DOXOLOGY

4/3/09 Doxologies
Going home for me usually entails a Sunday morning visit to First United Methodist Church on South Main in Hopkinsville, KY. It’s a beautiful old stone church and in some ways much of it has remained the same, at least in the sanctuary where stained glass windows line both sides. The large stained glass window above the choir loft is flanked by the tall shiny brass organ pipes. The floors still creak. The dark wooden pews are still hard and in my mind I can see people sitting in “their” pews. I catch my self looking across the aisle for Christine and Pappy, though they passed away years ago. I even remember looking at the back of Mr. Frank Yost’s head, always so neatly combed, with his two daughters, Ridley and Francie sitting to his right. I don’t know where they are now but I do know that his milling company still makes Sunflower flour which I can now buy at my Kroger. Just buying it gives me a connection to home and the memory of my mother’s biscuits---because she wouldn’t even consider buying anything else.

I am drawn to different modes of worship both personally and in a church setting. But growing up in a traditional protestant setting provided a background based on a more formal liturgy. This traditional ritual of worship has remained the same and that familiarity feels right because I know the routine. It even feels comforting. If it’s communion Sunday, you go down to the altar to kneel and partake of the elements---approaching from the center aisle and returning to our pew using the side aisle. There are also kneeling benches in each pew, though I never remember using them.

You can still count on always saying the Apostle’s Creed---printed in the back of the hymnal, if you need it. Back then, everyone I knew recited it. In the old Cokesbury hymnal I remember using, you found the Doxology on page 1. Again, no one used the hymnal---everyone just knew it. I wonder if my grandchildren know that “liturgical formula of praise to God?” I’m sure singing praises in unison must be sweet music to the Lord’s ears.

Praise God from whom all blessing flow.
Praise Him all creature here below.
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts.
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. A-men

I loved the Ah-h-h-h men part which they would drag out.
Doxology-Greek for praise---
Doxa, glory and honor, with logos, speech.

Why am I thinking about The Doxology? (You probably wonder that about a lot of things I write.)

I have learned in the last few months that those verses, hymns and even creeds become more than words of “rote” memory. Those words are foundational and they (especially those of praise) come back in times of trial and suffering. Praise should inhabit our hearts---whether our prayers are answered or not, whether we are in the midst of seemingly “cruel” circumstances or we are truly in a joyful state. You see, I have learned that joy and suffering are not separate entities---they can both inhabit a grateful heart at the same time. Praise God for whatever has brought you to the present moment, good, bad or just commonplace/ordinary. When we offer praise to God during these dark, hard times, it’s “to whisper a doxology in the darkness.” (Brennan Manning)

"In the Garden"

4/2/09 Garden of the Heart
Remember the old hymn, “In the Garden?” It was my grandmother’s favorite and a standard at funerals. It’s what first came to mind this morning as I was reading Jesus Calling. I loved the analogy of comparing our hearts to a garden.

I come to the garden alone—solitude is great for reflection
While the dew is still on the roses---first thing in the morning is a good time to open your heart to hear from the Lord
And the voice I hear---His voice, though not audible, can be “heard” when we attune our hearts to His
Falling on my ear---silence aids listening
The Son of God disposes----not sure of the best verb definition here—maybe a combo says it best—He inclines me to be willing to see things from His perspective---putting His view in place in my heart thus settling matters (of the heart)

When I think of a garden, words like tranquil, serene and quiet seem to be descriptive of such a place. How about your/my heart? Could those adjectives be used for our hearts? How does one find that quietude necessary to hear the “still small voice.” We certainly have to be free of the gripping distractions of the world. A lot of us need practice in this area. As Corrie Ten Boom prays, “Father tune our ears to your still small voice…”

3/16 entry in God Calling (gift I received today) summed up what God must think. “I wait in many a heart, but so few retire into that inner place of the being to commune with me.”

Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still and know that I am God.” In the Hebrew “be still” is the idea of hearing someone without them even speaking. Have you ever heard someone’s heart? I have. It was during a time of crisis. Neither of us said a word but as we hugged, my heart heard her heart.

Remember the words listen and silent have the same letters. We need to be silent so that we can hear from Him. Too often in our quiet times you and I just jump right in with our petitions. The essence of being still is more of an opening of our heart to commune with Him. As this happens, we will desire more of Him and with that desire we will receive more of Him. Then we will have ears to hear. Like Samuel we can say, “Speak Lord, for your servant is listening.” (1Samuel 3:10) We, too, will become more attentive in His presence and then be more willing to “plant” His truths in the garden of our hearts.

avoiDANCE

4/1/09
I am a wuss—a real weakling when it comes to pain. I prefer no pain of any kind whether physical, mental or emotional. No pain no gain is my least favorite phase, especially in exercise. Sometimes my mental pain is self-inflicted from the stress that I wear when striving for perfection---usually at the last minute or in a crisis.

Emotional pain---that’s the biggie for me. I don’t like to have my feelings hurt. I don’t want to hurt someone else’s feelings either.
For many years, I tried to control this aspect of pain in my life by avoiding deep relationships. Give me lots of fun. Yes! Intimate moments. No!

avoiDANCE was my silent mantra. That tune I listened to in my head became the song I danced to in my life. You see, in the dance of avoiDANCE, you are in control or so you think. I became enveloped in this sin of self-protection. I didn’t even know that self-protection was a sin until my eyes were opened to the fact that putting self above God and others is indeed sin. God has created us for relationship—with Him and with others. Being self-protective, I built walls in relationships. I didn’t allow others to get too close for fear of rejection and more hurt. During those years, I choreographed my own dance---the avoiDANCE in each new relationship. That way, I felt safe and in control. My partner was just an extension of myself—so I was less likely to get “stepped on.”

In my relationship with the Lord there was a distance as well. I wanted all the rights of being His child with none of the responsibilities. I knew that God could use struggles to teach us truth but I preferred my daily quiet times and ministry opportunities that could be checked off a list---more of a routine and ritual rather than an intimate relationship with Him. I wanted Him on my terms. I wanted Him for blessings---those warm, fuzzy Hallmark happy ending kind. I didn’t know that God’s blessing embraced both pleasure and pain.

I no longer view pain in quite the same way---though I still struggle with the fear of it. As I sought to know Him better, He tore down my “self created” pedestal of loving others half way and esteeming people and their opinions of me more than His truth. Along with my fantasies of a perfect life, He threw out the remaining crumbles of those life supports that I had held too long. He replaced them with more of Himself and I began the season of abunDANCE with Him. I come that you (Dotsy) might have life and have it with abunDANCE. (John 10:10--a paraphrase) That avoiDANCE of Him or others is lonely and empty---a dance you do virtually alone. I prefer Dancing with Jesus.

Today’s Jesus Calling entry was the perfect reminder of all this. I can talk with Him about every “aspect of (my) day including feelings.” He created me as an emotional, relational being---one with feelings. It’s okay to “feel.” Don’t shut down emotions out of fear. “Do not let your to-do list (written or mental) become an idol directing your life.” Don’t let the fantasy of a perfect life creep back into your mindset. That unfound list for thank you notes is not the end of the world, Dotsy.

“Ask my Spirit to guide you moment by moment.” Sounds like an invitation to come back to the dance, doesn’t it?

Come back, Dotsy, He says again and again. Dance with Me. No avoiDANCE of time with Me is allowed. Remember----Our dance is one of abunDANCE.

Daffodils

3/31/09 "Daffodils"

Remember the Wordsworth poem when the poet “wandered lonely as a cloud” and came upon a “crowd…of golden daffodils?” They were fluttering and dancing (natch!) in the breeze---it seemed like 10,000 as those daffodils “tossed their heads in sprightly dance.”
Even the dancing waves couldn’t out do the daffodils.

My mother loved daffodils. Even as a youngster I knew when spring was coming because of the crocus, grape hyacinths and daffodils that began to bloom around our steps and walkways and how that thrilled Mother’s heart. I tried to add to that joy once by “raiding” Dr. Dade’s yard of his award winning King Alfred’s and proudly presenting these prize daffodils to her. The chagrin on her face was a big clue that my procurement, though well intended, was VERY inappropriate. “Young lady, you will take these back to Dr. Dade right this minute and tell him you’re sorry! Never take something that doesn’t belong to you. Do you understand me?” Not sure of her exact words, I just know that she didn’t monkey around with soothing my ego or worry about damaging my psyche----I just knew I’d better not ever do that again.

As I said, Mother loved daffodils. Actually, she, as her mother, (Mama Davenport) loved all flowers. It seemed we always had fresh flowers at 2211 South Virginia. I never remember her running out to the nursery to buy bulbs or plants----certainly no Lowe’s garden centers back then. I just remember that she exchanged Sweet William, pinks and other “slips” (plant cuttings) with her friends, especially those in the Tuesday Club. So, I grew up with hollyhocks as tall as I was, a cutting garden that produced baby’s breath, and a mom tolerant of a daughter with a brown thumb. My only interest was in wildflowers--may apple, trilliums and jack-in- the-pulpit, so she helped me nurture those under the big “messy” mulberry tree.

Last Sunday when we were in Kentucky, Larry drove Daddy and me out to Riverside Cemetery to “visit” Mother. The afternoon was gray and chilly almost dreary---not like the sunny mornings I spent watching Mother tend her flowers those many years ago. Even though there were limbs and scattered blossoms and even overturned pots that had been strewn about from the recent storm and hail, my focus was elsewhere. I saw two clumps of daffodils BLOOMING at Mother’s grave---the grave of a mother who put a houseful of love and family, friends, fun and fresh flowers “in her dash." (Remember the importance of that dash on one's gravestone----the only part of life a person controls!)
“Her children rise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her.” (Proverbs 31:28)

Mildred Davenport Adams
12/10/22 - 8/13/01

These were not 10,000 golden daffodils as Wordsworth had seen, or any as spectacular as Dr. Dade’s, but these white daffodils were from MY yard----Mother thought green and white were cool and serene and were the only colors she ever had in the planters along the walkways at the front of our house. I had dug those bulbs last fall from around my front walk and carefully carried them to Kentucky to plant on either end of her headstone---just hoping they would make it. They did. Fresh flowers just like she likes----

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils. (Wordsworth, 1804)

Memorial Service

3/30/09 Bob’s Memorial Service

In memory of
Robert Eugene Hardick
(husband of Diane Sivells Hardick)
1939-2009

May his family know God’s peace and love and may his “coin” ministry continue to bear fruit. To God be the glory!

“…Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord…” (Rev. 14:13)

Mom in Kentucky

3/29/09
Mom will not "post" for a few days. She is in Kentucky celebrating Grandaddy Brud's clear margins and mourning with her dear friend, Diane, the loss of her hubby. (Eccles. 3:1,4)

ALA

3/28/09 Remembering.......................

Allyson Leigh Adams
3/28/1977-10/7/1995

My precious, beautiful niece would have been 32 today. She is the real dancer in the family and now lives forever with “The Lord of the Dance.”

DAY OF REST

3/27/09 Homecoming--it might be brief but already has been blessed. 

Arrived greeted by “Welcome Home” balloons on mailbox, yellow ribbons around trees and pink roses w/ “Dotsy” ribbon sitting on the kitchen table, lots of hugs, cards, soup, calls and visits----love feels so good. 

Stayed in pjs all day as this became a day of rest---I spent all day easing into my day and decided not to feel guilty about it as I am now about to ease into bed for a long night’s rest…..knowing true rest comes from Him. 

• Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him. (Psalm 37:7) 
• Return to your rest, O my soul, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you. (Psalm 116:7) 
• One hand full of rest is better than two fists full of labor and striving after wind. (Ecclesiastes 4:6)
•  …..and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is, and walk in it: and you will find rest for your souls (Jeremiah 6:16) 
•  “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOUR SOULS. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." (Matt. 11:27-30) 
• In peace I will both lie down and sleep, For You alone, O LORD, make me to dwell in safety. (Psalm 4:8) 

 Goodnight.

Wedding Dance

Date Unknown-until 1 hour ago The Wedding Dance

Remember the Western Union telegrams of old---those yellow paper messages with short snippets that were delivered (stop)---sometimes by a kid on a bike(stop)? I think they were a precursor for text messages. They were “pithy grabbers” of sorts. I even have a file of pithy grabbers b/c I love them---saying lots w/ few words---like poetry, concise but full of meaning. TP, a caringbridge blogger & CD, an author, gave me the idea---the one my Molly enters in the blog will be based on the outcome of my surgeries.

If I return to Memphis---and I am coming home today.

Coming home STOP
Put out my dancing shoes STOP
The Lord and I are dancing to a new song STOP
We’ll never stop!!

Coming home to dance at Halle & Kyle’s wedding---MAC was not the last dance for me.

Royal Encounters

3/25/09 Day in the life of a “one-anothered” woman………..
Breakfast in bed is a delightful way to begin the day. Larry serves me each morning with his little inventive “pasteboard” box with a little edge to keep the “colorful” syringe choices of the day from rolling off. It’s not exactly the inlaid variety of a Babcock’s bed tray that he serves me on, but it gets the job done. Larry lays the linen---no doilies available---using a paper towel with the colorful music staff & that’s a nice touch. He tries to fill syringes ahead of time to expedite the time. There’s always one syringe for tea, one for juice and one for the “mush” of the day---usually cream of wheat with a side of applesauce. Now if I could just think of a way to getMary Flo’s coconut cake into a syringe---hm-m-m a cuppa and a piece of cake, that’s my kind of breakfast-----'cause believe me, that lady is some kind of baker!

This morning after breakfast, Larry and I strolled down to Snider Plaza and had an encounter w/ US “royalty.” Our first indication was the Secret Service guy, with his swivel neck & that “CIA look” standing by the cattycornered SUV (w/inside blinking lights) guarding/blocking the silver Suburban at the Snider/Rosedale corner. Laura Bush was also at Snider’s Plaza---you have to love her, she’s a librarian. Larry and I were the only folks out and she waved to us as she was escorted to her car. I used “signing” to signal that I pray for her (‘cause I did every Sat. the Bushes were in office) and she waved again from the window. I actually had my camera out so I snapped and you can just barely see her hand in the back window. It might be as fuzzy as a UFO photo but I know I had my encounter. (9:58 am CST)

Lunched later at little restaurant whose name beckoned me. “Food from Galilee” is just a stone’s throw from the Ridley’s home. Mary Flo said it had been there since her SMU days so we decided to check it out. Great choice because they had a Verminelli soup. (their spelling, not mine) It had finely chopped parsley, tomatoes and broth and small bits of vermicelli noodles—which went right up my straw b/c the cook added extra broth to help me out. Maybe the piped in music added to the ambience as well---think belly dance MUZAK!

The choice was even better because the setting in this almost sparse, unassuming place of wooden square tables for two with light wood chairs, was thought provoking. Faded botanical photos of almond blossoms as well as irises that grow only in the mossy area around Tiberius hung alongside large poster prints of Jerusalem and the Sea of Galilee.

Perusing the menu of Middle Eastern cuisine choices, I saw the “mensa” or hors d’ oeuvres of kubbi, sambosa---lots of stuff with bulgur wheat, lamb, tahini sauce and grape leaves---and wondered if Jesus dined on such fare as he ministered in the area of Galilee/Jerusalem, the center/cradle of both Judaism and Christianity. Maybe He dined on the small fish from the Sea of Galilee, which have provided sustenance for its fishermen for many years---just like the ones in the miracle of the loaves and the fishes.

The Sea of Galilee---Israel’s largest freshwater lake (Sea of Gennesirit or YamKinneret in the Hebrew) is also noted for sudden squalls or storms and that’s when I got out my journal.
MAC was a sudden storm in my life that came quickly and felt very threatening. The story of Simon (Peter), his brother Andrew and James and John from Matthew 8:23-27 was similar. They were out on the Sea of Galilee with the Lord and He was peacefully asleep when a squall seemed to quickly arise with great fury. “A great (shaking) storm shook the disciples” so that it caused them to call out to the Lord---“we are perishing.” Obviously they had forgotten who was in the boat with them. Jesus rebuked both them and the wind. “Why so timid you men of little faith?” The wind and waves became calm. I wonder how the disciples must have felt at their own “lack of faith?” Before questioning their actions remember unbelief can slip forth in an instant, in all our lives. “I believe. God help thou my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)

I needed to always remember the royalty whom I encountered at age 13—the One who was and still is in the “boat” with me. I, too, thought of "perishing" from the MAC surgery that was ahead. I don’t think I ever forgot who was in the boat with me---I just saw death as a possibility. But it was so important to remember, “I know the One” who can rebuke the wind of any of life’s storms if He so chooses. The winds and the waves obey Him---pretty profound, eh?