Sounds of Hope

I walked into a large library.  The type of library you think of when you think of old men smoking cigars surrounded by books.  I spotted a comfy couch to take my place.  I was late.  My entrance was not unnoticed.  Most of the faces were familiar.  I had seen these faces weekly for years.  These faces had grieved and rejoiced with me through so many events of my life.  I found tears near the surface.  How I missed my family.  How I missed the church family who had loved me for so many years.  They were still together.  I wondered if they knew the treasure they had.  Had they lost it as I had, they would know. I was greeted with warm smiles.  Those I didn’t know probably wondered who is this woman?  I listened to the teacher.  I thought of the first time I saw this teacher.  It was almost 30 years ago.  Where has the time gone?  His wife had died tragically.  I never knew her. ...

It’s been many years ago now that I heard a man whose ministry I have always respected bellow out in a loud voice: “I hear the Lord saying, have you considered my servant Joyce.”   Oh yeah, I knew that phrase, it came from the Book of Job .   I’d been compared to Job before.   It was after a serious of very bad things that had happened.   I had been through house fires, death, disease, separation, and all manner of things.   I was almost on the other side of the Job like experience when I heard those words. It gave me much encouragement.   He went on to say that it was God who had chosen me (thanks God) and that I had come through well because God knew I would … or something like that.   He also said that he saw me with a great ministry and writing a book. I’ve heard that prophecy about a book many times.     I listened to that tape over and over again – Have you considered my servant Joyce.  Yes, God, have You considered your...

I had an interesting conversation with a friend yesterday.  She’s one of those friends that pops in and out of my life.  I’d like it if we were closer friends, but it’s just the way it is. She had called while I was in Florida.  One of my daughters has been accepted at a law school in Florida.  I’m so proud of her.  Of course, I’m proud of all of them.  I have three daughters who have chosen the law profession.  I am sure there is somewhat of a glass ceiling in the law profession.  However, with three women sitting on the Supreme Court, that’s one-third of the court, I think the glass ceiling is at least cracked.  I returned her call on the long drive back.  We caught up in various ways.  She has been in ministry.  She has been ordained.  I think she has pastored.  If not, she has been involved in pastoral ministry.  She is scholarly and has a firm theological foundation.  She has had a hard time finding h...

It was hot yesterday.  It’s been hot a lot these days.  It is summer in the mid-south.  Humidity coats the windows every morning.  The garden is lush but slowing because of the heat.  Yesterday, as I left to go to the store, my rearview mirror was loose.  It’s an American car.  Therefore the mirror is glued to the windshield rather than screwed into the frame.  Why American cars do this, I don’t know.  I tried to push it back into the glue spot.  It wouldn’t hold.  Next thing I knew, it was in my hands.  I couldn’t drive without looking in my mirror.  I found some super glue and fixed it myself.  Now I could see behind me and in front of me.  Life is sort of like that.  Going forward is the goal.  Watching the cars and obstacles in front of you is most important.  Yet, you need to be able to look back with clarity.   At the end of day I had on talk radio as I returned home.  I wa...

I have a lot of eggplants in the garden.   The heat seems to be slowing them down right now but for a while, they were coming fast and furious.   The eggplant has a pretty flower.   I’ve really enjoyed watching it grow from a seedling to a mature producing plant.   Of course, when you have bounty in the garden, you have to be creative in your cooking or storing of the produce. I am an excellent cook.   I don’t like to say I’m excellent at this or that because I was taught to not talk about myself.   As I’ve mentioned many times in this blog, I have a pretty low self-esteem in general.   Mentioning what I do with excellence may sound like I like to brag, if you think that, you don’t know me well.   I really do have a problem with seeing myself as doing anything really well.   However, recently, after therapy and prayer, I have realized that yes, I do some things very well.   Cooking is one of them. I’ve made grilled eggplant, eggplant p...

My son took a motorcycle class this weekend.   I was proud of him.   It stretched him physically, and emotionally.   I was also in awe of what God has done.   If you haven’t read the story of his birth, you should.   It starts  here  as part of the Grace Street series on this blog.   Start here and keep reading forward.   He shouldn’t be able to do all the things he does.   He is a miracle! He finished his first year of Medical School with excellence!   Now he can drive a motorcycle.   He inspires me.   If you want to do something, go for it!   Try it! But he shared another lesson with me when he was telling me all the details about his motorcycle class experience. If you ride, you probably know this.   I don’t ride.   Heck, I can’t even ride a bicycle.   Yes I am one of the handful of people in this world who never learned to ride a bike.   I’m balance challenged .   J   After hours o...

Mine is a unique American story.  I am the daughter of an immigrant and the wife of an immigrant.  I have two son in laws that are immigrants.  As a child, I would climb the many steps to the crown of the Statute of Liberty.  I failed to ask my dad how he felt when he first saw the majesty of that monument. Nevertheless, I can imagine that as a young sailor, she spoke to him.  He came as a Norwegian sailor who never went back.  The immigrant experience is my story. I left the cocoon of my Norwegian surroundings when I started school.  However, with the exception of my dearest BFF Barbara who was Italian and a couple of other girls on the block, my exposure to non-Norwegians was limited.  One summer, I decided to attend Sunday School at another church during the summer.  It led to our leaving our Norwegian church and attending Calvary Tabernacle.  No longer did my ear hear the hymns in slower tones accentuated with W’s pronounced as V’s...