Fight in TJ Maxx

I keep reliving a scene I witnessed a few weeks ago. I was in one of my favorite retail establishments in Myrtle Beach when I heard a loud, angry voice. It was coming from a man standing in the aisle who was evidently upset with the way the young woman he was with had disciplined a child. He used the f-word a couple of times and then added the b-word to it. By this time, the small child was crying, and the woman was talking back. Actually, they seemed pretty evenly matched as far as their yelling obscenities skills were concerned. Neither seemed aware of the sobbing child, and as they walked away towards the door, both were still hurling insults and threats


Everyone around me stopped to gawk. It’s not that we wanted to. We just didn’t know what to do or if we should do anything. A woman looking at the same merchandise that I was said, “Look at my arms! There are goose bumps everywhere!” Seriously, you could have heard a pin drop.

One of my daughters was with me but had opted to stay in car. When I rejoined her, she said, “Mama, you wouldn’t believe what I just saw.” She proceeded to tell me about the fighting couple and what had happened in the parking lot. The young woman had physically attacked him and walked off with the child, and the man had stomped off in a different direction.

Where is this young woman today? Is she raising the child alone? Was the verbally abusive young man the father of the child? Are they married? Are they still together? If so, is it because she has no recourse at the moment, or is it because she genuinely loves the guy? Did my little window of into their lives reveal a rare moment of anger, or was that typical of their lives? Why didn’t either of them notice the sobbing child?

What I think is that women who are abused, neglected, hurt, cast aside, downtrodden, abandoned, or depressed have a God who loves them. I also think that sometimes emotional and psychological pain can be so horrific and overwhelming that a person can’t think straight, much less feel His spirit. All she can do is feel distress and despair, and unless someone helps her, her life could continue a downward spiral.

Several women in the Bible suffered rejection, sadness, betrayal, and heartache. For starters, there’s Hagar who, at Sarah’s request, was banished by Abraham to the desert with her son Ishmael. It’s not as though they were sent on a trip. They were sent there to die! Sure, Abraham sent them away with bread and a bottle of water, but how long was that supposed to last? Fortunately for Hagar, God saved their lives and promised to make Ishmael “a great nation.” (Genesis 21:18)

And there’s Tamar, the beautiful daughter of David who was raped by her half-brother Amnon. Using the ruse of illness, he requested that she bring food to his room, and although she begged him not to, he raped his half-sister. After the rape, Amnon “hated her exceedingly” and told her to “Arise, be gone.” (2 Samuel 13:15) Tamar is devastated by this act, and although her father David is angry about it, he apparently does nothing. Her brother Absalom takes her into his home, and two years later, he arranges for Amnon’s death (2 Samuel 13:28). I’ve often wondered whether Amnon’s murder affected Tamar’s well-being.

Fast forward to the New Testament, specifically the 8th chapter of John in which scribes and Pharisees bring Christ a woman caught in the act of adultery. As an aside, I’ve often wondered who and where her partner was. Her accusers remind Christ that according to Mosaic law, she should be stoned. He ponders for a moment, writes something in the sand, and then instructs whoever is without sin to cast the first stone. Just He and the accused woman are left, and He says, “Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.”

What all three of these instances share with that of the young woman in TJ Maxx is that they each portray a woman who is downtrodden, betrayed, shunned, ridiculed, or hurt. While I don’t profess to know how it works, I know that His love is available to all women. Neither condemning nor chastising, He is there.

Watch Out!

I love my little grandchildren! In fact, I dote on them so much that I’ve picked up my friend Connie’s moniker of “granddarlings” when describing them. When I’m near them, I have a tendency to overindulge them, and when I’m away from them, I fret unnecessarily about whether they’re eating enough veggies and drinking enough milk.


I know that most grandmothers feel the same love and concern for their posterity as I do, and it makes me wonder why there aren’t more of them mentioned in the Bible. I could be wrong, but I think Lois is the only one. She’s Eunice’s mother and Timothy’s grandmother. She must have been quite a woman of faith to have been so influential in his life, and Paul praises her in a letter to Timothy, “When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice.” (II Timothy 1: 5)

I’m not claiming to have Lois’s spiritual stature. I'm just saying that a recent incident reminded me of just how influential I and other grandmothers can be.

My granddaughter Olivia had her first birthday last month, and she and her parents celebrated at my house. Using my iPhone, I took several short videos, and after viewing my favorite several times, I had the conversations and movements of my three granddaughters memorized. Only then did I begin zeroing in on the voice in the background, mine. As I followed the birthday girl and her pretty cousins from room to room, I constantly gave them warnings and instructions…in a loving way, of course.

As the video begins, Olivia is walking steadily across the kitchen, and as she nears the refrigerator, her gait is a bit wobbly, and it looks as though she might lose her balance. But no, she recovers quickly and moves towards the study. As she does so, the tiny tot realizes that there’s a threshold, a raised one that she must navigate. She puts her hand on the wall to steady herself and then takes a tentative step. In the background, Grandmama says, “Watch out, watch out. Be careful, Little One.”

A moment later, she’s rushing toward the kitchen again, this time with Brooke and Emma behind her. Once they’re all in the kitchen, Emma hugs her little cousin and when she releases her, Olivia falls. Undeterred, she immediately gets up and begins that race walking speed of hers. In the background, Grandmama says, “That’s right. Just get right back up and get going again.”

She heads to the bathroom and stares in through the open door. Remembering that she had locked herself in there earlier in the afternoon, Grandmama says to Brooke and Emma, “Watch out for her. She’s already locked herself in there once.” Her cousins do as instructed and rescue Olivia who then runs toward the study again. Once there, she plops down on the floor and pulls down a cookbook to look at. Grandmama can be heard in the background making a comment about reading.

In slightly over a minute, Grandmama has given some important life lessons:

• Watch out, especially when you’re walking over a threshold from one area of your life to another.
• Be careful.
• Get back up when you fall.
• Watch after each other.
• Delve into the books.

I’m not of shooting for the “Lois Award.” I’m just trying to be a good grandmother, and that short video shows that I’m on the right track. If a grandmother can say that much in slightly over a minute, just think what she (we) could do over a child's lifetime!

What about you? Are you a grandmother who’s involved in your grandchildren’s lives? Are there lessons that you're teaching by word and deed?

Amazing Grace

My sister went to a Bible study last week, and Hagar was the topic. You remember her, right? She was Sarah’s servant, the one Sarah “gave” to Abraham so that he/they could have a son. Once while Hagar was expecting and then later when the child was much older, Sarah told Abraham to get Hagar out of her sight. Was she jealous? Angry? I don’t know. I just know that twice the “bondswoman” was banished to the desert, and twice God called her by name and told her what to do.


To Sarah, she was a servant. Apparently (although I could be misinterpreting this), Abraham felt the same way. To God, however, she had a name and a destiny. He was very much aware of her dire circumstances when He spoke to her and told her what to do to save her own life and that of her child’s. Hagar listened.

“Don’t you get it?” my sister Ann asked. “God knew her by name, just like he knows all of us.”

I’ve been thinking of Hagar off and on all week and of how we all have names and missions. We’re not all aware of our gifts and opportunities, however. Maybe we have too much of a bondswoman’s mentality and don’t realize our divine worth. Or then maybe we just don’t listen when He speaks.

When I saw Oprah’s final show on Wednesday, I couldn’t help but think of how that lady has always listened to His voice. I wish I’d watched Oprah more often. Because of work and general “busyness," I never had the opportunity to sit and watch a single show all the way through until Wednesday. Sure, I’ve seen bits and pieces of Oprah over the years, and I’ve often pored over her magazine. And I loved her performance in The Color Purple. Her star quality shone through in Beloved too. My friend Jeanita and I even talked about going to Chicago and trying to get on her show. It never happened, and now it’s too late.

It’s not too late, however, to learn more about this remarkable woman and the gifts she has given to the world. I’m not just talking about cars and scholarships. I’m talking about wisdom, hope, and encouragement. As a friend of mine commented the other day, “Say what you will about Oprah. She’s done more than any human I’ve ever known to share love and largesse.” Martha’s right, of course. Oprah’s generosity of spirit and pocketbook are unparalleled.

As I watched her on stage Wednesday, beautiful and stylish in her pink dress and heels, I marveled at her strength, determination, and intellect. What is it that sets her apart from the rest of us? In addition to her phenomenal gifts, I think it’s also the hand of God AND her awareness of it. I loved it when she acknowledged His constant presence and guidance in her life. He’s there for all of us, even if we don’t know it...or if we know it but don’t give Him credit.

This morning I went online to read a little more about Oprah, and I saw a video clip of Stedman who surprised her at a gala the other night. He walked on stage and basically said, “It really does amaze me that I get to be around a woman who changes peoples' lives every day and who also takes her own lunch to work. I cannot, honey, believe that a colored girl from the backwoods of Mississippi has done all that you have done ... I love you for making a difference in my life."

Stedman then told her something that they both knew, that she’s done it all through God’s amazing grace. She might have some time in the desert, but Oprah, like Hagar, recognized and listened to God’s promptings. Don’t you think it would work for the rest of us? I’ll never be a star, but I know He knows my name.

Don't Look Back

Most mornings, I like to get up before dawn. That way, I can read and write to my heart’s content while the day is still fresh and uncluttered with the crazy busyness of life. Sometimes I’ll read a magazine or a novel that I’m working on for book club, but most of the time I’ll read something inspirational or informative…or both.


This morning I was leafing through a book entitled Gifts of the Spirit that I discovered at a local thrift boutique, The Red Door. By Philip Zaleski and Paul Kaufman, the book is subtitled Living the Wisdom of the Great Religious Traditions and has an overall theme of the importance of contemplation and stillness in daily life. Here’s one of my favorite sentences from the section I read this morning. “When you wake up tomorrow morning, let this be among your first thoughts: now is the time to begin….with the rest of my life before me, a path of unpredictable length and inconceivable wonder.”

Whether good, bad, or neutral, yesterday’s gone. While past events can continue to influence a person, she doesn’t have to remain trapped in the past with its demons. Nor will it do her any good to look longingly at a door that has closed. Now is the time to begin.

In Relief Society today, our teacher mentioned the story of Lot’s wife, and having heard and/or read about the misfortune that befell her when she looked back, I knew the moral of the story before Lisa told us: Don’t look back. Then one of the younger women gave me something to think about that I’d never considered before. She said she could be looking out of her kitchen window washing dishes and have a thought or memory about her past and some of the poor choices she had made and begin to feel anxious and unhappy. Don’t look back has a different but equally important meaning for her. She went on to say that she could choose to stay mired in guilt and shame or she could turn her thoughts to today. She always chooses the latter.

Is it a coincidence that I read the passage from Gifts of the Spirit just a few hours before again hearing of Lot’s wife decision? Maybe. What I most took from these two events is that no matter how many times you read a story, you can always come away with a fresh meaning, a heightened awareness of what was really going on. I’d always assumed that Lot’s wife was looking back with a bittersweet longing, and perhaps that was the case. The lesson is clear, however. Don’t look back.

Now is the time to begin the next chapter in your life, and you can’t do it if you’re a pillar of salt.

The Better Part

I think the highlight of my 2011 Spring Break was an Easter party that I attended in Rincon, GA yesterday afternoon. The event reminded me that I have way too much Martha in me. Seriously, I could almost hear the Savior whispering, “Martha, Martha,” and that’s what prompted me to go.

My purpose for going to Rincon was to see the changes in my daughter’s house and to help her with de-cluttering, cleaning, or watching after her four children so that she could paint, organize, or do whatever else she needed to do in order to get her home and psyche in order for Seth. He’s the baby who will arrive in July, and for the last few weeks, Carrie has been gearing up for his birth. Her daughters now have their bedroom upstairs, and the boys have been moved to the former girls’ room, thus leaving a bedroom free for baby Seth. Plus, the children have new twin beds and the cool bedding to go with them.

Upon arrival, I found Carrie washing dishes and Rich power washing the outside of the house. Within seconds, I could see that even washing dishes was a challenge because of the constant interruptions and needs of the children. I then learned that we only had a couple of hours because Carrie and the kids had been invited to a birthday party. “Go ahead,” I told her. “I can tackle things here on the home front much easier with an empty house.”

The moment the van left the garage, Susie Homemaker swung into action. I cleaned the children’s bathroom, vacuumed the carpet, mopped the kitchen floor and was in the middle of washing, drying, and folding clothes when the crew arrived home from the party. The children showed me their goodies, and the girls asked me to help them make friendship bracelets. I wanted to, and yet I felt determined to finish the laundry. “In a minute,” I promised.

The children began talking about the Easter party scheduled for that same afternoon, and I told Carrie to go ahead and take them. “I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “I still have another load of laundry to fold.”

“Why don’t you go with us?” Carrie asked.

“Well, you know I have to get back to Camden before dark, and I just don’t know if I can finish what I’ve started AND go to the party.”

No reply from Carrie. Then for the third time, Brooke asked, “Grandmama, will you please help me with my bracelet now?”

Truly and sincerely, I heard, “Martha, Martha,” and within seconds, Brooke and I began working on her bracelet. I looked across the table at my tired daughter who was trying to summon the energy for the party and announced that yes, I thought it might be fun to go to a party.
We all piled in the van and rode to one of the most memorable Easter parties I’ve ever attended. The yard was beautiful with flowers, scrubs, goldfish ponds, an arbor, shade trees, and swings. Colton loved the latter; in fact, he made a beeline for a small swing, and except for the times when he was chasing balloons or devouring cupcakes, we knew where to find him.

I looked around, and my heart felt full. When did Braden grow so tall? And then, my granddaughters’ heads were easy to spot as the sun shone on the braids I had woven in their hair before the party. Brooke came over to where I was sitting on a wall enjoying some lemonade and recited the Pledge of Allegiance for me. Braden showed me where his new tooth was coming in. Emma showed me an angry red spot on the top of her foot where a “mosquito ant” had bitten her. Colton’s balloon popped, and undaunted, he marched right over to a clothesline where several were hanging and let the man in charge know that he wanted another one NOW.

There was a toddler there with pretty red hair. And Kim’s little daughter with her stretchy red headband was adorable. I met someone named Shirley who described some lovely places in Washington, thus increasing my desire to stop there when we go to Alaska next year. I also met a man who teaches at a prison, and I observed my sweet daughter conversing with several friends, thus assuring me that although her mama isn’t close by, she’s still being looked after. I ate a chocolate cupcake from LaNae’s table after decorating it with chocolate icing, and then I ate a Ball Park frank.

I sauntered over to the two goldfish ponds and saw these huge colorful fish swimming around and around and around in the pools. Leaning over one pond was one of the cutest little boys I’ve ever seen, and he was trying to catch one of the fish. He looked up at me long enough to say that he was going to catch one to take home to put in his goldfish bowl because his fish had died.

Sounds of laughter, conversation, and squeals of delighted children were all around me. And lest I forget, there was music, including “Here Comes Peter Cottontail.” The kids went on an egg hunt, and they all came back with full baskets of plastic eggs and treats. All that and more I would have missed if I’d stayed in my Martha mode. Instead, I chose the “better part,” and today I much richer for it.

Living the Dream

I’ve often remarked that the combination of religion and psychology has saved my life on innumerable occasions. Okay, maybe they haven’t saved my life, but they’ve certainly made it more enjoyable and comprehensible. I’ve gained insight, latched on to hope, been courageous, and exercised faith because of something I’ve read in either the Scriptures or in some psychological publication. I’d go as far as to say that religion and psychology overlap in many instances, especially those that indicate how to live a better life.


Here’s an example. Remember the story of the ten virgins? Five of them dutifully filled their lamps with oil, and the other five did not. I don’t know whether they thought they’d do it later and were simply procrastinating or whether they didn’t really think the bridegroom was really coming that night. Or maybe they thought their "sisters" would share a little oil with them. The point is that they weren’t prepared. At one time in my life, I thought of how selfish the prepared five were, but then I realized that you can’t live on another person’s light, oil, hard word, education, or testimony. You have to fill your own lamp.

Lately, I’ve begun looking at this story in another way. God gave them and us certain talents and aptitudes, and I sincerely believe that He intends for us to develop and use them. Interestingly, discovering and developing gifts and propensities falls squarely in the camp of positive psychology, a field that emphasizes positive human values like personal growth, optimism, and well-being.

What is your passion? What activities do you enjoy doing? What skills would you improve on if only you had the time? What would you like to learn more about if time and money were not hindrances? What’s your dream job? Are you willing to do what it takes to make that dream a reality? Those are all questions within the positive psychology realm.

Could discovering potential and developing it to the max be akin to the five wise virgins? What about the other five who failed to fill their lamps with oil? Are they like the thousands and thousands of people who live lives of frustration and unfulfilled promise?

Solomon's Women

I have tremendous respect for the women in the Bible. The more I read and ponder, the more I can see them in me. They weren’t perfect, and neither am I. Just like the women of today, Rachel, Esther, and Hannah all had their challenges and trials, and all showed great faith in the choices they made and the lives they led.


This post, however, isn’t about one of the major players. It’s about “nobodies,” the 1,000 women who were King Solomon’s wives or concubines. As I go about my daily life, I often stop and think about how much freedom I have…how much “everything” I have.

• I can pretty much come and go whenever I want to. Could these women leave the palace grounds, or were their lives restricted to the royal residence?

• I have my own home that I can decorate any way that I choose, even if it means having canary yellow walls and cobalt blue leather furniture. Did these women even have their own rooms?

• I have three wonderful children and six grandchildren. Did these women have children? Were they allowed to raise them, or was it sort of a communal project?

• When the wives and concubines became older, were they “dismissed” and never summoned into the king’s presence? Did Solomon provide a pension of sorts for his older wives?

• I have a career that continues to bring a lot of satisfaction, fulfillment, and even fun into my life. Although teaching gets stressful and taxing at times, the positives far outnumber the negatives. What did these 1,000 women do all day every day??? Could they even read?

I’m thankful that I was born in America, the best nation on Earth, during the latter part of the 19th century after so many courageous women had paved the way for me to have an easier, more fulfilling life. Had I been born even 100 years earlier, I think I might have stomped around angry and frustrated and powerless. Had I been one of Solomon’s chosen women, I think I would have shriveled up and died.

Which is Harder?

Time is short this morning since my to-do list  is rather lengthy. Yes, even on MLK day, there are things to accomplish. True, the items are walking on the beach, reading my Kindle, and joining one of my daughters for lunch, and while those activities aren't exactly the same as "barges to load and bales to lift," they’re of great importance to me. But I digress.

At church yesterday, we were discussing sacrifice, and of course several Bible stories were included as examples. Time prohibits the discussion of all of them, so I’m including three of the primary ones.
First is the story of Abraham’s willingness to kill his beloved son Isaac. Remember, he and Sarah were advanced in years when this child entered their lives. Abraham was 100! You know his heart was hurting all the way to Mount Moriah where he finally tied his son down, ready to do what God had bidden. At the last moment, an angel intervened, and Isaac's life was spared. I’ve often wondered if Sarah knew where her husband and only son were heading when they left the homestead that morning.

Then there was the story of the rich young ruler who wanted to follow Christ. He was apparently a good man who followed the commandments. However, when Christ told him that he’d have to give up everything that he owned, he couldn’t do it. Could you??? I’m not even rich, and I don’t think I could do it. I mean, everything????

And finally there’s the story of the widow’s mite. She literally gave everything she had. What faith! What trust she had to sacrifice everything for the Lord. While I’ve always admired her sacrifice, I must admit that I’ve also felt a bit uneasy with the story, primarily because I don’t think I could do it. I don’t think I could give up everything.

In two of the three stories, the principal characters were willing to sacrifice BIG TIME. In the other, the rich ruler was willing to live a life of integrity but he simply could not give up his material possessions. While we were all pondering Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac, someone brought up the question of whether it was harder for a rich person to sacrifice everything than for a poor person (like the widow). I voted yes, but several people disagreed. They felt it would be far more difficult for a poor person since she had so little to begin with.

I’m not trying to settle an argument. There are no right and wrong answers. Both stories are in the Bible, and both are given as illustrations of sacrifice and commitment. It’s been my experience that people who have fewer material possession are often more humble. They seek God’s guidance and inspiration in their daily lives and realize that without Him, they’re sunk. At the same time, many wealthy people forget the sources of their many blessings and think they did it all themselves.

Yes, the above are both overgeneralizations. I’m just wondering what you think. Is it harder for a poor person or a rich person to sacrifice all he or she has? And while we’re on the subject, is sacrificing everything what God expects or is He happy with 10 percent?

Why Phyllis?

I think Dorothea and I had just had lunch at Nacho Hippo at Market Commons Friday when I got an unsettling message from Connie informing me that Phyllis was in ICU in our local hospital. Immediately, my mind conjured up an image of a beautiful woman with long, wavy blond hair and one of the sweetest faces I’ve ever seen. In recent years, she’s been struck with the BIG C, and as a result of the super strong meds, she lost her lovely tresses. I LOVED the way she looked when wearing her short strawberry blond wig, and I told her so on more than one occasion.


“You look so chic,” I’d said to her. “Plus, I can really see just how pretty your face is.”

She conquered the deadly disease, only to have it return with a vengeance, this time in her bones. Over the past several months, I’d seen her health deteriorate until finally she came to church using oxygen and sitting in a wheelchair. She was quieter, and even more serene than she had been prior to becoming sick. She seemed watchful, waiting. I admired her strength and began to feel concern for her two young children.

Saturday morning when I checked my messages on FB, the first was one from Connie informing me that Phyllis had passed away. Incredulous, I tried my best to keep the thought at bay. All day Saturday, I did entirely self-indulgent things with my family to bring in the new year, things like shopping, movie viewing, and dining out, and yet throughout the day, visions of Phyllis entered my mind. One in particular kept coming back, unbidden and a little disturbing. It was the last time I taught in Relief Society, two short weeks ago, and she sat to my right on the front row. She didn’t say anything that day, just listened intently.

Sunday morning, I opted to forgo that one last family get-together and decided to go to the beach instead. Sure hope my Christian friends don’t judge me for this, especially since the last lesson I taught was on keeping the Sabbath holy. I walked on the foggy beach for an hour and a half, and in that time I saw two horses, six dogs, 312 sea birds, and about eight people….and I listened to music on my iPod, especially hymns.

As I walked, I kept asking how this could happen to such as fine person as Phyllis. I actually got some answers, Folks. As I listened to “Where Can I Turn for Peace?” I remembered a story that Phyllis once told. She had received some disturbing family news and had passed a sleepless night. A master gardener, she arose early and went to her garden to work. She worked amongst her plants, and while pondering the news and praying for peace, she began to think, “Things will be fine. Everything will work out.” Remembering that story brought some solace.

Still, I couldn’t get her off of my mind. I just couldn’t understand how such a wonderful wife and mother could be taken from her family. Then I thought, “You can’t understand because you’re Jayne, not God. He has His reasons and is still in control here.” At that moment, a couple of verses from Isaiah came to mind, the ones about His ways and thoughts being higher than ours. It’s in Chapter 55, Verse 9: “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Everyone who knew Phyllis will miss her. At the same time, whenever I see her husband and children, remembering where she sought solace will bring some comfort. Plus, the fact that our ways are not God’s ways will bring understanding.

Lessons from Rebekah

Lately I’ve been pondering some of the stories about the women in the Bible. What were their personalities really like? What about their day-to-day lives and the decisions they made? The more I read, the more I wonder why some of them are even included. What are the lessons we’re supposed to learn from them?
Let’s take Rebekah, for instance. People name their daughters after her, and I’ve heard about the great love story between Isaac and her more times than I can recollect. Lately, however, I’ve been digging a little deeper, and I’m a little disturbed by some of my insights. I hope they’re amiss somehow and that maybe someone can shed a little more light on the subject.

On the plus side, Rebekah goes with Isaac’s servant to meet and marry a man she’s never met. Trusting God and His will for her life, she leaves her home in Nahor with a stranger and travels 500 miles to meet Isaac. That can’t have been much fun. Furthermore, she’s the mother of Jacob, the man who became the patriarch of the Twelve Tribes of Israel. But wait, isn’t she also the mother of Esau?

That brings me to the negative side. Not only did Rebekah connive with Jacob to take away Esau’s birthright, but in doing so, she also brought about a serious rift between brothers. Esau was so angry that he threatened to kill Jacob. In addition, in planning and executing this devious plan, Rebekah deceived her husband in a serious way. When Isaac discovered that he had inadvertently blessed Jacob instead of Esau, he was heartbroken; he couldn’t undo what had been done. Grieved at being deceived by his wife and younger son, he was also sorrowful that Esau wouldn’t receive what was rightfully his.

What are the lessons I’m supposed to learn from Rebekah? Is it okay to hoodwink your husband to get what you want for your beloved son? Speaking of sons, is it okay to play favorites? No, I don’t think so. At the same time, God told Rebekah that two nations were fighting within her womb and that the older would serve the younger. Perhaps she was remembering this promise when she planned the hoax. Perhaps she thought it was the best thing to do and that in carrying out her plan, she was simply doing her part to fulfill the prophecy.

So why is Rebekah so admired? Why are her virtues so extolled? Is it because she’s Isaac’s wife and matriarch of a dynasty? While it’s true that her story demonstrates the importance of a woman’s role in a family, there’s more to it than that. The decisions a woman makes can affect generations of her descendents.

Here’s what I think. I think Rebekah’s story remains in the Bible because, just like the rest of us, she was flawed. Families are complicated, and the relationships within them are dynamic and ever changing. Her love for Jacob and Isaac’s love for Esau could be demonstrated in homes all over the world. She and Jacob deliberately cooked up a sneaky scheme, and mothers everywhere are known to stretch the truth, withhold information, or champion the cause of one child or another. I’m not saying this is right; I’m saying it happens.

A Little Maid

I’m not good with children. Really, I’m not. I can love them and play with them and read to them, but teaching them is another story. That’s why I was a bit hesitant to substitute for one of the Primary teachers last Sunday. However, after reminding myself of the wonderful leaders and teachers who taught my three children when they were young, I agree to do it. After all, what kind of world would this be if no one volunteered to give time, energy, and guidance to the generations of the future?

That said, I’m sure glad that I said yes. Not only did I gain some insights into a fairly well-known Bible story, but I also got better acquainted with a wonderful group of children from ages 10-12. The story came from the II Kings, Chapter 5, and although I had a couple of activities and relevant stories to augment the lesson, I didn’t really need them because the children were so engaged…and engaging.

In brief, the story was about a great military leader, Namaan, who despite his victories and prestige, had a serious problem: leprosy. His wife had a “little maid” who had been captured by one of Namaan’s companies and brought back to Syria. One day she mentioned to Namaan’s wife that it would be so good if only he could meet Elisha, “the prophet in Samaria” because she was confident that Elisha could cure the leprosy. The wife apparently trusted this young maid because before you knew it, Namaan was asking the king to let him go to see Elisha. The king readily agreed, telling Namaan to go and sending him off with a letter to the king of Israel.

Elisha’s instructions to Namaan were simple, so simple in fact that Namaan was “wroth,” especially since they were delivered by a messenger and not Elisha himself. His servants prevailed upon him to do as Elisha told him to do, however, and after dipping himself in the Jordan River seven times, his leprosy was gone. He was clean, cured of the dreaded disease. Grateful, Namaan attempted to reward Elisha, but the latter refused any compensation, instead telling Namaan to “go in peace.” Gehazi, Elisha’s servant was not so scrupulous, but that’s a story for another day.

While most people probably read this story and think of Elisha and Namaan as being the prinicipal players, I keep thinking of the little maid. Not only was this young person (the children and I speculated about her age but never reached a consensus) kind enough to speak up to her mistress and tell her about Namaan, but she did so despite being captured and brought to his residence from Israel. I don’t know enough about her or about the history of the era to know whether this was “standard operating procedure,” but I do know that she was young and living away from her people. Still, she spoke up about the prophet of God, thereby saving a man’s life.

The lesson manual asked these questions that I’d never considered before Sunday: What does this tell us about this faithful Israelite girl? How can our faith help others? The children had plenty to say about the little maid and gave several examples of how they could say and do lots of different things to point people in the direction of God and His servants. What particularly touched me was how they realized that they, like the Israelite girl, could influence their parents, siblings, and maybe even teachers and other adults.

What about you? If a child can influence others by her actions (or his) what can we do?

Eating the Fruit

I just discovered something interesting about Eve. You know how people are always saying that she tempted Adam into tasting the delicious fruit and that it’s all her fault that we’re in the shape we’re in? If she’d just done what God told her to do, then they might be still in the garden, and we might not even be here! That’s a story for another day, however. The tale I want to tell today has to do with just who told Eve about not partaking of the fruit from the tree of life. I’d always assumed it was God and that He gave these instructions to the first couple as they stood there together, listening and learning. Not so.


I recently discovered that God told Adam and Adam told Eve. It’s not that big of a deal, or is it? As people living at this time in the world’s history, we know a little more about Adam, and we perceive him as an honest person. However, Eve knew nothing about him other than that he was the only other person roaming through Eden who looked sort of like her. He wasn’t a pelican or fox or orangutan, but a human being. So how did she know she could trust him? And how did she know the serpent represented evil? Eve lacked the experience and knowledge that we now have.

Today we know right from wrong through reading the scriptures, from listening to spiritual leaders, and from hearing the whisperings of the still small voice. She might have had certain advantages that we don’t (she got to live in Eden for a while), but we have access to knowledge accumulated through centuries and from all nations. We can learn vicariously from the mistakes and foibles of others, but Eve had no one to observe other than Adam.

While living on Earth today has its complications and hardships, it also has some advantages. One of those advantages is having access to so much knowledge, information, and spiritual guidance. We don’t have to take our husband’s word for something…or our wife’s, mother’s, father’s, or teacher’s. We can go straight to the scriptures and then pray about our concerns and questions. We can receive personal revelation for ourselves.  I wonder if Eve even considered that.

I’m not making excuses for Mother Eve. I’m just saying that I was wrong about God actually telling her about the fruit and that today we have access to much more information than she did. Does that mean we make fewer mistakes? Does it mean that we stay away from temptation?

Vashti Said No

Today I saw a young man with his jeans so low that I caught more than a glimpse of his blue anded plaid boxer shorts. I wonder if this is a new trend, having your under garments coordinate with your outer ones. Seems like I read a couple of years ago that women’s bra straps should blend or at least complement tank top colors. Gee whiz. Why not just make sure the under garments stay underneath???

All these sights have reminded me of Queen Vashti in the book of Esther. Everyone applauds Esther (and rightly so) for her courage in going before King Ahasuerus, but rarely do people have much to say about Vashti, the lady who sat on the throne before Esther came on the scene. Vashti, like Esther, risked everything she had in her communication with the king, and she paid a big price for it.

In a nutshell, there had been much merrymaking in the land for quite a while, 100 and fourscore days. After this time, Ahasuerus held yet another weeklong feast, one for the men and one for the women. From what I can glean from the scriptures, there was drinking and revelry among the men. On the 7th day, the king sent for his queen, Vashti, so that she could “shew the people and the princes her beauty.” She refused, and the king was “very wroth.”

I wasn’t there, and my only information is from the scriptures themselves and from some commentaries that I’ve read. My understanding of the events, however, is that perhaps Ahasuerus intended for Vashti to parade around in front of the drunken crowd. Rather than expose herself to leering gawkers, she said no. It would have been easier for her to go along, to be a good sport, but Vashti was courageous enough to say no. She must have known that there would be a consequence, but it didn’t matter. The scriptures tell us that anger burned in Ahasuerus, and at the prompting of his advisors, he gave her “royal estate to another.”

It might be a stretch, but I can see the application of the principles of modesty and courage in the world today. Why do people, men and women alike, bare shoulders, breasts, and midriffs for any and everyone to view? Why do young men feel the need to have their undies showing? Is it because of the need to be fashionable and to fit in? Doesn’t it take more courage to cover up and say NO to the wearing of revealing apparel than to give in to the popular trends of today?

What price will you pay to keep your throne? Will you say no to immodesty and immorality even if it costs you your popularity? Or will you go along with the world’s “look” to be accepted and popular?

Is It True?

 A friend of mine and I were discussing the previous blog about Noah’s wife, and she expressed some doubt that such an occurrence (great flood) even took place.

“Do you really believe that happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“It’s really kind of farfetched. I mean, what kind of loving God would do that to all the people on the earth? And besides, they’ve never really found evidence of the ark around the mountains of Arafat.”

I told her that it didn’t matter to me whether scientists had found remnants of the ark or not. In fact, it doesn’t matter to me whether the whole story was a complete fabrication. What I do know is that it’s in the Bible and in the Quran and that we can learn some important lessons from it.

• Be obedient to the commandments of God. Treat people fairly and be a just and kindly person.

• If God tells you to do something, do it. This is true even if it seems preposterous and even if other people laugh at you. Don’t you just know that Noah’s neighbors and friends had many a guffaw at their weird neighbor who persisted in building an ark when there was no rain in sight?
• While you’re following His instructions, realize that there is plenty of preparation in planning for a rainy day. While we don’t anticipate another such divine deluge, I know that some rain will fall in everyone’s life, and we need to be prepared. Whether it’s job loss, hurricane, illness, fire, or injury, now is the day to get ready.

• Be grateful for the sunny days in your life, and even though there are storms and wind and rain, just know that they never last. Storms always pass; it’s nature’s way. When the floods recede, you might find yourself with a whole new set of circumstances, probably better ones.

• Whenever you start feeling sorry for yourself, think of how “uncomfortable” Noah’s wife must have been. I get cranky when the dishwasher needs unloading or I have to run to Wal-Mart for laundry detergent. She worked like crazy getting everything ready for the time aboard, taking care of animals, and tending to human needs like food preparation (at least I think she must have). And yet, we don’t even know her name.

So was there really a man named Noah who took his wife, sons, and their wives aboard an ark thousands of years ago? Did that same ark land on Mt. Arafat after months of floating on the rains that covered the earth? I don’t know. Neither do the scientists. Still, it’s a great story with many good lessons. Just wish Mrs. Noah had a name.

What's Her Name??

I spent a lot of time with my oldest daughter Carrie this past weekend, and we had some good conversations, especially when my daughter-in-law Amanda joined in our chats. At one point, Carrie was reminiscing about the days when her 7-year-old was a toddler suffering from acid reflux. Nothing seemed to soothe him, and on top of the demands of a crying baby, she had a big dog to take care of. The dog, Sandy, lived inside the house and was forever shedding hair and bumping into things.


At another time during the weekend, Carrie talked about what a breeze it was to pack for only one person for the weekend trip: herself. Anyone who’s ever had a family knows that taking a vacation with them can be stressful, especially when it comes to purchasing the appropriate clothes and making sure everything is laundered and packed. If the vacation involves camping, well then there’s the additional challenge of meal planning and food purchasing.

What has all of this to do with one of Eve’s sisters? Plenty! Although this woman in the Bible goes unnamed, I’ve lately begun to think a lot about her. What was Noah’s wife’s name, and how in the world did she do the planning, packing, and preparation needed for the time on the ark? It rained for 40 days, right? And then they were on the ark an additional 150 days waiting for the water to recede enough for them to leave the ship. In my wildest dreams (or nightmares), I cannot imagine such an ordeal.

For starters, what did Noah, his wife, his sons, and his sons’ wives eat for 40 days? And how did they prepare it? There were no microwaves! Would cooking over a fire be too dangerous? Did they bathe? Did Noah’s wife and daughters-in-law wash clothes? If so, how? What did the animals eat? Incidentally, I read a guesstimate that suggested as many as 45,000 animals were aboard the ark! Geez Louise! Can you imagine the stench?! When Carrie was talking about her dog Sandy, we both talked about the “dog smell.” Although he was frequently bathed, Sandy smelled like the dog he was, and as mentioned above, he shed all over the place. He didn’t have many “accidents” since he was trained, but what if he’d been living on an ark and unable to go outside for a walk?

To add to the 45,000 animals on the ship with you for months, think about what you’d do all day everyday. It’s not as though they were reading or watching television or playing with a Wii. I suspect that everyone aboard was working to take care of the animals. How did they even know night from day? I think I read that there was a window, but still….but still. For 40 days and 40 nights, it’s raining like crazy, and you can’t really see outside. Plus, it’s probably pretty smelly inside, and all you get to do is work.

Before I get too carried away with this, I’ll just say that my lifestyle is one of incredible ease compared to that of this unnamed woman who probably worked just as hard as he did  to make the whole “Noah’s Ark” experience successful. While there are millions of women who care for animals, live in areas where there are monsoons, and live lives of drudgery, I can think of nowhere in the world where they endured what Noah’s wife and her daughters-in-law did.

Serving Apple Pancakes

This post isn’t about one of the women in the Bible but rather a talk I heard a woman give in church Sunday. One of the things I enjoy about listening to people speak in church is that they often add another twist to a familiar story or scripture that I hadn’t considered before. This past Sunday one of my daughters and I had the good fortune to attend Sacrament meeting in an Atlanta, GA ward, and every speaker gave me food for thought, especially a simple comment by the last speaker. And the goodies in the picture above? You'll have to read the post to see how they relate.

We’re all familiar with the verse in Joshua in which he tells the Israelites that for him and his house, “We will serve the Lord.” He has admonished them to choose “this day” whom they will serve, not tomorrow or next week but THIS DAY. I’ve read and heard this verse about a hundred times or more. Really, I have. I’ve seen it cross stitched and placed on display. I’ve seen plaques and framed art with Joshua’s words hung on walls or sitting on small easels, words to remind “believers” of their choice.

Here’s my confession. I’ve always focused on the choosing part and not so much on the serving part. It’s a fact that tomorrow’s blessings, both temporal and spiritual, depend on the choices we make today. While the verbs seem to go together, I’ve been guilty of choosing more than serving; it’s easier and really requires no effort on my part. However, it makes perfect sense that if you choose Him, you would want to serve Him.

Since Sunday, I’ve been thinking more about the last section of Joshua 24:15 “…but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” More specifically, I’ve been thinking about what serving actually means and what I could be doing. It doesn’t mean I have to serve a full-time mission or do volunteer work at the local hospital…although those are certainly worthy means of providing service. In my little corner of the world, I could feed the missionaries more often, treat a friend to lunch, send someone a note or card, watch a young mother’s child so that she could have a little free time, take a neighbor some cookies, advise a student on career choice, lend someone a book, and so forth. The list of little ways to follow Joshua’s instruction are numerous and varied.

I absolutely have to share a recent example of serving that I witnessed yesterday. It’s about my friend Connie who just came back from a mountain getaway with her husband. She took lots of beautiful pictures and posted them all on the internet for other people to enjoy. Then she started a little contest, and the winner is going to get a basket of goodies that Connie purchased while on her trip. I see that as serving. She could have kept everything (memories, pictures, and treats) all to herself. But she didn’t. She knows choosing means loving and sharing and serving, and that’s what she’s doing. Check out her blog at http://fogle143.blogspot.com/
and throw your name in the hat. (I couldn't get this link to work, but you can use the one to Loose Lemons in the sidebar).

I’m curious about the thoughts of any readers that might be reading this. Have you, like yours truly, focused more on the choosing than the serving part? Can you think of some little acts of service you’ve seen around you lately?

Aunt Doc, a.k.a. Dorcas

It started with a conversation about Aunt Doc, a.k.a. Dorcas. I was telling Paul and Amanda a little bit about her, my grandmother’s oldest sister. A seamstress and smart lady, she lived to be mid-90 (not sure of the exact age). Her husband died at a relatively young age leaving her with a daughter to raise, and she never remarried. I used to go to North Carolina with my grandparents often as a child, and we’d always stay at her house. From my youthful vantage point, it seemed that my grandmother and her sisters all looked up to Aunt Doc and admired her greatly. A sharp business woman, she was a seamstress who owned her own shop downtown.

Anyway, as I was telling Paul and Amanda about her, they looked at each other with that “aha” expression, and he said, “Yeah, we did some genealogy work about her and wondered what kind of name that was. We weren’t even sure how to pronounce it.”

“I don’t know how to pronounce her name either,” I admitted. “I always called her Aunt Doc.”

“But Dorcas…what kind of name is that?” Paul persisted.

“Well, I don’t know what her parents were thinking, but I do know that Dorcas was a pretty well-respected woman in the New Testament.” I replied. “She was even called a disciple.”

Naturally, I couldn’t think of the exact scripture at that moment, but later I looked it up. Acts 9: 36 – 43 tells her story.

The Dorcas in Acts was a seamstress like Aunt Doc, and she evidently did a lot of good for other people and was greatly loved. I’m saying that based on the weeping and wailing that went on in her room after her death. Her friends sent for Peter, who upon his arrival, asked the widows and grief stricken friends to leave the room. After praying, he then brought her back to life, and although that’s the last time we read about Dorcas, I like to think that she spent several more years “doing good” and sewing for others.

Last week, our ward’s Relief Society tied quilts for the Ronald McDonald house, and when I saw the pictures, I thought, “Wow! We have at least a dozen Dorcases in our ward.” I wasn’t there that night, and I can’t sew well enough to make clothing or quilts. I can, however, support those who do, including my daughter Carrie who has caught the sewing bug and has created many articles of clothing for her children. Above is a photo of Braden and Brooke sporting their new pajama pants.

The world has need of more Dorcases. Just because she’s only given two verses in the New Testament, it doesn’t mean that she wasn’t important. I think her life had great significance and that we could all learn a lesson or two from her.

Lily-livered is the Merriam Webster word of the day. Don’t you just love it? It has so much more punch than that cowardly or weak. It’s right up there with spineless and gutless, and I can’t help but notice how those two adjectives, like lily-livered, are also related to the body. The reason the term impressed me so much is that lately I’ve been thinking more about all of the courageous women in the Bible…and all of the injunctions we’re given to be brave.

I have a busy day ahead of me so I’ll just mention two or three. Queen Esther heads my list, and anyone who’s read very much of this blog won’t be surprised by that. Risking her life, she went before the king to request a favor, and as a consequence she saved the Jewish people. Oh, and the bad guy got killed. Think what might have happened if she hadn’t squared her shoulders and said, “If I perish, I perish.”

Then there’s the woman in the New Testament who risked ridicule and censure as she made her way through the crowd to touch the hem of Christ’s robe. After suffering from an issue of blood for twelve years, she was willing to feel the fear and do it anyway. We usually think of faith as being her primary virtue, but I can see that it took courage to do this. And what did Christ do? He somehow felt her touch and turned to the crowd to ask who had touched the robe. She could have slunk off, but no, “she came trembling” (Luke 8:47) and fell down before Him. She was healed immediately and gently told to go in peace.

Although there are dozens of brave women in the scriptures, there’s just one more that I have time to mention this morning, a very young woman named Mary. The older I get, the more amazed I am at the courage, faith, and humility of the mother of Christ. In my wildest dreams, I can’t imagine being visited by an angel telling me that I’m going to be the mother of the Savior of mankind. Mary was a young teenager who never “known” a man. I don’t know what her parents had to say about the situation. I have a hard enough time imagining the conversation with Joseph.

We all feel fearful from time to time. Sometimes we need courage to speak up for ourselves, and sometimes we need to speak for those who have no voice (in a manner of speaking). Sometimes we need to ask for help, healing, or a hand, and at other times we just need to do what our Creator asks us to do. Don’t be lily-livered. Just do it!

Thanks, Mr. Tyndale

Sunday’s Relief Society lesson went well if I do say so myself, not because of anything I did but because of two other reasons: the topic itself and the people in the class. Scripture study was the topic, and class members were as attentive and participative as always. They’re such a delightful group that I think if I said, “Today the lesson’s about the 12 tribes of Israel, and I’m feeling a little inadequate,” they’d come to my rescue…not because they’re a room of know-it-alls and show-offs but because they know why we’re there: to love, encourage, and support one another. After all, they're Eve's sisters.

The lesson was about scripture(s), and as I began to read and prepare, I was amazed at the things I learned and the things I was reminded of. Admittedly, I often take the scriptures for granted. I think most people do. Yet there was a time in the not too far distant past when ordinary people like us didn’t have access to the Bible, much less any other books of scripture.

In my preparation, I learned of a man named William Tyndale who was strangled and then burned at the stake for translating and publishing the Bible in English. This happened in 1536, not even 500 years ago, and while that seems like a long time, it really isn’t. An educated man, Tyndale spoke eight languages and was a member of the Catholic clergy. Distressed that the common man had no access to the scriptures, Tyndale sought church approval to translate the Bible into English. After being denied approval, he fled to Germany, and with the help of friends, translated and published the Old and New Testaments and smuggled published copies into England. Tyndale’s work is the foundation for the King James Version of Bible.

William Tyndale isn’t the only person to whom we owe a debt of gratitude, but he’s the one I’m thinking of this afternoon. I’m thinking of how this man was willing to sacrifice his life because of his unwavering commitment to make the words of God available for all people…or at least the English speaking ones. And yet today many people take this great book for granted…or perhaps don’t even realize its importance. It sits on a shelf gathering dust instead of enlightening the minds of its owners.

Today we not only have the King James Version of the Bible, but we also have several other versions. On my shelf is a version of the New Testament entitled The Message which reads like a narrative. I also have a copy of the Women’s Devotional Bible, a gift from my sister. Being LDS, I have copies of The Book of Mormon, The Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price. I can also access the words from all of these books (and many more) online. Heck, I can even have daily scripture messages sent to my hotmail address, and they show up on my cell phone. How convenient is that? I truly have no excuse not to read and ponder.

It occurs to me that one of the reasons the scriptures are so readily available is that perhaps God is trying to send us a message. Maybe He thinks we need instruction, inspiration, guidance, and peace more than ever. I love the Young Women’s theme this year, probably because of the encouragement it offers. The theme comes from Joshua 1:9, and it fills me with hope. “Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.”

Be strong. Be tough. Be strong. You’re not alone…not ever.

More Mary, Less Martha

Sometimes all people want is to be heard. A couple of weeks ago, my father-in-law passed away, and as several of us were standing outside of his room, an elderly gentleman walked up and said something like, “I know what you’re going through.” He and I looked at each other eyeball to eyeball, and when he knew that I was listening, he told me that his wife of many decades that died three months earlier, somewhat unexpectedly. I could have said, “Can’t you see that we’re sort of tied up with our own sorrow right now?” but I didn’t. Along with a couple of other people, I just stood there and listened.

I’ve often pondered over the brevity of Mary and Martha story in Luke. Although short, it contains many lessons, primarily the one about keeping our eyes, ears, hearts, and minds centered on the words of Christ. That short passage in Luke has prompted many discussions among my female friends as we struggle to balance the demands of our families and homes with the need to search, ponder, and pray.

This past week I learned yet another way to interpret the Mary/Martha story. When Christ tells Martha that Mary is about the “better part,” I think that he’s referring to her state of attentive mindfulness in general. Not only is he telling the sisters that listening to His words is important, but He’s also implying that we need to adopt that attitude when with our loved ones…and anyone else who’s in need of a listener.

Within our homes, there is often space and separation when there could be connectedness and communication. We talk and listen, but we do it with our heads and not our hearts. We discuss bills, dinner plans, the weather, and the latest movies, but we avoid feelings and dreams. We’re always flitting about hither, thither, and yon when perhaps our time would be better spent just listening, being fully present. Without being judgmental, impatient, or “cumbered about,” we need to sit quietly in the presence of these people in our lives.

Doesn’t Christ say that when you’ve done it unto the least of one of these, that we’ve done it unto Him? So while reading scriptures and praying is important, so is paying mindful attention to others. This week, I’ve been trying to follow Christ’s gentle instruction to Martha, and it’s SO HARD. I find myself wanting to rush in and finish sentences, go for a walk, or give advice. Part of my struggle is because of life in the 21st century with all of its craziness. Excuses aside, I’ve been instructed by the Master himself, so I’m earnestly going to try harder to be more patient and thoughtful.

Sometimes all people want is to be heard.