Remembering . . . . .

For miles and miles, the crowds of Russian people walked in the same direction on both sides of the highway and country roads, their arms full of flowers and hands carrying bags of food and drink. This is the scene etched in my mind, Memorial Day in Russia, a national holiday of mega proportions. They were traveling (a long bus trip, then walking the rest of the way) to the cemetery to honor the dead by laying flowers on the grave, and by taking time to remember the good qualities of their departed relative. While there they shared food and drink. Well, the living ones partook of the food and drink, and the departed simply were . . . . . well departed. Thus the food and drink set out for them just sat there as a point of remembrance.

I was impressed by the elaborate plots at the cemeteries, fenced in by lovely iron arches and arrow topped borders, all with some sort of fancy bench or seat inside. I was curious about those seats. Why would a seat be necessary? They anticipated many visits and would need rest, since likely they'd stay all day thinking, remembering the person and the past. This was not a time for prayer. They saved their prayers for church, the Russian Orthodox Church, where candles were lit to signify each prayer.

My first impression upon landing at the airport in Saint Petersburg, Russia on that first trip in 1993 was that World War II had just occurred. It soon became apparent that not only was this my visual impression, but also what I would find as reality in the minds of the people. They talked about World War II like it had taken place the month or the week before. How had that war affected the people so deeply? The effects of trauma carried to a new generation, as if inherited in a will.

While living in Russia, I think I wore my interpreters out asking question upon question in order to gain a deeper understanding of the people and culture. Wars had taken their toll on the Russian people, and become a prime element of the culture, from the War with the Tartars to World War I and World War II. The reality of war was much more real to my new friends, as if they had experienced it themselves, even though the last war had been fought over 60 years ago by their grandparents and great-grandparents. War for them, seemed to be a prized possession handed down from generation to generation. It was not a difficult thing for them to embrace a past that had not been experienced in their lifetime. Perhaps because some of World War II took place on their own soil, and with building and church remnants scattered around waiting to be restored, they saw these scenes daily. It took its toll on them.

This people and culture had been formed through much adversity. Honoring those who had passed on before them had become a practiced art. Certainly more than anything I had experienced as an American. Their love for people is hard to describe here, simply they are incredibly loving people. They take time to relish the moment, and to enjoy people and life. They don’t scurry around in busyness, the reverse of life in the western world. We are always busy and most often quickly moving to the next project, the next task, the next phone call, the next person, the next anything. We have learned well how to keep moving, but have we learned how to be quiet, or how to think? Have we learned how to embrace life, to be content with joy or pain? Memorial Day spent in Russia changed me, and made me more conscious of slowing down, of living in the moment, and on this day to honor those who went before me.

Today, Memorial Day 2009, I choose to remember my Dad, an army veteran, whose life was a model of excellence for me every day. As a first generation American, his family had come from Sweden to Northern Minnesota. He spoke two languages while his own parents spoke only one. His father passed away when he was five years old, in 1915, causing an incredible hardship on the family. His father had built the family a nice home, and of course it was paid for. My Dad left school after the sixth grade to work and support his mother. He apprenticed as a carpenter, becoming a master class carpenter and builder of incredible excellence. I remember being so proud of my Dad when I was in the first grade. He had crafted my teacher’s bedroom furniture out of cherry, which was his favorite wood. He was a good man, doing good to others, and living the lessons he had learned as a child in bible classes. Thank you to my Dad for going before me and pointing the way so clearly. Each day my desire is to be worthy of being his daughter. Not a day passes that I don’t think of my Dad with many of my personal decisions influenced directly by his life. Thank you for my father who was a picture of my heavenly Father. I am so grateful for this gift.

“I was very glad to find some of your children walking in truth, just as we have received commandment to do from the Father.” II John 4, NASB

Unapologetically a GRANDMOTHER!

Grandmother duty drew me in two mornings this week. Little did I know that in addition, I would adopt a grandson, Timothy, or that I would choose Logan.

Loren and I jumped up Thursday morning to attack the morning’s traffic, arriving on time for the two oldest grandsons’ school Awards Program. They just completed the 7th and 8th grade. Just watching those two boys get up and down a multitude of times to walk across the stage receiving award certificates made me dizzy. They received 17 academic and extra curricula award certificates and a trophy for the highest GPA for their class. After the fact, I was totally worn out. I leaned over and asked the 7th grader if he was perspiring from all the activity. He laughed. Yet, when I think of all the work required to rack up such a pile of trophies and commendations, it boggles my mind. They have invested hours and hours in school work and it shows.

Friday morning we repeated the process for the middle two grandsons. We’re not exactly on the dawn wake-up plan, so thankfully their program started later, enabling me to sleep an extra 30 minutes. Just after we arrived, the flood of young children poured into the auditorium. Our first grade grandson panned the audience, and then scurried to sit between us. A fellow classmate named Timothy plopped down beside me, and eagerly told me that he had neither a mother nor grandmother there. I told him I would adopt him and he could sit by me. He smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.

As our first grader received a few awards, he held them tightly, hardly allowing us to look at them. After he received several more, he gave them to me, and I started a little pile on the floor. From this point on, with each award received he would come back to his seat and quickly deposit his treasure in the pile. Timothy even got into the act. He had received two awards and was almost to his seat, when his name was called again. He quickly threw out his arm and hand with an award to me, without a word indicating to place it in his pile of awards. By the end of the program my first grade grandson had deposited so many awards in his pile that I could no longer keep them neat. At the end of the program, the trophies were awarded to the top students overall. That’s right; he received a trophy for the highest GPA in his class of 27. When it was time for him to go back to his class, he insisted that he would need to take the trophy with him. He was happy, however, for me to keep the pile of awards. I heard him ask as he walked back to class, “What is GPA anyway?”

Finally, our last Awards Program. Grandson #4 in the fifth grade received his own pile of awards. So many in fact that the whole roll of students sitting in front of us kept turning around to look at him each time a new subject was introduced and before any names were called. It was as if they were preparing him to get up, and to tell us that another award was coming his way. It got sort of funny. One boy was so focused on my grandson that he scarcely heard his own name called. When computer awards came up with no award, I leaned over to ask, and he told me that he didn’t like computer. It’s Spanish this time. I looked at him and he repeated that he didn’t like Spanish either. I found out later from his mother that in the two subjects he didn’t like, he came in 2nd and 3rd from the top, and the difference was by a hair. By the end, he received the trophy for the highest GPA in his class. Loren told me that it was a good thing he wasn’t using film in his camera (it’s digital); it would’ve been an expensive two days.

As I pondered all three of these award programs, I had observed many children, some with one or two awards, some with a multitude, and some with none (and it’s my understanding that due to time constraints, character awards had been given in their respective classes, so everyone got some awards). However, my spirit was lifted by one child . . . . . . Logan. Yes, that’s right. LOGAN. I’ve seen Logan many times in many different school programs. It’s hard to miss Logan. You see Logan had cerebral palsy. He manages by himself, using a walker, crawling up the steps until he can pull himself up to walk, or sometimes simply slowly walking. He always finds his way in the program, whether managing his singing spot or maneuvering a walk across the stage to receive an award. What an incredible blessing that four of my grandsons get to go to school with Logan.

I love the writings of Isobel Kuhn, a missionary to China in the 1930’s and 40’s, and later to Thailand. In her book, “In The Arena” she says that God puts us on a platform to witness to the world of Jesus, and that our trials whether large or small are designed for this reason. I’m reminded of the bible school song, “This Little Light of Mine”. We are HIS light to the world, which shines even brighter through trials. Logan always rises above the crowd. He shines, not because of his walker or that he crawls or slowly walks. But, wow, what a smile! His effervescence radiates light and joy to the whole room.

Don’t get me wrong. I am extremely proud of all of my grandsons, and these four have proved that hard work brings success. In addition, in another state the youngest of all six graduated from kindergarten, and his brother completed first grade. I am proud of all of them. They are all growing and learning so much so fast. I am a proud grandmother indeed. But, in conclusion, my desire for all of them, and me too is to shine like Logan.

"Please Lord, I choose Logan, would you make us all just like Logan inside, please.”

“It seems to me that God has put us who bear His Message on stage in a theater in which no one wants to buy a ticket. We’re something everyone stands around and stares at, like an accident in the street.”
I Corinthians 4:9, The Message Bible

WOO HOO ! ! ! ! ! !

I will admit it. YES! I am a Kris Allen fan. Some of you didn’t watch American Idol and there are a variety of reasons, I’m sure. I did watch and pray. Kris is a believer and worship leader at his church in Conway, Arkansas, close to my stomping ground for a lot of years. He is a musician through and through, sings, writes, arranges music, has played viola since elementary school, taught himself guitar at 13 yrs. of age (now 23), and taught himself piano in college, which means within the last 3 years. He sang on stage, both with guitar and piano at different times, of course. He is truly the boy next door, clean cut, and with a refreshing humble attitude about himself. Early on in the competition, he assisted others with their music when he could have been taking care of Kris. One of the judges exclaimed to Kris, “You have lifted the spirit in all of us.”

Adam is an incredible singer with a voice range that is off the charts. He’s an actor, having performed on stage since the age of 10 (now 27). His confidence and stage presence are amazing. As he was interviewed throughout the season, he possessed an impressive humility and graciousness. However, there was oppression, heaviness, a darkness to his music.

I am praising the Lord that the spirit lifting singer won. Yea Kris! Woo Hoo! Approximately 100 million votes were cast and according to one statistical web site, the difference was too little to call well into the day after the voting took place. That means Kris received something over 51 million votes and I’m not sure of the percentage, but close to 52%.

I have one more thing to say. Could the statistics of this finale be revealing a twist in our cultural dilemma? Obama watch out! Middle America is on the war path. Obama received 53% of the votes for President and just over 69 million votes. Perhaps, we should run Kris Allen for President next time. With close to 52% of the vote and something like 52 million calls or text messages, I think we’d have a winner. And he did it all in 4 short months. Yes, that’s right. He won the hearts of America in 4 months.

Hey, I have an idea. We could hire Acorn to work the phones and text messages and forget all these polling places. That would save money too! One thing for sure; We would know we got a humble guy and someone who lives his Christianity. He wouldn't change his position from week to week. Shoot, the producers couldn't get Chris to change his style of dress, much less who he is. He wouldn’t do worse than Obama. At least Kris would be praying about his work, and be consistent in what he believes. God is good. Amen.

Growing Older But Loving Life

Today is my spiritual birthday, the celebration of the day I met Jesus. It was 34 years ago & I have never gotten over it! I still love Him, and more and better. My life verse is Philippians 3:10, “That I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death.” NASB

A lot has transpired since I was 25 years old and came to know Him. I have learned that more of His power comes through sufferings. I would walk those valleys again if I had been told the benefits in the beginning. It has made me much less afraid of conflict and resolution, because I know you just have to wade through some muck and mire to get to the gems of real understanding and true forgiveness. I've also learned that some people want to work through and some don't and you just have to work with those who do. In the end, relationships are much deeper when the hard work has been done. If they don't want to do the hard work, they simply walk away.

Saturday was such a great day. Loren & I took a long walk around our neighborhood. My left foot/ ankle is still weak from wearing a cast. I potted the two large urns that sit just beyond the entrance to our home with pink wave petunias, a trailing ground cover, and a clump of lovely green foot high grass. Afterward, Loren and I, but mostly Loren cleaned off the patio, which is no small task. There’s lots of furniture, plants, shelves, etc. out there.

The sad note was that I had to throw away – throw away I say (& I hate throwing away anything) my famous gardenia bush, which had over 100 blooms last year. It must have gotten too cold this winter. I also threw away my 3 year old curly ivy that sat on the top shelf of my iron étagère. I had no idea it was struggling, until one day I looked out and it was totally brown. I guess my illnesses, and lack of attention affected my plants as well as my body this winter. It felt so good to get those urns planted and the patio cleaned up, however today my back is paying for all that fun I had.

Sunday was a great day as well. Church was uplifting. The teaching was insightful and needed. Fellowship was great. It was a day of much encouragement, as it should be.

Getting older spiritually is wonderful. I've been on a journey with God. He's taken me incredible places, places of the heart and body. Getting older physically is not so wonderful. As my body grows weaker through the years, hopefully my heart will grow deeper still through the valleys ahead, as My Savior continues to walk with me all the way home.

II Cor. 4:16," Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. " NAS

Walls

Are they needed? Necessary? Good?

Well . . . it depends on their purpose. If they are supporting or protecting, then they are needed and good. If they are not necessary, then they could be a barrier. For instance, in a home, if a wall isn’t needed for support, then to take it down would bring a whole wide open space unavailable for prior use.

I’ve been thinking about a small book I read years ago, My Heart Christ’s Home. The illustration was given of the heart being like a home with rooms and doors to each room. Your guest, Christ, only goes into the rooms that He is invited to enter. It’s a beautiful home, well kept, clean. You don’t hesitate to invite your guest into each and every room. Oh, except for one – the storage room or the attic. It’s too messy to invite anyone there.

Perhaps a room was left out? Could there be a secret room? That room clearly would be a mess. No way to get in to clean. It would be wise to take down the whole wall, clean up that room and then wow, you’ve just added to your investment by opening up a new larger space.

Several weeks ago, I realized that there was a wall in my heart, protecting a small room all its own. It had been a good wall. It protected me. It provided a safe place. It was sealed shut. Nothing could get in and nothing could get out. Finally, it became apparent that the wall was no longer needed nor wanted. In fact, the wall had become a barrier, a hindrance to hopes, dreams, desires.

So . . . I say, “Take down that wall!” Oh my. It’s been a messy two weeks of clean up.

“I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name forever.” The ESV English-Hebrew Reverse Interlinear Old Testament, Psalms 86:12

I Can't Believe It

I can't believe I'm actually here. I had not planned to start a blog tonight, though the desire had surfaced in my soul a long time ago. It's now or never I guess. So . . . I'm jumping in and hoping it will be fun.

Why did I title my blog "It's A Potpourri Life"? Potpourri is a mingling of fragrances, textures, and colors, all enjoyable. The mixture eventually releases a sweet aroma. Such are the stories and vignettes of life. May my life be a sweet aroma of Jesus Christ Himself as He stirs it all into my personal journey with Him. May you be blessed by my interpretations, contemplations, and stories. Praise to Him!

"For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing." II Cor. 2:15 NASV