The Frost Line

Here in Central Iowa we’ve had frost a couple of nights, and there is more on the way. Frost is late this year. According to Google, our average first frost is Oct. 4, but this year, it was at least three weeks later than that. We have had unseasonably warm temperatures, even breaking records some days. (I am hoping that bodes well for a shortened winter.)

When we have frost, I can see it glistening on my deck and on the rooftops of nearby houses. As the day begins and the sun comes up, I see that the frost has quickly dissipated wherever the sun’s rays reached it. But in the shadow of a chimney or other obstacle, the frost remains, leaving a patch of frost shaped like whatever cast the shadow.

These shadows cause me to think about my life. When I stand directly in the sunlight, I enjoy the light and soak up the warmth. If I stand in the shadows, I feel markedly cooler, and I miss the radiance the sun imparts. For me, it’s like my relationship with God. If I stand in the shadows, maybe even hiding behind something, I cannot experience the deep love of God.

Oh, God’s love is not changed by shadows. We read in Romans 8:38-39, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

So we know God’s love is always present, but I may not be standing where I can soak it in. I may be standing behind obstacles – things that block my faith. Things like fear, un-forgiveness, an ungrateful heart, disappointments, anger or simply not taking time to be present to God’s presence and everlasting love. In a culture that so values busyness, taking the time may be our biggest obstacle.

To keep my heart from standing in the shadows, I have to be intentional about my time and my choices. I need to choose to spend time in God’s presence by reading the Bible, praying and being contemplative. We all have the opportunity to decide what spiritual practices are most comfortable for us. And given the right frame of mind and heart, nearly anything can be a spiritual practice.

We usually think of things like church attendance, prayer, the Eucharist, as well as other religious activities as spiritual practices, and they are. But the truth is, a walk around the block, noticing fall colors and thanking God for the beauty of the changing seasons can be a spiritual practice. Serving others, cooking a meal or baking, listening to music, yoga or other exercise, can all be spiritual practices if they are centered on talking to God and listening to God. I have friends who knit or crochet prayer shawls for those experiencing illness or a rough patch in their lives, and that is one of their spiritual practices. It is all about being aware of God’s presence and being intentional.

Although some people actually hear God’s voice in times of meditation or contemplation, I never have. But if I am paying attention, I believe God brings people or things to mind that I need to be attentive to. And as I notice people and situations around me, I can attend to needs that I may have never noticed, had I not been intentional about noticing.

Though the frost on the roofs is beautiful, I don’t want to stand in the shadows where it’s cold. And I do not want obstacles casting a shadow on my life to shape me. I want to step out and stand in the light of God’s presence.

The next chapter

It’s officially fall. The nights are cooler here in the Midwest, and the days are noticeably shorter – many days it’s still dark when I wake up, and the lingering twilight at night is not lingering anymore.

All this means winter is on the way. Every year when the weather turns chilly, I make a promise to God that I won’t complain about the weather. It is, after all, a gift each day. But to be very honest, I hate being cold, and winter is, well, just plain cold here in the Midwest. Why do I do that? Promise God I won’t complain about the weather. I do it because I believe He’s got this – He will take care of me, and I do have everything I need.

It’s so easy to become complainers. And by that, I don’t mean that you are complaining when coming into a warm home or building, stomping snow from you boots with your eyelashes frozen and your toes feeling wooden, you state, “It sure is cold.” That’s a statement, not a complaint.

Winter in Iowa

Complaining is when we whine about what we can’t do because it’s cold outside. Or we complain about the heat bills when we have the resources to pay them. It also might be about all the layers we have to put on to stay warm, complaining even though we have the clothes we need on hand for the winter chill.

Wearing a coat over layers can be cumbersome. After my husband, Ron, died in July 2011, I felt I was wearing a very heavy coat – a coat of grief. It was cumbersome, just as wearing a winter coat makes walking in the mall or even driving seem awkward because of the extra bulk of the garment. A coat is necessary in cold weather, and my coat of grief was necessary, too. But now, I don’t wear it all the time like I did for many months after he died.

Ron and Polly

Grief is a strange thing. People who have studied it say there are stages. But my experience has not been that predictable or neat. It’s actually very messy. I never know when it might hit me, even four years later. It might be a scent, the sound of a song, words on a page, someone’s voice or the way something is stated. And when it hits, I immediately grab for my coat of grief – it’s still hanging there, ready for me to put on if I need it.

My spiritual director said she visualized the hook I can hang that coat on as God’s hand. He holds his hand out, and I can trust that the coat will be held, and I can have it back whenever I need it. I like that visual.

As time has passed since Ron died, I think that God has exchanged my coat of grief for a lighter-weight coat – maybe more like a spring coat than a heavy winter garment. I take it down when I need it, wear it for a while, and then give it back until I need it again. And I imagine I will always need that coat sometimes. I spent many more years of my life with Ron than without him, so this new chapter is a big adjustment.

I have a quote on my refrigerator door that I think can apply to anyone, whether you are preparing for winter as a season, or winter as a metaphor for your season in life. It’s OK for me to take my grief coat down and wear it when I need it, but I need to live in the moment – not the past. I try to think of this quotation as I move forward:

“You can’t start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one.”

-- Michael McMillan

I am trusting that my next chapter, even while I am savoring the last one, will be good. I believe it will, because Jeremiah 29:11 says:

“‘For I know the plans I have for you’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

It's good to be a grownup

It’s good to be a grownup. Ok. I’ll agree, some days it would be just fine to be in a blanket tent coloring, as the Facebook post says. But, for the most part, being a grownup is a very good thing.

Having spent a lot of time with grands lately, I have seen up close and personal how a preschooler and a second grader deal with being kids. Usually it’s all good, but if they are hungry or tired or a friend said something hurtful, well, then it’s a whole different story.

But as an adult, for the most part, I know what I need and I know how to handle most situations that I encounter. My young grand may be having a melt down because he needs to eat. His blood sugar has dropped and he’s cranky. And often when that happens in young children, they don’t really know why they are feeling so crumby. As an adult, I know that feeling, and I know that I need to eat – carbs for a quick fix and protein for longer-lasting satisfaction.

I also know by the way I am feeling when my heart and soul need a boost – need to be fed. It has not always been that way. But when I learned to take the time to look into my heart, I began to recognize what my needs are. Maybe it is the need for some solitude and silence to quiet my spirit and help me listen to God’s voice. Maybe I need to go for a walk, enjoy the sunshine and the masterpiece of nature. Perhaps I need a nap, or to relax with a good book. If I think about the options, rather than impulsively acting, I usually know what I really need at the time. That’s a gift that has come from years of looking into my heart and learning to grow my faith and my relationship with God.

Sometimes, because I am a very social person, the need is to be with a friend. Not so my friend will solve my problem, but because a friend will listen. Usually I have the solution in my own heart already, but I need to talk about it to find it deep in my heart. A good friend who listens to me also offers perspective and thoughtful comments without trying to fix anything for me or in me. Mostly, I don’t want to be fixed, I want to be heard. And that is a pretty universal human need. Having someone listen to me is a huge gift.

Also, when I get together with a good friend, there is always laughter, and we know that laughing is good for us. Medical research even agrees with that.

My need may be to do something for someone else – serve in some way or listen to someone’s story. I have a friend who volunteers weekly for a local hospice. I could not do that, but I’m so glad she and others do, as I have experienced the comfort hospice volunteers provide. She says she gets more than she gives. Many volunteers say that. I volunteer as a mentor mom for a local Mothers of Preschoolers group, and I always feel that they give me more that I give to them – and the bonus is I often get to hold young babies.

For me being a grownup is a good thing. But it would not be so good if I could not assess what I really need physically, emotionally and spiritually. 

If you have difficulty determining what you need, I encourage you to look within – take some time for solitude and silence. Listen to your own heart and ask God to show you what you need. And then act on it – if you need to sleep more, do that. (I know, young moms, that may not be an option – been there, done that, but this too shall pass.) Maybe you need to laugh more, or eat more healthfully. If you listen to your heart, God will speak. The key is to listen.

And have fun being a grownup.

The Beauty of Seasons

Lake Lily
in Rocky Mountain National Park

I just returned from a week spent in Estes Park, Colorado. Such beautiful scenery. Towering mountains, rushing mountain streams, clear lakes, interesting wildlife, clear blue skies, crisp mountain air, plus the opportunity to just be – relaxing, resting and enjoying time with family.

It is true that the Colorado Rocky Mountains are spectacular and breathtaking. But as we returned to Iowa via Interstate 80 and then a state highway meandering through the countryside, I was reminded once again of the beauty that is Iowa.

My travels have not by any means included the whole Earth, but I have been to many states as well as several countries, and no place I have visited, here or abroad, compares to Iowa when it comes to different shades of green. From early spring to the beginning of winter, when Iowa is whitened by snow, Iowa boasts more green than anywhere I have seen. (And yes, I have seen Ireland – the Emerald Isle.)

Green is the color of life – growing, vibrant and flourishing. And Iowa’s countryside in late summer fairly screams “life” with its terraced corn fields rustling in the breeze awaiting harvest, fields of soybeans not yet yellowed, wildflowers with their colorful crowns dancing in ditches, and trees of different sizes and shapes all showing off their green, which soon will be changing to the gorgeous yellows, reds and browns that fall will bring.

The trip home from Colorado reminded me that summer is nearly over – technically it is little more than a week until fall officially begins. Each season brings its own beauty, just as the seasons of our life each have a special beauty of their own.

For some people, aging is something they actually regret, even though we all know that slowing the clock is not really possible. But, for me, aging is just part of my journey. And I want to enjoy each season for the beauty that it brings. I love being a grandma, spending time with my grands. I also enjoy sharing my experience and faith with younger women – opportunities I could not have as a younger woman.

I also love having time to spend with others in teaching, mentoring and just enjoying. Time is a gift we receive in retirement – time to do things we could not do when we were employed. But don't rush through your life to reach retirement -- enjoy the season you are in right now. Each one for its own special beauty and opportunities.

Scripture tells us “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven …” (Ecclesiastes 3:1), and it also says, “He hath made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Whatever season of life you are in, you can enjoy who you are and where God has placed you. I am certainly not saying that life is always easy. It is not. I have had my share of hurts in this life, but I choose to believe that in this season of my life, I am here for a purpose and my job is to believe that God has made everything beautiful in its time. So even in the rough spots, I make the choice to embrace where and who I am in this season, trusting that God is making something beautiful from whatever my circumstances.

Do I Trust You, Lord?

Unless our parents die while they are young, we all face caring for aging parents. For me, taking care of my mom has been part of my life since I was a teen. Not always physically, but emotionally. She is divorced and has lived alone for many years. And I have often been more than her daughter -- I have been her friend, confidant and emotional support.

Up until a couple of years ago, Mom, who just turned 94, still drove, went to House of Mercy, a rehab center for young women, and rocked babies in their nursery every weekday, and she did all her own shopping and housekeeping.

In the spring of 2013, she moved to a local retirement complex to assisted living. But, even then, for many months the only assistance she needed was three meals a day. Then in December 2014, she suffered several compression fractures of vertebrae, which are very painful. These were a result of osteoporosis. (Take care of your bones, girl friends!) Since then, it’s been a struggle. And she recently had a recurrence of compression fractures.

She is now in the nursing care area of her facility. We are hoping this is rehab, and she will eventually be able to go back to her assisted living apartment. But at 94, you never know.

Taking care of an ailing and aging parent, even when he or she is in a retirement facility, can become a full-time commitment. You become the conduit for their socialization outside of the facility, as well as their personal shopper, bookkeeper, and their transportation to doctors’ appointments and more.

Her need for me makes me hesitant to travel. It seems that when I leave town, something happens. She breaks her partial plate, or worse, she breaks vertebrae. So I am torn. I am retired, and I’ve worked hard all my life. I like to travel, both in the country and abroad, and the fact is, I’m not getting any younger either. I do not know how many more years I will want to or be able to travel. I also love to do things with my grandchildren and visit my adult children and their families in Oklahoma and New Jersey.

But my Mom needs me.

In many ways, this anxiety is not much different than the anxiety I sometimes had over leaving my children when they were very young. It’s always the “what ifs” that cause my anxiety.

What it comes down to is trust. Even if I stay in town all the time, my Mom will someday die. It’s a fact we don’t like, but it’s no secret that none of us gets out of here alive. And staying home won’t change that.

Someone has counted the number of times the words “do not fear” are in the Bible. They say the count is 365. That means one for every day of the year. Do I trust God, working through the care staff where she is, to take care of my Mom? Can I relinquish my fears? I cannot be with her 24/7, even if I never leave town. At this point, I am not capable of giving her the medical care she needs to heal and recover, so there is already a certain amount of trust needed. What if something happens and I am not here?

Choosing trust and giving up fear is truly a choice. I choose to trust you, God. I make that choice daily. And I thank you for your peace.

This is my prayer, from “Fragments of your Ancient Name” by Joyce Rupp:

Calm Sea of Peace

On occasion, I am a ship in stormy waters,

Tossed about by troubling thoughts,

Rocked harshly with emotional waves.

I am a ship searching for a calmer voyage

On the smooth surface of eventual surrender.

Protect me on the rough and roiling breakers

Of difficulties that agitate and fling me around.

Calm the patterns of distressful undulation

Tossing me to and fro in life’s unwanted events.

Sail my ship on the calm sea of your peace.