Archives for posts with tag: Oklahoma
« Older Entries

How to thank the one who taught you about Jesus

April 21, 2013 //
2
Troy Hayes and my daddy, Bobby Gregory. Judging from Daddy's shirt, they must have been working on a car.

Troy Hayes and my daddy, Bobby Gregory. Judging from Daddy’s shirt, they must have been working on a car.

For as long as I can remember, Brother Troy has had heart trouble. But now, in just the last month, cancer and its treatments make it so he can’t stand behind the pulpit and deliver a full sermon. I heard he sat down halfway through his talk on Easter and that more hymns were sung than normal.

Of course the small Oklahoma congregation understands. Of course they pray for his strength and comfort. Of course they offer support to the man who has officiated at their children’s weddings and helped them say their earthly goodbyes.

But it feels like there should be something more – some proper way to thank the man who baptized you and then coaxed you to wade deeper, to grow stronger.

When I was about 10 I wrote these notes in my Bible, including mentioning which pastors baptized my family members.

When I was about 10 I wrote these notes in my Bible, including mentioning which pastors baptized my family members.

In the more than 20 years that I sat under his teaching, I’ve lost count of the times the Baptist preacher told us that the name on the church sign didn’t matter. I don’t care if the sign says Methodist or Lutheran or Pentecostal, he’d say. What matters is that they are preaching the Bible, that they are following God’s teachings.

Then, sometimes in the same sermon, he’d tell us not to just swallow his teachings whole. Don’t just take my word for it. Study it yourselves. Pray about it.

I’ve always liked that about him, how he humbly points to God and to scripture – his true north. And I don’t even have to ask. I know that hasn’t changed in the years since I moved away.

His wife, Sister Betty, still teaches Sunday School. It was there in her classroom where my 7-year-old self fell in love with David and his psalms. Where I saw a re-enactment of Daniel in the lions’ den on an old-fashioned flannel board. Where I memorized most of the scriptures that guide me today.

I'm the middle angel, proclaiming the Good News to the shepherds in the corner.

I’m the middle angel, proclaiming the Good News to the shepherds in the corner.

All those lessons. All those sermons. They’ve mattered in my life and in the lives of countless others. I’m in awe when I think about the influence of two faithful people in a tiny little town, and I’m struck by the far-reaching ripples of all people in ministry – be that behind a pulpit, in a classroom or mowing the lawn for a neighbor.

Thank you, Brother Troy. And you, too, Sister Betty. Thank you, all who teach us about God’s love.

Dearest readers, Brother Troy went to be with his Heavenly Father today. Many are mourning his passing. Will you join me in praying for them?  

No one preached a finer funeral than Brother Troy. There was just something indescribable about how he shared God’s love with those who were hurting. I’ll never forget what he said at Daddy’s funeral. He talked about faith, hope and love. He said faith and hope are realized in heaven, completed if you will, but love continues. There is no end, no death for love.

Much love to you, Brother Troy, and welcome home.

 

Tags , , , , ,
Categories Christianity, Religion

Day 27: From nothing to everything in 7 days

March 15, 2013 //
0

When hundreds of people you love live in one place, part of your heart is always there.

Always scanning the Internet for news. Always waiting for friends and family to check in on Facebook to say that they’ve made it through the latest tornado or storm.

This time, when wildfires spread through tens of thousands of acres in Oklahoma, a dear friend checked in with bad news.

Her family had lost everything. All that was left was a twisted piece of metal that had once been their home.

Their 80 acres of beautiful trees once sheltered squirrels and bobcats, birds and deer. But in a flash, nothing was left but charred tree trunks and the ashes that fell like snow after the fire licked up the leaves and the underbrush.

They had little warning and no insurance. She left with the flip-flops on her feet, some family pictures and her grandma’s treasured ring.

The fire took the rest. The kitchen table. The senior yearbook. The shampoo. The security of knowing where she would sleep at night.

Still, even though I could hear the smoke fresh and heavy in her lungs, she was grateful. And she was convinced that somehow this was a blessing – that their lives had been saved for a reason and for a purpose.

Sure enough, as the hours ticked by more and more pieces of her puzzle came together. A relative offered a rent house he had been renovating. A friend opened her closet and pulled out nearly new towels. Strangers delivered an antique bedroom set, clothes and gift cards.

Just a week after she’d felt the heat of the flames I heard her say, I have everything I need. From nothing to everything in seven short days.

I’ll try to remember that the next time the tears fall and my throat tightens with stress, the next time I’m feeling scared and unsure. If she can recover from a wildfire in seven days, surely my argument with my husband will be better by morning. Surely I’ll find a way to get the house cleaned in time for a party. Surely I’ll meet my deadline at work. Surely God – and his gracious people – will walk along side of me, too.

When the fires first happened I blogged about Tina and kept updating her story for family and friends. If you’d like to read those stories, just click on the titles:

When your friend loses everything — except hope

When your friend loses everything — Part 2

When your friend loses everything — and then gains blessing after blessing

Tags , , ,
Categories Christianity, Religion

Standing shoulder to shoulder with your prayer request

October 7, 2012 //
0

The tent that was put up after a tornado damaged
the Home Depot in Joplin, Mo.

Growing up in Oklahoma, I’ve seen my share of tornado damage. I know that brick homes can be reduced to rubble, that grass can be pulled from the soil – that once the winds calm, an emotional storm can start.

So, from the moment I heard a tornado had ripped through Joplin, Mo., I had prayed. For strength. For healing. For comfort. For peace.

And almost from the moment I heard, I knew I wanted to go there, to pray in the place where unruly winds had taken so much and so many. Six months later, we pulled off Interstate 44 just before the Oklahoma state line and turned onto the streets of Joplin.

Our van was full of boys and suitcases, of tired drivers and a barking dog. We desperately wanted our 1,200-mile road trip to end and our vacation with family to begin. But there’s no arguing when the spirit is tugging.

First we passed what was left of Home Depot and its makeshift tent in the parking lot. Then, we saw signs that were leaning, businesses with blown out windows and homes that looked like they had tripped over their own foundations.

The boys had questions. What could do such a thing? Where do the people live now? Did anyone die?

We answered as best we could and then we walked to an empty cement slab and held hands and offered a simple prayer. The van was nearly silent as we drove out of town and back on to the interstate. We were each in our own worlds, each processing what we had seen.

By the time we reached the state line, the volume had risen again. The topic had changed, but the next time we prayed before a meal Benjamin remembered. And he has remembered every day, at every meal since then.

“Thank you for this food and help the people that got twisted,” says the one who just turned 5. I never imagined he’d even remember pulling off the highway 10 months later, much less be continuing to pray. But standing shoulder to shoulder with your prayer request has a way of changing you no matter your age.

It makes it personal. It makes it real. And in Benjamin’s case, it makes it lasting.

Still missing a roof — and some of the rubble — six months after a tornado hit Joplin, Mo.

Tags , , , ,
Categories Christianity, Religion

Finding our (spiritual) family history

October 6, 2012 //
1

Every good story has a beginning, and so I take my boys each year to where mine starts so that they, too, can know the characters and understand the setting.

If they are ever to know me, they must first know Oklahoma and my people — and that is my goal as a mother, that they would know all I can offer. That my life would light the way for their journey.

I’m intentional about telling stories of Daddy, who died before my boys could be chased around the living room by him and beaten in a game of Monopoly. I pull out his wallet and let the pictures of his grandchildren spill out. I show them his piggy banks. I talk, too, about my grandparents. I tell about their gardens and the okra that made my arms itch when I picked it.

And sometimes I make my boys part of the story so that they can walk where I have walked. We joined a CSA where we paid up front for a portion of a farm’s harvest. Our particular CSA allows us to pick additional food ourselves, allows to stand in the field and know where our food comes from. Almost every week I took the boys so Jessie could pick green beans and play fetch with the farmer’s dog, so Benjamin could run the rows and protect us from the encroaching invisible enemy, and so Colt could stand next to the cherry tomatoes and ask for bite after bite — so many bites that seeds drip off his chin and onto his coat. All the while those eyes that look so much like mine, and like my mother’s before me, scrunch up and crinkle with his smile.

There, with the tomatoes weighing on the vines and the Niagara grapes sweet in the air, I feel close to my story. I feel close to the lessons of sowing and reaping, of fields white with harvest. And I wonder if this is God’s wish, that we would listen to His story as a way to honor our Father.

Maybe His book is less about rules and regulations and more about a loving parent inviting us to see where His story begins, to know the characters and the setting.

Maybe the parables offer more than guidance, maybe they offer a glimpse at a Father’s heart and a chance to know Him better.

Tags , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Christianity, Religion

Three keys to having a peaceful dwelling — don’t lose them!

October 4, 2012 //
2

Becky Bittle

When I first imagined a series on making our homes peaceful dwellings, I knew I needed help. Already Rachel Doll has shared her heart with us and now I’m excited to share an insightful post by Becky Bittle. Becky is the author of Read My Chicken Scratch, a blog about chicken keeping, saving money, and being creative, all while enjoying her family and her rural Oklahoma home. So, settle in and let’s learn together. Shall we?

I love my home!  I love my chickens and hearing my roosters and my neighbor’s roosters crowing to one another.  I love the hammock swing that hangs under my favorite tree.  I love the train that makes my children and grandchildren laugh.  I love the honeysuckle and wildflowers that grow here.  I even love the weeds!  Sometimes it seems easy to be peaceful in a setting like this.  Sometimes…

But most of the time it takes a lot of work and prayer and patience to be peaceful.  It’s nice to think that there is a place where I can just relax and everything around me will be at peace, but that isn’t reality – at least not long term, everyday reality.

For me, having a peaceful home is not just a desire. It is absolutely necessary.  Our daughter Josie (25 with Cerebral Palsy) is very sensitive.  Tension and arguing can upset her so much that she cannot calm down without medication.  But even without a “Josie” in your home, peace is something to treasure in every family.  The world is a stressful and cruel place.  We need a soft place to land and be renewed, and home should be that place.

There are three keys to keeping my home peaceful.

It takes planning to keep a peaceful home.  Clutter is a peace-killer in my home and in my schedule.  All the “stuff” I have and all the “stuff” I do is really not about the “stuff”. It is about the people I am sharing it with.  I have a mission statement hanging in my kitchen.  It says “My greatest desire for our home is that nothing would distract from the relationships we are building inside of it.” That means I don’t want dirt on the kitchen floor to cause my husband to grumble, but I also don’t want to grumble at my son for walking across that freshly mopped floor. I want to plan enriching activities for my family, but I don’t want there to be so many activities on our calendar that they begin to feel more like a job than fun.

Need help?  Flylady.net has lots of resources to help keep you organized.

You know “if momma ain’t happy, nobody’s happy”.  It is also true that if momma ain’t peaceful, nobody’s peaceful.  And to keep myself peaceful I need to spend some time every day laying my burdens down at the feet of my Father and then leaving them there for Him to work out for me.  The things I worry about are not in my control – but they are in God’s.  I am told to “Cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7) and cast doesn’t just mean hand it to Him gently and then keep looking back at it thinking how I might still fix it myself.  Isn’t that what we moms usually do?  Cast means to fling it off of me, like I would if I felt a spider on my shoulder.  Get rid of it and then let Him handle it.  Don’t take it back from Him tomorrow to worry over again!

I do everything  better with a plan – even prayer.  I use The 2959 Plan to help me stay on track.

The best thing I know for keeping a peaceful home is a nice shiny coat of Turtle Wax.  No, of course I don’t mean you should literally add car wax to your beauty routine.  But just like a good coat of wax lets the water and dirt slide right off my car, I need to let things that irritate me slide right off as well.  That is harder than it sounds!  But it is honestly the best thing I can do for my family.  I can’t take everything so seriously and so personally.  It helps if I can remember that a bad attitude may be directed at me, but it may not be about me.  Someone probably had a bad day and needs some extra love rather than an angry response.

Sometimes I lose my keys – my car keys, my house keys, and these keys too.  In the moment that a conflict arises, my emotions cause me to forget the things I know.  I put little notes to myself all over my home (like the “No Distractions” sign I mentioned) to help me remember.  Because if I can remember my keys, my home will be at peace.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Christianity, Religion
« Older Entries
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 759 other followers