Sunday Bugs, Rugs, Jugs, and Snug

Sunday morning started out with a bug on the rug.

Jonathan saw it first, and asked what kind it was. I wondered if it might be the cricket that I had seen last night skittering along a paper in a spot in the office while I was up when I couldn't sleep due to twitching nerves.

Then Danny had a clever idea about how to get rid of that bug.

 As you can see, now we had a hen in the house!

 

However, Danny's idea worked great, and now we had a hen but no bug!

I, however, as the mom of the house, was not interested in a hen on anywhere with carpet, so Danny had to get the hen out again, which wasn't much trouble. We hurried around to get a crock pot of food and a bowl of coleslaw ready to take for church fellowship. (Hats off to Jonathan for toasting the almonds, making the dressing for the slaw, and adding the vegetables to the meat in the crock pot while I had to do other things!)

We managed to leave in time to run to the nursing home where the nurse had just finished braiding the hair of our friend Beaver and she was ready to go!

It was such a balmy October day that the church needed neither heat nor air conditioning.  I actually was the one to share a devotional thought inspired, of all things, by the loss of most of my hair this week, thinking of how God cares so much for us and knows so much that we don't, including even the number of our hairs! He knows how many are all over my bedroom right now and how many I lost each day this week.

I finished with a poem by Annie Johnson Flint, after sharing a little bit about her life and story of loss and suffering, yet how she chose submission and love for God rather than bitterness despite being confined to her room of suffering for 40 long years. I will paste it at the end of this post.

In the picture above, Danny is pushing Beaver along. I sat with her at a picnic table outside after service, where another fellow discovered us and sat down to enjoy some food, too. Hannah and I kept running back and forth with plates of food, bowls of soup, or cups of juice from jugs inside. A ladybug suddenly appeared on the picnic table, and I watched it fly away.  

There are bugs galore--especially yellow jackets or wasps nearly everywhere, inside and outside.

The weather has been dry for months, and very warm. Our soil is cracked terrible in some places, very deep.  

Since the pastor at Mission is away fundraising for the mission, and people who usually cook meals Sunday evening were either gone as well or sick, it was decided not to have a whole meal. 

 

Instead our family made an assembly line and put together about three dozen bologna and cheese or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to hand out afterward, especially to people off the street or ones who struggle to take care of families, who come expecting a meal as usual. We added a snickerdoodle cookie from packages I'd found marked down yesterday in Murdo on our way home from medical appointments in Rapid City. We wrapped sandwiches and a cookie snugly in pretty autumn cellophane baggies that I've had stored in my Thanksgiving decor for years. It was fun to find a use for those this evening! I stayed home, since we leave again early tomorrow for more medical appointments, this time in Sioux Falls. But the sandwiches did stretch! One time recently there were over 70 people at church, but tonight there were not so many and there were some sandwiches left over, most of which I took up to a neighbor lady who takes care of people on both sides of her--an elderly man whose wife has been in the hospital, and a nephew who was thrown out of his home. 

She handed me a bag of some of her own homemade fry bread in exchange. 

Once again, it was a very full and fulfilling Sunday! 

Here is Annie Johnson Flint's poem:

 

I cannot, but God can;
Oh, balm for all my care!
The burden that I drop
His hand will lift and bear,

Though eagle pinions tire —
I walk where once I ran —
This is my strength, to know
I cannot, but God can.

I see not, but God sees;
Oh, all-sufficient light!
My dark and hidden way
To Him is always bright.

 My strained and peering eyes
May close in restful ease,
And I in peace may sleep;
I see not, but He sees.

I know not, but God knows; 

Oh, blessed rest from fear!
All my unfolding days
To Him are plain and clear.

 Each anxious, puzzled “Why?”
From doubt or dread that grows,
Finds answer in this thought;
I know not, but He knows.

 

 

My Niece Bethany's Wedding to Lyndon

Last Saturday our five oldest children were in attendance at the wedding of my niece Bethany (my brother Gabriel's daughter) to Lyndon Martin, whom she first met a little over a year ago while taking part in a conservative musical group called Lyrica Sacra. 

I had hoped to attend the wedding with Jonathan, but---chemo and cancer happened, so I indulged myself by constantly checking the phone to see who was sending a picture next!

Some of these came after the wedding was over, but one by one, loving sisters and thoughtful children would send me little updates and photos and comments to keep me in the loop. 

Both rehearsal and wedding itself were in the Rooke Chapel at Bucknell University, a place my family has often frequented through the last many years to attend various concerts and musicals.

Nieces and sisters practicing before the rehearsal.

I suppose one reason for the choice of venue (besides its surprisingly reasonable cost for the event) was the pipe organ. My sister Iva played it for the processional, and my sister Dorcas played it for the recessional!

My youngest nephews (and very youngest niece, Gabriel's and Elizabeth's youngest daughter)checking the organ out.

Another photo during the rehearsal. 

Someone sent me this photo of the wedding flowers ready to arrange! 

Our Tim was the videographer up in the balcony. He tried to live stream the wedding, but signal was poor and it didn't work, and he had to resort to simply videoing it.

And then hours went by with no pictures at all! Everyone was intent on the occasion! Brent Susan officiated the wedding. This picture was snapped by either my sister Joella or her daughter Susanna from up behind the grand piano.

This one was taken and sent to me by my sister Dorcas who was sitting behind the row of the three dating or married couples in the Lucas clan--Crystal and Ricky, Sam and Caitlyn, and Rose and Tom--all of whom had flown in for the wedding.  

A pre-wedding photograph of the bride and her eight siblings. 

Bethany and flower girl Elliana

A choir of friends and cousins sang a couple songs in the wedding--including the song that Lyndon and Bethany had (somewhat by accident) ended up singing as a duet together well over a year earlier during a Lyrica Sacra concert before the two started going together. Another girl who was supposed to have sung the duet part with Lyndon hadn't been able to, and Bethany had been chosen to sing with him. She had no idea he was noticing her by then!

Two of the newest brides of the year--Mercy (Dorcas's daughter) and Rose.

 

Cousins and friends visiting. Dorcas sent this photo, having focused on Sam and Caitlyn. 

 Another photo of the two newest brides visiting, this time with some of the little ones in the clan.

Bethany's mom Elizabeth sent me this photo.

And this one.

Not sure who sent this one, but it looks like the boys of the clan (with one of the littlest girls) are wrapping up the get-away car! 

 I love the candids!

Somehow Sam managed to end up with little Timothy, my nephew Nathaniel's youngest boy. 

Woops! Now Tim has baby Tim!  

 

A picture of eight cousins plus Sam's girlfriend Caitlyn out for a walk in the beautiful Pennsylvania autum!

 

How Many Hairs Did I Have?

 How many hairs did I used to have? I don't know. I just know I had more than I have now!

Yesterday I started to brush my hair like usual, and then I looked at my brush. It was full of hair!

This morning was even worse. Whole wads of hair were coming out by the time I passed the brush through my hair three times. 

Yesterday I was very brave. 

I was not going to cry. No. I went out to the kitchen and started making my guys' lunches and breakfast. Since I'd been able to rise much earlier than usual, I even had time to make extra special omelets! Hair or no hair, I was not going to waste time crying.

That was yesterday. I'm still not wasting time crying, but I did feel pretty heart-sick when I saw how much hair was wisping from my hair brush every couple times I passed the brush through.

"What is it going to be like tomorrow?" I asked myself.  

The oncologist had told me that most people lose their hair somewhere between day 14 and 17 after having their first chemo. The wig lady told me it's usually not until after the second chemo that people's hair is gone. I secretly hoped that with the silica-rich supplement I'm taking (food grade diatomaceious earth I've taken frequently which has helped my hair grow thicker and several inches longer) perhaps I would go longer before losing my hair. This was not to be. Yesterday was Day 12 after chemo, and today is Day 13, and it isn't even Day 14 yet. 

When I thought about having my devotions and reading the Bible, I wondered if there would be anything in the Bible that would remotely relate to losing one's hair because of chemo. 

The first verse that came to my mind was, "But the very hairs of your head are all numbered." I thought that was in Matthew, and sure enough, after checking my huge Strongs Concordance that my mother gave me as a high school graduation gift about 40 years ago, I found the verse in Matthew 10:30. It is also in Luke 12:7. 

Not everything in one gospel is also in another gospel, but this is one verse that is in two gospels--word for word (at least in the NKJV). It must have made quite an impression on more than one person following Jesus' ministry. 

This statement was made in Matthew in the context of Jesus sending the twelve out to minister--not to the Gentiles or Samaritans at that point, but to "the lost sheep of the house of Israel." To their fellow Jews, including religious and non-religious people.  Jesus was reminding the disciples not to be afraid of anything, not even death, because God valued them and was going to take care of them.

In Luke, the statement was made in the context of the Pharisees assailing Jesus, and Jesus turning to His disciples to warn them about the Pharisees. He was telling the disciples to beware of religious people who cover up their sins and end up with the biggest and baddest sin of all--hypocrisy. Jesus was telling the disciples to not fear religious or cultish people who would accuse them, arrest them, interrogate them, beat them, and sometimes even kill them--for His name's sake and for following their Messiah.

It was in those contexts that Jesus reminds His disciples how much value they are to God by saying, "Even the very hairs of your head are all numbered."

It seems to me that this statement was all about God valuing us so much that He is going to protect us all the time--not necessarily from trials but through trials.

He thinks about us.

He cares about us and the smallest details of our lives (including our hair and our feelings of losing value when we lose a part of our body and appearance that makes us who we are).

He wants us not to be afraid, but rather to use every opportunity to confess and share Jesus Christ and the gospel that will lead men to repentance and faith in Christ.

So even when all my hair has fallen out, and I am completely bald and trying to find a comfortable hat that will remotely match (or contrast with) whatever outfit I am wearing on a given day, I ought to still try to find a way as often as possible to speak a word for my Lord and to confess my faith in Christ--at home, at the cancer center, in the hospital or clinic, everywhere I go.

He counts the hairs that will go into the wastebasket shortly (unless I find some creative way to save or use them), He sees the sparrow when it falls, and He cares about the silent gulps of a wife and mother staring at herself in the mirror while her up-do keeps falling down.  Even the hairs of our heads are all numbered--much less all the times we must face insults, accusations, and persecutions for the sake of Christ and righteousness and simply the truth.  

And we are not to be afraid, but to remember that even if we are so devalued as to be killed like a common sparrow, we must always remember that in God's sight, we are of great value, to the extent that every hair on our head (or falling off of it) is numbered.And God has His limits on what man or devil or the curse can do unto us.

This far and no further.

This many and no more.

This long, and no longer.

God has numbered our hairs, our days, and our trials. Some day the curse will be done, our battle will be over, and instead of a hat perching lightly on a poor bald head, God will set a crown on a new and healthy head (that will surely have gorgeous hair all over it) and will be showing us through His heavenly kingdom that He has prepared for those Who love Him--even through cancer with all its trials.

Sunday's Joys--Fetching, Feasting, Following

 Yesterday was a wonderful Sunday. Hannah thought we should check at the nursing home again, as we have for the last few Sundays, to see if the temporary Covid lock-down is over yet and if "Beaver" (her nickname) could come to church. Beaver had covid herself, the nurses said, about three weeks ago. I thought it would be too cold to push Beaver down the street, but we went to the nursing home, whose entry sidewalk was gloriously decorated along both sides for Halloween with naked skeletons boasting long, black wisps of tulle. Jonathan and Hannah went inside, Jonathan coming back out to hold the door for a nurse who was bringing three residents out to get their smokes for the morning. Each of the residents had his own plastic bag of fire-proof apron which the nurse helped them put on. Then the nurse was pulling cigarettes out of his pocket and helping them with lighting and getting started on their morning smokes with the sunshine and skeletons!

Before I knew it, the door opened again, and here came Jonathan and Hannah with no less than our friend, Beaver!  She had a coat on, and while Jonathan drove me back to church, Danny and Hannah pushed her the five blocks to church. In the above picture, there they go up the ramp, all because Hannah was thoughtful and persistent when her mom thought there was probably no use! 

It's true, that before service was over, Beaver was starting to push herself to the back, saying that she needed to go now, so we had to get her out the back door and on her way with Danny pushing the wheelchair and Hannah driving the car to bring Danny back! But still, she got to come to church, be with friends, enjoy a hot cup of coffee (a special privilege reserved only for Beaver!), and hear God's Word and some good music.

I think music is one of God's ways to attract people to Himself and to church. A few Sundays ago, a grandma who had just lost her Christian husband, "Chuck," who used to attend our church, came to church with Chuck's old guitar.

She wanted to give it to Hannah, since she understood that Hannah plays guitar. 

Hannah took Chuck's guitar home, sat down, tuned it up, and promptly sang a song with it--"God is good all the time." She did such a good job, that we encouraged her to sing the song in church next Sunday, hoping very much Chuck's wife would be there. 

We wanted Chuck's wife to know that the guitar was being used already.

Hannah did sing, Chuck's wife was there, and she beamed!

How she loved seeing her husband's guitar being played!

And she kept coming to church each Sunday! 

Yesterday she brought two huge packages of fried chicken to heat in the oven, as well as a huge carton of her own homemade potato salad. I ate three pieces of fried chicken--one of the few foods I have enjoyed and felt good eating since having chemo. 

At first, this grandmother, who had almost never attended church before her husband died, showed up with her two granddaughters whom her husband used to bring to church, and appeared uncertain and bashful. 

Now she sits and beams--and is beginning to contribute.

She is feeling a part.

 

Nothing could make us happier, and we are grateful for Hannah's willingness to be used of God to reach people in small but practical ways. She came home last night after evening service, where Jonathan had been asked to fill in for Keith Lavery who is away, telling me that one of the native men off the street had made a positive comment to Jonathan about his message.

The theme had been "Lessons from a Garden."

Jonathan had sat down at the meal afterward with four native men, and then when Jonathan was getting up to leave, one of the men said about the message, "I was following you."

It was a very simple comment, but it meant a lot to us. The man had been able to follow simple stories, illustrations, Bible verses, and truths from God's Word based on growing a garden and harvesting its fruits.

I can hardly imagine a better compliment to a speaker than that a hearer was able to "follow."

The hearer was not feeling driven. 

He was not being put down.  

He was not getting lost in the brush.

He was able to follow the message--truth that could help him in his life. 

What a wonderful Sunday joy with which to finish the day!

"Your dad's cool."

Last week Danny was taking extra lunch along to share with one of the guys who has been working for Jonathan this week. 

Together with other native men, Danny and this man were finishing painting trim and siding on the mission building.

Here's what the building looked like two or three weeks ago, with old siding pulled off.

 New siding on but not painted and trimmed completely yet.

Anyway, as Hannah and I were getting supper on, Danny told us about the homeless young native man that the mission has been giving some work to the last three days. I asked if the man liked the sandwich Danny took for him.

That day it was burger sandwiches made with extra burgers Jonathan had grilled the night before. (I don't particularly care for cold burgers, but if you put enough ketchup and mustard and relish on them, they're okay, and you know the meat is homegrown versus cheap sandwich meat from the store.) We didn't know if the worker would enjoy a cold burger like my men do or not.

"He said, 'Tasty burger!'" Danny told us. "We paid this guy $30 last night so he could buy something to eat, and he came to work this morning with donuts and Red Bull."

That's what he was expecting to live on and work on.

So Danny gave him a meat sandwich and also shared his big piece of apple pie.  

Danny added, "He told me 'Your dad's cool.' And when I was like, "Yeah," he said, "He really loves you." 

"Later he asked if I had a mom," Danny remembered. We wonder what his home life was like. Did he even know who his mom was?

 

Did he have one who may have mixed up oatmeal apple waffles for breakfast one time in his far distant past like Danny's mom did Saturday?

Might she have made French toast? Ever?

Did he have a dad? 

"I wonder what it was that made him realize how much your dad loves you," I pondered.
On the work site, I was sure there were no hugs, kisses, "I love yous" or pats on the back!

 But we thought how Jonathan always talks man-to-man to Danny and gives him instructions in a clear and kind voice, and that's probably what the young man noticed--a dad taking time with his son and treating him kindly. Jonathan always lets Danny know when he's going somewhere else and perhaps the man noticed thoughtful interaction, perhaps a simple "See you later, Danny," as Jonathan headed off to another place or inside to do paperwork. 

Such simple interactions mean so much to someone who is "out on their luck,"

 someone who's sleeping nights in a messy car, not sure where the next meal is coming from--

only to have a young man share a homemade lunch with him, put together by a mom who is there for her son nearly every morning before he heads off to work with his dad--a dad who loves his son so much that it shows everywhere they go,

a dad that's pretty "cool."