Two years ago today I sat at my computer and clicked on the word “publish” to release my first post on my blogging website. For the whole of my life I had loved writing and longed for time to do so. For a brief time when our children were young I was invited to be a “stringer” for a local newspaper in the next county.

 

For those of you for whom that term is unfamiliar, let me share that in the days when iPads were not yet in existent and newspapers were still “king”, in addition to full-time staff other writers in outlying areas were hired to get local news. They would be paid by the column inch so each writer would cut out the articles and stories they had written and tape them all together end for end and measure the inches or the “string”. I think I received the grand total of 12 cents per inch. I was given a Polaroid black and white camera and if I took a photo or submitted any picture, I received one dollar for each. Clearly, I did not make a great deal of money.

 

The up side of this job was that it worked well with full-time mothering AND I got a lot of experience writing a variety of things. I might be covering a school board meeting one night and a county fair another. In the midst of it all, I was also blessed to be given several assignments to research and write feature stories. This was the very best of all! One of them was about an old “roundhouse” used to repair trains in a neighboring village and another was researching another small town that had been a boisterous coal community in the mid-1800’s. Miners in that small town had a dispute with the mine owners and hired a young upstart attorney from Canton, Ohio, to represent them. His name? William McKinley. The result? He won the case and the miners were grateful and formed what would become the United Mine Workers.

 

Both feature stories took a full page and I had a marvelous time interviewing dozens of folks and unearthing photos of the periods both stories focused on. For three years I used my manual typewriter to type up the story and phone it in and then a ministry opportunity came along that took any time I had beyond being a wife and mom and I left the role of “stringer” behind. I did have one other chance to write a series of articles on spiritual healing for a periodical, but then my path changed again and I spent nearly 15 years teaching junior high developmentally handicapped children.

 

Teaching was what college had trained me to do, but I was more interested in the students’ lives and their family life than teaching subjects so I headed back to graduate school while teaching. The purpose? I worked as a Licensed Professional Clinical Supervising Counselor and Independent Marriage and Family Therapist for 25 years in Christian settings. Those years left little to no time to write. Then one time I wrote something and shared it with someone who had some level of experience in editing as I still longed to return to write. She basically told me that I had nothing to offer and for ten years, I wrote nothing at all.

 

As retirement came three years ago, I noticed an opportunity to participate in a Writers Boot Camp in Colorado with Margaret Feinberg (a favorite author) and Jonathan Merritt. I vacillated for several weeks, but then decided to go since we were heading west for vacation around that time. After registering, I learned I was required to set up a website and submit several blogs before attending. Yikes!!!

 

With echoes of the person’s words that had negatively critiqued something I had written so many years before ringing in my ears, I followed the instructions and two years ago today I hit the tab that said, “publish”.

 

These two years have taught me much about myself and the world of blogging and writing. They have also granted me courage and faith in the desire and gifts the Lord has given me and allowed me to “meet” others whose stories are not the same, but gave them doubts about writing as well.

 

Thank you for reading what I have written and allowing me to come into your life by doing so. Each time I sit down in our den, I ask the Lord to give me life-giving words. As He leads me, I look forward to many more writing adventures.

 

PS….I don’t use a black and white Polaroid camera any more, but using one all those years ago gave me a love for photography I have never ceased enjoying. I have added some of my latest shots to this post!

 

 

 

 

In the spring, summer, and early fall, I love reading on our deck overlooking the back lawn after dinner in the evening. It is a time of settling at the end of the day. The breezes catch the lush fragrance of our sweet bay magnolia blossoms as the sun begins to slip down in the western sky. The pages of the book in my lap invite me to venture into other worlds, places, and ideas as the sunlight retreats into shade across my shoulders. It is a gentle time of the day as I sit sipping my tea.

 

In summer, fireflies gradually begin to appear across the lawn, but before they make their appearance the summer evening chorus begins. Across the lawn and the neighborhood birdsong echoes and reverberates in serenade. As I listen, I wonder which bird is making the song. I know that if my youngest granddaughter were at my side she could likely tell me. Her great love of birds and knowledge about them astounds me. She knows their habitat, their eating habits, their song, and so much more. In this, she reminds me of the extent of the details about every created thing and I am awed by that evidence of our Creator.

 

Listening to the chorus, I consider what a gift their melodies create. Even though they sing at many other times, it is at this time of the day when I have stopped rushing about that I hear them best. Why do they sing then?

 

A search online gives some clues about their singing habits. I discover that many birds are diurnal and governed by the rhythm of light and dark. In the morning, it is the robin and redstart that begins the chorus, with many sparrows and finches being the last to join in. As the sun begins to descend in the evening sky, the chorus begins again but this time it is the sparrows and finches that begin with the robins and other birds joining last. Later, the nocturnal birds pick up the refrain.

 

Some of the songs relate to feeding or mating. Some believe they are calling out to let all know that they made it through the day and are alive, well, and in the area. Some believe they are communicating they have found a good place to roost while others believe it is because night predators will soon pose a risk and they are calling their kind back to their nests to roost. Even so, the potential deeper meanings are not understood.

 

Perhaps it is creation’s lullaby for the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve and serves as a reminder of God’s presence. Perhaps it serves to remind us to call those we love to return to the safety of home. Perhaps it serves to remind us to allow our own voices to celebrate the day and reminds us we have made it safely.

 

I am not sure it is so important for me to know why they sing, but instead that I enjoy the chorus with its crescendos and decrescendos and offer praise to the One who created the song.

 

 

 

Inviting people to come to our home for dinner is something I very much enjoy doing. There is a special sense of connection that takes place around a table over good food. Somehow conversation flows so easily that often we never leave the table for more comfortable chairs in other parts of the house. Coffee cups get refilled multiple times and the lit candles on the table flicker as the evening progresses. We can easily lose track of time.

 

When the schedule is busy or I have worked all day or all week, I can still feel pressure to plan the menu, shop, clean the house, choose good music to play in the background, and choose the dishes and linens I most prefer.

 

When I was first married, the pressure I felt had more to do with proving myself somehow to the other Marine Corps officer wives at our table. Later, I felt an internal pressure to somehow make the preparation look like it was easy and that I “had it all together”. The goal was always to have everything done before guests arrived and that included me changing my clothes and touching up make-up. I felt I could relax when everything was in place. Of course, that didn’t always happen which tended to leave me feeling unsettled. Over time and years, the organization of such an evening became easier.

 

We were also blessed with one couple whose relationship with us grew to such a point that I didn’t worry if things were not ready because they would jump in and help finish while we all laughed and talked. The same would happen at their home as well. We were truly “at home” with each other no matter which home we were enjoying, no matter what had happened with a recipe, no matter whether the table was set or I still had flour dust on my clothes. What a gift!

 

Recently, we were having new friends to our home for dinner and I had chosen a simple menu, which ended with my homemade pie. Homemade pie has been something I have become known for and usually I manage it with ease and the results are fairly predictable. I was in the midst of making the cherry pie when everything began to fall apart. The crust had rolled out perfectly. Now to make the filling. The thickening agent I usually use was not working at all and suddenly I was racing about trying to sort out what I could do to accomplish the job. What had started out as a simple task I have done hundreds of times became a mountain to be conquered and it took much more time than usual to do so.

 

I suddenly felt like Martha racing about the kitchen and I could almost hear Jesus admonishing me to look at what was important regarding the evening. From that perspective, the cherry pie filling did not meet the criteria of what mattered most.

 

We are encouraged to practice Christian hospitality, but that really isn’t about how perfect the food turns out, whether or not we eat from china or paper plates, use fine linens or paper napkins, have the house in order with no dust lingering or have stray magazines or toys left on the floor.

 

What really matters is the love, warmth, and kindness we extend. That is what sets the stage for the lingering conversation around the table, the sense of community, and the enjoyment of deepening relationship. That is also what allows those we invite to feel valued, relaxed, and free to enter into the time together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Words from the Hill: An Invitation to the Unexpected, author, Stu Garrad, invites the reader to move in just a little closer as if we were in the crowd on the mount near the Sea of Galilee as Jesus gives His famous teaching that includes the Beatitudes. He sets the stage reminding us to go back in time when there would have been no screens to read from, no amplifiers to make sure even the back row could hear well, no devices to make notes on, and no band to warm everyone up for what was to be taught. Then he tells us to really listen and asks, “What does it mean to listen?

 

One-by-one through eight chapters Stu revisits each of the Beatitudes and asks us to listen and look at them with fresh eyes and apply them to our own hearts today to delve into the rich meaning of each one.

 

To those who are poor in spirit, whether poor materially or deep in their soul, and crushed in their spirit, the author reminds us God is on our side. There are no requirements and nothing to attain. He also challenges the reader to recognize his or her own poverty and shares the stories of some who best illustrate what it means to be poor in spirit. He reminds us that sometimes we need to ask the seemingly unanswerable questions before we can be ready for the answers and in the midst of this famous sermon discover the key to making sense of life.

 

The author reminds us that when we mourn, we need to remember this is really God’s story we are living in the midst of. It is a story of one who hears the cry of the victim, the hurting, and the broken. He hears the blood of Abel crying from the ground and He hears the “outcry” that had reached Him from Sodom and Gomorrah. He also hears the groans of the Israelites in misery and slavery and reminds us that throughout the story of scripture, God hears the cry of those who mourn and draws near.

 

The word meek is not used much in modern language, but the author reminds us that it refers to those whose presence is constantly denied or ignored as He speaks of the third Beatitude. They are those who are not just powerless, but those for whom power has never been an option. The meek include those who have been marginalized and displaced and he invites us into a personal glimpse of some of their lives.

 

In a world where some have so little and some have no lack, what does it mean to hunger and thirst after righteousness? Stu tells us:

“When Jesus’ early listeners heard his words about hungering and thirsting for righteousness, they would have understood that Jesus meant doing the right thing regardless of the circumstances, and having a disposition toward justice no matter the cost.” After all, the mishmash of people sitting on the hill had experienced the crushing and breaking of their world by the power of Rome and they were living in the midst of the occupation.

 

As the author continues to the Beatitude on mercy, he nudges the reader again to be sure he or she is hearing him by telling us that these Beatitudes are not about doing or serving to attain any kind of blessing or recognition, but rather they are about being. He says, “It’s what we become by accepting the invitation to join God in the work He is already doing, and being where He is. By showing mercy.”

 

To look at what it means to be pure in heart, Stu reminds us that we can too often live with divided hearts. There is the self everyone sees and we talk about on Facebook and the self we seek to keep hidden within hoping no one will ever see. To be pure in heart means we must bring our shadows into the light to begin to put our hearts back together. Then we are congruent and we can more easily attend to God’s voice and the voices of those around us.

 

The author challenges us to consider what it means to truly be a peacemaker or to be persecuted. In both chapters, he gives examples from his own lived experience as well as from the vantage points of others as he has traveled throughout the world.

 

Stu Garrad, best known as the guitarist for the British band Delirious?, lays down his guitar and picks up his pen to once again move in closer to the Words from the Hill and to recognize afresh that God is on our side.

 

To comply with new regulations introduced by the Federal Trade Commission, Tyndale House Publishers provided me with a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for my review.