July 1st and Summer School where I work is over. Bet the kids are happy. I opted not to work the month of June so to have the whole summer vacation open to all God would send me. I did not know there’d be the precious funeral of a young family member which I would not have missed for anything, nor the time spent with dear family in those painful days. I did not understand how much it’d mean to me to share a weekend with close girl friends and our grand-daughter Cinda at a Women of Faith conference. I did not realize how much tutoring I’d be receiving or how golden the days of June would be. I wasn’t thinking that in Poppy’s school, recess soaks me in living water.
Yesterday’s hour with my Spiritual Director seemed to pull it all together for me and help me see, as I recapped June with her. I felt a warm light in my heart where my Teacher holds class.
This morning in prayer I said, “I got a long way to learn, Poppy.” I meant to say that I had a long way to go, but then smiled, thinking that, sure enough, I do have a long way to learn; here in Summer School.
I like summer school, Poppy. I trust in your patience and help so I get it, cause I got a long way to learn…
“If we will just wait on our God…” I quickly jotted that in my notebook, hearing it from a speaker at a Women of Faith conference this past weekend.
We waited for Shaylin for 10 years before she appeared. I admit I’d almost given up when out of the blue; there she was in her mother’s arms. I waited for Jon while he was away in the Navy, staying busy getting my education. With family, I waited by my mother as she lay dying peacefully for five days after a major stroke.
I know about waiting, though it is not easy. The word itself makes me think I have to be still waiting; quiet, prayerful and serene. But that’s not always the way of things, is it?
Being a multitasker at my core, it’s difficult to slow down and harder to be still. Not my nature, this still waiting, though I covet it and hope that slowly I can open more space to it.
God made me and I am good. He walks fast with me and sits still at my side when I can manage it. I am waiting on my God as I trek along, knowing there are miracles planned.
Still waiting is hard, Poppy. I’m grateful for your acceptance and patience, plus, that you know and understand me. Thanking you again today for the miracles.
Matthew 5:16 “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”
“Born of woman, in the image of man. By the grace of God, at his right hand. He will lead us to righteousness, away from sin, for all to find his love within.” Ramon Gonzales “My little way to pay back what has been given to me.”
This was written on a piece of paper and handed to Jon at work yesterday by Mr. Gonzales. Jon sees him in the hallway fairly regularly and they speak though they do not know each other well. Perhaps he has seen some kindness in Jon.
Jon handed the paper to me at our morning devotion time. So the gift goes on as I pass it to you. Any little light God gives us, we are meant to share in some way. Poppy’s light is never to be hidden under a bushel.
You and I stand up from bed and have the day ahead; to do work, to get well, to take care, to grieve and mourn, to love, to think, to care, to share, to pray, to play and much more. So many opportunities! Much of it really is not in our control. It will be what it will be. However, we do have our choices, our God given will, our “little ways” that we can pay back what has been given us.
Poppy, thanks for light in our darkness, for the new day filled with opportunities.
2 Kings “She fell at his feet, overwhelmed with gratitude.”
Today is my gramma Lucinda Jane Hood’s birthday. I remember her with such love and gratitude. She was a strong influence in my life and still is though gone from this earth for many years.
Those who’ve gone on continue to teach me. I may learn more from my mom and dad now then when they were living, though that sounds far fetched. It comes through the remembering, ah ha moments when I come to understand what I did not accept or pay attention to before. I’m grateful for the grace that brings things together over time.
Though Memorial Day has passed, today I will observe it through gratitude, as I live my life recalling the blessings of people, both living and in the Sweet By and By, who made and make a difference in my life and who I am becoming.
I hold Gramma’s hand today. I hope to live today well, for her birthday present.
Much gratitude, Poppy, for all the cherished gifts you’ve give me, the flesh and bone of your people.
Matthew 5:44 “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
At the visitation of Sergeant Duffy, Shaylin watched the soldiers and would say, “Hi, Buddy.” Her daddy and mommy have a friend she sees often in a uniform whose name is Buddy and that is how she made the connection. It brought a smile to several of those young men who’d traveled to be there for Justin’s family. Truly those in uniform are our buddies. Shaylin is so smart.
As Jon read today’s reading from Matthew, one more thing came to me from the priest’s words at the funeral. It went along with “What do we do now?” Though I can not recall his exact words, I remember being encouraged not to hate those who persecute us, or to entertain bitterness or hatred. Again the message comes to me that Poppy so often sends; do my best and leave the rest. All in the hands of Jesus, those hands with the nail scars, those hands of the man/child of God who sacrificed everything for you and me, those hands who lifted Justin into His arms to take Home…
Our own family member gave his all, sacrificed his life and his parents hold his flag. I’m grateful for solace and guidance God gave us through the beautiful funeral Mass; the music I can still hear now and Father’s words that echo in my memory. I think of Mother and Father, sisters and Grampa, lifting them to our One who loves us wildly with such passion. It is the best I can do and I leave the rest to my Poppy.
Poppy…I pray for them and I pray for all our Buddies out there…
John 19:25 “Near the cross of Jesus, there stood his mother.”
As a child I remember falling in the alley and getting cinders in my knee that had to be cleaned out before bandaging. It was sore and bruising work. That is how my heart feels today after hearing of the death and going to the military funeral of my young cousin, Sergeant Justin Duffy, son of Joe and Janet Hood Duffy.
I traveled alone to Illinois where I met with brother David, daughter Julie and two year old Shay for the trip north to Moline where we joined with our branch of family that had lost their son, grandson and brother in
Iraq on June 2nd.
What can I say to convey how deeply we were touched by such painful beauty? I saw it in the eyes of Justin’s mom and dad, sisters and grampa, and young soldiers who stood guard by the casket. I saw it in the throngs of folks that lined the route to the cemetery, hands over their hearts, waving flags. I happened to meet the eyes of a man riding a bike along the motorcade. He was wearing a t-shirt with an American flag on the front. We exchanged that quick glance of understanding and he put his right hand over his heart. With one hand I gave him the “I love you” sign and with the other snapped a picture. Many Patriot Guard Riders stood guard with flags outside the funeral home and escorted the motorcade to the church and to the cemetery on beautiful motorcycles. On the backs of leather vests were patches, some with names and dates of loved ones fallen in the war. Oh, I was moved in so many ways…
At the funeral, in closing the priest asked, “How do we get through this?” He spoke the soft words of faith, hope and love. It is with the painful beauty of our faith, hope and love that we hold fast, and cherish and use as a crutch to help us to our feet at such times, and we move on. Mary at the foot of the cross where she watched her precious son die, used her faith, hope and love to reach out and take the hand of John whom Jesus entrusted her to. And she moved on… There is nothing new under the sun. Faith, hope and love, takes our painful beauty, our ashes, that over time becomes communion bread and we feed our world.
Our family took a beautiful set of wind chimes to Joe and Janet. The card on the chimes says “faith, hope and love”, which I remembered when the priest spoke those same words; a sign to me. I hope that when those chimes blow in the wind, Joe and Janet will think of the faith, hope and love that surround them and know that all is well in Heaven and will be one day for them.
Poppy, we listen for the chimes and lean into faith, hope and love, moving forward. Help us with the painful cinders, the sore bruising. Help us make the bread…
Isaiah 61:3 “To console, to give beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; the planting of the Lord…”
The rain and thunder woke me in the night and I was happy for the new rose bushes Jon and I planted last evening.
Such gentle persuasion Jon gave to the roses; taking care to dig the hole the right size for each plant, then combining a mixture of peat moss and rich garden dirt along with our soil. I mixed some root solution into water, filling the hole, and then Jon lifted the big plant carefully into place, pressing soft dirt all around the roots. More water and now God has added rain. These roses will be here long after Jon and I have moved on, to give others the joy of their beauty.
We did all we could to help the roses get a good start. It’s good to do what you can and then let God do the rest.
Poppy, as we did with the roses, help us do in the rest of our lives through the gentle persuasion of doing what we can and leaving the rest to you. Somehow, roses are a memorial to me, their loveliness a balm; beauty for ashes, the oil of joy of mourning, a garment of praise to you, O Poppy…
