Buttons

When I was a girl, my mom sewed.

She’d learned to make her own clothes in highschool and my grandparents bought her a sewing machine for her highschool graduation gift.

I remember wearing pretty frilly dresses my mother had made.

I recall trips to the fabric store.

These were normally pretty dull, because I couldn’t understand why it took so long to look through all the bolts of fabric in the big bins.

Obviously, I had no idea what discount bins were, nor why Mom was having to search through the many different types of fabric to find the ones she wanted.

But I never got tired of looking at the rows of paper-backed buttons.

When it was time for Mom to begin her sewing project, she’d carefully gather all the needed items and if she was going to use buttons on the dress, she’d get out her big jar.

Where Mom got such a large assortment of old buttons and what happened to it later, I have no idea.

I loved the button jar!

Sometimes, she’d let me dump out some and play with them.

It was one of my favorite things to do.

It felt like a treasure hunt and fun category game rolled into one.

I could sort the buttons by size and then color, and save the really unique ones by themselves.

I always felt a little put out when it was time to scoop them all back into the jar, special ones included.

Today, I got to relive the fun of that childhood memory.

A while back I got a small plastic container with a mish-mash of buttons.

I didn’t have time to sort them into my sewing box, so they’ve sat in a drawer waiting.

I’m working on a pair of little girl backpacks for our neighbors and realized I needed some buttons.

As I dumped out the container the memories of childhood popped up.

And I enjoyed this mini sorting game, looking for the “treasure” buttons that will go on the bags.

Praise and thanksgiving followed.

“Lord, thank You for providing these buttons for this project and many others.”

“Jesus, thank You for my mom, who put in so much extra time making clothes for my sister and I.”

“Lord, thank You for the ability to make things, and the supplies I need to do it.”

“Thank You, for the memory, something I’d forgotten about my childhood that You have given me back all through a few buttons.”

James 1:17 KJV — Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.

Praise the Lord!

Dear Lord Jesus,

Thank You so much for today. Thank You for this mini reminder of my past and how You were with me then just as You are with me now. I love that You are timeless. Thank You for using such a tiny unimportant thing to bring me joy. Thank You for Your gifts, they are amazing. May my life bring glory to Your name. I love You. Amen.

Praising God for memories

The Lord has been taking me back to my childhood this year.

Memories of things forgotten have resurfaced.

Today it was Mr. Hill and my first Sunday school teacher.

Unfortunately, I can’t remember her name.

I do remember, clearly, her story of what happens when you give your life to follow Jesus.

She said it was just like having a King.

You choose to follow Him and He guides your whole life.

I was thrilled!

I knew I wanted Jesus to be my King.

My mom helped me pray for that when we got home.

I don’t know if my Sunday school teacher ever knew she was the person who planted the seed.

Mr. Hill went to our church too.

My memories of him are very hazy.

What I remember most is holding his big wrinkled hand.

We would get out of Sunday school.

Our church had Sunday school for all ages.

Then I would run to where my Dad’s class was and I would walk with Mr. Hill, holding his hand, to Chapel.

Honestly, I can’t remember a single word he ever spoke.

I know he did, but I can’t remember them.

What I do remember is that I loved him and I knew he loved me.

He passed away while I was still young.

Because I couldn’t remember it my Dad told me about the last time I ever saw Mr. Hill.

He was at home, his health was weak.

Daddy had driven my sister and myself to visit him and his wife.

Dad told me I went in and sat next to his bed and just held his hand.

Evidently, I sat there for a while.

My father said he was so surprised that after I did that I told Mr. Hill my sister was going to come next to hold his hand.

Then I got up, went and told my sister it was her turn and she sat next to his bed holding his hand.

My father only told me that story once that I can recall, but it really touched his heart.

Mr. Hill went home to Jesus not long after that.

I’m so thankful for these memories and for the love God has lavished upon me through others.

My dad was so touched by my love for Mr. Hill, but I know I loved him because he loved me.

And I’m certain he loved me because Jesus loves him.

Throughout my life I’ve wanted to love others as Christ does.

To be that person who took the time to walk slowly to Chapel because a little girl was important.

To bless others with a smile and kind words, because they are so valuable to Jesus and therefore valuable to me.

To be purposeful about the everyday things which can often be of more importance than the scheduled events.

I’m so thankful to God for my Sunday school teacher, my parents, a whole host of others, and for Mr. Hill.

John 15:12 KJV — This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you.

Dear Lord Jesus,

Thank You for this command. Please help me to love as You do, to walk in Your ways each day. Lord Jesus, thank You for the memories which I had forgotten. Thank You for so many people in my life who have loved and supported me and my family. Lord, I want to spread Your love to as many as possible, but I trust You to deal with the details and I will simply work on living daily for You. Thank You for everything You have done, are doing, and will do. Thank You for loving me. Amen.

Memories unfold

I’m certain God was calling me.

I’m sure it was the Lord who was telling me so gently.

“Wake up. It’s just a dream”

Because I did.

At first I couldn’t remember where I was or what was really real.

Vivid, emotional, and disturbing my dream had robbed me momentarily of where and what.

I had been crying.

No sobbing in my dream.

And with the first wakeful seconds I thought I still was.

“It’s just a dream”

Right.

Nothing to be upset about.

Nothing to fear.

-why does my chest hurt if I wasn’t crying?-

Then childhood memories flood my mind.

Over and over and over.

As a child, if I cried for any length of time my chest would hurt.

I remember wanting desperately to stop crying but couldn’t.

I remember my parents trying to get me to stop and my fear and frustration at not being able to.

I remember trying to hold my breath, anything to stop crying.

Even today, I hate crying.

It hurts.

And here I am, after dreaming about the exact same experience, and

my chest hurts.

-sigh-

Could I have been struggling with asthma even then?

I don’t know.

But it brings me comfort.

Even as a young child Jesus was with me, helping me, holding me, comforting me.

I can look at all the changes our family is facing due to my being ill as either a terrible trial, something we have to force our way through, or I can rest in the new as another opportunity for God to show us His greatness.

Am I expecting a miracle?

Yes.

But not a miraculous healing to take away my asthma and allergies.

I’m expecting the miracle to be the journey we walk.

What I mean is this.

If Jesus has walked me through the last 41 years of life and has continued to uphold, love, and support me why not rest in His Sovereignty?

Instead of looking at life’s discomfort or disappointment with dread or fear or anger, why not just trust and find thankfulness?

Do I praise God when my chest hurts?

Yes,

I’m trying to.

In those moments I can thank Him because He is just as worthy as the moments my chest isn’t hurting.

Do I praise God when my family is suffering?

Again, I’m trying to.

I don’t enjoy watching them suffer, but I’m too small to see how God is using it for good in their lives.

And yes, I’m still working on not sinning.

At times, especially when I don’t feel good, it seems sin is so quick and so easy.

But God has been gracious there as well.

He’s teaching me to hold my tongue and to quickly apologize when I haven’t.

He’s teaching me to let go of what I think is important and to focus on what the Word says is important.

It’s an amazing journey…

And I can rest in the newness of each day, because it’s not my journey.

It belongs to Jesus.

Vacation

Just got back…
from
vacation.

It was only a few days,
but the road was long.

Not in distance or traffic.
In memories.

We went camping near the little town we spent our honeymoon in.

We smiled at each other and pointed out the hotel.

Room with a view of the ocean!
I winked at my spouse.

“Yeah, if you stuck your head out the window and leaned  to one side, then you could see the ocean.”

The kids giggled.

We ate at our favorite restaurant.

Told stories of the different dates we had there.

We were sad to see our favorite Antique Store a Café.

Visited the shop where we bought our first “together” house decoration.

Smiled at the kids reaction to watching us walk memory lane.

It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me how all this came about.

My husband and I had promised to take the kids camping all summer.

We even had a trip planned with my sister and family that had to be canceled.

“Honey, we have to go camping. I think we should see if our friends want to go. I really don’t have time to deal with the details.”

I made a face, shook my head and related the busy schedule I had that week.

So he called our friends and they picked the spot and made the reservation but couldn’t come till Saturday.

So without knowing it our friends were the ones who made it possible for us to relive some memories.

Yesterday we all visited a church in that little town.

We had been invited by a street musician whose voice had caused us to stop and listen. (Really gifted!)

After church we received directions to the beach. (Which turned out to be cold and seriously windy as only Oregon Coast can.)

My husband stopped and handed his phone to our oldest.

“Take a picture of us.”

Then we smiled for the camera.
Kissed.
Walked on.

I explained to our friends that we had a picture of ourselves at this same beach almost 17 years ago.

The drive home was when the bigger picture came into view.

This wasn’t an accident.

God had been there every step of the way-

Not just in our vacation with friends,

but in our lives, our marriage, our home.

“The LORD is my shepherd;
I shall not want. ” Ps.23:1

Reflections

I love the water

and how it can reflect the beauty around it,

as you get closer

suddenly

something comes into view

floating leaves

colorful pebbles

Then stand back

and you see

The sky

The birds

The trees

Memories are like that as well

Looking at something in today can trigger a hint of yester-year

And then as you think on that

another memory

previously lost comes into focus

And you remember again…

I was speaking to one of our girls recently

she was commenting on what a gift her best friend is.

“I am really glad God gave me Catheryn…”

I smiled

Nodded

Thought of my own childhood best friend

We were friends from the eight grade

(when my folks moved us to the “farm”)

All the way past college

I was in her wedding and she in mine

I still have pictures of our oldest two playing–in the bath tub!

(Don’t tell them!)

We don’t get to spend time together any more

My family moved

Several times

And we just haven’t had the chance to run in the same circles

But the memory is there

And I shall always love her

Her family

Her friendship

I was busy doing

thinking of the grocery list when

The pebbles suddenly came into crisp view…

There was my dear childhood friend!

We hugged

Chatted

Wished we had more time…

And as I walked toward my car, kids in tow

I smiled

“I’m really glad God gave me…”

To all my dear friends:

Thank you! I treasure each one of you as a gift from God to me.

Love, Hope