Sounds of Hope

This week on Kingdom Bloggers we are talking about summer and Jesus.   When I think of summer and Jesus, I think of camp.   The equation for that is S + J = C.   That got me to thinking that as people are prayerfully packing their children off to camp, you might like a few camp stories.   As with so much else, I have lots of camp stories. My first experience of camp must have come when I was about 6 or 7.   Our church staunchly believed in the sovereignty of the local church.   However, they had a group of daughter churches that they fellowshipped with regularly.   Eventually these churches and some other churches around the country would form the Fellowship of Christian Assemblies .   The group of churches in the greater NYC area rented a camp.   They called it Camp Challenge.   I don’t know what the history was before my first Camp Challenge experience.   I do know eventually they bought property for a permanent camp.   This year, however, it was a rental camp on lake in the Catski

I have been known to cry when a military band marches by in a parade.  I’ve never known why I do this and usually try to hide it.  Somehow my emotions are always stirred at the sight of soldiers marching.  I’ve lived long enough to see patriotism be unfashionable and see it return.  I guess I’ve always been patriotic.  Even during the turbulent years of the Viet Nam war, I remember wearing a pin that said love it or leave it.  I was young and probably didn’t understand all the nuances of politics; I was just patriotic. I’ve always been patriotic, I don’t remember Memorial Day (or Decoration Day when I was a small child) as a significant holiday.  It was a day off of school.  I probably played and dug dirt in the backyard.  It was the first Sunday I’d sit alone in Sunday School as all my friends had fled with their parents to their beach houses in Long Island.  We had no car.  We had no beach house.  We rode the Subway to Coney Island for our beach experiences. My great grandfather (

As I went to grab a paper towel I noticed that amidst the colorful butterflies, there were words of wisdom.  I smiled as I read: “A good laugh is sunshine in a home.”  I thought aww, that’s sweet.  And it’s true.  I thought of times when I laughed so seldom that when I heard myself laugh, it shocked me.  I remembered the release of laughter as God poured His blessings on me.  Yes, the paper towel sage spoke truth. I looked to see the next phrase.  “Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.”  Wow, that’s profound isn’t it?  I thought for a few minutes about hope.  I still need more hope in my life.  It seemed the wisdom of the paper towel was going to be nudging from God. As I pondered the paper towel wisdom, I started to church.  As I took the turn in Kingston Springs, I soon came to Craggie Hope.  Yes, Craggie Hope.  Like many places on the winding roads of Tennessee, it has a sign announcing your entrance.  I wondered how Craggie Hope got its name.  A crag, that’s a

I usually have to get up and go to the bathroom before I have to actually stay up.  As usual, that was the case this morning.  The sun was already up.  I love the windows in our bathroom.  Light streams in and when the window is open, you can hear the birds.  As I sleepily headed back to my bed, I thought what a beautiful day for Jesus to come back. Okay, before you think I’ve gotten caught up in the rapture ready business of May 21, 2011 or I have become a disciple of Harold Camping, let me assure you I have not.   I haven’t even paid any attention to the hoopla.   However, people are talking.   One of the last things I did before drifting off into dream land last night was watch Nightline’s interview of Camping.   The interviewer had a bemused look on his face clearly trying not to laugh as the somber Camping made his predictions.   Rather than quote the scriptures that clearly tell us that no one knows the day nor the hour (Matthew 24:36), the interviewer ask Camping if he was a

I love taking personality tests.  Whether it be the Dr. Phil personality test on Facebook or the fake Myers-Briggs, I never turn one down.  I did take the “official” Myers-Briggs a few years ago when I entered seminary.  I was amazed at the results.  I was an INFP.  Now I could understand myself and analyze the results. I scoured over every piece of information I could find about the INFP.  I printed out pages and pages.  I think I still have them somewhere.  I determined, yes, I was an INFP .  It was  the missing link of understanding.   However, there is one problem with this… last year I took it again.  This  time I was an ESTJ.  WHAT??? Even if you don’t know anything about Myers-Briggs you can tell there is NO similarity between INFP and ESTJ.  In less than two years I developed the polar opposite personality.  I know South Dakota was life changing, but come on… My favorite test to take was the “Strength Finders.”  I took that last summer for the first time.  I had predetermined

I haven't had a church home in a long time now.  When I left Tennessee for the long sojourn to the Storehouse of Snow of South Dakota, I was pastoring a small church.  I loved that experience.  However, looking back at it, I always feel sad.  I will never know but it seemed we were on the verge of growth.  I loved that small congregation with everything within me.  I saw God moving and touching lives.  Just before I moved to South Dakota we seemed to all disperse.  It was the great diaspora from The Well. I've not belonged anywhere since then.  I made some attempts at fellowshipping with other believers while I was in South Dakota.  Like the geography, everything was cold and distant.  There were no warm smiles or greetings at any church I attended.  It probably wasn't personal.  The coldness of the people was so pervasive that I think it seemed as normal to them as the sub-zero weather. I knew that all excuses and reasons were over.  I have struggled every Sunday sinc

We are in the midst of birthday season.  In May we celebrate lots of family birthdays!  We had birthdays on the 3 rd , 4 th , 5 th , 6 th , 7 th , 10 th , and one to come on the 15 th .  It used to be we’d eat birthday cake for days.  When the children were still home we tried to get each one of them their own cake.  This year, I didn’t get any birthday cake.  We only bought a cake for our son and he took it home with him.  It was chocolate too.  Oh well, I don’t need cake. Near the end of these birthdays are two other birthdays that I always remember.  One is my Tante Bitta’s oldest daughter's birthday.  She was my childhood playmate.  She was the one who came faithfully every day to visit me when I spent weeks in the hospital in the seventh grade.  I had rheumatic fever.  Every day, Grace would walk from school to the Norwegian Lutheran Medical Center.  She would keep me company for the afternoon.  After we shared the food on my hospital tray, she would go home.  I was in the “o

Like something from an old black and white TV show, their faces look young and vibrant.  Their large print dresses must have been a kaleidoscope of color.  But the black and white echoes that most have gone home to the Lord.  It seems so odd to think that women would gather on a Monday night once a month to pack a missionary barrel to go to India.  One of their own was helping lepers in India.  Karin and I would take torn sheets and roll bandages.  I often wondered about the person whose wounds would be bound by the fruit of our labors.  These women made quilts to cover the lepers while I was rolling bandages.  Before the night was over, several quilts would be finished.   A page from LIFE magazine served as a pattern.  Colors and texture were blended and pinned together on those pages.  A zip through the sewing machine and a quilt was finished in hours.  Once the bandages were rolled, the quilts lovingly folded, the barrel filled, and prayed over, it was time for dessert and coffee

I have a tendency to say too much at times.   Now for those of you who know me, you probably think – “now that’s an understatement.”   In general I am not overly outspoken in that harsh old lady Maxine-ish sort of way.   However, sometimes the emotion of an issue causes me to say too much.   When I do that then, I get caught up in all sorts of drama.   I really don’t like that.   T oday I want to talk about the daughter who has given me no drama. My youngest daughter has been very clear-I am forbidden from using her name on the internet.   I suppose when she’s rich and famous she doesn’t want my words to come back to haunt her.   She did say I could write about her, just not use her name.   Today I’ll just call her baby girl.   If she were from a culture that gave names based on characteristics, her name might be “no drama.”   When she was born I had already observed a disturbing pattern on our family.   I have a lot of kids.   For years they came fast too – not much time in between

Yesterday we went to the graduation of my husband’s nephew.  It was hard to find him in the sea of graduates.  It was hard to find his parents, siblings, and his cousin who had come to celebrate this momentous occasion.  Eventually, we heard his name, saw him wave to his parents, and like that feeling when you finally find Waldo, we were satisfied.   I spent a lot of time looking at the women.  I determined I wanted a dress.  So many pretty spring dresses.  I am self-conscious about so many things but here were all these women, in all shapes in sizes dressed for spring celebrations.  Yellows, purples, flowers, and butterflies contrasted to my black skirt and shirt.  It’s definitely time for some color in my wardrobe.  Now that my mood has brightened, it’s time to update my drab look. As I uncomfortably sat on the bleacher bench enduring the hundreds of names being read, I thought how special this day is for their mothers.  What a wonderful Mother’s Day present for their moms!  I thou

Everyone has a mother.   Probably most people would say their relationship with their mother was complicated.   I honestly don’t know any mother who is totally worthy of sainthood, except for maybe someone like Mother Teresa.   Yes, she would count.   Not to minimize her in any way, but remember, she never gave birth to a child.   For that reason, she really doesn’t count. I think all mothers need huge doses of grace.   I think our perfect mother, Mother Teresa depended on those huge downloads of God’s grace too.   I remember my mother would say often, “Lord, give me patience.”   I am told that as a child I would repeat her statement saying “Lord give me a patience.”    My relationship with my mother was typical.   It was typical in that it wasn’t perfect.   This is my second Mother’s Day since she went home to be with Jesus.   I know she is happy to be home.   In her later years, probably the last 20, we heard over and over, I just want to go home to be with Jesus.   She is where sh

Sin is one of those things that most of us would rather not talk about.   I know I don’t like to even think about it.   I spent many years with guilt about real and supposed sins of my youth.   It’s been hard to overcome this guilt and receive the love of God.   Now I prefer to talk about God’s love and grace. I remember when the definition of sin was pretty easy.   After the Ten Commandments, the big ones, there were the little ones of my youth, like playing cards, wearing make-up, and going to the movies.   It’s just easier when someone gives you a list.   You can look at the list, say yes, I did, or no, I didn’t, and you’re good to go.   If you had to answer yes to something, you follow the prescription of confession, repentance, and you’re done with it.   Now the definition of sin is not so easy.   Oh the big ones, the Ten Commandments are still there.   Although it seems we are increasingly glossing over some of those as well as reinterpret their meaning.   I took a class at se

I certainly had no shortage of good preaching when I was a kid.  I heard great sermons from many of the giants of the faith.  I was blessed.  I heard a sermon today by one of my childhood pastors, Rev. Ben Crandall.  Back then we called him "Brother Crandall."  While I write much about my beloved first church, Salem Gospel Tabernacle, there is no doubt our shift to Calvary Tabernacle made a huge impact on me. He seemed so visionary.  It seems he was ahead of his time with everything.  He brought all sorts of people to his pulpit, David Wilkerson was a frequent guest, Demos Shakarian came and many others.  He saw the leadership potential in my parents. My mother was graduated to teach adults at Calvary.  My father served on the rotating board for a short time.  I remember the pride I would feel that my dad was able to serve communion. Brother Crandall was never afraid to see what God was doing next and follow it.  He was a change agent.  I suspect he still is.  Long before

If you read my blog yesterday, you knew yesterday was NOT a good day.  It was a bit of a roller coaster ride.  I hate roller coasters.  I prefer the calm rides.  I'm a big fan of the "It's a Small World" ride at Disney.  I rode it first at the New York World's Fair (whatever happened to World's Fair's???).  It's my "speed."  Slow, steady, entertaining, no drop offs, no unpredictable spins, no nausea, no dizziness - just steady fun and entertainment. When life becomes a roller coaster of emotions, I hate it.  I probably gave the impression that I was more upset than I really was yesterday.  OR maybe the truth was, I was that upset and was having a hard time expressing it. For those who prayed with me, I didn't sin :-).  I didn't take my anger to bed.  I didn't internalize it.  I dealt with it.  I confronted it calmly. Nevertheless, it was still a roller coaster day.  They say that trouble comes in threes.  My roller coaster ri