Guess what time it is in San Antonio???

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There's always an Easter snap...

Years ago, Steve and I were visiting Savanah. We planned our trip in early spring thinking the weather would be perfect during our stay. Warm days, cool nights were predicted and we packed accordingly. We arrived to absolutely beautiful weather and enjoyed our first sunny, spring day in this quaint city.

Unfortunately, the following days, our luck didn’t hold as a cold front blew in. The temperature dropped and the rains started. Freezing, as we hadn’t packed appropriate clothing, we sat huddled by a fireplace for lunch on our second day. Our waitress, a lovely older Southern woman, was gracious in every way. I questioned her about the unseasonable cold weather and her reply was without hesitation. “Oh, darlin girl, it’s the Eastaah snap. Here in Savanah, everyone knows we always have an Eastaah snap! Don’t worry, it won’t be long before the good comes back!”

This year, our unpredictably warm San Antonio winter weather has caused Mountain Laurels to bloom early, right along side budding red bud trees and rose bushes busting out in full bloom. Bluebonnets are beginning to appear, sprinkling the hill country and spring green is peeking out from its winter hiatus, all of this weeks earlier than anticipated. 

My yard is a mess, as it continues to be “under construction,” still, I was getting antsy to get out and begin planting geraniums, bougainvillea, roses and more that will bring some color into my little space. I have waited and waited these long, almost summer like days for the unpredictable "Easter Snap" to roll in and erase the beautiful bursts of color enabled by this unprecedented warm weather. To-date, Punxsutawney Phil is proving to be very unreliable and so wrong, he saw his shadow, malarkey!  As my middle name is Impatience, I bit the bullet yesterday, thumbed my nose at Phil’s forecasting, went against my own good judgement and began planting geraniums and petunias…I simply couldn’t help myself.

As I dug into that warm dark soil, I started thinking how life is much like an Easter snap. I try to predict the unpredictable, wanting to know the unknown, trying to map out  days, weeks, months and years…and, before I know it, here comes that dreaded Easter snap and suddenly, the blooms are off the rose…at least, for a little while.

Today, March 4th, would have been Steve’s and my 22nd wedding anniversary. Eight years ago we were making plans for all types of future events. Our bucket list was never ending as we looked forward to a lifetime of trips and grandchildren and enjoying life together. That Easter snap hit us so unexpectedly and sooner than we could have imagined, March 4th would forever take on an entirely new meaning.

Carefully placing my newly purchased geraniums in the ground, my thoughts turned to Christ’s trial and crucifixion. The Easter snap certainly came unexpectedly to his followers. Imagine as his disciples, his friends and his own mother witnessed Christ’s final days. All of the unforeseen and unknown took them surprisingly off guard. That Easter snap was no little cold front, it crashed down on them like a blinding blizzard and their lives changed forever.

Have you ever been invited into a world you didn’t expect? A world that seemed to have turned upside down? A time when you thought those dark, dreary days of winter were behind you, only to be met with the unpredicted, the unexpected, the unwanted? 

I keep remembering the last words of that lovely Southern waitress. “This ole Eastaah snap won’t last long before the good comes back.” 

Time and life do have a way of leaving winter behind with spring bringing new life, new color, new freshness. While I will no longer be able to share the joy of this anniversary with Steve, I have found there is joy in all the March 4ths that preceded it and the loveliest gift, my memories of this anniversary will always be in full bloom in my mind’s eye. 

Sure we will all have our days of dark uncertainties, those days when the unpredicted Easter snap comes along and yanks us out of our comfortable skin, but there's good news, the promise of Easter morning, the promise of new life, new beginnings and unbelievable eternal joy. “Don’t worry, it won’t be long before the good comes back!”

For what it’s worth,

Janet

Romans 6:4 “…just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.”

It's a stretch...

Several years ago, I wanted to hang some very heavy wind chimes on a tree branch that was way out of my reach. I was sitting outside with Bonnie and Bos, my sister-in-laws, and my niece Audrey, when I got the sudden urge to hang these wind chimes. I had been waiting on a handyman to do this task for me, but I suddenly became impatient and was determined that the time had come and dadgum it, I was going to do this myself.

As we were all sitting in the backyard visiting, I grabbed a tall ladder and my wind chimes and before anyone knew the difference, I had shimmied up that ladder and was going to hang those suckers up. I had a long, rather heavy chain that I was going to pitch over the large tree branch and then mount the biggest of the chimes from that chain. I placed the base of the ladder in a rock-filled flower bed, as this was the only place I could find to swing the chain onto the branch. I know it was disaster waiting to happen, but, I was determined. My audience of relatives below me were urging me to stop, telling me I needed to wait on my handyman, but I was on a mission and onward and upward I went.

I realized that my ladder was not quite tall enough and I knew I was going to have to really stretch and stand on tiptoe to get this job done. I could do this, I would do this. Sisterly urgings turned into warning shouts of “Don’t!” and “Stop!” and suddenly, my stretching and tiptoeing shifted my weight, as well as the balance of my ladder and down I came, crashing to greet the jagged rocks below me. 

Ouch, ooouch! This was not going to be pretty. I met the ground with a thud and lot of pain. I fell right on the top of the heavy metal chimes that sat on top of the rocks and I ended up entangled in the toppled ladder, chains, chimes and rocks. Did I say, “Ooouch!” 

Fortunately, nothing was broken, but I was a bloody mess. The skin on my arms and legs was, well no longer on my arms and legs, the sisters and Audrey ran to my rescue, ushered me inside and doctored my wounds. I was grateful that no-one said, “I told you so,” but I knew they wanted to. Nothing was permanently wounded but my pride and I think my lesson was learned. The lesson: Take care when stretching, when standing on tiptoe. Make sure you are planted on solid ground and always heed the wise counsel from those you trust.

In life, there are good, bad and ugly stretches. Good stretches, before exercising is wise. Stretching your imagination can lead to creativity. Stretching out and lying down or stretching out your hand to help someone, all good.  Stretching the truth, stretching the fabric of your favorite sweater out of shape, stretching out your budget to buy something you can’t afford, all bad forms of the stretch. And the ugly, well, that would be my fall from the ladder!

There is one more stretch that I have had the opportunity to experience over the last five or so months…stretching my faith.

It began last spring when Brooke and I attended the wedding of my dear friend’s daughter. The wedding was to take place in Carmel and I needed a date and Brooke was all in. Rarely, do we have the opportunity for this mother/daughter alone time and we loved every minute of that fun week-end.

One night, over dinner Brooke shared with me that she had been feeling a call that we needed to do something, of purpose, together. Goosebumps rose on my arms, as I told her I  too had been feeling those same nudges. Neither of us had a clue what this assignment would look like, but we both agreed to be patient, prayerful and wait and see what God might be calling us to do. 

It was late summer when Brooke, Harper, Lucy and I were driving to Colorado to spend the last weeks of summer. Jared and Harris were flying to meet us and we were on an all girl Thelma and Louise + 2 adventure. 

About a week before, I had received an out-of-the-blue email from a long-time friend that I hadn’t seen in ages. Margaret, was serving on a planning committee for a women’s retreat and they were looking for a speaker for this event. Margaret said Brooke’s and my name had come to her mind immediately and asked if we would be interested in visiting with the committee about being the speakers? “What? No! There was absolutely, positively no way was I going to speak before a large group! This was out of my comfort zone, not in my wheelhouse and not my God given gift. Public speaking made my palms sweaty, my heart beat outside of my body and no, no, no.

As we were making this long drive to Colorado, I told Brooke of Margaret’s e-mail. Her first response was, “Do you think this is what God is calling us to do? Haven’t we been praying that God would reveal what He wants of us? Maybe Mom, maybe we need to talk to the committee.” How did I raise this wise child?

Well, we met with the committee and we said yes. Brooke and I had never led any type of spiritual retreat and we were feeling…you got it…stretched. I was back on that ladder and this was a stretch beyond my grasp. I was standing on tiptoe, trying to see what God’s plan for us was and I was clueless. 

By October, we were meeting with the committee and ideas were forming. My capable, gifted daughter was full of ideas and confidence and things started to gel. We both knew this was what God was calling us to do, but I continued to feel uncomfortable, incapable and really wanting to tell God, “You made a big mistake, you must have gotten my name mixed up with someone else.”

Brooke and I began formulating our plan in late December, this is the way my daughter works, if it had been up to me, I would have begun stewing back in September. We would meet, research, throw ideas around and come up with something, that several days later felt stiff, foreign and just wrong. Weeks passed and the retreat date grew closer, we continued to meet, to pray and continued to research and we were coming up with, nothing. “Come on God, you called us to do this, we are being obedient, now drop this in our laps and let’s do this thing that, by the way, You know is not in my wheelhouse!”

Finally, last week we found our footing. No longer were we teetering on that high ladder that was balanced on uneven rocks below us. Finally, we had waded through all the “what ifs” and “how about thats” and we began to find our way. 

Yesterday was retreat day and God didn’t fail us. I believe 165+ women were in attendance and I have no doubt God was in charge. This day was full of blessings beyond our wildest imagination and it was all perfectly orchestrated, by Him! 

University United Methodist Church was the church our family joined in 1995. The minister had married Steve and me. Both Harper and Harris were baptized in this church and this was where Steve’s memorial service was held. This was our body of Christ for 20 years and though we have moved from this church, it will always feel like home to me. What a blessing to see so many dear friends that I hadn’t seen in several years, what a gift to receive their hugs, their encouragement and their love. It was good to be back.

Today, I’m marinating in the entire process. I’m in awe of God’s intricate orchestration and His crazy attention to detail. I admit that I was standing on a ladder and I was being stretched way beyond my capabilities, but guess what, I didn’t fall! Here’s what made the difference, I was being stretched by a God that I knew would catch me if I started to tumble. He knew exactly what He wanted and needed Brooke and me to say and He knew that we needed to take the time and go through the process, to work together and to trust Him in order for this to become one of those “good stretches.” God knew that we needed to stand on tiptoe in order to keep our eyes on Him and not lose sight that He had called us to this high place. 

My lesson learned was again: Take care when stretching, when standing on tiptoe, make sure you are on solid ground and always heed the wise counsel from those you trust. The greater lessons I learned: God will never place us on unstable ground or on ladders too tall. He encourages us to fall, but on our knees, and He will never put us in danger of scraping the skin off our body. He is always there for wise counsel and He never says, “I told you so.”

I believe God is intentional, purposeful, loving and full of grace. I believe God stretches us beyond our own capacity, but never beyond His. I need always remember to stand on tiptoe, so that I can keep my eyes on a God that never takes His eye’s off me.

What a good stretch yesterday was…I can’t wait to see what’s next!

For what it’s worth,

Janet

Isaiah 54:2 "Enlarge the site of your tent, and let your tent curtains be stretched out; do not hold back; lengthen your ropes, and drive your pegs deep.

What a way to bring in the new year...

If you had bet me at 10:30 pm on December 31, 2016 that at the stroke of midnight I would be ringing in the new year with two handsome young men and a policewoman, while I lay on my driveway in a big bear hug…well, I would have lost that bet for sure.

Now that I have your attention, let’s start at the beginning. I’ve never been big on celebrating New Year’s Eve. It is one of those evenings that never meets expectations, big crowds, loud music, fireworks and merriment. One night a year when everyone goes out, has forced great fun and at the stroke of midnight you find yourself wrapped in the arms of someone you love, gazing up at them and singing “Auld Lang Syne.” Gag. 

Truth be told, this is usually one of those nights when all the restaurants are too crowded, service is slow, parties are disappointing and all you really want to do is go home and be in bed by 10:00 pm. Be honest and tell me I’m right.

This year, I did spend the evening with a group of good friends. We ate, watched football, played a few games and because none of us are spring chickens, we were content to call it a night by 10:30.

I had thought I might spend the night at a friend's home so I wouldn’t have to drive home, but thought better of it and instead Ubered home. (Can Uber now be considered a verb?) Sitting in the back seat on the drive home, I began to feel a blanket of sadness drape itself around me. The night was clear, early fireworks  were lighting up the night sky and the sound of pops and booms filled the air and a bit of self-pity caused me to sink lower into the seat cushion of the little Uber car. It was New Year’s Eve, it was 10:30 pm and I was on my way home, alone. Whaa whaa. I will never be a fan of New Year’s Eve.

Opening my front door, Lucy was strangely absent. My faithful dog is always there to greet me, tail wagging, covering me with her wet kisses and begging me to scratch her belly. I walked to the backyard calling for her, no Lucy. Fireworks exploded, I turned the corner of my driveway and there she was, sitting by the back gate. Calling Lucy, she didn’t move, she didn’t even turn around. Walking up to her, I knew my Houdini dog had tried to escape the boundaries of my backyard. My mind instantly recalled past July 4th evenings and remembered Lucy’s fear of fireworks and her need to run.  Bending down to reassure her all was well, I realized Lucy had wedged the top half of her body between the 4 inch slats of my wrought iron gate. She was stuck like Winnie the Pooh in a honey jar and my 35 pound dog was not budging through that narrow opening. 

I began to panic as I tried to think of ways to release my beloved dog without further injury. I grabbed a hammer and crowbar out of the garage. I don’t know what good I thought they would do, but I pulled that bar with all my might. I got down on the ground, pushing with my feet and pulling with all my strength, nothing shifted. Lucy’s breathing was labored and she was shaking. Had she been like this all night or just since the fireworks began? I’ll never know, but I was beside myself. What if I had spent the night out? What if I had driven home and opened my automated back gate without seeing Lucy? Oh, poor girl!

It was now about 11:30 and I knew Brooke and Jared had an early night out with the kids. I was certain they were asleep, but I had no other option. After many rings, a sleepy Jared shuffled down the block to help me. He tried to pry the iron slats apart and fearing he might have a hernia, I finally stopped him. Then it dawned on me…the fire department!

I called 911 and sent Jared back to bed. I crouched on the pavement in the dark, holding Lucy’s sweet head until the nicest “little” policewoman came to my rescue. Shining her flashlight on Lucy, I saw that she was covered in blood. There was blood all around her, the driveway, the gate and the side of my house…oh sweet Lucy. “Little” Ms. Officer knew there was nothing she could do, so she called the fire department.

Are you seeing where this story is going? Picture this. It’s now about 11:50pm. It’s New Year’s Eve, I am in the dark, lying on the pavement, in my New Year's Eve attire, holding my large, furry, bloody dog’s head in my arms. I’m covered in blood and whispering, “ It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” Up walked the most adorable young firemen (what they say about firemen is really true). They were strong, muscular and young enough to be my sons. They quickly assessed the situation and took no time in cutting the spindle of iron, prying my silly dog free.

Worried about all the blood, we brought Lucy inside, found the wound was just a small cut and all breathed a sigh of relief. My clock began chiming midnight as these sweet young (did I already say adorable) men, and the “little” policewoman all hugged one another. Thanking them profusely and wishing everyone a happy and safe new year, I closed the door and went to sit by my wounded little beast.

As I sat on the floor comforting Lucy, I understood I wasn’t so different from my old, furry, lovable and often times, rather dumb dog. How many times have I been fearful and anxious, surrounded by the unfamiliar pops and booms that come with life? Much like Lucy, I have felt isolated, alone and scared. All I have wanted to do is run, trying to escape the safety of what I know best, what I love dearly but, choosing my own escape route, I have found myself stuck, calling for the help that was always present.

Reassuring Lucy that she wasn’t alone, she was safe, she was loved, I held her in my arms and tried to convey to her that even though I might be out of sight, I am never far away. It was then I heard that still soft voice whispering this same promise to me. “Janet, you are not alone, you are never alone, I am here for you. You are safe, you are loved and I will protect you, even to the ends of the earth.”

When will I learn that I never need to fear or try to escape life’s tough and scary times? When will I fully grasp that I have a merciful God who is full of grace and though, out of sight, is always ready to comfort and care for me? 

It has taken the last four days for Lucy to fully heal. The first couple of days she didn’t move or eat. I’m sure she was sore and traumatized, but she’s one tough cookie and she seems back to normal today, tail wagging and wanting her belly scratched.

Life is full of lessons and of blessings and I was handed both this new year. I am blessed to believe in a God who whispers his promises to me when I am still enough to listen, to understand that He is always here to protect and guide me to safety and He loves me far more than I could ever imagine.

Oh, and a side note, who ever decided "Auld Lang Syne" was a good New Year’s Eve song?  “Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind…” Malarkey, hokum, hogwash!

To each of you, dear friends, I have never and will never forget the roles you played in my life. I am thankful for my old acquaintances, for without you, my life would not be the same.

My prayer to each of you, is that you too may be able to hear the voice of a loving God whose steadfast promise is the same for you as it is for me. 

For what it’s worth,

Janet

Matthew 28:20 “remember, I am with you always, even to the end of the world.”