Brenda’s Blog – August 13, 2024

“The car is in the house! The car is in the house!”

My office phone rang. As I answered I heard my Dad saying, “Your Mother says her car is in the house. You are closer to her than I am, so would you go now and I will meet you there?” How could I possibly know what “the car is in the house” meant.

When I walked into the house I realized she was right – her car passed through the garage wall, crashing into the built in china cabinet on the other side. The breakfast room table stopped the forward motion just shy of a kitchen wall holding the sink. Mom climbed through the passenger window onto the table, lifted herself down and immediately called Dad repeating over and over “Fred! Fred! The car is in the house! The car is in the house!”

Dad collected the shards of china, porcelain, and crystal formerly stored on the glass shelves of the cabinet, gathering them into three bags. As he handed one to each adult child he declared, “Here is your inheritance.”

Mom’s days of driving and independence ceased on that day. To the end of her life she maintained the car failed, propelling it through the garage wall. We all knew her foot hit the accelerator instead of the brake as she entered from one of her favorite afternoon outings to NorthPark Center. That one mistake eliminated her freedom, and the option to go because her “wheels” (and her keys) were no longer available.

That table sits in my home decades later after being refurnished by a loving son in law as a house warming gift for me.

We may never drive our car into the house, but undoubtedly many of us will experience life altering events which change us. There will be times when the difficult times make me want to cry “the car is in the house!” And when I do I know the very same God who watched over my Mom is with me. How grateful I am for a God who cares on the good days – and especially on those terrible, awful ones.

Brenda’s Blog – July 30, 2024

“Every time I back up, my stomach knots up and I wait for the crunch.”

My friend and I were talking about past experiences which continued to have an emotional hold. She told of backing out of a parking space in a neighborhood mall and nearly being struck by a passing car. Even though no impact occurred the experience still marks her emotional memory.

I shared that I understood because I, too, had a very similar experience driving in one of the many residential alleys in Dallas. It only takes one of those episodes to create a permanent reflex.

“Each time I back up in a busy parking lot, I unconsciously wait for the impact.” It has never repeated, but the instinct remains.

We then expanded the experience to a broader application… Life. Once we have been seriously hurt it affects the way we respond, doesn’t it? Relationships have built-in crunches which always live in our emotional background. Career setbacks make us sensitive to risk-taking. Abused children flinch when a sudden move reminds them of being hit. So many triggers!

We need to undergo the “renewing of our minds” learning to engage in life without holding back while waiting for the crunch. Diligence and wisdom are the new foundations. We can retrain our minds and reframe our emotional reactions to choose healthy caution but denying fear and shrinking back.

May we release the power past crunches have over us redesigning a way of thinking which allows us freedom and joy. We are told in 2 Timothy 1:7 “God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” Let’s take a deep breath and rejoice.

Brenda’s Blog – July 16, 2024

“Do you think the tree is dead? There are no leaves when the others are green.”

I have a favorite oak tree which graces my back deck. For three seasons it brings such happiness as it towers over the yard. However, each winter the leaves fall and it stands tall, but barren. For nearly 16 years I watch the other trees joyfully turn green almost over night while my dear oak still sleeps in its winter brown attire.

Is it dead? This question comes to mind each and every mind. Yet, a few weeks later there comes a magical night which triggers green leaves. I always take a deep breath, give thanks for the year, and enjoy it for the next months.

My oak tree is a late bloomer.

Haven’t we seen people who appear to be in hibernation without exhibiting signs of maturity and growth. Haven’t we sometimes wondered about those who seem to lack direction? Haven’t we even seen young ones whose physical development doesn’t match those around?

My older son in law was 5’7” when he graduated from high school. When he went to a high school reunion several years later, he was 6’1” and hardly recognizable. We are told males can often reach their adult height after age 21, but we expect it much sooner and are concerned if they don’t follow the peer pattern. Sometimes our DNA has a different rhythm.

Now think about spiritual development. We mature at different rates. There is no “normal” chart for measurement. Yet, we are quick to judge and assess others, aren’t we? Wouldn’t it be better if we understood our Christian walk has individual characteristics? Yes, some of us take detours and fall into potholes, but the Lord promises He will complete the work He started.

I sat with a group of grandmothers who were all bragging about their high achieving grands, listing their accomplishments and hoping to impress the others. It came around to one grandmother at the table. She told of a granddaughter who is doing well in graduate school.
Then she paused and said, “my grandson is working on his testimony.” That has struck a permanent chord with me. She wisely knew his life experiences were difficult, but also knew his great God would weave them all together for His honor and glory. And, she prayed one day he would be a giant oak tree with a story of blooming that would bring great rejoicing.

God bless the late bloomers. And may we pray for them knowing “in His time He makes all things beautiful” as the praise song reminds us.

Brenda’s Blog – July 2, 2024

Sitting on a sunny Wednesday afternoon after a delightful lunch with my elderly friends in Dallas I reminisced about our pleasant afternoon while waiting for my little side street to enter Northwest Highway. Then WHAM!

A redlight-running car crossed the main intersection ramming a car entering the intersection on the green. Cars collided bouncing into one another like bumper cars at Six Flags. Then, totally unexpectedly one careened into my quiet little side street striking me.

I wasn’t even close to the initial accident yet here I sat in the middle of the action. How could this happen? I felt violated, stunned, and angry. How dare this man make a decision to run a red light at an unreasonable speed and set off a domino effect right there in the middle of Park Cities? A bad choice by one selfish driver created a pile of tangled metal and traffic on Northwest Highway.

Reams of paper, rental car details, and weeks of inconvenience followed. All because someone else hit someone else who hit someone else who hit me!

The Bible talks about generational blessings and curses. Decisions we make and actions we take can change the trajectory of family history. Think about the influence of ancestors on our lives… where they lived, who they married, what work they did, how they answered crucial questions about faith and core values, how they handled money, and even how they voted. All these set a path for generations to come.

We, too, influence the far ranging impact on those around us and those we will never know.

Ideas, experiences, and actions bounce off each other like the cars that day creating history. What we do today is like a pebble thrown into a water making ripples. What we believe, how we live, and what we pass on is of great importance. Let’s commit to making today the foundation of a good tomorrow.

Brenda’s Blog – June 18, 2024

“What does Corum Deo mean?” That was my question to Google. Living among men and women who seriously study God’s word and Christian thought can be intimidating. Some toss Latin phrases into their conversations with casual elegance. I generally understand, but not always.

Yes, I know “Pax Vobiscum” (peace be with you) from years of choir benedictions; “Adeste Fideles” (Oh come all ye faithful”) and “Imago Dei”(image of God) from years of Reformed Theology training.

But Corum Deo? I recognize it in writing, understand it when spoken, but how do I fully grasp it, much less apply it? Google tells me it literally means “in the sight of, in the presence of God.” Commentators expand that to mean we live every day under the eye of God, the omnipresent One.

As an octogenarian single woman this concept’s definition brings great comfort. However, as a young girl in the 1950s who desperately wanted to be “in the center of God’s will,” it was a daunting idea. Misinformed and often grace-less adults used the eye of God as a control mechanism. They taught me He watched me night and day. They failed to encourage me with His “watching over.”

They exhorted us with “Be careful little eyes what you see, little ears what you hear, and mouths what you say, for the Father up above is looking down in love.” A marvelous thought, right? This was an early lesson in the value of context and editing for to this day I remember the song without the words “in love.” What we heard was the warning that no matter how far under the bed or deep into the closet we went, God still could see us. The implication was a God of intimidation – a divine patrolman.

Oh, that our well-meaning (for the most part) Sunday School teachers would have emphasized a God with us, protecting, guiding, and providing. Oh, to understand Corum Deo in all its glory… that we could live in the light and sight of His presence. Yes, He rules and reigns but we heard that he wielded a ruler and rained down punishment.

Thank you, Father, for teaching me the beauty of your presence.

Brenda’s Blog – June 4, 2024

“I had to look over and over to find the hawk so I could get the photo.” My friend Kathy is a professional photographer who specializes in wild life, especially birds. After months and months she finally spotted a hawk in a tree near their home. The Piney Woods of East Texas create a hospitable habitat for a richly diverse selection of subject for her.

The hawk was captured in full form perched on a broad branch of a tree. When I first saw her photo my reaction was, “Protective coloration at its best, isn’t it?”

Living in rural Texas gives us all opportunities to see this protection in the seasonal changes. The dappling which resembles light playing through the trees covers newly-delivered fawns; the drab coloration of female cardinals keeps prying predators away from the nests; and of course, the grassy , woodsy patterns on the skins of snakes allow them free access to fields and backyard wood piles.

A friend of mine received word his company was negotiating with another in preparation for a merger. His cryptic comment was, “Time to put on my protective coloration.” “What do you mean?” “Dress like they dress, take the gray out of my hair, and keep my head down.” I thought he was kidding, but watching the transition proved his strategy correct for he made it through the merger successfully.

We all have out own ways of avoiding detection. We hide anger, fear – even the need for acceptance and love. We wear smiles when we are in terrible pain; we “play nice” when clearly the situation is unfair; we pretend to enjoy someone’s company until we can escape. These are all ways of wearing masks which provide protection.

Being unmasked conjures up unspeakable dread, doesn’t it? Being fully known drives us to mask and even double mask. But God didn’t create us to provide our own protection coloration. He promised to be with us, leading and guiding – and protecting. How can we help others if we present only a false face? Protective coloration for hawks is given by God… the presence of the Holy Spirit is the protection given to us. Let us walk in truth showing what God has done, is doing, and will forever do – hallelujah!

Brenda’s Blog – May 21, 2024

A cup of English Breakfast tea with lemon and local honey in a hand-thrown mug is a marvelous way to begin the day, or to reflect mid-afternoon on the day. My British friends consider my use of teabags rather crass. Loose tea steeped in a beloved pot then strained and poured into a delicate porcelain tea cup with a flourish is the only civilized way to enjoy tea. Cream and sugar are the traditional accompaniments, not my lemon and honey from a friend’s hives.

I truly enjoy the sensation of wrapping my hands around the heavy mug, thoroughly heated from the boiling water while sitting on my couch dressed in my sweats. On the other hand, my tea aficionados dress in frocks, and fascinators to enjoy the afternoon ritual.
Tea serves those of us who love analogies. Eleanor Roosevelt is credited with “A woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong she is until she is put into hot water.”

I enjoy British mysteries. One of the requisite lines in every episode is the “come in, I’ll put on the kettle.” Isn’t that true of life? Don’t we feel like we are invited to participate while the water heats up and the quality of our tea is tested?
It is in the boiling water we find the truth of our faith. It is also in the boiling water we are changed into something useful to many. It is in the boiling water we find purpose.

Whether in a mug which is the “work of the artist’s hand” or from family Royal Doulton, the tea can teach us life lessons. We can learn to appreciate the boiling waters as they transform us into a fragrant, delightful source of joy.

Brenda’s Blog – May 7, 2024

Mrs. Preston was my first grade teacher at Westwood Elementary in Cincinnati, Ohio. I noticed birthdays were celebrated in a special way. The celebrant would leave the room with Mrs. Preston, returning with a colorful crepe paper streamer which would be tied to the chair. All day they enjoyed the attention. Right then I knew when March came I would walk out the door and choose a pink streamer.

As March arrived I could hardly wait! Finally the day came, Mrs. Preston escorted me to a supply closet, opened the door, and said, “Pick one, Brenda.” The overflowing box overwhelmed me. “Where is a pink one… I can’t see a pink one, “I thought to myself. Impatiently, Mrs. Preston said, “JUST PICK ONE!”

So I did – a purple one. I HATED that purple streamer. She tied it to my chair instead of a pink one I had anticipated since school began. But I didn’t say anything.

Nearly 50 years later the story surfaced from my memory bank. Then associated reminders poured out. I had settled for purple because I didn’t know to politely ask for help finding the pink streamer. I didn’t know that it was important to me to express my desire. Settling became a way of life for me.

Invited to speak to a women’s group in Kansas City a short time later I decided my topic would be “Don’t Settle.” A few weeks before I stopped overnight in Dallas, I was sharing the story and the outline with my Dad, a recognized and respected author, speaker, and mentor. He encouraged me to go boldly.

The week of the trip to Kansas City a package arrived for me. As I opened it tears ran down my eyes. Yes, it was a package of pink crepe paper. Written in his scribbly hand were these words “Don’t Settle… and Be A Blessing.”

At the end of my prepared talk I reached into my bag, pulled out the crepe paper, passed it around with a pair of scissors and encouraged each woman to cut a small piece as a reminder.

How often fear stops us from stepping out. How often we don’t want to “get in the way” or inconvenience someone. How often we fail to experience the joy of a realized dream. This is the time to pick your own streamer!

Brenda’s Blog – April 23, 2024

“What is your most embarrassing experience?” The ice breaker at a Sunday School party produced groans. No one carries these anecdotes around, prepared for a quick telling. However, in the spirit of the game I dug deep. Not because I have so few, but quite the opposite… Which one to share?

I settled on a phone call in the early 2000s. “Brenda Smith? I am a sculptor commissioned to do a bust of your father and the photos I have just don’t give me another direction for the nose. I am told your nose is just like your father’s. Would you consider coming to my studio and sitting for me while I work on this part of his face?”

Never did I imagine “sitting for a rendering of my nose” as a line in my resume.

I visited several times, sat very still, and left feeling I had made a great contribution.

The bust sits in a ministry’s headquarters named for him… with my nose!

In Amy Grant’s early career she recorded a song with the title “My Father’s Eyes.” It referenced her desire to have her heavenly father’s eyes. To see the needs of others with compassion, to see the world with eyes of hope and God’s love.

Certainly, I, too, want to reflect my heavenly father’s eyes, but I also want to reflect the character of my parents. I count it joy when someone says, “You look like your Mom.” I hear those words desiring that more than a physical similarity is noticed. Showing her gentle spirit, her unfailing love, and her generosity would be a high privilege.

What have you received from your parents that speaks of legacy, heritage, and continuity? What traits remind others of your parentage?

In what ways have you started looking more like your heavenly father? When others see Jesus through us that is great joy! Shine for Him!

Brenda’s Blog – April 9, 2024

An internet “psychic” service advertised their prowess in opening doors to satisfying romance. This campaign ran before February 14th knowing the data shows New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s Day topping the list of “worst nights for singles.”

The assuring male voice tells the potential client about the value of paying for supernatural guidance which will bring ultimate happiness and success. After the pitch sets the emotional stage, the radio ad finishes with the tag line: “Flaunt Your Love Life!” Their implication is using their service will lead to unbridled, jealousy-producing relationships.

Beyond bemusement I considered the implication of their tag line. Love is no longer a precious, personal gift from God but a commodity to be monetized. To desire a relationship for the sole purpose of generating envy makes it sound like a drop-dead outfit with killer shoes.

We are desensitized to the profound nature of true love. We see celebrities proudly using each other for professional gain (until they tire or max out the value). Commitment becomes a matter of “lunch tomorrow.” Utility is the measure, not fidelity.

I don’t know if the West Coast seers are magically finding partners for their clients, but I do know true love is not for flaunting, but for fostering.