Favorite Inaugural Moments

I don't remember watching almost an entire day of inauguration proceedings as I did Monday, January 20th, when President Trump took office and we could finally wave goodbye to the insanity of the last four years. 

I didn't get online till about 10:30 Central time, and Hannah and I watched (part of her American Civics class) off and on the rest of the day.

How refreshing to hear a President finally say something intelligent as well as intelligible. Can you imagine?

We finally have a president that you can understand what he is saying!

And he says things as profound as, "Under my administration there will only be two genders--male and female."

Oh my word!

This had to be one of my favorite moments--the Vances' little boy hanging his teddy bear over the rail in front of the whole crowd in Capital One Arena late in the afternoon after the inaugural luncheon, military review, and other speeches or ceremonies.

There it was, something as simple as an old fashioned teddy bear by the presidential insignia--bringing a touch of humanity and simplicity to the pomp and ceremony. 

Throughout the day, I wondered what God thought of everything. 

You know, all the pomp, the covering up of feelings and attitudes so that everyone would look good in the moment, the crowd, the speeches, the impossible promises, the glamor, the class and elegance--or lack thereof,

high heels, applause, military review--you name it. 

God had to be looking down and seeing what was going on. 

I wonder what He thought. 

Was the military review as big a joke to Him as I thought it was?  I wondered just how militarily ready our nation is to defend ourselves if God lifts His hand.

I rather believe God liked that moment of teddy bear childlikeness as much as anything--but I could be mistaken, because I can't see hearts.

I believe He also must have liked when President Trump--and isn't it wonderful to get to say that again!--sought to give Him honor in more than one time and way. Perhaps it was just lip-service. I don't know. But in the Bible we read again and again that God honored even heathen kings that acknowledged Him. 

But I digress.  

Another very touching moment was at the very beginning of the parades that marched through Capitol One Arena, when the Butler Fire Department marched in carrying the suit that Mr. Compertore left behind when he gave his life in place of Mr. Trump several months ago at the attempted assassination. 

We watched President Trump melt into a thousand pieces as he saluted--and remembered. 

We at the computer joined in the moment of silence like everyone else. 
I pray the family will take comfort in knowing God saw all that happened--and in knowing that Mr. Compertore was ready to meet His Judge and Savior. 

We watched the President and Vice President and their wives stand to wave at the outgoing President as he left in the helicopter.

How cold they must have been, and how those ladies' feet must have been "killing them," as I read that Melania Trump admitted later.  

At home in South Dakota, in between times, I donned my chore coat and hurried out into the cold myself to gather eggs and bring in firewood. I had made goat cheese earlier in the day, and I took the warm and watered-down whey in this big pan out to the goats--who slurp it down in one and half minutes flat. 

I had forgotten to take the egg basket, but rather than return through the bitter cold to the house for it, I put the eggs from the coop into the whey pan to take to the house.

The bitter cold air almost had me nauseated.

There definitely was not the pomp present in Washington, D. C. when Anna Lucas headed to the barn--and came back into the house to shiver and shake in front of the wood stove!  

Still, a country family couldn't help enjoying some of the pomp and parade--and celebrating a President who is freeing about 1500 American hostages--held captive in their own country ever since January Six--including hundreds who were imprisoned months and years later after fresh roundups of anyone near the Capitol on that infamous date, even innocent people who were simply in the vicinity of a place that has always been open to the public,

and one or more who have been imprisoned for Pro-Life activities. 

We cheered when he signed documents getting us out of the W H O and out of the Paris Climate Agreement. 

And we watched in delight as he tossed pens with which he had signed executive orders out to the people watching in the Arena.

No hiding behind closed doors

No refusal to take on reporters in person.

It's in the open.

And those were some of my favorite moments.

The Bridge I Thought Would Never Happen

 I didn't think this bridge would ever happen--at least not for probably at least a couple years--the bridge across the draw between our house and the barn.

But when the boys (I still call my grown sons boys) were here at Christmas time, one day they decided to start the bridge.

They laid out the steel beams Jonathan had picked up one day from some sort of scrap metal place for a little bit of nothing back in Colorado before we moved. These beams had come up I think in our very first load of materials and trusses from Colorado. 

It took two  of those 30-ft beams to stretch across the draw, with support posts in the middle.

I went out once to take pictures, but then I just had to leave, because the project was giving me heebie-jeebies.

Building bridges is not for the faint of heart.

It takes work, skill, patience, and persistence.

And courage. 

It's also not just for humans. Goats were quite sure they would use the bridge, too. And yes, they do. 

As the day progressed, the guys not only laid the beams but screwed between the beams the planks Tim had sawed on his mill and brought up. We had others we'd stacked and saved, but there weren't quite enough to go across the whole way.  

At the one end, we just have a couple long planks to finish the bridge until Tim can bring us some more lumber or we find some plank lumber somewhere else.

 A bridge doesn't have to be perfect to work. 

This bridge has made all the difference with making the barn more reachable from the house--especially in snowy or icy weather. I was constantly nervous about traversing the steep banks between house and barn, but now I can head across a level bridge and reach the chicken coop to gather eggs without slipping and falling up or down the bank.

I think of other bridges desperately needing to be built--bridges between relationships separated by steep banks.

Long beams of love and humility are needed,

and then one plank after another of kindness, forgiveness, and understanding.

One humble plank after another across the beams.

Because a bridge doesn't have to be perfect to reach the other side. 

 

Even the Swallow Has Found a Nest

 Sunday before New Years Day after morning service at the local Nazarene church where Jonathan had been asked to fill in, we had a half hour before joining Lakota church for the meal after service.

 

 So we took a little walk in the sunshine and fresh air somewhere down Power Dam Road where there used to be a dam and even some kind of water-powered facility. 

Some time way back in the who-knows-when.

Interestingly, we found this 1924 date inscribed on this old wall.

That was exactly 100 years ago.

(Until this year, at which time, it has been 101 years ago!)

We noticed these nifty steps made from old tires and filled with dirt. (Amazing what can be made from tires and dirt!)

Then Danny noticed something else made from dirt.

There he was, pointing at something he had just discovered. 

I hadn't gone down there with the rest of them, but I was taking a few random pictures. And there were the three of the family looking and looking at something.

On the concrete wall near the dam were perhaps hundreds of swallow nests made of mud! It was just unbelievable.

Completely vacant this time of year, we could tell that come spring and summer, this place is going to be alive with a colony of swallows having found a spot to build their nests--safe from predators such as the foxes, coyotes, and porcupines prowling on the ground or in trees and from hawks and eagles soaring through the air--

like the eagle this morning swooping just past our house. 

I thought immediately of the little bookmark from my Bible that had been on the window sill earlier that month. 

"Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young--even Your altars, O Lord God of hosts. Blessed are those who dwell in your house."

I looked at those simple, yet not-so-simple mud nests. 

Even the swallows last year had found homes and nests of refuge for their families.

And are not You, O God, a place of refuge for me and my family--and all the families and children of those who fear You?

In these days of uncertainty, wars and rumors of wars, disasters, and evil,

may we abide near your altars--and find our home in You!

With Castaway Denim, Make Quilts

  My heart was in my fingertips a while ago--ready to type.

About quilts--these darling quilts (made by Nebraska friends of SIM, from discarded denim jeans)--

and disappointments--

and what to do when one's hopes are in pieces like those discarded jeans.

It seemed like maybe it wasn't the right time to type, though--when my heart was hurting so much,

reading a happy announcement from a sister

while watching one of my own children navigating a big disappointment.

 Definitely one of those times when I need to remind myself that comparisons are not healthy.

It's just that you can't help comparing.

And that is why a mother has to slip away from the keyboard and go to her God by the window. 

"I must not work out my disappointment by typing," I told myself, "but by turning to my God alone."

And so there I stood by my bedroom window, willing myself to rely not on my own little ways of coping, 

but on God alone.   

And that is when a beautiful thing happened. 

 Just as my eyes closed in a quiet surrender, I felt something warm on my lash-less eyelids. 

The sun had just come out from behind a cloud!

The sun had been behind clouds most of the last several days, and it was at the moment of surrender to God alone

that it came out from behind the clouds and shone

on a simple little South Dakota missionary mom standing by a bedroom window.

God Himself was reaching out to me with the warmth of the sunshine on my face

as I gave to God alone

all the denim pieces of our hearts.

What We Take for Granted--Such as Eyelashes

 I would take a picture of my eyes and my lack of eyebrows and eyelashes now--except that it looks so gloriously inglorious that I won't pain you. At least not now. 

Right now I'm a bit of a tuck-head.

Maybe when I wax ingloriously more brave and macho, I will post a picture of my eyebrow-less eyebrows

and eyelash-less eyelids.

For now, my ducks--and my eyelashes--are (as I read to my amusement recently) not in a row,

and I'm quite sure some of them are pigeons! :) :)

I realize over and over how at times I certainly took my health and a fairly normal body for granted.

Last evening when an eyelash (or was it an eyebrow?) suddenly found its landing place in my eye for no apparent reason, and then this morning when a tiny hot splash from a sizzling BBQ sauce hit my eyeball,

I realized anew how important it is to have intact eyebrows and eyelashes.

They're all made by God with creative purpose.

Had I been the creator, I would have missed all sorts of body parts, including lashes and brows. Just imagine what each human being would look like--or how long each would survive--had you or I been the creator! 

"If it had not been the Lord--" I read in Psalm 125 recently. 

Yes, if the Creator had not been God,

if the Commander of the ten commandments had not been God--

if the Counselor had not been God--

what a mess we would all be! (The above photo, by the way is from a couple months ago when I still had a little hair.) 

Jonathan was trying to fix my new watchband which was a little too big around my wrist.  

But he couldn't get the miniscule staple into the teeny, tiny hole where it belonged to attach the expanding band parts together.  

He and I tried and tried and tried--and we just couldn't see well enough or get the tiny staple to cooperate.
So many tiny things in our lives that become huge because they can't seem to be fixed. 

But then Danny arrived on scene.

Now Danny is not God, but he has very good eyes and an amazing gift with being able to figure things out and fix things--

and in a whipstitch--voila! The staple inserted where it belonged, and I had a new watch with an expanding band that fit!

When we take a moment to stop taking our bodies, health, eyebrows, eyelashes, watchbands, and many other things in life for granted, we will find reasons to be amazed with our Creator,

to be humble before our Commander,

to love those around us whom he has created and put in our lives,

and to give thanks to our wonderful Counselor Who has the best eyes in the world and can fix the biggest and even the smallest issues that we have.

 

When a Mom Finds She is Still Useful to Her Boys

 My sons are growing up--or maybe they are already grown. And it's as difficult to wrap my mind around that as it is to tie a ribbon that's much too short around a Christmas gift.

 

Having risen long before the dawn, Tim sends photos occasionally of his mornings. He sent this one of logs being loaded onto his truck before heading down the snowy or muddy mountain roads--hairpin curves and all.

He tells me of close calls, and I am glad he waits until the weather is better before telling me about sliding 200 feet before coming to a stop on slippery roads--or of another time seeing the back end of his trailer start to tilt as he maneuvers a hairpin curve. A wheel had gone off the edge of the road!

"I sped up fast," he said matter-of-factly. "Had it been a few inches closer, the trailer may have tipped and twisted, and I might have been 50 feet down the cliff."

Yeah. 

So what. 

His cab and trailer end up being about 56 or more feet long, and he is taking this rig around hairpin curves without guard rails in the middle of winter!

And I am thinking, "That's my son doing that!" 

True, he chains up all the time when it's snowy, but still!

The only way I know how to handle my anxiety is to gulp a prayer every day--and promptly let go of my son into God's hands and forget about it--

 because God is lots more capable of helping my son down snowy roads in the middle of January than I am!

Three days into truck driver training, Tim's instructor recognized Tim had a knack for the job. He told him that if he took the test that very day, he'd pass, but that was not in the winter!

I never taught Tim to drive a logging truck in the winter and have no idea how to help except to pray and let go. 

However, when the boys are here for Christmas, and the leg of Sam's jeans is attacked by some sharp corner of some part of the frame of the seat in the Honda, 

I am gratified when he brings the jeans to me. 

"Can you fix this for me?" he asks. 

And although I cannot drive a logging truck in the middle of winter down snowy roads, 

this mom of grown sons feels useful again.

Patterns of Grace--Even in Ice

Winter finally arrived in South Dakota.

This morning, before leaving for Sunday morning service, Danny was out in the skid steer scraping snow the best he could off the drive.

It keeps him from being bored on a  Sunday morning! Our Lakota Chapel cancelled service because of the snow and deep cold, especially since Pastor is not doing too well, waiting for surgery, so we opted to join the worshipers who braved the cold to attend at the Nazarene church.

My sister in Missouri sent pictures of the sheet of ice over everything in their area. I doubt anyone in their area dared to go to church. 

 Miniature icicles hung from an axe somewhere there in Missouri! 

And up here in South Dakota, frost decorated our garage windows.  

Unbelievable patterns emerge in the frost!

 Inside the warm house, amaryllis blooms are gracing our kitchen table and windowsill, complete with green leaves, red petals, and velvety yellow stamens.

But even the frost looks like some kind of feathery plants complete with stems and leaves! I couldn't get over the intricate patterns! Frost is cold and miserable, yet full of amazing pattern.

 

 Even when the cold brush of cancer or grief or loss paints our windows, the brush of God's providence and allowing is full of pattern--

t

patterns of grace. 

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness."  

The deep red beauty of the summer days of happiness is no more symmetrical than the feathery white frost of winter's chill and challenge. 

 

May we both seek and find strange and wild symmetry and beauty even in the frost of afflictions.