May the Road Rise to Meet You

Spring Arrives in Brunswick, GA

9 March 2011 

Psalm 119:33 NIV

"Teach me, O LORD, to follow your decrees; then I will keep them to the end."

I sat in a white graduation gown clutching a red rose I had just carried as I marched in high heels down the center aisle toward my seat to the steady beat of Pomp and Circumstance in Millet Hall on Miami University's campus in Oxford, Ohio.

We were the class of 1978, and our young faces belied the fear we actually felt about entering the "real" world. We appeared radiant and jubilant on this our high school graduation night; however, truth be told, I imagine several were like me, nervously anticipating their futures.

Since my maiden name was "Butler" I was close to the stage we would float across to receive our diplomas. However, there were ceremonial events which had to occur first.

We listened to an opening prayer and welcome. We recited the Pledge of Allegiance and listened to the National Anthem. We heard an inspirational thought from a student and a speech by the principal, a mysterious man most of us knew only by his nickname, "The Owl," because he only came out of his office at night to go home.

Soon graduation speeches began, and despite my best intentions of listening with both ears, my mind roamed. 

The teachers told us "commencement" meant "the beginning," of our lives and not the "end" of our time at school. We were celebrating the beginning of our new lives and the paths where God would place us.

I gazed at my friends. Several had seats of distinction on the stage. Certainly, I thought, their lives will turn out all right. But I wonder about me. I wonder what God wants me to do?

Just before we received our diplomas, there was one more ritual. I had been a part of this my Freshman through Junior years, and now, I was among the Seniors about to receive the blessing from the concert choir.

I had never been able to get through this moment without tears, and now, as I looked at my dear friends stepping onto the risers preparing to sing to us, my eyes began to fill with water.

The "Old Irish Blessing" by Denes Agay, who died at age 95 in 2007, is a musical arrangement of an Irish blessing.

However, it has become more than this for me throughout my life. It has lifted and inspired me when I was depressed. The words have become an anthem for me in life.

As the concert choir sang, I watched through my tears as my underclassmen friends serenaded me and motioned silently to me. They also had tears in their eyes. A couple of my friends held hands on the riser to help each other get through the song.

I sat in my seat soaking up a moment I never could have prepared for emotionally. It was overpowering to hear the words and music. Not only did I feel the love of my friends, but I also felt God's love and protection.

The mask I was wearing, which hid my fears cracked some, and I began to relax as I knew whatever road God put me on in life would be the right one for me.

Furthermore, He promised to walk the road with me. I would not be alone.
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Lord,  Thank you for preparing my path for me in advance and helping me walk the roads you have led me to.
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Here is the video of the "Old Irish Blessing". Enjoy.

For Greg K., my buddy, and one of our great losses from the class of 1978.

Guardian Angels on Overtime

 A Controlled Fire

A Man Cooking Shashlyk over an Open Fire in Abadan, Turkmenistan

2009

Isaiah 40:11 NIV

"He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young."

The dry grass burned quickly in the heat of the summer, while the fire scorched the light-colored bricks on the side of the house on Hamlet Road. I'm not sure who owned the house, but Casey had picked it because we could lie on the hillside next to the garage and not be noticed by passing cars.

I was old enough to know better, but I trusted Casey when he pulled out his box of matches. He was my friend, and we had adventures everyday. Nothing bad ever happened. However, I think we were too young to figure out how dry the summer had been and how quickly grass will burn when it has not been watered for a long time.

Casey lit the match. At first, nothing. We just saw some smoke in the dirt. But all of a sudden, the grass leapt to life beside the bricks. The fire was about six inches long and seven inches high. That may not seem big, but for me, it was disaster. 

I panicked. For the first time since we started this "game,"  I realized the danger we had put ourselves and others in. I screamed at Casey to "do something" as we jumped up and down on the fire. It seemed like an eternity passed before we put it out.

When the excitement ended, there was a small black mark on the side of the house where the fire had stained the bricks. I have no idea how long the ash mark lasted on the bricks, but in my mind, the stain was always there every time I passed by the house.

Our guardian angels were on overtime that day keeping us and the innocent family safe from harm. Thank God we didn't burn down anyone's house through a careless choice.

They say God sends His angels to watch over "fools" and small children. I can't remember exactly how old I was when I learned it's dangerous to play with fire, but it was a lesson well worth learning to help me throughout life.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------Lord, thank you for the other times in my life where you have helped me after I have made a bad choice.

Soaring Above the Storm

           
              Choppy Night Waters of the Atlantic Due to Threatening Weather Conditions
                                                            April 2010

1 Peter 4:10 NIV

"Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms."

My daughter just finished reading, The Diary of Anne Frank. On the commute home from school, she retold the story and gave me her opinion of it.

This conversation allowed me to reveal that when I was twenty and had studied in Bregenz, Austria, I had a chance to visit Amsterdam and tour Anne Frank's "Hiding Place".

I tried to convey to Allison my shock at the small living space the families had to survive in. The floor squeaked. It seemed like every sound we tourists made could be heard all the way over to the next row of houses, and I think I subconsciously held my breath and walked on tiptoe as I tried not to make noise in the rooms.

Anne's room, with her decorated wall of clippings of famous actors and actresses, left me with a lump in my throat. I could imagine her taping the photos on the wall. It was such a normal teenage girl activity.

I told Allison how emotional it was for me to visit the house after reading Anne's diary and watching the 1959 movie. The movie always makes me cry, especially the last ten minutes of it when the SS is arriving with wailing sirens to arrest the family.

However, Anne's words of hope carry even the darkest ending of a movie. She wrote, "Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart."

I wonder how she was able to say that considering all she went through? What a powerful insight from one so young.

I watched an interview with Miep Gies, the woman who helped protect the families while they were in hiding for two years. She said for her husband, Jan, and herself, it wasn't an option to help people in need. As soon as Mr. Frank asked for help, she said "Yes" even though it put their lives in danger.

I wonder how many people would help others like this? I wonder how many people, who are being persecuted, could still look at the world and believe in the goodness of those around them?

I wonder how I would and do measure up?

Tuesday, March 8, is International Women's Day. I thought Anne Frank and Miep Gies were two examples of outstanding women role models to consider today.

Both kept their faith and gave of themselves as best they could to others. Anne through her journal and faith in humankind and Miep through her loyal servitude.

Both were ordinary women forced into extraordinary circumstances. Their strong spirits helped them soar above the storms they faced, and, as a result, they are shining examples for all of us.
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Lord, help me to be a positive role model to others around me.

A Picnic to Remember

Angry Bees after Honey Harvesting

Mountains of Turkmenistan 2009

Job 12:10 NIV

"In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind."

The drowning was accidental.

We children had been playing at Winton Woods in a shallow creek chasing tadpoles and skipping rocks across the surface after eating a Sunday picnic lunch. 

My family had met the Eatons after church at a secluded spot in the woods, and now mom and dad were talking to George and Ercel while Bekka, Teri, Rob and I were playing among the wooded tree line and racing through the open hillside.

Our picnic lunch was still spread out on the grass, inviting nature's scavengers to explore its contents. The ants were feasting on the leftovers, but they were not in mortal peril. No. They were safe that afternoon.  The lone casualty was the yellow jacket who balanced precariously along the edge of the two liter bottle of root beer.

I thought bees had a better sense of balance, so it must have been by choice that the yellow jacket made the plunge into the bottle. None of us were there to witness her descent into the sugary sweetness of thick syrup.

I don't know if she had a controlled landing or if she belly-flopped into the mass of dark soda, but she dove into the mess and was stuck on the surface doomed to perish. When she landed in the fluid, she discovered she could no longer fly.

By the time we returned from our play in the water, she was dead. We mourned her as only children can mourn a yellow jacket who has accidentally drowned in a two liter bottle of root beer. We poured our hearts and souls into our grief, and then we tried to remove her carcass so we could drink some more root beer.

However, Bekka was determined to give her a proper burial. My sister, Teri, thought that was a great idea and hunted for something to put her in. Seems like we found a little match box to put her damp, sticky body in.

We dug a hole in the ground, and with our amused parents gathered around us, we spoke words over the yellow jacket as we lay her to rest under the shade of a tree. We marked her little grave with twigs in the shape of a cross.

Children understand on an intuitive level the sanctity of life.  While their displays of that knowledge may be manifested in simple ways, such as burying a bee, there is much to be learned from them and their Innocent understanding of life and death.

Each life is precious in God's eyes. If He cares about the death of a bee, how much more does He care about my life and its problems?

However, He isn't waiting for me to fall into a vat of root beer, nearly drowning, before He rescues me.

He is here now whenever I need Him. He is reaching out to me. All I have to do is ask for His help.
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Lord, thank you for your love, which lifts me.

Come to the Table

A Black Squirrel Feasting at Breakfast

Rye, New York

October 2010

Luke 14:15 NIV

"When one of those at the table with him heard this, he said to Jesus, "Blessed is the man who will eat at the feast in the kingdom of God."

Mom, dad, Teri, Rob and I stood in our backyard on April 3, 1974, looking at the sky. Overhead were rapidly moving storm cells swirling ominously northward toward Dayton, Ohio. One of the cells had already destroyed Sayler Park by the Ohio River. Soon Xenia, Ohio, would be devastated.

Dad had raced home from work as mom prepared our supper. Laid out on the kitchen table were salmon patties, peas, corn and rolls. In the 1970s, fast food was not an option, and families actually sat at the table together to eat home cooked meals.

Mom worked full time during the day, so coming home to prepare dinner took effort on her part.

Dad had rushed up northbound I-75, not necessarily for mom's salmon patties, but because a tornado was chasing him. He could look in the rear view mirror of the car and see the storm cell following him as he headed toward Forest Park. By the time he got into the house, he was a nervous wreck. When he told us what had happened, we all went out back to look to the south.

As we watched the dark sky, we could see the swirling clouds and dangerous entrails searching for a place to land. We were mesmerized. Over 148 tornadoes were reported in several states from April 3-4, 1974. We watched history unfold over our backyard.

Finally, hunger bested our curiosity, and we headed into the house. We knew if we had to run into the basement for protection from a tornado we could be down the steps in seconds. We were relatively calm considering the weather conditions around us.

As we turned into the kitchen where our dinner had been laid out on the table waiting for us, we stopped in shock. What we saw was not what we expected, nor were we delighted.

Muffin, our dog, had decided to seize the moment and eat our dinner all by herself, while we had our backs to her. She ate nearly all of it. She had taken advantage of the feast placed before her.

We chased her out of the kitchen and away from the table, but the damage had been done. We had to scrounge around for dinner on our own that night.

God prepares a feast for me everyday. My attitude is the only part of me that keeps me from partaking in it.

Muffin figured out on April 3, 1974, how to take advantage of the gift set before her. She didn't ask if the dinner belonged to her, she just assumed it was hers for the taking.

I have to do a better job myself feasting on the richness of God and delving into his love and the gifts he bestows on me.

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Lord, thank you for preparing your feast for me to partake of.

It's Not the Red Sea, but It was Still Great!

The Caspian Sea

Located not too far away from where I was teaching.

Exodus 14:21-22 NIV

"Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the LORD drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left."

My presentation over, I drank tea and talked to the English teachers from a small town in Turkmenistan. On my left, I noticed commotion as two teachers discussed a topic in private and nodded toward me. One looked shy and timid; the other jabbed her in the side with her elbow.

Finally, the shy woman addressed me with an unusual request. She asked me to look for her family's cousin in America. She was concerned because they hadn't heard from him in seven years. He had last visited them with his father, and then they lost touch. They wanted to make sure he was safe.

I had witnessed too many miracles in Turkmenistan to turn the woman down, although the image of a needle in a hay stack entered my mind. However, I promised I would look for him.

Due to complications, she was unable to give me his name and last known address before I left for the states. I felt terrible about not getting the information from her. I thought that was the last I would hear from her.

One fall morning as I prepared for work, I opened my email to discover a note from Turkmenistan. It was from the sister of the English teacher I had met. Her sister worked for an oil company in Turkmenistan, so she had access to a scanner and email. She sent me a copy of the last envelope with a return address they had received from their cousin. She also explained he worked in a drugstore.

I looked at his name and address and nonchalantly ran it through Google. The first hit took me to a respected scientist who worked for a major chemical company and university. He had several patents for creating  pharmaceuticals under his name and with teams. I blinked. Wow, I thought. They said he worked in a drugstore. This man creates drugs!

However, I thought I was looking for a Turkmen, and the scientist was clearly not Turkmen. I kept searching.

Finally, I located an obituary for the scientist's father. The obituary mentioned his father's family originated from Iran and Turkmenistan. This placed his family near the region where I had been teaching during the summer.

I returned to the scientist's homepage. I summoned all my courage, wrote a note asking if he were the man who had family in Turkmenistan, and told him if so, I had a message for him from his family. If not, then please disregard my email.

In less than an hour he wrote back. It was him.

I had found the long lost cousin on the first Google hit!  The family had lost him for seven years. God helped me find him in the span of minutes.

The needle in the haystack image came back to mind.  Logically, there was no way I should have been able to find their cousin. However, God led me to him. God placed the right pieces of information in front of me.

Miracles happen. They don't have to be big, like parting the Red Sea, but miracles happen everywhere.

I trust Him to work miracles in my life and for people I know and for the strangers I pray for. God is a living God, and miracle of miracles, He helped me reunite a family.

I wonder how much more I could do for God if I allowed Him to work through me everyday?
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Lord, thank you for your miracles, which change lives around the world.

Peace, Perfect Peace

 

Midwestern April Storm Approaches

Indiana  2010

 

John 14:27 NIV

"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."

 

In Ohio, March can roll in like a lion and leave like a lamb; however, tornado season can last all spring. Even throughout the summer, severe thunderstorms with tornadoes attached to them are apt to tear up hundred year old trees by the roots and fling them across fields and destroy homes and cities in their paths.

 

Midwesterners anxiously listen for the call of emergency sirens during storm season, and yes, the Weather Channel is the favorite television channel for many of us. It took me years to detox from my Midwestern upbringing once I moved south.

 

When we first married, John ridiculed me for watching the Weather Channel for hours on end. He told me it would be hot, hazy, and humid with a chance of rain all summer.  He was right. At least in the Midwest, weather is volatile and changes.

 

One summer weekend in the mid-1970s, I attended a church retreat for teens when a severe thunderstorm blew through the region. Originally we were spread out over several cabins for the girls and boys, but as the weather deteriorated, our chaperones moved us into one cabin with two rooms, one for the boys, one for the girls, for safety.

 

None of us slept easily that night as we heard the storm rage outside, so we sang songs.  We sang for a long time until the boys serenaded us with:

 

"Good night sweetheart, 'til we meet tomorrow. Good night sweetheart, sleep will banish sorrow.  Tears and parting may make us forlorn. But with the dawn, a new day is born. Goodnight sweetheart, goodnight..." 

 

We giggled.

 

During the night, our leaders kept us calm by talking about God and faith. We prayed we would make it through the night safely. We talked until we finally fell asleep.

 

As unnerving as it was to hear wind whip through chinks in the cabin walls or rain lash on the windows, or trees crack and fall nearby us, a calmness that came from our faith in God was within us. This faith led to peace and eventual sleep.

 

When daylight broke, we rose to examine the damage to the campgrounds. Several cabins, including one a group of boys had been assigned to, had trees fall through them. Had the boys stayed in the cabin, they would have had the tree fall on them.

 

Tree branches and leaves littered the ground. Several cabins had structural damage. Windows were broken. Cabins had been moved from their foundations. However, the cabin we spent the night in was untouched. 

 

As we packed our belongings to head home, we remarked on God's greatness and the miracles we had witnessed the past 24 hours.

 

Not only was I grateful none of us had been injured, but I also was thankful for the peace God had given me to get calmly through one of the stormiest nights I had witnessed in my young life.

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Dear Lord, help me remember you left me your peace, and you gave me your peace. Let me use your peace to calm me in the midst of storms in my life.