2016: A Time to Bloom

When asked about a “word of the year” in 2015, I chose FLAME. I summed up the reason in the last line of this blog: “Flame. An indication that I’m putting the sad times behind me and lighting a fire under my career, my faith, and my future.”

I wasn’t sure what that would look like. My mother had died in November, and my job had changed dramatically. I chose that word on the spur of the moment at a time when I was still reeling emotionally and mentally. I hung a portrait of a firebird in my office as inspiration. And I had no idea that by the end of the year I would have put together a plan to launch my freelance career to the next level.

So when I was asked about a word of the year for 2016, I impulsively responded: BLOOM. I stared at it a minute, but realized it was a good choice. I thought I knew what it meant (a flower), but being the nosy editor I am, I went to the dictionary, where I found these alternatives:

• The state or period of greatest beauty, freshness, artistry, or vigor 
• The period of greatest prosperity or productivity 
• A mass of wrought iron from the forge or puddling furnace 
• Also, a moist, lustrous appearance indicating freshness in fish. 

Yeah…I’ll pass on that last one. But as a word to indicate a time of great prosperity or artistry? I’ll make that my vision for the year. To grow, to prosper, to produce my best work.

BLOOM.

Let’s get to it.

All in the Family

I will be a father to you,

and you will be my sons and daughters,

says the Lord Almighty.

2 Corinthians 6:18

I know two sisters who have not seen each other in more than two decades. The minor rift that caused their estrangement escalated over the years as hurt feelings and anger aggravated the situation. They never visit their parents at the same time; holiday visits are alternated or are skipped. This has caused no end of sorrow for the other members of the family, especially their other two sisters. But both are insistent. They will not forgive and forget.

In my own family, there have been arguments that lasted years. A friend hasn’t seen his mother since he was 23. He’s just about to turn 40. I’ve often heard from police officers that some of the most dangerous calls they get are about domestic violence.

Families, which are the bedrock of our society, can be clusters of loving safety and happiness. They can also be volcanic pits of emotion, unstable and damaging.

Is it any wonder that God’s children quibble among themselves?

We all love Him; one God. We have been adopted and loved by Him. His Son, Jesus, is our Savior, our Brother, our Lord. We have been called by God to be His children. His family.

So why can’t we get along?

Because we’re human. We have egos, which often tell us that we know better than that person over there what’s right and good. We desire what’s best for US, and we can have some pretty set ideas of what that means.

We also come to know our heavenly Father through His Word, scriptures that were inspired by Him, but—as we’ve seen—able to be interpreted in different ways. And we sometimes have serious disagreements with what one interpretation or another says.

And that’s OK. It really is. Because this is what families do sometimes.

What’s not OK is when we forget that most important of commandments. It’s OK to disagree. It’s even OK not to want to be anywhere near the people you disagree with. It’s not OK to hate.    

When someone has accepted Christ as their Savior, they are automatically your sibling in love and salvation. This doesn’t mean you have to take them out to dinner or even embrace the same doctrines they do. But if you fail to love them, you run the risk of disavowing the one thing God has asked most of you.

Personally, I’m not ready to do that. I chose to love. 

A Meal for the Future

They went and found everything just as he had told them, 

and they prepared the Passover meal. 

When the time came, Jesus took his place at the table, 

and the apostles joined him. 

He said to them, “I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you 

before I suffer. I tell you, I won’t eat it until it is fulfilled in God’s kingdom.”

Luke 22:13-16 CEB

This week brings to one of the favored holidays in American culture: Thanksgiving. In most homes, it’s celebrated with food. Even folks like me (single, with little or no family close by), seek out a meal with friends—or just at a cozy restaurant—to eat among others and be thankful for our blessings big and small. No matter what the “fixin’s” (as we say in the South), the point of the meal is think beyond ourselves, to be grateful for the past and hopeful for the future.

But celebrating with food goes far beyond a single holiday in one country. Throughout the New Testament, Jesus gathered around tables to enjoy fellowship—and food—with those who loved Him. He ate with Matthew (Matt. 9) and fed the 5,000 (Matt. 14). What a celebration that must have been! He ate with Simon, and in the verses above, from Luke 22, Jesus sat down with His disciples for the Passover, also called the Feast of Unleavened Bread. This would become the ultimate meal of thanksgiving…and hope.

Tomorrow, I’ll travel about an hour north of Nashville to gather with my daughter and her caregiver, Phyllis. Phyllis’s sister Marti and her son Kingston will join us. We’ll have ham, sweet potatoes, veggies, and dessert. We’ll laugh and argue, pray and say thanks. The year has not been easy for any of us, and harder than most for two of us. The struggles won’t go away because of good food or prayer or the salvation we all believe in.

But because of that one meal held so long ago, we see that God’s love feeds us in a way that food cannot. He will provide the strength and wisdom to persevere, and the faith in an unseen future.

And for that, we are eternally grateful.

Discovering the Unexpected

Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction;

don’t neglect your mother’s teaching;

for they are a graceful wreath on your head,

and beads for your neck.

Proverbs 1:8-9 CEB

Moms give advice. It’s what we do. And anyone who has listened to Anita Renfroe’s brilliant “Momisms” routine will undoubtedly hear something they’ve said…or heard from their own moms…those day-to-day tidbits that guide our children into being better people.

We hope.

My mother was full of such sayings, and even today, if I start a sentence with the phrase “As my mother used to say,” my friends will roll their eyes. But I always found such scraps endearing. My mother’s wisdom, however, didn’t stop there.

Tormented by a classmate in junior high school, I finally turned to my mother, who gave me one suggestion that ended the trouble. When I got into a violent altercation with another classmate, who then wanted to flirt with me, she warned me about men who liked quarrelsome women.

But it was the unexpected bits of wisdom that came out in our conversations about quilts, men, and faith that sank deep into my soul. Stories about how my grandparents lived, actions they took that revealed their character, hope, and beliefs. My grandmother, who fed dozens of field hands every morning because she had eggs, bacon, butter, and flour, and most of them did not. Stories about quilting bees and community, people who were kind and helpful, who welcomed strangers and went out into the night because someone needed them.

It is within these tales that the sharpest wisdom is embedded.

If we listen.

To face an army of 400 angry warriors...so to speak

What do you do with the courage and knowledge God has given you? 

Anyone who’s spent more than a few moments with me knows that my favorite woman in the Bible is Abigail. This appreciation began in 1986, at a writer’s conference in Seattle. I was there as a teacher, but I wound up being taught far more than I shared.

One of the seminars I attended was led by John R. Kohlenberger III, one of the preeminent Bible scholars in this country. To be honest, I don’t remember the subject of the session. What I remember was John’s description of Abigail as one of the only women in Scripture whose brains are mentioned before her beauty (1 Samuel 25:3).

Now, to a writer—and a woman who’s never been known for her looks—this constituted pure music. I couldn’t wait to read more about a woman who was as wise as she was lovely.

One of the things I like about Abigail is her ability to face whatever crossed her path with wisdom and heart. She never set out to be the wife of a king; she expected to spend her life with Nabal. But when her world was threatened, she knew what she had to do. She wisely considered her choices and followed her heart and mind up a rocky mountain path, trusting David's wisdom and appealing to his judgment. She used her mind to appeal to his. Her intelligence and faith gave her the courage to face an army of 400 angry warriors.

Most of us never have to face down an army, thankfully. But more than a few of us have had to climb some pretty rocky paths. Life isn’t always what we expected or planned for. The past year for me has been particularly difficult; definitely nothing I had expected. It began when I moved in with my mother because her health was failing. After her death, I didn’t even have a chance to grieve before my life went through one upheaval after another.

But I kept climbing, trusting that any journey I make with God is going to be well worth the effort. I continue to do so. I now stand at the beginning of yet another journey, one I know will be filled with new people and new blessings. And I dearly hope God will lead me to share all that I’ve learned with the people who need it most.

Like Abigail, we can all use the mind and heart God gave us to change our world.

A New Beginning

A month from today, I start a new journey, and I’ll probably share more of the ups and downs of that one than I have of any of the previous twists and turns my career has taken over the years.

On Monday, December 14^th, I will be a freelance editor and writer – with no “day job” – no corporation – to fall back on. I’ve always been happier as a freelancer, although the finances haven’t always had the best outcome. During my last two stints, I wasn’t as prepared as I am now, and I made some serious mistakes, both financially and professionally.

 

This time, I’ve planned, networked, and made no secret of my intentions. I have editing jobs lined up, and I’m in the process of writing two books and four short stories. My goals are ambitious instead of nebulous, and I already have an idea of how disciplined I’ll need to be to make this work.

A few of my friends are watching this warily—they went through the last attempts with me. Still others shrug, since they’ve been doing the same thing for years. But a lot of folks realize that few things are scarier than a blank page.

Still…I feel called to do this. And I plan to take the first steps with joy and trust. Sometimes when you take that leap of faith, you trip and fall. But sometimes, you soar.

Here’s to soaring. For all of us.

Listening from the Front Porch

As the title of the blog indicates, a lot of my life in represented on the front of my refrigerator. Kids, weddings, friends, ticket stubs, author magnets, etc. But it also occurred to me that I learned a lot about life sitting with my mom and dad on our front porch, watching the neighborhood and discussing our concerns, big and small.

It was a familiar habit, especially in the spring and fall, and sometimes even in the height of summer. We’d finish dinner, clean up the kitchen, then someone would say, “Let’s go to the front porch.” We’d all troop out there and settle, usually with Daddy smoking a pipe, ostensibly to keep away the bugs. I can still smell the cherry scent of his tobacco, see the huge puffs he’d blow around our feet and legs to send mosquitoes scurrying back into the dark.

We’d talk about school, friends, plans for the next few days. The front porch is where I broke the news that I wanted a new flute. It’s where we sat, a little stunned and embarrassed, as the neighbors’ marital spats spread into their front yard, with accusations echoing over the neighborhood. Divorce, we now knew, was imminent. When things quieted down, my parents and I talked about their marriage, and how they worked to keep it solid after all the years. Eventually, they made it to 48 years together before my dad died.

Sometimes I crave that front porch. The intimacy of it, yet all that it revealed about the broader world.

I often hear folks talk about how important it is to receive life’s lessons from experience, but I know that if you really LISTEN to the wisdom of those who’ve already been there, you can still absorb lessons that change your lives. It was also thus that Jesus talked to his disciples, encouraging them to listen and HEAR all he had to say. For me, for instance, reading the Sermon on the Mount is akin to being on the front porch with God, taking in all he had to share. Yes, we should put all he teaches into practice, but first we have to hear him. In his words—and the words of those he has already taught.

My son, accept my words

      and store up my commands.

Turn your ear toward wisdom,

      and stretch your mind toward understanding.

Call out for insight,

      and cry aloud for understanding.

Seek it like silver;

      search for it like hidden treasure.

Then you will understand the fear of the Lord,

      and discover the knowledge of God.

                                    —Proverbs 2:1-5

And...we have a cover.

You can't believe how excited I am about this book. I'm chomping at the bits to get word out to everyone who's ever loved a quilt. Or a quilter. Or who IS a quilter. I'll be blogging, tweeting, and Facebooking a whole lot more over the next few months, not always about the book--but a lot about, as the subtitle says, love, legacy, family, and faith. I hope you'll join me for the ride.

Flame

A few days ago, I commented on a friend’s Facebook post that my inspirational word for 2015 is flame. This garnered some intriguing private comments, so I thought I’d explain.

I admit, at first, I didn’t put a lot of stock in the idea of a “word for the year.” But the more I read about the reasons people felt led to a particular word, I gave it more consideration. Almost immediately, flame came to mind.

I’ve been through a few rough times lately, along with many of us. In 2015, I am determined to turn those experiences into positives, to light a fire under my goals and dreams. My writing goals call for more focus and more projects than I’ve attempted in years. As an editor, I’m facing new challenges that I embrace wholeheartedly, knowing they will further bolster my skills and growth. I plan to work on my health, travel to more conferences, and renew work on the crafts I enjoy so much.

I also hope to be more active in my church, which brings flame full circle. This is the emblem of the United Methodist Church. The flame here is a representative of the Holy Spirit, of the moment when He unified the faithful at Pentecost. Since I returned to the church 20 plus years ago, He has been by my side, with strength and ongoing support through every trial.

Flame. An indication that I’m putting the sad times behind me and lighting a fire under my career, my faith, and my future.