when the criticism we receive is unjustified, undeserved or even untrue. I think at those times we just have to shrug it off and remember that God alone is our judge. He knows our heart and our motives. Remember Job and his so-called friends? They had no idea what the Lord was doing in Job's life, or why He allowed all those things to happen, but they sat back and oh, so self-righteously shot off their mouths, giving their opinions and advice. They themselves were just as much a part of the trials Job was going through as the rest of it. It is at those times that we need to simply remember that His Word tells us, “What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31.)
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There are other times, however, when we need to listen to constructive criticism and learn from it. Sure, I was not happy about the list of criticisms I received from that editor, but I would be a fool not to pay attention and try to learn something from them. In fact Proverbs 12:15 says, “The way of a fool is right in his own eyes: but he that hearkeneth unto counsel is wise.” Proverbs 19:20 backs that up, “Hear counsel, and receive instruction, that thou mayest be wise in thy latter end.” Forget the hit to our pride. Learn, grow and go one. Don’t quit.
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When we feel inadequate – This is the hardest one for me to overcome. I have struggled with self-esteem issues most of my life. When you feel that you've failed in the past, when your sisters all have wonderful careers and you are "just a housewife," when you're struggling with weight, etc., it's really easy to feel that you just don't measure up.
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We need to stop comparing ourselves to others. God made us just the way we are and set each of us on our own unique path. His creation (us) was good and His plans for us are good. If nothing else can lift our self-esteem, these words ought to: “How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! How great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake, I am still with thee.” (Psalm 139:17, 18) He is always thinking of us, always loving us. If He thinks we're worth that much, why shouldn't we realize our worth, too? We need to see ourselves the way God sees as—as His children who are of such infinite value and worth that He gave His Son for us. That is precious, isn’t it?
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Okay, this is where I have to confess—I do have an ego! I still burst out laughing out loud sometimes after re-reading something I’ve written for the tenth time. I can still move myself to tears at something I’ve written that tugs at the heartstrings. Boy, if that isn’t egotistical, I don’t know what is! My self-confidence when it comes to writing, however, is fragile. Criticism, or even the lack of any feedback, starts me questioning if I’m really good enough or if I’m just kidding myself. Like a lot of men I know, my ego needs to be stroked a lot. :-) (Just kidding, Honey!) Thank goodness, my grandchildren are really great at that! It is the self-doubt and lack of confidence that brings me down.
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The Bible has something to say about that, too. Philippians 1:6 says, “Being confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” If this truly is a ministry that He has called me to, then I don’t need self-confidence—I just need to put my confidence in Him! He has promised to work in me and through me until His work for me here is over. We are told in Psalm 37:5, “Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass.” How simple is that? Place my work in His hands, trust Him with it, and let Him do what He wills with it!
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We cannot allow blows to our ego, hits to our pride or knocks to our self-confidence (whatever you want to call it!) discourage us from the work He has called us to do! We need to pick ourselves up and get right back to work! Just don’t quit!
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Keep on “keeping on!” Philippians 3:13, 14 says, “Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” Forget about the past failures. Forget about the past successes! We are to reach for the work that God has called us to do; to press on and not quit.

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The pastor I grew up with for over twenty-five years was fond of a poem called Don’t Quit and every once and a while he would pull it out and use it with one of his messages. Lo, and behold—I was able to find it on the internet in about two seconds flat! Here it is. Although I did not write it, it is a little inspiration for all of us from my past:

DON’T QUIT

When things go wrong as they sometimes will,

When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill;
When funds are low and the debts are high,

And you want to smile, but you have to sigh;
When care is pressing you down a bit,

Rest, if you must, but don’t you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns

As every one of us sometimes learns.
And many a failure turns about.

When he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow –

You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out,

The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are.

It may be near when it seems so far.
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit –

It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.

- Author unknown -

COOL, CLEAR WATER

I turned on the water the other day to get a glass of water and was surprised to see the water in my glass was cloudy. For a moment I was confused and wondered if I could believe my eyes. Or had I picked up a dirty glass that had some leftover milk in it? I was sure that was not the case, so I poured it out and tried again. Glass after glass came out cloudy. Ewww—it didn’t look safe to drink. I ran and ran the water, hoping it would clear up, but it did not.

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Then came frustration! I was thirsty and there was nothing else in the house to drink! A few weeks ago I had determined not to buy any more pop or tea until Bob was back to working five days a week. When his work got cut back and we took a big pay cut I had to look at ways to cut costs, as well. I wanted to drop my coffee, too, but Bob wouldn’t let me (probably because he didn’t want to sacrifice his coffee) so I cut down from two big mugs a day to one. I consoled myself at the time with the thought that it would do me good to drink more water anyhow.

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Now here I was, though, with nothing else in the house and the water looking very suspicious! I called Bob and told him what had happened. He didn’t have any answers as to what was going on, but he did remind me that there was a case of bottled water in the basement. Whew! Not only did I have water for the afternoon, but also water for Robbie’s feedings.

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I was still nervous, though, about what could have caused this problem. Was it a problem in our own house that would be expensive and lengthy to fix, or, hopefully, was it a neighborhood problem that, though it might take time to fix, would at least not cost us anything? I decided to call the water department to see if they could shed any light on the situation.

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“Oh, don’t worry about it,” the lady on the other end of the phone told me. “They’re flushing out water hydrants, and when they turn them on, oxygen gets in the pipes and that is just oxygenation you are seeing. Set your water out on the counter for a little while and it will clear up. It’s perfectly safe to drink.”

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I had my doubts. It didn’t look like oxygenation to me. I was right! I left that water sitting there for hours and it never did clear up. In fact as the afternoon progressed the water coming out of the faucets went from cloudy to slightly yellow and cloudy. When I flushed the toilet the water coming in was a darker yellow and cloudy. Ewww! I was so glad I hadn’t trusted that woman’s explanation!

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Finally, after about seven hours, the water began to clear up and eventually we got our nice, clean water back. The whole experience had me thinking, though, about how blessed we are to have good, running water available at the turn of a faucet. Just seven hours without it had me frustrated and even a little panicky. I thought about those people who have been through a hurricane or flood or earthquake and have to line up for bottled water for days or weeks at a time. Or even worse, those poor people in third world countries who barely survive day by day for years because they have no water that is fit to drink.

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I wrote a book a few years back called “The Mystery of the Kenyan King.” At the time I did some research on the lack of clean water in Kenya and other countries around the world. Did you know there are over one billion men, women, and children (more than four times the population of the United States and Canada combined) in over fifty countries who do not have safe water to drink? They live in overcrowded urban ghettos, in refugee camps, and in towns and villages in rural areas of developing countries. Less than 50% of the population in these countries has access to safe drinking water and only 25% has access to sanitary systems. Water is either insufficient, or polluted, or may not exist at all. Many of these people are victims of drought. Their countryside is transformed into an arid wasteland and they do not have enough water to grow and harvest food or to keep their livestock alive. They do not have enough clean water to protect themselves and their children from hunger and disease.

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Just a few hours without clean water drove home the point to me that water is essential for life. I cannot even imagine what it must be like to be thirsty every minute of every day. I cannot imagine how heartbreaking it must be to hear your weakened baby wail for hours at a time because he is hungry and thirsty and sick. I can’t imagine living a life without clean water like a billion people on this planet do.

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We are so blessed. Not only do we have fresh, clean water to satisfy our physical thirst, but we have living water available to us also that will satisfy our spiritual thirst and give us life everlasting. The book of John tells us the story of the woman of Samaria who went to Jacob’s well one day to draw water. She met Jesus there. The account in chapter four tells us, Jesus said to her, “Please give me a drink.” He was alone at the time because his disciples had gone into the village to buy some food. The woman was surprised, for Jews refuse to have anything to do with Samaritans. She said to Jesus, “You are a Jew, and I am a Samaritan woman. Why are you asking me for a drink?” Jesus replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.”

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“But sir, you don’t have a rope or a bucket,” she said, “and this well is very deep. Where would you get this living water? And besides, do you think you’re greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us this well? How can you offer better water than he and his sons and his animals enjoyed?”

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Jesus replied, “Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.”

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“Please, sir,” the woman said, “give me this water! Then I’ll never be thirsty again, and I won’t have to come here to get water.” (NLT)

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Living water, freely given to all who ask so that they may never thirst again. Jesus said in John 7:37 “If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.” I am so thankful to have heard the Gospel of Jesus Christ and been given the opportunity to accept that Living Water. There are billions who have not heard the story of Jesus. Just as a billion or more thirst physically, even more are dying because they have never heard of the Living Water of Jesus Christ.

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I am very conscious every day of the “little things” we take for granted, and thank the Lord for those basic necessities of life that we enjoy without even thinking about it. When I turn on the tap I expect good, safe water to come out. I have a roof over my head, food in the cupboards, clothes and shoes on my body—so much more than billions of people around the world. I do not know why God has blessed me with all the necessities of life when billions barely survive, but I am thankful and praise Him for it.

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I am thankful, too, that in this country we are free to hear and believe and share the Gospel. This week, let us pray especially for those who are not as blessed as we are, either physically or spiritually. If it is in our power, let us give a cup of water in Jesus’ name to someone this week. We can help a missionary bring physical and spiritual water to those who thirst. We can share with our own neighbors or someone in need in our area. Times are difficult for many of us, but no matter what our circumstances are, there is always someone in worse straits than we are. Perhaps we cannot help a lot, but we can help somehow. Jesus said, “Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water…verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward.” (Matthew 10:42)

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A cup of cold water, whether physical or spiritual—an essential for life.

LA QUINCEAÑERA

Sara turned fifteen this week. It’s hard to believe my first grandbaby is a young lady already. In the Hispanic culture a girl’s fifteenth birthday is very special,—a “coming of age.” Many girls from Spanish families have a quinceañera. In Roman Catholic families this would include a ceremony at the church and then a sort of debutante ball or reception. The décor at the banquet hall or home resembles that of a wedding, the girl is dressed up in a beautiful gown, she has a “court” of attendants, and so on. The father dances the first dance with his daughter, and there are other customs associated with the girl becoming a woman, such as presenting her with her first high heels and make-up. The mother will sometimes make a ceremony of putting lipstick on her daughter. The quinceañera signifies that young men may now come a-courting.

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Sara wanted nothing to do with having a quinceañera, and of course, neither did her parents! Her Ecuadorian grandparents and other family members were disappointed, though. They are no longer Catholic and did not care about the religious ceremony, but they would have loved to celebrate Sara’s quinceañera in the manner of their culture. In the end, they gave her a surprise birthday party with only the family. They hired a Mariachi band to serenade her, and her older girl cousin took her out for a fun day beforehand so they could secretly get ready for the party. She and her friends styled Sara’s hair and “experimented” with a little make-up under the pretext of “just for fun.” Her other cousin, Christian, who is almost eighteen, took some phone calls during the party from some of his fiends who wanted to come to the party and meet his cousin, La Quinceañera. “No way!’ he told them. “She’s still a little girl and you’re not meeting her!” Good for Christian! I appreciate him being so protective of my granddaughter!

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I remember so well the day Sara was born. Laura and Fernando had invited me to be at the hospital with them for the baby’s birth. I was to be not only the proud new grandma, but also the videographer, standing in a corner of the room, near the head of the bed. (Laurie was very modest and didn’t want everything taped.) They had opted not to find out before Sara was born if it was a girl or a boy. I was betting on a girl, they were thinking it was a boy. I bought a little girl’s “going-home-from-the-hospital” outfit and they bought a little boy’s outfit. Whoever lost the bet could return their outfit to the store, while the “winner” had the privilege of seeing the baby all dressed up in their outfit. What a thrill when the doctor said “It’s a girl!” She was red-faced and squalling, her nose was a little flattened and her foot curved in from the birth (temporarily), but she was beautiful! She stole my heart from the very first moment!

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I finally left the hospital around dawn and headed for home. I remember driving on a back road as the sun was coming up and a feeling a sense of “heritage” come over me. It was a beautiful experience when I became a mother, but this was something very different. When my children were born, I was focused on our little family. Now, suddenly, I was looking into the future and the generations to come. Bob and I had started something great way back when, and now we would pass on our legacy to our grandchildren and, someday, to their children. Wow! It was so awesome to realize with the birth of that precious baby girl that our lives would continue on down through the generations.

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They’ve got our genes but none of our grandchildren really look like us. Laura’s kids are half Ecuadorian and Julie’s kids are one quarter El Salvadoran so they mostly have dark hair and some of them even have brown eyes. Joshua, though, in personality is a chip off his grandpa’s block. They both have only one mark on the volume dial—loud. He loves to roughhouse and would love to be an outdoorsman like Grandpa, as well. Several of the kids, especially Gabi and Benjamin, are more creative and artistic like me. It is interesting to see as they grow how the genes from the Griffiths and Pratts will emerge. I pray none of the genetic predispositions we have for certain diseases or conditions, like heart disease and diabetes, will ever rear their ugly heads in our grandchildren, but there are some things in our legacy that we will pass on, like it or not.

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We do have a choice, though, in other areas as to what our children and grandchildren will inherit from us. Material possessions, certainly, will include things like our wedding rings, our Bibles, my books, Bob’s mule deer George who hangs proudly on our dining room wall (can you tell I am saying that facetiously?), my piano, Bob’s shotguns, and a few other odds and ends. That’s about it. There will never be a great inheritance of wealth or property to pass on, I’m afraid.

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We have a choice also in the legacy we pass on that is far more valuable than our earthly possessions. Proverbs 13:22 says, “A good man leaveth an inheritance to his children's children.” I pray that our faith and love for the Lord will live on in our children and grandchildren and their descendants. We may live our lives as an example before them, but it is up to each of them to make the decision for themselves as to whether or not they will follow Jesus. I praise God that each one in our family who is able to understand that they need Jesus as their Savior has accepted Him. Matthew, of course, is too young still, and Katie has made a profession, but Laurie says she is not sure if Katie really understands yet. We are praying that they, too, will be saved when they can truly make that decision for themselves. Then there is Robbie who is mentally like a one or two year old. I truly believe he is safe in the Lord and we will see him whole and walking, leaping, dancing, singing and talking in Heaven someday!

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There are other spiritually valuable things I would like to pass on to those who follow in my footsteps, as well. I want them to know that a good reputation and their testimony for the Lord are precious. Proverbs 22:1 says, “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches…” I want them to know that being responsible and trustworthy is important. I want them to be faithful, honest and loyal; generous and compassionate; wise in knowing and following the will of God. I pray that they will not only accept Jesus Christ as their Savior, but that they will also live for Him and serve Him as their Lord and Master. Someday as they look back on the influence Grandma and Grandpa had in their lives, I hope they will be able to say that they are thankful for the spiritual legacy we passed on to them.

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The Bible tells us to ”Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22:6) and “bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” (Ephesians 6:4) We are instructed in Deuteronomy 6:6,7 “And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.” It is our responsibility to train and teach our children and grandchildren in the things of the Lord. He gives each of us free will, though, to choose to follow or not, and sometimes we are disappointed and heartbroken when they don’t follow. If we have faithfully taught them, though, I believe the Lord will bring them back to Himself someday. Psalm 103:17 says, “But the mercy of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children's children.”

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Sara is fifteen now. In just a few years she will be as old as I was when I became a mother at the young age of nineteen. I hope she will have the sense to wait a little longer than that, but nevertheless, suffice it to say, it won’t be too many more years until the next generation in our family will most likely begin. I had a vision on the day of her birth of the generations that would follow in our footsteps, and of the legacy that we would pass on to them. God has been so gracious in giving us the wonderful children and grandchildren we have. We could not ask for better, for each one of them has been a blessing and joy to us. Psalm 127:3 says “Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.” Proverbs 17:6 tells us that “Children's children are the crown of old men” (and old women!) Our children and grandchildren are precious treasures to be cherished as gifts from the Lord. May we be faithful in guarding these treasures and leaving them the inheritance we have from Him that is far greater than earthly possessions and wealth!

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You may be interested in reading the following post, which goes well, I think with this one.

LOOKING BACK AT OUR ROOTS -- WAY, WAY BACK!

I wrote this for our family reunion last year, and since it goes so well with this week's blog LA QUINCEAÑERA I decided it to post it here. If you've read it before, just skip it, but perhaps there are some who would be interested.

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Have you ever wondered about our family tree beyond Grandma and Grandpa Ward? We’re going back 101 years to the year of Grandpa’s birth at this reunion, but what about the people who came before him and Grandma? We G2’s never knew our great-grandparents. Great-Grandpa Clark was the only one who lived to see any of his great-grandchildren in this family—Vicki, Cindy and Becki—and they were just babies when he died. So who were our ancestors, anyway, and how far back do our roots go?

You may have noticed our family history on our webpage, but if you’ve never stopped to read it closely, you may be surprised to find that there are some pretty amazing—even mind-boggling—facts about our genealogy there! Our roots go very deep! Brian, Diane and Aunt Judy researched and gathered facts from many sources, and Brian did a fantastic job of putting it all together for us. This is just a little summary of some of the most interesting facts and people they discovered hidden in the branches of our family tree!

The earliest ancestor mentioned was from Grandma’s maternal side of the family. John Robey was born in 1455 in Castle Donington, England. That was 553 years ago and 18 generations back from our G4’s today! Can you imagine the differences between his life back then and ours now? Do you think in his very wildest dreams he could have ever imagined that his descendants would someday fly through the air, talk to others instantly on the other side of the world, be able to travel a thousand miles or more in a single day? At that time they still thought the world was flat! And lest you think it is so cool that one of our ancestors was born in a castle, just remember—he wasn’t necessarily noble. He could have been the child of a servant, or perhaps the village blacksmith’s son and his birth was merely recorded there. We don’t know.

There were other ancestors mentioned from the end of the Middle-Ages. On Grandpa’s paternal side was Hendrick Vrooman who was born in 1526 in Valkenburg, Netherlands (16 generations back from our G4’s) and William Wilcoxson born in Derbyshire, England in 1560 (14 generations back.) Incredible to think we can trace our roots back to the Middle Ages, isn’t it?

Our ancestors came from England primarily, although there is a sizeable Dutch branch as well. They also came from Ireland, Belgium and Germany and were among the very earliest settlers in this country. Ebenezer Hill Judkins, the first of the Judkins mentioned in our genealogy, claimed that the records show that his forefathers came over on the Mayflower in 1620 and were a prominent part of the Plymouth colony. The first birth noted in our family tree on American soil, however, was Joseph Wilcoxson’s in 1635. If there truly were ancestors of ours on the Mayflower, there would have undoubtedly been births prior to his.

Our forefathers settled in New England first—New York (New Amsterdam), Connecticut, Vermont, Maryland, Maine and Virginia. After the Revolutionary War they eventually began to move west into Kentucky, Indiana and Wisconsin, for the most part. Some moved by wagon and others floated on flatboats down the Kentucky and Ohio Rivers just as Daniel Boone had a few years before them. Later, Henry Seth Clark joined the Gold Rush to California. Our American ancestors were true pioneers, often being among the first to settle in new frontiers.

They were patriots, as well. Abijah Ward, the first actual Ward mentioned in our genealogy charts, fought in the Revolutionary War, as did Henry Miller. According to the National Military Archives, Henry Miller was actually at Valley Forge with George Washington in 1778. Another Miller fought in the War of 1812, and Comfort Carpenter Walker fought in the Civil War. Many others have served proudly in defense of our country, as well.

In fact, the name Ward actually means “watchman or guard,” from the Old English weard. However, other names played prominently in our family heritage, as well. On Grandpa’s side there were families named Lewis, Wilcox, Borst, Burgaart, Van Valkenburg and Vrooman, among others. Grandma’s side had Walkers, Clarks, Moores, Judkins, Butlers and Smarts, to name a few. Some first names stand out as being unusual by today’s standards—Union, Comfort, Annis, Submit, Mindwell, Volney. There was also a Benjamin Franklin and Simon Bolivar. One woman was listed as only “Mohawk woman from Turtle Clan.” Our family tree is loaded with Bible names, too -- many of them the usual ones we still hear today, but there’s also an Ebenezer, Joachim, Asa, Abijah, Bartholomew, and Ozial (probably a derivative of Ozias or Uzziel.) John, William, and Henry, or variations of those names, were the most common first names for men. Strange, isn’t it, that there is not a John, Henry or William among us today. Mary, or a variation, was the most popular name for women by far.

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It’s important to remember that these are not merely names, but people. People who lived and breathed, who suffered and loved, raised their children and worked very, very hard. There are several anecdotes and personal details noted in the genealogy charts that bring these people to life a bit. One of the most humorous is this one: Henry “Tip” Moore was born 3 months after his father left for the gold fields of California. He resented his father at least for a time after he returned due to his father's absence during the first years of the younger Henry's childhood. A story from Calista Clark, his daughter, goes as follows: "One day when his father was working down in the well, little Tip was leaning over close to the edge. When his father ordered him back, Tip spit in his father's face, for which he received a "licking", whereupon, Tip's mother cried because she thought his father didn't like his little boy. Tippy no doubt thought that strange man had no right to boss him.”

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Five hundred and fifty-three years of history. Five hundred and fifty-three years of people who have come and gone, whose genes have been passed down through the generations to us today, whose faith has survived to become a spiritual legacy in our family. John Robey could never have imagined how the world would change, nor the thousands upon thousands who would follow him through the centuries. Five hundred and fifty-three years from now, if the Lord should tarry, the year will be 2561. Like John Robey, we cannot begin to imagine in our wildest dreams what life will be like, nor the thousands who will follow in our footsteps. It is obvious as we study our genealogy that we have a rich spiritual heritage and strong pioneer roots. Will we pass that faith and strength on to our children and grandchildren? Will their grandchildren and great-grandchildren follow in our footsteps? Will our descendants five hundred fifty-three years from now find our names hidden in their family tree and wonder about us? Will they still be praising God for the legacy that has been passed down through the generations to them?

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Though we have this heritage of faith in our family, there are no spiritual “grandchildren” with God. Each man, woman and child must come to Him through Jesus Christ on their own, and make that personal decision to accept Him as Savior or not. We can pray for our children and grandchildren and the generations that follow, though, and we can teach them. The Word of God tells us in Deuteronomy 6:5-7, You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up.

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A song by Steve Green says, “Oh, may all who come behind us find us faithful. May the fire of our devotion light their way. May the footprints that we leave lead them to believe, and the lives we live inspire them to obey. Oh, may all who come behind us find us faithful!” May each of us faithfully pass on to the following generations the legacy of family, love, strength and faith that has been the blessing of our rich heritage from those who have gone before us. And to God goes all the glory.

Written by Cynthia Sue Pratt Griffith
for the 2008 Ward Family Reunion

With many thanks to
Brian Paul Ward
Diane Christine Ward Gaffney
Julia Ann Ward Alexander

They did all the work on our genealogy.
I merely drew the highlights from it and summarized it.



Find Us Faithful

We're pilgrims on the journey

Of the narrow road,

And those who've gone before us line the way,

Cheering on the faithful, encouraging the weary,

Their lives a stirring testament to God's sustaining grace.

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Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,

Let us run the race not only for the prize,

But as those who've gone before us,

Let us leave to those behind us

The heritage of faithfulness

Passed on through godly lives.

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Oh, may all who come behind us find us faithful!

May the fire of our devotion light their way.

May the footprints that we leave

Lead them to believe,

And the lives we live inspire them to obey.

Oh, may all who come behind us find us faithful!

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After all our hopes and dreams have come and gone,

And our children sift through all we've left behind,

May the clues that they discover

And the memories they uncoverBecome the light that leads them

To the road we each must find.

Oh, may all who come behind us find us faithful!

May the fire of our devotion light their way.

May the footprints that we leaveLead them to believe,

And the lives we live inspire them to obey.

Oh, may all who come behind us find us faithful!

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Words and Music by Jon Mohr

THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER

Today is Easter Sunday. As I have done for the last eight years, I’m staying home from church with Robbie. The heavy doses of seizure medicines he takes early in the morning usually insure that he will sleep until noon. Bob is going to the early service at church, and then will teach his men’s Sunday School class. When he gets home we will get Robbie ready and then join my family at my sister Corinne’s house for Easter dinner.

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I love the significance of Easter, the most precious remembrance in our Christian faith. Christmas is my favorite holiday, and celebrating the coming of Christ to earth as the newborn king is joyous and awesome, but Easter is the reason He came to begin with. I miss being at church on Easter morning, but the Lord knows I thank and praise Him every day of the year for what He did for us on the cross and for His resurrection.

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For most of us, certain holidays are associated with favorite traditions and special memories. There are Easter memories and traditions, both in our family and at church that I treasure, as well. My parents were never big on the Easter Bunny, but we did color eggs, (usually on Good Friday) and hunt for Easter baskets the minute we woke up on Easter morning. When I had children of my own, I carried on those traditions. They were important to me because they invoked the memories of my happy childhood.

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My girls, however, decided they did not want to emphasize the secular side of Easter with their own children and started traditions of their own. Rather than coloring eggs, they have “Resurrection Eggs.” They put little symbols of Easter, such as a silver coin, or a nail, or a small cross inside plastic eggs and in the days leading up to Easter they go through the eggs a couple at a time telling the story of Easter. My grandchildren don’t get Easter baskets; they get “Spring” baskets to celebrate springtime, sometime in the weeks before or after Easter. That’s fine with me. I don’t think getting Easter baskets or coloring eggs hurt me or my siblings, or my own girls at all. We still grew up knowing the true meaning and importance of Easter, just as we knew the significance of Christmas despite having a Christmas tree, presents and all the other traditional trimmings. If Laurie and Julie want to do things differently with their children and start new traditions, however, in an effort to reinforce the importance of Easter, I totally understand and support them in it.

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I mentioned we’re doing our traditional Easter dinner at Corinne’s. We all have parts of the dinner that we bring year after year. As usual, I’m taking the (yummy!) fruit salad. Dee will probably bring deviled eggs. Mom usually makes the ham and a special cake. It has a Cool Whip frosting, cherry or strawberry filling, and a green coconut nest with jelly bean eggs on top A couple years ago; she dropped it upside down on the kitchen floor just before dinner. Somehow they managed to save it by scraping off the part that had hit the floor and making it into something like a “trifle.” It’s been called our “Resurrection Cake” ever since. We’ve laughed over that memory so many times and I am sure the Resurrection Cake will have a place in our family traditions for many years to come!

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The church I grew up in had traditions associated with celebrating Easter, too. Every year the pastor would encourage the husbands to buy an Easter lily for their wives and then bring it to church to decorate the sanctuary on Easter morning. The whole front of the church would be loaded with lilies. They lined the walls and filled the window sills, and the church looked and smelled beautiful! A year or so after Bob and I were married we lived only two or three blocks from church. We decided one beautiful Easter morning to walk to church and I happily carried my lily, so proud to be a married woman now with my own lily to share. Someone else decided to “share” my lily, too—a bee! I got stung!

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The church we now attend also decorates with lilies that the church members furnish, although with a slightly different twist. The lilies are bought and used to decorate the church on Easter as a memorial to family members and friends who have gone on to be with the Lord. I love that tradition for we are reminded that someday they (and we) will be resurrected, also. This year they will be using tulips instead of lilies because some people have complained that the lilies are hard on their allergies. I am sure it will be colorful and beautiful, and I don’t have a problem with it, but in a way it is not quite the same. The lilies remind me of little trumpets. Someday the trump of God will announce that resurrection of the saints when Christ returns in the Rapture. (I Thessalonians 4:16, 17)

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There is an Easter tradition that I treasure most in my memories, though, because it taught me a life lesson I never forgot. In the church I attended as a child, they took a special offering every Easter which they called “Thirty Pieces of Silver.” In the Bible we are told that Judas betrayed Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. We were asked to turn that price of betrayal around by sacrificially giving thirty pieces of silver back to the Lord. It usually went then toward a special project in the church or a benevolent offering.

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My mother took that “Thirty Pieces of Silver” offering very seriously. I remember her saving what she could for it and giving us kids coins for it. I also remember her talking about “sacrifice.” Christ gave Himself as a sacrifice on the cross for us, so Easter ought to be a time of sacrifice, she taught us. We almost never got new outfits for Easter—our sacrifice so that we could give to the “Thirty Pieces of Silver” offering. That was fine with me. The thought of sacrificing something so that we could give back to Him made me happy. The few times we did get new clothes around Easter time were because we actually needed them, not because it was the thing to do.

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I tried to carry that tradition on with my own children, teaching them the importance and beauty of sacrifice by not buying new outfits for Easter for them, either, and using the money for a special offering to the Lord. There are far better sacrifices we can offer the Lord, though, than money or Easter clothes or giving up chocolate for Lent, as some do. What is true sacrifice?

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The Law gave very detailed instructions to the Israelites as to how, what, where, when and through whom they were to sacrifice to the Lord. They were to give burnt offerings, meat offerings, meal offerings, milk offerings, drink offerings, sin offerings, wave offerings, heave offerings, peace offerings, free offerings, and on and on. They were to sacrifice sheep, goats, cattle, birds, and give offerings of grain, milk, gold, silver, brass, jewels, etc. There were certain times of day and certain holidays and events during the year when they were to sacrifice. God set down many requirements for the priests and for the size and materials of the tabernacle, altars, and priests’ robes. When Christ came and offered Himself as a sacrifice for us once and for all, though, that changed everything. Hebrews 10 tells us that all those requirements of the Law were just a reminder of our sin and a picture of what was to come when the Ultimate Sacrifice was made. The blood of bulls and goats could not take away sin, but the body and blood of Jesus Christ was the perfect sacrifice made once and for all for all who believed.

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Just as God demanded a more perfect sacrifice for the remission of sins, so there are better sacrifices that we can make than mere material goods. Psalm 4:5 says to “Offer the sacrifices of righteousness, and put your trust in the LORD.” In Psalm 27:6 David offered the sacrifices of joy in His tabernacle. We are told in Psalm 116:17 that we ought to offer the sacrifice of thanksgiving to God and in Hebrews 11:5 to offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually. Hebrews 13:16 says, “But to do good and to share forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.” The Lord asks us in Romans 12:1 to present our bodies as living sacrifices.

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And then there are some things the Bible tells us that are even better than sacrifice. Mark 12:33 says that “to love Him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the soul, and with all the strength, and to love one’s neighbor as oneself, is more than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” In Proverbs 21:3 we are told, “To do justice and judgment is more acceptable to the LORD than sacrifice.” Samuel asked in I Samuel 15:22, “Hath the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams.”

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Jesus gave Himself as a sacrifice for us. He died that we might live. Is there any sacrifice, then, too great for us to make for Him? The “Thirty Pieces of Silver” offering is well and good, and I learned a life lesson when I was young because of it, but the sacrifices God wants from us truly are not about sacrificing money or material goods. God treasures the sacrifices we make of righteousness, joy, thanksgiving, praise, goodness and kindness. He wants us to offer our bodies for His service. To love Him, to love others, to do justice and to obey His voice—these are better than sacrifice in His eyes. Jesus died for me. Can it be too great a sacrifice to live for Him?

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Ah, the best laid plans... Since I posted this earlier this morning we got a call that Bob's mom was taken to the hospital in an ambulance with either a heart attack or stroke. Bob went straight to the hospital from the church and we will be missing Easter dinner with the family. Of course, that is fine with me. It is far more important that Bob be with his family at the hospital. We are praying for his mom -- for her physical needs, certainly, but more importantly, for her spiritual needs. She has been very antagonistic to the Gospel ever since Bob got saved almost forty years ago. She has even thrown him out of the house several times for trying to witness to her. This may be her last chance to accept the Lord and I am praying that Bob will have the opportunity to speak to her about His plan of salvation, and that her heart will be softened to it and she will accept Him before it is too late.

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By the way, the fruit salad made it to Easter dinner without us (my sister picked it up.) Of course, I saved out a little bit for us! Couldn't see any point in totally sacrificing the fruit salad! :-)

POTPOURRI

In the weeks since I started this blog, I’ve tried to take something that’s happened during the week and use it as the inspiration for the current Sundays with Cindy. This week several things occurred that inspired me, and since I couldn’t choose which one to use, I decided to do a little potpourri, if you will, of several thoughts. I doubt that there is a common thread that ties them all together, but hopefully they’ll be amusing and a little thought-provoking at the same time.

Wednesday was April Fool’s Day. It wasn’t quite the same this year as it has been the last few years with Laurie’s girls gone. Gabi, especially, is a prankster, and she and her sisters would usually spend a great deal of thought and effort on trying to pull off April Fool’s jokes on their parents, and especially Grandma. With them in Ecuador now, the day passed very quietly, except for a wake-up call I received from Bob that morning.

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“Happy anniversary!” he said. No, it wasn’t our wedding anniversary, but the thirty-ninth anniversary of the day we got engaged. (I’m impressed year after year that he remembers!) Most guys these days try to plan a romantic evening when they pop the question, usually on a significant day like Valentine’s Day or Christmas, or the girl’s birthday or the anniversary of the day they met—but not Bob. Nope, he chose April Fool’s Day. Most guys, too, might choose a romantic setting—a beach or a mountaintop, or at least a fancy restaurant. Nope, again. Bob pulled out that little black box with the ring and surprised me in my parent’s living room with the whole family sitting there and looking on. That’s okay. Who needs romance? We started off laughing and he’s kept me laughing all these years. It turns out April Fool’s Day 1970 was the perfect day for us to get engaged. It was just a sign of things to come!

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The book of Proverbs has a lot to say about fools. My favorite, though, is, “Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.” (Proverbs 17:28) Another that is similar is Proverbs 29:11: "A fool uttereth all his mind: but a wise man keepeth it in till afterwards.” My dad used to quote the modern-day version, “Better to keep your mouth closed and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt." I’ve regretted a lot of things I’ve said in my life, and acted foolishly, as well. I hope with age I’ve learned some lessons and been a little slower to speak and act until I’ve had time to think first.

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Hmm, I wonder if Bob has ever regretted opening his mouth and popping the question on that April Fool’s Day thirty-nine years ago?

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The older I get, the lazier I’ve become—at least when it comes to housework. I’d much rather be sitting with my computer on my lap or playing with Robbie than scrubbing floors or cleaning bathrooms. Oh, don’t get me wrong—with just Bob and Robbie and I here now, the house usually stays fairly neat. When the dust gets thick enough that I can write in it, I get busy and tackle it. It helps that my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. I suspect there may be more there than I can see.

I feel for my daughter Julie. They are trying to sell their house right now. In just six weeks David is being transferred from Louisiana to Alabama, and they need to get this house sold, another one bought, pack up and move. They spent two months doing all the projects that would take their house from “lived in” to “designed to sell.” Since they put it on the market three weeks ago they have worked hard to have it looking like the perfect model home every minute of every day just in case they should have a showing at a moment’s notice. It’s been difficult—especially since they have three young children and Julie home schools them, as well.

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They are also in the middle of trying to adopt two or three children from El Salvador. It has been a long, very slow process and some of their paperwork for immigration is about to expire. They have to have another home study done because of that, so on top of everything else this week, they were busy collecting updated references, doctor’s reports and police reports. They had to go get their fingerprints done again. This time, rather than using ink and a card as they had done the first time, their fingerprints were taken digitally. That was fine for David, but they were having a terrible time getting the fingerprints off of Julie’s hands. They finally settled for what they could get, and hopefully immigration will accept them the way they are.

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Julie was telling me about this experience and said, “I think perhaps it was because I’ve been doing all this housework every day, and maybe the cleaning products have marred my fingerprints.”

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I laughed and said to her, “Are you trying to tell me you’ve worked your fingers to the bone?”

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She burst out laughing and said, “Yes! Now if only I could just work my butt off!”

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That was my best laugh of the week! Now, what little nugget of spiritual truth can I find in this exchange? Well, there is I Corinthians 15:58 which says, “…always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord,” and Galatians 6:9, “And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” Hang in there, Julie! All that hard work will pay off in the end. Now, if I could just apply that to my diet and work my…well, you know!

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Robbie is a true music-lover. He might be mentally-challenged, but he actually has quite a good ear for music. He is very discriminatory and when the music is off-key he lets us know! He makes faces and fusses and looks at me as if somehow I’m to blame—or at the very least I should somehow fix it. There were times in the past when we would be in church with him and someone would sing a special number not very well. Robbie would get all upset, casting accusatory glares at the culprit and starting to cry, to the point where it was actually embarrassing because everyone around us could see what the problem was. We just prayed the singer didn’t realize why Robbie was suddenly upset! On the opposite end of the spectrum, when the music is harmonious and on-key he nods his head majestically and is all smiles, listening intently and exhibiting his royal pleasure. It’s so funny, and at the same time amazes us that he has such a good ear.

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A couple years ago I started playing the harmonica for him. It happened by accident when I picked up a toy harmonica and played a few little tunes. He really seemed to like it so I kept at it, practicing a couple hours a day when I would lie down with him before naptime or bedtime. After a day or two of this he was just tolerating me (remember, I was still learning.) but a week or so later I actually was getting pretty good! Bob went out and bought me a real harmonica, and before you knew it, Mommy could actually play hundreds of songs for Robbie! It is our special time together and he smiles and kisses me when I play for him, signing, “More, more!”

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The good things about a harmonica are that it is very easy to learn to play, it is relatively inexpensive, and you can take it with you anywhere. It goes with us when he is in the hospital. Once he is feeling well enough to enjoy it, I close the door to his room and play it quietly for him. It’s a comfort to him.

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I’ve gone through a couple harmonicas already in the last two and a half years. This week several of the upper notes on my harmonica began sounding “off”— and Robbie had a cow! Oh my goodness, Mommy was torturing him! He made ugly faces and whined, he grabbed my hand and tried to pull it away, he “tattled” on me to Daddy when Bob came in to see what the fuss was. Yesterday Robbie gave Mommy an early Mother’s Day gift—a new harmonius harmonica!

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I have always liked the fourth chapter of Ephesians. If I could give it a title I would call it “Living Harmoniously.” The last two verses kind of sum it up, “Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice: and be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.” Whether we are speaking of within the Church or our families or any other relationship, the Lord wants us to live in unity of spirit, not in discord. I wonder how our speech sounds to God every day. When we are angry, or harsh, or hurtful, or fighting, does the sound of our discord hurt His ears the way the wrong notes bother Robbie? Is our loving, kind, gentle, forgiving speech beautiful music to Him? Let us try to live harmoniously with our spouses, our children and other family, and our brothers and sisters in the Lord! It is music to God’s ears!