Brenda’s Blog – December 2, 2025

Growing up watching TV in the 1950’s meant 3 stations in black and white with a sign-off accompanied by the national anth6em and a “test pattern” indicating that was all the TV until the next day.

We had our favorite shows which came on for weekly… No streaming and seeing TV any hour of the day. A weekly publication came in the Sunday newspaper with the TV schedule. If you were a true fan you would subscribe to the TV Guide which was delivered to your house in the mail… that was “big time!”

During the 60’s our choices expanded. We traded in Kukla, Fran, and Ollie and Howdy Doody for Queen for a Day and Perry Mason.

The lawyer who was the impetus for increased law school recruitment pulled a rabbit out of his legal hat week after week. We all had faith in his ability to dramatically prove his client innocent while exposing the true perpetrator simultaneously. No one ever beat Perry Mason!

The weekly opponent was the prosecutor, Hamilton Burger. Every time Mason would make a provocative statement Burger would rise to shout out, “I object… that is incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial!” The writers loved to spur him to this mantra-like expression.

Those of us who follow Jesus live in a world that is adversarial. When we share our beliefs we often get a spirited “incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial!” as the response. Those of us who hold to the doctrines of the Bible are often demeaned. Our positions on the authority of scripture and trust in Jesus as the only way of salvation are ostracized. But like Perry Mason, our God has the answers. Vindication is His as is the triumph. The true “perp” is exposed and judged for his evil doing. The enemy of our souls is relegated to forever judgment and punishment.

Television entertained us, but the Lord God Almighty brings revelation and forever… all in living color!

Brenda’s Blog – November 18, 2025

My friend, Becky, was a champion, a hero, a faith-walker. She had cancer, but cancer didn’t have her. Support groups, teal ribbons on the campus of Baylor Hospital, and young Moms encouraged by talks – all these were brought to life by her. What motivated her? 1) Her belief in the Lord Jesus Christ; 2) Her belief in a God-given purpose; and 3) Her belief in HOPE… not ordinary lower case hope, but HOPE.

She once ended a speech to a group at Baylor Hospital with a resounding HOPE, HOPE, HOORAY!! That was the way she lived. She taught all of us to treasure each day and spend each hour doing what we are called to do.

Years ago during the age of the Tea Party I joined friends in attending gatherings to stimulate interest in lower taxes and smaller government. We fervently wrote letters, hosted neighborhood get-togethers and created clever hand-lettered posterboards.

One evening I decided to express my deeply held conviction that the darkness was overtaking the American culture. Perhaps I still do, but on this evening I felt it necessary to lay my case before my son and his wife, parents of my newest grandchild. They listened then deftly changed the subject. But before closing the conversation my son left me with one statement, “Mom, we love you and we appreciate your concern. If things are going to get worse as you believe then we ask you to help us hope.” It was nearly 17 years ago those words still stir my heart.

Becky understood the power of hope. My son understood the need for hope.

Hope is part of our job description as believers in Jesus. We are to exhibit the boldness and courage which can only fully be seen through Him. He gives us peace when all we have are pieces. He gives us strength when all we experience is the storm. He shows a way when “there seems to be no way,” as Don Moen wrote.

A smile, a kind word, an encouraging text, or even an uplifting comment on Facebook can bring hope. A “song in the night” via an email can change dread into eagerness. Let’s be hope givers who practice the fine art wherever we go. Opportunities are abundance. Hope is always welcome.

Brenda’s Blog – November 4, 2025

The old man looked up and said, “People look at me and think ‘has been,’ but I know that my life has been full and I truly “has been.”
In retirement many move to new communities with resources and amenities designed for the aging process. New friends, new experiences, and new locations bring opportunities, but also separate from memories and histories. Often not until we read obituaries do we truly grasp the stories and accomplishments of residents.

Job presents an excellent example of looking back and summarizing a lifetime. He stands and recalls the position he held as counselor, guide, and provider. He outlines the leadership roles and the reputation he had as an elder worthy of respect.

Looking at him sitting on the ground scraping his infected skin, no one would guess at his history, would they?

Recently I read a bio of an acquaintance and was stunned. The accomplishments were startling; the achievements were those of a renowned professional. Yet, this man is now disabled, with physical limitations which hide everything that bio revealed. His cognitive disorder denies him the ability to engage with others. That sterling bio describes someone none of us ever knew.

He has a background which very few rival. He truly “has been,” but time and bad health leave him with so little to share with others.

When we see others, let’s stop to listen to their stories, especially the elderly. Their experiences, their wisdom, their journey has much to offer us. We have much to learn from them. We need their stories; we need their knowledge. We, too, will one day be a “has been,” but God has given us lessons from Him which will strengthen and encourage.

Brenda’s Blog – October 7, 2025

Attention, Please!

“K-mart shoppers! Your attention, please. For the next 30 minutes there will be a ‘blue light special’ on aisle 3!” Those words would send people scurrying to see what bargains awaited them on aisle 3.

Camp directors hold up their hands with three fingers lifted to indicate campers have to the count of three to get quiet. In a leadership retreat recently, the host was a retired camp director who simply held up his hand to signal the break was over – all the non-profit executive directors and board members immediately responded.

Teachers flip the lights off and on to gain control and indicate all eyes are to be up front and all conversation is to end.

When I was a teenager and a date would last too long in the driveway (according to my Mom), the porch light would begin its “you better get out of that car and get in this house” routine. She knew how to get my attention (and probably that of my puzzled date).

In Luke 9 the doctor tells the story of being on the mountain with Jesus and experiencing the appearance of Moses and Elijah who joined Jesus. Peter was exhilarated. You could almost see him in his holy extroversion jumping around. “Let’s make tents for them!” Scripture says, “Peter didn’t know what he was saying.” Can’t you just see the fisherman babbling on and on?

What happens then? God speaks from a cloud which descended on them. “This is my Son, my Chosen One, listen to him!” In the South we would say, “Hush, Peter, God is talking to you!”

How does God get our attention? We don’t audibly hear Him as He speaks to us in a cloud. But His Word is powerful, intentional, and indeed purposeful. We can hear Him saying to us, “Be quiet, be still” in Psalm 46. We can read of the turbulent waves obeying Jesus as He instructs them to settle down. Our choppy waters are under His control.

And doesn’t He click lights on and off sometimes when we are wandering? The work of the Spirit gives nudges and sometimes not-so-gentle corrections to lead us to repentance. And especially in those times when we get too sure of ourselves and get ahead of Him, we recognize His revectoring.

The heavenly whistle blows and we line up if we are listening. The Word reorders our messy lives if we will only look to His plan. “Listen to Him!” Our loving heavenly Father calls us to obedience knowing true life is only in following Him.

Brenda’s Blog – September 23, 2025

“Growing older is not the closing act. It can be the most exquisite chapter – if you let yourself bloom again.” These words from British actress Patricia Routledge at age 95 reminded me of an article written by my Dad. His attitude on aging continues to teach me as I am now heading toward 82. Insurance companies tell me 81 is my life expectancy.

That is just an actuarial statistic. Life in those years is a gift from God; living those years is a choice made by each individual. Every believer in Jesus I know uses a familiar phrase: “finishing well.” This means running the race with grace and hope, knowing our days are numbered by the Almighty God.

Several years ago I started thinking about the rhythm of life. A prominent female executive challenged me to analyze my career and recognize the pattern. Her study showed a 5 year career template. She outlined it for me. “Every five years I have made a serious, consequential career move. It didn’t necessarily mean changing companies, just responsibilities and direction.”

That intrigued me, so I began a search of my own. It was put on hold for decades, but as I turned 70, I sat down and figured out my life had a 21 year rhythm. I broke the years down 1-21, 22-43, 44-65, and 66-present. I put one word or phrase next to each category. Then I broke each into sub-categories of 7(+ or -) years to further study each group. When I completed the analysis, I looked at the final group (known as the present) to create a game plan for finishing well. (If you want more details on this life exercise, just email me Brendaasmith@aol.com)

Patricia Routledge’s words: “Let these years ahead be your ‘treasured years.’ You don’t need to be famous. You don’t need to be flawless. You only need to show up – fully – for the life that is still yours. With love and gentleness.”
With God’s grace and mercy I will live out the final season of 21 years. With the faithful witness of those who have gone ahead of us, and with the hope of running well, older, but never old will be my testimony. I will be the woman God created me to be, using the gifts He gave to bring glory to Himself and blessing to all.

Brenda’s Blog – September 9, 2025

“Wasn’t that a beautiful service? I took notes.”

I chuckled as I overheard the elevator conversation between two “golden agers.” We had all attended the memorial service of a prominent member of our community.

Recently, some of my coffee time friends and I laughed about the cycle of life. “When our girls were younger, I took notes on weddings adding ideas for theirs when the time came. As I sat in a memorial service last year I thought, “Oh, I would like that for my service.” I guess most of us are planners to the end – and beyond.

A friend said she reads obituaries for ideas. She jots down phrases which fit into her “picture perfect” last words for the back page of the program whose layout is a “best of” collection.

“Curated” is a word which describes the gathering of items, ideas, furniture, and even groups. At this stage of life it aptly describes the way we prepare for the way we are presented to those left behind. “I want to make sure my service, my obituary, and all the arrangements are just what I want. I don’t want anyone else deciding how it should be done.” As if she is going to be sitting on the front row!

Very few of the residents of my community grew up here (nor did I). Our friendships began at retirement age. We know little of their life stories, accomplishments, and journeys until we read the obituaries. “I wish I had known him/her when they were younger. I had no idea of those stories.” How much we missed.

Capturing a lifetime in a few expensive newspaper paragraphs is impossible. But it does cause us to think carefully about what really matters. What do we want people to know, remember, or understand? Where are the important steps and starts? Where are the points of grace?

Let’s think about those answers.

Brenda’s Blog – August 26, 2025

“Mommy’s outside having her Jesus minutes.”

As a young married with a toddler daughter, our Sunday School at First Baptist Church, Nashville, was a lifeline. Our teachers were an “older couple” in their late 30s who shepherded us well. How we loved them!

One afternoon I stopped by their house for a short shot of encouragement. When the front door opened, their nine year old daughter smiled and told me, “Mommy’s outside having her Jesus minutes.” I knew her source of strength, so I thanked the precious daughter and left. I never ever forgot that sweet answer to “Is your Mommy home?”

It makes me think about the minutes of my days. If someone comes to my door, what would they find? “Brenda is having her TV minutes… Brenda is having her Facebook minutes… Brenda is having her finding the last piece of chocolate minutes… Or, even Brenda is having her missing her family minutes, and yes, Brenda is having her Jesus minutes.”

Studies keep telling us how our brains are being affected by hours of screen absorption. It reminds me of what Scripture tells us. The transformation of our character is activated by our thoughts. What we see, read, think about, and talk about are foundational to our character.

Time matters. The more minutes (hours) we devote to an endeavor, the more it affects the outcome. As children, we were directed to invest time, not spend it, because it was a non-replenishable resource. How we choose to invest our days is a predictor of what the years will hold. When we look at our calendars we glimpse our values, and our life patterns.

In this fast-paced culture it is easy to speed through day by day without stopping to audit the use of that time. Making the most of the time God has designed for us is a stewardship. Learning to make minutes grow into days of contribution and value comes through watchcare.

May each of us stay faithful.

Brenda’s Blog – August 12, 2025

“Not my fault, not my fault, not my fault!” Four year old son Jeff was mumbling to himself as I walked through the den. I stopped to make sure I was hearing his repeated chant. “Jeff, what are you saying?” “I am practicing for the next time the girls blame me something I didn’t do.”

Having two older sisters often put him in precarious situations. The concept of personal responsibility had not fully matured in the girls’ characters, so Jeff was an easy target.

An unspeakably horrible catastrophe has literally inundated much of central Texas – a flood which has taken hundreds of lives. Reporters are saying that many of the missing will never be recovered as they are buried under tons of river sludge, and debris.

The first response was truly Texas Strong – thousands of volunteers covered the miles of devastation searching for any sign of life – and painfully recovering those whose lives were taken by this tragedy.

But way too soon voices seemed to rise above prayer and singing – the voices of recrimination and the ugliness of finger pointing. “Who is to blame?” was a constant theme on newscasts. “They caused this by their political policies.” Or, the detestable, horrid statement: “They deserved to die because they voted for such and such.”

It is as if a group had prepared for “such a time as this’ with their accusations, vitriol, and hatefulness were primed and ready. Too many are incapable of accepting the responsibility of civility. Too many have the assignment of blame as their default social response.

“How can we help? How can we provide comfort and care? How can we show the grace and love to Jesus?”

When we were young (and still immaturely eager to find fault) our Mom would remind us “Remember, when you point a finger at someone else there are four pointing back at yourself.’

Scripture teaches us to bear one another’s burdens, to have compassionate hearts, and pray diligently. That is what people should hear us practicing as they pass by.

Brenda’s Blog – July 29, 2025

As a kindergartener in Cincinnati, Ohio I attended Westwood Elementary School in Mrs. Preston’s class. To celebrate birthdays the teacher would take the student out of the room, returning with a crepe paper streamer which was tied in a big bow on the back of the child’s chair. Having a March birthday gave me months to anticipate “my big day!” I knew exactly what I wanted – a PINK STREAMER.

The day came; Mrs. Preston came to my chair and invited me to follow her. Out in the hall she opened a closet which held a large round cardboard container overflowing with streamers of every color. I knew what I wanted, but to my horror – I couldn’t see a pink one. I just froze. Then the life-changing words came from Mrs. Preston’s mouth: “Brenda, for goodness sake, just PICK ONE!” I reached in an pulled out a PURPLE one. IT WAS NOT PINK! I had waited for six months to sit in a chair dressed in a PINK streamer with a big bow.

The rest of the day went by and I tried hard to ignore the “offending crepe paper” wrapped around my chair.

Fast forward many years… I stopped by Dallas to visit with my parents on my way to speak in Kansas City to a women’s group. In organizing my message by talking it through with Dad this long-ago forgotten experience in Mrs. Preston’s classroom, it became clear my theme became “don’t settle.”

Quickly, decades flashed through my mind of settling because of fear, pressure, or hearing “For goodness sake, Brenda!” Serious decisions, simple choices, or life-altering actions – all affected by settling in order to please others, take the easy way out, or fail to take the time and make the necessary effort.

Back home in Des Moines, IA, I prepared to leave. The mailman delivered a large envelope. I opened it and found an entire cellophane-wrapped sheaf of crepe paper… INK CREPE PAPER! Attached was a small piece of paper with just these words “Don’t settle!”

Yes, from Dad.

The next day as I told my story and added illustrations to build out the principle I passed around the roll of crepe paper with a pair of scissors encouraging each women to cut herself a piece as a reminder.

Dad has been in heaven since 2007, but his words live on nearly 20 years later.

Brenda’s Blog – July 15, 2025

The elevator door opened to the large convention crowd who rushed in and immediately took a vow of silence. That is, until the door reopened and a woman stepped into the car. In the far back a voice was heard addressed to the newcomer: “You look like one of the presenters”… no response. We arrived at the lobby and the door opened. For just a moment the latecomer held the door back and said, “I do look like the presenter… Because I am her!”

It was an enjoyable moment in the middle of a highly-scheduled, people-packed conference.

I thought about it and wondered…who do I remind others of? What do they see in the way I speak, dress, walk, smile, treat others, or as my Mom would say “carry myself?”

On Father’s Day I posted my favorite photo off my Dad done on his 90th birthday by the premier photographer, David Edmondson. A friend mentioned it to me by saying, “I didn’t know your Dad but you look just like him.” I often want to say, “What of him do you see in me?” It could be our distinctive “Smith nose,” or our high foreheads, perhaps. Of course, I want it to be the eyes which reflect his wisdom, kindness, and intensity.

A Christian organization once named a building after Dad and commissioned a sculptor to do a bust of him for the foyer. I received a call from the group saying the sculptor just couldn’t get his nose right from the photographs but heard mine was just like his and would I go to his studio and sit while he finished? Accompanying my nose to the sitting was an interesting and intriguing experience.

As children of the living God we have the joy of bearing His name and identity – hallelujah. When others say, “you look like a Christian you can respond… yes, I do, because I am.” Yay, God!