All in Spiritual Growth
Feeling cooped up has been a universal experience this year. Sometime around the end of April I distinctly remember sitting on the back porch, listening to the sweet melody of the myriad of little birds feasting on my loquat tree—oh, to be a bird and fly free! It is at times like this that freedoms tug.
The young man sitting across the table confided, “When I was twenty-five, I thought I knew everything and was bullet proof. Nothing could hurt me, and no one could teach me anything. In the past few years I’ve discovered neither of those was true.”
When I was growing up, I imagined how cool it would be to have a videophone. This was a futuristic idea only seen on TV at the time. Well, it’s not futuristic anymore. It is common practice, especially now.
I have to admit, I don’t really like a quiet house. If I am alone, I’ll turn on the TV for some background noise. When fixing dinner or cleaning up, I like to watch or listen to something. I immediately sense the urge to turn on a little HGTV, etc. Even in the car, I am listening to something. Not that this is wrong, but I have allowed this to become a habit for me.
When I was a child, there was a “Mr. Men” and “Little Miss” book series written by Roger Hargreaves. The characters in the stories had dominant personality traits that either caused them problems or showed another character how to engage in the positive quality. Everyone learned something through the moral lesson of story.
Spring cleaning has taken on a new meaning these days. Closets, drawers and attics have been reorganized. Our yards and gardens may be looking better than years before. Surely there is some comfort gained while our to-do lists dwindle. But some people are entering into a restless phase while this virus continues to take center stage in our lives. I have begun to sigh when I hear the morose acronym...COVID-19.
I’m not the family historian. Fortunately, other members have faithfully gathered helpful information and ancestral stories. I have two amazing grandmothers who lived through the Great Depression and World War II. Their faith that God would care for them remained strong. I also discovered a circuit riding pastor in my lineage, multiple church deacons, a cowboy who drove cattle to feed the confederate army, farmers, school teachers, a whaler, a constable and a physician.
The word caught me by surprise and enthralled my heart. I guess it’s something every little girl wants to feel, “beloved by her father.” I remember a tender moment while visiting my grandmother’s home. For some reason, I saw my father standing with hands in pant pockets, and head tilted back studying the 8 X 10 groupings of Granny’s nine infant grandchildren. I heard him ask my mother, “Are those our babies?” I realized he was trying to identify the faces of his own babies among the display. As a young adult, I suddenly realized I had once been his baby. I do have pictures of him peering proudly into the bassinet at little, swaddled “me.” Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to continue communicating that adoration throughout the rest of my life—but tender expressions are absolutely no problem for God!
I’m practicing deep breathing as part of daily relaxation disciplines. In my morning devotions I discovered a reason I actually can relax because it’s all going to come together—all this craziness that surrounds me. I feel relief just imagining this new reality.
Truth is ladies, we cannot transform lives; only the Spirit can. As promised, Jesus sent the Spirit of truth (John 14:16-17) to His bewildered band of followers at Pentecost, resulting in 3000 plus conversions that day (Acts 2:41). The spiritual regeneration of Paul on the road to Damascus (Acts 9:1-19) was astonishing. We read of many others living by the Spirit from the moment of their transformation. Apparently though, the Galatians had started along that path but were now out of step with Him.
Ladies, until Christ is formed in you is such a formidable thought to me. That Paul, a man, should wrap it in childbirth is quite intriguing. And yet Jesus Himself introduced the image of spiritual rebirth into Scripture: “I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again” (John 3:3). Certainly, on his initial visit to Galatia Paul labored to rebirth his friends into God’s family. He is now, again, in the pains of making sure these children of his grow up in the faith.
Our Girl Scout troop had enjoyed sliding down the largest slide at our city park. At noon we left to eat our picnic lunch in another area.
I loved to swing as a child. Our teachers would take turns swinging us on the playground. When I learned to pump, I became an independent swinger. How invigorating to soar higher and higher.
Strife and frustration describe my state of mind the year we tried to move to Lindale. We lived in Chandler. I taught in Lindale and had after school commitments in Tyler. This meant 30 minutes to work, 30 to activities, and 30 back home. My heart’s desire was for more family time in the evenings.
I am a wannabe gardener. I love all kinds of plants, flowers and trees. However, gardening doesn’t come naturally to me. I am so excited when something grows that I can’t stand the thought of cutting it back.
I remember getting some parenting advice as a newlywed — four years before we would have children.
We talked with a Christian family raising five kids. After praying and reading many parenting books, they decided to do church differently from their friends.
As my friend got ready for her garage sale, she found one lonely ski glove.
Who needs one ski glove? She thought and almost threw it away. After all, it’s highly unlikely that someone with one arm would ski.
We teach third-grade Sunday School each week, and we’ve been studying Joseph’s life. These Bible stories aren’t new. Yet I’m amazed at how practical they are for us today — no matter our location or stage of life.
I live in the Piney Woods of East Texas. Yep, you guessed it, surrounded by pine trees. The school district I attended from Kindergarten through graduation is even named Pine Tree Independent School District. I have to admit, I love the pine trees. I love walking in the woods, and I love the smell of these evergreens.
I watched my husband and our daughter paddle out into the surf in a kayak. They moved through the water to look at the array of fish under them. At times they stopped paddling, but they did not stop moving. Sometimes they drifted further away from where they wanted to go. It required intentional effort to move in the right direction. To go where they wanted to go, they had to pursue it. Just drifting was not going to be enough.
