I have always enjoyed reading stories and books of an inspirational nature….you know, the kind of stories that share survival from some sort of life struggle or trial. The narrator has lived to tell a story that convinces others that they too can endure pain or heartbreak, with the grace of God.
I enjoy biographies in which others share their life’s story, their childhood and how it influenced them or shaped their outlook on life, the loves and losses they have known and how God has used different challenges through their life journeys to increase their faith. I enjoy classical novels that have a good moral lesson. I enjoy historical fiction that takes me back in time to another era.
Yet, sadly I don’t know how many times I have picked up a book with an interesting title, brought it home thinking I would enjoy reading it, then have been disappointed by its content within the first few chapters. Either the language becomes offensive or situations become suggestive and leave me with a bad taste in my mouth. Many of these books have even been on the New York Times’ best sellers’ list and I have naively trusted their endorsements.
I wish that there was a rating system for books like there is for movies to warn the reader of offensive material that is not suitable for the general audience or “any” audience in my opinion.
Ken and I were married on June 27, 1981 just one month before the very publicized and anticipated wedding of Diana Spencer and Prince Charles of Wales. Our wedding was much simpler than theirs, of course, but there were a few similarities.
My wedding gown was made of white Chantilly lace studded with pearls. My neckline was a low lace cut-out. My sleeves were slightly puffed, long and cuffed. The skirt of my gown was full and was cinched at the waist with a satin sash. My train was three feet long. My veil trailed to the small of my back and was made by a seamstress who also made the bridesmaid dresses. She sewed lace trim on the edge of sheer netting which was attached to a silk capped headpiece. I wore my hair in a medium length layered cut.
Princess Diana’s gown was ivory and was made of taffeta and antique lace studded with pearls and sequins. She had a ruffled neckline. Her sleeves were very puffed and were quarter length with ruffles and lace trimming at the gathering on the bottom. Her skirt was full and gathered at the waist. Her train was twenty-five feet long. Diana also were her hair in a medium length layered cut. People often said that I looked like Diana as a young woman. It may have been partly because my hairstyle resembled hers.
We wanted to play the Trumpet Voluntary wedding march but instead opted for some favorite songs that we had sung together in church while dating. We wanted our wedding to be a witness to others of what Christ had done in us individually and now in bringing us together as a couple. We each chose a scripture verse for the pastor to read to us and had those scriptures inscribed in our wedding rings. We used the Jeremiah 29:11 blessing for the future and the Ephesians 5 passage on marriage. The wedding bands were special because both sets of parents had contributed some gold rings and jewelry to be melted down to create ours.
My dad played ” Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” on the cello and Ken’s sister, played a piece on her violin. A close friend sang a special song that had been written for another couple. The words were especially meaningful because it described a wedding as a symbol of the love of Christ for the church. We got special permission to use it in our wedding.
We had planned a church wedding with a reception to follow outside on the church lawn. We got worried because there was a heat wave the week prior to the wedding. Temperatures had reached the middle 90’s for a week to ten days straight. However, on our wedding day, we were amazed to awaken to milder temperatures. There was even a breeze bringing the temperature down to a comfortable 70 degrees. It was perfect for our outdoor reception. We felt God’s blessing on our special day.
My husband and I attend a small church in our community. The church building has been there since the 1970’s. Through the years, different projects have been done to update the interior as the budget would allow or if members gave donations for church improvements. It is a work in progress but as we know, it is not the building that makes the church, it is the people. The love that is there will draw others in to fellowship even if the building needs some work.
Since my husband and I have become a part of the fellowship, we have tried to do our part to help out in projects. It is very fulfilling to use our gifts and talents to the glory of God. One of the projects we recently were involved in was on the church grounds. There were no plants around the church building other than some knock-out roses which had been planted several years back. I don’t know if there were ever any plants around the building’s foundation, whether some had died and had been removed or if none were planted due to lack of funds or interest. I suggested to the pastor that it would be a wonderful improvement to the church property and would add to the outside appeal to have a few plants added along the church’s foundation next to the parking lot and entrance.
I was thrilled when our pastor decided to let me come up with a design and choose plants within a limited budget based upon a small donation that had been made by one of the members. I commissioned a landscape company to transplant the rose bushes and plant hollies, cleyeras and red twig dogwoods where they had been at the front of the building. They also planted arborvitaes along the side of the building in between the stain glass windows and some crape myrtles beside the side entrance.
We are all pleased with the results and are hoping through God’s love to draw people from the outside in.
I have heard it said that writing a memoir is narcissistic. Those who know me well should realize that can’t be further from the truth for me. I have spent my whole life trying to remain unnoticed. I am very shy by nature. I want to hide if any conversation focuses on me. I would rather stay behind the scenes and let others do the talking or shine in the spotlight. Perhaps, writing is an easier method of expression since my spoken voice is not often heard.
It has taken a lot of confidence building to think that I have anything worthy of sharing. Yet, by taking a few simple first steps, I have a new-found freedom that I never before thought was possible. I attribute that only to God’s working in my life. He has given me a greater realization of His love along my life’s footprints. He has also offered me hope that others could benefit from my stories or sharing of struggles.
Through the years, I have been encouraged by others who have been transparent enough to share their inner conflicts. I love testimonies as they offer us a light at the end of dark journeys. God gets the glory. We don’t focus on ourselves but on how He brought us from one place to another. I like to reference passages of scripture in my writings to show God’s Word becoming alive to me in real-life situations. I want my writing to reflect less of me and more of Him.
The ice on the trees glistens in the sun and is a breathtaking sight.
The ornamental kale is especially beautiful covered with snow.
The snow is melting in the afternoon sun but I caught a photo in my yard before it is all gone.
People ask me if I like cold weather or snow days here in the south. I typically say that I don’t because we often get ice mixed with snow which can make driving conditions hazardous. I really don’t like rushing at the last-minute to the grocery store to find one of the last loaves of bread or cartons of milk . I don’t like standing in a long line to make my purchases then fighting traffic to hurry home before the winter storm hits.
The first day, it is fun to watch the snow coming down which is often a rare occurrence here in South Carolina. I go outside with my dog for short walks and enjoy the scenery which looks vastly different with a white blanket. I may try to build a snowman, although with little precipitation, it is often a failed attempt. I take photos to send to friends in Florida or for northerners to get a laugh out of the “big snow that shut down everything”. I lug out the snow boots, hats, scarves, gloves and hooded coat for a short trek in the woods. After they have dried out, I store all the single-use winter paraphernalia that we had to have for Christmas until next year. The muddy walks with the dog leave the floors dirty and they must be cleaned up multiple times. I exhaust myself with all this activity and fall in a heap in my big easy chair to warm myself by the gas-powered fireplace. I sip on a fresh cup of hot coffee or tea. I take in a movie from Netflix. I dig out a book that I have recently purchased but haven’t had time to devour.
I say I don’t like the snow or cold weather. However, I really don’t mind being stuck indoors and having uninterrupted time to work on projects that I have put off until one day. I enjoy planning and dreaming of gardening projects to tackle come the first signs of spring. During long sessions when I am sitting I may even indulge myself in a brief cat nap. I get some time to rest and relax from the busyness of the past Christmas and New Year festivities . I find myself in hibernation mode and finally have time to think, reflect and focus my thoughts.
I think I like an occasional snow day after all.
I enjoyed a walk in the woods near my house today as it was unseasonably warm outside. The backdrop of cascading yellow leaves was a beautiful sight to behold. Our property is surrounded by maples and tulip trees whose leaves turn to gorgeous shades of gold in the fall. I kicked the leaves to make a rustling sound as I walked. I spied acorns and pinecones peering through the leaf piles. Just beyond the creek that runs beside our property, I discovered a tree that was amazing in a different way besides its leaf color.It is extraordinary because it has a very distinct shape in a knothole. The hole goes clear through the tree which is in a state of decay although it still has leaves and signs of life. The fact that it is still standing is a testament to the image it portrays. I have named it the “Love Tree” for there is a perfect heart shape permanently imbedded in its bark. I am reminded of a poem called Trees by Joyce Kilmer.
A line in the poem states “Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree.” I might also add “His love was shown to me through a tree.”
Last weekend, I travelled with my mother and daughter to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. My mother is delighted anytime we take her near her childhood home of Christiansburg. I searched the internet for bed and breakfast accommodations near Abingdon and discovered an 1880’s farmhouse that sounded idealistic. We have taken risks before by staying in unfamiliar places. Sometimes it has worked out to our advantage but other times it has been disappointing.
I spoke to the owner of the farm when I made my reservations. She warned me that the farm is difficult to find in the evening because of the dark and winding mountain roads.Our goal was to arrive well before sunset. However, we were not prepared for an hour-long delay travelling through Charlotte last Friday afternoon due to a traffic accident along the interstate.
We arrived in Abingdon just as the sun was setting. I phoned the farm-owner. She said we were about twenty minutes away. She gave me directions and said she would have the lights on. The travel time seemed longer than what we anticipated and the road was DARK! Finally we reached the church where we were to make a right turn but we were unable to find road signs leading to the farm. Fortunately, the lady had parked her car at the bottom of a hill. She stopped us and led us up the road leading to her farm. When we parked, we could make out only a shadow of the farmhouse. She got out and led us by flashlight along a sidewalk towards the house. She warned us of a metal boot scraper that was imbedded in the concrete just outside of the gate.
She showed us around the inside of the house. It was filled with interesting antiques and portraits of her family. The house had been updated with a modern kitchen. There was a living room, dining room, family room and bathroom downstairs. Upstairs were four bedrooms and an additional bath with a claw foot tub that had been added to the original house. We were very comfortable because each of us had our own room.The only drawback was that there were four steps down from the landing to reach the bathroom. In the middle of the night it got very dark in the house so we had to set up lamps near the stairs so that my eighty year old mother could find her way down the steps.
We went to bed early as we were tired from the trip. We were excited to sleep in old beds covered with beautiful antique quilts and soft down filled pillows. It was easy to fall asleep in such luxury. However, the real delight came in the morning when we peered out our bedroom windows and finally beheld the surrounding countryside. We spotted cows and horses grazing in pastures of rolling hills with distant mountains behind them. Barns and sheds near the house seemed to beckon for us to explore them.
We excitedly ventured downstairs into the kitchen and discovered a vase of yellow and red roses on the table and a basket full of delicious breakfast treats. Our hostess had bought pumpkin doughnuts and apple bread from a bakery in nearby Bristol. She had also tucked an assortment of fruit, cereal and coffee in the basket. We felt very pampered and were delighted to get a taste of the country for a weekend.