iona's blog 11/27 - 12/3/2005

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Sunday, November 27, 2005

Talking to My Father
I didn't make it to church this morning. In fact I slept until almost noon and was still groggy all day. Later in the afternoon, I thought it would be good to get some fresh air so rode to Elk Grove with Richard to get some dog food. Fresh air didn't help.

I am praying to be better by Tuesday because I am supposed to take my niece Donna to Stanford and she absolutely must not be exposed to any illness. I am also praying for my friend who got her flu shot when I did. She wasn't in church either and I wonder if she also got sick. I'll call her tomorrow.

Come to think of it, there are quite a few on my prayer list. Prayer is one of the best gifts God gave us... too bad it is often one we don't take advantage of. Just think of the tremendous price paid so we could have direct access to the throne of God!

We don't have to go through an intermediary; we are invited right up unto our Heavenly Father's lap! Oh, I know there are some who would say that is far too casual a way to speak of the Almighty King of the Universe, but I would beg to differ.

While we are never to lose sight of who God is, His awesome power and absolute deity, we have been adopted in and are in every respect His beloved children. We are actually commanded to pray, to draw near, to LOVE Him!

I love to read about the many times Jesus prayed. Sometimes He drew away to pray, often early in the morning in a place of seclusion. He also spoke out loud to His Father as if He were standing right there among the disciples and other people. Jesus prayed both formally and conversationally... and He prayed as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. For Him it was... for us, it's another story...

Like Adam and Eve, who once tainted with sin hid from God in the garden, we sometimes tend to avoid contact with God... especially when we have let Him down. But, of course, He is the author of forgiveness, the underwriter of salvation and the designer of fresh starts... and He wants to hear from us!

God, Abba, Father... He treasures our prayers, welcomes our utter dependence on Him and gives us ample reason to pour out our hearts and souls before Him. Praise Him and you will want to praise Him all the more. Tell Him how you feel. Oh sure, He already knows even better than you just what is on your mind and in your heart... but try pouring it all out before Him and you will be amazed at the results.

The Bible has a lot to say about prayer, but it needs to be taken as a whole. All too often folks take a part of a verse here and a snippet there and come up with some pretty wild assumptions about God and how He deals with pray-ers.

I'm not quite sure how I got off onto the wonderful subject of prayer, but then I never know what a blog will be about until it has been written. By its very nature, a blog is not a preplanned or formal form of literature... at least that's my take on it.

By the way, I feel somewhat better. Writing this and eating the last piece of pumpkin pie may have helped. While the aches have eased up, I'm going off to bed.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Of Love and of Honor
I have quite a few readers comments I need to post on the comments page. I will try to get them up soon, but there is one I want to focus on tonight. I received the following e-mail in regard to my blog of November 26.. He first quotes my blog (here in green) then develops his thought...

It is easy for me to be "subject" to Richard because I know I can trust him to always put my welfare ahead of his own. I think this rare and beautiful attribute comes from the fact that he is secure enough in who he is and who the Lord has created him to be that he doesn't need to prove anything to anyone, especially himself.

Also, he trusts me not to take advantage of him, but to place his needs above my own... with God's help. It's harder for me, I think, because I tend to be a very strong willed person and very vocal, often speaking before I think, or pray.

One of my worst habits is redoing something Richard has done for me... as if his efforts weren't good enough. Without stopping to realize how hurtful and unappreciative that is, I will either say something or just "fix" his work a bit. God is working on me about that, one day at a time.

Hi Iona:

Hope you are feeling better today. We missed you in Sunday School yesterday. It was a very special time. Funny, but we discussed the whole matter of "submission", not just doing something so that we don't suffer the consequences (i.e. observing the speed limit to avoid getting a speeding ticket), but rather, truly submitting. We used the example of "The Dog Whisperer" which is one of my favorite TV shows. It is on National Geographic channel and is a thirty minute show that deals with dogs that misbehave and how the dog whisperer (can't remember his name right now) is able to correct the situation. In every episode (real life situations), it comes down to submission. The dog MUST be submissive to the owner. The cool thing is that submission is not bad, for in every case the dog is happier and more content.

Your comments about Richard bless me greatly. Between you and I, my wife has that same tendency you refer to, always "improving" on my efforts. Sadly, unlike Richard, I am easily discouraged when she does this and it makes me tend (natural response) to not want to try. I usually get over this, but it really can be disheartening (think about that word for a minute). So, I encourage you to continue working on that. I know it will please God as you get your victory ...one day at a time.

We discussed in our class yesterday that men want respect (honor) and women want love. I believe that is what the Scriptures teach (i.e. Ephesians 5), but we get what we need (want) when we provide what our spouse what they need. If I (a man) want honor and respect, I must give love, and if a woman wants love, she needs to give honor and respect. In our mixed up culture it probably isn't as clear, but truth is truth.

In Christ

I have altered the post just a bit because it speaks of a personal relationship between this man and his wife, but let me just say, this insightful note is from someone I know and admire, a man whose opinion means a great deal to me.

Now, as I sit here in a Palo Alto motel room with my niece Donna, I have a quiet time to reflect further on my previous blog and the responses it drew. More than one man wrote with similar feelings. They love their wives and know their wives love them, but often do not feel the honor and respect they need because the women in their lives act as if their deeds are not quite good enough.

Women as a whole tend to be more perfectionistic than men, whereas men are usually more practical. Aesthetics normally mean more to women than men, who prefer functionality over comeliness.

Notwithstanding these natural tendencies, which God no doubt intended to compliment one another, I (and women like me) need to consider carefully our reactions to the men we love and realize that we often dishonor our husbands by a thoughtless word or deed.

In his note, my friend asked that I consider the word "disheartening." I have been mulling that over since the moment I read it. It is a word that must be felt to be fully understood. Most of us can recall a time when we tried very hard to please someone and even thought we had done an excellent job, only to have our efforts go unnoticed, or worse yet criticized. Disheartening.

How many times have I taught the meaning of that word to my children and husband? More than I can remember, more than I want to remember. Right now, I am making a vow to my Lord (be very careful about making a vow to anyone... especially God) that I will daily begin with a prayer of submission to God and ask Him to enable me to honor my husband and be subject to him, including appreciating all he does for me.

Clearly, when I redo his work or make "suggestions" on improving it, I am not doing so from a position of superiority! Richard is quite capable and needs no help from me. We may do things differently, but usually there isn't a right or wrong way about it, merely a matter of personal preference. I will not be sneaking in to fold his underwear any more.

I am a person who straightens pictures in other people's houses and tidies up the magazines in waiting rooms. I line things up on shelves at stores when I shop and clean the sinks and counters in public restrooms. I have no unkind motive about my little "corrections," but I suspect I may have disheartened many folks without even knowing it.

While I am an extreme case, I have faith that with God's help, I can become more of an encourager than a disheartener. I do believe that we women have missed the boat. As the note above pointed out so well, we want love... we want a showing of love... we want words of love... most of us are incurable romantics. Well, if we are wounding and dishonoring our menfolk, they will still love us but may not feel much like saying or showing it.

There is a very fine line between being helpful and being destructive. I pray that I will be better able to see that line and observe its limits.

As usual, God has a remedy. He is the best marriage councilor around. Read Ephesians 5:22-33. That pretty much sums it up. And the next time your hubby does something for you or just working around the house, let him know how much you appreciate it... and keep your hands off!

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Coming Home Late
Donna had a doctor's appointment after her treatment today but was feeling pretty good after that and I was no longer having the flu-like symptoms that had pestered me for several days, so we went shopping on the way home. We were looking for cookware, the good stuff, like Iron Clad or Calphalon. The prices were shocking! But the quality is compelling. I have an Iron Clad stove top grill and it is wonderful. So we persevered.

Finally, after some looking around we found some great buys at Bloomingdales and each got the items we needed. The sale was to begin tomorrow, but after some fancy wheedling by Donna, the department head let us apply the sale deals to our purchases today. I have never cooked with "better" cookware like this and am excited to get started... but not tonight.

With traffic and all, by the time I got here, I was bone tired, too weary to cook and far beyond hungry. I settled for a glass of milk and am heading to bed... I'll write more tomorrow.

Friday, December 2, 2005

'Tis the Season
'Tis the season I greatly love. 'Tis the season I am reminded of past blessings, of precious ones gathered together and I wonder when (or if) we'll all celebrate together again. A large family scattered to the four winds and with busy lives...

About this time last year, I drove all over the country seeing nearly all of my children and most of my grandchildren and my only great-grandchild. I made the trip alone since it was protracted and Richard had to work. It was great to see everyone, including so many dear friends in Dothan, AL. But there was still a longing to have the family all together again... It's been a very long time since that happened. And it won't be happening this year. Nor will a whirlwind trip to see them all.

I am still full of joy, however. I have wonderful family and extended family, and although I won't see my own children this season, I will see my brother's family. All his children live in mid-California and we are planning to visit each this month. Also, our daughter Stephanie is stationed at the Presidio in Monterey and we will be seeing her as well. Then there is our sweet church family... they ever warm our hearts and lift our spirits.

'Tis the season for nostalgia. When I was growing up, we were both well off and destitute during different times. My father had a great love for people but no concept of money and gave away almost any he had, feeling he was better off than the folks he gave to. Donnie and I always made hand-colored paper chains for the tree. Mama would produce a mountain of popcorn with red and green food coloring added. We would string it all and hang it on the tree and over the windows. I remember once standing in front of a store window gazing at a decked out tree with dozens of beautifully wrapped gifts underneath, saying to myself, "When I grow up, we'll have a tree like this every year."

Everyone in our family had a stocking, and Santa always left each person an orange and a banana as well as a few pieces of candy and a small gift or two. Santa left one gift under the tree for each person. Mama usually got a kitchen item, Daddy nearly always got underwear or socks, but Donnie and I got as big a gift as the family could afford. one year we each got a coloring book and there was a box of Crayolas for us to share... another year, a most memorable year, there was something over the top, as they say these days....

We lived in San Francisco, and I was 12 years old. I played the trombone, a used one with a crook in the very end of the slide. My music teacher mistook the result of my dogged determination and countless hours of practice for talent and had contacted my parents about getting me a better horn. He had arranged for me to borrow an instrument and play with a college level brass chamber music ensemble. There was even talk of sitting in with the San Francisco Symphony... but I would need a better horn!

My father was working but his project was to end right after the first of the year. As usual, he had not saved. In fact, we lived paycheck to paycheck, barely making it, so I knew there was no trombone in my future. For Christmas, I wished that my old horn could be somehow repaired.

Every Christmas, Donnie and I became terrible snoops, trying to find any hidden gift, ours or our folks'. Most years, we were not successful, but this year we found the stash. I cannot describe the feelings welling up inside as I saw the brand new trombone case... "Blessing" was stamped on the metal plague. I had recently become a Christian and felt that this "Blessing" had to have come directly from God... There was no way my parents had the money this thing cost. No absolute WAY!

Next to the horn was a huge box... A Lionel Electric train set, a really big one! Donnie had not asked for such a lavish gift, but I immediately knew that if our folks got me this horn, they would do equally well for Donnie. My mother was a fanatic about us both being treated the same. She used to count out raisins for us even though she knew I hated them and always gave all mine to Donnie... at least that was my option.

We found the presents about a week before Christmas and all week I watched for some hint of an unexpected windfall, hoping to learn how they afforded the horn and train set. Nothing. Donnie was too young to be concerned and when I tried to talk with him about it, he casually suggested that they found the money in the street. But I felt a nagging sensation of concern. Did they sell something they needed to get the money? Did they borrow it? I sure hoped not... Daddy was not good at paying his debts.

Donnie and I tried to do our best acting job Christmas morning, but I am sure we failed completely. I can't recall which parent asked us when we had found the gifts, but I do remember I lied and said we had not found them at all. Immediately, I was flooded with guilt and burst into tears. Somehow my 12-year old self thought I would never sin now that I was born again... and the lie had come forth without a second thought. I was shocked and felt such a deep sadness that I forgot all about the horn and went to my room to pray. My parents had no idea what was wrong and followed to see what they could do.

Donnie was putting his train set together, oblivious of the entire drama.

Mama prayed with me then convinced me to play my new horn for them. After an hour, they asked my to take it to the garage where I usually practiced in deference to my family's sanity.

For a very long while, I continued to feel some odd sense of guilt about this horn and that train. I did not want them to have sold things they needed, nor did I want them to have borrowed the money. By bedtime, I could hold it no longer and bluntly asked them where the money came from. They were not forthcoming. Indeed, Daddy was a bit miffed and said sternly that I was a child and was not to be poking my nose into adult affairs.

I kept poking anyway and over time learned that they used all of two weeks worth of pay (and not paid the rent or other bills) had cashed in their life insurance policy, sold some personal items and borrowed from several friends. I was relieved. Daddy might not pay back a bank or loan company, but he would for sure pay back his friends.

Even though it bothered me that they did all that and I still don't approve of the methods, I remain deeply touched that they felt it was important enough to do whatever it took to support me in my playing. Their sacrifice was part of the foundation of my diligence in practice and effort, in spite of talent deficits.

It was a most memorable Christmas! I wonder now if they knew how much that Christmas shaped my life and helped define my feelings about myself.

Every year as my children were growing up, I wrapped as many gifts as I could lay my hands on, piling them deep under the tree, beside the tree, all over the room. I bought things all year, often little things since my budget was small and my family large. All through December, I added to the pile, but saved many, many packages from Santa.

Everyone knew that the gifts inside the packages were inexpensive and we stressed that material gifts are not what Christmas is about, but they seemed as enthralled as I with the mystery of the packages and they joined in, adding packages of their own. Of course there was thorough examination of each bag or box. A little shake here, a gentle squeeze there... and SO much speculation. And following the tradition set by Donnie and I, my little ones became Christmas detectives, trying to search out any hidden treasures being reserved for the last day.

After we read the story of Christ's birth on Christmas morning we opened these gifts one at a time, and it often took till noon. The givers enjoyed the reactions of the recipients and took joy from giving. Everyone enjoyed everyone else's gifts and the kids were great to share.

I wanted my children to be amazed and feel special, to feel what I felt when I saw that trombone... but the truth is, it's not the fancy tree, the pile of gifts, the big dinner, or anything like that. I am now older and wiser and I know that the store window tree is an illusion. The magic of Christmas is Jesus, and that special feeling is love. I would do it differently now. I would worry less about clean kitchens and folded laundry and spend more time loving on my kids.

We tried to make some family Christmas traditions. I pray we succeeded. More about that tomorrow. But for now, you might enjoy an article about Christ-Centered Christmas Traditions by our daughter Crystal.

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