Ruth's Ruminations

You have no idea.....

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 04:03:00 +0000

As I look back on my life, I realize more and more that I had no idea what was going to happen whenever I made a major decision in my life. My first real major decision was where I was going to college. I had no idea when I choose Central College in Pella, IA, that I would make lifelong friends who would become chosen family.

Kevin and I decided to get married and I had no idea how we were going to manage, a very young couple, no experience in living on our own, managing a budget. I had no idea how to shop, plan menus, even use a checkbook.

When Kevin and I decided to have a baby, I had no idea what labor would be like. Then I had no idea what birth would be like. Then I had no idea how to take care of a baby.

It all sounded so easy and it all seemed like it was something we could do without much trouble.

It was a theme of our life. We had no idea how to raise 3 daughters, no idea how we'd pay for braces, clothes, car insurance, lessons, etc, etc, etc.

I think if I'd been able to see ahead, it may have scared me too much to even attempt those things. If I'd seen ahead, I don't think I would have been brave enough to have 3 children so close in age. I would have been terrified to try to provide for them, it would have seen too daunting.

There is a lot of comfort that God is outside of time. He knows what's coming and even knows the end of the story. Knowing that helps me keep putting one foot in front of the other, even when I can't see around the next bend.

As I look back on last year, I'm glad that I had no idea what was ahead. Even though that year is now behind me, I'm still feeling as though I can only take one step at a time without becoming afraid.

There's a reason that we have no idea what lies ahead for each of us. It would scare us off and keep us from becoming who we're supposed to be. The best growth comes during the hardest times. That sounds so good but the truth is that I doubt I'd be willing to volunteer for the hardest times. I can only get through those times when I only see far enough along the path for the next step. Not for the next mile, or yards, just enough for the next step.

Taking the journey step by step keeps me close to the source of my light. And the things I don't see keep me from being too scared to keep walking.

Many times I've heard the comments, "You have no idea what it's like to raise kids....You have no idea how much your kids will break your heart.....You have no idea how difficult it is to truly let go of your kids.....You have no idea how hard it is to face that empty nest....." etc, etc. At the time, they were right, I truly had no idea what the journey would be like.

I will face these fears of the unknown until my death. However, my Father will be a 'lamp to guide my feet and a light to my path'. He will give me as much light as I need to see what is coming. Not too much to scare and overwhelm me and not too little so that I become proud.

Tomorrow, I have no idea what's coming. But God is just ahead of me. And that's enough. With that in mind, I can enjoy the journey and savor all the good stuff instead of worrying about things I haven't even gotten to yet.

I'm so glad I have Someone who loves me, who knows what's coming so I don't have to dread and fret. Instead, I can enjoy the journey, one step at a time.

10 Presents I Won't Be Buying this Christmas...

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 19:21:00 +0000

Every once in a while, it's good to see the strange things for sale out there. It makes it easier to focus on the real reason for the season!

So, here's a list of 10 things I promise not to buy anyone this year!

1) Doggie Doo Game.

Really? The winner is the one with 3 piles of poop on their scoop. Why would you buy this? Why would you play?

2) Dysfunctional Family Bingo.

Even if you know (or if you are) the perfect family to give this to, I think you are taking your live in your hands to give this as a gift!

3) Beanie, beard and moustache. All in purple.

No matter how much I don't like you, I won't be putting this under your tree. However, I guess it could be used as camouflage in a concord grape orchard.

4) Tongue Tattoo

Even if you're sure this is the perfect gift, you won't be getting this from me!

5) Moose Poop Earrings

Is this a theme this year? Sometimes I have to listen to enough of this that I sure don't want the real thing near my ears!

6) Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds Barbie

I'm not making this up! I laughed at the movie but not at this doll. Nightmares not included. (I hear folks are flocking to buy it!)

7) Fish Flipflops

I don't hate anyone enough to give them fish flipflops. Well, maybe a scaled down version....

Smoking Mittens

Who comes up with these things? Wouldn't gloves be a whole lot simpler?

9) Dog Poo Calendar

All I'm going to say is that there is a reason the year is 2009 on this calendar.

10) Aquarium Toilet

This is probably payback for anyone who's ever had a fish funeral. Or fish hell.

I'm so glad my Christmas is about Jesus, the real reason for the season.

Why do I find myself justifying higher standards?

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 23:38:00 +0000

Over the years, I have found myself having to justify having a higher standard. Sometimes it gets old and I'm going to rant a bit here. This way, if I get frustrated, I can read this out loud as often as I need.

The picture I chose is a great place to start. It says succinctly why we never told our kids that there was a Santa Claus, Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy. We didn't want to lie to our kids. Why did I feel as though I had to constantly explain that? How couldn't other folks explain to me why it was okay to tell their kids these myths are real!

We had 3 daughters and set a high standard in modesty. I got tired of being questioned why we set a rule that our girls had to wear a one piece swimsuit. Maybe they could tell me why that was so odd but it was okay for their daughter to wear tiny bikinis? Why was that more normal?

We didn't let our girls date until they were 16. Boys had to spend lots of time with our family. Why did that need more explanation than the folks who allowed their 13 year old to date?

Our family didn't watch 'R' rated movies. In fact, we decided that, if the kids couldn't see it, we wouldn't either. Why was that stranger than than those allowing their child to watch very violent and sexually themed movies?

Our kids had to get jobs when they turned 16 and were expected to act as an adult by their senior year of high school. How is that more unusual than a 26 year old who still lives at home and can't do their own laundry?

I'm not pointing fingers at anyone in particular. My pondering and ranting started because someone questioned why I don't like Halloween and then thought I was odd because I choose not to celebrate the holiday nor use it as an evangelistic opportunity. Somehow that was less understandable than dressing up as a blood sucking killer and getting scared until you pee your pants.

I need to learn how to not feel like I have to justify my beliefs. Maybe that just comes with time. I don't worry as much as I used to about what others think of me. Maybe there's still hope for me.

With love to my middle daughter

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 03:43:00 +0000

I've gotten into a habit over the years of remembering the births of my babies on the evening before their birthdays. In the quiet house, after all the day's activities have settled, it's a sweet time to let my mind drift back to those births that I never want to forget.

Jaime Renee was my most difficult pregnancy. I was so sick the first trimester that I lost 10 lbs. Then, just as I was feeling better, we moved from SD to Tucson, AZ in the middle of the summer. There is so much to be said for youth and enthusiasm and it goes hand in hand with the words, 'blissful ignorance'. Our firstborn, Christy, was just 1 year old. We fit our worldly goods in one car with no air conditioning and towed a small trailer behind.

We found an apartment and settled in, except for that employment thing. Kevin had a horrible time finding a job. We were very close to the University of Arizona Medical Center. We qualified for very reasonable maternity care as long as we were willing to have residents as our doctors. I was just fine with that because I knew they would be more emotionally engaged because it's all new to them. And it was an adventure!

A few weeks after we moved into our new place, I started running a really high fever and started having contractions. The doctors decided to admit me because the high fever concerned them. It was the only time I'd ever been delirious with fever. And I was worried for the baby. And I was worried about leaving Christy with our new neighbors. We had no family around and were too new in a new city, new state, even new part of the country to know what to do or who to contact.

My high fever wouldn't break. The doctor decided it would be necessary to do an amniocentesis, a procedure to insert a long needle into the uterus to draw out some amniotic fluid. The fluid is then tested to see if there is something wrong with the baby. At that time, 32 years ago, it was a very new procedure. They had just developed sonograms and the screens reminded me of a fuzzy TV screen that lost its signal.

For the procedure, the huge sonogram was brought in. The head of the OB dept was there to oversee the residents. I had 4 resident doctors following my case at this point. Remember, it was only Kevin and me. Kevin was allowed to be by my head and he held my hand and comforted me. Standing over me was the doctor, unsheathing a very, very long needle. Kevin and I were really scared but we were strong until the doctor who was watching the sonogram stated, "A little more to the left, you don't want to hit the baby's head." That was too much for Kevin. He got really lightheaded and had to sit down. He kept thinking, 'That's MY baby's head!' I closed my eyes and prayed.

When they got the necessary fluid, the doctor held up the vial, shook it a little, said, "Cloudy...that's not good." and then left the room. The resident doctors stayed with us and explained that the fluid should tell them if the baby was causing the fever and if the baby was sick. They told us that healthy fluid should be clear. They left us with the comments that, should they have to take the baby then, the chances of a sick baby surviving that early were very slim. They told us we might consider names or no names, funeral or no funeral....things that had never crossed our young minds ever before.

So as we waited, Kevin and I clung to each other and talked to our baby. We truly were all we had. Our world had shrunk to the size of that hospital room. I'd been put in isolation in case I was contagious so it was lonely too. Time dragged by as we waited for the results and yet it flew by as we prayed that our baby would be spared.

The doctors returned with the news that the baby was safe. The fever was from my body, not my baby's body. There was also a warning given to us. The high, extended fever could have caused brain damage to the baby and we needed to be prepared for that possibility. Kevin and I just reeled with the emotions and information we were trying to process. But we clung to each other.

My fever finally broke after almost a week. I was finally was able to return to our apartment and to Christy. I still had the last trimester to go and was told to stay off my feet as much as possible. Christy was 1 year old. Well, we did the best we could. We found a church nearby and were warmly welcomed. Kevin finally found a job! But the job was 2 hours away, in Phoenix. The job started right away and I still had another month to go. Kevin could stay with his dad in Phoenix and look for an apartment for us. A wonderful family in the church came to us and offered for Christy and me to stay with them until the baby arrived. That was such a sweet example of being the hands and feet of Jesus. I was willing to stay alone but I didn't have to. This kind family welcomed us and gave us a real sense of security as we waited.

Did I mention we waited? For a baby who tried to join the world 3 months too early, when the time had come for her appearance, she refused to come. I had only gained 12 lbs the entire pregnancy (that included the 10 lbs I'd lost at first). I was going to the doctor's every day because I was classified as a high risk and they were very careful. At the doctor's office, these sweet resident docs would surprise me with something to eat, a burger, a milkshake, etc. They kept trying to get weight on me. I was so touched by their genuine care and concern.

I think the family I was staying with got more nervous each day I went past my due date. Kevin was 2 hours away but we were thankful he had a job. We could only talk every couple days because long distance was expensive. Christy was happy wherever she was and she charmed everyone. Then on Oct. 12, 1979, fourteen days after her original due date, labor began in earnest. I will always remember the ride to the hospital. It was about 5pm and we were fighting heavy rush hour traffic. We had no idea how long labor was going to take so this man and his wife rolled down their car windows and started yelling, "Mother in labor!! This lady's having a baby! Let us through!" And people responded! It took a lot of yelling and I would've laughed a lot harder if it didn't make me pee my pants!

We got to the hospital and I got settled into the labor room and waited for Kevin to come. I started praying he'd get there in time. No worries there, it was going to be a long labor. Back then was the age of natural childbirth so comfort was never an option. I walked as much as I could until Kevin arrived. Then he walked with me and I could look a bit more pathetic because I didn't have to be so strong. Finally I was put to bed and hooked up to monitors. That was when the trouble started.

Everytime I had a contraction, the baby's heart beat would drop, lower and lower. The doctors said the cord was probably around the baby's neck and was being squeezed during contractions. The baby was too far down in the birth canal to do a c-section. Then it was discovered that she was face up, not the correct position of face down. They couldn't turn her manually because of the cord being wrapped around the neck. So they put an oxygen mask on me and had me get on my hands and knees to relieve pressure on the cord.

At this point, the doctors told me I got to choose which doctor would deliver the baby. There were about a dozen folks in the room to observe the high risk birth. Any shred of modesty left when I was on my hands and knees with pains very close together and a gown that opened in the back. I can laugh about it now and it gets funnier the longer time elapses. At the time, I was trying to rip off the mask because I couldn't breathe and then the urge to push came over me like a large rolling wave. Then the doctors told me I couldn't push until the baby turned face down. I fought that urge to push as long as I could. I finally felt something and told the nurse to check me. She flippantly told me I didn't know what I was talking about. I grabbed her arm and told her SHE. NEEDED. TO. CHECK. ME. NOW. The nurse was surprised that the baby had turned!

At that point I yelled, "I'm pushing!" Then I picked out the delivering doctor and said, "The baby's coming!!" And boy, howdy, did that baby make a quick entrance from there!

The umbilical cord had been wrapped around the baby's neck 3 times! They carefully unlooped it and then they announced, "It's a GIRL!" Before we could hold her, the team of docs were swarmed around checking her out. We never knew exactly what they were looking for but as we waited, they got more and more excited. Those resident doctors brought our daughter back to us, handed her to us for the first time and then told us that she was perfectly healthy! Then they crowded around and asked us what we decided to name her.

We had decided on the name Jaime Renee. Jaime was for our friend Jim. Renee was the middle name of my best friend who had tragically died a year earlier. AND Jaime Renee in french means Love Reborn. We felt like we had a miracle baby in our arms. A little girl who almost arrived too early, who was thought to possibly have brain damage, but who instead, was nestled into her parents' arms. Each of the doctors touched her and said, "Hi, Jaime", or "Welcome to the world, Jaime". It was a sweet, sweet moment.

Jaime was ready to eat from the moment she came into the world. As she nursed, I examined her tiny hands and discovered she had a blister on her thumb, where she'd been sucking it so hard in the womb!

Kevin and I loved our new daughter and we clung to each other. Our friends brought in Christy to meet her new sister. Christy was 15 months old and was talking a bit. She came up with her own name for Jaime. She called her (sound it out) nnnnn...gong (and make your voice go up and down). Or just ask Christy now, I bet she'll be happy to tell you how she said Jaime's name!!

Oct. 12... 8:09pm.... 7lbs 4oz...19 1/2 inches long.... Welcome to the world, Jaime Renee.

Thanks to God for the honor of being chosen to be Jaime's parents. We have been so blessed.

Happy Birthday, Jaime! You are our Love Reborn!

Hearing God's Call over the years

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 02:19:00 +0000

Ever since I have been a believer, I've wanted to hear God's Call for my life. I've wanted to do what He's wanted and to be what would bring Him glory. I found that God was as willing to show me His will as I was willing to do His will! And what an adventure it's been! I've had the honor of helping start a Pregnancy Testing Center, working with ladies who have dealt with abortion in their lives, women and girls who had been hurt from sexual abuse. I had the joy of working with Josh McDowell's "Why Wait?" campaign, speaking to teens and parents all over the country. And I had lots of fun making a teaching video with Josh McDowell called, "The Teen Age Q&A Video".

After that, I heard God clearly calling me to focus on my newly teenage daughters. It was time to invest in their lives and the lives of their friends. I knew I was where God wanted me. I knew that I knew that I knew.

Then my daughters married, settled here in town and started having children. I heard God again. I knew it was time to concentrate on my grandchildren. What a blessing to have the ability to stay home and take care of them instead of their being in daycare. I knew I was making a difference in eternity and it is God's call on my life.

I smile because I never thought this is where I would be or what I would be doing in my mid-50's. But then I think about it and realize that I don't know what I envisioned doing at this stage of life. Success isn't something that consumes me. Things aren't that important to me. I don't have to have the biggest or best. (ok, I confess I am a hotel snob....) But I love being where I know God has called me.

It's interesting to look back and see that God truly gifted me when He called me. It reminds me of part of Corrie Ten Boom's story. Corrie and her family spent time in a German concentration camp. Most of her family died there and she was released by a technical error. She spent the rest of her life telling her story about God's working in all circumstances. What led to her imprisonment was the fact that she and her family helped the underground rescue Jewish people. Their house was altered with a 'hiding room' and many Jews came through their house and were able to be taken to safety.

After Corrie was released from the concentration camp, she assumed she was to go back working for the Underground again. They welcomed her back and she carried out the task. But it wasn't the same.

In her words, "I bolted for the door. I stood thankfully on the sidewalk until my knees stopped knocking. If I had ever needed proof that I had no boldness or cleverness of my own, I had it now. Whatever bravery or skill I had ever shown were gifts of God - sheer loans from Him of the talent needed to do a job. And it was clear, from the absence of such skills now, that this was no longer His work for me."

I understand that observation deep down in my soul. When I want to do God's Will, He will faithfully lead me. He will enable me. And it will be an adventure! When it's time to do something else, He will let me know and in His love, He will show me that my gifts were loans from God for doing the job He gave me. My Father God is so loving that He gently shows me that we're concluding our adventure. He gives me the strength to finish well and the excitement that a new adventure is about to begin.

I am so loving being able to help with my grandchildren. I love so much all the time we are together. If you ever wonder how cool and awesome I am, just look at my refridgerator! Notes and pictures from people who love me. I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

And I am hearing God calling me again. This time, I'm not moving on, God's encouraging me to add a bit more. I am hearing God whisper to me to concentrate more on encouraging and helping my daughters. I want to do more than just watch their kids. I want to pay attention and see if I could help them when I sense I could be an encouragement. I want to look for chances to love them, help out, give them time with their spouses, and be available for them when they need a shoulder. God showed me that it's a joy to do His Will. Not always easy, not always a smooth ride, but always a joy.

When I am doing God's Will, I feel more alive, more confident, less fearful of failure. And God's call on my life right now is to love my daughters better, and keep loving my grandchildren. And I know that I know that I know.

It's not a big, flashy calling. It won't get a lot of attention. It won't be noticed by many. It sounds mundane and maybe a bit crazy. But it is God's Call on my life. I've been called to pour into my adult kids and their children, something that was taken for granted a few generations back. Sadly, it has be intentional these days just because of the lives we lead.

I dont' think I'll be the person who struggles with a mid-life crisis. I know who I am already in Christ. And I know that all I want for my future is to do the will of God. When I hear God's call on my life, I know He is in control, He will supply all I need to do it, and it will be an adventure!

So, where you hear God's Call on YOUR life?

He is, yes, He is

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 17:01:00 +0000

When I was in school, we used to conjugate verbs. for example, the verb 'remember':

I remember We remember

you remember You remember

He/She/It remembers They remember

Then there are those verbs that don't follow any of the regular rules, like 'to be':

I am We are

You are You are

He/She/It is They are

This year, 2011, has been the worst year I can remember. This year, it has seemed that every time we would pick ourselves up from one thing, something else would happen to hit us again. Deaths, sicknesses, divorces, etc, etc.... it's been a rough year.

The only thing we've been able to cling to is God. He has been our anchor when we have felt battered by waves in a storm. I have seen over and over why God said to Moses in Exodus 3: "Say to the people of Israel, "I AM has sent me to you".

This year, we have been experiencing that HE IS.....

HE IS faithful. We have a Father who will never leave us nor forsake us. No matter what's going on around us, He is right there, walking with us.

HE IS love. He is bigger than bitterness or anger or resentment or discouragement. He loves us when we feel our most unlovable. He loves us even when He knows the things we think, but never say out loud.

HE IS in control. Even though we have felt blindsided, He is not surprised. Because of that, we can rest in his arms when we feel overwhelmed.

HE IS our provider. Over and over this year, we've seen God provide even the smallest details in the midst of our pain. From encouragement from friends at just the right time, to unexpected surprises, God has always provided just what we've needed.

HE IS our shepherd. He knows what lies ahead for us. He knows the direction we need to take. He will guide us as we walk unfamiliar paths.

HE IS our redeemer. He will take these difficult times and turn them into something beautiful. Whether that beauty will be displayed in wisdom, discernment, mercy or whatever He chooses, it will be beautiful.

HE IS everlasting. These days will pass and soon this year will be a memory. But God is forever. I can cling to that truth as I walk through these difficult days.

HE IS my rock. I can hunker down and hold onto the rock that is my foundation and strength. I don't have to know what will happen tomorrow or next year. I only have to hold on today. He will give me the strength, mercy, grace, wisdom that I will need, as I need it.

Grace and strength for the day are never given ahead of when we need them. It's not something that can be stored up for a difficult time. God gives us what we need, when we need it. Our job isn't to figure it out, our job is to cling to the Rock.

I will be re-reading this as needed. It's my reminder as I finish out 2011.

Biting the hand that feeds you

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 02:54:00 +0000

So, I have this adorable tiny poodle. Her name is Beast. She's 3 years old and weighs all of 4 lbs. Beast is my dog. Totally my dog. She spends her days sitting with me or following me wherever I go. She spends her nights sleeping on my bed. When I'm away from the house, she waits for me to return. She knows the sound of my car and anxiously awaits my return. She knows I love her and she adores me. I make sure he has no fleas or heartworms. She is groomed very regularly. She's known nothing but love since she was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand.

I had to take Beast to the vet's today. She has a sore on her tail and I wanted to make sure that it doesn't get infected. She's so little that an infection could be dangerous for her. The doctor gave me some ointment to put on her sore 2 times a day.

When we got home, I put her on my lap to put that healing salve on the sore on the tip of her tail. I held her gently and tenderly touched her tail. And that tiny little dog lit into me, snapping and biting my hand! Maybe this was just a one time thing. She must have been scared. So I tried again. And she bit me again!! She never bites me!!! I finally had to put a muzzle on her so I could put that medicine on her sore tail. Afterwards, she ran away from me and it took over an hour for her to be willing to sit near me again.

While she was pouting, I got to thinking. Beast is the best behaved dog at the groomers. Reallly. She quiet, easy to groom, doesn't make any noise. Seemingly, she is compliant and everyone's favorite.

But I'm the one who has be the object of her anger and ire.

Sadly, I've seen that same scene acted out in my adult relationships. I love someone deeply and desire nothing more than to take care of that person. That person loves me and wants to look out for me.

But if that person is wounded (usually emotionally), then chances are good that I will get bitten. For some reason, it seems like we all tend to be the meanest to the ones we love most. Is it because we actually feel safest with that person and know they'll forgive us so we emotionally throw up all over them? Is it because we let our guards down and let them see what's really in our heart when we're wounded?

I have no answers for this one. But my observation is that, if even the animals have the same tendency, then I shouldn't be surprised when it happens. Maybe I need to work on my reflexes.

Always wear a hat with a feather

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Tue, 31 May 2011 05:00:00 +0000

I started writing this in the middle of January 2011.....

I got one of those horrible telephone calls on Friday. The ones with a quavery voice on the end who has to break the news that someone you love has died.

I met Jim when I was a freshman at college. The school did stuff for freshmen to help them get to know each other. One of their activities was a roller skating party. I loved skating and saw a tall, lanky guy wearing a fedora with a feather sticking out of it. So I skated by and grabbed his goofy hat. And a friendship that lasted 35 years was begun.

I was engaged to Kevin and Jim and I were always and forever just friends. It was a freshman year filled with memories. Like the time Jim and Mark came to our dorm to serenade us the night of the first snowfall. They sang "Good-night, sweetheart" and I will always think of Jim when I hear that song. Or the time I hid his car and sent him on a hunt all over town. Or the time I arranged to have him thrown in the pond for his birthday. To my credit, I did remove his wallet and watch before our friends pitched him in! Or the time we sang in the church choir together. Or the time....Or the time....

I think Jim and I were bonded because of puns. I loved puns. Jim loved puns. We laughed at our sense of humor when everyone else rolled their eyes.

"I resemble that remark"....

Jim gave me the nickname, Ruthless. When I wasn't around, y'all were 'ruthless'...and sometimes when I wasn't very compassionate, I could be ruthless. And I gave Jim the nickname, Killer. Someone once asked him what his middle initial stood for and, knowing he didn't like his middle name, I piped up with 'Killer'. It stuck. When Kevin and I were expecting our first baby, we told Jim that we wanted him to be called 'Uncle' by our kids. Jim informed us that he wanted to be called Uncle Killer since Kevin already had a brother named Jim. So, Uncle Killer he was. The girls never thought it was odd to have an Uncle Killer.

One time Jim asked me to buy a birthday card for his grandfather's birthday and mail it to him for Jim. I accidently addressed it to ... Stevens, not Stephens. A few weeks later, Jim invited me to spend Easter with his family since I lived too far away to go home for a long weekend. His grandfather made a comment about Jim changing the spelling of their last name. Poor Jim didn't know what I'd done so he took the blame for it and he never let me forget that incident!

We took a psychology class together and made a couple memories in that class that we always remembered. The prof talked us imagining wearing a sign that says 'I am Loved' and if anyone says or does anything that is not loving, you imagine a piece being ripped off the sign. The goal was to imagine how much of the sign was gone the next day. From then on, anytime we'd say something unkind, the other would acknowledge the pain by saying "RRIIPP!" It kept us accountable without the whole world knowing. Another time in that class, the prof was talking about how important eye contact was. As he caught the eye of each student as he spoke, I made sure he was really looking at me and I winked at him in the middle of class! The surprised professor's response kept us laughing for a long time.

Kevin enjoyed getting to know Jim too. We went to visit my friends at school after Kevin and I married and moved to SD. I was pregnant with Christy and it was in the middle of winter. A bunch of us went to our favorite pizza place and I can still picture Kevin and Jim singing, "I've got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle...." and making up their own lyrics - a talent that Kevin has continued through the years.

Jim and I kept in touch through letters. I always read his letters to Kevin, then to the whole family. Often Eilene (Aunt EB) would add her thoughts to our delight. One time Jim informed me in a letter that he'd managed to erase all the paper where he'd written and rewritten our addresses over the years. Bless his heart for keeping up with us. We visited with Jim and Eilene over the years. They came to visit and we went to visit. One of my favorite visits was the year we got to spend Christmas with Jim and Eilene. I think my favorite memory was when Jaime sang a solo at Jim and Eilene's church as Eilene accompanied her on the piano. I cherished watching Jim watch Jaime sing. We named Jaime in honor of Jim and the pride that was written on his face was very sweet indeed.

The internet helped our friendship stay up to date. We wrote emails and chatted on the computer. We had many, many pun contests online. Kevin always knew that, if I was giggling at the computer, I was probably bantering with Jim.

Jim and EB came for our girls' weddings. He prayed a blessing for each of the girls. A lot of folks in East Texas know who Uncle Killer was. Jim and EB were our chosen family and we are so very blessed.

It's taken me over 4 months to be able to finish this. What I have learned since Jim's death is that we had a friendship that had no regrets. I reread our FB messages to each other. Each message included a compliment and a statement of love and usually something to make us smile. What a sweet legacy. Rereading our notes has encouraged me to make sure I can do that with others. There is a freedom when one feels no regrets. We didn't know when Jim would die, but nothing was left unsaid. I don't wish I'd said I cared more, because I said it a lot. I don't wish I'd laughed more because we laughed a lot. I told him he was special and loved and cherished by our entire family many, many times. I have no regrets.

If you read this far, thank you for listening to my grieving ramblings. I wanted to write it down because I don't want to forget the memories.

Just writing this reminds me all over again that I have been so blessed in my friendships, especially those friends that I never went looking for. I don't think I will ever be able to see a German hat with a feather in it without thinking of Jim and fighting a desire to snatch it from the owner's head.

I know Jim is enjoying heaven. Since I'm not there yet, I bet he's made new friends who love puns too. And I bet I'll get to meet them all when we meet again. And when I see him, I'll turn him around and say, "It's good to see your back!" I hope he wears that hat with a feather.

How can you outlive your life?

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 15:55:00 +0000

"Only one life,

'twill soon be past.

Only what's done for Christ will last."

That poem must have been really popular when I was growing up because I remember reading it numerous places, like wall hangings, towels, etc. Jesus marketing has been around a long time!

But it's a great poem to think about. We only have one life. It's only ours and only we can decide what we're going to do with it. But by ourselves, any traces of us will be gone before we turn to dust.

I think it's interesting that I haven't really thought about making my life count until I was on the other side of my life's halfway mark. Until then, I was busy living and surviving and existing in the moment. That's not bad. I think it's good because savoring the moment can become a habit.

If we're not living for Christ, we will never outlive our life. It truly won't matter how big or small my house was, if I served crystal or paper, if my house was clean or cluttered or if I had great bling.

Our investment in other people's lives is the only thing that will outlive us. Experiencing the love of God, the cleansing of salvation, the sorrow of regrets, the joy of second chances, gives us the privilege of helping others experience those same things. Changed lives will outlive our lives.

The wonderful man who led me to the Lord and was my spiritual father, Bill, will probably die before I die. But he will live on whenever I do something in the name of Christ. Kevin's grandmother died a few years ago, but she lives on whenever I have people in my home because she taught me how to have an open home and open heart. Because of people who showed me Christ's love and character, I was able to love my children differently than before. Because of Christ, Kevin and I have a marriage that will last our whole life. Because of Christ, our children are raising their children differently. Not because of our house or our car or our income or even our good intentions - because of Christ.

I truly believe that the only way we outlive our life is by pouring it into others.

Life is fragile, love is fragile

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Wed, 29 Dec 2010 03:11:00 +0000

It's really true that we never know when our life will change in an instant. I really try to remember that and live my life with that in mind. But when it does happen, I don't think anyone is really prepared.

We got one of those calls the day after Christmas. Kevin's brother called about their sister. M is 44 and lives in South Dakota. The relationship has always been rocky and sporadic. She's had a hard time keeping a job and the only time we heard from her would be when she needed money or some kind of help. She's struggled with alcoholism and drug abuse. She was extremely close to her mom and when her mom died 15 years ago, I don't think M ever really got over it. She isolated herself and we dreaded hearing from her. Sadly, that was the reality.

Then we got the phone call. M took something to get to sleep and left a window open and almost froze to death. The EMTs were able to revive her and at the hospital they worked feverishly to raise her internal temperature from the 70's. They did dialysis to warm her blood. A couple days later and she's aware, but still on a respirator and still needing dialysis. She's been upgraded from critical to serious in the ICU. If there is recovery, it will be long and hard. Right now it's day to day.

I am overwhelmed with sadness seeing a person's life that has basically been thrown away. When a person pushes away family and friends and isolates themselves from interaction with people, what is left?

I'm so grateful that God is a God of second chances. And He doesn't give up on us, no matter what. I just don't know if M is even interested in God or others.

There is a scene in C.S. Lewis' The Last Battle. Aslan sets a banquet before the dwarves who refuse to see it. :

"Aslan raised his head and shook his mane. Instantly a glorious feast appeared on the Dwarfs’ knees: pies and tongues and pigeons and trifles and ices, and each Dwarf had a goblet of good wine in his right hand. But it wasn’t much use. They began eating and drinkung greedily enough, but it was clear that they couldn’t taste it properly. THey thought they were eating and drinking ony the sort of things you might find in a stable. One said he was trying to eat hay and another said he got a bit of an old turnip and a third said he’d found a raw cabbage leaf. And they raised golden goblets of rich red wine to their lips and said “Ugh! Fancy drinking dirty water out of a trough that a donkey’s been at! Never thought we’d come to this.” But very soon every Dwarf began suspecting that every other Dwarf had found something nicer than he had, and they started grabbing and snatching, and went on to quarreling, till in a few minutes there was a free fight and all the good food was smeared on their faces and clothes or trodden under foot. But when at last they sat down to nurse their black eyes and their bleeding noses, they all said:

“Well, at any rate there’s no Humbug here. We haven’t let anyone take us in. The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs.”

“You see,” said Aslan. “They will not let us help them. They have chosen cunning instead of belief. Their prison is only in their own minds yet they are in that prison; and so afraid of being taken in that they cannot be taken out.”

That's how M is and it hurts to know that.

Please pray for M. For healing, for minimal organ damage, for God to work in her heart. And for wisdom for us. And to be reminded of the mercy God showed us.

The story behind the story

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Mon, 06 Dec 2010 23:48:00 +0000

Whenever I get my Christmas ornaments out, I don’t just see a pretty decoration. I see something with a special story behind it. On my tree you may see a white Styrofoam ball with a green glitter tree and the name Ruth in red glitter with a pipe cleaner to hold the hook. However, when I see that, I see a little 7 year old girl, sitting at her desk in an old fashioned schoolroom, trying to make the Elmer’s glue come out just right. When I see the ornaments that look like badly crafted stained glass, I see the first year we had all 3 girls and no money and not enough ornaments for the tree. I still see their faces as we put lots of colorful, though not that pretty, ornaments on the tree.

So come with me to see something more behind the manger scene that we take out at Christmas…..

To start with, I want to give you all a few reminders. Jesus was crucified in Jerusalem . John the Baptist proclaimed in John 1:29, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” Peter talked about our redemption in 1 Peter 1:19 as the “Precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot.”

In the Old Testament, the lamb was sacrificed for the forgiveness of sin. It had to be a lamb without blemish or spot – it couldn’t be scarred or cut or bruised. Jesus died in Jerusalem , where the temple was and where the lambs were sacrificed.

The story of Christmas has Christ born in a manger as the Lamb of God, to be the Saviour of the world and to take away the sins of the world. This would involve sacrifice. Bethlehem cannot be understood without Calvary . The manger must be seen in the light of the Cross. Birth would also involve death.

We all know the Christmas story from Luke:

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lordcame upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign to you; You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord has made known to us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told to them. (Luke 2:8-20)

Have you ever wondered who these shepherds were? Has anyone ever wondered why the angels didn’t give them any more details of where to look? No street sign, no neon light, no flag…

The Christmas story takes on added meaning when we consider that, according to multiple writings of rabbis, the shepherds who were abiding by their flocks in the fields were perhaps watching over temple sheep, sheep that were being bred and protected to be sacrificed at the temple in Jerusalem. These shepherds may have been men who were accustomed to preparing lambs which symbolically represented the Messiah in their cleanliness, perfection, and their sacrifice on the altar of the temple. This gives added depth of meaning to these scriptures which tell of the angels who came to these shepherds to proclaim the birth of the Lamb of God, the Savior of mankind, who would offer the last and ultimate sacrifice.

With the establishment of Temple worship in Jerusalem , the fields outside of Bethlehem became the place where this special group of shepherds raised the lambs that were sacrificed in the Temple . The place where the angels appeared to the shepherds is traditionally known as the “Tower of the Flock,” or Migdal Edar, which is very near Bethlehem . This watch tower from ancient times was used by the shepherds for protection from their enemies and wild beasts. It was the place ewes were brought to give birth to the lambs. In this sheltered building/cave the priests would bring in the ewes which were about to lamb for protection. The shepherds who kept them were men who were specifically trained for this royal task. Being themselves under special Rabbinical care, they would strictly maintain a ceremonially clean stable for a birthing place. It could have been to this place that Joseph took Mary. It was in this special stable at “Migdal Eder” that Christ was born!

They were educated in what an animal that was to be sacrificed had to be and it was their job to make sure that none of the animals were hurt, damaged, or blemished. The shepherds would wrap the newborn lambs in swaddling clothes to protect the body of the lambs, keeping the new lambs without spot or blemish, they would then be laid in a manger until they had calmed down.

These lambs would be offered as sacrifice at the Temple just four miles away in Jerusalem.

There was no need for the angels to give these shepherds directions to the birth place because they already knew. These were the men who raised sacrificial lambs that were sacrificed in the Temple . When the angelic announcement came, they knew exactly where to go, for the sign of a manger and swaddling coths could only mean their manger at the tower of the flock!

The Lamb born at Migdal Eder was the Lamb to be sacrificed to take away the sin of the world.

You see our Lord Jesus was born in Bethlehem where all sacrificial lambs were born, and our Lord Jesus died in Jerusalem where all sacrificial lambs were killed.

So when you look at a nativity set this year, and you see the shepherds and Mary and Joseph and then you see the baby wrapped in swaddling cothes lying in a manger, I hope you’ll think of the story behind it. And I hope Christmas will touch you a little deeper this year.

(This is a compliation of the following sites: http://www.mayimhayim.org/Rabbi%20Mike/Migdal%20Eder.htm,

http://www.cbn.com/special/thenativitymovie/articles/whybethlehem.aspx, http://www.bible-truth.org/BirthPlaceofJesus.html, http://www.templestudy.com/2009/12/18/shepherds-christmas-story/)

)

We won't be remembered forever....

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 03:57:00 +0000

I made the decision this year to not put up a Christmas tree. I'm really okay with it. It used to be a fun afternoon with the girls, putting up ornaments, drinking mulled cider and listening to Christmas music. As the kids started their own families, trimming the tree became pretty melancholy and took me all day to put up and another day to take down. Then I spent lots of time chasing the cat out of the tree, etc, etc. So I've got a few decorations out and it's just right for where I am this year. But I have a LOT of ornaments that I hated leaving up in the attic. So I called Christy and asked if I could 'loan' them to her tree this year. I say loan because I'm happy to give them to her if I don't want to set up a tree next year and I'm happy to get them back if I do want to set up a tree next year!

Christy graciously invited me to join her family as they decorated their tree. It was a lot of fun - kids decorating, talking, Christmas music in the background...all the magic it used to be. As I hung the ornaments, I'd tell the kids the stories about them. There are the ones that Kevin's great-grandmother made for him, the one that my grandfather put on his tree, and even the one I made in 2nd grade. It was a plain syrofoam ball with my name in cursive glitter and a glitter tree on the other side and 1964 on the bottom. Since Christy's daughter is 'Julia Ruth', I gave the ornament to her, making her promise to take care of it. She promised me very solemnly and I know it will be taken out and I will be remembered whenever she hangs it on her Christmas tree.

Then I got to thinking about our other old ornaments. The fact that Kevin's great-grandmother made some ornaments is neat, but the truth is that Kevin only has a few memories of her. There is no emotional attachment other than the fact that it's family. I realize that there are many, many things in my home that I'm attached to because of the relationship to the story involving the thing. I have Precious Moments figurines that each have a special meaning to me because of who gave them to me or the event they commemorated.

As we get older, we begin to pass some of those cherished keepsakes on to someone who may feel the same as we do about our thing. it's a way to make a connection from out past to the future, a way to stay connected in time. One day, maybe only a few generations away, our story won't matter to the owner of the thing and the thing won't matter and we won't be remembered.

It's easy to feel like it doesn't matter what we do since it won't even be remembered in a few more generations. Feelings aren't truth. The truth is that what we do matters. And it matters to more than a few generations. The truth is that we serve a God who is so big that He takes our obedience and turns it into a big miracle to bring glory to Himself.

It matters that Kevin and I have stayed together and have loved each other all these years. It matters how we raised our children. It matters that family is important. It matters that we've offered forgiveness, grace and mercy when our kids least deserved it. It matters that we've done the best we can to model Christ to others.

It matters that we introduced our kids to Christ and all that He's offers and all that He is. It matters that we had a home environment that gave them the freedom to find their own relationship with Christ.

My stories and the memory of me will only last a few generations. My things, as precious as they may be to me now, will only last a few more than that. But that's really okay. The only things that will go with us into eternity are people, love and relationships. So trying to model Christ really does matter.

The truth is that I will have forever to get to know the generations who will come after me. My prayer is that God will take my acts of obedience and make them into big miracles that glorify Him. That will be what lasts forever and that is what gives me hope and takes away that fear of not being remembered.

Pondering the next generation

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 23:37:00 +0000

Having a new grandbaby has made me think about parenting. My thoughts on parenting have changed over the years, obviously tainted by whatever stage my children were going through. Now that they're all grown with children of their own, it's interesting to look back and ponder.

I heard somewhere that our goal as Christian parents is to raise the next generation. And often raising that next generation involves sacrifice. I think that tends to be overlooked today when our culture bombards us with being happy and finding personal satisfaction. The whole idea of sacrifice is not an enticing idea.

I vividly remember questioning my father about something he could do and I couldn't. He gave me 2 reasons :

1) Rank has its privileges

2) Do as I say, not as I do.

I vividly remember NOT liking that answer. And that experience really shaped my parenting as a mother of what I would never tell my kids. It helped give me the passion to set an example for my kids, not simply tell them what they should or should not be doing.

Choosing to set an example is not the easy way to parent. It involved sacrifice. But our goal was to raise the next generation well. For example, we made the choice to not watch any movies that our kids weren't able to watch. As they got older, the kids were able to tell their friends, "Our family doesn't watch those movies" instead of 'my parents won't let me'. It was a sacrifice, but we were serious about wanting to be an example.

There are times I've felt unappreciated for my sacrifice. I've learned that it's my problem to deal with because I'm choosing to sacrifice. My kids never asked me to sacrifice, it's been my choice. So really, they don't owe me gratitude. I try to view their appreciation as a gift, not an expectation.

Sometimes I don't feel so sacrificial. Sometimes I struggle with resentment. I am naturally a selfish person and I wish I could tell you sacrifice has become easier, but it hasn't. It's a choice I make even now.

I am grateful that Christ set the best example of sacrifice for the next generation. He never said, 'do as I say, not as I do'. Knowing that gives me hope and strength and purpose.

New baby tomorrow!

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Thu, 18 Nov 2010 04:35:00 +0000

Tonight the whole family got together to enjoy dinner before Jaime goes to the hospital to give birth to her 3rd son, our 7th grandchild. Loud, happy chaos best describes us all together. I just love my family. I see my husband interacting with our sons-in-law and then I watch him tenderly kiss his daughters. Later, the grandkids all jump on Oscar (I'm Grammy - he's Oscar - like the Oscar awards and Grammy awards!) I catch a glimpse of sisters hugging each other goodbye just a little more tightly than normal.

Then later, my thoughts ramble back to the time I was expecting Jaime. We were living in Arizona. Kevin had just gotten a job in Phoenix and my OB doc was in Tucson, 2 hours away. A very sweet family from our church offered a room to Christy (15 months old) and me until delivery. They were sweet and I was so thankful for them. When my labor started, they drove me to the hospital through rush hour traffic. I still smile when I remember the driver leaning out the window telling everyone THERE WAS A WOMAN HAVING A BABY IN HERE! It was funny at the time and still funny 31 years later.

I was a high risk pregnancy with Jaime. I had 3 doctors following me and they were so kind to me that they even offered to let Christy and me stay at the hospital that last month! I felt so well taken care of. Back then it was all natural labor. Instead of drugs, there was screaming! OWWWWW!! I got to choose my doc to do the actual delivery. To top off a high risk pregnancy, Jaime Renee came out with the cord wrapped around her neck 3 times! Jaime was the only one of my babies that the doctor and nurses called by name right away. I was so impressed by that. And the next day, my doctor sent me flowers to celebrate with me.

The day I was released from the hospital, we piled in the car and drove to our new duplex that still needed to be unpacked.

I said before that Jaime was a high risk pregnancy. We almost lost her more than once during the pregnancy. Choosing her name was in honor of friends and special meaning combined.

My dear friend from college, Jim, was the inspiration for Jaime. Jaime's spelling was French for 'love'. Another good friend had died tragically before Christy was born. Her name was Gail Renee. Christy became Christy Gail and Jaime became Jaime Renee. It also means "Love Reborn" in French. Very appropriate for the tenuous pregnancy it had become.

My sweet baby came into the world sucking her thumb so strongly in the womb that she had a blister on her thumb! She didn't cry much and she was easily comforted. Jaime was tiny and sweet and I was eternally thankful that she was healthy and safe. She was my snuggler.

So I think of all this as I get ready to spend time at the hospital with my Jaime as she gives birth to her 3rd child. What a precious gift from God, to see your child give birth. How blessed I am to have been present for all my grandbabies' births. And even more blessed that they want me to be there again.

Father God, please watch other my child who is love reborn. Keep her safe and bring Judson Zane into the world surrounded by people who already adore him and love him. Thank you for being in charge and loving them more than I do. And help me be whatever my daughter needs me to be. Use me to be her comfort and strength.

The circle of life is a miracle to watch unfold.

details on the new one to follow after the birth......

The Things they never told us about marriage.

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Sat, 09 Oct 2010 02:06:00 +0000

In a perfect world, a married couple learns about marriage from their parents and grandparents. Kevin and I didn't have that. Both our parents were divorced and their life in their 50's was very different than what Kevin and I wanted for our life.

We made a decision early in our marriage that divorce would not be an option. We both agreed and knew that we would be staying together, no matter what. We made it our passion to learn about good relationships, deep friendships, positive parenting, and keeping things fresh.

When we reached the age where both our parents divorced, it was a scary time. Again we reminded ourselves that murder might be an option, but divorce was not. It felt awkward to have a marriage that lasted longer than all our parents. The parents were bitter and we struggled wtih feeling guilty. That took a while to work through.

We've now been married for 33 years. And this is what no one told us. The kids are settled into their families and they are now raising their children. Our focus is now on us. That's a little scary after spending the first 30 years concentrating on raising the kids.

Things are calmer and slower these days. That's really nice. What's even nicer is that, after 33 years, we are more in touch with each other. I can tell you how many times I'll go to call Kevin and a call from Kevin rings just then. Because of our decades of shared life, we often need only say a few words to know exactly what we want to say. Kevin knows what I like and I know what Kevin likes. We know what makes the other person ticked off and we've learned how to best respond when the other is upset.

Big things aren't so big anymore. Nothing feels impossible or insurmountable anymore. Add to that a wonderful sense of peace and contentment that permeates into all the corners of our life.

I never knew how true Robert Browning's quote is: "Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be." Nobody told us that the longer you're married, the better it gets. I think I always pictured raising children and then getting old and infirm so that those twilight years would be taking care of each other's health problems, and then we die.

I was so wrong. I still like being with Kevin more than anyone else! Kevin can make me laugh until I cry. We truly have meshed into contentment. The power struggles are behind us. I'm happy if Kevin gets what he wants and he's happy if I get what I want. So many things just don't matter in the big picture.

I hope our lives will give younger couples hope and encouragement that it is worth working through conflict. That it's worth really getting to know each other more and more.

And it gets easier, it really does. Because you know each other well, frustration and tension and tempers are much less and feeling like you're on the same page becomes the norm.

I know that marriage can be really hard work. No one thought Kevin and I were going to be able to stay together and folks told us that very openly. But God is bigger than our circumstances and His love is extravagant enough to fill us and teach us how to love and live together. We aren't the exception - God is.

As we come up to our 34th anniversary, I am just excited to be loving, living and laughing with the husband of my youth. It has been worth all the hard times.

Secret Language of Grandparents

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 19:21:00 +0000

The other day I was at Target and heard a woman talking to someone. Without even seeing her, I knew it was a grandmother talking to her grandchild. We were speaking the same language. It's a totally different way of talking as a grandparent than as a parent.

As a parent, I was responsible for raising my children. Therefore, I had to be diligent and consistent with my kids. I had to correct and steer their behavior, attitudes, words, etc, etc. It was my job to mold the next generation. I took that job seriously even when it would have been easier to ignore things. My consistency mattered as my children grew up.

I did the best job I could. I messed up because I'm a fallen person. I was often aware that my children were a reflection of me. Like it or not, we all tend to see a child's action and bring it back to the parent. "A nut doesn't fall far from the tree." In spite of telling myself that each person is accountable for their own actions, I still felt the pressure to shape my children's behavior.

Then along comes the grand joy of being a grandparent. *Insert big sigh* I am no longer responsible for raising my grandchildren. I am responsible for loving them. Nothing more and nothing less. I no longer make the rules, I enforce someone else's rules for them. No one looks at their actions and blames grandparenting! There is a real freedom in being a grandparent.

So, what is that secret language? First, in order to sound like a grandparent, you have to slow your speech a little. Your words are liberally sprinkled with praise, encouragement and 'I love you's. Grandparent-ese drops the harried frustration, repeats words as needed and pauses more than usual.

Grandparent-ese is a native language of children. Sadly, parents have a difficult time understanding this language. They are usually convinced that someone besides the grandparent is speaking. Around grandparents, one will often hear, "That is not the person who raised me!"

When I saw the person I overheard talking at Target, I was right that it was a grandmother. And I wasn't surprised because I speak her language!

April in Texas

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Fri, 09 Apr 2010 01:59:00 +0000

I love, love, love April in Texas. In April 1982, Kevin and I and our 3 little girls, ages 1, 2, 3, moved to Texas from Arizona. We'd been in Arizona for 3 years and I was craving to see something green that wasn't covered in dust. Kevin promised me that it would be green. If you've ever crossed Texas from west to east, it doesn't really start getting nice and green until Dallas and east. It took a LOOOOONNNGGG time to actually see green. On the east side of Dallas, I found myself staring at the beautiful wildflowers along the road . Everything was in bloom. It was paradise! It was breathtaking. I soaked up all the different colors of green in the trees, in the buds, on the bushes. And the rainbow of flowers strewn all over. It was just so, so beautiful to me.

My favorite April flowers in Texas are the Bluebonnets.

Then I love the way the wisteria looks like it drips off the vine.

In the midst of this, the azaleas are in full bloom. Brilliant color all around. I love it!!

And rounding all this beauty up is the dogwood tree. It's so feminine and such a pretty pink. And it's in full bloom right now.

April in East Texas is a season that makes me feel closer to God, my creator. He made those brilliant flowers for our enjoyment. I can do nothing but praise Him as I see his creation in bloom.

Carpe Diem and Savor April!!

35 birthdays and counting

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 18:52:00 +0000

Happy birthday, Kevin! This was your 17th birthday and the first one we celebrated together. We'd been dating for about 3 or 4 months and we'd exchanged rings and were officially going steady. My class ring is on your little finger!

In the following 35 years, I've been able to celebrate your birthdays with you. We've been through a lifetime of experiences. Most importantly, we've been through them together. We started with nothing and have come such a long way.

When we first married, we moved from NJ to SD so that we could be just the 2 of us. Then we were like the 3 Bears: We moved to SD but it was too cold. Then we moved to AZ and it was too hot. Then we moved to E. Texas and it was just right!

We've made a history together and served and worshiped God together. We've raised our girls together. We've driven each other crazy but we've always been committed to each other.

I'm so glad that we've kept a sense of humor through it all. I love that we know what the other is thinking with just a look or a word. I love the comfortableness we've achieved together.

Here's to many more birthdays!

I love you, Sweatheart!!

Trust - where does it begin?

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 17:07:00 +0000

My father used to love to tell a story about me. I heard it many times over the years. When I was a baby (under a year) both my parents worked and an older lady named Mary came to our house to watch my brother and me. I was just learning to walk and I loved to climb. I would climb onto the coffee table and toddle to Mary at the other end. Then I would jump into her arms. I'd laugh and do it again and again.

When my parents were home, I would still play my game. I would climb onto the coffee table, toddle to the end and then jump. But no one was there to catch me. My parents knew about the game but they thought it was funnier to watch me jump off the coffee table. And they'd laugh even more when I'd stop crying and then do it again.

As I grew up, I wondered why my parents would laugh about that story. I felt stupid whenever people would laugh at me. Then I became a parent and later a grandparent.

WHAT WERE MY PARENTS THINKING???!?!?! Who in their right mind lets a baby walk off the end of a coffee table knowing the baby would fall onto the wood floor.?!?!

That baby trusted that someone was going to catch her. That baby had experienced being caught and had fun and thought anyone would catch her. Instead of learning trust so that she could continue to trust as she grew, she learned that not everyone could be trusted and people were going to laugh at her when she fell and cried.

I know there were other incidents that cemented my inability to trust others but I think this was the root. My life motto is "You can get bitter or you can get better". I wanted to be a different parent to my children. When they cried, I was there. When they were hurt, I was there. When they needed me, I was there.

I knew that trusting me, their mom, was a key for them to be able to trust God, their heavenly Father, and then their husband

For me, learning to trust has always been a long road. It took me a long time to trust Kevin and a long time to trust God. I was always afraid that I'd fall and He wouldn't catch me.

We parents don't always realize the impact we have on our children. We don't realize the depth we can hurt or build up our children. I am so thankful for the opportunity to help build trust in my grandkids.

That's my thinking. What do you think?

More than you ever imagined

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 14:05:00 +0000

I decided to list some things about myself that very few people, if any, know. This may be a challenge for me but I figure it's good exercise for my memory muscle. Here goes....

1) I still remember the layout of the house I lived in when I was 3.

2) In that same house, I remember tasting spinach for the first time. I hated it but pretended it was making me strong like Popeye to avoid eating any more. My parents were not impressed.

3) When I was 3 or 4, we attended a real country church. I got a fan to fan myself while sitting during the sermon. I pretended to read the words in the hymn books and would sing along with everyone else. Except that I sang the story of Little Red Riding Hood....loudly!

4) We moved to NJ when I was 4. The first winter we were there, it was really hard financially. A neighbor gave us countless eggplants. I have never eaten eggplant since that time.

5) I was a sneaky kid but not adept at covering my steps yet. When I found some scissors and cut the letter "R"in the cat's fur, I was surprised my parents figured out it was me!

6) I adored my grandmother but only got to see her once a year. When I was in 5th grade, she lived with us for a year. After she left, I kept a pillow of hers because it smelled like her. I took that pillow to camp in high school and the girls there filled it with rocks as a joke. They never understood why I cried so hard.

7) I always thought I must've been mixed up at the hospital with some other kid. I used to dream what my 'real' family was like.

8) I have loved the ocean from the first time I saw it. Playing in the sand was like icing on the cake.

9) I hated being the youngest in my class. I lied about my birthday so I could be 'older'.

10) Behind our church was a concord grape orchard (more like a single fence). When the grapes were ripe, we'd sneak out of church and eat grapes until we couldn't eat any more.

11) When I was 12, I read 2 books by Beverly Cleary, "Jean and Johnny" and "Fifteen" over and over and over.

12) I also loved "Harriet the Spy".

13) I liked a boy named David in 4th grade. My mother told me I couldn't marry him because he was Jewish. I told my mother I'd marry anyone I wanted!

14) In 6th grade, the principal stopped our class in the hall and announced that I'd scored highest on the school's aptitude tests. Instead of feeling proud, I was mortified and embarrassed.

14) I had a crush on my 3rd grade teacher. He was a brand new teacher and I was sure he'd wait for me until I grew up.

15) When I was 12, I thought Native Americans were the most beautiful people I'd ever seen. I told my mother I wanted to marry an Indian one day.

16) My mother told me I couldn't marry an Indian because we'd have mixed race children.

17) I told my mother that we'd just adopt a white baby and an Indian baby and that would solve the problem!

18) My mother told me she could never love an adopted grandchild. I decided right then it was HER problem, not mine!

19) Most of my life I have felt like I didn't fit in. It took me to my 40's to feel comfortable with myself.

20) I've never expected to succeed. Making the field hockey varsity team in high school was a shock.

21) In high school, I ate lunch with a guy who carried his Bible and called himself a Jesus Freak. I was always in awe of him.

22) The first pop song I learned all the words to was Smokey Robinson's "Tears of a Clown".

23) The first album I ever owned was Carole King's "Tapestry".

24) At the end of my first year of college, Kevin drove from NJ to Iowa to pick me up. (we were both 18) I sneaked him into my dorm room so he could sleep before we loaded up to drive back.

25) In high school, I loved Advanced Biology. I secretly wanted to be a Genetic Counselor but never knew how to pursue it.

26) Kevin and I got our first waterbed in 1977 and still sleep on a waterbed!

27) When I turned 40, I got my eyeliner tattooed on and have never regretted it!

So, did you learn anything new?

A story with a happy ending

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 19:44:00 +0000

Once upon a time, there was a 15 year old teenager named Jaime. Jaime grew up in a house full of pets but she really wanted her very own cat.

The summer Jaime was 15, she was gone for a couple months touring with Young Continentals. While she was gone, her mother found a sweet, friendly stray cat. This cat followed Jaime's mother home and she decided to keep the cat for Jaime. Since it was going to be Jaime's cat, the sweet friendly cat was called JC. When Jaime returned home, she was very happy to have her own cat.

JC was spayed and declawed and was a very content inside cat. The vet said JC was a little younger than 1 year old. She had a few odd quirks.

JC loved to jump up onto the counters. Actually, she loved to jump onto anything taller than her. And while she explored the counters, she developed the habit of tipping over cups. Every cup she would find, she would knock it over. Eventually, she trained all of us to put our cups in the sink or empty them before we set them down.

JC also loved to lie on top of things. She really liked lying on bakery boxes. She slept on top of Kylene's birthday cake and Christy's graduation cake. If there was a box, JC was on it or in it.

And JC loved people. If she couldn't sit on your lap, she'd sit on your shoulders!

Now teenage Jaime started growing up. She met Slade and wanted to get married. Slade was not a cat person. Jaime had to find a new home for JC. Her friends, the Holcomb's, took JC in.

A few years went by and the Holcomb's called Jaime's parents. They couldn't keep JC anymore and would Jaime's parents like to take JC back? So JC went back to her original family and settled in to enjoy her old age.

A couple more years went by and JC decided she wanted to explore the great outdoors. She figured out how to go through the dog door and figured out how to wiggle out of her collar. She made friends with another cat in the house, Tux. Tux got sick and had to be put to sleep. Did JC sense something that day? We'll never know. JC went out the dog door and didn't come back.

JC's family called the Shelter, Animal Control, put an ad in the paper, but to no avail. JC was never found and her family finally figured she'd been hit by a car since the house was only a short way from a busy street. The family got a new cat who settled in to enjoy being pampered and spoiled.

3 years later, Jaime's mom was driving up the street and happened to see a neighbor walking into his house and the cat at his feet looked exactly like JC! JC was a very distinct calico and Jaime's mom recognized JC right away. She backed up and asked the neighbor about the cat. "Did you find this cat?" The neighbor said that the cat showed up at their house 3 years ago and they took her in!!! Jaime's mom called the cat and JC walked right up to her! Jaime's mom was excited and amazed! The neighbors were very gracious and apologized for not checking with the neighbors before they took her in. JC had only been 2 doors away for 3 years!!

Jaime was 15 the summer of 1995. JC was born in the early spring of 1995. That makes JC 14 years old!!! JC is now at Jaime's parents' house, warm and snug and getting used to being home. She is happily napping with Ally. She answers to her name and will be slowly introduced to the other animals who joined the family after JC disappeared.

So, after 3 years of being presumed dead, JC is home and will live the rest of her life in warmth, comfort and love.

The end.

Toddlers and Tiraras and Pageants.....Oh Crap!

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 18:59:00 +0000

Yesterday was a very long, but very interesting day. Kylene entered Ally in this pageant, Toddlers and Tiaras, the TV show, was following 3 little girls in this pageant and unbeknownst to us, we were going to have our own adventure! This is the inside scoop.

Whenever I'd heard the term 'glitz' pageant, I just thought the kids wore extra-sparkly dresses and some makeup. Can you say naive? Kylene and I were in for more than a few surprises!

I had no clue that kids were so well trained for these pageants. As young as 2, these kids knew exactly where to stand on stage, where to walk, how to walk, who to look at and how to look. Ally is an adorable kid but she really looked lost on stage.

Because of the TV show, all the kids had to wear some makeup and have their hair done. The lady who did Ally's makeup and hair was very sweet and encouraging. Ally looked great in her makeup but her hair wasn't as pretty as her natural hair. Here's Ally just before the first time she went on stage:

Then things got interesting.....

Ally was supposed to have 3 outfits. We were going to change one of the outfits up and use it twice, but after seeing the outfits the other kids had, we knew we'd need to go get another outfit during the lunch break. The other kids' outfits were mesmerizing. These kids (or rather their moms) were professionals at this pageant stuff. It felt like someone dressed in jeans and a t-shirt trying to compete with someone decked out in a Las Vegas showgirl outfit.

So, time to go to lunch. Kylene couldn't find her keys and it took about 45 minutes to discover that some guy had picked them up and was just holding them in the audience....argh...

Kylene found an adorable dress (that will double for a terrific Christmas dress!) and it was 50% off. When Ally tried the dress on, her poor hair was looking pretty bad. So Kylene just wet it down and it looked great. (no more messing with that kid's wonderfully naturally curly hair). We added a rhinestone necklace and her big 'diamond' ring and here's how Ally looked before singing, "Diamonds are a girls' best friend":

Ally was having a grand time and was totally oblivious to what her mom was dealing with.... Kylene misplaced her phone. Before we had to retrace our route, she finally found the phone one the ground by the car. And then she discovered that she had left her camcorder and camera in her sister-in-law's car and her stuff was now in Nacogdoches. That was going to add an hour to her travel time home.

In the midst of that, Benjamin had a diaper blowout. A big one. The pageant was held in an elementary school and they didn't have any place to change a baby's diaper. Imagine that! *grin* Poor Benjamin got his britches changed and got all cleaned up in the back of the van.

I give Kylene much credit. Not once did she snap at Ally or get frustrated with her or impatient. It was pretty amazing. And Ally was having a great time. After her singing, it was time to wait a couple more hours for all the crowning. Not only did Ally play well with the toys Kylene thoughtfully brought, she also made friends with other kids nearby. More than once, she'd ask little girls, 'do you want to play with me?'. I think there were a number of moms who were thankful Ally was there too!

Ally usually takes a 2-3 hour nap every day. She was so tired by the end of the pageant. I'm guessing, when you see drama on Toddlers and Tiaras, it's probably at the end of the day, when kids are tired and cranky. Ally really wanted a crown and they were all sitting up on a table on the stage for all to see all day long. Because these others kids were such professionals at pageants, Kylene began to prepare Ally for the fact that not everyone wins a crown.

Actually, at that point, Kylene really wanted to go home. And I don't blame her. It was one of those days that will be laughed about in the future. In the present, it was like spending a slow motion day in hell.

Then they started the crowning... All these spray tanned kiddos went up to get their crowns and Kylene kept telling Ally that not everyone gets a crown. Just as Kylene was getting up to go change Ally into her jeans, Ally's name is called for Overall Most Beautiful! She got a crown!! I think both Kylene AND Ally were shocked!

Everyone loaded up, happy and exhausted, and headed home, by way of Nacogdoches to pick up the camera first. Kylene had one more adventure when she drove into a ditch and had to have a tow truck help her out.

It was definitely Ally's day. She had fun and got a crown. Next time she wants a crown, it may be cheaper to buy one!

Back in the saddle again

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 22:14:00 +0000

It's been about 2 1/2 years since I've been on a work weekend at Pine Cove. This weekend Ben, an amazing young man who also loves jr hi kids, and I loaded up 10 teens and we introduced them to a weekend of serving and fun.

I loved getting to know the new folks there and spending time with these great teens. I loved watching the whole group work together on a big project:

They're remodeling the old dining hall into offices so our kids spent literally hours helping clean up the construction site. It took 10 of them to heave this old carpet onto the fire.

Then they served in the kitchen:

And had enough leftover time to enjoy the swing!

It was amazing to watch the transformation as the teens worked and played together. The girls are really excited about our own Big Girl/Little Girl and overnights and just getting together.

Have you ever experienced the feeling of satisfaction when you're doing what you know you were made to do? That's how I felt this weekend. I know it's a gift from God and I love watching Him at work in jr hi kids' lives.

God is good and I am truly blessed.

Traditions

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 03:52:00 +0000

Recently, I've been thinking about family traditions. When Kevin was a kid, he loved visits with his grandfather. He always knew that each day he was there, his grandfather would take him out for an ice cream cone. It was such a special time for Kevin that he delighted in continuing this tradition with his grandsons.

Russell and Randall spent the night last night. Jaime and Slade joined us to watch Monk and Psych. We kept the boys so they didn't have to be awakened. Kevin got up with the boys in the morning and took them out to breakfast. He's done it more than once and it's become his special tradition with the boys. I think Kevin may enjoy it even more than the boys!

So it made me think about traditions. I think they're important because they give a feeling of belonging and a sense of purpose and a continuity to our lives.

I remember making my own tradition as a kid. On Thanksgiving Day, I'd watch "Miracle on 34th Street" on TV. I watched it by myself but I loved it. It was one of the first videos I every bought so that I could share it with my family.

Some traditions lasted for so many years that it's become a part of our lives that we can't imagine otherwise. Christmas morning will always involve powder sugar donuts and a stocking to open. Some traditions were done only for a special occasion. I wrote a devotional book for each of the girls their senior year filled with stories of how God showed Himself to us through the years.

My grandmother gave me a light mint green blanket when I was born. My mother wrapped me in it when I came home from the hospital. I saved it and wrapped all my girls in that same blanket when they came home from the hospital. Then each of my girls wrapped their babies in it when they came home from the hospital. To be able to be wrapped in love from 3 generations past is a very special tradition.

For years the girls have posed like Charlie's Angels. And when they were little, they sometimes had matching outfits. A few years ago, they put those 2 traditions together for one of my favorite gifts - a picture of my girls and a reminder of years of tradition.

Family traditions counter alienation and confusion. They help us define who we are; they provide something steady, reliable and safe in a confusing world.

If you have traditions you enjoy, work to keep them alive and well. If you don't have any special traditions, establish your own, that will make the kind of memories that you will cherish when you look back on your life.

Traditions are good for your heart and your soul.

God? Yes, there is....No, there isn't

noreply@blogger.com (Ruth) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 13:47:00 +0000

Facebook is a great tool for reconnecting with old friends. I've been able to connect with family scattered all over the country and with classmates all the way back to junior high. It's been a joy getting to know folks again. I love hearing about their lives and where they are now.

Reconnecting brings surprises too. This person is married, that person is no longer married, this friend is living halfway around the world, etc, etc. Every once in a while you read something that totally throws you for a loop. That's what this post is about.

When Kevin went back to college, he was almost 30. We had 3 school age kids, but we really wanted to be involved at LeTourneau. For 3 years we were a part of most campus activities and got to know lots of other students. And it's been great to reconnect with them too.

One college alum posted something about his 'deconversion' that caught my eye. I don't think I'd ever heard that term before. This young man graduated with Kevin, then went on for further Biblical studies and then to the mission field in Africa. Since then, he's come to the conclusion that there is no God. He's even written a lengthy book about his story. I took a few days and read it. It was a lot to absorb.

This post isn't about him. That's his story and his journey. And it's not about trying to prove him right or wrong. It's simply about the things I've thought about since reading about his journey away from God.

I truly can't get my mind around not believing in God. For me, when I consider the universe and it's incredible vastness, I realize we are seemingly insignificant in the whole scheme of things. And knowing that makes it amazing that we are significant.

It's like the 'half empty, half full' perspective. From the 'half full' perspective, I believe that we are so precious to God that He created us to enjoy creation with Him. I tend to be simplistic.

I see the amazing changes in my life since accepting Christ at 24. I see the family we have that is so, so different from the ones that Kevin and I grew up in. I don't think I'm that smart or wise or good enough to have made those changes by myself.

A young man from our church recently told the teens something that has really stuck with me. He said, "God is so amazing that I can't understand how amazing He is. And that's ok because I wouldn't want to serve a god that I could understand."

In her book The Hiding Place, Corrie ten Boom tells of an event that took place when she was 10 or 12 years old as she traveled with her father on a train from Amsterdam to Haarlem. She had stumbled upon a poem that had the words "sex sin" among its lines:

And so, seated next to Father in the train compartment, I suddenly asked, "Father, what is sex sin? "He turned to look at me, as he always did when answering a question, but, to my surprise, he said nothing. At last he stood up, lifted his traveling case from the rack over our heads, and set it on the floor. "Will you carry it off the train, Corrie?" he asked. I stood up and tugged at it. It was crammed with watches and spare parts he had purchased that morning. "It's too heavy," I said. "Yes," he said. "And it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load. It's the same way, Corrie, with knowledge. Some knowledge is too heavy for children. When you are older and stronger, you can bear it. For now you must trust me to carry it for you." And I was satisfied. More than satisfied—wonderfully at peace. There were answers to this and all my hard questions; for now, I was content to leave them in my father's keeping.

God is mysterious not simply because he is God, but because we are children. And in his love our childhood is protected. We should view both childhood and God's mysteries as a source of wonder and even comfort; there is a creator and we are among the created. There are answers to all things safely in our father's keeping.

jesus manger [Flickr]

Ruthless102 — Sat, 20 Dec 2008 11:56:29 PST

Ruthless102 posted a photo: