“Grandma, what color do blue and green make?” asked Emily.
I was trying to quickly get her into bed for her nap after returning home from the science center. I knew she was tired and required her rest.
Absentmindedly, as I covered her up, I replied, “It makes purple.”
“No, grandma, red and blue make purple,” she stated with confidence.
I could not believe my mistake and then to be corrected by a three year old! “You are right. I was not thinking.”
Emily started laughing. “Ashlyn, grandma said that blue and green make purple!!”
Both girls giggled at my silly mistake. Though humbled, I joined them in laughter.
The goof caused Emily and I to invent our own game. She sat up, repeated my mistake, and then I pushed her back down. We would both laugh, and the cycle would start over again. The girls even made up a song about grandma saying blue and green make purple. When their mom came home, my goof was instantly relayed to her.
Children can be relentless when they observe a crack in our “perfect” adult persona. Unfortunately, that trait often does not go away when childhood becomes adulthood. Perhaps it makes us seem better as we point out the mistakes and flaws in others. We might say it is for their own good, but the intensity and duration of the “helpfulness”often do not match the offense.
I will certainly not forget what I learned many years ago that red and blue produce purple. I will also think more before speaking to prevent avoidable errors and to prevent unnecessary and unwanted “helping”. Sometimes pointing out mistakes and flaws can be beneficial, but it is good to analyze the motives and methods.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
A Lesson in Patience
Water to his knees. Tiptoeing silently along the shoreline. I watched, fascinated, by his endeavors. The blue heron stretched his long neck, stared at the calm water, and then moved on. With his head erect, he gazed further out into the dark lake. With extreme patience, he waded, walked, and looked with no rush at all.
My patience was short as I urged him to catch something so I could see the flash of movement when he snatched his prey. Then I could get on with my morning devotions. He was not in a hurry but continued watchful waiting for the perfect strike. He rarely misses after his deliberate, diligent waits.
How often have I plunged into a situation before I was thoroughly prepared? There have been times when I grew impatient and moved forward when the time was not right. I have attempted to be in control when it would have been better to wait on God’s timing. The next time I become impatient or try to forge ahead even though it does not really seem right, I will remember the single, blue heron who calmly walks the shore.
My patience was short as I urged him to catch something so I could see the flash of movement when he snatched his prey. Then I could get on with my morning devotions. He was not in a hurry but continued watchful waiting for the perfect strike. He rarely misses after his deliberate, diligent waits.
How often have I plunged into a situation before I was thoroughly prepared? There have been times when I grew impatient and moved forward when the time was not right. I have attempted to be in control when it would have been better to wait on God’s timing. The next time I become impatient or try to forge ahead even though it does not really seem right, I will remember the single, blue heron who calmly walks the shore.
A Lesson in Patience
Water to his knees. Tiptoeing silently along the shoreline. I watched, fascinated, by his endeavors. The blue heron stretched his long neck, stared at the calm water, and then moved on. With his head erect, he gazed further out into the dark lake. With extreme patience, he waded, walked, and looked with no rush at all.
My patience was short as I urged him to catch something so I could see the flash of movement when he snatched his prey. Then I could get on with my morning devotions. He was not in a hurry but continued watchful waiting for the perfect strike. He rarely misses after his deliberate, diligent waits.
How often have I plunged into a situation before I was thoroughly prepared? There have been times when I grew impatient and moved forward when the time was not right. I have attempted to be in control when it would have been better to wait on God’s timing. The next time I become impatient or try to forge ahead even though it does not really seem right, I will remember the single, blue heron who calmly walks the shore.
My patience was short as I urged him to catch something so I could see the flash of movement when he snatched his prey. Then I could get on with my morning devotions. He was not in a hurry but continued watchful waiting for the perfect strike. He rarely misses after his deliberate, diligent waits.
How often have I plunged into a situation before I was thoroughly prepared? There have been times when I grew impatient and moved forward when the time was not right. I have attempted to be in control when it would have been better to wait on God’s timing. The next time I become impatient or try to forge ahead even though it does not really seem right, I will remember the single, blue heron who calmly walks the shore.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Taking Risks
The family festival at a local farm was fun for Anne, Ashlyn, Emily, and me. First we picked strawberries from a large field sprinkled with red berries. After putting the berries in the car, we were ready for the girls to explore the various activities.
Because there was a fee for two rides, the girls had to pick one. Both girls decided to try the elephant since pony rides were more common. After waiting for several minutes, it was their turn to climb the high, wooden platform. Emily’s small legs had to stretch to reach each step, but she made it on her own. Ashlyn pulled herself up onto the elephant’s back, but Emily needed a lift. They straddled the huge animal’s back and grabbed the bar that partially enclosed them. The elephant plodded around the small area—plodded along by its trainer. When Anne poised the camera for pictures, the girls grinned. I saw no evidence of fear but only excitement.
On the obstacle course, they ran between poles, crossed tubes, and climbed fences. The only problem was when Emily got stuck at the top of the fence and did not know how to get down. She tried valiantly before asking for help.
During the hayride, Ashlyn declined sitting on my lap when the space was limited. Instead, she preferred to sit opposite us by herself. She calmly looked down at two snakes that were on the ground by her side of the wagon.
While on the swings, Emily kept wanting to go higher and higher. Previously, she had only wanted to move a little bit but was learning to swing herself.
Both girls ran to the zipline to wait their turn. Most in line were older boys but that did not deter the girls. From the high, wooden stand children had to grasp the handles which would take them to the end. A mother, who stood on the platform, helped each child get onto the apparatus before they zipped away. Her husband sent the handles back to her after the ride.
I held the handles so she could boost Ashlyn up. Away she went in a blur with Anne on the ground snapping pictures. Emily was so tiny that she had to be picked and held high so she could grab the handle with her teeny fingers. With trepidation, I watched her zoom down the line hanging high above the ground. At the end, a father caught her and lowered her to the ground. As fast as they could run, both girls returned to the line for another trip. I held my breath until the each finished but laughed at their enthusiasm and courage. I would not have depended on my own fingers to hold me as I flew many feet above the ground.
Every activity they tried required them to face fear and risk, but they did it with joy. I thought of the consequences of what could happen if they fell, but they only thought of the fun they would have. They had a delightful day filled with many pleasant memories instead of regrets for not trying.
Unfortunately, as adults we often think of all the risks which keeps us from experiencing the fullness of life. Of course, we do not want to be reckless but some risks are beneficial. Perhaps by taking a class, volunteering in the community, visiting a neighbor, starting a career, traveling to a different place, speaking before a group, writing a book, or attending church. Each person has specific fears and insecurities to be faced and overcome. Maybe the results won’t be what we desired, but at least, we will know that we tried. There may be wonderful surprises.
When I think of excuses for why I should not do something, I will remember Ashlyn and Emily hanging from the towering zipline with their little fingers holding on tightly while relishing the ride. If they can take risks joyfully, so can we.
Because there was a fee for two rides, the girls had to pick one. Both girls decided to try the elephant since pony rides were more common. After waiting for several minutes, it was their turn to climb the high, wooden platform. Emily’s small legs had to stretch to reach each step, but she made it on her own. Ashlyn pulled herself up onto the elephant’s back, but Emily needed a lift. They straddled the huge animal’s back and grabbed the bar that partially enclosed them. The elephant plodded around the small area—plodded along by its trainer. When Anne poised the camera for pictures, the girls grinned. I saw no evidence of fear but only excitement.
On the obstacle course, they ran between poles, crossed tubes, and climbed fences. The only problem was when Emily got stuck at the top of the fence and did not know how to get down. She tried valiantly before asking for help.
During the hayride, Ashlyn declined sitting on my lap when the space was limited. Instead, she preferred to sit opposite us by herself. She calmly looked down at two snakes that were on the ground by her side of the wagon.
While on the swings, Emily kept wanting to go higher and higher. Previously, she had only wanted to move a little bit but was learning to swing herself.
Both girls ran to the zipline to wait their turn. Most in line were older boys but that did not deter the girls. From the high, wooden stand children had to grasp the handles which would take them to the end. A mother, who stood on the platform, helped each child get onto the apparatus before they zipped away. Her husband sent the handles back to her after the ride.
I held the handles so she could boost Ashlyn up. Away she went in a blur with Anne on the ground snapping pictures. Emily was so tiny that she had to be picked and held high so she could grab the handle with her teeny fingers. With trepidation, I watched her zoom down the line hanging high above the ground. At the end, a father caught her and lowered her to the ground. As fast as they could run, both girls returned to the line for another trip. I held my breath until the each finished but laughed at their enthusiasm and courage. I would not have depended on my own fingers to hold me as I flew many feet above the ground.
Every activity they tried required them to face fear and risk, but they did it with joy. I thought of the consequences of what could happen if they fell, but they only thought of the fun they would have. They had a delightful day filled with many pleasant memories instead of regrets for not trying.
Unfortunately, as adults we often think of all the risks which keeps us from experiencing the fullness of life. Of course, we do not want to be reckless but some risks are beneficial. Perhaps by taking a class, volunteering in the community, visiting a neighbor, starting a career, traveling to a different place, speaking before a group, writing a book, or attending church. Each person has specific fears and insecurities to be faced and overcome. Maybe the results won’t be what we desired, but at least, we will know that we tried. There may be wonderful surprises.
When I think of excuses for why I should not do something, I will remember Ashlyn and Emily hanging from the towering zipline with their little fingers holding on tightly while relishing the ride. If they can take risks joyfully, so can we.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The Splendor of Spring
Rebecca Carpenter
March 27, 2010
Filmy haze danced just above the lake in the early morning chill. A cloudless, blue tinged sky formed a canopy. I savored the serenity while I sipped my hot tea and snuggled in my wicker chair on the patio.
My personal zoo stretched before me. I delighted at the number of animals in my oak tree. Three squirrels played a game of hide and seek—up and down the trunk and out onto the limbs. A brilliantly colored blue jay swooped from the tree to the feeder—scaring away the smaller sparrows. They immediately returned each time he left and formed a circle as they ate. My favorite scarlet cardinal took his turn after calling his mate. He even dropped a seed into her mouth. A single red bellied sapsucker circled the tree while tapping at the trunk. One squirrel ventured to a small bush closer to the feeder. He gazed longingly at the tasty morsels but finally realized the gap was too far to jump and scampered away. A lone dove scavenged on the ground for dropped seeds. Along the shore, a great white egret tiptoed quietly with only his head showing. Splashing water startled me as I observed a large bird rising from the lake. In his talons was a very frightened fish that would soon be breakfast.
The “silent” morning was actually filled with a bird chorus. Melodic patterns echoed back and forth across the lake. Tweets, chirps, and caws joined together to produce a pleasant interlude. Punctuating the tune was the clicking of the cardinal.
Sunlight illuminated bright green trees showcasing the newness of spring. Streams of light highlighted the trunks of tall pines bordering the water.
The beauty of the morning captivated me. I was encased in a magical world of God’s magnificent creation. Each tree, flower, and bush added their own special touch to my private zoo with its exceptional wildlife. I longed to remain and seclude myself in its grandeur. However, the duties of the day called to me. I smiled knowing that the memories would be replayed in my mind. Even though I would not be able to stay, I could take a break wherever I might find myself to really enjoy the scenery. What wonderful surprises await me when I really open my eyes!
Rebecca Carpenter
March 27, 2010
Filmy haze danced just above the lake in the early morning chill. A cloudless, blue tinged sky formed a canopy. I savored the serenity while I sipped my hot tea and snuggled in my wicker chair on the patio.
My personal zoo stretched before me. I delighted at the number of animals in my oak tree. Three squirrels played a game of hide and seek—up and down the trunk and out onto the limbs. A brilliantly colored blue jay swooped from the tree to the feeder—scaring away the smaller sparrows. They immediately returned each time he left and formed a circle as they ate. My favorite scarlet cardinal took his turn after calling his mate. He even dropped a seed into her mouth. A single red bellied sapsucker circled the tree while tapping at the trunk. One squirrel ventured to a small bush closer to the feeder. He gazed longingly at the tasty morsels but finally realized the gap was too far to jump and scampered away. A lone dove scavenged on the ground for dropped seeds. Along the shore, a great white egret tiptoed quietly with only his head showing. Splashing water startled me as I observed a large bird rising from the lake. In his talons was a very frightened fish that would soon be breakfast.
The “silent” morning was actually filled with a bird chorus. Melodic patterns echoed back and forth across the lake. Tweets, chirps, and caws joined together to produce a pleasant interlude. Punctuating the tune was the clicking of the cardinal.
Sunlight illuminated bright green trees showcasing the newness of spring. Streams of light highlighted the trunks of tall pines bordering the water.
The beauty of the morning captivated me. I was encased in a magical world of God’s magnificent creation. Each tree, flower, and bush added their own special touch to my private zoo with its exceptional wildlife. I longed to remain and seclude myself in its grandeur. However, the duties of the day called to me. I smiled knowing that the memories would be replayed in my mind. Even though I would not be able to stay, I could take a break wherever I might find myself to really enjoy the scenery. What wonderful surprises await me when I really open my eyes!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Signs of Hope
Signs of Hope
Rebecca Carpenter
March 23, 2010
Since arriving home from our long trip, my sleep had been erratic and a bad cold had sapped my energy. One cool morning, I ventured onto the patio with my fuzzy robe and a cup of hot tea.
Winter in Florida had been longer and colder than any I had experienced. Normally, in March I would be wearing shorts, working in the yard, and enjoying the warm sunshine. This year was quite different.
Before Alan and I left on our month long journey, the lawn was brown and many plants were lifeless and droopy. We had been advised to not cut back any plants until March so we left hoping that some would survive.
As I peered at the lawn from my favorite patio chair, I was pleasantly surprised. Green grass had overtaken the dead, brown blades. Tiny, bright green leaves poked out on previously barren branches. A single, white African lily peeked from green leaves. The most astonishing sight was our azaleas at the edge of the patio. Before we left, their scraggly brown leaves seemed to show very damaged plants. What a transformation they had made. Each bush was swathed in colorful blooms-bright pink, variegated pink, and muted rose. They had defied the cold to harm them and burst forth with a glorious display.
Next to them, my birthday petunia also exploded with bright, pink flowers. The entire section of garden next to my favorite spot with filled with color.
In addition to the lovely landscape, I was greeted with beautiful music from a chorus of birds. My favorite red cardinal perked at the feeder as if welcoming me home. The red bellied sapsucker tapped at the oak providing percussion for the symphony.
Spring had finally arrived. Perhaps it was more stunning and cherished because of the longer, colder winter and because I had not been feeling well. Even though the landscape still held brown leaves and dead plants, hope had returned.
When we feel that all is lost, we can remember the exquisite splendor of spring.
Rebecca Carpenter
March 23, 2010
Since arriving home from our long trip, my sleep had been erratic and a bad cold had sapped my energy. One cool morning, I ventured onto the patio with my fuzzy robe and a cup of hot tea.
Winter in Florida had been longer and colder than any I had experienced. Normally, in March I would be wearing shorts, working in the yard, and enjoying the warm sunshine. This year was quite different.
Before Alan and I left on our month long journey, the lawn was brown and many plants were lifeless and droopy. We had been advised to not cut back any plants until March so we left hoping that some would survive.
As I peered at the lawn from my favorite patio chair, I was pleasantly surprised. Green grass had overtaken the dead, brown blades. Tiny, bright green leaves poked out on previously barren branches. A single, white African lily peeked from green leaves. The most astonishing sight was our azaleas at the edge of the patio. Before we left, their scraggly brown leaves seemed to show very damaged plants. What a transformation they had made. Each bush was swathed in colorful blooms-bright pink, variegated pink, and muted rose. They had defied the cold to harm them and burst forth with a glorious display.
Next to them, my birthday petunia also exploded with bright, pink flowers. The entire section of garden next to my favorite spot with filled with color.
In addition to the lovely landscape, I was greeted with beautiful music from a chorus of birds. My favorite red cardinal perked at the feeder as if welcoming me home. The red bellied sapsucker tapped at the oak providing percussion for the symphony.
Spring had finally arrived. Perhaps it was more stunning and cherished because of the longer, colder winter and because I had not been feeling well. Even though the landscape still held brown leaves and dead plants, hope had returned.
When we feel that all is lost, we can remember the exquisite splendor of spring.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Tiny Ministers
A few years ago when I was babysitting for Ashlyn and Emily, I was amazed at what they taught me. Emily was not happy that her parents left for the evening and started crying. Nothing that I did made her stop so Ashlyn said she would “read” the story before bed. After we finished a book, Ashlyn announced that Emily wanted a Bible story. Four year old Ashlyn selected the children’s Bible from the basket of books.
“Emily, what story do you want?” she asked. It was obvious that she knew the stories as she thumbed through the pages.
“Here is one about David and Goliath. Goliath was a giant. David was a small boy. David used his sling shot with a stone and hit Goliath. God was with him,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Emily, let’s pray.” As she prayed she said each word slowly so that Emily could repeat them.
“Jesus, thank you for David. Thank you for Goliath. Amen,” they both said.
I understood why she prayed for David but why Goliath? Then I remembered Ephesians 5:19-20 …Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Without a Goliath, David may have only been an unknown shepherd. The difficult people and situations in our lives shape us and prepare us for God’s special plans. That was my first sermon from the small minister.
The next story that Ashlyn chose was the one about Mary and Martha.
“Martha wanted to clean the house and fix food,” she said while studying the brightly colored pictures. Then she looked at her little sister, cupped her hand over her ear, and proclaimed, “But Mary listened to Jesus. Emily, she listened.”
Emily cupped her hand over her tiny ear as she imitated her big sister.
“Let’s pray. Emily, say this. Jesus, thank you for Martha and her sister, Mary.” Again, Ashlyn spoke slowly and distinctly so that Emily could repeat every word.
The second sermon that I heard was the importance of really listening to those around us. What a joy to see both girls grow physically and spiritually. When Jesus said to let the little children come to Him, He knew how important they were and that they could teach in their own sweet, precious way. Grandma was certainly learning from the tiny ministers.
“Emily, what story do you want?” she asked. It was obvious that she knew the stories as she thumbed through the pages.
“Here is one about David and Goliath. Goliath was a giant. David was a small boy. David used his sling shot with a stone and hit Goliath. God was with him,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Emily, let’s pray.” As she prayed she said each word slowly so that Emily could repeat them.
“Jesus, thank you for David. Thank you for Goliath. Amen,” they both said.
I understood why she prayed for David but why Goliath? Then I remembered Ephesians 5:19-20 …Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Without a Goliath, David may have only been an unknown shepherd. The difficult people and situations in our lives shape us and prepare us for God’s special plans. That was my first sermon from the small minister.
The next story that Ashlyn chose was the one about Mary and Martha.
“Martha wanted to clean the house and fix food,” she said while studying the brightly colored pictures. Then she looked at her little sister, cupped her hand over her ear, and proclaimed, “But Mary listened to Jesus. Emily, she listened.”
Emily cupped her hand over her tiny ear as she imitated her big sister.
“Let’s pray. Emily, say this. Jesus, thank you for Martha and her sister, Mary.” Again, Ashlyn spoke slowly and distinctly so that Emily could repeat every word.
The second sermon that I heard was the importance of really listening to those around us. What a joy to see both girls grow physically and spiritually. When Jesus said to let the little children come to Him, He knew how important they were and that they could teach in their own sweet, precious way. Grandma was certainly learning from the tiny ministers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)