Lingering Memories ♫ ♫♫ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♪

10/12/09 ♫ ♫♫ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♪

Papa Haydn's dead and gone
but his memory lingers on.
When his heart was full of bliss
he wrote merry tunes like this.

After all these many years, I still remember those words and plunking out that little ditty on the big upright piano in our front hall at 2211.

We had a piano. Someone needed to play it. So I was “chosen” for piano lessons.

During WWII, Daddy served as a platoon sergeant in the Philippines where he spent so much time in the jungle that according to him, his boots began to rot off his feet. Once as he led his platoon in pursuit of the enemy, he recalled coming upon an abandoned shack. Inside the dilapidated structure there was a piano. One of his soldiers sat down and played it for them and Daddy said he and all the men cried as their spirits were lifted by familiar music from home. At that point he decided, if and when he was able to return to the states to Mother and baby, Buddy, he would someday get a piano for their home. It was their first big acquisition for our old home place at 2211. I spent several years practicing on it. I must not have advanced too much because that ditty and “Falling Leaves” are the only ones I remember.

I do remember my piano teacher, Mrs. Bell. Her home was across the street so there was no “escape” as Mother would watch from our porch as Mrs. Bell awaited me on hers. She did have fun Christmas parties for us. All of her students got to sit at card tables set up in her living room---just like little grownups. We had candy and played a Cootie® game and another game she created with Mr. Potato Head®. Year after year it never varied but we liked it just the way it was----another lingering memory, I guess.

She also had recitals for us. I don’t remember the music but I remember it was on a stage. I also remember that I got to wear a long dress and had matching bows for my pigtails---my mother loved that part.

I wonder what lingering memories my children and grandchildren will have. Will they know what was important to me? Will they remember that God’s word filled my heart with bliss?

These words, which I am commanding you today, shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your sons and shall talk of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way and when you lie down and when you rise up. (Deuteronomy 6:6-7)

Let this scripture linger with you awhile today.

October 7

10/7/09 My grandfather, Robert William Davenport (aka “Dang-Dang”) was born on this day in 1896. I remember his funeral, August 5, 1965. I remember because there were so many flowers and at least ½ the population of Clarksville, TN, or so it seemed. A giant of a man to me with a gravely voice and a generous nature. He let me fill a sack with goodies every time I came to “his” store, Davenport’s Grocery at 3rd and Commerce. As a child, so I’ve been told, I always asked him for a “heavy” sack----the kind that would hold more, I imagine.

My grandmother, Margaret Louise Hooper Davenport, (aka “Mama”) died on this day in 1981. Small, petite and soft spoken, my first spiritual mentor. At her funeral I remember my mother telling me not to cry or I’d get her upset and “we” didn’t do things like that.

My precious niece, Allyson Leigh Adams, died on this day (1995) as well. She was only 18. Tall, slender and absolutely gorgeous. A real dancer too. I’ll never forget that morning walking out of the hospital in Owensboro, Ky---the closest one to where her wreck occurred. I seemed to be in a vacuum screaming for the world to stop and take notice, though no sound came. How could the cars keep driving by and people kept moving as if nothing had happened? It was surreal because something so life altering for all the Adams family had just drastically changed and no one was even taking notice. Our lives would never be the same. You’re probably thinking I should have named this entry, “Morbid Moments.” And it would have been that if that were the end of the story. But God……and the community of faith and family and friends rallied and prayed and fed and soothed. Bus loads of Tri Delts from UK lined the church walkway and sang their love song. Cars pulled over. People came out of their businesses and stood in quiet respect on Virginia Street as the long processional of cars followed the hearse to Riverside Cemetery.
Throughout the years her memory has continued to be honored with memorial services, a playground built at the Methodist church in her name, a stained glass window in the preschool area and a tree on the lawn of the ΔΔΔ house on the UK campus.

Deaths of loved ones can “rock” one’s world. Their funerals become images often recalled for years. How grateful I am for the Rock in my life, the One that is immutable. He offers hope---that blessed assurance shared by believers. If I didn’t have that faith, October 7 would cast a pall over my life each year when it rolled around. But God……..His Word reminds us:

"Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me.
"In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you.
"If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also.” (John 14:1-3)

His Word---It’s what gives us a future and a hope.

Prayer Place

10/5/09 Do you have a prayer place? Mine is a big chair in the corner of the living room. Out of the way and yet obvious, if you get my drift. It’s also beside a window that makes it perfect for seeing my cherry tree, that Josh gave me one Mother’s Day, as it changes with the seasons. Larry hauled the chair all the way from Charlene’s in Halls, TN for me because it was big enough that I could sit in it with my legs crossed under me. I also have a hand-sewn pillow whose fabric has bees embroidered on it----a reminder of Keeper of the Bees, a book loved by me and the two “dancers” in my life. It is also a perfect back support for my old back. The arms of this big old chair have been known to hold, all at once, 2-5 devotional books, a blue blog post-it pad, a box of Kleenix® for weeping Wednesdays (or just a drippy new nose and drooling new mouth) as well as a bowl of oatmeal.

Beside the chair is a decoupage red tray top table embellished with a fleur-de-lis like design that holds my “prizes”---a Bible, topped with my Metropolitan Museum of Art magnifying glass whose handle has carvings of Old Testament scenes, my Canterbury Cathedral mug that holds my assortment of pens, one is from The Cove and is a smooth writing kind with ink that seems to flow, a ballpoint duo which changes to a highlighter with just one turn, and my “extra sharp” sharpened pencils along with an assortment of highlighters differing in color---one comes with post-its in it allowing for page marking ease---and my ever present “Wite-Out.” Obviously not all folks understand my obsession with correctness but this self-professed “journaling junkie” prefers to tidy up mistakes, even in prayer journals. It is a malady that I am working on but have not quite conquered.
There’s also an assortment of perfect gifts on this small table ---a wonderful LUX fragrance candle with a silver cross accent, appropriately named Faith, handmade bookmarks, a MOTTAHEDEH dish that holds my Levenger plastic clips, assorted colored paper clips and sometimes my reading glasses, along with a National Trust leather coaster from Selworthy to hold my morning “cuppa.” The focal point of the table is a framed black and white picture of Daddy sitting in his rocker with his Bible opened and his Upper Room in his hand. The picture was a gift from brother, Buddy, and Charlotte and it is a treasure! The bottom of the table is anchored by my Mama Davenport’s family Bible and a “golf” watch fob that Larry hung there to assist this time compulsive lady who can sometimes let time slip away. Just to the side of this table is a wrought iron magazine rack (until I can afford a Canterbury style one) that is filled with folders of Allen Bible Church info, favorite verses, prayer portions, sermon notes, etc. It also holds a variety of old and new journals, and current reading materials---it really could use an overhaul at the moment.

The corner walls surround my prayer chair with other treasures/gifts. A hand- colored antique (300 years old) book plate, “Palma Dactylifera,” (Palm Sunday), two of Tony Williams antiquarian prints, one of Wells Cathedral and the other of remains of old Castle of Douglas, Larry’s grandmother’s family name. Tony and his wife, Liz, have provided housing for me on a couple of my England treks, from the coast to the most recent one in their Devon farmhouse. An iron cross with an antique patina and fleur-de-lis accents rounds out my prayer place.

So why Have I gone in to all this description of “my prayer place” which many of you have never seen? “My” place draws me! It awaits me! When I’m there, my mind and my spirit know why I’m there. Can you see why? Do you have such a place for prayer and meditation? If not, maybe now is the time to seek out such a place. Make it yours.

Streams in the Desert, (Oct.2) said, “In order to grow in grace we must spend a great deal of time in quiet solitude.” God Calling (Oct. 3) and yesterday’s “Upper Room” both cited the Psalm 46:10 verse.

“Be still and know that I am God;”

“God is the room I rest in.” (Thomas Merton)

Go now and find a place to think on these things.

Gentle Giant

10/1/09 I think it’s time to approach the next to last facet of the fruit of the spirit, gentleness. To do this, I’m sure each of us can conjure up a face, that face of one who comes to mind when we hear the word, gentle. I guarantee you that my face wouldn’t come to anyone’s mind---at least not anyone who knows me well. For me, it wouldn’t be my mother’s face either though her mother was one of the gentlest folks I ever knew. But the face that comes to my mind is that of my daddy. Daddy was and is big in stature and even at age 87, he stands very erect with all his 6’ 2”.
Grandaddy Brud, as my kids call him, has always been a man with a quiet and gentle spirit. I don’t recall him ever even raising his voice at me---or anyone for that matter. Of course, I was his only daughter. As a rambunctious little “tomboy” with skinned knees and lopsided pigtails, I sure earned some “severe” words from Mother, but never Daddy. Harsh words or profanity were just never a part of his vocabulary.
I’m leaving tomorrow to go to Kentucky to visit this gentle giant in my life. I will get to see my brothers as well---two others in my life who have always been gentle toward me. Blessed aren’t I!
I will be off line but I will be collecting THOTS on this fruit quality. I think God has a lot to teach me about gentleness now that I have become aware of my capacity to be “ungentle.” Maybe as Thomas Merton suggests, I’ll begin with small steps by just “closing doors gently” yet with the greater goal in mind. What is that greater goal? The answer is Ephesians 4: 1-2.

".....Walk worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience showing forbearance to one another in love,"

DIRTY LAUNDRY

9/28/09 Mother didn’t believe in airing your dirty laundry. But she believed in laundry---in the finest sense of the word and gave meticulous attention to hers. Daddy used to tease that when dropping his previously worn shirt into the pile, Mother would have it washed, ironed and hanging in his closet before it even had time to reach the floor. She had a routine. That’s putting it mildly!
She preferred Tide in general and Ivory Snow for her whites. Her bleach of choice was Purex®, nothing else. She was a Purex purist.
After washing, the clothes went to the backyard clothesline to dry, at least all her linens did. Some how the smell of those sheets drying in the sun and breeze of the day is still fresh in my memory. A bag hung on one end of the line and she would use one clothespin to attach two articles of clothing at the same time. An amazing feat to my young eyes. Her “unmentionables” never made it to the clothesline but dried on a wooden drying rack set up on the latticed back porch. The lattice provided ventilation but kept the laundry view obstructed.
Mother starched everything (made her own starch, I think) and also “sprinkled” her clothes before ironing---maybe everyone did in this era before steam irons. Most of the time she took a Coke bottle that was filled with water---that had a strainer cap on the top which she’d created by poking holes in the lid with an ice pick---and sprinkled each item as we ironed. Sometimes she’d just dip her fingers into a bowl of water and sort of sling the water off of her fingertips. If she didn’t finish all the ironing she’d roll the sprinkled items in a terry cloth towel and put it in the back refrigerator until the next ironing day. I never did laundry growing up and Mother even re-ironed our ironing lady’s attempts. I told you she took it seriously.
Mama Davenport, on the other hand, involved me in “wash days” at her house. On my summertime visits I would help her lug the laundry down to the basement at 416 South Second in Clarksville, TN. That’s where the wringer washing machine was---hand powered, I might add. She would hand feed the clothing through the press to squeeze the water out of the clothing. As she cranked, I would pull the clothes through. They came out looking like flat but crumpled sheets of paper. Though her horror stories about cousin Joy’s hand getting caught, and of hands and arms dismembered from machines like this kept me vigilant at all times, I never missed an opportunity to be with Mama. I don’t remember any other particulars except that she had bottles of bluing sitting on a nearby ledge (that stuff is probably only used for science projects these days) and we had to be quiet when we were down there because the young army couple from Fort Campbell who rented her basement apartment had a new baby.
Most often Mama Davenport hung her clothes on a line in the basement to dry---making it a great place to hide or run under and she never seemed to care. She also had a carousel clothesline which Dang-Dang had placed in a corner of the yard up near the back of the house. I guess he didn’t want folks to view their laundry either.
Warning---No clotheslines allowed. That’s the rule of the neighborhood I’ve lived in for 33+ years. Seems like every one is against laundry of any kind---maybe that’s because it reveals too much about who we really are. I was once in a church like that as well. Yesterday, Pastor Cole talked of Aristotle’s strata of friendship---and we don’t confess our sins (dirty laundry) to just anyone but only to those whom we know well enough to take relational risks. Maybe we need warning labels like the ones on the laundry tags of our clothing. Wash separately. Maybe you only share your dirty laundry with the Lord. Or, share your dirty wash with like colors only---with like-minded close friends, who know you as well as you know them and don’t recoil but hold you accountable in love thus not allowing your sin to bleed into other areas of your life.
Everyone has dirty laundry. Whether you hang it out for the world to see (think some celebrities) or in a back corner of a yard or on a latticed back porch where only a trusted few can see it or in the deep recesses of the basement (your heart) where only God sees it, it’s there. Just know that if the filth is left hidden in the hamper, it becomes stinky and it can indeed permeate all that’s around it.

Today is Monday and at 2211 (my KY childhood home) Monday was the main laundry day. So, today’s meditation coincides with that memory as I seek to clean my heart. This time you choose the one that is best for you and where you are in the laundry room of your life today.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity And cleanse me from my sin. Purify me with hyssop, (could be the Clorox disinfectant of biblical times) and I shall be clean;
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Psalm 51:2,7

Such were some of you; but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God. I Corinthians 6:11 (Ask God how you can be “washed.”)

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church gave Himself up for her, so that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, Ephesians 5:25-26 (Do you desire your husband to read God’s Word aloud to you? Does hubby know that?)

let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Hebrews 10:22 (How can we “sprinkle” our hearts clean?)

Now why do you delay? Get up and be baptized, and wash away your sins, calling on His name. Acts 22:16 (Is this action needed in your laundry room?)

If we say that we have no sin, we are deceiving ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. I John 1: 8-9 (ALL our dirty laundry---what a praise that is!)

I am ready to do a little laundry. Hope you join me.

Just the facts, ma'am…………

9/27/09,,,,,,,just the facts. Remember Dragnet. Such melodrama. We loved it at 2211 South Virginia Street....

---first on radio and then in the mid 50s on TV---when we finally got a black and white console. From those first four musical notes, “dum dee dum dum” and the intro, "Ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent," we were hooked. Seems like in later years, younger brother, Bobby, even had Joe Friday’s badge 714 to wear when he pedaled his little blue and white police motorcycle---that had a little trunk on it where older brother, Buddy, would hide his textbooks so he could say he had no homework. But I digress. Imagine that!

All of this to remind myself that God wants me/you to face the facts not feelings. Yesterday morning I was in somewhat of a blur because of another “wee hours” awakening. As I opened my Streams in the Desert, the 9/26 entry verse shouted out to me.

We live by faith, not by sight. (2 Corinthians 5:7)

For a couple of weeks now I have been hoping that my faith shows ---it is my anchor---even when my faithfulness isn’t very evident as I have been struggling with feelings of inadequacy, anxiety and the dreaded C-word, i.e. control.

As believers, “we live by faith not by sight.” God never want us to live by our feelings…….our inner selves may want to live by feelings….He….wants us to face the facts of Christ and His finished and perfect works for us….face these precious facts….believe them simply because God says they are facts….He will take care of our feelings….God never gives us feelings to encourage us to trust Him…..God only gives …feelings when He sees…we trust Him…apart from our feelings, resting solely on His Word…His faithfulness…therefore we must choose between facing our feelings or facing the facts of God. (emphasis, mine) (excerpt from Streams, p. 365)

my goals / His goals…..

9/26/09…….are they the same? My goal has been to share a word study, of sorts, on each of the nine aspects of the “Fruit of the Spirit” through this blog. I first started my “fruit findings” June 22 and assumed I would have run the gamut on this topic in approximately 9 entries. That hasn’t happened. Some took more than one entry. Other topics kept coming up in between. I still have THOTS on faithfulness and I haven’t even gotten to gentleness and self-control yet. Lately, I’ve begun to realize that I might not get to them before I leave for Texas in 3½weeks. I have visions of trying to write about self-control while coming out from under anesthesia as I lie on my back at Baylor Medical Center. With that in mind, a new goal has been set---finish excogitating on these fruit qualities by October 19. Can I do it? Not sure. I just have to have a goal.

I’m a goal setter---a ”list checker-off-er.” Checking things off my list gives me such a sense of accomplishment that I’ve been known to add an already completed task to my list just for the satisfaction of checking it off. I do so love a sense of accomplishment, even if fleeting. I even rationalize that this practice helps me keep track of what I have done----at least until I misplace my list.

But God…………is “in charge” of this blog. Often, I wonder why I’m writing for public interpretation and yet more often I wonder what I’m suppose to write….and then my fingers just start typing. Most recently, the “piece to Peace” idea came to me in a dream, title and all. I kind of liked that---‘cause I knew it was His work.

I wonder if His goal is the October 20 deadline, as well. We’ll see! If it is, it will be a done deal.

The mind of man plans his way,
But the LORD directs his steps. (Proverbs 16:9)

Piece to Peace

9/22/09
When I received the cancer diagnosis last January, I had some choices to make. Some of them were logistical---actually a lot of them were logistical and seemed to be ever changing. However, the choice to give this piece of my life to God was not difficult at all. Some folks might marvel at that, but before you put me on some “faithfulness” pedestal, I have a confession. That choice was not difficult for me because I didn’t really have control over what had happened. It “was what it was”---mycrocystic adnexal carcinoma. Life happens---“it is what it is” and much of it is out of our hands.

The swap--giving my piece of a “cancer victim life” to God--was replaced by His incredible Peace. So what’s the problem, you wonder? The problem is me. Other “swaps” in my life still don’t come as easily. When I think (wrongly, of course) that I have some control over a situation, then it is harder to turn it over to Him. Children’s choices, economic “stretches,” work obligations, to name a few.

What does God’s Word say about all this sinful fretting? For one thing, submission is necessary. Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your anxiety upon Him because He cares for you. (I Peter 5:6-7) Then, when we’re anxious for nothing, He gives that Peace that we can’t even comprehend. (Philippians 4:6)

Six months ago I gave God a big piece of my life---a rare cancer. In return, He gave me an even bigger PEACE---His Peace that passes understanding. As stated in Jesus Calling’s 9/12 entry, His Peace is a continual gift to me, I just have to receive it.

Today I sought peace, I pursued peace and I found peace---or it found me as I turned pieces of me and my struggles over to Him-- moment by moment. May I continue to receive His gift of Peace. Remembering that He cares for me, may I lay at His feet all those shattered pieces of my life, those cares and concerns that rob me of joy, and receive His Peace. What an exchange!

Simple Memorization

9/21/09
All my recent simplicity efforts (paring down to one “labeled” jump drive) resulted in blog notes for the “perfect” (yea, right) blog being somewhere other than where I can access them at the moment. Possibly, running out the door after faculty meeting where I had presented a “quick” on-line resource list via a computer projector (with display resolutions that distorted my “view”) in order to make a 3:00 one-on-one meeting at the Apple Store affected my mind. Or maybe it was the loading all my needed gear in the trunk and then slamming it with my keys inside that threw me for a loop. Or possibly it was having to ask Mr. Brenn for a ride to Saddle Creek and him being kind enough to clear me a spot in his car. Perhaps it was having to ask to use a land line at a store, because I have no cell, to call hubby to come pick me up and rescue my keys, one more time. Or maybe it was being late for my walk with Ellen knowing she had been waiting over ½ an hour and I had no way to get in touch. Simply put, I almost cut out even posting a blog. But God……………reminded me that today is Monday. We all know what that means---it’s the day to simply meditate. This week I’m actually trying to memorize it as well. Won’t you join me!

This book of the law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it; for then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have success. (Joshua 1:8)

I’m not sure how prosperous my day looks to you, reader, but the fact that I ended up it God’s Word means that it wasn’t’ a complete wash---just simply a typical Ditsy Dotsy Day.

Facial Reflections

9/18/09
Now we see but “through a glass darkly” (a poor reflection in a mirror) This phrase is often interpreted to mean that humans have an imperfect perception of reality. Folks might not see us as we really are.
Sometimes that is true---when I want to put on my mask, my face might wear a smile though my heart is sorely grieved. On the other hand, when I was lying in that Baylor hospital bed, my face probably looked like a “sadsack” but my heart was full of joy. So, what am I trying to say??

I want my life to reflect my faith even if my smile is off kilter. I want to gaze at God so that I reflect His countenance. To do that, I need to seek His face. “When You said, Seek My face," my heart said to You, "Your face, O LORD, I shall seek." Psalm 27:8

I want to quit glancing at myself every time I walk past a mirror. That face isn’t going to change (improve) a lot more, but my heart can. A changed heart can become a mirror of His face---a reflection of Him.

If I prayed for you today, I prayed this verse---

God be gracious to us (you) and bless us, (you) And cause His face to shine upon us (you) Psalm 67: 1

His face shining through you, that’s what I want for you, my Friday folks.