Hurray up and....Wait!

“Are we there yet?” Hunter and Parker chimed as we headed to our destination--Rock City and Ruby Falls. That question was always followed with “How much longer?” and a “I’m hungry!” Sometimes there was a “He’s bugging me.” Of course, my responses were the same. They began with “No, we’re not there,” followed by a “Not much longer, just read a book or look out the window.” Then, I added a “You just ate!” with a strong question of “Do I need to pull this car over?”
We were on our way to see some of the sights in Chattanooga. My sons had never visited Rock City and Ruby Falls and with their nature-loving spirits, I knew they would enjoy the parks. I had visited these places as a child and I knew that both Hunter and Parker would be in awe of the mighty Ruby Falls. I knew that Rock City’s swing bridge would bring out Hunter’s sense of adventure and Fairyland would spark Parker’s imagination. I knew what was waiting for them as we made the trek up Lookout Mountain. They had no idea what great fun and spectacular sights they would encounter.
However, our trek to these places was being delayed by slow traffic and a misguided driver (that would be me). To read the directions, one would think it would be easy to get there. However, I was both driver and navigator and it seemed like signs were being switched as I drove. Once I found the right path, every slow driver this side of the Mississippi decided to be in my lane of traffic. We knew we were going to get there, but the delays simply meant we had to wait.
Ugh! I hate to wait. Waiting in line at Wal-mart is the worst. Waiting for the movie to start, waiting for school to get out or the workday to end, waiting for the microwave to beep, the laundry to dry, the traffic light to change…it all adds up to being put on hold. In this hurry-up-and-let’s-get-going world, waiting is a nuisance. Who can relax into waiting? Who can simply sit back and actually rest in waiting? Maybe waiting is a time to reflect, recharge, or live in the exact moment instead of constantly looking to the future. Telling me to wait is like telling Tigger not to bounce or a hummingbird to sit, not to fly or even to hover. Waiting goes against every ounce of my being as I am usually in constant motion.
However, it was on this trip that I realized that while we were waiting to go to the parks, some of the most memorable times occurred. We made up goofy lyrics to popular songs. Hunter and Parker asked me about my childhood vacations to Tennessee. They talked about their favorite things and what they wanted to do when they were older. It was in the waiting that time had stopped and we listened and laughed.
Isaiah 40:31 says, “ They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." I want to whine and complain when all along God knows the perfect place, person, situation, and timing. He also knows what is lies ahead. My sons could not imagine what Ruby Falls or Rock City would look like. I cannot even fathom what God has in store for us as we follow His lead. Hunter and Parker had to trust me, the driver and the one who had been there before. I have to trust in the One who has been there before, too. “He goes before them and the sheep follow Him for they know His voice” (John 10: 27).
All in all, we made it to both parks, enjoyed every minute of it, and plan to return. Hunter loved telling everyone that he saw seven states from Lookout Mountain. Parker talked about how big and beautiful Ruby Falls was. We enjoyed our time in Chattanooga and are looking forward to next year’s vacation. Until that time, we will have to…wait.

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I Go to the Rock

We were on our way. Wind in our hair, the radio blaring another Veggie Tale tune, and a little time on our hands. Summer was in full swing and our plans were becoming a reality.
Suddenly, Hunter said something that his scientific mind had come to realize.
“You know, Mom,” Hunter reflected, “everywhere you go, there’s rock underneath you.”
Hunter’s random statements, especially ones that pertain to nature, usually don’t cause me to pause and think. Often I hear a simple “Guess what?” and I know he will tell me about the migration of a roly-poly or a particular food that crickets eat. Parker always chimes in with a similar comment about the bug being “cute” or “he’s just a baby.”
However, this time, Hunter’s comment about rock being underneath us all the time made me stop. The idea--rock underneath me everywhere I go--stayed with me. I thought about the journey that my life has been and through it all, I can honestly say that it is true--God, my Rock, has been with me, all around me, and supported me--even when I was in areas I didn’t need to be. God has always been faithful.
As a single parent, I sometimes feel alone in my life. Decisions about many things--work, finances, future plans, even what’s for supper--are made with a little input from my kids and a lot of it by myself. If I’m not careful, the pity party will begin. I start believing my ever-changing emotions instead of resting in God’s Word. I stop believing all the Truth that God tells me everyday and kick and cry like a spoiled child. At that moment, if I were a cartoon drawing, I’d have a big cloud hanging over me or a grumbling scribble above my head. It is in those moments that I forget that God is with me all the time.
In Psalm 27:5 in the Amplified Bible, God says, “For in the day of trouble He will hide me in His shelter: in the secret place of His tent will He hide me: He will set me high upon a rock.” He commands me to “Be strong, courageous, and firm“…because He reminds me “for it is the Lord your God Who goes with you; He will not fail you or forsake you.” (Deuteronomy 31:6). Best of all, I can have confidence in the fact that “the Lord is my Rock, my Fortress, and my Deliverer; my God, my keen and firm Strength in Whom I will trust and take refuge, my Shield, and the Horn of my salvation, my High Tower” (Psalm 18:2).
When I am reminded of His presence, then clouds of self-centeredness fade and I begin to see more clearly. I become more confident in that everywhere I go and in every twist and turn in my daily journey, Jesus is with me. I also notice some things I‘d been missing--people. Some people are with their spouses, their family, and their friends. However, all of them are souls who are looking for acceptance, security, and kindness. I see spirits longing to be spoken to, included in a group, and recognized as someone of worth. That is when I think about Hebrews 13:2 which says, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
This summer my sons and I will travel to many places, even if it’s just the backyard. This upcoming school year will welcome many adventures that we never fathomed. I can go confidently in the direction that God has planned for us since the Rock is underneath us everywhere we go. “Blessed be my Rock: and let God of my salvation be exalted.” (Psalm 18:46).

The Day Before Easter

Did the world
sigh
with regret, remorse?
Did the animals
know
the secret
the magical redeeming essence
Or was it
just another day?
Was it
still
on earth while
heaven waited
with anticipation
for you
to burst out
to bring life
to deliver us
from evil
forever?
Or was it the same
as yesterday?
What did your heart feel?
What raced through your mind?
Did you want to explode with excitement?
Or were you mischeveously quiet
and then, like a crazy prank
you showed up?
Did you want to wear
a funny hat
or a clown nose?
Did it feel like you were
celebrating everyone's birthday?
Did you love watching the
surprised faces?
Did you hug your Father
for a moment
then return
to hug us, too?
Did you go to Hell,
slap the devil in the face--in his shocked face--
and then race to meet your Father
with open arms
wide spread and reaching?
Did you fall down laughing
with glee
rolling in plush grass
dandelions and butterflies
bright blue sky
magic marker colors blazing
and angels, puppies, and children
joining in the joy
of your Truth made real
of your Love given freely?
What did you do the day before
you conquered death
and
set us
free?

Plums

I was recently asked to be a storyteller at the Black Warrior Storyteling Festival. What an honor it was to be asked! What a blast it was to share my story!
This story is true, but not completely. It is a puzzle of pieces put together to create a story...

Every person I meet is a character--a possible victim, criminal, inspiration, catalyst….someone that makes a difference.

Every story is a moment in time--captured in my mind to replay by choice or by certain randomness….

every day is a journey through a story….that story may be mine, or it may be someone else’s…

but it has merit.

It has a purpose. It has an essence that makes me pause…

and then it causes me to grow….

bit by bit…

And through it.…change.


That’s why I love stories. I love writing them. I love reading them. Most of all, I love experiencing them.

My stories usually center around small things…something that seems insignificant, but brings a new perspective…a way of thinking…

Today my story is about plums.

I bought some last night in the grocery store. They weren’t too expensive and really I hadn’t had a good plum…in a long time. It was pretty good…but plums are not just another fruit to me.

Plums represent a time in my life when the stakes were high and a challenge was fierce. There were definite good guys and bad guys and I knew which side I wanted to be on. Plums were the bounty, the prize for the one who was fast enough and bold enough to face the greatest enemies: Mr. Paul and his evil rat terrier Roscoe.

It was the summer of 1978 and I was at my grandparents’ farm. It wasn’t a big farm…one with a few cows, chickens, pigs…and I was helping out in the garden with my sisters. We were all in stair step, me being the youngest. There were four of us--Tina, the oldest, Amy, the ring leader, Tonya, the snoop and challenger to Amy, and me…tagging along with whomever had some kind of adventure going on.

This day I think everyone was looking for something more than picking squash.
That’s when Amy had the bright idea of raiding Mr. Paul’s plums.
Oh, we had snuck a few from the tree only to be chased by Roscoe.

But this time we wanted to have enough to eat for a week. We knew even if we got that many, we’d have to hide them from our parents. We didn’t have any plum trees nearby or on my grandparents’ farm…only Mr. Paul had the plum trees in the closest proximity.

Amy had it all worked out. She had snuck some paper grocery bags out of my grandma’s kitchen. She knew we could get more loot that way.

She had also snagged some leftover meatloaf from the kitchen to keep Roscoe occupied.

So we made a plan. We would sneak to Mr. Paul’s trees while my grandfather went into town. My grandmother would be busy putting up corn and peas in the kitchen.

Tonya would keep watch in case someone was coming. She could do a great hoot owl call. Amy would keep Roscoe interested in food. Tina and I had the job of climbing the trees, snagging the plums, and racing out of there before Mr. Paul caught us. And trust me, it was a lot harder than it sounds.

So my grandfather’s truck pulls away. The screen door slams on my grandmother‘s house.
That’s the signal. Amy pulls out the bags and the food. Tonya takes post at the fence. Tina and I carefully climb the fence to get to the plums.

We spot Roscoe snoozing in the sun. Amy positions herself to get his attention if he wakes up. Tina and I sneak around to the trees.

And there they are. Giant juicy plums so big and plentiful that the limbs almost touched the ground. It was as though the trees were just begging us to take the plums, to give it some relief from the weight of so many plums.

And so we did. We grabbed and stuffed plums in the bag. It was full…running over full. It was so full that we started putting plums in our shirts, our shorts, even our bras. If there was a nook or cranny, we put a plum there. We had a hard time walking, but it was possible..Slow but possible. We had enough plums to last not just one week…but several weeks.

We had done it. At least we thought we had. Suddenly, a shotgun blast rang out. Tina screamed and flung the bag of plums in the air. The plums were everywhere. It was like it was raining plums. Tina, who didn’t want to do this in the first place, took off.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Except Tina. I just saw blur of her as she leapted the fence like a track star and disappeared.

Tonya began hooting like a deranged owl…yeah, a little late now, Tonya…She kept looking around and finally hopped off the fence and ran into the corn field. I knew where she was because the stalks kept shuffling. Roscoe, fully awake and obviously irritated from being disturbance, took off after Amy, who had dropped the food when the shotgun blasted….and Roscoe had more fun nipping at her heels as she tried to climb the pecan tree. He would scurry up the tree and then slap his jaws together. Sometimes he would just gnaw at the tree like it was a chew toy. I think he was part alligator.

And then there was me. Plums stuffed in my shirt, my shorts,….and I was facing a crazy old man with shotgun running out after us, firing his gun into the air.

I took off, running, running like mad….we were seen…but not caught….I made it to the fence and started climbing over it. I was on my side of the fence when suddenly twine arms wrapped viciously around me and yanked me to the ground. I fell with a thud It hurt. I have always felt sorry for cattle since then.

I opened my eyes and looked up and there she stood, my little smidge of a grandmother. She had lassoed me and pulled me to the ground. Now, my grandmother is all of 5 ft tall, maybe 100 pounds. But she proves the adage that size does not matter.

“You girls have had the devil’s hands today!” she shouted.

I looked around and there stood Tina and Tonya. Amy was sitting down, her face red from crying…I wasn’t sure if it was from the whooping she knew was coming or the bandages around her ankles from an obvious encounter with Roscoe in which she lost to this 12 pound Pit Bull wannabe.

Mr. Paul, leaning over his fence, was laughing. Roscoe, by his side, seemed to be smiling.
And we all knew, we had lost and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

That summer I learned all about plums…how to make wine with plums, how to make plum jelly, plum pudding, plum cake, plum preserves. Every day we had to harvest those plums and then basically do whatever Mr. Paul wanted us to do with those plums.
Amy, she had the honor of feeding and bathing Roscoe. She had to check him for ticks and remove them, too. Tonya had to guard his corn field every morning and make her famous noises to keep crows away.

But we also learned a lot about Mr. Paul. That mysterious man whose wife died in a car accident when she was only 30...he had lived in that house alone and Roscoe was his only real companion. We learned that he served in the Marines, that he could play a mean harmonica, and sometimes he wrote poetry…

After that summer, Mr. Paul would let us pick some plums for ourselves and of course, we’d use most of them to make something he liked--some wine, some jam or preserves.
He eventually had to move into a nursing home and he passed away a few years ago. Roscoe lived with Amy for a while before he died….it wasn’t a week after Mr. Paul died that Amy found Roscoe dead, too. I guess best friends are never really separated….in life or in death.

That was a long time ago. My grandparents are long gone now…my grandmother tried to teach us how to lasso, but I never really got the hang of it. The farm land was passed on to my parents, but there’s no farm there….just a lot of trees.. The other day I was walking through the land, taking my sons on a hike, when we came upon a tree. I couldn’t believe it. It was a plum tree. And there were flowers on it. I guess Mr. Paul or my grandparents…someone…had planted that tree. And there’s going to be fruit.
Majestic, beautiful, plums.


You see, even in the smallest most insignificant things… a story comes.

In a time that seems to be so long ago….a memory comes…and stays awhile…like a good neighbor with some good wine and maybe even a harmonica by his side.

Nature: God's Silent Fireworks

“I like when the sky is like that,” Hunter said, pointing out a cascade of pink hues in an early morning daybreak. It was a rare moment that we were both sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying our breakfast before the hectic day began. I agreed with him, “Yes, it is pretty,” I said, actually stopping to notice the beauty of it. Then he added a short description that captured the essence of the view. “It’s like fireworks, only silent.”
That statement took my breath away. He was right. The glow was majestic, powerful, and inspiring. Yet, it was quiet. There was no sound to command attention. However, once I noticed it, I didn’t want to stop enjoying it.
If you are like me on most days, this grandeur is missed. I rush through the day, overwhelmed and stressed out, with too many items on my plate to balance. I think everything I am doing is so important and if something gets dropped, gets out of line, or simply doesn’t happen, then the day is over. Then I start it all over again with the same pressures and deadlines looming.
Only when a tragedy occurs do I seem to wake up from this illusion. A loved one dies, a heart gets broken, tears fall, and I stop. When life becomes too real or too much, I seem to wake up, suddenly aware of everything around me. I see the promise of tulips and daffodils about to bloom in my yard, the intricate patterns of the fish in my aquarium, and a sun, vibrant and consistent, always rising with authority and resting with a warm glow. I pause. My world stops and sighs. Then, as two little boys race by, I marvel at how quickly they are growing up to be young men.
It is through nature that I feel close to God. I think my sons have that same love for nature as we all enjoy traipsing through the woods, watching birds flock to our backyard, and finding any excuse to spend a little more time outside.
Perhaps it is through nature that God reveals Himself to me. I know that His love is constant. “Oh, thank God--He’s so good! His love never runs out.” (Psalm 107:1) He is also majestic and powerful. “God’s thunder sets the oak trees dancing, a wild dance, whirling…we call out, “Glory!” (Psalm 29: 9). The crashing waves at the beach, the tug on a kite with a strong March wind, and the torrents of rain as I race out of the grocery store thinking I can make it only to get drenched remind me of his strength. Yet it is His strength that I long for. “God makes his people strong. God gives his people peace.” (Psalm 29:11). Finally, He is beautiful. He is not boastful nor is He a braggart. He doesn’t show off, even though He could. He makes things glorious. He made Hunter and Parker. He made you. “Body and soul, I am marvelously made!” (Psalm 139:15). I am humbled by the Creator’s love for me.
A friend of mine said that instead of waking up thinking about what he was supposed to create today, he decided to wake up and think about the Creator. Instead of thinking about what he had to accomplish, he was going to enjoy seeing how the Creator used him that day.
I like that idea. It takes the pressure off of me to be in charge. When the day is done, there is only One who is in control. “Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, the days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day.” (Psalm 139:15-16). I am comforted that He is taking care of the day He has already planned. When I am overwhelmed, He is there, faithful, strong, and loving. “Casting the whole of your care (all your anxieties, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all) on Him, for He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully.” (I Peter 5: 7). Best of all, He doesn’t create in a stressed out, hurried up, chaotic fashion. He creates with patience, understanding, and wisdom. Most of all, He creates with love. He makes silent fireworks.