CHOOSE: THE SHEPHERD'S LEADING

"Savior like a shepherd lead us...." would ring out many a Sunday in the sanctuary of Clarksville, TN's First Christian Church. I remember snickering when the word "bosom" would appear in the singing. As small as Mama Davenport was, she could give a BIG look to squelch any giggles.

I also remember the church was located on Madison. I remember the street name because I always walked there, with "Mama". She didn't drive and as far as I know, my grandfather's (Dang-Dang) feet never crossed the threshold of said church.

An early morning cuppa from my fave Mary Alice Hadley Country Collection''s
"lamb" reminds me of my gentle, godly grandmother, Mama Davenport.

Maybe that's why her tender voice would enthusiastically join with all the  worshippers, because she knew she needed the care of a Shepherd! 

I never knew a time when Mama Davenport did not choose to let her Shepherd lead her. (Psalm 23:3) My spiritual mentor, "Mama," showed me the importance of choosing the Shepherd's leading.

"Sen-TEA-mental"

...when I call to remembrance the genuine faith that is in you, which dwelt first in your grandmother Lois......., and I am persuaded is in you also. (2 Timothy 1: 5, NKJV)

This past week, I have been on a sen-TEA-mental journey of sorts. I've spent time with both my brothers (tea drinkers together as kids) as well as cousin Joy. Joyce, as others call her, was a big part of my childhood, tho we lived in different states. (only 24 miles apart) She's always been a Tennessee gal---I've just re-located here from Kentucky.

Sen-TEA-mental--that would be me---it's the adjective that modifies the cuppa I drink from a lot lately. It’s this emotional tendency that causes me to "puddle" at inopportune times. It's  where most of my "house" clutter originates….it's so hard to part with things that prompt feelings of tenderness and nostalgia, along with a little sadness woven in.

Parting from dear ones, those whom I rarely see, always has me excessively prone to those feelings. Plus, on this trip, sweet Joy has given me, a sen-TEA-mental gal, great joy. She gave me Mama’s rocker.

Thus, this morning, coupled with the fact that my cancer doc visit would be in just a couple of hours, I gave into the excessive indulgence of my emotions. Praising and "puddling."

As Timothy's grandmother taught him the Scriptures from a young age, it was my grandmother, "Mama Davenport," who let me watch midget wrestling on Saturday nights and still got me up early for the walk to church the next day. 

She taught me scriptures as well....as we walked up Second Street turned right onto Union and a block later hung a right on to Madison Ave. and on down a ways to the First Christian Church. It was on the south side of the street on a corner and we always entered the front door, furthest east. Not sure why. 

I assume God knew that one day my faith would blossom, and my faith was due, in no small measure, to the godly upbringing and influence of Mama.

All of these sentimental thoughts of gratitude crowded my head as I had my cuppa seated in Mama's rocker and read Psalm 121 from her battered Bible. 

The thought that God might use me to pass on an eternal legacy to my children's children has me "puddling" in my sen-TEA-mental cuppa .

Texts for knowing God

2/16/12 “This is my Father’s World and to my listening ears all nature sings and round me rings the music of the spheres…..of rocks and trees and skies and seas, His hands thy wonders wrought….”  (lyrics from memory, but Chris Rice’s piano rendition is playing on my iPod, as I type)

An often said adage, “two texts of knowing God are His word,” (Psalm 119:38) and His creation. (Romans 1:20) has been clearly revealed to me this week---becoming truth in my own life. Whether seeing Who God is, in His Word, or seeing and hearing God on my walks, I have come to know and love Him more.

But it was that tune remembered from years ago that flooded me with the truth that is proclaimed in nature. Nature is that open book to the beauty not only of creation but also of the Creator Himself.

That hymn was introduced to me sitting in a pew at First Christian Church (Disciples of Chris) on Madison Avenue in Clarksville, TN. Probably elementary age. Probably winded from the long walk to get there from So. Second Street.
Sitting next to me was another “text” of knowing God, my grandmother. Jesus was written all over Mama Davenport’s life. 

How grateful I am for that “text” in her life. May I become such a “text” to others.

Are you reading me?