Leaving Home

Some people say that the most defining moment in the Old Testament is when God tells Abram to leave his country, his kindred, and father’s house and go to a land that he will show him. Me, I don’t know. My knowledge is pretty puny about these things. What’s brought the passage to mind are a couple of young families I’ve been thinking about this past week. Today, instead of writing about women in the Bible, I’m going to write something related to some of Eve’s modern day sisters.

A week or so ago, Anita Ervin began a month of Thanksgiving notes by expressing her gratitude for her family and the life they’re currently living in Oklahoma. I remember when they left with their two young daughters and infant son. How brave they were to be moving across country so that Ben could start his new job. That was well over a year ago, and it seems that everyone is thriving.

Another example would be my oldest daughter Carrie. Married for nearly ten years, she and Rich have lived in four different places, and they currently reside in Rincon, GA. Wherever they’ve moved, Carrie has found new friends and made a nice home for her family. I’ve never heard her say, “I’m lonely,” or “I’ll never be happy in this place.” Quite the contrary, she’s adjusted well, and I think part of it is because she knew it was the best thing for the whole family. She knows that her attitude can affect both Rich and her children, and she consequently squared her shoulders and got involved in the community, especially the church and schools.

At the same time, the parents and grandparents of the above families miss them dearly. In my case, it’s only three hours away, and yet with our schedules, sometimes it might as well be three days. Last weekend I had the opportunity to spend some time with one of my brothers and his wife and one of his sons. Becky and I chatted off and on throughout the two days, and one of the things we talked about is how in biblical stories, people lived close to their families. I think what prompted this conversation was thinking about her adult sons and where they would settle. Like most moms, she wants them to stay close by, not next door but not a thousand miles away either.

Speaking of sons, mine lives in Atlanta, four hours from me and over six hours from Amanda’s family. Do I miss him? You bet I do. Sometimes I think that if I don’t see his blue eyes soon, I’ll go bonkers. Still, they’re there for a reason, and I honestly think that living there has helped them grow closer as a couple. Then there’s the graduate school thing, a puzzle piece to whatever God has in store for him.

All this got me thinking about Abraham and how he left Haran for Canaan. Does that mean that “kids” need to get out of their fathers’ houses in order to find their own way? Would we have ever heard of Abraham if he’d been recalcitrant and said NO? God might have found another to be the father of many nations, but that’s not what happened. What happened is that the family left their home of origin, and well, you know the rest of the story.

So I guess as a mother and grandmother, my job is to raise children and turn them over to God. If their paths lead to faraway Canaan, then I’ll have to accept the fact that perhaps it’s for their own growth. Is that what you read into this story too? Or am I seeing things that aren't there?

Scared Heart?

I’ve been listening to Sue Monk Kidd’s The Mermaid Chair on CD, and one of the few things that I like about this book is one of Jessie’s memory of a conversation she once had with her daughter. As a child, her daughter Dee thought the church Mary of the Sacred Heart was really Mary of the Scared Heart. Jessie, the mom, is remembering that conversation years later and thinking about whether Mary was scared or not. After all, she thinks, “scared heart” might just as much sense as “sacred heart.”

Amanda’s having a baby. She’s my daughter-in-law, and I’m super excited about this baby. I don’t even know this little one yet, the tiny fetus that we’re referring to as Baby C, and yet I’m already thinking about him or her. Amanda saw the little one actively swimming about during her sonogram Monday, and she excitedly told me about how he or she was moving its little “nubs,” future arms and legs. Is it a boy or a girl? Will the baby be tall, short, blue-eyed, curly-haired, athletic, scientific, musically inclined, a great dancer???

While I’m excited, I can’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety from time to time. Will Amanda’s pregnancy and labor be smooth and uneventful? Will Baby C have all ten fingers and toes? While I know that it's coming to a home with parents “kind and dear,” will they know how to handle a colicky baby? One of my students missed a test today because her baby is in the hospital with a fever of 104. What if that happens to Paul and Amanda’s baby?

All of this (and more) has got me thinking more about Mary. Was she scared? She surely had reason to be. She was a child by some standards, probably no older than 16. Plus, as far as I can determine, it’s not as though she had the love and support of her parents. Elisabeth seems to be the only person she felt comfortable enough to confide in, at least at first. Eventually she had to face Joseph, her betrothed. Do you think she was scared to tell him? I do. She had had a visit from Gabriel, but so far Joseph had not. Here she is an unmarried teenager without support or encouragement, and she’s having a baby. Don’t you know the town gossipers had a heyday with that? There weren’t hospitals around either. The longer I think about this, the more I realize that indeed she may have been petrified. Yes, the angel had said, “Be not afraid,” but still….

Here's the scariest part (to me): Mary was carrying the literal Son of God, the Savior of the world. Can you even imagine such a feeling? I can’t. Amanda is carrying a child of God, and while I know there may be times when she too might feel a little fearful or anxious, she has the love and support of family and friends. She also lives in a time and place where there’s the best medical care possible. Oh, and of course there’s the fact that she’ married to Paul, a man who will surely magnify his role as a father.

Sparrows and Me

Going on a road trip with girlfriends can be a wonderful experience. Don’t get me wrong. I love traveling with my husband too; it’s just that he’s not as into laughing, talking, and taking side trips. Sure, I’ve told him that it’s the journey and not the destination that counts, but he’s a guy, one who’s all about getting there. I say that with love.

So this past weekend I went to Atlanta with some work chums, and we chatted all the way there and all the way back and all times in-between. Before the weekend ended, we had pretty much solved the education and healthcare issues in America (Why don’t the powers-that-be ask us for our opinions?), expressed much consternation over the appalling lack of civility in the United States (witness Joe Wilson’s latest outburst), and shared thoughts and memories about our families.

This morning as I sit waiting for my class to complete a test on D2L, I can imagine Lisa’s grandmother telling her to wash her hair until it squeaked. I used to hear the same thing as a child. I can see Nancy’s father standing on the front porch demanding that she come in the house instead of sitting in the driveway with her sweetie. Martha says her hair is like her mother’s…as are some of her gestures. And yours truly? All this family talk dredged up lots of memories from my past. I used to go to Forest City, NC with my paternal grandparents on a frequent basis, and I can still recall sitting in the back seat of their celery green Chevy and we wound around curvy two-lane roads.

All of the family talk must have still been on my mind Sunday morning. As I sat in Sacrament meeting, the thought occurred to me that only one person in the entire meeting even knew my parents. Only Mrs. C. knew what great people they were, she with her classiness and he with his lovable eccentricities. Saddened, I couldn’t let that thought go. How could it be that people who were so instrumental and influential in my life just pass on, unknown or perhaps forgotten?

After Sacrament, I left the room for a few minutes and was chatting in the hall when Lowrance approached. “I’ve got something I want you to see,” she said. She handed me a small black and white photograph of four young women, all smiling flirtatiously at the camera. From their attire and hairstyles, I could see that it was “vintage,” and Lowrance said that the picture was snapped sometime in the 1940s. “Do you recognize anyone?” she asked. Right away, I saw my aunt Polly smiling up from the foursome, black wavy hair framing her beautiful young face. Turning to Lowrance, I asked, “Did you know my aunt? What about my parents?” It turns out that she did know them, although not that well since my parents and aunt were older than she. Still, she did know them. She had seen them often, and they live in her memory just as they do in mine.

So what’s the point of this rambling post? As I was telling my son Paul about this story yesterday, I had a flash of insight. We’re all familiar with the scripture of God having His eye upon the sparrow, right? And we know that He’s aware of each of us, and that while He might not speak to us in a big booming voice, He is mindful of our needs. It’s often through another person that He makes us aware of His presence in our lives.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this incident, but you’ll never convince me of that. I have a great heritage, and I miss my parents and grandparents…sometimes more than others. Sunday was one of those days, and Lowrance was inspired (I think) to show me a little picture, a picture that brought solace to my soul. My heart too.

Finding Balance

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Mary and Martha verses in Luke. Although there are only two of them, they’re fraught with meaning. Exactly what is the better part that Christ chastens Martha about? Okay, I know what He meant, but I don’t know how to always find the balance I need. And how does one make time for it when there are people to feed, clothes to wash, floors to sweep, and provisions to buy? I have my quiet “soul time” early in the morning, but what about other times when the Martha traits creep in?

This weekend provides an excellent case in point…or two or three of them! My husband and I bought a duplex in Myrtle Beach so that we’d have a place to retreat to when the world got “too much with us.” And we also wanted a place for family and friends to gather and have lots of fun and fellowship. Labor day weekend was to be the celebratory weekend, and my daughters, son-in-law, and four grandchildren all gathered for our first holiday together there. We had dinner guests on both Saturday and Sunday evenings, with Sunday’s repast being the family feast. My brother Mike and his family joined us for Beaufort Stew, and it was fabulous to be sitting around the table basking in each other’s company.

So anyway, pretty much all weekend I was busy, busy, busy running errands, doing laundry, cooking, and so forth. Sunday rolled around, and we all went to church together. That’s a given unless someone is sick or seriously wounded. However, Elizabeth and I left after Sacrament to make a run to Wal-Mart for some final Beaufort Stew ingredients. We didn’t feel good about it, but nevertheless, we did it. Yes, we entered a place of business and bought something on the Sabbath.

Later that afternoon while everyone else was chillin’, Elizabeth was working on lesson plans, and I was working in the kitchen, doing things in preparation for the evening’s events. My little granddaughter Brooke walked into the room and announced to us that it wasn’t right to shop on Sunday and that we were supposed to keep the Sabbath holy. Knowing that she didn’t understand the ox in the ditch principle, I let it pass.

It reminded me of days of yesteryear when my former mother-in-law would leave church early to complete dinner preparations for a houseful of hungry people. Sometimes someone might “tsk tsk” her behavior, and even then as a young person without much depth, I could well understand that if she hadn’t left early, there’d be no food. Which was the greater sin? Leaving early to do a good deed or passing judgment on someone who was doing far more good than many who stayed for all three services? I might add that on most occasions, she would also prepare an extra plate of delicious food for a shut-in widow who lived close by.

Is there a way to be Mary and Martha too? If we are too much Mary-like, who will buy groceries, prepare the food, set the table, polish the silverware, sweep the floor, and change the linens? If we are too Martha-like, then we can lose our spirituality and risk becoming materialistic, worldly, and maybe even short tempered and impatient. In the account in Luke, she appears frustrated and angry.

I’m just saying it’s hard to find the balance. I’m also saying we need to cut others some slack when they’re doing the best they can.

Jochabed & Missionary Moms

The Camden Ward now has at least three young men serving missions, two of whom are still in the MTC (Missionary Training Center). I KNOW how their mothers feel, for I too have felt that hole in my heart. It’s especially huge and gaping right after the missionary’s departure, but truly, it does heal somewhat as the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months. There are the weekly emails, the encouraging words from friends and family, and the knowledge that your child is willing to sacrifice two years of his young life to “go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded.”

Thinking of these three young men (Zachary, Campbell, and Tony) and their mothers reminded me of several things I wrote while my son Paul was serving his mission in Mexico. With these M.O.M.s (Mothers in Missionaries) in mind, I’ve decided to copy and paste this excerpt from my book.

Exodus 2: 3-5
“And when she could not longer hide him, she took for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch, and put the child therein; and she laid it in the flags by the river’s brink. And his sister stood afar off to wit what would be done with him.”

Imagine Jochabed’s anxiety as she placed her infant son in a basket and placed him in the Nile. Knowing that her son Moses was meant to be murdered left her no recourse but to trust in God’s protection and care, and yet she couldn’t (or didn’t) watch as he drifted away among crocodiles with his sister Miriam watching. How hard it must have been to leave her son adrift in the river! God kept Moses safe in his basket until he was discovered and adopted by Pharaoh’s daughter, an act that would allow him to receive an education and upbringing that would make him more effective as a prophet and leader of a nation.

While mothers aren’t customarily required to send their sons away down the Nile to save their lives, at some time children drift down the rivers of life to live among crocodiles, sharks, and other dangerous creatures. As I pondered this scripture, I remembered Brother Reynolds’ words in a Sacrament meeting as he told of his prayer when his son left on his mission: “God, I’m giving you the best thing I have: my son. Please comfort him, lead him, protect him, and bring him back home safely to us.” Not only will our Heavenly Father protect our missionaries, but He will also allow them to get the sort of education that will prove invaluable in their future lives. The virtues of faith, responsibility, and service will forever be a part of their character.

Modern Day Ruth

I’ve thought about the story of Ruth and Boaz on and off for a long time. Most of the time when the book of Ruth is discussed, it’s in terms of her loyalty to Naomi, her mother-in-law. Although Naomi tells Ruth and Orpah to return to leave her and return to their lands, Ruth refuses and says, “Whither thy goest I will go.” In fact, her response to Naomi is so beautiful and loving that it’s been sung at many weddings.

But that’s not what I’m thinking about today. I’m thinking about what happened as a consequence of Ruth staying in with Naomi. Ruth gleans in the fields of Boaz, a kinsman of Naomi, and at some point she attracts his interest. Naomi instructs Ruth to lie at his feet one night, and Boaz promises to seek her as his wife. Eventually the two marry, and Ruth gives birth to Obed, the father of Jesse who is the father of David.

It blows my mind to realize that IF Ruth had not stayed with Naomi and IF she had not gleaned in the fields to find food for Naomi and her and IF she had not deliberately lain at the feet of Boaz, then the genealogy of Christ would have been different. Well, maybe so and maybe not. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and He would’ve found a way for His plan to work.

The point I’m trying to make is that Ruth, at the encouragement of Naomi, “put herself out there” so that Boaz could see her. While it’s true that Boaz noticed Ruth as she worked in his fields, it wasn’t until she lay at his feet that he began to think of her as a possible wife.

The reason this story popped into my mind today is because I know a friend who has found her Boaz over the internet. While others might scoff or sneer, this friend now is happier than she has been in years. Her friends are waiting to be found as they glean on the edges of a field, while this modern day Ruth has gone a step farther.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my thinking is twisted. Or maybe I’m seeing more in this story than is intended. Still, I’m wondering if another element to the story of Ruth, Naomi, and Boaz has to do with being a little more assertive in the quest for love. If Ruth can lie at the feet of Boaz, then surely it's okay for her 21st century sister to use e-harmony or another online service.

Turning Them Over

I’m thinking of my old friend June today. Whenever I’d share some concern that I had about one of my children, she’d often chide me and ask, “Jayne, have you turned your children over to God?” I’d try to convince her that yes, of course I had, but she wasn’t buying it. It was almost as if I’d turned them over but somehow continued thinking that He needed my interference.

I’m not sure how I feel about this issue. I do think that God sends each mother the children she’s meant to raise, if only for a season. In the process, He trusts us to do the best we can to love, nurture, and guide them. It’s an awesome responsibility, and although it was one that I gladly accepted, I still don’t know how much and how long to stay involved. When should a mother back off and “let go and let God?”

If only things were as clear-cut as they were with Hannah. Remember her? She’s the woman who wanted a child so badly that as she fervently prayed for one, Eli saw her and mistakenly thought she was drunk. She assured him that she was completely sober and was praying that God would send her a male child. If that happened, she would willingly turn the child over to God. Eli told her to go in peace and promised Hannah that her petition would be answered. Soon thereafter, Samuel was born, and when he was still a young child, Hannah brought him to Eli and left him there.

I don’t know if she saw Samuel much after leaving him in the temple with Eli. I only know that I’m not quite as trusting, giving, or selfless as Hannah was. I think God entrusted my children to me and that He intends for me to take that trust seriously. At the same time, I’m wondering if this story of Hannah and Samuel has a latent meaning for me, for us. What do you think?