Fall Equi"not"

    Montana and the calendar are not always in sync with when the seasons are supposed to begin and end. Winter starts sooner and lasts longer than it's allotted three months, spring lops over into summer, making summer that much shorter. But fall, fall comes right on time, again not by the official calendar, but when I think it should, just after Labor Day. Fall comes when the scent of corn dogs has faded from the fairgrounds, when the sound of school bells or sirens remind me I actually have to slow down in school zones again, when the sun streaming in the window is a welcome friend, instead of the enemy I worked so hard to banish with shades during the summer.  Autumn in Montana is like biting into a sun sandwich, a thick warm slice of afternoon between refreshing layers of cold. The leaves change and so do I, from long sleeves in the morning to short sleeves in the afternoon and back to long sleeves again for the evening.
    Autumn is a perfect balance of beginnings and endings. The beginning of the school year, the end of summer vacation. The beginning of harvest, the end of growing season. Rest for the farmers and their fields, the trees and the grass, the parents whose children were home all summer.  Fall embodies the crunch of apples and leaves, the smell of smoke, the multi-colored splendor of the turning leaves juxtaposed with the muscle soreness of gathering up the deserters. According to calendar, today is the equinox, but I think autumn should begin wherever it falls.            












  

Sovereignty "Seuss"ily

      Sovereignty, despite its fancy spelling, is not a complicated doctrine. It simply means that what God says will happen, happens. Children get it. It is we adults who don't understand. We see the evil in the world around us and doubt God's plan. That is why we worry. Worry is one of those pardonable sins in Christian circles, especially now that we have 24 hour access to programming designed to make us worry, but it is actually a serious offense. Worry is slander against God. It is a statement that God is either not strong enough, or not good enough, to take care of us. So I state sovereignty simply, in Seussical style.

God is sovereign. God is good.

His plans all happen as they should.

He works His will when men obey.

He tells them what to do and say.

He works His will through wicked men

who laugh at God and hate His plan.

They cannot change what God will do.

I don't think they should try. Do you?

Why do we worry, fuss and fret

when our desires have not been met?

Christians should not fear and mope
and live as if we had no hope.

God's plans work out the way they should
for God is sovereign, God is good.

10 Reasons Why I Don't Worry

1.  God is sovereign. He is in control, regardless of how a a situation seems.
2.  God is all powerful. Which is why He can be in control.
3.  God is good. Which makes #2 not so terrifying.
4.  God commands us not to. I recommend obeying. See #2 again.
5.  It does not help. I have never heard of a situation improved by worrying.
6.  It maligns God. That is bad. Again #2.
7.  It negates our witness for Christ. If God left us on earth to be a witness and we are doing a poor job, He may put us in His relocation program.
8. I have people for that. Since I have friends who worry on a semi-professional basis. I tell them the problem, they worry for me.
9. It robs me of joy today and the eternal reward of having trusted God. Why should I steal from myself?
10. God is sovereign. What more can I say?

Willard's Daughter

     In Montana my Dad goes by the name Bill. His actual name is Willard, but that is not as common in Montana as it is in Missouri, and he doesn't want to to be nicknamed Willie, thus the name Bill. So in Montana I am Bill's daughter and in Missouri I am Willard's daughter. It is an honor to be identified this way because Willard is well thought of in his home state. I know this because I am in Missouri with him now, as I was five years ago, and as we were about every three years throughout my childhood, despite the expense involved in getting our family of six from Montana to Missouri. Dad's determination made our paycheck to paycheck purse strings stretch far enough to get there.
     The road must be longer from Missouri to Missoula than the other way around because few of his relatives made it to our house in Montana, but Dad made sure we knew our grandma, aunts, uncles and cousins nonetheless. I am staying at a cousin's house now, so that investment has matured. Dad, a spry 87 years old, believes this may be his last trip to Missouri. I don't yet know if I will have the heart or desire to come here without him but, whether I am in Montana or Missouri, whether he is on earth or in heaven, I will always be proud to be known as Willard's daughter.

The Locket

     There are times when you see the sovereignty of God at work more clearly than others. The story of my daughter-in-law's locket is one of those glimpses of grace. Too beautiful to be written in prose, I have told the story in a poem which, despite the title, is not about a locket. It is, as all things are, about God.

 The Locket

It circled her neck on her wedding day

just as it had twenty two years ago

as she lay in her basket, crying low,

loved, but abandoned,

left with a locket and a note.

The note the Chinese mother wrote

said this child whose life had just begun
 was second child in a land of one,

one more than she could care for.
  Her daughter was abandoned to chance.

Not by chance, the baby was found

by an older couple--childless, poor
in a one room shack lacking even door,
but with love enough to give her up

to begin a new life in America.  

In America, she was home at last.

 And she loved her family, outdoor fun,
her Lord, her life and, in time, my son.
 One final time, their daughter was given

into the keeping of another.

The circle completed when she took his name,

Lamb--just like the lamb engraved

on the back of the locket she had saved,

left long ago by the hand of her mother--

by destiny, not by chance.

        For Emily       8/12/14

Strange Wedfellows

     Every parent wants to see their child happy, in love, and married to a good person. That part is wonderful. The expense can be scary. Fortunately, for this wedding, we had the good sense to be parents of the groom. This particular groom is very laid back, as in no tux/save bucks, so we had very few wedding related expenses. The part where I get cold feet is meeting the in-laws. Everyone knows that a side effect of uniting a son and daughter in marriage is that it also unites two groups of perfect strangers--their families. The problem is the strangers aren't perfect. Sometimes the strangers are just strange. So we came to Colorado with no idea if we were the strangers or the strangees.
     Since we met Emily's family and they are not strange, I have to assume we are the strange ones. Actually, based on extensive personal experience, I have assumed we are the strange ones for a long time. Not strange enough to get our own reality show, just enough to audition for one. I doubt we will get to Steamboat Springs often, but I look forward to getting to know them through the years. Emily's father actually reminds me a lot of Will's father, that guy I live with. 38 years ago, Reed was a stranger too. Now, after 37 years of marriage, I know him very well, so I am well qualified to say--he is still strange.

Wise Words for Will

Dear Will,

     You just got married so I thought I should give some advice about what women are like, only to realize I don't really know what women are like. I'm not sure my thoughts represent those of most women. I have always related better to men.  Some women are as big a mystery to me as Bigfoot. I know women tend to cry more than men and some men think tears are a tool women use to make people do what they want. Sex is also a tool women use to manipulate men, yet you seldom hear them complain about that. The reason--the tears of the opposite sex make men uncomfortable, sex does the opposite. You can tell if a woman is using tears to manipulate because she will inevitably be manipulative in other ways. The truth is, some women are just leakier than others, they cry easily. Others like me, barring loss of home, limb or loved one, cry for maybe two minutes twice a year. As tempting as it is for you to "give her space" at these uncomfortable times, most women want support, not space.
     They also want to talk. Women process feelings by talking about them, just as men process feelings by ignoring them or punching each other. We seldom want our husbands to solve our problems, we want them to understand our problems. Usually, we can come up with our own solution. We just need to know you are on our side.
     Both husbands and wives need to be reminded that arguments are not about winning, they are about working together. Your father would rather have unanesthetized dental work than a verbal argument because I am better with words, therefore, more likely to win. But the real goal of an argument should be to harmonize, through compromise, two differing points of view. (Of course, compromise is not necessary if you are always right, like me.) Since arguments are inevitable, the only way to win is to talk until you are at peace with each other. Unresolved issues will resurface like dust bunnies with every new draft of discord. That said, it is important to stay on topic. Conflict is not the time to toss in the kitchen sink of everything you don't like about your spouse. Doing that obscures the real issue and makes the situation appear worse than it is. When it comes to complaints, the longest list loses.
     If at all possible, pick your times to discuss things as carefully as you pick your times to say "I'm sorry".  No one wants to be sandbagged by their sweetie as they walk in the door. Same goes for discussions when either or both are tired or hungry. Save the really big issues for after a time of mutual contentment. Trust me, I may not know much about women, but I have a black belt in arguing.

                                                                 Love,

                                                                     your arguably wise Mom