Time Is of the Essence

I haven’t had a really good idea for this blog in weeks, most likely because I’ve been running around like a Jack Russell Terrier, my brain overloaded with holiday checklists and catalog copy, plus the details of a few other projects I have going (i.e., projects I’m behind on).

“Be still.”

This is how it usually works: On the rare occasion when God can get my attention (typically in my car, on the way to work), He’ll let me know what He wants to say through me and, if I’m especially attentive, how He wants me to illustrate His point.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

To let everything else go and respond to this invitation is sweet relief. If you haven’t really experienced His presence recently, I highly recommend some “still time.”

But what happens if I don’t make time for Him? I feel “off”… not grounded … without perspective. And my thoughts are jumbled, like they were this morning in the murky slumber punctuated by the radio going off again and again as I kept hitting the snooze button. I was dreaming of New Years resolutions, making lists of all of my good intentions in my sleep. Later in the day I took a few minutes to read my blog entry from last December 31st and decided I’d already covered the topic of resolutions thoroughly.

I love the idea of a clean slate on January 1st, and I believe there’s some truth to the saying, “If you don't know where you're going, you'll probably end up somewhere else.” But I also believe every day offers a fresh start, and I hate the idea of people who are supposed to be living a victorious life being defeated by their own failed resolutions.

Further review of my blog entries this year reveals a “time” theme. The older I get, the more aware I am of the passing of time, and of my need to make the most of it.

You know how you see people in passing and ask them how they’re doing? Sometimes they say, “Well, I’m here….” Often I’m guilty of replying, “Well, sometimes that’s all we can ask.” It’s an offhand response, intended to be lighthearted. But while just existing may be enough for us on any given day, I have a feeling it’s not enough for God.

I also imagine it’s not enough for my friends Andy and Beth. Over the holidays Andy, who serves in the National Guard, received a phone call to join a unit going to Afghanistan. He will be leaving on or near January 12 and will be gone for a year. He told me, “I was expecting to get called up, but not this soon. It will be a challenging year, but with God, our family, and friends close by we will overcome the challenges that lay before us.” I admire what Andy's doing, and I'm thankful for the things he's willing to sacrifice—a year of his life here at home...a year of his marriage...a year of watching his daughters, ages 3 years and 14 months, grow up. Please pray for Andy and his family, and for the 54 soldiers of the 1033rd who have already left their families in Southwest Virginia and East Tennessee.

One of my favorite new bands is 33 Miles, and their latest hit—One Life to Love—includes these lyrics:



You only get just one time around
You only get one shot at this
One chance, to find out
The one thing that you don't wanna miss
One day when it's all said and done
I hope you see that it was enough, this
One ride, one try, one life...
To love....

So how does all of this tie into the New Year? Well if you’re like me, there are many things you’d like to do better in 2009. There are the things that are all about me: Get back to the gym, clear out the clutter in my life, eat healthier, read those books waiting patiently on my shelves, blah, blah, blah. Then there the things that might actually make a difference in someone else’s life…the “more” things: Live more, love more, and extend more grace to the people in my life.

The New Year is the ultimate do-over, but where to start?

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." ~ Psalm 46:10 (NIV)

Trust Him. He’ll show you the way.

Joy to you in the New Year!

Christmas Blessings

I'm making my list and checking it twice this morning. And right after I finish my second cup of coffee ("Santa's Buzz") I'll be off and running toward the Christmas end zone.

Writing a rambling yet insightful blog post isn't on today's list, but I do want to wish you and the ones you love a Merry Christmas. I pray we won't be so consumed by busyness that we miss the gifts the Christ Child yearns to bring to our hearts today and every day: His abiding hope, incomprehensible peace, overflowing joy, and boundless love.

God bless us every one!

Entertaining Angels

Hey, how does that song go again? Something about angels…on something...high…?

Actually, these guys—from L to R: Pastor Jim, Tony H. and Greg G.—aren’t angels at all, and I promise you they’re not high. They were just good-natured enough to let the kids dress and accessorize them at last weekend’s Birthday Party for Jesus. I thought they looked heavenly.

This picture (which I promised Jim I would post) is also a good reminder to keep a sharp eye out for angels among us. You never know when or where one might turn up…just when you least expect him and most need him.

"Keep on loving each other as brothers. Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it."
~ Hebrews 13:1-2 (NIV)

Snow Days

There’s nothing much more exciting to a kid that waking up to a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. And if it gets you out of school that day, then all the better. In fact, I was once informed by my Hannah that snow on a weekend or holiday is just a waste.


Little kids can’t wait to get out and play in the snow…then come back inside to warm up…then go back out to build a snow man…troop back in for lunch…head back out sledding…drag in for hot cocoa and to dry out… The whirlwind of coats, scarves, hats, earmuffs, gloves, mittens, and boots is dizzying. I imagine snow days are hard on stay-at-home parents.

Teenagers, on the other hand, embrace a snow day like their pillow as they crawl back into their cave-rooms for another five or six hours of sleep. It’s a little like a bear deciding hibernation isn’t over yet, and they can be just about as grouchy. They’ll even tell you their brains are hard-wired to need more sleep, but I’m not buying it.

I remember being at Radford, where falling snow triggered much giddy celebration and general craziness. Of course, it doesn’t take much to get the festivities going on a college campus. My son Ben is actually taking a skiing class for college credit at ASU next semester, so he’ll be all about snow this winter.

As you age, your opinion of snow continues to change and how you feel about snow as an adult typically depends on how likely it is to inconvenience you. When you get a real job, with all that usually entails—house, job, family, pets, etc.—snow can be downright annoying. I watch the weather with great interest these days, wondering if getting to work will be an issue and, to a lesser degree, if I’ll be able to wear jeans to the office tomorrow. Are we only expecting a “skiff” of snow, or should I lay in supplies, just in case?

Even for an adult though, snow on the weekend can be a manifestation of grace…a wonderful excuse to stay at the house and enjoy a rare chance to really rest before the work week madness repeats itself. A Saturday spent inside where it’s warm can be a blessing when you spend the day watching flurries in the woods outside.

Occasionally snow mirrors my life circumstances, like when I’m trying to navigate through a driving snowstorm that pummels my windshield like problems and worries that just keep trying to chip away at my faith. I feel like I’m hurtling through space, pushing through a dark tunnel …and the light at the end is nowhere in sight.

Other times I feel as though I’m living my life in a glass snow globe, subject to being picked up and shaken against my will until the blinding snow has me feeling my way around a circle of belief. I can’t see a thing, but if I hold firmly to my foundation the snow will eventually settle and I will be able to see again….maybe even more clearly than before.

My sweet friend Connie has a beautiful collection of nativity snow globes. We protect our childhood image of that first Christmas, fleshing it out in our imagination and daring anyone to suggest it may have been different. But Mary and Joseph likely felt as though they were blinded by a veritable snow squall of problems, with no shelter in sight besides a dirty, smelly stable. And the deity of their son demanded that they step out of their comfort zone and into the spotlight to share Him with the world. Talk about God shaking up your snow globe.

Connie once also confessed to me, “One step out of today and I’m in a world of trouble.”

I’m not urging you to step out ahead of God. But don’t be afraid to step out of your globe. Even though we may sometimes feel constrained in our own spheres of influence, that’s not our reality. True, we’re each dealing with our own problems, insecurities, and weaknesses, but we are not trapped inside glass walls. We’re afforded the freedom of moving beyond our walls to reach out and touch others with Christ-like hands. We are free, indeed!

“Like the coolness of snow at harvest time is a trustworthy messenger to those who send him; he refreshes the spirit of his masters.” ~ Proverbs 25:13

Wonders of His Love

Life involves a lot of waiting.

There’s the day-to-day waiting—waiting in line at the grocery store, waiting in the doctor’s office, waiting in traffic, waiting for payday, waiting for our “turn...” Then there’s waiting on a larger continuum—waiting for our children to grow up, waiting for the tide to change, waiting for our ship to come in (a result of the changing tide?), waiting for answers to prayers, waiting for a new season of life…

During the crazy years when my children were younger, I often put off doing things, telling myself I was waiting until I had more time. For instance, I’ve been telling myself and God for years that I just wasn’t in a place where I could feasibly have an early morning, one-on-one devotional time with him. After all, I had to get kids to school, then myself to work. Plus, I’m really not a morning person…He knows that, right? But now I’m out of time, so to speak, and a few weeks ago He told me in no uncertain terms that 6 a.m. was going to be our time. And do you know what? He’s taking our time together and multiplying it exponentially. The blessings are flowing, and I thank Him for His patience with me all these years.

I’ve also passed up some opportunities to explore life over the years, setting them aside until I had more time. I was always on a mission down the beaten path, and the side roads had to wait. But this weekend my daughter and I took a quick trip to visit my mom and on the way we enjoyed a couple of diversions I’d put off time and time again. In Luray Hannah asked, “What is that huge tower we always pass?”

I didn’t know, so we took an extra half hour to explore the Luray Singing Tower, a majestic stone tower that houses a carillon of 47 cast bronze bells and is surrounded by public park land. Appropriate for the season, the inscription on the largest bell reads, “GLORY TO GOD, PEACE ON EARTH, GOOD WILL TO MEN.”

Before we got to Mom’s house we also stopped at Central Coffee Roasters® in Sperryville, Virginia. It was only 20 minutes from our destination and I had always wanted to stop there, but just never took the time. It would have been worth it just to breathe in the heavenly fragrance of freshly roasted coffee beans, but of course I left with a pound of Panama beans, as well.

When I was a child, Christmas seemed to be more about waiting than any other day of the year. My sister Ellen and I each had a stuffed Santa, and as soon as the Christmas decorations were unpacked I would ceremoniously prop mine up on my bed, sleeping with him curled in the crook of my arm until Christmas morning. I would whisper my secrets in his plastic ear and remind him of my wish list each night, as I waited with growing impatience for "the big day."

Now Thanksgiving is over, and I have no excuse left to put off my Christmas preparations. I don’t sleep with my Santa anymore, but I do put him out as a reminder not to cry or pout during the frenzied weeks ahead. And the older I get, the less Christmas is about Santa and the more it’s about the Messiah.

Today was the first Sunday in the liturgical season of Advent. Advent means “coming,” and as Christians we’re reminded to be preparing our hearts for His coming, once as a baby in a manger, and soon as the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace that we so long for. Our annual celebration of the birth of the Christ isn’t just a sweet story we relive each year, but the past truth our future hope is rooted in.

Let every heart prepare Him room.

The people walking in darkness
have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of the shadow of death
a light has dawned.

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Of the increase of his government and peace
there will be no end.
He will reign on David's throne
and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it
with justice and righteousness
from that time on and forever.
The zeal of the LORD Almighty
will accomplish this.

~ Isaiah 9: 2, 6-7 (NIV)

Overwhelmed by Thanksgiving

I have a couple of dear friends who emailed me this week asking if there was a Thanksgiving blog entry in the works. There wasn’t, but I didn’t want to let my faithful readers down. So I started asking God for a heart message about this, my favorite holiday.

Oddly enough, what I got wasn’t a neatly wrapped blog about all of the reasons I am (or should be) thankful this Thanksgiving, but rather this one question: Why am I not more thankful the other 364 days of the year?

I revisited my Thanksgiving post from last November because I didn’t want to repeat myself, but I can’t help it. There are two perennial truths that are unavoidable:

1. "From each individual breath we take to our very lives, and everything in-between...it's all from God, and it's all good.”

2. “I pray we will all have thankful hearts, each and every day.”

It appears that change for change's sake is a bad idea when it comes to gratitude. I still haven’t answered the question though. Why am I not more thankful the other 364 days of the year?

I am glad every day for so many things in my life…so many blessings straight from the hand of God. But I know I could be still more grateful if I only recognized that all of the good things in my life—every good thing—is from God. They’re not by accident, and they're certainly not by my efforts. His goodness abounds, and it is almost too much to wrap my mind, much less my heart, around.

So this year my prayer for myself, and for you, is for an awareness of the gifts in every moment, and that we may be overwhelmed with Thanksgiving!

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. ~ James 1:17 (NIV)

Thank You

Yesterday I met a remarkable young woman I see almost every day on TV. Rebecca Pepin is a local news anchor and editor of the book, Faces of Freedom—Profiles of America’s Fallen Heroes, Iraq and Afghanistan. This week we welcomed her to our church, where she spent some time sharing her story, and how this powerful book came about.

Rebecca’s story is compelling, particularly in light of Faces of Freedom. Born in Canada, she became an American on October 27, 2006. Gaining citizenship in the United States is not a quick and easy process, and she does not take her identity as an American lightly. In fact, I would dare to say immigrants who have earned their citizenship are far less likely than the rest of us to ever take it for granted.

The creation of the book itself is also an extraordinary story, and it was a truly collaborative effort. It profiles 52 fallen heroes—one from each state, as well as from the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico. Men and women from all branches of our military are remembered by contributing writers across the country. Many sponsors helped finance the endeavor, and all proceeds from sales of the book go to Fisher House Foundation and Wounded Warrior Project. Fisher House Foundation builds “comfort homes” on the grounds of major military and VA medical centers. Wounded Warrior Project strives to raise consciousness of the needs of military service men and women who’ve been severely injured in the line of duty, and enlist the public’s aid for these valiant servants.

But the most forceful stories of all lie between the pages of Faces of Freedom. Rebecca will tell you her goal was to put faces to the numbers of fallen soldiers…numbers we have almost become desensitized to as the wars have continued. Personal histories, letters, photos, family anecdotes… All of the signposts of young lives lost are here, and I am humbled and filled with gratitude as I read each profile.

In her introduction to Faces of Freedom, Rebecca writes:

“The primary purpose of this book is to raise money to benefit veterans, through Fisher House and Wounded Warrior Project, and to heighten awareness about the sacrifice and selflessness of our troops. These men and women are not just numbers. They were our friends and neighbors, and the loved ones of our fellow Americans. While only 52 fallen heroes are featured here, Faces of Freedom is a tribute to all that have made the ultimate sacrifice so that we—and our future generations—may live in peace, security, and freedom.”

So on the eve of Veteran’s Day, it seems appropriate to encourage you to visit Rebecca Pepin’s website—www.rebeccapepin.com—and, if you’re able, to purchase a book (or several). You’ll not only be riveted by the stories, but you’ll be contributing to two great causes. (Copies of Faces of Freedom would make great Christmas gifts, too!)

Rebecca also includes this wartime prayer from Eleanor Roosevelt in her opening comments:

“Dear Lord,
Lest I continue
My complacent way,
Help me to remember that somewhere,
Somehow out there
A man died for me today.
As long as there be war,
I then must
Ask and answer,
Am I worth dying for?”

It’s a powerful question on Veterans’ Day and everyday. I don’t know the answer, but I can at least say thank you to all of those who have served and are serving today, and their families. If you have the chance to do the same tomorrow, I hope you take it.

Photo 1: Faces of Freedom cover
Photo 2: Rebecca Pepin
Photo 3: Rebecca and Ruth McGlothlin, mother of fallen Marine Ryan McGlothlin, Lebanon, Virginia.

Election Day

Election Day. What did it mean to you?

If you’re a school-age kid or a government worker, maybe it was just a day off. But if you were able to vote, I hope it meant your chance to exercise the freedom our founding fathers and soldiers have fought to ensure for you.

When it’s all said and done tonight, I don't really care who you voted for (even though I did think it would have been amusing for both sides to have a post-voting sticker that read, “I Cancelled Out Your Vote”). In fact, I told several people today that I just plain love Election Days. I would drive across three counties to vote for Dog Catcher!

The main thing is, you and I both had the opportunity and privilege to make our voices heard today by voting in a democratic election. That’s a wonderous thing, no matter which side you’re on. And ultimately, we’re all on the same side again.

God bless America.

Photograph: Getty Images

Waiting

I have always had a thing for pumpkins. When my cousins and I were kids, my Granddaddy Settle would plant a whole field of them on his farm in Southside Virginia just so he could have the pleasure of watching his grandchildren run through the vines in autumn, seeking out their "perfect" pumpkin for Halloween. Naturally, when we were young the rule of thumb for picking a pumpkin to carve was size and, to the dismay of our parents, bigger was always better!

When I grew older and had children of my own, I enjoyed the pumpkin carving tradition just as much, but from a different perspective. I always urged Ben and Hannah to opt for a "friendly" face over a scary one, but truth be told it didn't matter to me, because it was all about them. We never had trick-or-treaters. Our house was too out of the way, in the woods up a rough gravel and dirt road. Still, we carved our Jack O'Lantern and I bought candy...just in case.

Fast forward a few years and everyone's older, meaning the kids have caught onto the idea that trick-or-treating in subdivisions is much more lucrative than trick-or-treating in Brumley Gap. We still carved pumpkins and bought candy. But after that we piled in the Suburban and headed for town. And I started buying more pumpkins, so when the Jack O'Lantern was compost I would still have bright, beautiful, firm pumpkins to color my world when all of the leaves had fallen in late November.

Tonight my kids are enjoying Halloween elsewhere. It is, after all, probably the biggest holiday on college campuses across America. Hannah is a ladybug and Ben is the dead guy from the movie, "Weekend at Bernie's." And I didn't carve a Jack O'Lantern this year. So my pumpkins, large and small, may just last until my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving. I bought candy, but as usual I've had no takers.

It's probably no surprise that, as a kid so taken with gourds, one of my favorite seasonal television treats was, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Charles Schulz was a genius, and in his 1966 classic (which, according to the Wikipedia entry, preempted "My Three Sons" that year), the Peanuts gang celebrates Halloween minus Linus and Sally, who are waiting in a pumpkin patch for "The Great Pumpkin" to appear. Long story short, The Great Pumpkin never makes an appearance and Sally's not happy with Linus, to put it mildly. But he hangs tough, vowing that next year will be different. In one of my favorite lines, Charlie Brown tries to comfort Linus, telling him, "I've done a lot of stupid things in my life, too."

It may be a cartoon, but Linus’ vigil reminds me of our own, as Christians waiting for Jesus to return. At times it may feel futile, and yes, non-believers may even ridicule us, saying it’s a “stupid” cause. But I’m trusting in Christ’s promises. After all, we’re not talking about the Great Pumpkin, but the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. So here are six ways the two differ. (Please, don’t send comments about how blasphemous this is. Just stay with me...)

Six Ways Jesus Is Different From The Great Pumpkin

1. You can’t “carve” Jesus into whatever you want him to be.

2. You can’t blow out his light.

3. He’s the vine, not the fruit.

4. He’s unchanging, unlike a pumpkin that grows, peaks, then withers away.

5. His seeds produce wisdom, love, and mercy.

6. He is coming back!

Like pumpkins, but love Jesus. And never, ever give up on waiting for Him.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. You heard me say, 'I am going away and I am coming back to you.' If you loved me, you would be glad that I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I. I have told you now before it happens, so that when it does happen you will believe.” ~ John 14:27-29 (NIV)

Taking a Stand

I live in place where you’re all but legally required to declare your allegiance to one of two colleges: University of Tennessee or Virginia Tech. So let it be known that I am a fan of my father’s alma mater, Virginia Tech (or VPI, as it was called back in the day). I tease my friend Debbie because she has a cozy blanket that sports the UT logo and colors on one side and VT’s on the other. She graduated from Virginia Tech, but is a big fan of the Lady Vols basketball team, and her daughter Sarah also recently graduated from Tennessee. So depending on who’s playing any given evening or weekend, Debbie can curl up on the sofa with the right gear.

These two schools never even meet on the football field, but the divide isn’t just collegiate. It’s a tale of two states, and Bristol is a city divided right down the middle of its downtown by State Street, where my daughter took this picture at the Rhythm & Roots music festival last month. Bristolians have to choose between living in Virginia or Tennessee, and sometimes the people even go so far as to buy their tomatoes according to what state they were grown in. (I’m not kidding.)

People take a stand on a whole host of personal issues, from coffee vs. tea (coffee, please) to mountain vs. beach vacations (since I live in the mountains, I’ll pick the beach). The church is especially prone to division on issues like contemporary or traditional worship, King James or NIV Bibles, and baptism by dunking or sprinkling.

And with a presidential election just days away now, the clamor to take a stand for the candidate or party of your choice is reaching a fever pitch. Obviously, who wins is important. But no matter who’s in the Oval Office, it’s who’s on the Throne of Grace that matters even more, Amen? That said, I received this list of “predictions” in an email recently:

TEN PREDICTIONS NO MATTER WHO WINS THE ELECTION:

1. The Bible will still have all the answers.

2. Prayer will still work.

3. The Holy Spirit will still move.

4. God will still inhabit the praises of His people.

5. There will still be God-anointed preaching.

6. There will still be singing of praise to God.

7. God will still pour out blessings upon His people.

8. There will still be room at the Cross.

9. Jesus will still love you.

10. Jesus will still save the lost.

I don’t know about you, but these truths give me some welcomed perspective for the next 10 days. So no matter who you’re voting for President, you can get out there and campaign for Christ, in your homes, workplaces, and communities, through word and deed. We’re called to run the race, and there’s no question that He’s going to win!

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. ~ Hebrews 12:1 (NIV)

Don't Panic

www.nataliedee.com

What a week. You'd have to be living in a cave (unlikely, since you're reading this) not to be aware of our downward spiraling economy, and concerned about how it affects you. The stock market's wild swings have felt like a carnival ride, and the resulting media frenzy has been enough to make you dizzy with fear. I got off of the treadmill at the gym last night more stressed out from watching the nightly news than I was when I got on 30 minutes earlier!

I recognize, as well as any of us can, the magnitude of the problem. But I still have to believe the glass is half full. (Have you been watching gas prices this week?) It's a healthy and wise thing to be concerned. But the question is, where are you on the "anxiety scale" of 1 to 10?

Apparently the only AP file photos suitable to accompany bad stock market news are variations on this one, although this is the worst I've seen this week. No one wants to see the guy handling their retirement money making this face! All the same, as my friend Connie reminded me today, "Life can be hard and doesn't always go the way we think it will—yet Jesus is still Lord." She also said she's quit praying about finances, and instead is just praying for Him to grow her trust and obedience. That was a powerful witness to me.

She shared these thoughts with me in response to some lyrics and scripture I emailed to her earlier in the week. A few years ago Amy Grant put out a collection of old hymns done in a new way (I love those). It's called, "Legacy," and more times than I can count, when I've had a heavy heart, "Fields of Plenty" will come up on my iPod. Amy sings a couple of verses from, "Be Still My Soul"...

Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
leave to thy God to order and provide;
in every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heavenly friend
through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: Thy God doth undertake
to guide the future, as He has in past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
all now mysterious will be bright at last.

Sweet music, and a balm to my soul...and if that weren't enough of a reminder to trust God, Amy Grant quotes the very verse I cling to when I'm struggling:

Delight yourselves in the Lord, yes, and find your joy in Him. Be known for your gentleness, and never forget the nearness of our God. And don't worry, whatever's going to come...Just tell God every detail. And the peace of God that no one understands will come to you. No, don't worry...just tell Him every detail, and His peace will come to you." ~ Philippians 4:4-7

So yes...BE CONCERNED. But I just wanted to remind everyone that there's an alternative to panic. Because apart from Jesus, none of us really have anything.


Photo: A broker on ICAP's dealing floor calls for prices on October 9, 2008 in London, England. Peter Macdiarmid/Getty

In the Blink of an Eye

Have you ever seen one of those little books with the illustrations on each page which appear animated when you riffle the pages quickly from beginning to end? I used to have one have that featured a dancing couple, and the idea that I could make them twirl and spin and dip their way through a virtual ballroom absolutely fascinated me.

If I could dig through my photo albums and find just the right pictures of my son, I imagine I could create a wondrous book of his life thus far, from infancy to adulthood. And I could make the pages from September 29, 1987 to September 29, 2008 flutter by over and over again, reliving memories that seem as though they were made only yesterday.

When you have babies, people far wiser than you are at the time (people who aren't sleep-deprived) warn that you'd better pay good attention, because the time will fly by and your children will be grown and gone in a flash. I'm a living witness to the truth of their words today, the day before my son turns 21. It's one of God's greatest mysteries, how we got from the photo of the toddler, just up from his nap (he was a wonderful sleeper), clinging to his beloved blankie and his last pacifier, to the handsome young man in his college fraternity portrait. My compliant child, he grew up in spite of me.

So happy birthday Ben. I love you, I'm proud of you, and I can't wait to see your future unfold. And don't forget what I told you when you were a senior in high school: Always remember whose you are.
Here are 21 more great bits of advice on your 21st birthday...

"Use what talents you possess—the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best." ~ Henry Van Dyke

"The best way out is always through." ~ Robert Frost

"Start by doing what's necessary, then what's possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible." ~ Francis of Assisi

"Sometimes you've got to jump off cliffs and grow wings on the way down." ~ Ray Bradbury

"The first rule is to keep an untroubled spirit. The second is to look things in the face and know them for what they are." ~ Marcus Aurelius

"The only ones among you who will be truly happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve." ~ Albert Schweitzer

"Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." ~ Psalm 37:4

"Overnight success takes a long time." ~ Stephen Jobs

"We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing." ~ George Bernard Shaw

"Do the ordinary things in an extraordinary way." ~ George Allen

"If you think it's hard to meet new people, try picking up the wrong golf ball." ~ Jack Lemmon

"Whether you think you can or you can't, you're absolutely right." ~ Henry Ford

"The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing." ~ Zephaniah 3:17

"Once the mind has been stretched by a new idea, it will never again return to its original size." ~ Oliver W. Holmes

"Where there is great love there are always miracles." ~ Willa Cather

"I never look at the masses as my responsibility. I look at the individual. I can only love one person at a time." ~ Mother Teresa

"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not be faint." ~ Isaiah 40:31

"A ship in the harbor is safe - but that is not what ships are made for." ~ John A. Shedd

"The best things in life are free." ~ Cole Porter

"All things are possible with God." ~ Mark 10:27

"You are a child of your heavenly father. Your faith in His love and power can never be bold enough." ~ Basilea Schlink

More Is More

I'm in a rut. I can't stop eating tomato sandwiches for supper, and it's all my co-worker Lisa's fault. She sent me a link to this website, and that was the beginning of my obsession.

See, I was raised on tomato sandwiches (along with cucumbers in vinegar, Brunswick stew, and fried oysters), so the website she innocently passed along was bound to strike a chord deep inside. We're talking comfort food...flavors that bring childhood memories rushing back to your mind...meals you'd forgotten could taste so amazing.

This week, my tomato sandwiches have been made of toasted sourdough wheat bread from the Farmer's Market, mayo, homegrown tomatoes (again, from the Farmer's Market), plenty of garlic salt and freshly ground pepper, and the piece de resistance—a melted slice of Provolone cheese. Lisa's recipe provided me with a revelation: Toasting the bread creates an entirely new sort of tomato sandwich, one that won't dissolve into a soggy mess before you can finish eating it—Eureka! And when I googled, "perfect tomato sandwich," I came up with a lot of delicious sounding variations.

My Granna Settle's tomato roll was a modification of the tomato sandwich my mother made. When my Granna died 11 years ago I grieved, among other reasons, because I would miss our long phone conversations, her unconditional love, and her yeast rolls. To enjoy one of her fresh rolls one more time, slathered with mayonnaise and adorned with a thick, juicy slab of tomato (courtesy of my Granddaddy, who annually grew enough tomatoes for all of Italy)...well, that would be a little slice of heaven.

Are you seeing a connection? It's so easy to get hung up on something that touches you deeply on an emotional level, and it's natural to want to keep evoking that same pleasurable response over and over. But there are two problems with the emotional connection...

First, you're bound to burn out eventually. There will come a day when I can't bear the thought of eating another tomato sandwich. And only time will tell if I'll recover from the excess, or if tomato sandwiches will be off of my personal menu forever.

The second potential problem with going overboard is that you may miss out on the present by focusing on the future. For example, what happens when the tomato harvest is over, and my tomato choices are reduced to pale, mealy imitations of the real thing? If I'm worried about that scenario while I'm eating my juicy tomato sandwich now, well, where's the joy in that? I suspect Peter experienced something similar during the transfiguration, related in Matthew 17:1-5 (NIV):

After six days Jesus took with him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light. Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus.

Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah."

While he was still speaking, a bright cloud enveloped them, and a voice from the cloud said, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!"

In other words, Peter thought, "WOW, this is AMAZING. If I can just get these shelters built, I can show everyone how the prophecy is unfolding and the Feast of the Tabernacles is being brought full circle the coming of God's kingdom, AND I can make the moment last."

But that wasn't the plan, according to God. He said, "Peter...STOP. This is my SON....pay attention to THIS moment!"

When my kids and their cousins were growing up, everyone I knew had video cameras, and countless childhood moments were immortalized forever in film (all of which now need to be transferred to DVDs). I didn't have a camcorder though, mostly because I just always felt like I would be trading the present joy of experiencing the moment for looking through a lens, worrying about lighting and background noise.

Are you enjoying the "here and now" moments God graces you with? Or are you worried about where your next homegrown tomato is coming from? Life is a series of moments, some incredibly special, some not so much. But that's life, and to spend all of your time looking ahead (or worse, behind) is just sad. So seize the moment, or "carpe momento!"

Photo 1: Tomato sandwich image by Elizabeth Passarella, www.thekitchn.com
Photo 2: My fraternal grandparents, Walker & Frances Settle
Photo 3: My nephew, Noah Secor

Turn, Turn, Turn

This week, watching Sarah Palin electrify the Republicans at their national convention, I could almost imagine myself living in Alaska and being darned proud of it. But that was only an idle daydream, because I love being a Virginian too much.

I am glad to live in a state—no, commonwealth—that is rich in history…one of the original 13 colonies, and one that produced four of the first five presidents, at that. And, although we’re traditionally conservative, I confess I like living in a state that could go red or blue…a place presidential candidates will have to pay attention to, or else.

We stood with the South in the Civil War, but we’re not so insensitive we automatically assume you take your iced tea sweet. And if you’d you’re hungry for some local flavor, how about our seafood, peanuts, ham, apples, or Brunswick stew, just to name a few of our specialities?

Virginia spans the geological spectrum, from the majestic Blue Ridge mountains to the shores of the Chesapeake Bay, and everything in between. My father raised his garden in the red Piedmont clay of the same Virginia where my grandaddy made his living growing tobacco in Southside’s sandy soil. And I probably shouldn’t say this, with hurricanes roaming the Atlantic, but natural disasters are relatively rare here in Virginia.

Still, I think what I love the most about Virginia are its seasons. I can’t imagine living in a place where the months merge into one another with no clearly defined seasons. My favorite is fall, its warm afternoons filled with golden light filtering through jewel-toned leaves. The crisp nights, with frost in the air and crickets chirping, lend a sense of urgency to autumn…a warning to gather in crops, friends, and family before the cold of winter is upon us.

For me, the first part of winter is fun and festive, busy with Christmas celebrations. The rest of the season is in stark contrast—still and quiet, occasionally surprising me with billiantly faceted snowflakes and icy air that takes my breath away. Winter is a time to rest and regenerate. Spring is a tease, just as harsh as winter at times, but also giving glimpses of new life and better days for our winter-weary hearts. I celebrate Easter, the risen Messiah, and the colors begin to fill in the landscape. The promise is fulfilled, in our hearts and surroundings. Then, in a flash, summer is upon us, seeming to arrive unannounced and leave just as quickly. It’s a fast and furious season of activity, although I remember it being much lazier when I was a child.

Maybe my soul yearns for the structure of seaons because I recognize that they also make up the structure of our lives. We compare youth with “spring chickens,” and when we grow older we liken our lives to autumn, again with a sense of urgency to check things off of our “bucket list” before the winter of our old age.

But within the larger calendar of our lives are a multitude of seasons we travel through—seasons of learning, waiting, parenting, new endeavors, love, grief, perserverance, enlightenment, frustration, anger, joy—as many seasons as there are emotions, and more. Often they overlap. A season of waiting and grief may go hand-in-hand, as surely do parenting and new endeavors.

My children are in seasons of learning and new endeavors. In retrospect, I tell them these will be some of the best years of their lives, but I doubt they take me seriously. Oh, to be in college again, with a huge expanse of possibility stretching out before me like the horizon when you stand on the beach between the safety of the sand and the unknown that is the ocean.

My season of “hands on” parenting is finished, and the idea of that makes me sad. I threw myself into being a mother with my whole being for the past 21 years. But now I can not only look ahead to the next seasons in my life, I can also take joy in watching my children experience this season of their lives. It’s a double blessing, and I’m thankful for it.


"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven." ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NIV)

Note: Our Hannah has been asking to have her nose pierced with a small stud for the past year. I said no, with all of the parental advisement I could muster: "It'll get infected...You'll have to stick your finger up your nose, for heaven's sake...What about your first job interview? You'll have a scar!" But she turned 18 last month, and I think she knew, to tell the truth, that if that was the worst I had to deal with, I would be ok.

Time Warp

Time flies, and so do our children (at least, that's the plan).

Happy 18th, Hannah Banana! Here are your birthday haiku:

Hannah Morgan Link,
We blinked and you're all grown up—
Our amazing girl.

"Hurricane Hannah"
Still taking the world by storm!
Heading to college...

Couldn't love you more,
Couldn't be more proud of you.
Spread those wings and fly!



"Our daughters will be like pillars, carved to adorn a palace. ~ Psalm 144:12 (NIV)

Homeward Bound

This is my friend Steve. We met Sunday, when he visited our church, and I spoke to him again briefly Monday morning, when I took these photos of him heading out of town. It’s highly unlikely we’ll meet again this side of heaven, but I have no doubt I will see him there.

Steve is a pretty remarkable guy. After worship and over a cup of coffee (something he indulges in way too much), he told me he grew up in foster care, and admitted that he got into a lot of trouble when he was younger. But he also told me when, through the miracle of prevenient grace, he heard God calling his name, he answered yes, and it changed his life.

A changed life isn’t always an easier life. In this world, Steve is considered homeless. He travels around without an itinerary, riding his bike and pulling all of his earthly possessions, including his well-worn Bible, behind him in a small cart. He’ll be the first to tell you his life isn’t comfortable. Aside from the obvious hardships of his nomadic existence, people—even those who claim to emulate Jesus—can be downright mean. If you ask him why he thinks that is, he’ll say, “They don’t understand because they don’t know me. But I say, ‘I’m right here…take the time to get to know me!’”

In our Sunday School class Steve pointed out that there are a lot of people who claim to be following the Lord when they’re really not (and we agreed wholeheartedly). But he's also quick to point out that "Jesus is in everything." In fact, rather than asking for prayers for himself, Steve asked us to pray for a man named Dennis, a drug addict he believes God led him to for the sole purpose of sharing the gospel.

How can it be that we are living lives of such material abundance but are so oblivious to God working all around us? It’s incomprehensible when you consider this man, who has so little but is keenly aware of God’s presence in his life. Is it possible that the true meaning of abundant living is being made manifest in Steve’s life because he allows himself to be used for God’s glory, regardless of his circumstances?

When I asked Steve if I could take his picture he readily agreed, with one condition: that his “Jesus is Lord” plate be clearly visible in the photo. That was fine with me, but I’m not sure he needs that plate to let people know where he stands. In fact, I’m not even sure I would call Steve “homeless.” Just before he pedaled off toward Damascus, he told me he wasn’t too fond of this world. But as I reminded him…we’re not home yet.

Godspeed, Steve.

“But in keeping with His promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness.”
~ 2 Peter 3:13

I Had No Idea

www.nataliedee.com

Guess who sent me this cartoon...

Can You Identify?

When I set up this blog over a year ago, I created a profile and listed many of the hats I wear. At the time, I thought it was a pretty accurate representation of who I am, but now I’m not so certain... Sure, I’m a mother/daughter/ sister/aunt/friend, among other things, but that’s who I am to other people. Who am I in the grander scheme of things? Who am I to myself? Who am I to the One who created me??

In an ironic twist of time, my youngest child graduated from high school in May, and last weekend I attended my 30th high school class reunion. I had a good time, but I was struck by how predictable the interactions were between my former classmates. A lot of us had been to prior reunions, but some of us hadn’t seen each other in 30 years. Either way, the conversation inevitably went something like this: “So, where are you now? What are you doing? Married? And what about kids?”

Is that really all there is to us? I love where I have lived for the past 25 years, but there’s a whole lot of world out there that I haven't experienced yet. Shouldn’t I always be ready to pick up and go wherever God calls me to go (except maybe Africa)?

I will always love being a parent, and I hope Ben and Hannah know deep in their hearts that I’ll always be there for them. But a mother’s job description is constantly changing and, as any really good mother knows, if she's doing it right, she's working herself out of a job. With both of my children in college this fall, my parenting self will be taking a step into the background, leaving room for a new facet of my personality to catch the light.

And at the age of 48, I am comfortable (excited, even) saying, “I am a writer.” I graduated from Radford University with a degree in Journalism, and have always used some elements of my college training in my career. But it’s only in the past three years, working as an advertising and public relations copywriter, that I’ve been able to earn a paycheck doing what my diploma says I can do: write. Freelance writing and creative writing like this are the icing on the cake.

The fact is, it's easier to identify who we are during some seasons of our lives than others. And in retrospect, there is no pat answer to the question, “Who are you?” All of us are made up of different characteristics that meld together to create who we are. But without being grounded in something bigger, all of our attempts to accurately express our individuality will fail.

Before all of the other parts I play and list in my profile, I lay claim to being a “princess servant, a child of the King.” To know you are royalty and privileged to serve your Heavenly Father is an amazing and wondrous thing, and it gives meaning to all of the other roles that classify us in this world. Can you identify?

“And I will be your Father, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.” ~ 2 Corinthians 6:18

Good Intentions

Whatever happened to the lazy, hazy days of summer? Ok, hazy still often applies during the summer months in these mountains of Southwest Virginia. But somewhere along the way the lazy days I remember so sweetly from my youth slipped away…

Yesterday, my nephew Noah’s Cub Scout Pack caravanned up from their somewhat more urban North Carolina surroundings and landed in my neck of the woods with plans to bike along the Creeper Trail from Whitetop to Damascus, Virginia. I met them in Damascus and brought my sister-in-law, Kimberly, back to Abingdon for lunch at Pop Ellis Soda Shoppe & Grill—the newest hot spot in town for lunch. After enjoying a couple of grilled pimento cheese sandwiches, we made a too-quick tour of the Virginia Highlands Festival ...just long enough for Kimberly to purchase the obligatory bag of kettle corn, which I suspect didn’t even make it to Wytheville on their trip home. Then it was time to head back to Damascus and meet the trail-weary boys (and men). Everyone made it off of the mountain in one piece—victory!

On my way home, I stopped at our local vineyard. I'd talked with friends about taking an after-work trip to Abingdon Vinyard and Winery, but we hadn't made it happen yet. So I took the opportunity to go on my own (hey, I was in the neighborhood). My only regret this visit was that I didn’t have time to take a tour and enjoy a glass of wine in the shade beside the South Holston River. At home later, as I was riding in my own personal rodeo, leveling my weeds (you’ll understand if you’re a regular reader), I thought, “This was a good day.”

Today was another good day. Filled with worship, music, and a sweet infant baptism at historic Madam Russell United Methodist Church in Saltville, Virginia. (Welcome to God's big, wonderful world Anna Marie Patman Petty!) My day may not have been lazy, but it was definitely another one to savor. Grilling chicken on my back deck in the cool of the evening, I recognized one of many differences between my childhood and my adult years: The days of summer don’t stretch out endlessly for me anymore, with absolutely nothing to do. Now there’s always more to do than I can get done. But to truly make the most of each day, I have to be intentional about enjoying all of the gifts God sends my way.

With my youngest heading off to college in a month, I’m making a vow to be intentional about some things I’ve let slide lately… I want to be intentional about writing, and that includes more blog posts. I want to be intentional about reading more good books, trying new recipes, staying in touch with friends, and enjoying the many cultural opportunities my community has to offer. I want to be intentional about seeing the BIG PICTURE. And I want to be intentional about listening to God and being available to Him, wherever He may lead me.

“Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.” ~ Psalm 34:8 (NIV)

Hope for All

A traditional July 4th brings to mind flags, cookouts, parades, and fireworks. This year I was invited to a true red, white, and blue cookout at beloved matriarch Betty Dolinger's house, where family and friends gathered to enjoy each other’s company and count their blessings. I fall in the “friends” category, but I’m just waiting for the day when I discover I’m actually related, albeit distantly, to the huge Dolinger clan. In spite of the rain (which we counted as a blessing), there was much hugging and laughter, and I felt blessed to be there. I was especially humbled when the children climbed onto a bench, flags in hand and resembling Olympic medal winners, for us to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. And I was very grateful to be in the circle when we all held hands around the picnic tables and Betty gave thanks. God is good.

Earlier this week I was blessed to be part of a very different sort of gathering. Twenty-three Ugandan children, ranging in age from 5 to 12 and rescued from lives of poverty, visited my home church to sing and dance their hearts out to the glory of God. Hope for Africa Children’s Choir and Academy, touring the United States through the end of this month, was created when United Methodist Bishop Daniel Wandabula asked Lydia Namageme and Tonny Mbowa, both orphans once themselves, before being rescued and made part of the African Children’s Choir, if they would be interested in building a new African children’s choir. They both answered with a resounding yes, and Hope for Africa was born. Lydia Namageme, known to the children as Auntie Lydia, is the conductor and manager for the choir and school; Tonny Mbowa serves as the choir’s director.

There is so much I could say about these children, taken from refugee camps in a country that has seen Civil War for 20 years. Many have lost one or both parents, and all have seen much suffering. That they are in our country now, fed, clothed, and being educated and loved on by everyone they come in contact with, speaks volumes about God’s goodness, both in their lives and ours. Their performances are amazing; they practically vibrate with excitement while they’re singing God’s praises and dancing for Him. They each have a personal testimony, and they all have high aspirations for the future. These children know exactly what they want to be when they grow up, and when they are adults back in their own country, they really will be the hope of Africa.

But as I watched them singing and dancing, this was the truth that God laid on my heart: These children know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, where they came from and where they’re going. They remember the dire circumstances from which God lifted them up, and they know what Jesus has done for them, changing their present and securing their future. I only wish I was always so mindful of my testimony.

One of their songs included these lyrics: “The Holy Spirit will come down, and Africa will be saved.” But in the same song they sang, “The Holy Spirit will come down, and America will be saved.”

I believe there is always hope, no matter where we live, as long as we let the Holy Spirit take the lead. Give God freedom in your life.

If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land. ~ 2 Chronicles 7:14 (NIV)