carpe diem

The beautiful bench that once adorned my cabin has been relocated to our new home.

 When it arrived here, its pink flowers, green ivy, cream backdrop looked foreign to the room in which it was placed. It did not belong there.

 For many years, the bench was the centerpiece in my little cabin across the road, a place that had hosted countless hours of deep discussions, friendship building, as well as solitary quiet for many souls. The cabin stood for hospitality as well as solitude and silence.

The bench was placed in the room that has replaced the cabin in the last few years. This room has taken on its own ambiance; it is a testimony to change: a new season and a new place. As much as I loved the old cabin, I was in the process of relinquishing the past the cabin represented . . . without realizing it.

I delight in the memory of what was.

I remember how God had inspired the idea of making the old dusty granary into a “cabin” where others could come, find rest, fellowship, solitude. That cabin was hallowed by God’s presence in His people who came, shared a cup of coffee/tea as they shared their lives, or in those who came to be silent, alone, and listen to God’s voice of comfort, direction, or restoration.

And, although I find comfort in the memory of the past, I am forced to deal with the present. By the time Sara called me last week and asked if she and Josh could use the cabin as a schoolroom, I was prepared, ready to relinquish my dream.

Despite our fondest dreams, time has a way of moving beyond what once was and is no longer. For days, the bench invaded my space. The bench that I loved sat in front of me demanding that I deal with it. Deal with the idea that what I once felt was my calling to offer a place for solitude and quiet may be different today.

The bench has found a home in the guest bedroom.

Change has a way of becoming either our friend or our enemy.  We are forced to either deal with it, deny it, fight it, or acquiesce to its force and become passively fatalistic.

I choose to deal with the idea that, despite changes in my life, God is still walking before me and inviting me to listen and watch for the next steps He may direct.

What comfort! God is in charge of time: my time as well as the time of our nation and the time of our world.

Footnote: The cabin will still be available for guests who want to spend some time in silence, prayer, and solitude. For scheduling call Troyers at 785-537-0828.

Who Am I? #2

“You need to write a song!” These words coming in Messenger from a nephew startled me. “Who? I don’t write songs!” I wrote back.

“Yes,” he replied. “You.” He proceeded to give me some of his reasons and suggestions.

Both he and his young son have been involved in bands and gigs. They were looking for words that my grand-nephew could put to music for his next gig at The Hard Rock Cafe in their city.

Gazing at Steve’s Facebook picture I tried to see the little boy I once knew. Yes, behind the long gray hair and the white beard I still could see a semblance of that little boy. That sweet three-years-old  boy self-consciously walking down the aisle toward Judd and me carrying a white lace pillow. That gentle little boy sitting on the porch step at Grandma’s house cradling a fluffy gray kitten. That sensitive fun-loving little boy now grown into a man.

Yes, I can write down memories and dreams laced with hope and promises. These words are for you, Steve!

Who Am I?

Just a child full of wonder

In a multi-colored world

Dancing, skipping, laughing

Life is safe, secure, and warm.

Chorus

Set me dancing, skipping, laughing

 In this multi-colored world

Lift my heart to hear the music

To the Mystery of Life.

 

Just a young man reaching out

To a crafty, luring world.

Testing, tasting, and still laughing

Life’s beguiling work’s begun.

 

Just an old man losing foothold

In a crazy, mixed-up world.

Mystified, his search is muddled

For the wonder he once knew.

 

Renovation, renovation

In this old decrepit soul.

Can the potter change this vessel?

Can the child be restored?

Chorus

Set me dancing, skipping, laughing

 In this multi-colored world

Lift my heart to hear the music

To the Mystery of Life.

 

The First Nativity

first BR0001We led the animals down the road, Judd holding the lead ropes to the horse and pony, and I with my bucket of grain for the sheep. The beam from the flashlight Judd held in his free hand lit the way through the darkness. At the bottom of the hill, we turned in to the pole shed area which had become the designated spot for our first nativity program.

The pole shed area boasted of nice round bales that were stored in the shed.  Those bales and the old shed would be the perfect area for our endeavor.   With a concrete slab near the fence and feeding troughs along the edge of the concrete, this area must have been Oscar’s winter feedlot when he farmed here.  The tall, long metal three- sided shed made good shelter, not only for the cattle, but also for hay and farming equipment.

The meadow was familiar territory to our animals for we had on occasion brought them down to graze  the rich Brome.  It was easy to lead them in through the gate and up to the shed.  They were probably thinking it was going to be an adventure in grazing.

The germ of an idea had grown into a plan, and that plan was being carried out by all of our Wellspring group. The beauty of community! Imagining together, working together, and supporting each other as we live out various aspects of God’s truth.   This is true worship.

Preparation was pretty simple. One of the mothers had found a pattern for cardboard angel wings and had made some simple white costumes. There would be a Mary and Joseph in bathrobes and shawls and a baby wrapped in a nice white blanket, with a few little shepherds to stand by the sheep.  The script was simple scripture from Luke, and the songs were carols that we all knew.

We tied the horses near the hay and coaxed the sheep near to the manger where a “shepherd” would guard them carefully.

Someone  had already hung a couple  lanterns and had built a fire in the fire pit close to the manger.  A soft flickering glow from the fire added to  the rustic scene.  As smoke wafted out into the small meadow, the nostalgic smells of campfires added to our anticipation.

Gathering around the fire, we  waited for everyone to arrive. Slowly the moms and dads, children and college students began to join us around the fire.

We were ready. Moms and Dads lifted the two and three-year-old angels up on the large bales where they perched (or sat) in expectation of the unfolding scene.
To begin, we distributed a simple white sheet with the verses we would read from Luke, interspersed with a few carols.  The first reader began: “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree . . .   .”

The second reader continued: “4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, . . . and when the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.”

Now we focused on the manger. Ah, the simple, the quiet, the holy. And we sang quietly, “Silent Night, Holy Night.”

“All is calm, all is bright.”Yes the quiet and the calm surrounded us.

We continued through the rest of the story, the sheep and little shepherds standing guard over Mary, Joseph, and the babe in the manger.

At one point we were interrupted by one of the little angels protesting loudly, “Stop! Mommy, the horse is eating my hay bale!” We all giggled, someone repositioned the horse, and we continued with the next reader.

 And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.. . .  
 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying , “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

Now was the angels’ time to sing their hearts out. “Angels we have heard on high . . . .”   I watched in amusement as one little angel  filled her lungs, and sang at the top of her pint sized voice, and I wondered  what God might have in store for this little angel. Today that litle angel, Leta, is a grown-up angelic singer and server in the kingdom of God with The Salvation Army. Just one story of so many of those little angels who are serving God as adults today.

We finished the evening with the rest of the passage, ending with verse 20: “The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.”

After putting out the fire in the pit, and gathering up the horses and sheep, we headed from the meadow to the road and back to the house for hot chocolate. And so we also”returned” glorifying and praising God for all we had seen and heard. Yes, this was an experience we wanted to replay in our memories for a long time.  Little did we realize the legacy we had begun.