A Time to Refrain from Embracing

A Time to Refrain from Embracing

For everything there is a season,

and a time for every purpose under heaven.

A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them,

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.

Ecclesiastes 3:1,5

By the time I reached my teenage years, I was an old hand at playing/singing for funerals. I had lost much of my timidity and felt confident in my job.  One warm spring day, I arrived at the Sunset Chapel to play for the service of a man who had unexpectedly died at the young age of 52.  The first thing I noticed were masses of flowers, and a huge casket, indicating that the man was very tall.

His wife, on the other hand, was very short and very distraught.  She walked to her seat surrounded by three tall sons, who tried their best to comfort her and stem the cries and sobs.  The service was beautiful and, thankfully, short.  I settled into playing softly while the family said their last goodbyes.  The wife’s cries became close to howls as her sons finally tried to guide her away from her husband.  She kept turning back, but they had a firm grip on her and were moving slowly but surely to the exit.

About three feet from the doors, the funeral director came up to say his goodbyes, distracting the sons momentarily from their hold on their mother.   The woman whirled around and sprinted down the aisle like Allyson Felix headed for the finish line.  Reaching her destination, she grabbed her husband around the upper chest in a tight embrace and with superhuman strength, pulled him halfway out of the coffin.

The funeral director and the family arrived on the scene at the same time.  The director wrestled the body out of the woman’s grasp, then the sons grabbed their mama with an iron grip and hustled her out of the building.  The staff stuffed the body back in the casket as best they could, and quickly wheeled it away - the signal that I could finally stop playing.

As I look back on that day, my heart goes out to that distraught widow, whose love for her husband made her unwilling to part with him, even in death.  Did she know of the promises written down by the Apostle John?   God will wipe away every tear from their eyes,  There will be no more death, or mourning, or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. [Revelation 21:4].  I hope so.

*

Sing with all the saints in glory, sing the resurrection song.

Death and sorrow, earth’s dark story, to the former days belong.

All around the clouds are breaking, soon the storms of time shall cease.

In God’s likeness we, awaking, know the everlasting peace.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 702

(Sung to the tune, Joyful, Joyful, We Adores Thee)

A Time to Mourn

A Time to Mourn

For everything there is a season,

and a time for every purpose under heaven.

A time to weep, and a time to laugh,

A time to mourn, and a time to dance.

Ecclesiastes 3:1,4

When I was 9 years old, my mom decided that I needed to learn a musical instrument in additional to piano.  Because we already owned a ¾ size violin, she naturally assumed that was the instrument I was destined to play.  She searched around until she found Mr. Otto (the name  has been changed to protect the innocent), a violin maker and accomplished teacher.  He welcomed me into his backyard studio – packed with violins in various stages of workmanship.  It was fascinating.

Playing the violin, however, was not.  No matter how I tried, I was not successful in making anything that sounded like music.  Squeaks, yes.  Music, no.  I was born with perfect pitch, and no one was more aware than I was of my tuneless playing.  I, who love music, found the violin pure torture.  I loved Mr. Otto, but I hated the violin.

Fast forward  almost five years.  I was still scratching away at the violin and keeping up with my piano and voice lessons.  My mom had added a small Hammond Organ to our arsenal, and I had learned it well enough to land my first job!  I was on call to play and sing for funeral services at several local mortuaries.  One sunny summer morning, I was called to play and sing for a service downtown.  When I arrived and glanced at the program, I discovered that the deceased was Mr. Otto.

My mother was stunned and I was devastated.  I managed to play the service, but I could not sing.  This was my first acquaintance with the death of someone I loved, and there were many tears.  Yes, I mourned, but at the same time, there was a tiny celebration dance growing deep down inside:  I knew I would never have to play the violin again!

*

In the bulb there is a flower, in the seed, an apple tree;

In cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free.

In the snow and cold of winter there’s a spring that waits to be,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

In our end is our beginning, in our time, infinity;

In our doubt there is believing, in our life, eternity.

In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 707

A Time to Kill

A Time to Kill

For everything there is a season,

and a time for every purpose under heaven.

A time to kill, and a time to heal,

a time to tear down, and a time to build.

Ecclesiastes 3:1,6

I used to live with two female cats - George and Sapphire.  George was a very large white lap cat.  Sapphire, on the other hand, was a small black and white cat -  wiry, curious, and determined.  She discovered that a couple of the doors in the house would open if she put her paw under the door and lifted upwards.  A closed door to Sapphire was nothing more than a challenge to see how long it would take before she could get into the space and discover what she was missing out on.

Sapphire became a closer companion when George moved on to another family.  She loved boxes, and had “box beds” all over the house, using whichever one was her favorite for any given day.  She was never a cuddle-bug, but poured out affection in her own way, on her own terms.  She was always there when I finally sailed through the door at the end of the work day, waiting and watching for me.

The day finally came, however, as it does with all pets, when Sapphire began to show her age, and her physical weaknesses became more prominent.  I clearly remember the evening when I came in from work to find her in one of her boxes, weak and glassy-eyed.  I took her to bed with me, box and all, and watched over her during the night.  In the early morning, the vet confirmed my layman’s diagnosis:  her organs were failing and there was no medical remedy that would cure her.  It was time to let her go and put her to sleep.

There is coming a day, for ourselves and our furry friends, when death will be no more.

“Then the saying that is written will come true:  Death has been swallowed up in victory.  Where, O death, is your victory?  Where, O death, is your sting?”  [1 Corinthians 15:54-55]  

Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

*

Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand,

I am tired, I am weak, I am worn.

Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light.

Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 474

A Time to Cast Away

Flower Vendor, Washington D.C.

A Time to Cast Away

For everything there is a season,

and a time for every purpose under heaven.

A time to get, and a time to lose,

A time to keep, and a time to cast away.

Ecclesiastes 3:1,6

My father was a pack rat.  He could never get rid of anything because “some day” he might need it.  Dad had a large shop at the rear of our property, as well as a huge lean-to and three storage sheds.  There was a 1939 Chevy coupe filled with spare auto parts, a 1955 Chevy station wagon filled with hubcaps, and two partially finished Jeeps.  The lean-to sheltered tractors and small gas engines in various stages of restoration.  Inside the shop there were shelves of baby food jars and yellow Kodak film boxes, each with a different size nail, screw, washer, nut or bolt.  Each container was neatly stacked and clearly marked.  

I, on the other hand, have tried to teach my kids that “there is a time to keep, and a time to give to Goodwill.  The older I get, the more I realize that I don’t want to leave a house full of “stuff” for my children to deal with when I am gone.  I recently received a list of Fifty Things to Throw Away for Instant Decluttering.  I have worked my way through 20 of them, and am determined to keep plugging away at it.  The back seat of my car is full of stuff for a Goodwill trip this week.

Jesus advised, Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  Matthew 6;19-21

*

Take my voice and let me sing always, only, for my King.

Take my lips, and let them be filled with messages from Thee.

Take my silver and my gold; not a mite would I withhold.

Take my intellect, and use every power as Thou shalt choose.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 399, Vs. 2

A Time to Uproot

A Time to Uproot

For everything there is a season,

and a time for every purpose under heaven.

A time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot.

Ecclesiastes 3:1,2

On the next street over from mine, there is a lovely white house with the most beautiful yard in the neighborhood - trees, shrubs, flowers, and pristine green grass always well-manicured.  The house is owned by a Puerto Rican couple who do all of the gardening themselves.  If the husband is out working in the front yard when I am walking the neighborhood, we chat and share gardening knowledge.

One early spring day, he saw me out walking and waved me over.  In his hand was a beautiful pink flowering plant from his front flower garden.  He offered to share four plants with me, and I eagerly accepted.  I had an old stump at the front corner of my yard with three well-established hydrangeas and a bare section just waiting for my new treasures. 

Due to abundant rain, I didn’t have a reason to check on my new pink flowers and it was well into June when I went out to weed.  I was shocked to find pink flowers everywhere: overspreading the ground, in the old stump, covering the hydrangeas, and growing down into the lawn.  My “treasures” were invasive bullies.  Planting those flowers took me 20 minutes.  Uprooting them took me days, months – actually, another season before I could eradicate them completely.

What we plant in our hearts and minds will either improve the space, or overtake our lives.  The psalmist advised, “I have hidden Your Word in my heart, that I might not sin against You” [Psalm 119:11].  

*

Change my heart, O God, make it ever true.

Change my heart, O God, may I be like you.

You are the Potter, I am the clay.

Mold me and make me, that is what I pray.

Change my heart, O God, make it ever true.

Change my heart, O God, may I be like you.

The Faith We Sing, No. 2152

A Time to Hate

Ginter Botanical Gardens, RVA

A Time to Hate

For everything there is a season,

and a time for every purpose under heaven.

A time to love and a time to hate;

a time of war and a time of peace

Ecclesiastes 3:1,8

Hate vt.  hated, hating

1.       To have strong dislike or ill will for; despise, loathe

2.      To dislike or wish to avoid; shrink from

I was taught from childhood that it is wrong to hate someone.  Jesus spoke quite pointedly about hatred of people as an extension of the desire to murder.  So I view “a time to hate” from the perspective of hating things or circumstances.

Things I Hate:

The sight of a horrific automobile accident

Filthy language in the presence of children

Dentist appointments

The sight of a homeless person with no where to go

The sound of a child being screamed at

Needles at the doctor’s office

Spiteful criticism

Any language calculated to tear down rather than build up

To lose a friend

To watch someone’s health deteriorate

Prejudice

Cruelty to animals

Selfish arrogance

I realize that much of what I hate is perpetrated by people.  That brings up the old “Hate the sin, love the sinner” conundrum:  the very thin line between hating what people do vs. hating the people themselves.  The ability to love unconditionally is a gift only God can give us.  His love reaches out to us regardless of what we have done.  He does not excuse our sin – He forgives us.

When it comes to our dealings with those around us, perhaps forgiveness is the intersection between love and hate.

*

We will walk with each other, we will walk hand in  hand.

We will walk with each other, we will walk hand in hand.

And together we’ll spread the news that God is in our land.

And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love,

Yes, they’ll know we are Christians by our love.

The Faith We Sing No. 2223

Fear Not!

Fear Not!

In peace I will lie down and sleep,

For You alone, O Lord, make me to dwell in safety.

Psalm 4:8

Have you ever been afraid to fall asleep?  I’m not referring to monsters in the closet or boogiemen under the bed.  Have you ever been afraid to close your eyes for fear that you would have a nightmare or worse, not wake up?   Somehow I developed a fear-based insomnia during my high school years, and even after I left home to go to college, this pattern of nighttime wakefulness traveled right with me.  Going to sleep during the day?  No problem!   Go to bed at night?  No, thanks!

One night when I was having a real struggle talking myself into bed, I reached for my Bible and turned to the beginning of the Psalms.  It didn’t take me long to get to chapter four, and this verse immediately caught my attention.  It was as though God placed it there specifically for me.  I cannot say it instantly cured my insomnia, but this is the promise I brought to the Lord when sleep was evasive, and He who is faithful kept His word.

Fear was an immediate consequence of sin.  When God came down for His daily visit with Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening, they hid from Him because they were afraid.  Fear has stalked the human race ever since.  Perhaps that is why, whenever God sent a messenger to earth, the conversation usually started with, “Fear not!”

These words echo down the ages to our ears as well.  Don’t be afraid.  Put yourself in My hands.  Be hidden under My wings, close to My heart.  You are safe within My care.

*

Be not dismayed whate’er betide, God will take care of you.

Beneath His wings of love abide, God will take care of you.

God will take care of you

Through every day, o’er all the way.

He will take care of you.  God will take care of you.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 130

Caught Napping

Caught Napping

At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like

ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. 

Five of them were foolish, and five were wise.

The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them.

The wise, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps.

The bridegroom was a long time in coming

and they all became drowsy and fell asleep.

Matthew 25:1-5

In the late 80’s, I was the organist at a wonderful Disciples of Christ church in Phoenix, and very pregnant with my third child.  The pastor surprised me one Sunday morning with a recliner that he had procured from somewhere and placed behind the organ so that I could sit comfortably during the sermon.  I was thrilled.

All went well until one morning when, at the end of his sermon, the preacher announced the closing hymn and invited the congregation to stand, awaiting the introduction from the organ.  No music was forthcoming.  He cleared his throat, gave the congregation a big smile, and announced the hymn again, but this time double the volume.  Silence. Walking across the platform, he stepped behind the instrument, only to find that his organist was still ensconced in her comfy recliner, fast asleep.  It’s a wonder I wasn’t snoring!   

Jesus told the parable of the ten virgins during a private conversation with His disciples. He knew that the days and years ahead wouldn’t always be easy for them, or for us for that matter, and He wanted to be sure that they and we remembered one of His most precious promises:   In my Father’s house are many rooms;  if it were  not so, I would have told you.  I am going there to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, 

I will come back, and take you to be with Me.

He IS coming again!  Let’s be sure we aren’t caught napping…

*

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll.

The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend;

Even so, it is well with my soul.

It is well; it is well;

It is well, it is well with my soul.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 377

Cheep, Cheep

Cheep, Cheep

And God said,

 “Let the waters teem with living creatures,

and let birds fly above the earth,

across the expanse of the sky.”

At some point in her young life, one of my daughters developed a fear of birds.  Apparently this had something to do with her younger sister and dead birds in the yard, but her fear of birds is very real.  Even now as an adult, she will not willingly go near a bird, dead or alive.

I, on the other hand, grew up with birds in the house as pets.  My mother loved budgies (parakeets), and there was at least one of these adorable birds gracing our home all through my childhood.  If the bird was out of its cage, all I had to do was call its name and hold out a finger, and the little creature would swoop down and perch on my hand.  Walking around the house with a budgie on our finger, head, or shoulder was a common occurrence for my brothers and me.

My mother was amazingly adept at teaching our little friends to talk.  With gentleness, determination and vast patience, Mom would work with a bird until it finally chirped its first words.  It would then chatter away, saying over and over again the little phrases it had learned.  I could ask for a specific phrase, and the parakeet would be delighted to supply it.

How I would have loved being in the original Garden created by God, holding out my hand to a variety of birds, encouraging them to swoop down for a visit.  For now, I content myself with watching the cardinals, robins and jays that frequent my yard, or visiting the aviary at the zoo, awaiting the time when God will make all things new.  Our fear of any of God’s creatures will be history. 

*

This is my Father’s world.  The birds their carols raise.

The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.

This is my Father’s world.  He shines in all that’s fair.

In the rustling grass I hear Him pass, He speaks to me everywhere.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 144

Straight or Crooked?

Straight or Crooked?

The Lord sees not as man sees.

Man looks on the outward appearance

but the Lord looks at the heart.

1 Samuel 16:7

As a kid, “crooked” did not even begin to describe the look of my permanent teeth.  I had buck teeth in a mouth that was barely large enough to accommodate a normal full set.  When I was twelve years old, my dentist pulled four teeth to make some room, and sent me to an orthodontist.  I emerged from almost 6 years of treatment with very straight teeth – a symbol of beauty in the American culture.

I was surprised to read that some young Japanese women were paying a considerable fee to have their teeth transformed from straight to crooked.  Called yaeba teeth, they are fang-like incisors that usually only occur when a mouth is overcrowded.  Yaeba teeth make Japanese girls “cute,” more approachable, less “perfect.”  These changes will attract a suitable husband.  Cosmetic dentists glue sections of artificial teeth onto the natural tooth to give it a crooked appearance.

Life’s school of hard knocks has taught me that trying to attract a life’s partner by changing who you really are to please them is a self-defeating strategy.  Each of us comes from the hand of our Creator as a unique human being – snaggle teeth, straight teeth, or somewhere in between.  I do not want to be loved for what I look like.  I want to be valued and cherished for who I am.  My teeth may not always be with me, but my character will define me for the rest of my life.

*

O Lord, You’re beautiful;

Your face is all I seek.

And when Your eyes are on this child,

Your grace abounds to me.

Lost and Found

Lost and Found

Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them.

Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and 

go after the lost sheep until he finds it?  And when he finds it,

he joyfully puts it on his shoulder and goes home.

Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says,

"Rejoice with me: I have found my lost sheep.

Luke 15:4-7

I am an adopted child, a fact that I have known since before I could understand what it meant.  My adoptive parents let me know from the very beginning that I was their special, chosen child.  When I grew into adulthood, however, I began to wonder exactly who my birth parents were.  They were "lost" to me, and I had no idea how to find them.  When my adoptive parents died, I discovered my first clue to this mystery:  an old, yellowed copy of the legal notice that was printed at the time of my adoption listing my birth parents' names, and my father's military rank.

One would think that would make the search a slam-dunk, but that is far from the truth.  I had no idea where to start.  Then Ancestry.com came into being, and I began a years-long search for my mother and father.  Reams of paper and hundreds of notes later, I was no closer to finding what was lost. When Ancestry's DNA test became available, I took advantage of that resource as well. It turned up a 3rd cousin in Michigan and a 3rd cousin in Alaska, both from my mother's side.

Then one morning a couple years ago, I opened Ancestry to renew my search, and decided to check my DNA matches.  Imagine my shock and delight to find a new listing for a first cousin on my father's side.  A quick hop onto his family tree and, voila!  I felt like shouting from the housetops:

  

Rejoice with me!  I have found my dad!

*

Amazing grace!  

How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now am found;

Was blind, but now I see.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares,

I have already come.

'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,

And grace will lead me home.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 378

The Trees of the Field

The Trees of the Field

Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad;

Let the sea resound and all that is in it;

let the fields be jubilant and everything in them.

Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy.

Psalm 96:11-12

I will never be an arborist.  At the looks of things in my yard, I am not even a decent caretaker of trees.  I planted a row of Arborvitae beside the house, to give some separation between my yard and my neighbor's property.  The first four are tall and proud and appear healthy.  I have battled bagworms on one of them, but otherwise they are well.  The next two are much smaller, but healthy.  Of the last four, one died this winter, and the other three appear to be dying in sections (or swirls, as the case may be).  The peach tree I planted in the front yard has about 1/3 dead wood.  On the brighter side, the apple  tree that I planted about 5 years ago in the back yard has broken open in bright white blooms (the first time ever) and beautiful green leaves.  And my ancient red Dogwood, itself suffering some dead wood, is blooming beautifully once again.

If I were to bring in a professional, I would hazard a guess that he/she would tell me that the difference between good health in my trees and them slowly/quickly dying, is water:  the abundance or lack thereof.  Although the Arborvitae are planted in a line down the side of my property, the land around the healthy trees is flat, and around the dead/dying is slopped away from the tree.  I am sure that I would be told to water the trees in summer - a  task I do not usually (ever?) do.

You and I are about in the same shape as some of my trees - suffering damage from temptation and sin, and, like the woman at the well, lacking sufficient water to keep us from slowly dying.  Jesus invites us, If any man/woman thirst, let him/her come unto Me and drink. 

*

You shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace;

The mountains and the hills will break forth before you;

There'll be shouts of joy, and all the trees of the field

Will clap, will clap their hands.

And all the trees of the field will clap their hands;

The trees of the field will clap their hands.

The trees of the field will clap their hands

While you go out with joy.

The Faith We Sing, No. 2279

Coat of Many Colors

SL, Richmond Zoo

Coat of Many Colors

The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it;

for He founded it upon the seas,

and established it upon the waters.

Psalm 24:1-2

If there is the equivalent to a "coat of many colors" in the animal kingdom, my vote is for the male Golden Pheasant, scientifically known as Chrysolophus pictus.  Yellow and gold, blue and turquoise, red and orange, chestnut and brown, black and white - this pheasant has it all and in such a brilliant display.  Native to the mountains of western China, the tail of this bird accounts for about two-thirds of its overall length.  While they can fly short distances, they prefer to run.  I can attest to the fact that they are very difficult to photograph, because they rarely stand still for more than a few seconds.

Every time I see a beautiful creature like the Golden Pheasant, I am reminded of the creative love of our Heavenly Father.  He could have made everything on this earth black and white, or brown and gray.  Instead, he dipped and re-dipped His paint brush into an endless palate of beautiful colors and created a world shimmering in light and beauty.

*

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings,

He made their glowing colors, He made their tiny wings.

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all.

The purple-headed mountains, the river running by,

The sunset and the morning that brightens up the sky.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 147

SL, Richmond Zoo

Mischief Maker

Mischief Maker

And we know that in all things God works

for the good of those who love Him,

who have been called according to His purpose.

Romans 8:28

I was raised in the household of a loving but silent father, and an overbearing mother with extremely conservative views.  By the time I reached high school age, I was ready for a little wholesale rebellion.

My behavioral mutinies were extremely mild by today’s standards, but for my conservative educational institution, it was intolerable: sneaking off campus for a little decent nourishment; the proper placement of whoopie cushions and plastic barf; crossing the invisible gender segregation line at inappropriate times; stretching clear plastic film underneath the toilet seat in the teacher’s restroom; setting off fire crackers in geometry; beginning the humming chorus in English; placing a potato in the tailpipe of the principal’s stationwagon.  I spent an inordinate amount of time in that man’s office.

Many years later, I called the Registrar’s Office at the school to make arrangements for a transcript to be sent for graduate school.  When the older woman who answered the phone asked for my name, her blurted response was classic:  “Oh, I’ve heard about you!”

That phone call was a pointed reminder of just how long a bad reputation can hang around.  Human nature finds tales of missteps far more interesting than toeing the line, and gossip expands silly pranks into mountainous transgressions.  Thankfully, God used all of my peccadilloes to transform me into who I am today.  He forgave me a long time ago, and that is all that really matters.

*

Something beautiful, something good,

All my confusion He understood.

All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife,

But He made something beautiful of my life.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 394