Telling Stories...

Ever since our ancestors could first communicate, we have gathered to share our stories. We have passed along stories illustrating our faith and the tragic stories of love lost. We have repeated accounts of real heroism and simple stories of family history. When our forebears lived closer to the land and to each other, the practice of storytelling was full of ritual and was seen as a special occasion. Members of the family group would often gather around the fire to hear their genealogy recited aloud by an elder or master storyteller. Listeners could track their own lives, and the lives of their parents, as they interwove with the lives of the other members of the extended family. It would often seem that everyone’s ancient relatives once played out similar life dramas together.

As a custom, some cultures’ storytellers repeat the same tale over and over because they believe that each time you hear it, you come to the story as a different person and view it in a new light. Telling the stories again and again helped younger generations learn so that they could pass them to future generations.

When we hear others tell stories, we can laugh at their humorous adventures, feel the thrill of exciting encounters, and learn from the challenges they faced. Though most of our formal traditions of storytelling are lost, it does not mean we they cannot be revived.

These traditions draw us closer together through our shared ancestors and histories. Perhaps we can see some of their strengths in ourselves and in those closest to us. In choosing to honor this practice we connect to our shared human experience and see, once again, God's hand in all we do and who we are...

 


 

Wednesday

Wednesday has always been a busy day in our house...something about middle of the week, and all that entails established a long held tradition...Spaghetti Wednesday.! Or as everyone would mention as they walked in the door, "I smell spaghetti, it must be Wednesday".

It's funny how traditions get started. This came about because it could be made quickly and easily...and kept warm if needs be. With Dad preparing it more often than not. But it also means something else...home. Although some might tire of eating the same food on the same day of the week most weeks of the year, there is something comforting about it.

No matter what type of day each of us has had, no matter what problems we carry back to our door, no matter what is happening in our community or the world at large, Spaghetti on Wednesday tells us that all is right with our world. We're safe, we're together, we're a family (no matter who happens to sit down with us).

I'm rather looking forward to getting home this evening!

Home Sweet Home

I live in a 3 bedroom farmhouse that was built 60+ years ago.

Suzy, our aging chocolate lab, lives outside, but the rest of us share the limited space inside. The rest of us are Vito & the Other Guy (2 parakeets), Linc and Dooley (2 cats) and 5 people aged 9 - 65. Cozy, but manageable (it does get a little cramped when daughter and SIL visit) but still, we make do. Given the population, this space can become (and usually is) very messy. But it's a place to be proud of because it's not a house, it's a home. 

Behind the house, there's a garden and an old chicken house. This year, the garden is a family affair and we're all praying for the sun and rain and warm weather required to grow what we've planted (squash, tomatos, corn, cucumbers, peppers, okra, corn, purple hull peas, onions, cabbage and lettuce)...can you tell we love fresh vegetables? Son is busy converting the old chicken house into a space where he can work a forge and girlfriend can have a kiln. I can't wait to see what wonderful things they will create.

Although I had never really spent time on a farm until after I married, it's a wonderful life. Although it takes long hours and hard work...and even though we're at the mercy of the weather, there is much to be learned about life there. More importantly, God can be seen everywhere. In the ups and downs He teaches us...but mostly, He loves us. We truly live a blessed life.  

It's not a life that all would enjoy, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else...

Tell me...

what a Mom wants to hear...

What does God look like...

to you?

It is a weakness of human nature. In order to relate to God, we must see Him as someone and usually that someone looks a lot like us. It is only natural that we give Him a face, hair, a voice...perhaps we imagine his build or the size of His hands. After all, when I think of being comforted by someone, I relate to how they hug. Whether it is a casual arm around the shoulder, a quick clasp and then back away or someone who pulls you close and holds you fiercely when you need it or lovingly when you need that.

As a child I imagined God to be like my Grandaddy. He was big, but not so much so that he couldn't bend down and kiss my head or touch my cheek. He had big hands, or at least they felt that way to me...big, but oh so gentle in the way he held mine. He had a deep voice that was soft and caressing when I was hurting or loud and booming when we shared a laugh. As a child, I tried very hard to love God like I did my Grandaddy. Although I know now that Grandaddy was a man and very human...for a time He ranked right up there with God...If Grandaddy had known, he would have been the first to point out that he didn't measure up but somehow I don't think God and I would have agreed.

The definition of reslient..

...the ability to overcome, correct or to become better than before.

Not that they needed to become better...

I spent Sunday afternoon in the company of some of my favorite people. It is always a joy to be with those you love but on my way home I realized yet another reason they deserve my love and admiration.

My sister-in-law and brother-in-law live in a town just outside of Nashville. As you may have heard there were flood waters in that area recently. There was so much water that they too were to be evacuated by boat. The roads were impassable. I can't imagine what it must feel like to watch the water move closer and closer to your home and family and being unable to stop it. You know, forces of nature stuff. But there they were. I saw the water via pictures from the cell phone and couldn't believe what I saw. In the end they were safe and in the grand scheme of things, the damages to their home were minimal. But still, to be there and not to know when and if it would stop. It had to be a nightmare.

In the midst of the fun and fellowship of a beautiful Sunday afternoon in Tennessee, we spoke about what had happened in the area. True to form, their main concern was for those who had been affected to a greater degree. Those who had lost loved ones, those who had lost homes, those who had lost jobs.

I'm sure you've heard the old saying that you can choose your friends but you can't choose your family. I am blessed to have family that I would want as friends even if we weren't related. Love you guys!!!

Our Value

Are you guilty of undervaluing another? Do you see them as being this or that and nothing more?

Jesus lived in Nazareth for almost 30 years. His neighbors saw him fix tables and chairs and carry out the responsibilities of a carpenter. He worked with his hands, lived with his parents and did not appear to be anything more than a man. Imagine their surprise when He went to Synagogue and spoke with authority the words from Isaiah. This was way outside the role the had for Him! Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God was not accepted in His own country as any more than a workman.

So I ask again, are you guilty of undervaluing another? We all are. We assign roles for one another and have a hard time seeing anything beyond...even those people that we know well can and will surprise us. We can all be blind to depth of another. Pray God to open our eyes!

A tribute

Our Youth Group goes to lunch on the first Sunday every month. After lunch, we visit and serve Communion to some of our Shut In members. As you would expect, over time relationships are formed. The youth provide a wonderful service and our shut ins get some much needed one on one attention. Over the weekend one of our "regulars" passed away.

She had been one of the pillars of our church. You know them, standing ram-rod straight and ably performing any task necessary to serve God, the church and the congregation. Even though she has been obviously failing over the last several months, she always "felt like" seeing the young people and encouraging them to take an apple from the bowl in her room (she and her family have their own orchard).

We would have visited her yesterday but she couldn't wait and Saturday evening went to her eternal rest with God. We'll miss you Betty!

Memories

I read an article recently that quoted a scene from "The Godfather"...a wannabe hit man is applying for a job. He sets out all his expertise as well as his cold blooded ability to do what is required. After listening silently, the Godfather leans forward and says (in a way that only Marlon Brando could) "But tell me, do ya spend time wit' your family?" There's something to be learned here.

Time spent together as a family is the cornerstone of strong, healthy relationships. More often than not, you don't start out to "do" anything memorable...watch a movie, go on a walk, go to the lake/beach or just simply "waste time together" but memories happen. In years to come, these times will be brought up again and again and once more you recall the laughter or the peace that comes from shared experiences.

My children are grown and gone now but give us a few minutes together and a wonderful memory will appear and we get to live it all over again! Never pass up the opportunity to spend time wit' your family!

Laundry...

I've seen this before...for the first couple of years that son was in college, he'd bring laundry home 'cause no one does it like Mom. Ok, I know it was a line so I'd take care of it but just the same...he was growing up and soon would no longer live at home during the summer so it was a connection. It gave us time together (I think he felt a little guilty so he'd hang around to help me sort, fold, etc.) to talk and laugh and yes, I could get an idea how life was treating him. It was an excuse to be together.

Now he is grown and hasn't lived at home for quite some time...and yes, I'd really love to see him pull up in the driveway with a mountain of laundry.