Life by Grace Alone

The whole idea of new year's resolutions began when the name of a Roman god was given to one of the months. Janus had 2 heads, one that could look behind him and one that could look in front of him. It is a good thing to take the time to assess where we are in life and how we should change. We don't need the help of a 2 headed god to do this since the Bible is filled with assurances that the one true God will aid us in our assessment, give us the gift of repentance and deliver us from evil. Sometimes it's a 3 steps forward, 2 steps back process but because He is an omnipotent, loving God progress and ultimately success is assured. In Lamentations 3:22, 23 we are encouraged by these words. " The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." If those who put their faith in Christ want to continue to make new year's resolutions, that's fine. Don't forget even if you don...

What is there about Christmas that encourages me to measure my life against perfection? Is it glossy magazines that boast perfectly decorated rooms and great spreads of food that promise to dazzle the taste buds as well as the eye? Perhaps I'm affected by idealized memories of Christmas past. Where does my idea of the perfect family come from where everyone is on the same page spiritually, where everyone relishes the same activities, where everyone agrees on important issues like politics, child raising, and finances? This year for the first time in 9 years our whole family was together for Christmas. The gathering was complete with a son-in-law, a daughter-in-law and three grandchildren. My mother's presence provided the apex of our family tree. We all enjoyed each others' company. We laughed together and we recounted memories of days passed. Although treasured ornaments adorned the tree and we ate cookies and cheese crackers from time honored recipes, there was no sign of...

Thanksgiving is the most appropriate time of year to talk about grace. Even for those of us who are believers in Christ, we are often blind to the multitude of God's blessings. Why are we so blind when all of us have been blessed so richly? We should be able to move beyond thanking God for just our family, friends and the food we have. Is part of the reason that we overlook the way God works in our lives is our focus on thanking God for his saving grace? Do we think the rest is up to us? When good things happen we're certain it's usually because of our excellent planning, hard work and honed skills. We still nod in God's direction but that's all it is. We're only giving lip service to the giving of thanks. Do we have trouble seeing God's grace in our lives because we are looking for answers to our prayers, some Godly and others not so Godly? We want to be able to check off those things and so we pay little attention to the daily grace seen in things such as...

I have been a pastor's wife since 1976 I thought I might, if for no other reason than God is faithful, have some things to share with other pastors' wives and wives of almost pastors. I asked a friend whose husband has been a pastor a fairly short time if there was an area she'd like to see me cover. This was her response. "Having just survived another Sunday, here's a question: How do you learn to love the Sabbath when your husband is in the pulpit and you're stuck in the back row trying to keep kids quiet and still and hear the sermon? I must admit, it is an intense struggle not to fuss and whine when I wake up Sunday mornings. It used to be my favorite day, but I have to work really, really hard at it now." I first commended her for asking the question; I don't think I ever have. I've been too caught up with surviving. As we look at this central question, it might be wise to consider some other questions . 1) Are you preparing the day ...

Everyone comes into a church with preconceived ideas about what a pastor and his family should be like. Usually there is the expectation that the pastor and his wife are somehow on a different spiritual plane then other people. The very idea that you should encourage your pastor in his study of the word or in his prayer life seems almost insulting, perhaps his wife but certainly not the pastor. In reality he may be so caught up in doing the work of the church, being the paid Christian saying all the right things, he may forget to check where his heart really is. His wife has been the recipient of wonderful teaching for many years and knows all the right things to say but are her words always an indication of where her heart is? Perhaps none of us should assume that everyone is thriving spiritually. We might be wise to share where we are in our walk while we kindly give them the opportunity to do the same. Sometimes people adopt false standards they want to hold all pastors' famil...

It doesn't matter who you are or what you do, most people do not handle criticism well even on those occasions when it is done in the most God honoring way possible. Unfortunately many brothers and sisters do not seem to think about honoring Christ before opening their mouths. Steve's first criticism concerning his ministry occurred when he had just started as a summer intern. One of the men after Steve had led a service asked with concern, "Do you think the fact you can't sing will hurt your ministry?" Although other comments over the years have been far more caustic, few have been more unexpected than that first thinly veiled criticism. At Steve's first church, a group of three young men who were ardent readers of reformed theology took it upon themselves many Sunday evenings to share their thoughts with Steve on how they believed he had missed the mark in his preaching. My husband, the recent grad was not experienced enough to take such encounters in stride...

I wanted now to be well into my posts about being a pastor's wife. For a variety of reasons that has not happened. When I came up with this idea I thought this didn't have much to do with being a pastor's wife. Now I'm not so sure. For over the past 6 years my daughter and son-law have lived in our garage apartment. At first it was a little touchy as we slowly understood how much room we should give each other. After a while I knew at least most of the time how to respect this new relationship. The husband - wife dance was still being choreographed. Although Jessica and I certainly had a good relationship it was undergoing a metamorphosis. She was still my daughter but no longer my little girl. I was still her mother but with no need to direct many areas of her life. We were two adult women seeking to honor and transform the mother - daughter relationship while also nurturing a blossoming friendship. Many people would say that's almost impossible. I have tried to ...

I remember visiting the mother of a college friend. She seemed quite sure that I was going to marry a minister. I remember at least inwardly if not outwardly rolling my eyes at the very thought. How could I be a pastor's wife? Except for a brief time in the first grade, I hadn't played the piano. All my experience told me that was central to my role as a pastor's wife. When I was able to look past the stereotype I saw a lot more. Too often a pastor and his wife are thought to be on a different spiritual plane. If they reveal too much that unnerves people. If they don't reveal enough then they would not understand what "real people" go through and so people hesitate to share their struggles with them. It would be wise for a couple to develop relationships with people outside of the church but when is there time to do that? If the pastor and his wife have close friends within the church it's often hard to think outside of the pastor - church member framework...

I've always regarded toes as just something that complete your feet and help you balance when you walk. To the newest member of the family these practical appendages have a new function. As I sit at my computer trying to think and type I can't move my feet fast enough to avoid having my toes licked or chewed. She is absolutely adorable. I still believe that, even after my poor idea of a good night's sleep (6 hours) was torn to fragments of 20 minutes each. We purchased a book yesterday on raising a puppy in spite of the sales woman's advice that all it takes is common sense. We might have a fair amount of people common sense but we're lacking in puppy common sense. Of course people common sense would have told me it doesn't help if you don't read it. Hopefully we can start on crate training pretty quickly. By now you must realize the newest member of our family is a puppy. Our 13 year old Brittany died in July. She was mainly my husband Steve's dog. Chlo...

I had almost forgotten the first time it happened . I encountered a woman from my church. We had a casual conversation and she stated that she knew she had always been a pessimist. For some reason it wasn't until much later that I realized the problem with what she had said. She had called herself a pessimist and seemed very comfortable with that label. How could a Christian say that? A pessimist always sees the cup as being half empty. Half empty or half full (the usual description of an optimist) , how does either cup have room for a sovereign God and all the blessings our Father promises his people? The good we have in this life must not be our total focus and so should I want to see my cup as half full? To see it as half empty means I do not appreciate what blessings I have and so should I be content to see the cup as half empty? Neither perspective reflects a Biblical understanding. A number of years passed. I and another woman were discussing our differences. In the midd...

How do you celebrate an anniversary such as this? Ten years ago I had my second case of breast cancer. My doctor when he called told me I had a zero chance of it spreading. That was my good news. He then said a mastectomy was necessary since this was the second time in the same breast. In light of the good news this didn't seem so bad after all. A zero chance of spreading sounded louder in my head than the mastectomy and that floored my friends. Although I accepted well and with only a moderate amount of fear the procedure I needed to go through, my acceptance did not make it easier. I was also having breast reconstruction at the same time. After a few days in the hospital I was home. I assumed someday I would have enough energy for what my life required of me but for a while I was going to enjoy the attentiveness of my family and the generosity of the cooks of the church. I sat in a new recliner one day during my recuperation as I watched my husband and son do yard work. I opened ...

I found the lump in January. Since I was certain it was a cyst, I waited until September when abnormal bleeding scared me enough I went to a doctor. When the visit was over the cause of the bleeding was not found but a mammogram had found a possible cancer. As hard as it was to believe I found myself in a surgeon's office. After examining the results from the mammogram she ordered surgery to take place two days later. 50 - 50 chance of cancer. At the sound of her words I wanted to run. Instead I waited for the blood work to be done. When I came home I called Christian friends in other churches and asked for prayer, and then I hunted and found my little notebook filled with verses I had drunk deeply from a little less than a year ago. I read God's words in Isaiah 43:1-3 . "Don't be afraid, because I have saved you. I have called you by name and you are mine." What a tender beginning. Called me by name I am his. "When you pass through the waters I will be with ...

A friend recently was diagnosed with breast cancer. That led me to look at journal entries I had made seventeen years ago when I had my first breast cancer scare. We had been living in Lincoln, Nebraska for over nine years. We knew my husband was going to a new church in Vermont.That meant making a major move at Thanksgiving. In September my doctor scheduled me for a breast biopsy. His assurance that it was most likely benign did little to ease my anxiety. This surgery, especially the timing, seemed terribly unfair. I didn't need some chart on stress factors to know that a move and an operation were both towards the top of the list. After a sleepless night and many tears I decided to do something sensible. I pulled out my Bible. Like so many others when life seems to be closing in on them, I rediscovered the Psalms. I filled a notebook with the Psalms and other scriptures I had underlined during my time of intense study. There was nothing routine about this exercise, no easy fill...

I had surgery last Wednesday. Hopefully this will be the end of an emotional and medical roller coaster ride that has lasted more than a year. I had surgery a year ago and two more surgeries that were brought on by the first. What the first surgery sought to remove was never found. Two different doctors called what was supposed to be there by two different names and a third doctor said that the two terms refer to two different things. Another doctor said according to all the pathology reports there was nothing to worry about. This is a short explanation of the fact that possibly I shouldn't have had any surgery. Where did someone go wrong? Where did I go wrong? Why didn't God change things just a little here or there so I wouldn't have had to endure all the trauma of three surgeries in one year? Do I need to get my questions answered? Who would answer them? My mind for the past few weeks has dwelt on these questions which have led in the direction of anger at God. Other ...

Shut out. You thought you were going to play with a friend. Instead of a welcome you get a cold shoulder or worse yet a locked door. The rope hangs down from the tree house but when it's your turn to climb up, the rope is no longer there. Years have passed. Instead of a child trying to fit in, I am an adult who has lost a loved one, my mother-in-law, Elizabeth Doe. Although I may still struggle to fit in at times, I know I'm an integral part of my immediate family as well as my extended family. The day of her viewing had arrived. Her dress is lovely. Her hair properly coiffed would have pleased her as well as her manicured nails. Friends, and family members quietly arrived and went to the casket to pay their respects just like they might have done at any family gathering when she had been able to greet them. They then formed impromptu clusters as they chatted, often sharing memories of Mom, Grandmom, Aunt Libby, and just plain Libby. Three generations of the Doe family gather...

We saw him. Jacob, our third grandchild was less than 24 hours old. He looks so much like his older brother but I'm sure it won't take long before we will see how unique each boy is and how much more each parent will have to learn in order to deal with each stage of growth as well as deal with two different personalities. Parenting has been and always will be an overwhelming challenge. I remember when we first became parents. I read books, and gathered information from my friends. I'm sure if I had been at all internet savvy I would have immersed myself in as much as the net had to offer. I know I looked at others and determined that I would never do with my child what I saw them doing with theirs. I remember shaking my head over parents who allowed their children to watch more than a minimal amount of t.v., or to eat the wrong food excessively or at the wrong time. I thought I had a lot of things figured out. When I became a mom, I quickly concluded that parenting was m...

Although I had been married for almost twenty five years, during the time right before the funeral I felt more like a daughter and sister than a wife and mother. We greeted people I had not thought about for years. So many faces were like signposts of my childhood. Each handshake as well as the glimpse of facial features obscured by wrinkles brought into sharp focus colorful memories. A string of Fourth of July celebrations at this neighbor's farm lit with sparklers and Roman candles. My father's former boss and company picnics on the beach - multicolored bathing suits and the bright blue of the waves. Each one we greeted was a reminder of all those who loved my parents, and would continue to treasure my mom. As the add on speaker Steve spoke for 6 minutes at the funeral. He summed up my father's life with two words. He was friendly and faithful. He usually had an upbeat word for everyone he met. He was known for his good natured kidding with the waitresses at his favorite...

Should I or shouldn't I go? My sister, Patti had gotten the call. It looked like Daddy was not doing very well after two surgeries to repair a broken hip. There was a definite possibility that the end was near but my sister said it could still take another couple of weeks. We now lived in Vermont close to two siblings. Patti and my brother, Ted were going to drive down to Maryland that day.This was the day that Steve and I were going to spend a relaxed afternoon together, a lunch at a nice restaurant and then a walk in a park all in celebration of his birthday. The prospect of a low key celebration for my husband, and also the uncertainly of how soon things would happen with my father led me to delay my departure. We saw my siblings before they took off. I reinforced my brother's provisions for the trip with a box of wheat thins, a small gesture but important to me as they went to do what I was not ready to do. I thought about them a lot after they left. I called Mom. Daddy s...

Alzheimer's disease was described by someone as the long goodbye. It's a very apt title. Very few conditions allow loved ones to witness the dismantling of a person piece by piece in a seemingly haphazard way . Although the process was painful to watch, we were granted the privilege of seeing my father for eight years in his home with his wife of almost fifty years, interacting with his children and grandchildren. We had the time to witness small parts of our dad, memories we thought were gone float for a moment to the top. Those moments were brief but precious reminders of who the whole man was. Everyone agreed that the time had come to put Daddy in a home. It was time for Mother to experience her own life, a life not always centered on her husband. She tried a local home but they did not understand the problems dealing with a wanderer. Daddy left at the first opportunity. In about 24 hours Mother had found a place about an hour away. It certainly was not easy to make the trip...

How long had it been since Josh was born and clear signs had appeared that perhaps my father's mind was beginning to unravel? We had tried to explain away what was happening until there were no explanations left except Alzheimers. Mother had dealt with him at home including him in as many activities as possible. She had taken away the keys to his truck and so he had to stay closer to home. Filling the bird feeder which had been just one of many things to do, now became a focal point of his day. All 5 of us children lived far away and those friends that wanted to help could do only so much. How many of those friends marveled at my mother's determination to keep him at home just a little longer? We knew Daddy would never hurt mother as long as he knew who she was. There were now more stories about when he didn't. One night she walked into the bedroom. Daddy greeted her with words something like, " What are you doing here? I'm married and I'm not that kind of man....

As I look over my haphazard journal entries that I made while Daddy was slowly leaving us, I'm not sure of the order of events. Perhaps proper chronology is not as important as what those entries say about the people involved and their love for each other. We were living in Nebraska when my mother called with the message that if I wanted to see my father one more time while he still recognized me, I needed to come soon. I had not seen him in a while. How much would my father of more than 40 years still be familiar to me? I did not know what to expect of my visit. I just knew I was tired of hurried phone calls and half-guesses about the burden my mother bore. I decided to have my daughter, Jessica, fly home with me. I think in some way I thought my daughter's sweet temperament would comfort my parents while also acting as a buffer between me and what seemed like an unreal scenario. She was only eight. We arrived home. "Your dad's doing well," my mother said. But h...

One morning while I was visiting, my mother's high pitched voice pulled me from the heaviness of my night's sleep. Two words, "Olin, don't." pierced the air and catapulted me into the kitchen. There my father stood with a Philip's screwdriver in one hand and the entire deadbolt in the other. "Olin, we're going to have to put it back. You have to help me." I could hear first panic and then frustration in her voice. Those emotions faded away as the professional caregiver walked him through the procedure. Mechanical things had always been his forte and not hers. The man and the house looked the same but for her this was definitely foreign soil. My father who had felt so much at home with a multitude of tools could not connect a purpose or name to any device he held in his hand. This man who had done much to turn a bungalow into an ample ranch house now often thought that the fruit of his love , planning and hard work was a motel or a strange...

When Daddy's Alzheimer's became obvious, we were living in Nebraska, and then we lived in Vermont. Neither location was close enough to Md. to allow for frequent visits to my parents. Whenever I did get to Salisbury, I anticipated seeing the normal and the abnormal played out before me. On this visit my father's sister came for the afternoon. She was Daddy's big sister, 84 on her next birthday. Aunt Pauline's once tall and robust frame was now gaunt and frail. She still stood tall and straight; her words were clear and precise. She sat at the kitchen table eating my mother's carefully prepared meal that wasn't much different than the ones Mother used to make before Daddy's problem became clear. This lunch was a bonus meal. Instead of the intermittent silence of one sided conversations, Mother talked with my aunt and then with me. Mom made efforts to include him in conversations by asking him "Don't you remember---?" questions but if he c...

Joan- I don't ever remember liking my name. I remember in Junior High asking my teachers to call me Beth, a nickname from my middle name Elizabeth. Shortly after I was married I added -ie to Joan, again changing the name that I had been called for years. When was the last time I had heard my father say my name? I could not remember. For a long time all I could hope for was a brief look of recognition, assurance that in some way he knew I was connected to him. One morning at 3am I sat up in bed as I watched the dim outline of my father walk down the hall towards the dining room. Adrenalin replaced my drugged sleep deprived state as I followed quickly behind him. "Daddy, how can I help you?" He did nothing to acknowledge my presence. With large quivering bird like flaps of his arms Daddy circled the dining room table, and then as if he seemed to be done with some secret ritual he veered off towards the living room. "Daddy, can I do anything for you?" Silence. Ar...

How long was it since Josh's birth and my father's odd behavior? Less than a year? The phone rang. It was my sister. Daddy was in the hospital. I can't remember why he was there, only his behavior that seemed to confirm our past fears. The nurses would become upset if Mother and my sister Patti left him alone. He would often be found wandering on other floors. He was anything but the cooperative patient. Once in the night someone woke my father to give him a sleeping pill. Daddy took the water and threw it in her face. Although the news of his behavior was very unsettling, the glass of water incident caused us to at least smile at what seemed like very appropriate behavior in spite of the protest of the staff. I hung up the phone, indignant that those people would treat my father like he was crazy. I could feel the tension in my arms and shoulders. I had to walk it out. A rustic park, walking distance away was the ideal spot. Soon I was pounding down the paths. This p...

I never thought of myself as earth mother in the making. You know the type. She speaks to her 6 children in quiet tones. This woman would never dream of using the television as a babysitter. She seems like she was born for the task of competent mother of many. With the one daughter and then with the addition of a son, I understood what I thought  being a mother would look like in my life. I assumed adoption was the way our family would grow and in that context alone I was a mother and my life was full. There was no need for any fertility tests. Then God decided to add blessing on top of blessing when I became pregnant with my daughter Jessica. By this time our shelves were already filled with books that would shed some light on this all important task. On Jessica's first birthday I remember clearly thinking that since she was so wonderful it might be nice to have another child. Nine months later I gave birth to Josh. I was now no longer just an adoptive mother who could be cre...

I've only given the reader a small snapshot of my life. I don't want to presume that my entire life is all that fascinating but it does seem that my life like everyone's has been marked by undeserved kindness coming from God's hands. Sometimes that kindness is very obvious and praising God for it comes easily. Other times that kindness does not seem at all kind. For those moments only the gift of time can reveal the blessing God has given. Steve was in seminary when we realized starting a family was not going to be easy for us. We did not have much money and so we only did the budget fertility workup. Seminary was full of young families with many babies and toddlers. Many times I was painfully aware that we didn't fit in as the young moms would chatter about their children and I would have nothing to add. Regularly someone would feel the need to question me about our lack of children. I would either tell them my whole history or cut them off with a brief prepared ...

Every man who has had a pregnant wife knows what it's like to deal with a difficult woman. Steve endured more than the average man. The days he was gone at school I saved all my complaining and whining and gave him a double dose when he returned home. I demanded a vast amount of stroking and felt incapable of giving him much in return. One Sunday evening he was at a preaching engagement. I fixed my children dinner and then for once remembered to fix Steve the lunch he would need for the next day. 5:00 a.m. Monday would come all too early when Steve would begin his 3 day stint away from us. This was also the week he would begin working two nights 6p.m.-2a.m. as a security guard at a nursing home. Impulsively as I finished packing his food, I reached for some writing paper. This would be a good way to tell him how much I cared, and how much I marveled as he continued to give no matter how little I encouraged him. I slipped the note inside his bag. The next three days had ...

My husband graduated from seminary in 1976 and by July 4 we were settling into life in California. Steve was to be working with a retired pastor who had begun a church in Oxnard. The poor man was so tired he welcomed help. It was soon obvious he saw this as a great opportunity to focus his life on his wife at the retirement home in Santa Barbara. Soon it was very apparent that Steve with his great seminary training and almost no experience would lead this church with only the long distance oversight of a session. Oxnard was the place where we owned our first house and started our family. It was home and yet even in the best of times there was a certain loneliness being so far away from people and places that had shaped our history individually and together. And so after 5 years and the adoption of our 2 children it was time to move east. Much to our surprise we discovered that God had chosen to doubly bless our family and I said goodbye to California knowing I was 3 months pregnan...

I was married at the age of 23. I think my husband Steve knew I was very leery about turning 30 and no longer being young. He wrote me a beautiful poem that reveals me as someone who has been richly blessed by the grace of God. 31 years later I still wonder how he saw those things in me. We were living in California. We had dealt with infertility and we were waiting for the arrival of our baby daughter we were adopting from Korea. At the age of 40 I remember walking through the house saying repeatedly "I am 40. I am 40." I didn't want to be someone who modeled disregard for God's grace in front of my children. My husband arranged a conference call involving a number of my friends whose lives I had touched as they had touched mine. That was part of my birthday gift. We were living in Nebraska. We had adopted 2 children from Korea, and much to my surprise I had given birth to 2 children. When I turned 50, almost 5 years had passed since I had undergone treatment fo...