Make our “not enough,” enough!

As Hurricane Harvey’s first wave of devastation landed, news media began to flood my television twenty-four hours a day with picture after picture of horrific damage and loss in the Rockport and Victoria areas of the Coastal Bend. All the while I sat cool and comfortable in my home. My elderly parents and youngest brother were safe, temporarily riding out the storm with us. After checking in with my family located all along the Gulf Coast, despite some lacking electricity, all were safe and accounted for.

I knew several others with damage to their recreational homes at the bay, but most felt blessed because they missed the eye of the storm.

Then Harvey did his dance along the Gulf Coast and the torrential rains flooded Houston. More lives were at stake and heroic scenes flooded my television, Facebook and Instagram feeds. People on rooftops because floodwaters had chased them there. Boats filled with first responders and volunteers trying to get there before it was too late. All the while, I had electricity. I had water and food. Yes, continued threats of possible flooding in my area of the Gulf Coast created challenges in preparation of our offices, but it dimmed in comparison to the plight of others.

We were high and dry; yet, as we strategized preparations for our office, just in case, I watched television footage of one of my partner’s elderly loved ones being rescued from the floodwaters in Houston. There was a name. A face. A connection to this unfolding tragedy.

Harvey’s dance wasn’t over.

With Houston underwater, now Harvey danced with the rivers and streams surrounding my county–Wharton County. Warnings of flooding threats amped up and filled Facebook and social media. Local radio stations worked to warn our residents. Harvey had made landfall on Friday. It was now mid-week. Our local store shelves were empty, barren aisles. Fuel was in short supply. My husband had been working long hours for over a week delivering fuel in preparation for Harvey and now he worked 15 hour days distributing fuel where most needed as Harvey danced along the coast. Fuel pumps were wrapped and closed, out of gas. How could all this be?

Our office had staff members in harm’s way. With all that we had seen so far of Harvey, no one knew what to expect. Harvey did. Flooding reached near record levels and our county seat, Wharton, was underwater. Small communities in our county like Glen Flora, East Bernard, and Spanish Camp were ravaged with floodwaters, animals and livestock stranded and lost in  the high waters.

Fortunately, our office family members were spared water in their homes, though they were surrounded by floodwaters. At the worst of Harvey, my home was surrounded by cotton fields turned into lakes, but we were safe and dry. Now, Harvey flooded our major thoroughfare, Highway 59, as it sat underwater and closed to traffic less than four miles from my home. The blinking red & blue lights warning of floodwaters visible from my living room window.

Half of our county (El Campo) was spared, but cut off from the other parts sitting underwater. Road closures were everywhere. Harvey didn’t want to stop dancing.

As the week progressed, I felt small. Helpless. Overwhelmed by the widespread devastation. I worried about my husband’s lack of sleep as he continued to work long hours. I struggled with my emotions and why I sat in a home with the comforts of air conditioning and running water while others all around me, in every direction, were dealt tragedy. My email and social media were filled with financial requests.

My head spun, my heart ached. Who could I help? How could I help?

El Campoans stepped up in full force. Many doing the backbreaking work of cleaning and clearing the muck of Harvey’s floodwaters. Heroic, hard work. But some of us, like me, may have physical limitations that prevent us from doing that kind of work. Some were at workplaces, trying to keep small businesses open and available, providing supplies and services to those in need, despite the challenges of potential flooding and a shortage of employees due to Harvey’s wrath.

As calls for help continued, I felt useless. I felt guilty because I couldn’t get into the muck and mire to do the backbreaking cleanup. I cleaned my daughter’s closet and donated clothing. That was not enough. I made financial donations. Not enough. I made sure my husband was fed and taken care of so he could get a few hours rest before heading off to work another 15 hour workday. Not enough. I cooked a homemade meal for a displaced family. Not enough. I made a financial donation to another worthy cleanup cause, but the dollar amount seemed insufficient.

Not enough.

As night fell on the eighth day of Harvey’s wrath, I sat alone waiting for my husband’s return from another long day of work, a hot, home-cooked meal waiting for him. The hours slowly ticked by and the restlessness and struggle of how to help overwhelmed me. I needed to do MORE. What could I do?

In those moments, I’ve learned to turn to God. I prayed and then picked up a book by an encouraging, loving Christian author, Suzie Eller. My bookmark was at Chapter 6 of “Come With Me” so I simply started there. That was God’s wink at me. He’s so very good at that because the words were relevant and just what I needed. In that chapter, Suzie talks about how “our not enough becomes more than enough when we give it to God.”

These words calmed my restlessness and focused my mind on the situation at hand:

Whatever big thing you’re facing, God not only sees it, but is waiting for you. Step toward him with your hands raised high, no-holds barred, bringing him every uncertainty, every hope, all your fears, all your strength, every aspect of your situation. The “big” is birthed inside you as you believe that he can do something with the little that you do have.

Eller, Suzanne. Come with Me. Bethany House, 2016.

Harvey finished his dance in East Texas, leaving a wake of devastation and tragedy in a huge area of Texas. Everyone here knows the name of someone personally devastated by Harvey. Recovery will be a long, challenging, tear-stained road. It’s “not enough” will cross your mind, and mine, many times as we all work together to help rebuild and support those who have lost so much.

We all have different gifts and different capabilities, but there is a time and place for every kind and every type of help we can offer.

Today, backbreaking, sweaty, mosquito-filled work is the priority to clean the muck. Opening homes, shelters, offering free campsites and RVs to provide a warm bed and roof over those displaced has been key to make sure everyone is safely housed. Hot meals offer hope, love, and kindness at the end of a long day.

Tomorrow as we return to the workplace, we’ll help maintain and rebuild an economy that can financially support recovery efforts and those in need. In the days to come, the focus will shift to returning as many to their homes as possible, re-opening schools, handling insurance claims, rebuilding where necessary, and a very lengthy return to some type of normalcy.

In the aftermath of Harvey, we’re facing a big recovery effort, but remember God sees it.

Step toward him with every fear and every need. Keep doing. Keep giving. Whatever that may be. Whatever you can do. Though you may feel your efforts are “not enough,” remember God will turn our collective “not enough” into enough.

“Our not enough becomes more than enough when we give it to God.”

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Pass the Salt, Please!

How often do you hear, “Pass the salt, please?” as you sit around your dinner table. It’s a daily occurrence in my family. When it comes to food, we’re a well-seasoned family.

But are we well-seasoned in our faith?

Recently a verse piqued my interest as I studied the book of Leviticus:

Season all your grain offerings with salt. Do not leave the salt of the covenant of your God out of your grain offerings; add salt to all your offerings.” Leviticus 2:13

God covenants with Abraham, “You will be father of many nations and kings will come from you.” God establishes an everlasting covenant to be the God of Abraham and his descendants. God promises them possession of the whole land of Canaan, the land of milk and honey. God covenants, “I will be your God.”

After almost 400 years of slavery, God freed the Israelites and led them safely out of Egypt. At the foot of Mount Sinai, that covenant between God and the Israelites was confirmed.

In the wilderness, as the Israelites journeyed to the promised land, God perpetually gave Aaron all the holy offerings presented to the Lord. “It is a covenant of salt forever before the Lord for you and your descendants as well.” Numbers 18:19

God promises to provide. Yet, the Israelites failed to keep God’s covenant.

They failed to pass the salt. We do, too.

Fortunately for us, God loves us despite our failures and pursues us in spite of them. He offers Jesus Christ as “the mediator of the new covenant, so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance because a death has occurred that redeems them from the transgressions under the first covenant.” Hebrews 9:15

God knew that it was impossible for us to fulfill the law of the covenant. In His steadfast love, He sent Jesus Christ to fulfill the law, once and for all.

God covenants. He promises. But, are we well-seasoned in our faith to trust His promises?

Do we leave out the salt?

I don’t know about you, but I need visual reminders to keep up with important things. I’m the queen of post-it notes. They’re plastered all around my desk. Framed scripture verses and inspirational quotes adorn my desk at work and home. A crystal cross sits on my Bible study desk reminding me daily that Jesus took my sins to the cross. I wear my Emmaus bracelet made of brass fishing lures dotted with rainbow colored beads continually–twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I never take it off. Why? It reminds me of something important. God is always with me.

My Creator knows this about me. After all, He created me. He knows we need visual reminders. Maybe that’s partly why He commands, “Add salt to all your offerings.”

Why salt? Besides being a valuable commodity in Biblical times, it’s an excellent preservative. It cures.

It’s also an excellent seasoning; a favorite, in fact.

The next time we pass the salt around our dinner table, I’ll season my faith and remember:

  • Just as salt preserves, God’s love is perpetual.
  • Just as salt cures, God heals.
  • Just as salt seasons, I will taste and see that the Lord is good!

Together, let’s pass the salt.

How God Turns Never into Now

My cell phone rings and caller ID shows it’s my college-aged daughter. The conversation goes like this.

Meredith: Hey Mom! I’m thinking about going on a mission trip to Haiti.

Me: “Meredith, is it safe there? Why do you want to go there? Why do you think you need to go there? I’ll have to get more information and then we’ll have to talk about this with your dad.”

Meredith happily gave me the telephone number for the mission trip coordinator. I called the next day, my interrogation skills primed.

Me: What about safety? Is it safe to travel from Port-au-Prince to your location? What about safety at your location?

Coordinator: Yes, ma’am! We have our own buses to transport mission trip participants from the airport to our campus and our entire premises are enclosed by high fence. Plus, it’s patrolled twenty-four hours a day by security guards with guns.

Me: Thank you for the information. You’ve been extremely helpful. God bless.

As I hung up the phone, I uttered under my breath, “Meredith is never going there.”

She didn’t in 2012.

She did in 2013.

She returned from a week in Haiti with eyes sparkling and heart bursting with love for the people there. She met and sponsored a little six-year boy named Junior at the mission school. She cried as she spoke about him. Every time.

I expected her glow and enthusiasm to wear off as spring turned to summer. It didn’t. She spoke incessantly about Junior, her mission trip team members, the Haitian people, and every single occurrence on the trip. She often mentioned leaving a piece of her heart in Haiti and I sensed her deep longing to return. Even while she was home for the Christmas holidays, a piece of her heart remained in Haiti.

We flipped the calendar to a new year and Meredith returned to college. Her life was busy with college volleyball and classes. I was busy with year end accounting and tax deadlines at work, exhausted, and sleeping soundly every night. Until late January.

I jumped and woke from a deep sleep with the remnants of a dream playing on my mind and one thought, “You should go to Haiti with Meredith.”

Never.

I shoved the thought from my mind and fell back asleep.

Over the next month, I regularly woke in the middle of the night with the same dream and same message, “You and Meredith should go to Haiti.”

I could never do that.

I dared not tell anyone, especially Meredith. I knew if I did, I’d never get out of going.

Finally, after six weeks of those middle-of-the-night wake up calls, I confided in my best friend, Jackie. Instead of my never, she said, “Why not? Let’s do it!”

After that conversation, I still woke with that same dream, at least once a week, but now my never turned into long nights of lying awake pondering “Could I ever do that?”

Yes, I could. And yes I did.

That summer my daughter returned to Haiti with one of her best friends, Amanda, Jackie, and me alongside. The four of us boarded a plane to Haiti, my first international trip, and served together for eight glorious days. I never dreamed I could do such a thing, but God did. I never imagined what God did. I never hoped as big as God did. I never saw the possibilities in me that God did.

When I thought I could never endure a whole week of planting trees in Haiti, God planted precious little girls on my lap every morning for Vacation Bible School instead. God turned my never into now–now was the time to love, hug, and sing “Jezi loves you” to those beautiful, brown-eyed little girls while sitting in the shade of an open-aired church, cooled by the gentle island breeze.  

When the physical limitations of my weak back told me, “You could never do that; you’ll be a liability to the rest of the team,” my loving team, affectionately named “Team Awesome,” found ways to use my strengths to be a productive participant. I sat to shovel rocks from the deep hole the others dug for the coconut tree we planted and I stood for bearable periods of time using my 6-foot height and long arms to paint the walls and trim inside the house that others couldn’t reach.

God does indeed turn never into now.

On our last morning in Haiti, I cried as members of Team Awesome, the “Georgia group,” boarded the first bus to depart. I turned away so others didn’t see, but my ever-watchful Meredith did. She came over to hug me and whispered, “Why are you crying?” I don’t know was my honest answer as I wept unexplainably. She squeezed me tighter and softly said, “I understand, mom.”   She did. And now I did, too. As each group left that morning, more tears fell.

These people were a part of helping me accomplish something I never thought I could do.

These people loved me even though I was weak and had limitations.

These people helped me conquer fears.

Serenading us in song as we washed stacks of dishes, offering a helping hand as I conquered the giant rope swing to get off and on the cantor truck, and knowing just when to encourage me throughout the week, every member of Team Awesome was part of God’s plan.

He turned my never into now.  

“With God all things are possible.” Mathew 19:26

 

Celebrating My “Redreamer”

Yesterday I celebrated my 54th birthday. As I spent the day with my precious family, the three of us road-tripped thirty miles to a nearby vineyard. With no set plans for the day, it was simply a day to relax and spend time together. We taste-tested assorted offerings at the vineyard and peppered them with our family brand of “nerdy” questions.

Just how many grapes does it take to make a bottle of wine?

With some exerted effort to recall our math and a few laughs, we solved that question. One gallon of grapes makes five bottles of wine. Trust me, it took much less effort to select our favorite wine—a crisp, cool, white wine with hints of peach. With our favorite selected, we made our way to the patio outside for an impromptu picnic of assorted cheese and crackers. There was no fanfare; plastic knives to slice the cheese and white napkins served as our plates. But, I was surrounded by my husband, our beloved daughter, and my dearest friend. My blessings from God.

Have you ever pinched yourself, just to be sure something was real? I’ve had several of those moments recently and they remind me of the wonder and awe of our majestic, loving God.

Yesterday was one of my “pinch myself” moments. That best friend laughing with us–she’s been my shoulder through some really difficult, dark times. She’s seen me at my worst. She’s held my hand when I felt lost and lonely, prayed for me when I couldn’t pray for myself, and lovingly nudged me to re-focus on our merciful God, the Provider of all things, the Healer of all pains. Yesterday, she and my little family of three basked in His sunshine and provision, laughing at the good times we’ve had and the good times to come. The healing touch of God revealed in my family overwhelms my heart with joy. And I just have to pinch myself as I count my blessings.

Five years ago, I submitted my hurt to God on a Walk to Emmaus and He began replacing that pain with joy. He continues to replace pain with joy, healing hearts one day at a time as our family, all three of us, focus on the goodness and wonder of our Savior. He is our Redeemer and He is my “Redreamer.” Not only has He replaced pain with joy, He restored my dreams. I had given up and buried them for years. They weren’t worth it.

But, in God’s restorative powers, I believe in my dreams again, my family believes in them, and I believe in God’s purpose for them.

 “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me, I will hear you. Jeremiah 29:11-12

So yesterday, I thanked my “Redreamer” and pinched myself again as I celebrated 54 years on earth, five years of God-inspired faith-filled joy, and one year of believing in God’s dreams for me.

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” C.S. Lewis

Christ and Crepes? Yes!

A burst of laughter rang out. I spun to witness a crepe in mid-air landing perfectly on Meredith’s crepe pan. Meredith and Steve broke out in a touchdown-like celebration filled with high fives and fist pumps. They laughed uncontrollably and cheered. I chuckled to myself and thought, “even in learning to make crepes, there’s competition!” I returned to my task…sautéing mushrooms, onions, chicken and mastering a mornay sauce to fill those flying crepes.

My favorite weekends are mom and daughter weekends spent with Meredith. On a recent trip to Dallas to see her, we signed up for a cooking class. Sweet and savory crepes were the challenge. I had no doubt we were in store for a treat and more treasured memories, but that day I mastered crepes and learned so much more.

Steve and his wife had also registered for the class. Steve had a little competitive streak, just like my Meredith. As the class progressed, Meredith and Steve teamed up over the range to flip crepe after crepe. Steve was around my age, old enough to be Meredith’s dad, but their conversation never lulled. As Steve’s wife and I prepared fillings for our sweet and savory crepes, I overheard their conversation. They talked jobs and travel, the usual stuff, and then the conversation segued to Christ. In the middle of flipping crepes, Meredith shared her belief in Jesus Christ and tales of her recent mission trip to the “Island of Old Cars.” Steve listened intently, respecting and absorbing every word.

“How does she do that,” I wondered.

If you’re like me, I’m not that comfortable talking about my faith. For years, I’ve felt inadequate in knowledge and feared being tested so I lived my faith under the radar, in my home and in my church. Comfortable and untested. Neatly compartmentalized. But that’s not what Jesus calls us to do.

Go into the world and preach the gospel to all creation. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.” Mark 16:15-16

As I eavesdropped on Meredith and Steve’s conversation, I realized that Jesus Christ fits in every conversation, even while flipping crepes in a cooking class. As Christ-followers, our belief in Jesus Christ should be so comfortable and natural to us that we inject His story in every conversation, discuss His word in every situation. Can you imagine our world if we did that?

Maybe it’s time that Christians make talking about Christ as common as talking about the weather.

But what if you’re like me, uncomfortable?

Faith is like a child, growing from infant to adult, each child masters milestones at different paces until adulthood is achieved. If you’re an infant in your faith, pick one book of the Bible and read it slowly. Study it. Pray about it. Then read another one. As you spend time reading the Bible, knowledge and confidence replace those feelings of inadequacy.

When those feelings of inadequacy are erased, choose a trusted friend and intentionally make conversation about Jesus Christ a central part of your conversation. Just as it takes practice for a toddler to master walking, it takes practice becoming comfortable expressing your faith. Share your faith story with your trusted friend, a bit at a time, and ask her to share her faith story with you. Let your faith journey unfold in the comfort of that trusted friend. Together your faith will multiply.

I’m somewhere in between that toddler and pre-teen stage and Jackie is my chosen, trusted friend. For several years now, we talk about the Bible, talk about our faith, our strengths and where we fail. We read parts of the Bible and then question each other, fleshing out God’s truth and guidance as we tackle the daily issues of life. Whether discussing football or political candidates, most of our conversations naturally center on Christ and that’s comfortable. With each conversation and each passing day, I’m becoming more confident and bold in my faith. I’m growing into an adult–that mature Christ-follower God seeks–naturally sharing my faith in conversations with friends and strangers, just like the weather. Even if they’re flipping crepes.

As we give our time to God, we’ll feel His presence and His comfort. He’ll guide us to include Jesus Christ in our everyday conversations, first with friends, then with strangers. Together we will preach the gospel to all creation.

Just like crepes, conversations about Jesus Christ are sweet and meant to be savored!

Faith Notes

I started piano lessons in the first grade. According to my mom, I banged rhythms on pots, pans and everything in sight so she signed me up for piano. My first teacher was our church’s organist. After I learned the basics, church hymns quickly became my practice material.

Trust me, I was no child prodigy. But to my Grandma Tegeler, I was…at least she made me feel that way!

Growing up in my little hometown with only one stop light, I’d ride my bike across town to Grandma’s house. In her sitting room sat a small Spinet organ, out of tune but with just enough octaves to practice. No matter what she was doing, we always ended up in that sitting room. I sat at that organ; she sat next to me in her rocking chair. Grandma would pick up her hymnal, call out one of her favorite hymns, and I’d do my best to play the hymn. I missed plenty of notes, but it didn’t matter to Grandma. If I struggled with a hymn, she simply encouraged me and read her Bible as I worked on the rough spots. When I learned a hymn so that the notes at least resembled the tune, we sang it together, over and over. Those hymns represented a repertoire of Grandma’s life in the church. Before we finished one hymn, Grandma had the next one picked. As the time came for me to bike back home, she always requested one last hymn–her favorite, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” The first hymn I learned. Despite fumbling through most of the other hymns, I knew every note and every word of that hymn.

As a young girl, my Grandma Tegeler influenced my faith more than anyone else. Those singing sessions on her Spinet were more than piano practices, they were faith lessons. Just as I learned the notes of piano, she taught me the notes of faith found in the Bible. During those sessions, I soaked up her steadfast faith in Jesus Christ. Grandma not only taught me every single word of “What a Friend I Have in Jesus,” she lived her life modeling every single verse.

Have we trials and temptations? Take it to the Lord in prayer.

Are we weak and heavy laden? Take it to the Lord in prayer.

As I’ve traveled the road of my adult life, my Grandma has been gone for a number of years, but those precious hymn sessions stuck with me. As I struggle through a situation, I remember those faith notes.

I do have a friend in Jesus Christ. You do too. Take it to the Lord in prayer.

Blessings,
Monica

P.S. In homage to my Grandma, I’ve posted her coffee cake recipe on my page titled “Recipes…made with love!” Between her jelly roll and coffee cake, she was always ready for visitors:)

A Simple Touch in the Midst of Chaos

I slid my hand into his large, calloused hand. And wept.

I wept over the chaos in our lives, the turmoil within our congregation. I wept because he didn’t reject my hand. I wept for the hope and promise beget in that small gesture. “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors” washed over me like a gentle summer rain. My voice quivered. More tears stained my face as the God-breathed prayer assured of forgiveness.

I’ve visited many churches and participated in many Christian activities where holding hands during a prayer is common. My husband has not. Our church does not. I respond to touch; I’m a hugger. My husband, Gary, not so much.

Chaos and overwhelming tasks have prevailed in our lives for quite some time. I desperately want to share with Gary the overwhelming love and peace I find in Jesus Christ. As iron sharpens iron, I long to dive into God’s word together. To challenge, to question, to absorb the scriptures together.

For several weeks now I’ve sat beside him in the church pew and prayed for the courage to reach over and take his hand in mine during the Lord’s Prayer. One small gesture that may lead him to feel God’s love as I do, to thirst God’s word as I thirst. Two weeks ago, I read the order of service in the bulletin, saw the familiar prayer, and began to pray for courage. I felt God’s assurance. I was determined this was the day. Then suddenly, with a tap on his shoulder, Gary stood to assist with the offering. After serving, he took a seat in the usher’s chair rather than returning to our pew—missed chance. My heart sank.

Sunday I repeated the prayer for courage as we sat down in the pew together. “Our Father who art in heaven”…I discreetly slid my hand over…“hallowed be thy name”…a second, more assertive nudge…“thy kingdom come”…and then he opened his hand to mine, our hands clasped together…“thy will be done”…my heart warmed. The tears fell.

At Bible Study this week, our women’s group discussed how the spirit of God hovered over the chaos and darkness before God commanded creation into being. God was present in that chaos. God is present in today’s chaos.

Just as God created the majestic heavens and earth out of chaos and darkness, God is creating something miraculous out of the chaos in our lives.

Rolled in Faith, Sprinkled in Love!

Simpler times. I find myself wishing for them.

As a young girl, I spent a lot of time in my Grandma Tegeler’s kitchen. She always had fresh baked goodies ready just in case someone stopped by to visit. Someone always did. Ladies from the church, the pastor, neighbors, family. Grandma was always ready to pour a cup of coffee and offer a slice of her fresh baked jelly roll. That was the neighborly thing to do.

I miss those days. Today’s rigid schedules of play dates and meetings seem to lack the spontaneity and authenticity of yesteryear’s drop in visits. I have fond memories of unplanned, last minute visits on many Saturday nights growing up. My parents had a circle of close friends–Shorty & Lucy, Georgia & Alvin–with children similar in age to me and my siblings. After a day of chores, with just a quick phone call, we were loaded in the car and headed over to one of their houses for an evening of fun. Dominoes for the adults, catching lightening bugs, playing in the creek, climbing trees, and hide and seek for the kids.

My Grandma and my parents made time for family and friends. They were always ready just in case someone called or dropped by to visit. For those who know me personally, you know I’m not ready.

To do lists overwhelm. Schedules overlap. Obligations siphon precious time out of my day. But even Jesus made time for rest commanding his apostles, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” Mark 6:31. Jesus also taught usto love our neighbors as ourselves.” Matthew 19:19.

Those impromptu visits of my childhood were opportunities to rest from the chores of the day while loving our neighbors at the same time. From pre-teens then to adults now, our paths have taken us on many different journeys, but we pick right back up as if time stood still when our hurried paths cross. Exchanging hugs, bonds created more than forty years ago still remain. In those moments, love resurfaces.

I want to get ready, just in case. I yearn to rest in the company of a long-time friend. I long to live my life in a way that I’ll be ready for a spontaneous visit, a cup of coffee, and time together with Jesus. With the hurried pace of this world, undoubtedly I will fail, but when I take time for one friend, one family member, just one person, love wins.

Christ wins.

Craving those simpler times, I’ve been determined to find Grandma’s recipe. I found it, along with several others! Just a few weeks ago, I baked my first jelly roll in more than twenty-five years.  I’ll bake more.  Just like Grandma, I’m getting ready to serve a cup of coffee and a slice of jelly roll…rolled in faith and sprinkled with Christ’s love!

Together in Christ,
Monica

As a bonus, you can find Grandma Tegeler’s jelly roll recipe on my “Recipes…made with love” page. Enjoy!

 

 

Living Forward

Sometimes it’s easy to get stuck in the “stuff.” We hold onto things with sentimental value thinking it means we love someone.

I’m guilty. My family is guilty.

My husband, Gary, is an only child. Our house is filled with furniture, dishes, and knick-knacks after the loss of his aunt and his mom. We have boxes of things from his uncle stacked in storage. The items mean something to us, evoke wonderful memories, but at this point we don’t even know what’s in the boxes anymore.

Tomorrow marks one year since Gary’s dad left this earth and met our heavenly Father. Meredith’s beloved Grandpa. Our courageous “Grandpa.” Just a stone’s throw down the road sets his wood frame home filled with 1,300 square feet of more stuff. There’s a barn filled with the things that he touched, he tinkered with, he made. Grandpa was the great repurposer. He repurposed before “repurpose” became a popular concept. Surviving the depression, he always said, “I might need that.”

Do we feel overwhelmed? Yes.

We love Grandpa and we miss him. We love Micki & Sammy, Gary’s mom & aunt, and we still miss them after 18 years. But it is time for us to look forward, rather than backward, and we’re taking the first step: realizing that the present is the three of us and God has great plans for us. And, we’re striving to take the second step: acknowledging that we can’t keep all of the stuff that holds sentimental value to us.

As I mowed our yard recently, Grandpa’s yellow house stood brightly against the blue sky. With an acre to mow, I had lots of time to think about all the contents sitting in that house, mentally walking through each room. For the first time in a year, I felt no guilt as I pondered the items to remove from Grandpa’s house and place in the first garage sale. To let stuff go. My thoughts wandered from Grandpa’s stuff to the 24 year old baby bed, stroller, and high chair filling up a dilapidated storage building on our property, faded and covered in dust. “Let it go,” God whispered.

That first garage sale was yesterday.

Living forward won. Guilt lost. Our love isn’t in the stuff. It’s in the time we spend together and memories we make while living life in the present. Living forward means living in the now, living for the three of us, loving each other, encouraging each other, planning new adventures and creating memories while we continue to grow in faith, together and separately.

Living forward…that’s what God wants us to do. Holding onto stuff can be stifling and burdensome; love loses when you’re overwhelmed. Stuff won’t make our love stronger. Living life fully will.

Grandpa grew up in the roaring 20’s, survived the Great Depression, went to battle and sailed the oceans in World War II. He lived fully, and loved God and family for 92 years so I know he’d want us to do the same. Love isn’t in holding onto his stuff. His love remains in our hearts and vibrantly lives in our memories; nothing can take that away.

Today we begin living forward. Gary, Meredith & I choose to love God and each other, letting go of the stuff while wrapped in the memories of the love we shared with Grandpa, Grandma, and Aunt Sammy.

How about you? Are you overwhelmed with stored treasures, holding onto the past? Are you holding onto stuff rather than living forward?

Jesus tells us in Matthew 6:19-21, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Today, look upward. Living forward.