Brenda’s Blog – February 11, 2020

“Love is free; Divorce is Expensive; Choose Wisely”

I laughed as I read the billboard sponsored by a local law firm in Arkansas.

Yes, it caught my eye. Yes, it made me remember. And yes, it made me think about the consequences of decision making. Emotional actions establish patterns which often have long-lasting and costly reactions.

A dear friend of mine left this earth for heaven several weeks ago. His influence lives on. One of the lessons he taught is the value of H.A.L.T. The way he phrased it is burned into my consciousness. Let me share it with you, hoping to give you the help he gave me.

“When you are preparing to make a life-altering decision, HALT! In other words, never make a life-altering decision if you are Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired.”

I am rarely hungry (I am always prepared with a snack), but I can recite times when anger, loneliness, and exhaustion provided an atmosphere for bad decisions. The impulse to take control rises under those conditions – the drive to DO SOMETHING outweighs the ability to fully consider consequences.

That is the time to consider the cost of impulsive action. Wisdom says “Wait” when emotion says “Go.”
The billboard made me smile; HALT protects me from great mistakes.

Brenda’s Blog – January 28, 2020

“Convenience with no commitment” was the tag line for the movie theater club program. The promo showed all the benefits of paying $8.99 per month for the listed privileges. Finally, the screen filled with those words: “Convenience with no commitment.” Some marketing genius certainly took the pulse of the buying public.

Sadly, that is the tag line for too much of our culture, isn’t it? A social scientist years ago observed major changes can occur by appealing to two factors: comfort and convenience. We will actually give up our freedoms when driven by these two. It is a subtle transaction, but effective. We buy products which are not only new and improved, but provide ease. We hand over the keys to our lives for comfort. Hardship is not cool!

As we begin a new year, perhaps we can stop, do an evaluation of our values, and reassess the importance comfort and convenience play.
The second part of that phrase is unsettling – creating discomfort for me. “No commitment.” Decades ago Glen Campbell sang of the freedom he felt because no “ink stains on a piece of paper” kept him in the relationship. His bedroll stashed behind the couch was a testament to his love for her because she didn’t tie him down. As a “woman of years” I have a simple analysis of this philosophy: HOGWASH!

Until we plant our flag and say like Martin Luther, “Here I stand – I can do no other” we are still children. It takes courage, endurance, and tenacity to boldly persevere. This is true for relationships, jobs, community volunteer efforts, and even hobbies. Gladwell wrote about developing expertise saying it takes a minimum of 10,000 hours to gain mastery of a subject or skill. Imagine how many it takes to forge a healthy, lifelong relationship.

Deep roots are required for tall trees. A subterranean hole as deep as the building is high is necessary for skyscrapers. Commitment which stays the course is a critical element for maturity.

May we exchange “convenience with no commitment” for a true and lasting adherence to standing firm, even when it is uncomfortable, inconvenient, and just downright disagreeable, knowing the reward is great.
At the end of the first month, here’s wishing you “Happy 2020.”

“When we did that I knew we were old.”

My son in law told me of standing over the newly purchased washer mesmerized, watching through the acrylic lid as the clothes agitated. They paused, laughed, and knew they weren’t 25 year olds anymore.

I love to ask people when they first realized they were aging. Top of the list is usually, “When a young person called me ma’am or sir.” That is a startling rite (or wrong) of passage. Or, how about being given the senior discount without asking!

Last week my daughter and son in law hosted a dinner at my house. I proudly presented a stack of Christmas CDs after digging through many boxes. She graciously ignored my efforts as she quietly said, “Alexa, play Christmas music!” YIKES!

At church last night an energetic young staffer conversed with two of the deacons. “I retired in 2001.” Quickly, the youth worker responded, “I graduated from high school in 2001.” “Wow! That makes me feel old was the deacon’s response.”

Those are outward evidences we have turned more calendar pages than most, but “feeling old” is not the same as chronological age. “How old do you feel?” is a question I enjoy asking my 65+ friends. Rarely do I hear someone response “I feel every day of my 70 years.” Or, “I feel ten years older than my age.” Quite the contrary. Most of us put a pin at a point 5 to 10 years younger than the sundial reads.
Dad used to say, “I cannot stop getting older, but I can certainly refuse to get old.”

We can be told by the culture we aren’t riding in the fast lane, but we aren’t being flagged off the course quite yet.

Psalm 71 records David’s request for years enough to tell the next generation about the strength, mighty acts, and greatness of God. He didn’t ask for years of idleness, or total leisure. He sought time to speak to the next generation. We aren’t finished – we are still in the race with a clear purpose.

Okay, when I am told “nobody carries sacred sheet music anymore,” I can smile remembering the delightful hours of exploring music stores, but recognizing “time marches on.” When a kind person offers an arm when walking up a hill, I can accept the help knowing there is an agile young woman inside who is enjoying the assistance.

Aging is a privilege. At age 85 Caleb asked God for years to conquer a mountain in the Promised Land. Let’s carefully consider our requests. What is your mountain? What is your testimony to the next generation? The world may look askance at us, but little do they know what lies behind that gray hair!

Brenda’s Blog – December 31, 2019

“Ma’am, I have the old washer and dryer out. You may want to take this opportunity to sweep up before I bring the new ones in.”

“Take the opportunity…” What a smooth way to let me know there was 12 years of dust, dirt, and unclaimed socks on the floor. It made me think about the ways I could apply his suggestion.

What else could use a broom and mop? Not just around my house, but in my life. Yes, there are closets, cabinets, and shelves that need scrubbing. There are boxes of craft supplies that need to be moved on to grandchildren or community centers. I realized recently I cannot possibly live long enough to use all the plastic cups (in every possible color) I have accumulated.

Looking at “stuff” is the easy part. Transitioning to habits and life patterns is a tougher assignment. I began running an inventory of values. How loyal am I to Jesus? How faithful am I to following scripture? What captures my imagination? When do I find time for family, church, and community?

Then the broom in my hand starts to create a blister. What about looking at the way I spend my time, my money, and my energy? I used to say anyone could get a clear view of who I am if they could see my bank book, look at my mail, and review my day planner. Funny, how times have changed… no bank books, very little snail mail, and definitely no leather-bound day planner. But the analysis still stands with different online measurements!

The old adage “a new broom sweeps clean” still intrigues me. After cleaning up 12 years of washer and dryer litter, a new broom is on the shopping list.

The joy of God’s grace is in experiencing the freedom to take His opportunities to bring all the muck and mire to Him. He creates within us a clean heart. The appliance man had no idea where his kind suggestion would lead me this afternoon, but I am ever so grateful.

Brenda’s Blog – December 17, 2019

I distinctly remember the first time a younger person addressed me as “ma’am.” It struck me – what are they saying? “I recognize you are deserving of respect?” Or, “you look like you need assistance.” Or, even worse – “I need to be useful to that old woman!” YIKES.

Last month my younger sister and I traveled with a Bible study tour to Turkey and Greece. The instructions clearly stated, “Be prepared to walk up to 5 miles a day.” Of course, I could do that. I had no doubts whatsoever.

But “walking 5 miles a day” and hiking up and down ancient ruins and racing up steps to enter the Acropolis before it closed are not within that definition for me. I realized I have moved well past the ma’am stage to downright “Here, take my arm.” Quite a stunning moment.

In raising children I enjoyed watching their developmental steps: scooting, crawling, walking, toilet training and the best of all – getting their own breakfast on Saturday so my husband and I could sleep! There is a reverse developmental pattern, as well. But how stunned I was to see I have entered into the downward spiral.

We gladly gave our children assistance as they struggled to achieve the next plateau. I am not so gladly accepting the help so kindly offered as I devolve.

My Dad’s bedbound condition in his last years could have evoked a negative response. But he handled it with poise and humor. Accepting help was done with grace. He told others, “I am not disabled; I am delightfully dependent.”

Aging is both strange and wonderful. Being the object of ministry activity for others is strange; giving others an opportunity to show God’s care is wonderful.

I may not accept this downhill process as graciously as I should, but I will also seek to understand the way God can use this aging believer.

Brenda’s Blog – December 3, 2019

(This is excerpt two from my book Divine Confinement, written during a seven year caregiving period).

“The blood has pooled creating a hematoma. Don’t put pressure on it, don’t pierce it, and it will naturally be absorbed into the body.”

Those were the instructions to Mom and me as she was being discharged from the hospital. But all she could see was a monstrous red mound on her tiny arm. “What happened?” “What caused it?” I think I must have learned cause and effect from this little woman who still searches for who to blame, desperately hoping it isn’t her.

This week Mom was hospitalized for a seizure and Dad had cancer surgery.

Those 13 words are the “what caused it” of my emotional hematoma. No one can see the bulbus gathering, but it is as real as was Mom’s on her hand. “Don’t bang it – don’t prick it – or you will cause damage.” The emotions of this week have pooled in my spirit and I need time to reach equilibrium and reabsorption. In Dr. Swenson’s great book Margin he talks about living in the red zone where we use adrenaline designed for emergencies in our everyday lives. I felt I was living there for way too long.

My emotional thermostat overheated. It is time for some coolant and time for some comfort. Hopefully, it will come through resting, not ingesting. Christ is the answer – not chocolate.

PS In April 2018 I was at Lindsey Wilson College in Columbia, KY with a team from the Breakfast With Fred Leadership Institute. After the evening session I stepped off a curb, went face down into the gravel, and was ungracefully raised up by two strong college professors. Nothing was broken, but my pride was badly bruised.

However, for the next 12 months I watched an enormous hematoma on one knee gradually reabsorb. Over and over I thought about the words I wrote during my caregiving time. This swelling on my knee reminded me again of the process, both physical and emotional.

Brenda’s Blog – November 19, 2019

(Note) In 2005 I published a book titled Divine Confinement: Facing Seasons of Limitation. It was written during a seven year season of mine while my parents lived out their last days in my house. A section of the book was devoted to short personal responses. I called them “Musings and Amusings.” For the next few months I will share some of them as the bi-monthly blogs. Brenda A. Smith’s book is available as a Kindle book on Amazon here.

Divine Confinement

“You must feel confined.”

Just a passing comment, but it scored a direct hit in my soul. Confinement, yes that is exactly what I feel. I am under house arrest. I sit in my office, looking out the window much like Robert Louis Stevenson lay in a childhood bed of sickness, pretending grand and glorious adventures.

Sadly, I often go into an electronic stupor ad overdose on HGTV. But this isn’t a random confinement – this is one appointed by God – this is divine confinement.

I can either continue making chalk marks on the wall denoting time served, or I can see that this is really a learning lab created to mold me into usefulness. Haven’t I been confined before – a marriage gone bad, a broken relationship with a child, a job with no hope of success, an addiction to chocolate and ice cream, a mean and jealous spirit, a wandering heart — weren’t these all confinements?

But how much better to see God’s hand in this and know that He has the key and that He came to set the prisoners free. I won’t be here on day longer than I need to be and in an ironic twist, Mom and Dad won’t be here one day longer than God knows that I need them to be. Who is taking care of whom?

Aren’t they the stuff of which this confinement is made, so aren’t they the stuff of which the divine purpose will be constructed? And then, ultimately they will be my source of freedom for I will learn to trust Him, love them more dearly, and understand freedom is not lack of confinement, but the recognition that it is divine.

Brenda’s Blog – November 5, 2019

“May I take your picture so you can be in it?”

Sitting on the deck overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains at the Billy Graham Training Center (The Cove) I noticed a woman wandering from group to group quietly asking the same question over and over. The happiness she created radiated from faces.

One couple quickly handed over their camera, linked arms, and smiled brightly. Just another picture? NO! As she handed back the camera the wife brushed back tears saying, “Thank you for giving us a picture of each other together.” I later found out her loving husband is active military and this weekend was a rare and badly needed respite. This was not just another picture stored on the phone – this captured a sacred event.

Intrigued, I could not stop observing her movement. Clearly, she had the ministry of service and helps. She saw something that needed to be done and without prompting “went about doing good.”

When our evening session began I noticed her standing by the meeting room door waiting for her companions. I just had to speak. Surprising to me (and to her), I teared up as I thanked her for her ministry to all those on the deck that evening. She was humble as she expressed her reason for doing it. “I just knew they would all rather be in the pictures together rather than leaving one out.” No major ministry strategy… just seeing an opportunity and stepping out.

The next morning she tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Your words about my actions being ministry really touched me. I never thought of it that way, but I so appreciate what you said to me.”

Where have you seen the gift of helps recently? Who sees a need and takes steps to fill it without making the announcement “Attention everybody, I am going to serve now!” Look for the appearance of this gift and then say thank you.

Brenda’s Blog – October 22, 2019

“The trending direction and focus is mediocrity.”

In math class we learned about the lowest common denominator. It was the point where all the fractions could find their happy place – where they all fit. This has now become a social concept. Education became one of the early proponents of its implementation. Finding a way to homogenize learning to make it comfortably available to the majority created a system which flowed downhill. The author Charlotte Iserbyt called it The Deliberate Dumbing Down of America.

Now, another sociologist boldly states that mediocrity is the goal. What does this look like? Perhaps giving trophies to every participant – even if they did not engage in one minute of competition; or, discouraging a grading system that rewards achievement.

We have transitioned from the brutal dog eat dog competition of earlier decades to an attitude which encourages lack of effort. The social drive to eliminate offense has created an order which celebrates the mediocre. Those who “pay the price” are penalized by ostracization. They don’t fit because they make others look deficient.

What does the Bible say about this? Aren’t we to do our work “as unto the Lord?” Would we take on a task for Him and then lay down on the job? Years ago I knew a man who was a well-meaning, but immature Christian. One day I found him sitting on a log outside of the job. “What is going on?” “Well, I am fasting to please God and I am just too tired to work.” “Are you taking their money for the job?” “Yes, but they are Christians and they will understand.” He wasn’t trending toward mediocrity – he had already staked his claim!

Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians spoke strongly to them about working hard and having a good reputation in the community. That is excellence. There was no room for second rate effort.

To have that attitude consistently means swimming uphill. My grandson Colby took his first job in a grocery store fully prepared to work extremely hard. At the end of his first day the other employees came to him, complaining about his work ethic. “You don’t have to work so hard – nobody expects it and you make us look bad.” He kept on, was promoted, and now is anticipating a career in the Marines. He wouldn’t accept a fair to middlin’ life.

Brenda’s Blog – October 8, 2019

“I’m not afraid of heights – I’m afraid of falling.”

Her comment caught me off guard. I have always put myself in the “afraid of heights” category, but she challenged my thinking. She is right – I don’t mind being high if falling isn’t an imminent danger.

Fear is a strange emotion, isn’t it? Anger masquerades as fear; anger often comes dressed as depression. We find the emotion that is most socially acceptable. Or, we just play hide and seek, ducking behind a smiley face and “I’m doing great!”

I was driving US Highway 550 in Colorado from Ouray to Durango. The sun was sinking farther and faster in the west than I intended. As I maneuvered a mountainous curve I had a panic attack. I was alone, I was afraid, and I was petrified. Thankfully there was a pull-off. I sat in the car, talking to myself. “Brenda, no one is going to drive you down the mountain. You can do this – you have driven mountain roads for years. What is going on with you?” The last voice had a critical edge to it – not what I needed. I needed the “atta-girls!”

It wasn’t the height – it was the fear of driving off the edge and plunging down the hillside. I finally had a profitable talk with myself, prayed, quoted favorite fear scriptures, and started the trek homeward.

Pulling the mask off fear and telling the truth about it allowed me to manage the moment. I am not downplaying the reality of panic attacks. For this time, the experience had a rapid conclusion. I know there are other times when the outcome isn’t quite so easily resolved.

We live in a fear-driven, fear-addicted culture. We use anger, fear, and hostility as motivators of ourselves and others. What a foolish misuse of time and energy. We were created as God’s masterpiece, His work of art, His poem. We aren’t designed to operate with fear as our default system.

I heard her words and they triggered an immediate response. What about you? What are your fears? Are you realistically defining your fear or should you be looking for the “fear behind the fear?” Identify it, speak life into the emotion, and be released from the paralysis.