I’m old fashioned, if you haven’t already guessed. I like the Sunday square on my calendars to be first in the row, not at the end. When I get to leave a calendar line and move to a new one, I celebrate the opportunity to begin anew. It’s a strategic day for me in which I identify who I am called to be and consider what I must do to become just that. It’s a day to acknowledge difficulties of the past but also blessings. It’s a day to focus on my essential relationship with th

One of my favorite foods growing up was my mother’s blackberry jelly. Ironically, gathering the berries is one of my least favorite memories from growing up. When we’d wake up and walk to the kitchen for breakfast those summer mornings and see the berry baskets on the table, we’d cringe. We knew it meant we were going berry picking, sludging through the brambles and weeds, dodging the thorns on the bushes, on the lookout for snakes and other critters, swatting bugs and wiping

Before retirement, TGIF meant that I’d reached the final day of classes or of work and was able to take a couple days “off.” After retirement, TGIF sort of lost its luster. Afterall, once I retired, every day was like the weekend. I didn’t need to be anywhere at a specific time. And the lack of demands became noticeable. Without those demands, with all that free time, I realized I was not being very productive. In fact, looking at myself, I had to admit I made a rock look bus

I was checking out at the local grocery store. I watched the young man bagging my groceries and noticed the care he was taking. He was careful with the bread, put the loaves together in a bag and then put that bag in the cart. That bread wasn’t going to get crushed by moving cans or shifting jars. He double bagged the ½ gallon creamer and the ½ gallon almond milk and put that bag in the cart. I watched as he kept bagging and carefully placing the bags in the cart. Then he put

We all have favorite biblical texts that speak to us. Mine is John 13. As I sat to write the blog for today, I looked up and there it was, my favorite image of my favorite text – The Foot Washing.” It calls me to servanthood. John 13 begins with Jesus’ awareness of the betrayal of one of his own disciples, then it shows us Jesus, the servant, washing the feet of his disciples. It ends with “I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also sho

It was my fault. I told my husband that I’d put a batch of banana bread in the oven. And he started circling and asking that age old question, “When is it done?” When my timer went off, I took the pan full of aromatic banana bread out of the oven. Knowing that my husband could hear a pan rattle from three rooms away and that he’d be all over that baked goody like white on rice, I warned him, “Let it rest!” My husband didn’t understand the “Let it rest” principle when we fir

I went to help. I knew she was overwhelmed. She admitted it almost immediately after I arrived. I assured her it was going to be all right. Then we started with the sink. If the kitchen was going to be functional again, we needed the sink. We cleared it, filled it with soapy water, and started clearing the counters, washing and drying the dishes and putting them away as we went. Within the hour, we had the dishes cleared, cleaned and back in the cupboards. Then we tackled the

Yesterday, as I walked around the wedding shower for my grandson and his fiancé, I introduced myself to those I didn’t know yet. I figured we’d all be family, in a way, soon. When I introduced myself to Betty, my grandson’s fiancé’s grandmother, she commented on my necklace almost immediately. I clutched it with a smile and explained it was a gift from my husband that I’ve worn every day since he gave it to me on our 25th wedding anniversary. Later, as I pondered the day a

It’s August, and I couldn’t stop myself from remembering August family trips. You remember them, hitting the road before summer ended to visit someplace special or someone special. And the question that started shortly after we hit the road was always, “Are we there yet?” I love the word “yet” because in my world it has always indicated hope. Something good is coming. As I got older, I learned that yet didn’t just happen on road trips, it happened in my life when I realized

I had a phone conversation with someone and the frustration on both ends was so intense it was almost tangible. And then I heard the click and silence. I said the person’s name three or four times. No response. I waited five minutes. Then I texted the person with the details we’d agreed upon last week but also saying that if they needed to change it, I understood. Then I waited five more minutes, and I called the person back. I was relieved to hear “Hello.” We talked for

This week, my cell phone went wonky. The sound was muffled and the noise that came out was indecipherable. I couldn’t understand phone conversations and my alerts were unrecognizable. I went to AI and asked for a diagnosis. They recommended a toothbrush cleaning of the speaker. My phone ended up with a shiny bottom but still not sound. So, I was off to the carrier. The store wasn’t busy when I arrived, and Mika was eager to help. He tried everything he could that he’d been

I love flowers in my home. People who know me know that. Flowers are visual reminders to me of beauty of the LORD’s divine design and the intricacies of the power and presence of the LORD in our lives and our world. When I look at a flower, I am filled with wonder. And when I get flowers, it brightens not just the room in which they are displayed but my being. And so, when my daughter brought me a bouquet yesterday it truly illuminated my space and me. The bouquet was actua

This morning I am trying to write down a recipe for Spaghetti for a friend. She’s having special company, and she remembers my spaghetti because I took to her and her family once when they were all together. I’m happy to share. Problem is I don’t have it written down; I don’t cook that way. I cook by sight and smell and texture and taste. I’ve written it out, and I’m going over it to make sure I haven’t inadvertently left out something. I don’t want my friend to think I’ve go

Knowing about someone isn’t the same as knowing them. I knew a great deal about my husband’s mother, Ruth, before I ever met her. I’d pumped my husband, Kenneth, with a myriad of questions. I wanted to know as much about her as I could. After all, she was his mother. But then I met her. And she was so much more than I’d realized. She had a way about her that made one feel comfortable immediately. Her smile said, “I see you.” She taught me a great deal about being a wife, a mo

In 1978, my family moved to Tipton, Iowa. My husband had taken a job with Louis Rich in nearby West Branch. We’d settled on Tipton because it was the county seat which meant it had a little more to offer. It was actually where my husband was born. And his grandmother still lived there. Shortly after our move, the doorbell rang. It was my husband’s grandmother whom our children called Grandma Grandma (their way of saying great grandma). She was carrying an odd shaped wrapped p

As I sat on the porch last night at the end of a long day that capped off a long week, I was serenaded by the calming rhythm of raindrops on my porch roof. I found the patter soothing, not just because of its steady pattern but also because I know how much everything and everyone needed it. It has been too long since the last rain in these parts and the earth was parched, and our souls’ roots needed rain. Isn’t it wonderful how small things like raindrops on a porch roof can

When I was younger, I loved to draw and paint. There was something about that blank space and no limitations on what could fill it that urged me on. I was also a writer who never met a blank piece of paper I didn’t want to make into a log of thoughts and dreams. But this morning I find this blank screen intimidating. What can I make of nothing? Age doesn’t always give us wisdom; sometimes age brings with it doubts. What do I have that will matter? What am I being asked to sha

This morning as I sat on my porch pondering the day, the week, the month of July, I found myself asking “Why me, Lord?” But it wasn’t a question in the face of difficulty, it was a question in the face of awareness of just how blessed my life has been. My mind and heart were full of moments with family, moments with friends, moments when I knew the LORD was with me, and I honestly wondered what I ever did to deserve the LORD’s loving presence and blessing in abundance. I pi

This morning as I read the readings for today on the Memorial of Saints Martha, Mary and Lazarus, I must admit I felt a bit of a twinge, that unpleasant feeling that lasts only for a moment. I knew what it was. I associated with Martha. I, too, have questioned Christ at times in my life. I have several favorites among the people in scripture, but I must admit that among the women, Martha is second only to the Blessed Mother. I loved when she went to Jesus to complain about

When my children were small (ages 1, 2, and 3), I did laundry every day. When my children were teens (16, 17, and 18), I still needed to do laundry every day. Then came the “empty nest,” and laundry moved to twice a week. On that laundry schedule, my husband and I have learned the necessity of collaborating with one another. You see, my husband has favorites, and if he misses laundry day, he either must wear his favorites dirty or do without his favorites. Understanding this,