Brenda’s Blog – November 3, 2015

“Why are all those trees sitting out there in the field?”

Driving through rural America, I could see miles and miles of farmland. “America the Beautiful” always comes to mind. As I topped a rise, I noticed a strange grove of tall evergreens, flanked by smaller trees, and then a hedge of shrubs. It looked out of place among the crops.

I approached the area and saw the house nestled among this great wall of greenery. This was not a random planting, but a purposeful grouping of trees creating a windbreak and protection for the house. The wind which blew across the fields had nothing to stop its impact unless a natural wall existed.

The residents of this house wisely constructed a shield against the weather.

I started thinking about the need for emotional, professional, and relational windbreaks. We are vulnerable to the ravages of negativity, misunderstanding, and hostility. We are open to those who accost us. What can we do? How can we help others? By building windbreaks!

How do we do that? By being firmly grounded in the knowledge of ourselves and the knowledge of God. Scripture warns us against being people who are blown by every wind – this way and that. We need to have our values, our character, and our strengths well in hand. When the blustery environment challenges us, we should be like Martin Luther: “Here I stand, I can do no other.” This doesn’t mean we are stubborn, intransigent, and “ornery.” It means we know who we are and are willing to hold because we know how we best make our unique contribution.

And then, we must know who God is. What is His character? What is His message to us? How can we appropriate His grace and mercy? When the storms come, we can be assured of His presence and His care. It doesn’t mean the weather doesn’t get bad – it just means we have a Divine Windbreak.

Brenda’s Blog – October 20, 2015

“The mountains spoil the view.”

Years ago I traveled frequently to the Pacific Northwest. Flying into Portland thrilled me. Leaving the mountains behind made me sigh. On one trip back to Iowa, I sat next to a farmer from Nebraska. As a plane chit-chatter, I said, “Don’t you love seeing the mountains?” “No, I don’t. The mountains block the view.” I was stunned. THE MOUNTAINS WERE THE VIEW! He went on to explain he could step out on his Nebraska porch and see for miles and miles – that was the view he loved.

I realized much of life is based on our own perspective, and experiences. I treasured the majesty of mountains; he resented the way they limited his sight line. For me to establish my preference as the rule would damage any further conversation.

In the last few weeks a dear friend and I traveled through New Mexico, Colorado, and Texas. I eagerly anticipated the ride on the Durango to Silverton narrow gauge steam railroad. The ride through the mountain passes and along the Animas River excited me. My sweet friend politely expressed appreciation for the beauty of the turning leaves, and the mighty rock walls… but with polite reservation.

There were times when the granite cliffs were so close we could literally reach out of the open observation car and touch the rocks. I must admit my breaths were shortened by the altitude and the closed in pathway.

We descended from the heights of Silverton into the open meadows around Durango. “I love this,” was her response as she took a deep breath. To me, it was just high altitude flat lands. To her, it was a place she could finally see the view.

In the next few days we traveled through stark New Mexico into Santa Fe, and finally into Amarillo, TX. “Now, this is what I like!” REALLY? Except for the Cadillac Ranch on I-40 outside town, and the enormous roadside cross, I missed the beauty she saw.

Personality preferences are real. Different perceptions exist. When we only see life through our own framework, we miss so much. My friend taught me to look at acres of Texas Panhandle land with new eyes… and appreciate it greatly. I still love the grandeur of the peaks, but the wideness of the prairie now brings a smile.

Brenda’s Blog – October 6, 2015

“Resurrect!”

My 14 year old grandson and I are reenactors with Neeley’s Roughnecks, an artillery unit. The battle of Elkhorn Tavern (or Pea Ridge) resulted in the loss of nearly 4,000 lives. Men (and women) fought and died on that rolling farmland in Northwestern Arkansas.

This weekend we shared the experience with hundreds of others. Rarely are the guns overrun. The artillery generally stands strong, firing until the end of the battle. However, this time the infantry fell back, leaving the cannons vulnerable. We fought with our implements but were overcome. We fell to the ground by the guns.

“How long do we have to be dead?” was the question I heard from someone nearby. “Until the battle is over” came back the answer.

Finally, the commanding general shouted, “RESURRECT!” At this point we all rose to our feet, shook hands, and packed up to go back to our urban environments.

I could not avoid thinking about the symbolism and the application to our lives. We are all in a battle, aren’t we? Sometimes we win the skirmishes and sometimes we lose. But the battle goes on.

At some point the general will shout throughout all creation, “RESURRECT!” The dead will rise and those who are still living will join them in the air. What an exciting thought.

Applying this to our daily lives makes us think about relationships we have. Aren’t there some which seem to be dead, but can be revived? Aren’t there friends, children, grandchildren, who seem to be dead in sin but hopefully will hear the voice of the Master calling them to life? What about our hard hearts? We may feel dead, but there is life everlasting which is available to us.

Let’s stay in the battle, but let’s know the call is on the horizon – RESURRECTION DAY IS COMING!

Brenda’s Blog- September 8, 2015

“And miles to go before I sleep; and miles to go before I sleep.” – Robert Frost

Frost’ poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowing Evening is one of America’s favorites. The imagery stimulates our imagination. The poignant words evoke a variety of emotions.

Of course, reflection on the road not taken has been translated by Scott Peck into “the road less traveled.” Sermons, commencement addresses, pre-game pep talks, and parental admonitions have all alluded to the opportunities of life and making good choices.

But is the road not taken always a negative? I think not. Certainly not as poetic, but surely as true is the title of the country western ballad, “Thank God For Unanswered Prayer.” The road not taken and the prayer unanswered can be a source of tremendous gratitude.

One of the distinct advantages of quickly approaching the 3/4 century mark is reflection. Remembering choices, good and bad; reliving experiences, good and bad; rehashing conversations, good and bad – all part of the reflective process. Usually my conclusion is gratitude for those roads I didn’t take and for those prayers God answered with a “no.”

Seeing His hand of protection when my senses took a temporary vacation humbles me. When I recognize the learning through difficulties and problems I am grateful growth is a process.

Walks through woods on snowy evenings are rare in East Texas, but we can still enjoy the solitude of pine trees, white-tipped or not. Looking up at the trees puts life into perspective. Musing about what they have seen, give me a longer view. The music of the trees would thrill Sondheim.

Many times I have quoted the “miles to go” with a sigh and a shrug. Today I realize what a gift those miles are. The experiences they represent will provide fodder for future reflection. Undoubtedly those miles will include some missteps, but they will also allow for unspeakable joys. I am thankful that there are miles to go before that last sleep. And I am most appreciative for those roads not taken.

Brenda’s Blog – August 25, 2015

“Here, son, let me help.”

Our community pool requires a shower before entering. The apparatus to start the water flow is quite hard to push.

The other day I watched with interest as a strong-willed young one reached up to depress the button, but without much success. Quietly, his father walked over, offered help, and then placed his large hand lightly over his son’s. Together they showered.

It hit me how many times we can either be the giver or receiver of help. But too many times we either stubbornly refuse, or fail to acknowledge the need. Seeing the partnership between father and son reminded me how important community is – for organizations, families, friendships, and faith.

And sometimes those “showers of blessing” we desire come after we work together combining strengths. One man (or woman) bands are comical and enjoyable, to a point. But no one expects great music from them. Amidst the clanging, yapping, and tooting, melodies do arise, but seldom would you confuse them for a symphony orchestra!

When we are assigned a task, or volunteer for a job, we must keep our options open for enlisting aid and assistance. Often the accomplishment occurs because someone graciously says, “Here, son (daughter), let me help.”

And on the other hand, we must always be aware of situations which would benefit from an offer of help – without creating an overbearing atmosphere of criticism. Discerning the right time and the right word is the key to effective relationships and leadership. The advancement of aid should never be seen as a statement of the other’s ineptitude.

Community is the interweaving of many hands to accomplish one purpose.

Brenda’s Blog – August 11, 2015

“Gather up the broken pieces that are left over, so that nothing is wasted.” (John 6:12)

Jesus feeds five thousand people then instructs the disciples to pick up the leftovers. They gleaned 12 basketsful.

Why should this interest us? We usually focus on the magnitude of turning four small biscuits and two sardines into an ample feast. But isn’t there more to learn?

Those snatches of time can be thrown away easily. Those smidgens of energy can be wasted. But think of the possibilities. I have a friend who studies scripture on flash cards as she sits in carpool line. Others (who are way more fit than I) grab moments to do leg lifts, jumping jacks, or deep breathing exercises.

A successful salesperson keeps notepaper with stamped envelopes close by in the car. Yes, there are some who actually send handwritten notes. Those little pieces of time allow her to keep in touch in a most personal way.
My Dad used to clip newspaper articles, apply a sticky note with “Thought you’d be interested” and then send off to friends. He used extra minutes to stay in touch.

I am not recommending a frenetic, “use-every-minute-” lifestyle. But I do think there are baskets left uncollected which may be used for the benefit of others.

The Bible tells us to “redeem the time.” To me, this means adopting an attitude of stewardship which takes into account all of our resources: time, talent, and treasure. To live redemptively we lay each day before the Lord asking for the best use of ourselves.

Practically, when we take that extra minute to throw something into the wash, put a file away, kiss that grandchild, or make that quick phone call we are good stewards of those extra baskets.

I want to think constructively about making the most of everything I am given. I want to see God’s big miracles, but I want to be ever aware of those important leftovers.

Brenda’s Blog – July 28, 2015

“All we need is your driver’s license…”

I lost my driver’s license, along with all my other ID cards. Think how socially lost you are without proof. You truly don’t exist. The catch-22 of invisibility is almost impossible to navigate. Social security wouldn’t let me apply for a replacement without a driver’s license. But a driver’s license was inaccessible without a social security card. I was a non-person!

Existential philosophers challenge us to consider the meaning of life, especially and particularly our own lives. Why are we alive and who are we – really? A question of identity.

Identity is a big topic right now. Identity theft, identity fraud, identity exchange, identity confusion – who we are is very much in play. More importantly, who we are NOT is a critical point.

And how we determine and maintain our identity is a crucial process.

The messages we send to the outside world matter. But the messages I send to my inside world matter even more. As a believer in Christ Jesus, I find great peace in the knowledge that my true identity is not what others think I am, or even what I think I am – it is who God through Christ has made me to be.

When I attempt to rearrange, reinvent, or regenerate an identity based on what I think will accomplish my goals, and satisfy my longings, crisis occurs.

Foundational to my identity is the sovereignty of God. I am not a free agent, managing my world with an unfettered hand. I am the beloved creation of a purposeful, intentional God who designed me, my path, and my destiny. Self-identification is a distorted, often perverted version of what our God determined. And when an imperfect being attempts to outthink the Perfect, chaos ensues.

Throughout the chafing, aggravating, irritating (and many other “ing” emotions) experience, I had to stop and think about who I truly am. I am not who the government recognizes me to be. I am not even who the culture decides I will be. NO, I am the daughter of the King, redeemed by the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. In Him, I am free to be me. The child’s book had it partially right, but missed the crux of the issue. It is IN HIM I find the freedom to identity. I don’t have to defiantly self-identify because He has already claimed me as His own.

Yes, I finally am a licensed driver in the state of Texas, and qualified for social security benefits. But thanks be to God I am His and He is mine, whether or not I am credentialized. My identity rests in the finished, acceptable work of Jesus.

Brenda’s Blog – July 14, 2015

“I am one and only one…”

My grandmother was the wife of a Southern Baptist pastor, the mother of five boys, and a great influence on generations in the Smith line. She repeated her life motto to me regularly on our visits:

“I am one and only one, I cannot do everything, but I can do something. What I can do, I ought to do; what I ought to do, by the Grace of God, I will do.” I wrote it out in calligraphy for her to hang in her apartment. After her death, I received it and now it hangs in my house as a reminder of her strength.

Jack Palance as the character “Curly” in the movie City Slickers sagely counseled Billy Crystal’s character and the others to “find the one thing that is most important in life.” He held up a finger, wordlessly emphasizing the one thing.

We are limited. The era of “having it all” is passe. Even neurological science is supporting the one thing by introducing research which shows our brains were not meant for hyperwarp multi-tasking. We have a unilateral configuration which works most effectively when following one task to completion. Sadly, our social patterns long ago trained us to do many things at one time. We reward those who drive themselves into a frenzy being productive. But perhaps this wasn’t God’s design for us.

What is most important to you? What is your one thing? What gets number one priority when allocating resources of time and energy?

I never did ask my grandmother what her “something” was, but I imagine she would have told me bringing up five boys to revere God, understand their responsibilities, and be grateful for their gifts.

Think about the times when you feel God’s pleasure. Think about the times when your return on effort is multiplied. Think about the times when you felt the joy of being used by God. Could these be indications of your one thing?

Of course, we are called on to operate in a world which demands much from us. But as far as it is possible, let’s join in the covenant to identify our one thing and by the grace of God, do it.

Brenda’s Blog – July 7, 2015

“I know them well and love them much.”

My friend Jean is an artist who works masterfully in oils. As friends walked through her one woman show, we commented on the sensitivity in the faces of her subjects.

“Did you take pictures of them before painting?” She paused for just a brief moment then answered me: “No, but I know them well and love them much.”

Striking and meaningful words.

Most of my friends are now the oldest in their line because their parents and even siblings have moved from earth to heaven. “Their faces are fading,” I heard a woman say. That is true of school friends, neighbors in years past, or work associates. But never for my Mom and Dad. Why? Well, for one thing I have photos, but more than that – I have them engraved upon my heart. And as Jean beautifully said, “I knew them well and loved them much.”

We can extend this beyond faces. I think we can certainly apply this to goals, and aspirations. What happens to those childhood “when I grow up” dreams? Where do those five year goals get warehoused? Could Bucket Lists for those of us over 70 become the regeneration of young hopes?

In looking back I see threads of aspiration which weave throughout my entire life. Then, I see ragged strings which ended up as straggly leftovers. Thankfully, some of those truncated cords didn’t make it through. How wise is our God!

What do you see so very clearly in your life because there is knowledge and love? Where is your focus and your attention? The areas we feed are the ones that grow.

Close your eyes and bring up an image of who you are now and who you want to be in 12 months. Then think carefully about how to know, love, and nurture enough. And, of course, always overlay these hopes with the simple words: “As the Lord wills.”

Brenda’s Blog – June 16, 2015

“They moved the cross off the platform to make room for the drums.”

My friend’s church changed from a traditional service. The final transition was the removal of the cross. There is nothing inherently sacred about the physical cross, but the symbolism does give one pause. It is a metaphor for many of the decisions we make.

In our haste to stay current, we jettison the old, sometimes without understanding the consequences. The exchange of worship styles is not a theological issue, as long as the object and focus is scripturally sound. But sometimes in our rush we fail to recognize the message we are sending. When we always seek the brand new, we lose our sense of continuity.

I once heard that totem poles were to be read bottom to top. The more valued positions were the carvings at the bottom representing history. An old Indian tale speaks of a modern woman who is told by an older one to stand on her shoulders. “No, Mother, I will not – you stand on mine,” the young woman replied. “My daughter, look down.” As the young woman looked down she saw one woman standing on the shoulders of another, all the way down beyond where she could see. Each generation stood on the shoulders of the one before… younger women standing on the older women. “I understand, Mother.” Each of us should be a platform for the next.

As I age, the contribution of my elders increases. As I become the older one, I often long for the wisdom of those who have now passed. Maybe we just march to the beat of a different drum sometimes!

Lest anyone think I have completely moved into “old foagie-ville” let me assure you I love worship teams. I love to raise my hands in praise. I love to clap and sing. But surely there is room for the cross since there was room at the cross for us who praise and worship.