Monday, July 3, 2017

Today's post is a repost from July, 2012. It was written by guest blogger Jane Ray Garrison, author of the "Tragedy's Ark"

Firecrackers and Mother’s Blue Dress

            Fireworks were a big deal in Nigeria. Every Christmas the stores offered a wide assortment of beautifully boxed Japanese explosives. Like sushi, their presentation – before being ignited was part of the experience. Picture a sturdily constructed red box with brightly wrapped objects of interesting shapes and sizes artfully arranged within its borders, and you will understand why many of the missionary kids, including our brother Chris, loved to receive fireworks as Christmas gifts. Of course, if we were going to celebrate the fourth of July, American style, such boxes had to be saved a long time, making the eventual show all the more spectacular.

One year, the hospital side of the Ogbomosho mission’s Fourth of July party was to be held at Rose Cottage, the home of nurse, Amanda Tinkle, whose huge body frame was matched only by her love for children. Hot dogs, marshmallows and a softball game would culminate with a grand fireworks display conducted in the center of the cottage’s roundabout. 

Rose Cottage was one of the few early mission houses left standing even in those days. Typical to its time, the steps leading up to its screened-in-porch were accented on either side by wide concrete banisters. The mothers would sit on the screened-in porch in rattan chairs, the smaller children would sit on the steps, but the older children would stand on the banisters feeling powerful and quite grown-up. The men were naturally in the roundabout hovering over the various colorful packages that each had come equipped to explode. 

That night things were going as expected, with the pajama-clad youngsters hitting each other with sparklers while our mothers chatted amicably. Every now and then, a loud cry would erupt from the little one’s cluster, and we would see the corresponding mom glare at the other child’s mother before quickly jerking her own child away from the duel. But mostly, our attention was focused on the roundabout and the beautiful sprays of green, red, and blue that shot across the sky with lightening speed. We looked in awe when one father held a Roman candle high above his head, and shrieked with delight when another dad lit a string of firecrackers. But the bottle rockets were the undisputed favorite of all! For these, our mother left the shelter of the screened-in porch and with two small children on either side, snuggled down on steps for a full, bigger-than-life view of the entertainment…and this is where I can’t remember. I can’t remember if it was Daddy or some other man who set the rocket in the glass coke bottle and lit it before quickly stepping out of the way.

But something went dreadfully wrong. Instead of shooting up into the sky, the shower of colorful sparks headed right into the small audience sitting on the higher spot. I pressed my body against the screen, hoping that it would bear my weight and that I wouldn’t fall backwards into something like the flowerpot. However, from my vantage point, I could see that not everyone was so lucky. In fact, I could tell that our mother, in her favorite blue dress, was a target just waiting to be hit. Sure enough, before I could even assimilate this information, her dress was ignited into brilliant golden flames that lapped and swirled amongst the ample folds of the garment’s full cut. Before anyone knew what was happening, all “so many hundred” pounds of Aunt Tink were on top of our mom rolling her over and over on the graveled driveway. Mother yelling all the time; “Leave me alone! Leave me alone!”

The near catastrophe called a halt to the fireworks display and we were soon all heading for home – Mother with a giant hole in her dress, the rest of us with downtrodden spirits and un-ignited fireworks under our arms. Sensing the gloom, I felt honor bound to do something to make things better. So, as we walked up our driveway, I sided up to Mother and put my arm around her. 

“Momma,” I said, “Aren’t you grateful for Aunt Tink’s saving your life?” You don’t seem happy.”  

Mother looked away. “Humph,” she said. “Amanda Tinkle didn’t save my life. She just rolled me around in the gravel.”

I didn’t reply. Even then, I knew this was just a show of spunk – a part of my mother, who had fiery red hair and a temper to match. At this point, there would be no convincing her of the peril she had just escaped. Instead, I rubbed a scuffed place on her elbow and silently wondered if she would ever know how glad I was that Aunt Tink did save her life!

Monday, June 5, 2017

Through My Kitchen Window

Image may contain: plant, food and nature

Maybe this post should actually be called through my back door window.

A mother bird made a nest in the plant that hangs on a stand right outside my back door. It has been so much fun to watch their daily progress and change. At first there were three eggs, then a day or two later, there were six.

I have observed that the mother bird sits on the nest all night and most of the morning. But by afternoon, especially late afternoon, she is nowhere to be found. I think she must know the eggs, and now baby birds, need her warmth in the cool night and morning hours but by the hot summer afternoons, they do not. Perhaps they are even better off without her warm body there in the heat of the afternoon. Whatever the reason, she leaves and I can peek in and see what's happening in the birds little world.

A few days ago, one egg hatched. By today there are four hatched, with one (the first one) significantly bigger than the other three.

What fun to see these tiny living creatures! And as I watch these baby birds hatch and then grow, I am reminded of God's tender love for them ...and me! To quote the old hymn:

"Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me..."





Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Devotions


                                                                
This devotion was published in the Spring 2011 issue of The Secret Place

Changed in a Moment

Read: 1st Corinthians 15:50-58

Behold I tell you a mystery, we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed.” 1st Corinthians 15:51 (NAS)

“Mom! I caught some tadpoles today! Can I keep them? Please, mom, please!!” My 12 year old son exclaimed these words as he ran through the front door of my house with a jar of murky creek water in his hands. My son had been playing in a nearby creek on this hot summer day and he had managed to catch five small grayish colored tadpoles. After researching the topic, I reluctantly agreed to let him keep his new found pets.


What fun we had that summer! We changed the tadpole water regularly, taking care to declorinate the new water and we fed them lettuce that had been boiled and then frozen. Over the course of a few weeks, our tadpoles grew first back legs and then front ones.  At long last, they lost their tails. Their color altered too as the tadpoles changed into small, bright green tree toads!

The scriptures tell us that if we are believers, we too will someday be changed. However, our change will not be slow like my son’s tadpoles were. No, our change will be quick, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye. We will change from perishable to imperishable; from mortal to immortal. What exciting news! I wonder if God will have as much fun watching us change as my son and I had watching his tadpoles change?



Prayer: Heavenly Father, we are excited about spending eternity with You. Thank you for that glorious day when we change from perishable to imperishable, from mortal to immortal! Make us to live in a way that reflects our readiness for that day to come. In Jesus name, Amen.


Thought for the Day We have an eternal destination where we will be changed into the likeness of Jesus.



           


Thursday, May 4, 2017

Mother’s Day


“Mothers who are hurting do not feel envious, spiteful, or resentful of other mothers who are hurting.” –Carol Kent, “Laying My Isaac Down”


The other evening I walked with a friend to the parking lot of a church where we had just participated in a community Bible study. As we walked, my sweet friend shared how she and her husband had made the painful decision to admit their young adult son into drug rehab. The son, legally an adult now, had agreed but it was not an easy decision for any of them.

My friend spoke of the knot in her stomach and ache in her heart. I understood. Though none of my children have ever had problems with drugs, there have been other types of problems which helped me earn my membership in that special club—the “Hurting Mothers Club.” As my friend told of her pain, the quote at the start of this blog came to my mind.

Mothers who are hurting are a select group. To have been a part of that group is a badge of honor. It’s like earning a purple heart in battle. It means you have fought in the trenches alongside your also hurting son or daughter. You have shared their burden and your pain has in some small way eased theirs. At least they knew they were not facing their problems alone. 

So, I was moved to write this post to encourage all the hurting mothers out there. I am blessed now to have enough distance between the situations that caused pain to me and my precious children (yes, I’ve been there more than one time with more than one child) to have seen God’s faithfulness, His power, and His healing hand.

Hang in there sweet, hurting mother; whoever you are. God hears your prayers. He loves your child more than you do. He loved them enough to give them you to hurt along with them. 1 Corinthians 13:7 says, “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” This Biblical explanation of love perfectly describes the kind of love God has placed deep in the hearts of mothers.    

“The joy of being a mother is so closely linked to the sorrow of being a mother that it is holy ground.” –Stasi Eldredge from her book “Captivating”






Thursday, April 6, 2017

The Quotable Susan

Easter Quotes

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God."  2 Corinthians 5: 21 (NIV)


“Most of the descriptions of the victorious life do not match the reality of my own. Hyperbole, bloated rhetoric, and grandiose testimonies create the impression that once Jesus is acknowledged as Lord, the Christian life becomes a picnic on a green lawn; marriage blossoms into connubial bliss, physical health flourishes, acne disappears, sinking careers suddenly soar … The New Testament depicts another picture of the victorious life: Jesus on Calvary. The Biblical image of the victorious life reads more like the victorious limp." --Brennan Manning from his book, “The Ragamuffin Gospel”

“Grace is not cheap; it’s free. To us it is offered freely but it is not cheap. It cost Christ everything.” --John Michael (my husband)

“The cross is tiny physically but in the scope of the vastness of the universe, it dominates everything.  That is why the universe is so big –so that it can be a stage for the cross.” --Jack Miller World Harvest Missions, “Sonship” videos

“The foolishness of the cross means that ministry is essentially and irreducibly scandalous and there is nothing you can do about it. There is nothing you should try to do about it. We can’t manage scandal, we must bear it.” --Dr. Albert Mohler President of the Southern Baptist Seminary


Thursday, March 9, 2017

New Release

It's release day!!!! YAY!! My debut novel based on the lives, love, and calling of my parents is now available on Amazon. Woo-hoo! Amazon will eventually combine the paperback and kindle but for now there are two links. Both can be found on my author page

The two characters in the book, Kyle and Ali, are very like my parents, Keith and Alice, and many of their adventures come straight from my parent's lives. However, Ali and Kyle also have adventures of their own which came from my imagination rather than stories I've heard my parents tell.

When I embarked on writing their story, it soon became clear to me that it would be easier to write and make a livelier read if wrote it as fiction. Had I chosen nonfiction, I would have had to make sure every little detail was absolutely as it happened. In fiction, I had more leeway ... and well, I took it. I combined some characters into one in a couple of places and added made-up adventures in some places.

I sent the manuscript to my mother, chapter by chapter as I wrote it over the past couple of years and she loved it! She once called me up and choking back tears, she told me how much she liked the way I was writing her and Daddy's story She added, "It didn't all happen this way, but it could have."

This book was written from my heart for my parents and it has their stamp of approval.
😊




Friday, January 20, 2017

Through my Kitchen Window


Many years ago, when I was still in high school, my adopted African brother experienced his first U. S. presidential election.
My brother had so many questions. He asked, “So what happens now?” I explained that there would be a ceremony and after that the current president would step down and the new man would assume power.
He was astounded and continued his questions, “What? Will one man just walk out of the White House and another just walk in? No fighting? No guns? How can that be?”
I assured him that was exactly what was going to happen.
In his short life at that point, he had never experienced what we often take for granted—the peaceful transfer of power. He had seen transfers of power in his country but with them had come assignations, armed soldiers in trucks sometimes shooting randomly in the streets, a military coup d’état, and even a civil war; but never in his life had he witnessed one person just stepping down and another assuming power.
Having seen life through my brother’s eyes during that conversation so many years ago, I have never taken our peaceful transfer of power for granted since.
Today as I watched the inauguration, it is my hope that regardless of a person's political views, all Americans will realize what a treasure we have in this country we are blessed to call ours.
"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." Romans 12:18 (NIV)