Notes Along a Journey of Faith

If I remember the number correctly, it was more than 150,000 women from around the world who gathered in halls, homes and churches to participate in a lesson via a live simulcast streamlined out of Reading, PA.

Beth Moore led the study on II Kings 4: 1-37 comparing two women. In a nutshell, the first woman had a need which she acknowledged, while the second woman was well-to-do and "fine."

The first woman had lost her husband and the creditors were coming after her.
In her desperation she called on the prophet Elisha for help and received a miraculous provision. The point made was that desperation can be an opportunity for what we would think impossible. The question that was asked was, “Do I want to live in the supernatural provision of God or in the humanly explainable possible?”

The second woman who was “fine” did not want to risk the pain of acknowledgment. It could cost too much. She merely served the prophet Elisha refusing to ask for help. A big possibility was that fear paralyzed her from admitting her need.

For some reason . . .  part of the sovereignty of God . . . both received a miracle. The first woman was rewarded for asking while the story of the second woman allowed me to see God's mercy extended  even at times when we do not ask. He knows our heart and wants to call us out of “I’m fine” to "faith in His best for us." The kind of faith that trusts that when we ask, we will not be given a stone or a snake. The story takes a twist when our well-to-do friend, after receiving her unexpected gift, experiences the pain of loss. She could have said . . . and maybe she did . . . "I told you so!" However by this time she was not afraid to ask and she went for all she could. She pushed aside any obstacle to pursue in her asking until she received. The kind of faith that . . .we are told in scripture . . . pleases God.

Interestingly enough, on the same weekend, our pastor told a story of his son asking him if he could buy a scooter with his birthday money. The father (pastor) flippantly replied with a yes (he could get one sometime). The son asked again, “Dad, do you promise that . . . ” The father promised. They got home and the son went to the computer to show his dad just what the wanted. The father again, was not thinking this was urgent enough to put aside what he was doing. Before bed he was reminded that he had promised . . . and first thing in the morning, “Dad . . . you promised.” And guess what? The boy got the scooter.

With this story in mind, our pastor told of a man by the name of George Mueller who was born in 1805 in Prussia. After he came to know the Lord he ended up in England where he and his wife started an orphanage for which they had to totally trust God in for their daily needs.  George would pray with his Bible open before him claiming the promises of God to supply their need. He experienced things such as a milk truck breaking down in front of the orphanage for no other reason than the fact that they had none and could not even pay. The milk was free. A baker was woken in the middle of the night and prompted to bake bread to deliver in the morning for no other reason than prayer and a need supplied. By the time George died over ten thousand orphans had been cared for under his faith ministry.

So, like the first woman in the first story, may I gather not just a few jars to be filled and, like the second woman, allow what God has done for me thus far to spurn me on to greater faith . . . believing that, if He raised Christ Jesus from the dead, nothing is impossible for Him!

 

Anticipation

Recently . . . on two separate occasions, grand girls each came prepared with aprons in tow. Natalie knew we would be baking and came with a drawn list of her favourites and options on goodies we could make for school lunches.

 

But on the day that Makenna came by I was surprised to see her show up with the whole get-up, a present from her "other grandma" she said. I noted that maybe we would have to do some baking . . . to which she responded with the fact that this is what she had thought as well. (really!)

 

 

 

So, of course, mixing cookies became part of the agenda. There is no way a Grammy could say no to that kind of expectation.

It so happened that a few days later . . . I attended a simulcast conference with Beth Moore. If you have had the chance to see her on any kind of DVD . . . you know that she gets her message across in a rather dramatic and charismatic manner . . . a little too much for some . . . but on that day I saw her in a new way through her Grammy story. A certain genuineness that is part of who she is came through loud and clear.

She told us of a routine she does with her grands - concerning a mystery closet in her hallway. I wish I could tell it with the visual actions that she did . . . where I could not help but feel like I was the child right there . . . ten feet away from the closet . . . waiting with giddiness for her head to pop around the door for a quick check to see if I was still there. In her mystery closet she gathers small things that she finds when she is out and about . . . for such a time as this . . . when they come and ask, "can we . . . can we have something from the closet?" It's so much more about the anticipation than anything else . . . as she does a few quick preview sweeps before finally bringing out the surprise.

Her six year-old grandson asked her one day, "Bibee, when I'm in college, will you still have the mystery closet?" He kind of asked as though that would be silly, but really hoping she would. She replied with,"Why, of course I will! You will be big and taller than me and will come in that door asking for a mystery closet thing." You can imagine his beaming face . . . softening and proceeding to ask another question, "Bibee, when I'm a dad and have a boy, will you still have that closet?" I have to ask, who would not say yes?" By this time I had tears in my eyes, as she continued to tell of how he asked if, "Bibee, when I'm a grampa . . ."

It reminded me of Abraham asking God for a miracle for his nephew. As I sat in church the next morning, I wondered . . . do I come here with that kind of anticipation? Do I expect, with butterflies in my tummy, to see what God has in store for me, knowing that He loves to give to those who ask?

If you then, imperfect as you are, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in Heaven give good things to those who ask Him! Matthew 7:11

I wish for more of that complete childlike anticipation and joy in what He has in store for me . . . eager to receive and eager to do.

Hemming and Hawing

Hummor me. I'm not a seamstress and not  even a wanna be  . . . but I realize that a number of my best friends on this site are . . . and so it takes a bit of courage to show this.

 

 

It's funny that, although I do not remember a stitch about my eighth grade Home Ec sewing class - other than frustration - some of the things my grandmother patiently taught me . . . as she fixed anything that needed fixing for our family . . . have stayed with me.

I confess, I did not take apart the hem that was there. I merely flipped it over (pants inside out) and ironed the hem where I wanted it to be. Then I began with a good stitch on the seam - going left to right - I took a tiny stitch above the hem, looped it and did the next stitch on the hem - repeating the process until I was done. 
 

  

As a young girl I never would have thought how this simple process would remind me of her for the rest of my life.

The next best thing to having someone to do something for you is to have been taught how  . . . and just do it.

 

A Desire Come True

As summer is coming to a close . . .  I've been scrolling through photos and realizing once more just what a great summer it was. Certain photos capture my heart and sometimes it's difficult to say why.

I'm just going to ask. What are the dreams you aspired to somewhere along your adult time-line? I mean the kind of dreams that may or may not come true.  Getting into your own house, backpacking across Europe, earning a degree, a happy marriage, healing from illness, a baby, a kindred spirit kind of friend, reaching your ideal weight,  your own car . . . the list can be as varied as the uniquely you person that you are.

Sometimes it's good to look back and remember what it was we wanted because we forget and may never appreciate that it did or did not happen.

I was only a teenager when I knew who I'd be marrying. In fact, as a teen bride, I don't know what it's like to wait until a mature age and wonder if it will ever happen. At times it seems that being young, gave me the benefit of not having expectations. I've  sailed through a lot of life with the "expected" happening before I'd even recognize that need or desire.

There is, however, one dream that I was reminded of recently. It was the wish to see our youngest, our son, become a dad. I'm not quite sure why that was a special desire.

Maybe that is why, when I look at this photo, I get tears in my eyes.

I love this photo because I see two special men being who God created them to be. How often over the years have I seen them walking side by side . . . the one a miniature replica of the other . . . discussing things . . . the younger listening with rapt attention or . . . on other occasions . . . telling the older how it should be. The memories make me smile.

Harvesting Tutorial with Mom

On a beautiful, crisp yet sunny morning last week I made my way to the lakehouse where we planned to can pear/apple sauce with my mom. The girls were already there, having dropped off some of their kids at school for the day.

My trunk was filled with boxes of pears and apples we had collected at Kristal's  and my mom also had boxes of fruit waiting from the harvest there.

 

We washed the fruit

and set up several peeling and cutting stations.

I think Mom was laughing at the fact that I take pictures of everything. What a foreign concept for her . . . to take a photo of her hands cutting up apples. Those old  hands . . . what have they all accomplished? We also had two sets of medium old hands . . . those of my sister and I . . . and three sets of young hands. I'm sorry that I did not get a photo of my niece Rosalynn as she came a bit after we got started . . . and myself. The fact that there are any photos are proof I was there.

I was trying so hard to keep track of measurements and amounts
but found out, in the end, it works fine to just do as mom does.
Fill the pot three quarter full with fruit,
add water to cover, bring to boil, add sugar to taste and cook until ready.
It's completely her recipe and one the whole family has come to love.
 

 

Now, for those wondering what we do with apple pear sauce. After chopping them up in almost equal parts, we cook them in a very large pot until "glazed" looking, adding about 2 1/2 cups sugar to about 30 cups of fruit. The hot chunky sauce gets ladled into hot jars and sealed. We did some batches with the water bath and others just the way mom has alwasy done it . . . allowing the hot rubber seals do their job as the hot fruit cools down. Hearing the popping sound is always a good reward.

Everyone seems to have their favorite food to pair this sauce up with.
It's great on porridge, with cottage cheese or on pancakes . . .
but my favorite way is still the pear pudding soup, eaten warm.
alongside pan fried potatoes.
For a "one time" recipe from scratch you can check here . . .
but when  I have canned sauce ready to go,
I simply cook a thin custard
and then add the canned fruit, to serve warm.

And Then he was Two!

Yesterday we celebrated the last family birthday of the summer. 



From the moment we drove up the driveway,
 there was no mistaking who the birthday was for.



Picnic blankets in the late afternoon sun were a perfect spot to enjoy hot dogs and burgers,
while parents, grandparents and great-grandparents chatted in groups around the grill or in the kitchen.
 

When it was time to come in for  cake  cupcakes

 

the delight on his face was plain to see!

I think he would have been happy with just the tractor on his cupcake . . .
but he had to be convinced that there was more . . .
there were presents . . . more than one.
He wanted to enjoy each one and never mind opening another . . .
 giving evidence of
the sweet innocence of a two-year-old with no expectations.

 

 Happy Birthday . . . Koey Deere!
Two is good!