ANTSY

Bathroom visitors...what were
they hungry for? Toothpaste?

 "Antsy”--the word means “restless, fidgety”--and we were definitely restless and fidgety a few weeks ago when they swarmed into the kitchen. Not two by two, either. Total battleground. We didn't stop to count them but grabbed the spray and poison disks to declare war on these minuscule black critters. It was my fault 😕. I had left on the counter a little ceramic honey dispenser shaped like a bear, with a slot for the serving twirler stick. It wasn't air tight. Or ant tight. What's that saying, “If you build it, they will come”? In our case, it was, “If you leave it out, they will come!” Not just the kitchen, either. They found their way to the bathroom, where I quickly left the poison disk to satisfy their appetites. “Be sure to take some goodies back to your queen,” I told them—not that they heard. As retirees who try to be thrifty, we tend to be do-it-yourself folks. The $70 professional spray is a hunk of money (which rhymes with "honey"). So we decided to do chemical battle and sanitize anything that might have had a scent of "follow me to the golden pot." A few days later, the battle was pretty much over.

I was amused by a recent public television show that featured people (bug scientists) who make a big deal out of ants. They love going to remote places where ants build condos taller than a person. They revel in the organizational abilities of ants—all somehow built into their DNA by our Creator God. No wonder they garnered commendation in Proverbs 30:24-38 with some other animals. “Cronies” (rock badgers) were praised for wise building, locusts for cooperation, and lizards about fearlessness. And ants, praised for their innate sense of preparation: “Ants are creatures of strength, yet they store up their food in the summer” (v. 25). Ants also got proverbial “ink” in chapter 6:

Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores in provisions in summer, and gathers its food at harvest. (vv. 6-7)

That observation is followed by a rebuke to the “sluggard” to get with it! If tiny, seemingly insignificant ants scurry about with this internal work ethic without a boss man nearby—getting ready for the lean feeding times of winter—can we do less when God calls us to excellence in our tasks? Another commentator remarked about how ants carry loads far bigger than they are. I've witnessed that, too—and the lesson for me was 1 Peter 5:7: “Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you.” When my daily burdens—concern for others, the daily drudge of life's tasks, health challenges and other things that “weigh on me”--get me down, well, God waits to carry that burden for me.

My scripture reading during this pandemic has repeatedly taken me to verses that I memorized or meditated on in previous times of trials. As they encourage or instruct me again, I find myself saying, “Thanks for the reminder, Lord.” I'm glad I “stored up” that spiritual food for these times when pandemic fears nibble at my faith.

“Look to the ant”?--oh yes. Except when they pollute my honey jar....

GET THE POINT

We were browsing a thrift store in a little farm community when I spotted these unusual cowboy boots. They made me think of the extreme pointed toe shoes that came into vogue in my young adulthood, and are still around with their skinny stiletto heels. As someone with foot problems that require (ugh) orthotics and shoes with wide toe space, I have no “pointies” in my shoe collection. But what was the purpose of these boots?

Thanks to an internet search, I learned that these boots are special Mexican dancing boots. The longer the toe (and sometimes it's crafted to curl upward), the more impressive the boot. They're not cheap—typically crafted of exotic animal skins like alligator or armadillo.  They emerged as dance attire around 1880.

I also realized that history repeats itself. In medieval times, shoes with long, curled-up toes were typically worn by persons of royal blood or the upper class. They didn't need practical shoes since they sat around being important and wealthy while their servants did the cooking, cleaning, and farming.

Bottom line: these fancy boots I saw were for fancy solo dance moves. You wouldn't waltz with your sweetie in them unless she wanted bruised ankles. You wore these weird, impractical shoes to show off. These were no “white bucks” some may remember from the early Pat Boone era (half a century-plus ago!). They were built for parading one's dancing style to impress people.

Maybe you've been around people who act like that. Oh, they don't wear the pointy shoes, but they want to be noticed and applauded. I know the temptation. In my years of writing books and speaking at women's events, hearing applause and having people want your autograph were a version of “pointy shoes.” But they weren't to be my style. This phrase kept coming back to me for perspective: “I'm just a nobody exalting a Somebody.” These days, when I write someone, I often use the signature line, “In grace.” That's because I am here only by the grace of God. And in recent years I've dealt with people and problems that have shown me my need to keep growing in that virtue. I'm a Redeemed-Nobody in process under the care of a loving God. 

I have new appreciation for this scripture:

For by the grace [of God] given to me I say to everyone of you not to think more highly of himself [and of his importance and ability] than he ought to think; but to think so as to have sound judgment, as God has apportioned to each a degree of faith [and a purpose designed for service]. (Romans 12:3 Amplified)

I appreciate the Amplified Bible's careful translation of the Greek to emphasize that “faith” is not just believing in Jesus, but serving Him and living in a way that pleases Him. The emphasis is on humility and service. Yes, a bunch of nobodies (except for the grace of God) serving the great Somebody. No long-toe dancing boots required.

LOVE BLOOMED

 

Forty years ago this month, my husband Rich and I exchanged marriage vows in the little country church where his dad was part-time pastor. Our officiant was a pastor whose family was special to me in early adulthood, and who witnessed our love bloom, then fade when Rich didn't feel ready to support a wife. Almost a decade passed--hard years for me as my parents died while I was pursuing my career and education, ending up halfway across the nation. Then, long story short, our relationship rebloomed and I accepted his proposal. We were 34 and 36, both never married before. 

With my parents deceased and limited funds, I had no desire for a big wedding. Everything was pared down. Free use of the small church. A potluck lunch in lieu of wedding gifts. (As longtime singles, we'd already gathered enough housekeeping essentials.) A homemade wedding dress. A borrowed veil. And a bouquet from someone's garden: one white rose inside a puff of hydrangea. 

We all have our favorite flowers, and my affection for hydrangea goes back to my childhood when that plant grew outside my bedroom window. I've learned that hydrangea are famed for looking like a colony of butterflies. They're not “flowers,” in the sense of single blooms on a stem. They're considered an “inflorescence,” a group of flowers on a stem. The name comes from Greek and means “water vessel.” The Japanese call them “Ajisai,” meaning “water drinker.” And yes, they require a lot of water.

I've also learned that flowers are symbolic of emotions and hydrangeas are “gratitude” or “heartfelt emotions.” That fit my wedding day! White hydrangea symbolize the purity of innocent “first love.” Those would have been okay, too, but I favor the purplish/blue ones. Giving someone pink hydrangeas conveys appreciation for the recipient. Blue is linked to refusing a romantic offer, requesting forgiveness, and expressing regret. Oh my, if I'd known that, maybe I would have had second thoughts of carrying them for my wedding!

And here's another negative: all hydrangea contain cyanide and are toxic to people.

Thankfully, weddings aren't all about the flowers you carry! For us, getting back together was a statement about the grace of God. We chose as our wedding verse (and had someone with calligraphy skills prepare it to hang in our home) Psalm 34:3: “Magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together.”

I spent many years as a newspaper reporter, specializing in women's news and features. That included doing the “write-ups” of hundreds of weddings. Some were quite extravagant and in those “olden days” on a small-town daily, every detail possible was included, even descriptions of the bride's gown and bouquet. But such things are for a day. This broken world will someday end, but God is eternal. There will come a relationship and location that defies imagination, but it perfect and pleasing in every way. The transition is even symbolized as a wedding. In his vision of heaven, the aged apostle John wrote: “I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband" (Revelation 21:2).

Weddings in our time have become big business, with many couples and their families spending thousands on attire, flowers, bands, catering, and more. Others have become flippant, with elopements at tiny chapels with Elvis impersonators officiating. For us, not being flashy folks, ours was just right. We had the presence of people we cared about. And, like the symbolism of the flowers I carried, we had “gratitude” and “heartfelt emotions.”

LOVE THAT WON'T LET GO

The hymn's lyrics speak of tracing a
rainbow through the rain: just imagine it...

The history of hymn writers includes three who were blind: John Milton, blind at age 44; Fanny Crosby, blind since infancy, and George Matheson, whose vision rapidly failed as a teenager. Yet all possessed keen spiritual insight: Milton, author of the epic poem Paradise Lost; Crosby, author of thousands of hymn lyrics; and Matheson, esteemed Scottish preacher and author of the hymn lyrics for “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go.”

Born in 1842, Matheson's vision started to go in his teens, and he was totally blind by 18. Yet at 19 he graduated from the University of Glasgow. To enable him to finish his theology studies, his sister learned Hebrew, Latin and Greek. He finished seminary with high honors and was later assigned a parish at Innellan, a seaside resort in western Scotland. His faithful sister continued behind the scenes, helping him with sermon-study and other pastoral duties.

But his blindness also brought heartache. There are stories—not authenticated—that a young woman he hoped to marry broke their engagement when she realized he was going blind. Probably that hurt resurfaced years later, when he was forty, and his sister and faithful helper was married. On the day of her wedding, he wrote the hymn “O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go.” This is what he wrote later about its inspiration:

My hymn was composed in the manse of Innellan on the evening of the 6^th of June, 1882. I was at that time alone. It was the day of my sister's marriage, and the rest of the family were staying overnight in Glasgow. Something happened to me, which was known only to myself, and which caused me the most severe mental suffering. The hymn was the fruit of that suffering. It was the quickest bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the impression rather of having it dictated to me by some inward voice than of working it out myself. I am quite sure that the whole work was completed in five minutes, and equally sure it never received at my hands any retouching or correction. I have no natural gift of rhythm. All the other verses I have ever written are manufactured articles; this came like a dayspring from on high. I have never been able to gain once more the same fervor in verse.

Some phrases that suggest his earlier heartache, of blindness ending marriage hopes, includes “flickering torch,” “borrowed ray,” and the tracing of the “rainbow through the rain.” But he cast a vision of higher purpose to his pain, looking forward to eternity. With the risen Son of Righteousness, there will be no more darkness: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain” (Revelation 21:4). The more important words in Matheson's lyrics are love, light, joy, and cross.

The hymn was published a half year later in the Church of Scotland's monthly magazine. The tune was composed a year later by a prominent organist. He, too, sensed divine inspiration in composing the music. He wrote: “After reading it over carefully I wrote the music straight off and I may say that the ink of the first note was hardly dry when I had finished the tune.” It was first published in the 1885 Scottish hymnal.

Matheson—a big man whom some likened to America's General U.S. Grant-- would become the pastor of the 2,000-member St. Bernard Parish Church in Edinburgh and known as one of Scotland's most eloquent preachers. He even was invited to Balmoral to preach before Queen Victoria. Later in life he wrote some of the finest devotional literature in the English language as well as some other hymns. He died in 1906, in his 64^th year.

==========

Hear the late Danny Gaither--brother to widely-known Gospel musician Bill Gaither--sing this hymn about forty years ago:

O Love That Will Not Let Me Go Danny Gaither - Bing video

EDELWEISS

 

Did the title make you think back half a century to a sweet little song in the hit musical, "The Sound of Music"? I admit that the lullaby-like "Edelweiss" was one of my favorites, along with the Do-Re-Me song through which star "Maria" (Julie Andrews) taught her charges how to sing.  And I have something in my jewelry box to remember it: a real edelweiss on a necklace from Switzerland, homeland of my maternal aunt's husband. It's how I remember my Aunt Agnes, who spent much of her life teaching in Panama,  and where she and Uncle Willy met and married--both employees of a banana plantation.

But what of the edelweiss? Yes, it's a mountain flower that belongs to the daisy or sunflower family. But it prefers thin, cool air: rocky limestone places at about 5,900-9,800-feet altitude. Yes, high, rugged places. It blooms only between July and September. The hardy people who lived in the Alps and Carpathian mountains used it for traditional medicines to treat abdominal and respiratory diseases. But they had to search hard for it. It was scarce and short-lived. It eventually became a national symbol of those mountain countries, which of course included Austria, the setting for “The Sound of Music.” Embroidered likenesses of the flower decorated many military badges—thus the veiled message behind the film's Austrian military leader (“Captain Von Trapp”) who sang the song with his musical family before a daring escape from the Nazis.

Oh yes, it's associated with royal love. In 1856 the Austrian emperor Franz Joseph and his wife, Empress Elisabeth, went on a high mountain hike. He picked an edelweiss from a steep rock just for her. In 1865 the empress posed for a portrait with diamond jewelry depicting edelweiss in her hair.

I also think about this flower when I read a favorite old book, Hannah Hurnard's “Hind's Feet on High Places,” a classic fictional “journey” about growing in the Christian walk. Set in Switzerland, it draws lessons from the gorgeous scenery and scary aspects of alpine living. The author described “pure white flowers through whose half-transparent petals the sun shone, turning them to burning whiteness. In the heart of each flower was a crown of pure gold” (Tyndale/Living Books edition, paperback, p. 191). She didn't use the name “edelweiss” but the description fit. The author likened the flowers to heaven's “cloud of witnesses” in Hebrews 12:1. She also wrote that such alpine flowers "speak of the beautiful loving-kindnesses and tender mercies which [God} wants to shower on others through us" (p. 287).

About the time I was writing this blog, I heard from my nephew David, who enjoys metal crafting with around-the-shop things like nuts. He sent a photo of a metal flower he'd created for a family member. I remarked that if he'd done it in white and yellow, it would have some resemblance to an edelweiss. A few weeks later, here came one as a gift! I'm keeping it on my desk as a reminder that when I go through life's exhausting climb to eternity, it's the high places, where the going is tough (and the most beautiful blossoms of hope and trust grow), that bring me closer to sensing God's presence.

It's a truth I encounter often in scriptures. I'm to be rooted in Christ Jesus (Col. 2:7), depending on Him instead of my inadequate coping skills. Enduring hardship (like those alpine flowers enduring storms and thin soil) is part of following Christ (2 Tim. 4:5). And in the end, perseverance in trials will have its reward: the "crown of life that God has promised to those who love him" (James 1:7). That's the best analogy for these hardy, crown-like blooms.

Some years ago, someone wrote hymn words to the Edelweiss tune. I really liked them, and wrote them down in my devotional journal. The same for a spiritual adaptation of the "Do-re-me" song from that film. But I have learned I cannot share them in print because of copyright rules with heavy penalties.(1) Sorry. But someday, when Heaven voids all those man-made copyright rules, maybe they'll be among the praise songs we sing with robust voices, around the throne of God. “Sing a new song unto the Lord” we're told in various scriptures.* I can hardly wait.

*Psalms 33:3, 96:1, 98:1, 144.9, Isaiah 42:10.

1. Here is a discussion of the tune infringement: Discipleship Ministries | “Edelweiss” - A Song We Love But Must Not… (umcdiscipleship.org)

CUT HERE

 My mother was the consummate seamstress whose skills extended to men's suits and wedding dresses. The memories are faded now, but I'm sure she put every extension leaf in our dining table, spread the fabric, topped it with a flimsy paper pattern, and cut away. My “cutting surface” is a folding cardboard board on top of our guest bed. Although I don't sew much clothing now aside from pajamas and nightgowns for my grandchildren, my patterns are worn and torn.

A few weeks ago, as I twisted and turned the pattern pieces to fit my barely-enough piece of fabric, I mused about the Biblical passages about “patterns.” God doesn't leave anything to whim or chance. One big example was the building of Israel's first worship center, the Tabernacle, which the Israelites put up, disassembled, carried, put up, disassembled, carried...for nearly four decades in a desert. Finally, it found a resting place in the Promised Land. When they were building it, God warned Moses: “See to it that you make everything according to the pattern shown you on the mountain” (Exodus 25:40, quoted in Hebrews 8:5). Somehow, God communicated the whole building plan. It would be fresh, holy, and not at all like the pagan worship centers they'd seen in Egypt.

Just as God had specific ideas for His worship centers, He has specific instructions for human behavior. We're to be different—God-chosen people. The apostle Paul expressed it this way” “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will it—his good, pleasing and perfect will” (Romans 12:2).

Sometimes, I roll my eyes and ask, “What next?” as our culture sinks deeper into normalizing sinful, immoral, and selfish behavior. “Everybody's doing it” becomes the reason to do it, even when God drew the line for morality and propriety that should characterize His followers.

Sadly, it's nothing new. I have a sticky-note marker in several “behavior” passages of my Bible so I can review what God's standards are—and are not. Especially in his letter to the Ephesian church, Paul had to pull believers away from the common behaviors of their sin-soaked culture. In chapters 4 and 5 he dealt with:

*Mouth sins (lies, anger, unwholesome talk, slander, obscenity, foolish talk, coarse joking)

*Selfishness sins (greed, stealing, not doing honest work so they could share with the truly needy)

*Relational sins (bitterness, rage, anger, brawling, every form of malice)

*Moral sins (sexual immorality, every kind of impurity).

His conclusion was emphatic: “God's wrath comes on those who are disobedient. Therefore do not be partners with them” (Ephesians 5:7). In other words, don't let the world lay its pattern of sin and rebellion on the fresh cloth of God's love and righteousness.

How is that accomplished? One way, by letting our minds get saturated with scripture so we're attuned to “God's pattern.” Other ways: heeding the counsel and example of mature Christians. Paul expressed it this way in a letter to his protege Timothy—the old apostle's last written communication that we still have: “What you heard from me, keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Christ Jesus” (2 Timothy 1:13).

My current grandchild “pajama” projects feature designs with cats, penguins, and a Disney princess. Oh, the interests of these little kids who will outlive me, and impact their culture. I pray for them—that their moral and spiritual “pattern” will come out of the scriptures, and that they grow up to display their love of God through upright and caring behavior to those around them. In other words, “cut” right!

A 'DON'T QUIT' QUILT

Every year or so, when a really hot day comes our way, I wash the “Log Cabin” quilt I made for our bed. After the hour-long wash cycle has removed its dust and grime, I hang it up on my retractable clothesline—with PVC pipe to keep it from dragging--for its all-day drying. That's when I realize how amateur it is. Real quilters do “Log Cabin” the right way: with each block made of dark fabric strips on one half, and light the other side. They're anchored by a red center block, symbolizing the hearth of the home. As this picture shows, I did my own thing. Still, I hope it's a treasure my adult children will appreciate when I am gone.

I chose the pattern because it seemed an easy one for someone with medium sewing skills, but I veered from tradition by making the anchoring block a floral yellow, not red as for fire. Later, reading about the origin of this pattern, realized how important fire was. In her book Quilts from Heaven (B&H, 1999, 2007), my talented author-speaker friend Lucinda Secrest McDowell explained how this quilt pattern represented the pioneer history of its era—around 1810-1830. Pioneer women endured rustic homes, with those homesteading often starting with a house of sod. (Lucinda's fun remark: “How do you clean house when it's mud to begin with?”). Later came a log cabin of trees felled on the land, not sawn to precision in a computer-supervised mill. Thus, unique quilts of shaded colors and graded fabric strips.

But a deeper symbolism of the quilts is this, Lucinda noted. Those who consider themselves “home-makers” (and men are as much a part of the team as women) “also become builders of a sort: We build atmosphere; we build belonging; we build lives” (p. 63).

Life isn't perfect. And maybe that makes my amateur quilt more true to life. My circle of influence include families broken in health and spirit. Those who care about them try to prop up a sagging relational wall or patch a leaky reality roof. But only Jesus can renovate or repair in the ways that really matter. “Unless the Lord builds the house,” the psalmist said (127:1), “they labor in vain that build it.”

My internet home page recently featured photos of multi-million-dollar mansions that stand today in disrepair, so run down the most cost-efficient “repair” would be to bulldoze them and start over. Perhaps with something more affordable! And maybe that's a picture of common pipe dreams of how life should “be.” We imagine the perfect spouse, children or house—but those dreams fall apart because we live in a fallen world.

There's only one Builder who can repair and reconstruct in things that matter. And it's not Bob the Builder. It's the One who was born in a barn, and now lives in heavenly grandeur we can't even imagine. But He also lives in and among us, ready to help us shape the scraps of our lives into something unique...and truly splendid.