Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I remember saying out loud, "I love my bed." We got home yesterday afternoon after a wonderful week with Marty and family. The trip was long, there was construction that delayed us in the mountains of North Carolina, our car was loaded with the usual stuff and all the extra things from my shopping excursions while there and it had to be unloaded and brought inside the house. Whew! I was a bit more tired than I wanted to admit! But, as a furniture dealer in a neighboring town says in his TV commercials, "It's worth the drive!" We had a memorable time, to say the least.

Late yesterday afternoon we went to eat supper with Liz and the grandchildren. Tommy and Jacob, the oldest, are at a middle school church conference all week. Liz cooked vegetables from the Farmers' Market and I now feel as if summer is officially here even if it doesn't begin until Friday. Sarah looked taller and pretty as ever. Drew had a ballgame, so we didn't get to see him but a few minutes. Meredith talked non-stop in her own language, but fortunately it's okay when you don't understand her to just nod and she's content to continue. Elisa smiled when she saw us like she was glad to see us and shared the new noises she has learned since we've been away. I can't wait to get Christopher in the midst of his cousins and watch them play together!
Being a grandmother definitely falls in the category of God's abundant blessings!

Sunday I had the privilege of baptizing Christopher. I cannot tell you just how special it is to hold your grandchild, a child of the covenant, and administer that sacrament. (I have baptized Drew, Meredith, Christopher and look forward to baptizing Elisa in a few weeks.) In the days prior to the baptism I was thinking, as I always do, about why we baptize infants, the significance of it and how to share those thoughts with the congregation. Not everyone understands the whys and whats of infant baptism and being an educator at heart, I sieze the teachable moment. Let me tell you how I understand whys and whats:

1. Jesus told His followers to go into the world, make disciples and baptize;

2. Scripture tells us that baptism in the early church was for entire families, not just believers and it was tied to God's covenant promise to Abraham.

3. Ours is a covenant theology, a faith that has its roots in the sovereignty of God and God's faithful promises to His people.

4. Children of believers are a part of the covenant promise God made to Abraham: "I will be your God; you will be my people." Infant baptism is the outward sign and seal of this covenant promise.

5. Baptism is not about what the individual does or does not do. It is about God and what God does. Even in believer's baptism, it is God who has initiated the salvation. God is the one who saves, who calls. God acts. We respond because of the irresistable pull of the Holy Spirit.

6. The child's parents, extended family and church family promise to teach the child who God is and the essentials of the Christian faith so that the child can know and understand a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ and make his/her own profession of faith and discipleship.

Often when I look at our grandchildren, especially the ones I've been privileged to baptize, I ponder #6 above. How am I carrying out the promise I have made? Will they remember me as a child of God? And last week, before Christopher's baptism, I centered on God's promise. #4 above is life itself! I realized that I can summarize my life within God's promise. I have trusted God's promise of salvation, I rely on God's faithfulness, I bask in the blessings of God's grace and I am sustained day by day by God's mercy and compassion. I am a child of the promise. To teach our children what that means is life's greatest responsibility and opportunity.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

We're in Raleigh--too busy to post--too laid back to move. That's contradictory, but that's how it is! The busy-ness is in playing with Christopher and, of course, he takes priority. The being laid back is in not really having anything we absolutely have to do. The trip over was pretty easy and not too tiring. I did my usual "getting lost around Raleigh" bit and had to call and say, "I know where I am, but how do I get to you?" You'd think after living in Sacramento I'd be ready for the big city, but apparently I'm not. I'm a small town gal at heart!

But, there are some things that are scarce in small towns and I usually arrive here with a list. This time I had an item from Tommy--lobster base--not something I'd buy, but whatever he cooks with it, I'll eat. (It's on my shopping list for today.) One other thing listed for today is a box of jumbo pasta shells--or maybe several boxes. It's rather tedious to stuff small ones and I love shrimp stuffed shells and another dish I make regularlly when I can find jumbo shells. Raleigh, actually Cary, has a Trader Joe's, a California tradition to be sure. We made that trip yesterday and I stocked up on the trail mix Tom loves, Joe's O's, my favorite granola and other good stuff.

I saved the best to last--finding quilted containers for stemware at a fraction of the original cost. After forty plus years of marriage and storing all the German crystal Tom bought when he was stationed in Munich in their original boxes, I decided to bite the bullet and store it in something that would keep it clean and ready to use at a moment's notice. Until now I'd have to find the right box, unwrap the crystal, wash and dry it, use it, wash and dry it, rewrap and put it back in the box--not exactly conducive to using it much. At check out, watching the register I noticed the clerk rang up $23 for what I thought was one container. When I questioned her, calling her attention to the $14.95 price tag, she said, "No, this is a special price. You're getting six containers for $23." Folks, that's a bargain in any size town!! I can use the savings to help fill the gas tank for the trip home.

Indulge me with one more shopping story. Last week Tom and I went to Germantown (east Memphis community) for me to attend a meeting. For me, going to Germantown involves a trip to the Penzey Spice store and while there I casually asked if they knew where I could buy sausage casings. Tommy makes sausage and thus far, he's had to make it into patties for lack of the availability of casings. The saleslady called a neighborhood Italian deli, put me on the phone and we ended up at the deli for lunch. The owner was really nice, interested in why I wanted the casings and graciously offered to give me what I wanted. In return, I'm to take him some of Tommy's andouille the next time I go to Germantown. The funny part was the casings were put into a sandwich size plastic bag, salted and handed to me, free of charge, with my promise to return with Tommy's sausage. I had to stop at a service station, purchase a cooler and a bag of ice to keep them fresh for the drive back to Jackson. Free casings traveled home in a $9 cooler with ice. The man and his deli made my day! I can't wait to go back.

I heard on the news that an area close to Sacramento is experiencing wild fires and the temperature for today is to reach 100. Know that you are in my prayers! And always in my heart!!!

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Realities fall into lots of categories; some are welcome; some are not; some bring untold joy; some bring tears and disappointment. Some realities are interesting and sort of comical. Take, for instance, the writing and reading of blogs. I took over this blog from my children who were doing a great job of keeping friends and family informed of some rather serious health problems we were having. It has been a way that I can stay in touch with lots of special people who care about us and I share thoughts that God lays on my heart. The reality that there are those who care is why I write, but the comical and disappointing reality is anyone with access to the internet can read what I write and some who could care less about us read our words for ulterior motives. It makes me feel like I felt at one point in my life when we caught a peeping Tom at our window.

The stomach bug has been a reality in Tommy and Liz's house lately and she is the latest victim. Fortunately, it may prove to be a 24 hr. bug for her, but today she felt really bad. She called us about 7:30 a.m. to see if we could keep Elisa. Silly question! Of course, we could and would. We knew we had missed her since school has been out, but were struck with the reality today of just how much! Someone sent an e-mail about mothers not long ago that included a statement that said something like: "Anyone who asks a mother if she can love the fifth child as much as she loved the first never had five children." It reminded me of Liz and how she has this unending love that she pours our on their children. As a grandmother I know that as the grandchildren keep coming, God keeps giving us additional capacity to love each one. That's a welcome reality.

An unwelcome and disappointing reality came today with the report of the blood work I had done yesterday. The CA125 is inching up again. It's only up a point since last month, but the three previous ones each showed fractional increases. Besides the reality being unwelcome and disappointing, there is something else. I have become a student of ovarian cancer and I know the signs, what they mean and the usual prognosis. Those things are too real! "But God," as the apostle Paul would say, is the reality in my life. I know He is a God of miracles, a God of mercy, grace and compassion. The realities of the blessings in our marriage and our lives as followers of Jesus are too numerous to name.

I have been reading The Last Lecture, the book written by Randy Pausch, Carnegie-Mellon professor given months to live with pancreatic cancer. It is not a Christian testimony, but a wonderful read for anyone living with chronic illness. He writes (talking to his wife when they are in Houston for a follow-up appointment): Whatever news we get about the scans, I'm not going to die when I hear it. I won't die the next day, or the day after that. So today, right now, well this is a wonderful day. And I want you to know how much I'm enjoying it.

Today is reality. It is what we have. We ask God for today's needs and God not only provides, but provides abundantly. This is the greatest reality of my life--it is welcome and it brings joy beyond measure.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Yesterday I heard what falls into the category of "skyscraper sermons." That's a sermon that contains story after story. Often there is not much more to the sermon than stories--lots of illustrations, not much content. The text was Matthew 6:25-34, part of the Sermon on the Mount and Jesus is exhorting his listeners not to worry and He calls their attention to the birds and how they are "arrayed" and the flowers of the field and their beauty. My mind went to the beautiful yellow flowers that came up in a bed planted by previous owners of our house and to the birds that frequent our back porch to eat the seed we put out for them. Both remind me of our Creator and His provisions, not only for them, but for us as well.

The sermon was entitled, "Don't Worry, Be Happy," the title of a song several years ago and not a title I would have chosen. Neither would I have chosen the direction the sermon took. In fact, I came away wishing the preacher had dug a little deeper. I wished he had talked about the difference in being happy and being joyful. I wanted him to talk about happiness being a product of external things and joy being a result of trusting God. I am not happy these days with the knowledge that Tom has Parkinson's or that I have cancer. But, I do have joy because I trust God for His provision and try to obey another teaching of Jesus: "Fear not." Apparently Tommy's thoughts were paralleling mine because he wrote me a couple of notes during the sermon and we talked afterwards. I said to him: "Here's the thing. We're here to worship God and the sermon isn't always on target. Mine certainly aren't. But, God's timing is perfect and I needed to be directed to that Scripture today."

Lately I've been consumed with thoughts of things I need to do to get all of our affairs in order--or all the things I think I need to do. Last week I read a novel by a favorite author and it was about a woman whose cancer returned with a venegance and she was dead within two days of finding out. It was a sobering read. Sometimes I forget the realities of the faithfulness of God and the sufficiency of God's grace.

Even a bad sermon can be used to remind us of God's truths. I need to be less critical and more open to learning from God's word.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

My computer has been idle for the last several days. We've been very busy and one entire day last week I had trouble with my wireless connection. Wouldn't you know it was the day I had planned to be online?

The end of the school year has affected this retired couple's activities though it's been years since we've had children in school. Now we get to follow what goes on with the grandchildren. Last Tuesday we attended an honors program for Jacob's school and swelled with pride when he received academic awards for one of the best grade averages in his homeroom and for making all A's this year. Tomorrow morning Drew graduates from kindergarten but we'll have to miss that because of a doctor's appointment.

Tommy and his family were in south Mississippi over the weekend to participate in the wedding of friends who had been in youth groups with whom he had worked--one in McComb and another in Laurel. We haven't gotten the full report yet, but the initial report is they had a great time seeing old friends.

We had friends from Iowa come for a short visit. They are both teachers now and were able to get away at the end of their school year and before the summer session begins. We met the Marlins when we lived in California and they moved from there to Iowa about six months after we came to Tennessee. It was fun seeing them, catching up on each other's news and trying to expose them to good ole' Southern hospitality and cooking. I won't have to eat again for days!

This week we look forward to celebrating both Tommy's birthday and Sarah's. His was last Friday and hers is this Saturday. Birthdays always make me wonder where all the years have gone and strive to be more intentional about savoring every day with all of our family. Someone once gave the advice not to put off til tomorrow what can be done today. When I see our grown children and watch their children growing up so quickly, I can only say "Amen and Amen."

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Last week the oncologist described my cancer as "smoldering." A quick look at the chairside dictionary defines smolder as 1) "burn with little smoke and no flame" or 2) "exist in latent or suppressed state." Either definition works with chronic cancer. It's there but not so apparent as to be symptomatic; it's hopefully dormant; and a "suppressed state" might indicate remission. I remember smoldering embers in a fireplace that might flare up with little or no provocation. I see red hot coals in the grill, smoldering and perfect for cooking. The definitions seem to be a bit more hopeful than memories of coals in the fireplace or the grill.

After each visit with the doctor there is a time for processing, both what has been said and what has not. All of us want guarantees: guarantees of cure; guarantees of long life; of happy times. You would think that by now I would have learned that doctors have no guarantees to give. Some can be rather blunt and give you the worse case scenario; others can be tight lipped, leaving you to draw your own conclusions. I've had both kinds and both provoke thoughts that smolder and flare when I should be sleeping.

Early in the week I talked with a friend and she told me of a mutual friend who is busy working on his "bucket list." He has been given just months to live and is trying to get certain things accomplished before he kicks the bucket. I suspect his list is full of things to do for others, places to go and people to see. It's time for me to take the smoldering thoughts and make my own "bucket list."

It's time for me to quit talking about identifying family "treasures" and get it done. Writing my story for my children and grandchildren needs to come sooner rather than later. Years ago when I had my first experience with cancer, a special friend told me not to worry about things. If something happened to me, she would hurry over to our house and straighten my closets. That's a real friend. While I suspect the offer still holds, my clutter has gotten worse and shouldn't be offered to my worst enemy, let alone a special friend. I must attack the closets and the boxes I've put aside to explore some time in the future. Most importantly, I need to get things in place for Tom's care.

Other smoldering thoughts concern a project the parish associate at our church asked me to consider: writing devotional booklets for Advent and Lent. So, in the last week or so, I've been reading the lectionary scriptures for Advent. They reveal the condition of Israel, their need and the hope the promise of the Messiah brought. The Israelites anticipated the first coming of Christ; we anticipate His second coming. In the meantime we celebrate the arrival of the Prince of Peace, Immanuel and have peace in our lives because God is truly with us. Because of God's Promise and His promises we have guarantees.

It's interesting how smoldering thoughts, like smoldering coals merge together.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Today has been a stormy day! In fact, the storms just keep coming. The weather map on TV looks more like a multi colored quilt or Joseph's coat than it does a map. There have been numerous watches and warnings, both in our area and in the part of Mississippi where we went for my doctor's appointment today. Fortunately, we got home and in the house before the worst of it here. We'll have to spend some time in the next few days cleaning up storm debris in our back yard. Many in eastern Arkansas have nothing left but debris. We are grateful to be safe.

We hear a lot about the "storms of life." Periods of life are compared to storms--times of sunshine and joy; strong winds of crisis that threaten to destroy us or those we love; calms winds that bring peace. I've always loved to see the vibrant green of the grass and leaves following storms or heavy rains. I like what follows the storm, not the experience itself. I'm sitting here now with the constant chatter of the weather people and the rain hitting on the window next to my chair. Just when we think we're out of one warning or watch, here comes another.

Think about how that parallels life. Different areas of the world, different climates produce different types of storms. Before we lived in California we had a hard time understanding why anyone would live in an earthquake prone area. Friends in California couldn't understand why we would live in "tornado alley." Something you consider a storm in your life isn't necessarily like the storms in our life. Some have to deal with broken relationships, drugs or other addictions, estranged family members; we deal with disease. A diagnosis might bring a strong wind of crisis; successful treatment mimics the calm winds of peace, but sunshine and joy can be present in the midst of the crisis and the peace.

The scans I had on Wednesday still show the presence of disease, but it is not progressing--just "smoldering," as the doctor put it. Medically, there are two things in my favor: the CA125 is a good indicator of disease in my case; and my cancer is sensitive to a particular chemo drug. We were praying for complete remission, but are not discouraged with what we heard. I will always have hope because I know an amazing God. Tomorrow the yard will be alive with that vibrant green. I will feel safe and confident knowing the storm has past. That's the way of the cancer. Tonight I think about all the possibilities, all the "what ifs," wonder a bit about the future of our family, but when morning comes I'll see the vibrant green of life and be grateful that I am safe.

The storm of Parkinson's is another matter. A Memphis TV station carried news of the tornadoes that ripped through eastern Arkansas. One family lived in a large doublewide with several bedrooms and three baths. After the storm passed, nothing was left. The reporter emphasized that no bathroom fixtures could be found. They, along with everything else, were completely blown away. Parkinson's does that to the people it attacks, maybe not as quickly as a tornado, but every bit as devastating.

When Tom was in Vietnam I began every morning with the words of Lamentations 3:22-23. "It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed. They are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness." Good words to remember in the storms that surround and threaten to undo us!

Tom and I returned late yesterday afternoon from a wonderful week in St. Louis where I attended a day and a half of Executive Committee meetings and he and I both were part of the annual conference for POAMN (Presbyterian Older Adult Ministries Network). It is an organization with which I have been associated for twenty years, both as active member, two separate terms on the nominating committee, three years as secretary and six as president. My term ended this week and my response is bittersweet. It's time for me to concentrate more energy toward at home responsibilities, but I will miss the hands on involvement. POAMN has benefitted and blessed me in so many ways. It taught me older adult ministry; my circle of colleagues in ministry expanded and gave me opportunities to learn from the ministries of others; it gave me a platform to speak for both the gifts and the needs of older adults; and working with people with different theological perspectives who serve the same Lord and love the same older adults was a broadening experience. Some of my closest, dearest friends are those I have met through POAMN. This past week gave me an opportunity to re-connect with some of them--indeed, the highlight of the week!

St. Louis was beautiful, Spring being a little behind ours here. When we left, the dogwood in our front yard was beginning to fade slightly, but the week away saw those remaining blossoms drop and be replaced by a full dress of green. Redbuds were blooming everywhere we looked, both in St. Louis and along I-55. They were particularly pretty interspersed with dogwood in the woods. From the restaurant where we ate dinner one night of the conference we could look down on a park by the river and see them as well. The restaurant was a revolving one atop a downtown hotel and we had a ringside seat for the sunset, traffic on the river, Busch Stadium (the Cardinals were away) and the Arch. I was born and raised by the mighty Mississippi and I never tire of watching it. It is a return to my roots or to use river terminology, my headwaters.

The conference was one of the best we've had. For me, it seemed strange hearing ideas for ministry, knowing that I am no longer in active ministry in the church. The conference theme, "Leaving a Living Legacy," was carried out in the sharing time, keynote addresses, worship and seminars, all of which gave me help for this stage in our lives. What values would I like to leave my children and grandchildren? How do I want to be remembered? How can I take what I learned about dealing with someone with memory loss and help that person leave his life story?
We have lots to think about.

Upon arriving in town we went straight to Tommy's to see the grandchildren and were greeted with hugs, reports of their week and a big smile from Elisa. Today the four oldest have come to play for a while at our house--lots of activity!!! It was good to go, but good to come home.

This next week I have scans, bloodwork and a visit with the doctor. You know the prayer request--no cancer. Everything else is back to normal. Take time tomorrow to worship with others. God will be glorified and you will be blessed.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Something new is wrong with Tom or maybe it's just the same old disease gnawing away at him. The "bad days" seem to come more frequently. The periods of weakness and nervousness visit on a regular basis. He needs more than the occasional help to do "adl's," otherwise known as activities of daily living. I continue to be the one who thinks if you know why a person does or says a particular thing, then you can work with them, help solve the problem. That frame of mind doesn't work with Parkinson's. Parkinson's devastates; it robs a person of functionality, whether it be physical, mental or both. It is difficult for the patient and for their loved ones.

Recently our daughter wrote of the difficulty in talking with her dad on the phone. He doesn't talk on the phone often, but when he does his voice is different; he doesn't sound like the strong person she's always known. She misses his strength; she misses him. Her honesty has made me admit and verbalize the things I miss about Tom. I, too, miss his strength, his control. The steadfastness, loyalty and love that is so much a part of him does not waver in his mind. Only now, he cannot take charge and care for those he loves as he would like to do. He can only think about what he would do if he could. We both know that we have one constant in our lives: the faithfulness of God. I cling to that, but I still cry.

Some of the things we had hoped to do together will never happen: the trip to Scotland, visiting the Bavarian Alps and Munich where he was stationed in the Army, returning to the Colorado Rockies and the Tetons in Wyoming, repeating our float trip on the Middle Fork of the Salmon in Idaho. Instead of planning new trips, we enjoy remembering the places we've been and the experiences we've shared. Instead of packing our bags, we sit back and enjoy the Travel Channel. It's a lot cheaper and takes us places we would not have gone otherwise. We appreciate the wonder of creation around us.

Joy arrives with Elisa at 7:30 a.m. on school days. She comes in with a huge smile and keeps us smiling all day long. I will proclaim loud and long that absolutely no one ever loved or loves their children like I love our two, but I've discovered a difference in caring for them and for a grandchild. When my own children were babies, I had so many responsibilities in addition to caring for them that there didn't seem to ever be enough time to just enjoy them. Enjoying Elisa is a big part of every day she is here. Her parents think we're helping them by keeping her. Don't tell, but her presence in our daily lives gives us renewed purpose. It is she, who helps us. Tom can get up feeling bad, but responds when Elisa smiles and coos at him.

This is not retirement as we had planned. It is not the place we dreamed of spending our sunset years. In so many ways this is better. There is more good than bad. We have time to be still and be thankful, to reflect on the many ways we have been blessed. We have time to be involved in the lives of our grandchildren, both those around the corner and those miles away.

I covet your prayers for patience and discernment.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

This is one of those gorgeous Spring Saturdays when the list in my head has far too many things on it! Just looking out the window makes me want to dig in the dirt and plant things. Then I catch sight of sticks and pieces of limbs that fell in the last storm, I notice the nandina still bent over from the snow six weeks ago, I see dead bushes that need to go and my urge to dig subsides a bit. There is so much clean up and soil preparation that needs to be done first. Tommy and Drew came by yesterday to change the light bulbs on the front porch and Tommy asked if I knew I had dead plants on the porch. I admitted that I knew and that they'd been dead since before Christmas. At first I tried to hide the pots behind the columns and then I noticed how symetrical in shape and color they were so I left them, thinking that from the street it really didn't matter they were dead. After all, the ones on a porch across the street are plastic and faded from the sun. Today might be the day to put fresh plants on the porch. I have to start somewhere.

Speaking of Drew--he has a new hard cast. His first choice of color was camouflage, but the clinic didn't have it so he decided on red--bright and autographs easlily. When he showed it to us, he said, "I can run now." At chuch supper on Wednesday night someone's prayer request was that Drew not run and drive his mother crazy. I think Liz has gone to sleep at night saying, "Drew, don't run." He only has one speed! He has demonstrated the strength and protection of the cast by ramming both his opposite fist and his head into it. The cast won. I repeat. "Boys will be boys."

I'm preaching tomorrow and was delighted to discover that one of the lectionary texts is Psalm 23. That meant I could use notes and an outline from an earlier sermon, not because I didn't want to start from scratch, but because it's one of my favorite texts. I hear the voices of two preaching mentors, one saying not to go too often to your file of what you've preached previously and the other saying not to be too eager to preach on the most familiar Scripture passages--Psalm 23 and John 3:16. However, I don't think either of them would be critical of my preaching this text again and again as the occasion presents itself. After all, can we ever know the Shepherd completely? I'm looking forward to another opportunity to share what Psalm 23 continues to teach me about our amazing Lord.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Boys will be boys! I've heard that all my life and hearing it usually brings to mind certain images. I think of boys with baseball gloves and bicycles; of boys stomping through the mud puddles, splashing anyone nearby; of boys teasing little girls up to the point they realize girls aren't so bad after all. No matter what I can imagine, I would never have come up with the event that came about at Tommy's on Friday evening. Drew made up a fun game to play inside with big sister Sarah participating and little Mer watching. He put Jake's skateboard in line first and stacked throw pillows on the other side. The object was to run, jump over the skateboard and land on the pillows. Sarah did it perfectly. Drew didn't know his own speed or jumping ability and he cleared both the skateboard and the pillows, landing with his arm out to break his fall. His arm was described as a "W" by his dad and as a "noodle" by his mom. After several hours at the hospital, he got home with a splint and a prize or two for being a good patient. Later this week he'll have a cast put on it. He's been looking forward to baseball this spring so let's hope his arm heals quickly.

One thing a person knows when he/she puts his/her thoughts in writing is you leave yourself wide open for criticism, disagreements etc. A few posts back I commented on unfriendly actions of people and what I said was completely taken out of context and misunderstood. The result was a scathing, annonymous comment on the post and another from a friend who has recently gone to a new church herself. The first jumped on me with both feet saying that possibly I am the one who needs to extend myself and that it sounded like I was just looking for a reason to go to another church. Obviously, this person doesn't know me or he/she would know I am not a quitter. I was merely making a statement of the way things are everywhere and how we all need to be aware of who and whose we are. Since I am in the church as a regular attender, not a pastor or a minister, my place is a bit different. The second comment was about how extremely welcoming her new place of worship is and particularly I was struck by her saying that she wasn't told where something was, she was taken and shown. I revisit the issue for a couple of reasons. I know from experience that we can form such close ties with people in our circle of friends at the church--or other places--and we are so glad to see them that we unconsciously ignore new people. As a pastor I've been on the listening end when people have shared how hard they have tried to be included and they ended up being hurt. I wish you all could know a wonderful octogenarian couple, Helen and Pat. Sunday after Sunday I watched them go out of their way to talk to any and all newcomers they saw--no matter what their age, how they looked etc. Then, they would come tell me about the newcomers or get someone else to meet them. We need lots of Helens and Pats in the church! Again, I say, "Practice hospitality."

That same night in question the Bible study leader made a statement that continues to give me pause for thought. In his teaching on Mary washing the feet of Jesus with perfume and Judas criticizing her extravagance, he said something like: "Mary was a servant. Judas was interested in serving." What, I wonder, is the difference? To be a servant is to take on a role; it is to be identified with the master. To be a servant is to make a commitment to the master. Anyone can serve. I can serve you food because it's my job; I can help you across the street because I'll get brownie points, but the commitment involved can be slim to none. To be a servant of Christ identifies me with the Master and prompts me to serve Him, not a common cause or ideal. What do you think? Is this nitpicking with words? Maybe so, but if there truly is a difference, I'll be a servant.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

The wrens are back. Last week I tried to look inside the house for any signs of life and Tom scolded me. My scent might frighten the birds away for good, so I've tried to be patient and wait for their return. Patience and waiting paid off! Yesterday there was a wren on the porch with a small object in its mouth--don't know whether it was nest material or a bug, but the bird went into the house. There is promise of a new family and when they're all settled it will be fun to introduce the grandchildren to them.

The headline in the local paper this morning proclaimed what we all hoped: "The Drought is Over." At least it's over in West Tennessee. Right after I posted on Sunday I noticed black birds in the back yard, bathing and splashing in rainwater running across the yard and driveway. I had called the day dismal; they didn't act as if they agreed.

One thing on the "to do" list for today is to write a couple of paragraphs for information to be distributed at the annual Presbyterian Older Adult Ministries Network (POAMN) Conference to be held later this month. I've been mulling over what I might say on the theme, Leaving a Living Legacy. Keynote addresses and seminars will have the theme as their focus. What could I possibly add? As usual, the mulling and the writing are of more benefit to me than to those who might read my words. The dictionary I keep by my chair defines "legacy" as "personal property, money etc. bequeathed by a will; or anything received or passed on by an ancestor, predecessor or earlier era." What legacy will we leave? What do we consider valuable? Some things won't be passed on until we have passed. Those are the tangible, material things. The intangible, most valuable things are passed daily, moment by moment. We own things that came from our families, things that have come from genertations before us. They are precious; they are tangible. The most valuable, the most precious legacy passed to us is made up of values, Biblical teachings and insights, memories of those gone before us and the love they shared. That's the legacy I want to leave. As I watch Elisa sleeping in front of me, picture Christopher in his mother's arms and think of the others and what they are doing in school right now, I marvel at the special privilege we have to invest our lives in the lives of others--especially our families and those we hold dear.

Blessings ,
Pastor Margaret

Today is what might be described as a dismal day. It has rained off and on all weekend, mostly at the most inopportune times. The temperature is supposed to reach the upper sixties, but I doubt if does. Tom doesn't feel too perky, the skies look gloomy and we're staying home this afternoon. We'll settle in by the gas logs and watch a little more basketball. I did go teach a Sunday School class this morning, but didn't stay for worship. On the way home I reflected on a brief conversation I had with someone and the weather.

We are such strange people--sometimes fickle, sometimes ungrateful. I am. Across the South we have been experiencing a drought, some areas worse than others. West Tennessee has not suffered as much as the Raleigh or Atlanta areas, but it has been extremely dry here. So dry, in fact, that butterbeans were scarce as hens' teeth at the farmers' market. We have needed rain! We have prayed for rain and now that we are getting it in abundance, we complain. It's as if we are saying: "Lord, please send rain, but send it when it's most convenient for us."

We ask God to show us what He wants us to do, to send us where we are to go. With much conviction, we profess to only want to be obedient to God's call. "Here I am, Lord. Send me." Then God does just that. We are sent, we accept a responsibility and sometimes become discouraged because things are hard or unpleasant. I know. This has been my story more than once. I prayed for direction, telling God that I would be obedient and I was led across the country, away from family, friends, out of my comfort zone. At first, I reminded God how obedient and open I had been to His call and suggested that I might be rewarded by a new call--one that would return us to family, friends and the familiar. When my immaturity and ungratefulness hit me, my prayers changed. The obedience brought more blessings than I could ever count. But, just when I was settled into the call, loving every minute of it and all the people involved, a new call came. It was a call into the unknown--no job, no visible ministry, no regular teaching or preaching, no visiting the sick, no hours of pastoral care. It has taken a while to quit questioning and to completely accept the ministry of "in sickness and in health" and being an up close and personal grandparent. These two experiences have affirmed a few things I've heard from those far wiser and far more experienced than I will ever be. 1) Don't ask God for something if you don't want an answer. 2) Know that the answer may not be what you want to hear. 3) Don't expect that being obedient produces hardships, but be prepared when it does. 4) Remember that God is a gracious God who "goes before you in triumphant procession." 5) Quit complaining to others and let God be in charge of your life and your situation.

When I complain, I'm denying the sovereignty of God in my life and in the world. I am implying that I know best and I know that's not so. My prayer is that God will teach me to replace my complaints with words of thanksgiving and praise.

Blessings,

The whole Easter weekend was wonderful! I hope it was for you as well. Liz and the children came home Thursday night and each child seemed to have grown several inches in the few days they had been gone. Jake had learned a new song on his guitar--not just chords; all of "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee." Sarah was excited to have a friend visiting from Kansas spend the night. Drew had a new guitar that played its own tune. Meredith ran from her room to the den and back again, happy to see her toys--and her daddy. Elisa smiled and we all smiled right back at her. We had stopped just to say hello after going to the Maundy Thursday service. Have I told you how good it is to be so close? Perfection would be being just as close to Marty and her family!

The Maundy Thursday service was simple: Scripture, hymns, choir selections. But it was a service of darkness and as candles were extinguished during the service, the lights in the sanctuary were dimmed until at the end only soft lights reflected on the organ pipes. The cross and the communion table were draped in black and the organ played "Were You There?" I have never particularly cared for that song, but sitting there in the darkness, listening to the plaintive melody, the question was penetrating and deeply personal. Yes, I was there. It is for me He died.

Friday was spent crossing all the "t's" and dotting all the "i's" on our income tax papers. Wouldn't you know there would be one document missing? So, instead of hunting Easter eggs, we've been hunting that all important document. I finally discovered it this morning. Tom has not lost his sense of detail and has spent a great deal of time working on files, putting things in order. He just has trouble remembering where he puts the files. Thankfully, forty plus years of togetherness help us know, at least partially, how the other one thinks.

Saturday was bright and sunny, a perfect day for being outside--except for the surprising cold air that moved in late in the afternoon. It came about the time the children got here on their scooters to play in the yard while their dad cooked pork for Sunday dinner and hamburgers for supper on the grill. (I challenge you to diagram that sentence.) Sunday services were crowded as they usually are on Easter. We ended up sitting in the balcony and even then couldn't fit the whole family on one pew.

As I sat in church I thought of Easters past. I remembered having real bunnies in our baskets when I was a pre-schooler. There were thoughts of brand new white shoes, not broken in, pinching my feet. (Of course, you had to be mindful of the rule: never white before Easter or after Labor Day.) I remembered sunrise services in the cemetary when I was a teenager. I visualized two particular crosses at Fair Oaks: one about a foot tall and made completely of nails on a table in the narthex and the other, the most beautiful I have ever seen. During Lent it stands in the front of the sanctuary, stark, a vivid reminder of its cruel punishment. It's draped on Maundy Thursday, but on Easter Sunday it is alive, covered with magnolia leaves and fresh calla lilies. Not only is it a sight to behold, the symbolism is powerful.

During the sermon I also thought of a minister commenting about the difficulty of preparing a fresh Easter sermon year after year. I wondered if our minister here would make the same comment. As he preached an image of a flower bud came to me. When we first hear the Easter message our minds/hearts are much like a bud, but as we hear the message over and over our minds open, grasp its meaning more and more. It is a message that never grows old and its meaning grows with us as we grow spiritually. The bud in my mind continues to open with understanding and I'm grateful for all of those who have nurtured it with the Easter message year after year. One day it will be fully open when I see the risen Lord face to face.

Mary was at the tomb that first Easter and mourned because she thought the body of Jesus had been stolen. Imagine her surprise when she heard His voice speaking to her! Imagine her saying, "I have seen the Lord!" She could not keep it to herself and she ran to tell others. May we all take a lesson from Mary! Does it make a difference that we have seen Him too? If so, run and tell others.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

The silence is deafening in our house. The bouncy seat is still. There are no bottles by the sink. Elisa, her mom and her brothers and sisters are visiting Liz's parents this week and it's too quiet! We have loved having Tommy for supper since they've been gone, but the fun is not complete without the rest of his family. When I asked him earlier in the week when they were coming home, he said, "Not soon enough." My sentiments exactly!

It's Holy Week and we're about to remember the darkest day in the Church and then celebrate the most joyous day--the day of resurrection. I am reminded of Tony Campolo telling of a "preaching competition" he had with a seasoned African American minister. Campolo gave his sermon his all, felt really good about his message and sat down, thinking he had that competition in the bag. Then the other minister stood and preached a five word message: "It's Friday, but Sunday's coming." He began slowly and quietly and over and over he preached those words, getting louder and louder until he finished with all the thunder and emotion he could muster: "IT'S FRIDAY, BUT SUNDAY'S COMING." Therein lies our hope.

It's March Madness--basketball, basketball, basketball. Our Mississippi State Bulldogs have done well this year and are playing Friday night in the NCAA Tournament. You can be sure we'll be watching. We were tuned in last Friday watching them in the SEC Tournament when, at the end of an exciting game and in over time, a tornado hit the side of the arena where they were playing. That's surely a game no State fan will forget. Six SEC teams are in the "Big Dance," as TV folks like to call it so we'll have lots of games to watch. At least two other SEC teams are playing in the NIT so we'll be watching them too. Jackson has hosted the NAIA Women's Basketball Tournament for nineteen years and it, too, is being played this week. Not only is it a boost to the economy, but local folks get involved with hosting and sponsoring visiting teams and take advantage of watching some good basketball at the downtown arena. We're going with a group from our church tomorrow. I wonder if there is such a thing as basketball overload.

We have some new guests--at least I think they are still here. Yesterday at breakfast I was watching our bird friends eating from the containers on our back porch. I noticed a small bird with a twig in its mouth, sitting on the hummingbird feeder looking around. Then it darted into the beautiful, hand painted gourd hanging on the porch for a decoration. It really is a birdhouse, but I bought it because a special lady made it and for its artistic value. The little bird, a wren, was joined by a second wren and I watched them dart in and out with leaves and twigs in their beaks all morning. My initial thought was, "No, not in my birdhouse." My second thought was a question: "Why not my birdhouse?" After all, it is a birdhouse and hanging it suggested to the wrens that they were welcome in it. Why would I say by my action, "Come on in" and then be a bit concerned that they actually did? There's bound to be a sermon illustration in that. I haven't seen the wrens today. I hope they are taking cover from the thunderstorms and not feeling unwelcome.

These things and income tax are on my mind.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Some things never change. Have you noticed? For us earthlings and matters that surround us, that's not always a good thing. For God, it's a good thing. I take great comfort in knowing that none of the attributes, none of the characteristics of God ever change. You might say that because of the unchanging love, mercy, grace, wisdom, compassion and faithfulness of God I CAN change--change my attitudes and behavior; change my priorities and become more the person God created me to be. That's been on my mind a lot in the last several months. As an individual, a child of God, there is always room for change. As a body of believers, the Church (big and little "c"), there is always room for change, no matter what our denomination.

We've been trying to get back to Wednesday night supper and program at the church now that it's getting warmer. We have missed so many worship services and other things that people had begun to notice and wonder if we were all right. It is nice to be missed, but here's the funny thing and I have watched it happen in most churches. People will express "how glad they are to see you," but not really include you. While we were eating Wednesday night I told Tom that I didn't think I'd go to supper any more and he was surprised. I said, "Well, we don't come because of the food; we come for the fellowship and we could visit with one another a lot better sitting at our table, eating our food." Most nights at the church we eat at one of the tables for eight by ourselves--we aren't part of any of the groups at the other tables. I watched that happen to newcomers to the older adult lunch group in the last church where I served and never stopped trying to preach, "practice hospitality." What does unfriendliness, what does being exclusive say about our faith? Is this a place where a need for change is indicated?

During Lent the minister, the parish associate and the educator (our son) have taught a series based on Bible passages we might not ordinarily associate with Lent. Wednesday Tommy taught on the story of the lame man who was brought to Jesus by four friends and Mary washing Jesus's feet with perfume. In the first passage we talked about repentance and relationships and about Mary's unwavering love for Jesus in the second. Some of Tommy's teaching started me to think. If you notice in Mark 2, when the friends lower the man through the roof and Jesus sees them, He says "Your sins are forgiven." That's not really what they expected--they came for healing for their friend. And, it's because of their faith that the sins are forgiven. Usually, when we teach this passage, we point to Jesus's authority and ability to forgive sins because of who He is, but I've been thinking about the faith of the friends and the relationship between them and the lame man. The relationship was such that they shared their faith; they wanted so much for the man to have an encounter with Jesus that they were willing to go to great lengths to make in happen.

Mary, on the other hand, is all about Jesus. He is her focus and she is criticized for the expense to which she went to express her love for Him.

How do these passages and our experience at supper relate to one another? And where does change fit into the picture? I think we start with Mary and her focus. We need to not just say that we love Jesus. We need to live like we do, no matter what the cost. When we focus on Jesus, that attitude which was in Him will change our attitude to be the same as His. Then, we need to care about people. Know that we are the face of the Church. Hospitality is about receiving and caring about others. It's about sharing what we have--the best of what we have. If you come to my house for dinner, I'm going to go out of my way to see that you are comfortable and well fed. Why, then, would I not want to share Jesus, "the best that I have?"

Friends, change needs to take place in all of us and in all of our churches. We need to be like Mary and focus on the Lord of the Church and we need to be like the friends and share Jesus. A change in us can bring about a change in our world.

Thanks for reading and letting me speak my piece. If you care about change and want some practical, prayerful help, read Evelyn Christiansen's, Lord, Change Me. It's a good place to start.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Same song, second verse. This is my second try of the day to publish. The first got lost.

Meet Elisa, the sweet little one we keep on school days. The picture was taken about a month ago and she is smiling at her Paw Paw, something she does quite a lot. She looks much like her dad did at this age--now too, for that matter. In a couple of weeks she'll make her first trip to "the lake" with her other brothers and sisters to see her Mimi and Pop. They will be thrilled with her smiles too!

The weather man finally got it right with the prediction of frozen precipitation. It started snowing here yesterday about 2 p.m. and continued way past dark. It was beautiful coming down, "luminous with the moon shining on it" (Jacob's descriptive words), and beautiful when we awoke. By noon much of the backyard had melted. Leaves on the magnolia in our yard and others on our street made good surfaces for holding the snow; our dogwood looked as if it was blooming early with white tulip shaped blossoms; the nandina outside our back windows are bent double to the ground. Usually, with the slightest breeze their movement causes one of the lights on the corner of the house to come on, but they can't with their tops bowed to the ground. The three oldest grands came down to inspect our snow after they had played some at their house. They had a brief snowball fight, but spent most of their time inside snacking. They said they would be back, but I suspect after their mom gets them inside and dry, their plans will change. Snow is pretty, but it does make a mess and create more laundry.

The snow brings back memories of the first Christmas Tommy and Liz lived here. A few days before Christmas they were greeted with both snow and ice. We flew in from California and were stranded overnight in the Memphis airport. The next morning we rented a car, drove the eighty miles in three hours and literally slid into the driveway. Later that afternoon Tom was playing outside with the children and when Sarah's cardboard box sled got away from her, he went running to her rescue, but fell and cracked ribs on the curb. We spent some time in the ER Christmas Eve night. But, not as long as Linda, Liz's mom, spent there on Christmas day. They had arrived while Tom and I were seeing about him and the next morning we had a good time opening gifts and having a late breakfast. Linda and Frank returned to the hotel to rest a bit before dinner, she fell on the steps, broke her tailbone and off they went to the ER. They were there for hours. Not wanting them to miss dinner, Liz fixed their plates on the Christmas china and delivered it to the hospital. We chuckle a little bit when we talk about that Christmas, but it wasn't fun then.

We went to Corinth yesterday for my monthly visit with the doctor and for a treatment. The church friend who drove us spent most of her working life in Philadelphia and in the DC area so she wasn't threatened in the least by impending bad weather. All around us school districts were either closed or were letting out early. That didn't deter us and we were home before the snow started. The doctor was out with the flu the last time I went so we didn't get the official scan report from February until yesterday. They are improved since ones taken in November, 07, and the CA125 continues to drop--not a perfect report, but not bad. I will have the sixth and final treatment of this series the first Friday in April, wait three weeks to repeat the scans and he will re-evaluate where we are.

I was lying in bed this morning allowing my mind to wander and I realized I had not named this cancer. (I have a quirk about giving things names.) The breast cancer was called "Molly the Mass" and the first bout with ovarian cancer was dubbed "Tillie the Tumor," but these last two occurences are hard to name because there is no mass, nor tumor. I thought about "Ollie" for ovarian, but promptly dismissed that because one of the dearest people I know is called Ollie. Then "Pesky" came to me. I thought: this is like some people I know that corner you when you need to be somewhere or some that annoy you and you try to avoid them. A particular type comes to mind. Maybe you know the type; maybe not. Maybe I should be ashamed and duck my head into my clerical collar, but I don't own one. I have known some people I describe as "space invaders." They stand a little too close when they talk to you, they talk on and on and all the while I'm standing there smiling, nodding, trying to gracefully excuse myself. What a thought! This cancer fits the description. It has invaded my space and I'm doing whatever is medically possible to avoid it. Since it is chronic, it wants to go on and on while all the while I'm still smiling, nodding with hope and praying for a miracle. Though it is "pesky" and that name fits, "space invader" has a better ring to it. From now on this cancer will unaffectionately be known as "Space Invader."

That's it for now. I wanted you to see Elisa, hear of our snow and the doctor's report. I surely do hope the post publishes this time. I'm not sure I can write it a third time. Have a wonderful, blessed weekend. Worship Almighty God wherever you are and you will, most assuredly, be blessed.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Tom had his last speech therapy appointment yesterday and I can honestly say the time has been well spent. Parkinson's can affect one's speech in a couple of obvious ways: diminished volume and slurring of words. Tom thought he was speaking loud enough to be heard and he didn't realize he hurried some words and parts of sentences which caused the slurring. I was struggling at times to hear him and to understand the words I did hear. He interpreted things differently. The problems I identified could and have been helped. He speaks more slowly and clearly, listens to himself and self corrects when he realizes he has been hurrying. Unfortunately, the problem he recognized is just one more Parkinson's problem which has no resolution. The once articulate man who thought well on his feet, the person who was comfortable in front of people, whether it was in a courtroom, a pulpit or a group of friends now hesitates to find the right words. You can see him thinking, trying to remember what he wanted to say and how to say it.

Yesterday the therapist asked Tom to tell him about some of his most interesting trials. I knew before he started what the first one would be. I was right. He told about one of his earliest cases that involved a woman who said she found a fly in her beer can. I enjoyed hearing him tell about it though he didn't tell it with as much detail and fervor as he once did. Ask him what some legal term means or about a specific legal process and he explains either so that most of the time even I can understand. It's ordinary conversation that's the most problematic. How the brain works is such a mystery! How Parkinson's affects different aspects of the brain in different people is a mystery!

Elisa news of the week is she started eating a little cereal yesterday. It wasn't much and she let me know when she'd had enough--just clamped her little lips together and gave me one of those "no more" looks. She's one who understands Tom, her Paw Paw, quite well! Her eyes follow him when he comes into the room, she smiles at the sound of his voice, no matter the volume, and she grins really big when he says in a sing-song voice, "Elisa Leigh, Elisa Leigh, this is Paw Paw talking to you." Aren't children wonderful? They understand love and return it many times over.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Happy Birthday, Aunt May! Today she celebrated her 90th birthday with a family dinner at her daughter's house. At her request, there was no big party or acknowledgement of the day. That's typical of her--keep everything simple and don't make a fuss.

Ninety years--sounds like a lot and it is, but Aunt May is ninety years young, not old. Yes, she has slowed down, has some trouble getting around, doesn't drive at night and doesn't cook much, but her spirit is young and she keeps her mind active and vital with reading, crossword puzzles and more recently with computer solitaire. I have never seen anyone work as hard as she did, keeping house for my uncle and their four children (plus me); working alongside her husband on the farm; working in the church teaching, cleaning, cooking; catering, running a restaurant. When her parents were sick, she helped care for them. When her husband grew old before his time with a debilitating illness, she faithfully and tirelessly cared for him. Times were not always easy, but I never heard her complain, never saw her give into aches and pains. What a lady! Oh, to be like her!!

The four most influential women in my life were my mother, my college piano teacher, my mother-in-law and Aunt May--especially Aunt May. Often we learn best by being in the presence of someone who has a lot to give. When I lived with her I was too young to care about cooking or sewing or keeping house. But when I grew up and began doing those things for my own husband and family I remembered the ways she did things. I remembered her strength coupled with her gentleness, her sensitivity along side her sense of humor. She has shared her wisdom and advice and her love of life--those things never grow old and neither will she!

I missed the celebration, but I thought about her just the same and I heard her laughter.

Happy Birtday Aunt May. You are the greatest!

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

At exactly 1:11 p.m. on Thursday, February 28, Elisa turned over from her back to her tummy. Once there, she wasn't sure what to do with the arm she was crushing underneath her. We were both watching and cheered as if it were some major accomplishment. It was! She is our granddaughter and we saw it first--just one of those bonuses that comes with being a grandparent!

I don't remember exactly when either of our two children turned over for the first time. I was too busy with life, with taking care of them, trying to run a household and supplement our income by teaching piano. I was too busy to celebrate the important things--or so I thought. Keeping Elisa and talking to Marty about Christopher reminds me of the early months of our children's lives. The memories are both sweet and bittersweet. The love I felt then for our children has grown and grown and grown. But I remember being so busy that I didn't savor every moment with them. With Elisa, it's different. Everything else in our lives takes second place to her. We are present for one another. That's what I hear when I talk to Marty. Everything takes second place to her care of Christopher at this time in his life. She gets it!

Tom and I love being grandparents. It's another of God's gifts to us and we know it. We love our children and the spouses God has given them. They, too, are gifts! We are fortunate, indeed.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

No matter their ages, our children are full of surprises! I just happened to pull up my blog spot last night and saw the pictures of Christopher with two of his grandparents and his dad. Imagine my surprise! What Marty didn't tell you is that in the two of Tom and me holding Christopher he is just 12 hours old. We had recently arrived at the hospital after our day and a half trip to Raleigh and were so excited to see and hold him for the first time.

One of Marty's dogs loves to snoop in my stuff and chew what she finds. The first day we were there she discovered the cable that attached from my camera to the computer and chewed it into two or three pieces. Marty and Kevin replaced it with a card reader--far better than the cable that got destroyed. She assures me that I can insert pictures into my e-mails and blogs, but I haven't been brave enough to try yet. I'm glad she intervened so you could see Christopher for yourselves. Stay tuned and maybe I'll learn to post pictures too.

Yesterday I told someone that one of our TV weather forecasters has gotten to be like the little boy who cried "wolf." He has predicted frozen precipitation at least a half dozen times this winter and any comes it's a flake or two. Yesterday, later in the day, his prediction came true. We had a little sleet, followed by pretty snow flurries until about noon today--none of which stuck. There are lots of disappointed children.

Last night Tom and I attended a Parkinson's support group and learned some things about exercise for the PD patient. That part of the program was good. The leader of the group is a woman who drones on and on, apparently thinking she must comment on everything anyone says. She makes the meetings a bit tedious. I sat by a lady in a wheelchair whose speech has been greatly affected by her Parkinson's. When I told her my name, she asked if I was Presbyterian. I wondered if it showed! Then she said that she and her husband belonged to First Presbyterian and I said you must know our son. She did. Being Presbyterian didn't show after all. I had to really concentrate and get up close to her to try to distinguish what she was saying and I couldn't help but think how good it is that Tom is getting help at this stage with his speech. Maybe this will nip his speech problems in the bud. Finally, the lady told me that she and her husband moved here to teach at Union University and that she taught piano there for 25 years. We had something else in common and she seemed glad we had another connection. I will look forward to seeing her again.

Last week ABC News, both in the morning and in the evening, featured a story about a 13 year old autistic girl who has never spoken. Consequently, even her parents had doubts about her mental capacity. One day they discovered that she could communicate using a computer. Until then they had no idea the young girl could even spell. When asked the question, "What advice would you give to those dealing with autism?" She said that she would tell them not to be mad (at actions of an autistic person), but to be understanding. No one doubts her mental capacity anymore. She possesses wisdom beyond her hears.

DON'T BE MAD. BE UNDERSTANDING. Those words are stuck in my mind. They work for more than autism. Probably all carepartners get frustrated and impatient with the various symptoms exhibited by those for whom they care. I do. Frustration and impatience, without understanding, leads quickly to anger. Anger is nonproductive. The words of a young, autistic girl remind me to start every day with a prayer on my lips and in my heart that asks God to prevent my anger and give me understanding instead. It's a more loving way to live.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Hi, Mom!

I'm totally hijacking my mom's blog because we never got around to our lesson in putting pictures on the blog. And who doesn't want to see pictures when there's a new baby around?



















And a more recent one. On his one month birthday this past Saturday, with his daddy:





















Now back to your regular blogging . . .

One should always check one's sources! I tried the link I put in my last post and it took me to the You Tube page, but not to the specific story I suggested. If you are interested, click on the link, type in "union university" in the "search" box and you will find more than one video on the subject. The one I referenced is "Union tribute." It's worth the effort.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaregt

It's been two weeks since the tornadoes came through Jackson and today the Union students returned. Classes begin for them tomorrow. Saturday Tom and I drove into the the part of town that took the brunt of the storm and shook our heads in disbelief. When I saw the remains of the Union campus a chill ran up and down my spine as I wondered how there could have been no deaths in the midst of all that destruction. God's protective hand was certainly present. Liz's mom sent me this link you might be interested in watching: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IiHCrsK8. It tells the story.

I learned Friday of last week that the CA125 that indicates cancer activity has gone down another five points. God's protective hand remains with me as well!

We had a great anniversary! We received cards and calls from friends and family members. It was a holiday for many, including the schools, so we didn't have Elisa for the day. We spent our day running a few errands, having lunch at my favorite Jackson restaurant, Tom had speech therapy and we ate seafood gumbo with Tommy and his family in the evening. We really enjoyed ourselves, but were tired at the end of the day.

Wierd weather patterns continue. The local TV weathermen are frustrating the school children to no end with their predictions of ice and/or snow. Several times this winter they have gotten everyone's hopes up and then nothing of any consequence happens. Once again we have been alerted to ice/snow possibilites beginning tomorrow late and continuing through Friday. Who knows? Thankfully, we don't have to go out for anything.

Tom and I went to church together on Sunday for the first time in weeks. Even the Sundays I've substituted in Sunday School or preached in a neighboring town, he has not felt like going with me. It was good to be in worship and to have two of our grandchildren sitting with us. The lectionary gospel reading in John 3 was the text for the sermon and the approach was one I haven't heard before. The minister spoke of Nicodemus and how much we resemble him. He said and did all the "right" things, but could not understand that it's really about believing. The sermon made me think: is my spiritual life focused on "right" words, "right" traditions, "right" actions? Or is it focused on Jesus, the Son of God and my relationship with him? He did for me what I could never do for myself. He gave his life so that I could also have life. Anything "right" should come from my grateful heart. It's too bad that doing church often gets in the way of being the Church!

Til next time . . .
Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

Today, February 13, begins the anniversaries of an eventful ten or so days in our lives. Many of you know of our "long" engagement that started on the 13th of February and culminated with our wedding on the 18th. If you know our story, fast forward and skip the next few lines or stay with me as I have fun remembering.

Tom came home from an almost three year tour of duty in Munich, Germany on Christmas Eve, 1966. His tour was curtailed and he was on the "fast track" to Vietnam. He was a captain in the Army artillery and he was needed in the war--or so they said. Mom and I didn't think so. We communicated all the time he was in Germany and by the time he came home we had been having an on again, off again courtship for six years. Never, in a million years, did I think I would marry him! Seeing him again after his years away, I knew he was the one God had chosen for me and we began talking about getting married either at the end of his preparation for Vietnam or when he came home from Vietnam. He thought we should wait. He didn't want to marry me one week and leave me the next, but his mother told him, in so many words, that he was crazy. So, on Monday, February 13, he told the superintendent of the school where I was teaching that I would be quitting that week. We went to the courthouse to apply for a marriage license, got a blood test and he put a ring on my finger. Saturday, the 18th, we were married, complete with a dress my mother made that week and we left the church headed for Ft. Sill, Oklahoma. Five months later he was on a plane to Southeast Asia. I'll always be thankful for Mom's insistence that love shouldn't be postponed by a war. Every year this time we reminence about that week, how hectic it was and how much fun it was. Six years later our second child was born on February 24.

Valentine's Day has always taken a back seat to our anniversary and Marty's birthday. They are such big, important days of celebration. They are days that remind us of some of God's greatest gifts to us--our marriage and our children. I remember like it was yesterday, standing in the front of the church, holding Tom's hand and hearing Dr. Sims pronounce us man and wife. Now, here we are forty one years, two children and six grandchildren later still counting our blessings and being astounded that life continues to get better! You should be so blessed!

Today has also been special because it was Elisa's first day back with us since we went to North Carolina to greet Christopher. It's been almost three weeks since we've kept her and we've missed her. She entertained us throughout the day with her smiles and "talking." Tom is smitten with her deep blue eyes and long dark lashes! So am I!

We could not have designed a better life if we had tried. I wouldn't have known where to begin to create the lives of our children and I would know even less about putting together the personalities of our grandchildren. They are all truly God's creations. It is our privilege to know and love them and to pray for them.

We are celebrating God's goodness!

Wednesday of this past week--the day after--dawned sunny and clear, but several degrees cooler. The only debris in our yard was left over from the ice the previous week. But, as daylight dawned more and more damage was visible on the north side of the interstate. We learned that the home of one church member was completely destroyed.

Thursday I drove to Memphis for a Committee on Ministry meeting and about five miles west of town I began encountering clean up crews. Trees were snapped in two or completely uprooted, highway signs were twisted, billboards were down and on the sides of the road and in the median you could see places where eighteen wheelers had overtuned. After three or four more miles trees were upright and things looked normal. I saw no signs of damage in the part of Memphis where we met, but I know there is destruction there compounded by looting.

Yesterday, Friday, we drove to Corinth for my treatment. It was a beautiful day. There were patches of green in the fields and some trees had that pinkish tint that appears right before they bud. The drive took us through another area in West Tennessee where the storms hit. I had heard that a mattress factory had been demolished and knew its exact location because I had thought it strange that there would be such a factory in such a rural area. Well, it's not there anymore. The front of what had been the building is crumpled and the contents are all over the land behind, in the trees, draped over the fences. I have heard that mattresses were found miles away.

Schools in our county, as well as in some others, remain closed until Monday. It has taken some time to get power restored and some faculty and staff have had damage at their homes that needed attention. Students at Union University won't report back until February 18. Authorities are still trying to determine what buildings are usable. They know 80% of the residence halls are gone, so finding a place for students to live is part of the challenge. Hopefully, they will be able to complete the semester.

Being brought face to face with both tornadoes and my cancer in the same week prompted comparisons. I learned early in life the difference in a tornado "watch" and a tornado "warning." A "watch" means that conditions exist for the possibility of a tornado and you should be alert--watching. A "warning" needs to be taken much more seriously. This means a tornado has been sighted and those in the vicinity and/or path should move to a place of safety. A person who has a family history of cancer or who has certain risk factors in themselves (i.e. previous cancers) is under a cancer "watch." A "warning" means cancer has been sighted/detected and a person should do everything possible to be safe. Sometimes in either the case of the tornado or the cancer, you heed all the advice, take all the precautions and you still fall prey. Sometimes the tornado devastates one side of the street and not the other. Some survive cancer; some do not. Because we never know when or where the storms in our lives may occur, we need someone in our lives who is bigger than any storm, someone who brings peace in the midst of the storms and someone who will ultimately deliver. Praise God, He is that One!

Scans on Tuesday showed good improvement over the ones in November and though they are not clear we are encouraged that the treatments are working. Two more treatments will be given in this series, then the doctor evaluates and we go from there. Be assured that we are on "watch," knowing that conditions exist that could cause more problems. And, being "warned" I am heeding all the advice and praying that the treatments send this storm on its way again.

Both the phone and my e-mail have been busy this morning with friends checking on us after last night's devastating storms. I am happy to report that we are fine, with no signs of wind damage, no limbs down and no loss of electrical power. We stayed glued to the TV from about 5:30 to 11:30 p.m. and listened for the tornado sirens which sounded off and on for long periods of time throughout the evening. You cannot live in this part of the country and not have done some advance planning for storms. We always keep bottled water, candles, matches, flashlights (and batteries) handy and we have a designated "safe" spot. As soon as we knew the estimated time the storm would be here, we took our supplies to the spot and got ready for the worst.

Interstate 40 intersects the city from east to west and US 45 and a 45 by-pass intersect it from north to south. We live just south of I-40 and between 45 and the by-pass. Most of the damage, certainly the worst, was north of I-40 and across 45 and the by-pass. Union University where students were trapped in destroyed dorms, some for several hours, is about a mile and a half to two miles from us, north of I-40. Most everything north of I-40 lost power and schools all around the area in West Tennessee are closed as crews assess damage and repair power lines. The amazing thing is that there were only two fatalities in our county. We are thankful to be safe, dry and warm. Tommy's family around the corner from us is safe as well.

Thank you for your prayers and concern. Please continue to pray for those across the South who have sustained damage and lost loved ones.

Where did the time go? This has been a short week and tomorrow we head west toward home. We have loved every minute of being here with Christopher, Marty and Kevin, but now we have to get back to our exciting schedule of visits with doctors, tests and a treatment at the end of next week. I have tried to memorize Christopher's features, the little faces he makes and the precious baby noises. He will have changed a lot by the next time we see him. He already looks a bit different from the first peek we had of him in the hospital last Saturday.

Babies are a wonder, a wonder that only God could have designed. The whole process is a wonder! Each time a baby is conceived and carried by a mother, each time a baby comes into the world another miracle takes place. The splendor and grandeur of God's creation, all creatures great and small, the changing of the seasons--all this and more make me absolutely dumbfounded with what God has done. Nothing, however, matches the miracle of babies. We now have six little miracles we know and love as grandchildren and we know how blessed we are.

The experience of this week with our daughter and her son has been pretty special.

The waiting is over! Christopher arrived at 4:56 a.m. Saturday after 30+ hours of labor. Mom was pretty tired, but so excited to finally hold their little bundle of joy. He weighed 7 lbs. 13 ounces, is 21 1/4 inches and has a little hair--unlike his cousins or his mom, uncle and grandparents when they were born. Hair must come from his dad's side of the family.

We are being doting and dutiful grandparents. Tom and I both have had lots of snuggling time with Christopher. It's fun to hold him and just soak in all his little newborn features. They change so quickly from newborn stage to the next. Other than snuggling, we are doing whatever seems to help the most--take care of dogs, get meals on the table, keep the dishes washed--all those things that seem so usual before there is a baby in the house. I think most new mothers are surprised at the amount of time a newborn takes and at how tired they are when they come home. So we're here for a few days to fill in the gaps and it's such a joy.

This is a perfect week for us to be here. There were only two appointments that needed to be rearranged for Tom and I am at the half way point between treatments which means my energy level is at its best. Along with our prayers for Marty and Christopher throughout her pregnancy, we prayed that it would be possible for us to be here. Your prayers and ours for safe delivery, a healthy baby and for our presence at this special time have been answered.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

"Wonder Woman has left the building." I've lived my whole life believing that one could do whatever one set their mind to doing. I come from a long line of doers and strong women--and don't intend for the line to be broken with me. Away with fatigue; out with impatience; begone grumpiness!

My mother was forty three when my father walked out and left her with a child to raise on her own with absolutely no help from him. That was the late forties when divorce was an ugly word, women worked inside the home, not in the market place. She returned to school, completed training to be a liscensed practical nurse and worked in that capacity until a back injury put a stop to floor duty. Because she never learned to drive and we lived in a community with no public transportation, she walked the two plus miles to and from the hospital whether she had the day or the night shift. She was one strong woman.

That goes double for her younger sister, my other mother--the aunt who gave me a home when I needed it most. She is almost ninety and still lives alone on the farm where she has lived for the past seventy years. I never have seen her, nor have heard about her turning her back on hard work. She raised a family, cooked the best food ever, she kept house, did all the washing and ironing, helped do farm chores when neeeded and still had time to teach Sunday school. I grew up wanting to do things just like her. Her strength and deep faith have inspired me. Now, as I have become a care partner for Tom I am encouraged by remembering how she cared for my uncle when he too had an illness that made him old before his time.

Neither my mother, nor my aunt would expect the things of me that I expect of myself. They haven't thought of themselves as "wonder women." They got where they got, did what they did because they knew the strength they possessed came from God. I know the same; I just need to quit trying to run the show and depend on the One in charge. After all, I have been taught well.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

"My cup runneth over." Across the room is a little bundle of pink, sleeping soundly and looking like the precisous angel she is. Across a couple of states is a couple who are anxiously awaiting the arrival of their first baby, Little Bird. There is a lot of talk around our house these days about babies. Lots of smiles accompany that talk. This week Elisa has outdone herself smiling. She has beautiful blue eyes and long dark eyelashes that absolutely melt you when she casts her gaze your way. Her schedule is pretty much: eat, play, sleep with the amount of time she spends on each different each time. We are learning how to get things done during the sleep times instead of just staring at her hoping everything is hunkey dorey in her world.

It's not like we haven't had infants in our care before. We have and they both made it to adulthood, but their continuing birthdays are reminders of how long ago they were infants. I'm afraid the shock of adolescence erased any helpful hints I might have remembered from the early stages of life. Then, they became adults and things changed again. I have loved--mostly--every stage of our children's lives and I treasure the memories, but I'll have to say that one of God's greatest gifts is for us to know and love them as the adults they are today!

One of those adults has five children of his own. I remember the disbelief expressed by the former high school principal when Tommy introduced Liz to him as "my wife." What would that man think if he could observe T & L with their family today? He would see a good looking, sensitive, articulate eleven year old who is affectionate, helpful and a terrific baby sitter. He would see a beautiful seven year old, looking very much like someone he remembers from another high school class--only the hair isn't quite the same color. She, too, is affectionate and helpful and loves to cook with her dad and Maw Maw. The third one is going to be the athelete in the crew. In the midst of all the football a couple of weeks ago, he came in asking his dad, "When will it be time for baseball?" He is inquisitive, plain spoken, unconsciously trying not to be branded as the "middle child." The former principal would have to look quick to see the two year old. She is always on the go, unless, of course, she has a book for you to read, then she's in your lap or close beside you turning pages as you read to her. We all read at her command. She talks a lot, but with her own language. Little E, pretty in pink, would wow even the sternest former principal. She has that way about her, even now. Look out world. Times change, people change. God is at work. I have to think Dr. R would be pleased if he could see Tommy's family today. He might not believe at first glimpse, but he would after a closer look. He would see a blend of mom and dad in all the children; maybe he would know, as I do, that this family is God's creation.

Marty and her husband are counting the days until their first baby arrives. They have a daughter by his former marriage and they share custody with the mother so we can look at a new baby as a first and an addition to the family. All three of them are excited. I'm not sure "excitement" adequately describes Tom's feelings. He is beside himself! My emotions are mixed. I've watched Marty all these years literally pour herself into the people she cares about. I've watched her as an animal lover take in pets no one else wants. I've watched her make tough decisions with her pets, grieve, then move forward. I felt her pain when in her first marriage she knew there would be no natural born children for them. I have seen her with her nieces and nephews and have known how she longed to be a mother. I have examined the depth of love for my children and have wanted, more than anything, for her to experience all that it is to be a mother. Now that time is here. Mothers and daughters may share many things, but to share what it means to be a mother has to be one of the best things of all. The different stages of Marty's life flash before me and I wonder how she will respond to those same stages in her child's life. Should I have loved her more? Why didn't I do things differently? I hope she learns from my mistakes. Most of all I want her to know how much I love her, that I am always here for her, that being a mother is a God given part of life. Without His presence and guidiance, we'd be lost--that's true in all stages of life. Soon, with the weather's cooperation, we'll be packing our car and heading east to welcome the newest blessing to the family. It is a day for which I have prayed and I'm grateful the prayer has been heard and answered with Bird.

The writer of Ecclesiastes writes so eloquently that "to everything there is a season." This is my season to be a grandmother and to cherish the relationships with my adult children.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

The weather here was horrific yesterday--Tuesday, too, for that matter. Tuesday there were tornadoes and high winds north of us and yesterday they were south and east of us. The local weather "gurus" interrupted the program I was watching and talked, predicted, talked and predicted for almost an hour. My thought is they were being paid by the word. We were cautioned about going outside in the 60 mile an hour straight line winds. Really. Who could even open the door with winds that strong? Stay away from windows because they could break from the pressure. I wonder if they thought the viewing public had fallen off a turnip truck.

While they were going on and on Tom was napping and Elisa was sleeping soundly on a blanket at my feet. I was formulating a plan to get both of them up and into an inner room away from windows etc. should a tornado visit us. I was also thinking how glad I was that my trip to the oncologist in Corinth, MS was Friday, not Thursday. Corinth was one of the areas right in the thick of things. Today I learned that the entire clinic had to be moved to the bottom floor to an inside surgical room. That meant taking twelve infusion patients down, each with a pole with drugs hanging. It was quite an ordeal.

Oncology nurses are among my favorite people! I have been helped, advised, served and loved by some good ones. At the UC Davis Cancer Center, they went the extra mile to provide information not on the printed page and to give practical hints about the particular drugs the person was taking. Terri, at UC Davis Clinic in Roseville, who drew my blood more times than I can remember became a dear friend--my only friend outside the church I served. We learned on my first visit to her that we share a common faith and we began to pray for one another. That bound us together. It was she who insisted I be seen and tested when I had the pneumonia that came close to taking my life. Terri has been a Godsend. The nurses at my new clinic told me that they and their patients are family and if ever I felt like I wasn't being treated like family, let them know. A little after five this afternoon the phone rang and it was one of the infusion nurses. The computer had just posted my CA125 and she called to "make our weekend brighter." It's 19.2--down from 27.something in December. She didn't have to do that. But her call did indeed put a smile on our faces. Some other personnel in the clinics have shown care and compassion as well. I remember the perky receptionist at the UC Davis clinic--always a smile, never ruffled. Ava, in Corinth, shed a tear the day we learned I would have to be treated again. She felt and shared my sadness with the bad news. I have been blessed with the best doctors anywhere. All have made this road a little less bumpy. All are answers to our prayers.

There was sunshine everywhere today. Exept for water standing in the fields there were no signs of the storms of Tuesday and Thursday. It was a beautiful day! Events of the week could be compared to the weather: some events were quite stormy; others were calm and full of sunshine. Many events connected with disease are stormy; some have rays of sunshine like when medication helps Tom's symptoms or chemo lowers the blood marker. Always, God is bigger than any storm. In the midst of the stormy weather we had our own sunshine provided by baby Elisa. How very special it is to have her with us a few hours a day! I know babies as young as she is aren't supposed to smile, but I have seen a smile or two this week--with no signs of gas present. A call from our daughter, about to have her first baby, lit up our whole house a big ago. She is so excited--as are we!

Here is my five sentence sermonette. Forget the storms. Watch for the sunshine. Rely on the promises of God. No, cling to the promises of God. Especially remember that He will never leave you, nor forsake you even in the midst of storms.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret

The official college football season ended last night with the BCS Championship game between Ohio State and LSU. The SEC came out on top. Yea!! Now we're back to watching reruns of Law and Order and MASH--and getting to bed at a reasonable hour.

I made an early call to our primary care physician's office yesterday and got Tom in to see the nurse practitioner after lunch. Tom's back had gotten worse over the weekend and he had to have some relief. A stronger pain medication was prescribed and a steroid to attack any inflammation. The pain pill has helped, but it's too soon to know whether the steroids are doing any good.

Today we had the pleasure of keeping our newest grandchild while her mom went back to her teaching job. It's been a long time since I've been responsible for a baby as young as she is. It was one of those "pray without ceasing" days. I found myself just staring at her throughout the day, thanking God for her, the life she has before her, the family she has joined and our being able to keep her for a while. Her being here was good tonic for her Paw Paw! And me too!!

I look forward to tomorrow.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaregt

Football is interfering with my bedtime. I've had too many late nights watching games that turned out to be really lopsided from beginning to end. So why do I watch? I have this crazy thing about me that likes to see things finished. If I am watching a game, I want to see it all. I want to know who wins tonight--not read it in the paper tomorrow. If I'm watching a movie, I have to see it through until the end. If I have a nightmare, I can't go back to sleep until I have made up a satisfactory conclusion and I'm safe. Tom, on the other hand, leaves the game or the movie when he's sleepy or when it's his self imposed bedtime. Sometimes I wake him if the game gets exciting or to tell him who won. If we are watching a "whodunit," he can leave it just as the plot thickens. He may or may not ask in the morning what happened. I have to know now! I'm just curious that way.

Today I attended my first meeting in this presbytery as a member of Committee on Ministry. I served on COM in Sacramento Presbytery and was interested to discover the similarities and the differences in the way the two presbyteries run this committee. One difference is in the way new ministers are interviewed. In Sacramento small groups of volunteers from the committee took care of all interviews. Here, the entire committee does the interview. We had two ministers come before us today--one for an interim position, one for an installed position.

As I listened to them answering the questions on the Bible, theology, pastoral care and polity I found myself wondering how I would answer the same questions. I wondered how my answers today would compare to what I would have said five years ago. (That's not curiousity, but self reflection.) As God's people we should never be satisfied with what we learned yesterday, but rather keep our minds and hearts open so that we can learn what the Holy Spirit wants to teach us today. I was silently grateful for all of those who have taught me by their words and their example and for the experiences God gave me at FOPC.

The game is almost over. Tom went to bed about two hours ago and has been out at least six times to see when I'm coming. Each time he asks and I give him a brief replay of what has happened. I've already checked the TV schedule for tomorrow night and there is no game listed. Maybe I'll get to bed earlier. We both hope so.

Blessings,
Pastor Margaret