Before my husband Michael was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease, we used to work well together as a team. We’ve provided foster care for three women with developmental disabilities in our home for many years. We used to work hard together, and the sense of accomplishment in a difficult job was very satisfying. (This is a picture of Michael fishing last summer.)

In the busy mornings Michael would get meds and breakfasts and good cheer started. I would pack lunches, make sure proper clothes were worn, and in the afternoons I would tackle our piles of paperwork. He and I shared the responsibilities of our Foster’s various medical appointments. He did the grocery shopping and I did the cooking. He did the laundry and I did the folding. Together we took our residents out for dinner, movies, on vacations and to concerts.

Now, because Parkinson’s causes Michael to experience some cognitive issues and confusion, I mostly do it all. There are days when I feel like I’m cooking and caring for the multitudes.

Here’s one little example of something that I’ve had to let go of due to Michael’s disease.

Michael takes a lot of medication, and he also likes to take vitamins. The bottom shelf in one of our kitchen cabinets has become the medicine shelf. I could see after a while that it was hard to keep organized, so I got two see-through plastic containers. The container on the left can hold all of Michael’s meds, and the container on the right holds all the vitamins. There was room for a neat stack of pill cups in the middle.

My way of keeping the medicine shelf was like this:

After a while it got harder and harder for Michael to stick to my method. He would take his meds and vitamins and just put them back willy-nilly, his way, often completely ignoring the two plastic containers.

Michael’s way looks like this:

At first I reminded him about it and asked if he wouldn’t mind putting his prescription meds in the container on the left and the vitamins on the right, and he would always say okay. But he could never remember to do it for longer than a day or two.

Each time I would open that cabinet I would be surprised and frustrated again at how he’d messed it up. I would think to myself, I have to do everything in this house. I am the resident slave. How hard is it for him to do just this one little thing?

So I started praying about some of these issues and my attitudes.

One morning I woke up and went downstairs, opened the kitchen cupboard where the medicine shelf is, and even though I had straightened it the day before, it was all messed up again. I sighed and whispered out loud, “What am I doing?” And it was the sort of prideful question one asks when one thinks something has gone wrong with their life and things just don’t seem fair.

Do you ever remember, in a time of frustration, thinking or saying out loud to yourself, “What am I doing here?” or “What am I trying to do?”

I’ve muttered those words to myself more than a few times in the past several years, and I believe the Lord has graciously helped me realize the answers to my questions. Here’s what I think the answers might be for me, and maybe for others:

You’re building a life. You’re leaving a legacy.

Those words began to resound in my heart louder with each passing day. As the borders of my life kept getting more confining and seemingly mundane, while I seemed to grow more tired and Michael’s and my conversations more infrequent and difficult, I could hear the Lord’s words, “Julie, you’re building a life.”

Isn’t that just like the Lord to tell me I’m building a life when all the things I think constitute a good married life are being pared away? But God’s Word is full of His upside down methods to remind me that His ways are not my ways.

God sent Gideon out to do battle after reducing his army from 32,000 to 300 men. (Judges, chapter 7)

God chose a poor, obscure virgin to be the mother of the King of Kings. (Luke, chapter 1)

The stuttering Moses was chosen to be a mighty mouthpiece for the Great I Am. (Exodus, chapters 3-4)

And God showed us through the life of His Son that the way to true joy and peace, the way to be like Him is to be a humble servant of all. God doesn’t accomplish His purposes in ways we ourselves would think to choose.

Jesus demonstrated this over and over and His disciples still didn’t fully understand even though they were right by His side for over three years. Even on their last night with Him, they were arguing about which one of them was the greatest! (Luke, chapter 22)

So lately I have this very keen, almost holy awareness, that with the strength that God gives me every day, I can humbly partner with Him in building a life.

Even at my age, and no matter what your age, we are still building our lives.

And when we make small choices every day to build and not tear down, to serve and not usurp, we not only build a life, we begin to leave a legacy.

Did any of you give up your career to stay home, change diapers and wipe noses, and if you did have you ever asked yourself, “What am I doing?”

Perhaps you married someone who seemed to be a fine man before the ceremony but has caused you more than a few heartaches, and you’ve wondered, “What am I doing here?”

It’s at times like these that the Lord can provide some much-needed clarity and remind us – “You’re building a life. You’re leaving a legacy.”

The last time I stood with a stinky attitude in front of that messy medicine cupboard, it’s as if the Lord asked, “Are you trying to have an orderly cabinet, or are you trying to build a life?”

And to others He might ask, “Are you trying to have perfect children, or are you trying to build a life with your family?”

It’s like when we sit behind a phoropter to have our eyes examined and the optometrist asks, “Which is better, one? Or two? Three, or four?”

Are you trying to let others know you’re smart, or are you trying to build a life?

Are you seeking the esteem of people, or are you seeking to build a life?

Do you want to be right, or do you want to build a life?

A legacy is something that’s handed down to those who survive us. And whatever we’ve built our lives with and on, that is our spiritual legacy. I’m not talking about a financial legacy here – money is temporal – I’m talking about an enduring, godly legacy, one where Jesus Christ has been visible and beautiful in our lives, and those we leave behind take Him seriously because we took Him seriously. And maybe those we leave behind will learn to love Jesus because they saw us love Him.

But what if we’re trying to build a life and those around us won’t cooperate? What if our children, our spouses, our neighbors, our siblings, even our friends, make it hard for us to be patient and display the humble character of Christ?

And what if we’re fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty years old and we’re not sure we like the legacy we’re leaving so far? What if no matter how hard we try we still seem to think or behave in ways that are sometimes more destructive than they are building?

Here are a couple of things we can remember.

First, I’ve written here about us building, but as Christians we know that it’s in Christ we live and move and have our being, and that we don’t draw a breath or think a thought without Him first having given us the ability to do so. So yes, we build, but it’s in His strength we’re to do it.

Secondly, God has the most miraculous and wonderful ability to restore what the locusts have eaten, even if the locusts are us.

Don’t let the enemy foul your vision if you’re in the autumn or winter of your life and you feel that the spiritual legacy you’re leaving your family and friends is not the one you could have.

Start today. Go humbly to the Lord and ask Him for supernatural strength to be a builder in the lives of those around you. Ask Him for the desire and the vision to continue to build even if others make it very difficult for you. Ask Him to change your legacy. If that seems impossible, then ask Him for the impossible! And keep on asking for it.

In the Community Bible Study class I attend, our lessons this year have highlighted the fact that God delights in the impossible. We’ve been reminded that He often likes to use the least likely in situations. When the Lord sent Elijah to the Kerith Ravine, who did God command to provide food for Elijah?

Ravens! Greedy, notoriously grasping ravenous ravens. Not friendly dogs or gentle doves or any other animal, but the one bird least likely to bring and share their food. (1 Kings, chapter 17)

When the Lord told Elijah it was time to leave the Kerith Ravine and go find food and water somewhere else, he could have sent him to the home of a wealthy person who had wisely stored food for the drought. But no, Elijah was sent to get food from a woman who was almost out of food, because God delights to show Himself the God who can do the impossible. That way He gets the glory that He, and no one else deserves. (1 Kings, chapter 17)

Lastly, on days when we realize that our words, actions and even thoughts haven’t been the kind that help build our lives and those around us, I think we need to remember His grace and mercy.

Ephesians 2 says God is rich in mercy, and that the riches of His grace are incomparable. That means there’s nothing in this universe that can compare, nothing is big enough, deep enough, high enough or wide enough to hold the riches of His grace and mercy, expressed in His kindness to us through Christ Jesus. He knew we would need a lot of it! Hey, He knew I would need a lot of it.

And what do we do when we’re submitting to the Lord, depending on Him to help us build our lives and leave legacies that will bring glory to His name, but no one seems to notice or care? Or what if our very own family members seem like they don’t want to join us in any life-building, legacy-leaving endeavors?

We do it anyway, delighting in the fact that even if the small choices we make are hidden to much of the world, they’re not hidden to God.

Recently I went on a silent retreat and while I was in my little prayer hermitage I took some pictures. This unremarkable photo is of some steam rising from a cup of tea I brewed.

It wasn’t until I got home and was formatting the pictures to put on this blog that I saw the little hidden detail that only God would have seen had I not snapped a photo.

Here’s a closeup of the same shot, and if you look carefully just above the cup and to the right of center a little bit, you might be able to see the perfectly formed swirly spiral of steam. It looks like the top of a tiny cinnamon bun, and of course it was gone in an instant.

I can’t tell you how tickled I was to see this perfect little swirl of steam, how beautiful it still is to me. I would never have seen it had I not taken a picture at that moment, and then later enlarged it. How many little hidden beauties are there out there that no one but the Lord ever sees? And what difference do they make?

I don’t know.

But I believe when we choose, word by word, prayer by prayer, hour by hour, to take the life and breath God graciously bestows on us each day and build with them, it matters.

Even if we’re building small.

Even if we’re building late.

Even if much of what we do is hidden or unappreciated, it matters to God.

Building lives, leaving legacies….

We may be adding to the beauty that sometimes only He sees, but that is enough.

What are you trying to do?

What am I trying to do?

It is my deepest prayer that even though my children and grandchildren may not inherit worldly riches from me, the Lord will help me leave them a legacy of riches in Christ. I do know that I haven’t been the finest display of His glory yet, but since I woke up this morning with my heart beating and my lungs still drawing breath, I take hope.

An online friend named Roberta sent this video to me, and I was delighted with it. Not only is it my kind of humor, but there is something oddly heartwarming about this video.

Apparently this is an American jazz band playing for a small herd of cows in France.

What do you think?

Back when I was in my twenties, I used to start playing Christmas records in October. I wanted the feel of this wondrous season to last a long time. 

I don’t play Christmas carols in October much anymore, but today I am decidedly in the mood for Christmas music. We have a fantastic stereo system that plays music all over our house, and I love it. There are ceiling speakers in the den, the living room, the kitchen, laundry room, the master bedroom, master bathroom, and on the landing of the third floor. So we can put six CDs on our stereo and play soft music all over the house for hours. There are controls for each speaker, so if you want the music to play in the kitchen but not in the master bath, no problem.

Anyway, it has always been our tradition to buy one new Christmas CD (and sometimes two) each year. We have a nice variety already, but I’d love to have your help in determining what we should get this year.

What is one of your favorite Christmas CDs? Or if you have more than one, please share as many as you like.

I can’t wait to see what you enjoy, and thanks ahead of time for helping us add to our collection!

We often put our Christmas tree up the day after Thanksgiving, but it will have to wait a few days, because today we have a house showing from 2:30-3:30. It’s time to scrub floors, dust, vacuum, actually make our bed, and swish toilets. We know our house will sell in God’s timing, but still we pray that today might be the day the next blessed owners will arrive on the scene.

We had a very nice Thanksgiving at Chris and Sharon’s house. They did a brined turkey and it was delicious. We all wrote what we were thankful for on small pieces of paper that were then tied to a hanging line of yarn. There is nothing better than decorating your home with gratitude.

Even though our tree won’t go up for a few days, Sara decorated our mantel in a new way this year. I call it The Full Mantel. Instead of a minimalist look, she loaded it with interesting things, and I love how it turned out. (Click to enlarge if you like.)

I think this year we might hang our stockings on the staircase.

Michael and I were remarking yesterday how one year ago today it was bitterly cold with already a foot of snow on the ground. Yesterday it was in the 40s and there’s almost a foot of dead leaves on the ground.

I hope your Thanksgiving was peaceful, and that you were reminded about many things to thank the Lord for.

And I thank you once again for stopping by my little blog!

Blessings,

From our home to yours, we wish you a blessed Thanksgiving….

Gratefully,

“There are three requisites to the proper enjoyment of earthly blessings: a thankful reflection on the goodness of the giver; a deep sense of our own unworthiness; and a recollection of the uncertainty of our long possessing them.

“The first will make us grateful; the second, humble; and the third, moderate.”

~Hannah More

*         *         *         *         *         *

Have you ever had a cyclamen plant? I love them. This one with white flowers sits on our kitchen table. Look at the delicate “Christmas tree” pattern in the leaves.

See how the buds are tightly twisted in spirals before they burst out in full bloom? (You can click to enlarge these photos if you like.)

Cyclamen blooms have always reminded me of praising God in difficult circumstances, what the Bible calls the sacrifice of praise. (see Hebrews 13:15)

To me, they look like beautiful old women who are bent over and cannot stand tall. You might say that cyclamens have a congenital defect that prevents them from ever standing upright.

Their flower faces must always bend down toward the ground. Cyclamens can’t be like other flowers, the kinds whose faces turn upward seeking the sun’s warmth and light.

But even though the cyclamen faces must be forever bent down, their upswept petals reach back and up toward the heavens, in their own silent and magnificent praise.

Because your love is better than life,
my lips will glorify you.

I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands. 

Psalm 63:3-4

Do you have any difficult circumstances in your life right now, the kind that seem to turn your face to the ground in sorrow or great concern? Everyone has something or someone that needs the touch of God.

Today I’m thinking of these exquisite cyclamens, who seem to offer up the sacrifice of praise to their Maker. I want to be like them.

Crunchy knees….that still walk.
Cold, gray weather….that makes the furnace a lavish gift.
Confused husband….who knows, hugs, and loves me still.
Crazy, bothersome Schnauzers….who teach us vigilance and devotion.
Comfort of the Holy Spirit….when the future looks uncertain.

Can you offer God the sacrifice of praise today? Would you be willing to share it with me?

In 1979, when I returned to the States after living in Germany for almost two years, I bought my first pair of German-made Birkenstocks. And I loved them. They were dark blue sandals with two thick suede straps. I couldn’t believe how they made my feet and legs feel, the comfort and ease they brought to walking and standing for long periods of time.

Six years later my sandals were finally worn out and I bought another pair. Navy blue again, but this time with three thinner, more feminine straps. The style is called “Florida.”

Every 5 1/2 – 6 years I’ve purchased a new pair of Birkies, and this week my sixth pair in 32 years arrived. Birkenstocks are expensive, but I don’t know many other brands of shoes that last for six years of daily wear.

Here’s what my current old pair looks like:

And here’s the new pair — both are Floridas, but alas, they no longer make the leather navy blue Birks I like in that style. So I reluctantly decided to get black.

So now the old pair will be the gardening pair, for all the gardening I never do. The new pair will support my bare feet in spring and summer, and my SmartWool stockinged feet in fall and winter.

When the snow gets deep then I’ll have to set my Birkies aside for a few months, and it’s always a sad day to do that. Today it’s 28 degrees out (minus 2 Celsius) and with socks, my trusty Birkenstocks are warm enough.

Have you ever had a pair of Birkenstocks? If so, what did you think?

Sitting here in my office a couple days ago, I saw a flash of black moving in the front yard. I grabbed my camera and here’s what it was…

…a black squirrel, hurriedly digging around in the leaves on the ground. I promptly named him Schwarz the Squirrel. Schwarz is the German word for black.

I’ve always heard that squirrels store nuts for the approaching winter, but I don’t know where Schwarz would be getting his little squirrel hands on any nuts in our yard. We have no nut trees here.

Oh.

Now I get it.

Schwarz’s GPS isn’t working! He’s looking in the wrong place for nuts. I need to go call to Schwarz and tell him if he’s looking for nuts, he needs to come a little closer to the house.

I don’t remember precisely when the realization came to me that God was bringing me low, but I have known this without a doubt for a few years now. If someone were to ask, “Julie, what is God doing in your life?” I think I would answer, “He’s bringing me low.” Not everyone would understand what I mean by that, and to be honest, I’m still learning myself. But I know it’s true, and good, and my very recent stay at Pacem in Terris solidified this in my heart and soul more than ever before.

While Pacem is a Catholic retreat center, about 70% of the visitors are not Catholic, so my Protestant self felt very welcome and at home there. I’ve been to Pacem three times now, and this visit was the most meaningful so far. Here is a post about last year’s visit, with lots of pictures.

This time I think it will take more than one blog post to do justice to what I felt the Lord spoke to my heart while I was there, and as I feel able, I will share soon about that here on the blog, if anyone is interested. 🙂

For now, I’ll share some pictures — you can click to enlarge them if you like. Here’s the hermitage I stayed in recently:

The little prayer hermitages at Pacem in Terris are named for saints, and mine was St. Mary Magdalene.

Mary Magdalene had apparently been a sinful woman before she met Jesus, opening the door in her life to the control of seven demons. When she met Christ, He set her free from all that evil, and the scriptures say she then followed Him. She also was the first one to see the resurrected Christ, the one who ran back to tell the discouraged disciples, “I have seen the Lord!”  I, too, would like to share her testimony. I would like to be able to say that Jesus set me free from all chains that bound me, that I followed Him closely out of pure love and gratitude, and that I somehow conveyed to anyone who would listen how wondrous are His ways, and that He was worth serving. I pray, Lord, that you help me cooperate with you in this….

Here’s the inside of my hermitage, the morning light streaming through the windows. There are sixteen of these little cabins at Pacem in Terris. They don’t have electricity or running water, but the Pacem staff provides jugs of fresh water for each hermit, and the gas wall heater keeps it cozy warm inside. Each time I’ve visited Pacem I’ve gone in the late fall. The trees in the oak and birch forest were almost bare and the nights were cold, but that only made me want to hunker down even more.

Below, the door to the left goes out onto the screened porch, and the door on the right is the front door. The cupboard is thoughtfully filled with anything that might be needed for a hermit’s stay: candles, matches, coffee and tea, cream and sugar, a flashlight and extra batteries, a rain poncho and a walking stick, extra linens and towels, a first aid and sewing kit, paper and pencils, utensils and paper plates, cups and glasses, cleaners and more.

This time I asked my dear friend Carey if she would consider going to Pacem with me. It was her first time there, and she’ll be sharing about it on her blog soon, I think. We drove the two hours’ south together and then briefly visited each others’ hermitages when we were first settling in. But since the retreats at Pacem are silent retreats, we didn’t see each other during the day at all. At night we walked the dark trails up to the main house, where the staff prepares dinner for anyone who asks. Conversation is welcome during that time.

Below is a photo of my faithful friend of 27 years. Carey’s cabin was called St. Teresa of Avila and was on the other side of the forest from mine.

When the Pacem staff drives you out to your hermitage, they leave you with a basket of victuals that seems simple on first glance, but becomes more delectable as the time passes. With no phone, no noise, no people plucking at your sleeve, nothing to do but sit in the silence and answer His invitation to “be still, and know that I am God,” soon things begin to change. New lenses get put in front of your eyes, and time slows down. A simple round loaf of whole wheat bread with a slice of cheddar cheese is a feast. A juicy Honeycrisp apple and a chunk of a muffin with dates and toasted walnuts on top is mouthwatering. Cold, clean water tastes like the nectar of Heaven.

The first day can be hard, but it’s worth it. It takes time to get accustomed to the silence. (Many people surprise themselves by sleeping several hours on their first day of silent retreat…the staff remind people that sleep is also a gift from God and hermits shouldn’t feel guilty about sleeping when they first get settled in.) The second day, for me, was amazing, and there was hardly enough time in the day to absorb all that it seemed the Lord wanted to speak to my heart.

In times past I’ve seen some leaping deer and a fox in the forest, but this time I saw only birds, and about ninety-three squirrels. Carey saw two deer in her part of the woods, and the last night we were there she heard a pack of coyotes howling in the distance.

I watched a female Downy Woodpecker on this tree outside my window:

After my first night there, I got up at dawn and sat in the rocking chair, looking out on the barren woods toward the small lake in the distance. I sipped Jasmine tea and stayed in my plaid flannel nightgown and Acorn slippers as long as I wanted. I read my Bible slowly and asked the Holy Spirit to help me hear His voice. I prayed. I listened.

There’s a gas burner in each hermitage, and making tea several times a day was so comforting and seemed like such a privilege.

In spite of photographic evidence to the contrary, this is a photo of a well-rested, comfortable, calm and hopeful woman:

At the end of the day, it gets dark in our part of the country very early now. By 5:00 p.m. it’s “peach black” out, as my granddaughter Vivienne used to say. I tried to read by candle light but it wasn’t bright enough. I didn’t feel like reading by flashlight. So by 7:00 p.m. I was ready for bed each night. I pulled the covers up to my neck and gave thanks for the warm, clean hermitage, the friends and family praying for me at home, and for a heavenly Father whose storehouses of mercy and grace are so huge they’re incomparable (see Ephesians 2:6-8). I thanked God for not giving up on me after all my wandering, and tepid living.

This printed prayer was sitting on the little table next to the rocking chair in my hermitage, and I prayed it out loud and with my whole heart:

Almighty and eternal God,
Creator of the heavens and the earth
and Creator of me,
I praise your holy presence.

Thank you for calling me to come and
be alone with you in the silence of this hermitage,
that I might know your love and hear your word.

Have mercy on me, O God, for I have sinned.
I repent and ask you to forgive me for all the ways
I have failed to love you, my neighbor, and myself.

Through the redeeming love and sacrifice
of Jesus, your Son, hear my prayer
and open my heart to receive your gift
of healing and forgiveness.
Help me to offer love and forgiveness
to all those who have sinned against me.

By the power of your Holy Spirit,
lead me to your truth and set me free
from all the snares of the evil one.
Let me know your will and grant me the
courage and strength to embrace it everyday.

Lord, fill me with the joy of your presence,
as I live in gratitude for the wonders of your love.
Grant me the grace to love and serve you in this life–
and to live with you forever in heaven.

All glory be to you, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
now and forever.

Amen. Alleluia!

Now that you’ve read it, you might like to go back and pray it, saying it out loud or in your heart, asking for God to do the impossible in you, just as I ask for Him to do the impossible in me.

That’s one of the reasons I went again to Pacem in Terris.

To ask God to do the impossible.

He’s the only one who can.

Do you have something in your life that’s impossible to overcome, impossible to fix, impossible to deal with? Don’t we all? Here’s what Jesus says about our impossibilities:

“Jesus looked at them and said, ‘With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.'”

Even if your impossible is the most impossible on earth, it’s not too impossible for God.

Don’t give up. God wants to prove Himself mighty in your life. I would never lie to you about this. You don’t have to go on a silent retreat to connect with Him. Right now, sitting at your computer, reading from your iPhone or iPad, you could whisper….

“Jesus, please help me.”