Just Heavenly!

Posted on June 27, 2011 by Margaret

When I was a little girl, Mom forced my sister, brother and I to take piano lessons, just like most young children. I remember quite a few skirmishes with me on the piano bench refusing to practice and Mom in the kitchen saying, “You’re not getting off that bench till I hear you play!”

By 5^th grade, I begged to go another musical route: the violin. If Mom would just let me take violin lessons, I’d practice without arguing. Really! Every day!

She didn’t give in until 7^th grade. The junior high school had an orchestra, so she negotiated with me. “If you’ll join the orchestra and practice like you say, then OK.”

Poor Mom. She sprung for a violin and hauled me to Evanston every week for a 30 minute lesson, but fairly quickly the practice problem resurfaced. In the end, after two years of lessons and more conflicts than Mom could stand, she sold my violin out from under me announcing, “You’re done.”

But not quite. When Birgitta turned 4, she began begging to learn the violin. I ducked her pleas for quite a while, but when her best friend Ellen began begging her mom, too, we compromised by letting the girls split lessons, 15 minutes each.

I wasn’t prepared when my childhood longing to play the violin engulfed me once again. I rented a violin and took lessons by auditing Birgitta’s lessons. I practiced faithfully for nearly a year, performing a duet with my daughter in the family Christmas program. But she quickly left me behind in her abilities, and once again it became difficult to practice. (Surprise, surprise.)

I didn’t re-rent the violin and haven’t played since. Birgitta, on the other hand, studied for 10 years, wowing us all with her beautiful music. Ellen is still playing.

Yesterday in church we were treated to a performance by a trio of sisters, a pianist, a cellist and a violinist. As they played “To God Be the Glory” with flourish and force, my love for the violin surfaced immediately. I closed my eyes, longing to climb right into the music. Oh, how I wished it wouldn’t end.

Later they played “How Great Thou Art” with the same incredible style, the violinist’s shoulders dipping in commitment to the music, her ponytail swinging. Something deep in my soul responded not just to the violin music but to the Lord, and I started to cry. Wanting to breathe in the notes, I ached to make them mine. The craving was intense, unexplainable in words.

But God understood perfectly and let me know. He whispered, “This is what heaven will be like for you.”

And it took my breath away.

Now I know why I never stuck with practicing. No matter how hard I tried, I knew it would never sound like that. But some day…

“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.” (Psalm 42:1)

Party Surprises

Posted on June 26, 2011 by Margaret

Widowhood brings many firsts, some excruciating, some not-so-bad, and some very good. Today I experienced a good one.

I’ve been so glad the house refurbishing is finished and everything nearly back in place that I decided to throw a celebratory party – for one. And what better place than the beach?

Pulling on my 8 year old bathing suit, I made the mistake of glancing in the mirror. Although I couldn’t do much about the ravages of time, I could do something about the winter-white skin. Digging under the bathroom sink, I found some “Sublime Bronze Tinted Self-Tanning Lotion,” a little tube of cream that promised exactly what I wanted:

“A soft, smooth, 100% natural-looking sunless tan in less than an hour.”

Squeezing a generous dollop into my palm, I got my first surprise when it came out as dark as a piece of Fanny May chocolate. Although I’ve never liked being pasty white, I didn’t think I could pull off “swarthy”.

Nevertheless, I smeared it all over, hoping for the best, then set to planning the party refreshments: a baggie of cantaloupe, a Nutri-grain bar, a bag of pretzels and a Coke Zero. Although Jack would’ve been a welcome guest, summertime beach rules discourage daytime doggie attendance. Besides, heavy black fur and hot sunshine aren’t a happy combination. Jack understood and found a cool napping spot on the new slate tile.

Climbing onto Birgitta’s 7^th grade bike, I headed for my party at the shore, backpack full of reading and writing material, and the refreshments.

God apparently knew about the celebration ahead of time, because when I got there, he was ready with a second surprise. After pulling off my beach cover-up, my 65 year old body began sparkling like a convention of lightning bugs. Apparently the self-tanner had been laced with glitter, and it was all over me.

Always hoping to go unnoticed when in a swimming suit, today my time-worn skin made a noisy announcement as the sun bounced off every inch of me: “Look at my body! Look at my body!”

Although I hadn’t planned on an immediate swim, the chilly June water didn’t discourage me, and in I went, rubbing at the glitter with gusto. After that, the party went as planned, a lovely festivity for one.

God and I enjoyed the entertainment together, a long, uninterrupted conversation. And I got to eat all the food myself, sit in the best beach chair, and nap on my favorite towel. Several hours flew by, and when I arrived home, Jack was excited to hear all about it. I made sure to tell him that not all widow-firsts are negative.

Thanks to the Lord’s involvement, some are downright hilarious.

“A cheerful heart is good medicine.” (Proverbs 17:22)

Thank you, Drew.

Posted on June 26, 2011 by Margaret

Today when Drew came over, it was to finish the last couple of things on my home improvement list. I’ve loved his daily cheerful arrival and have enjoyed listening to him sing along with the country music he loves. (To Drew’s credit, he’s learned to appreciate Michael Buble’, too.) I’ll miss him!

One of his last endeavors was to finish a bit of stone artwork the two of us came up with together. It’s a door mat made of beach stones set in front of our “door to nowhere” (which will one day lead to an outdoor deck). Drew filled the mat space with mortar, and I filled it with my favorite stones. After the mortar dried he sealed it, and we’ll all be stepping on it for years to come.

The mat has a special feature, a larger rock set amongst the smaller ones with my favorite “footsteps” Scripture on it. Drew’s cousin offered to try his laser etching machine on carving the verse directly into a rock, which turned out to be a tricky task, but it turned out great.

Some people think I have rocks in my head for all the beach stones at my house. They’re glued around picture and mirror frames, candles and clocks. My sister’s Scripture rocks are on my desk, and I have multi-colored rocks in a decorative bowl. That doesn’t count the 4 long shelves of rocks stored in my basement.

And God made them all. Since he frequently refers to himself as The Rock, I figure it’s ok.

Rocks factor into quite a few Bible stories, too. The patriarchs often stacked stones to make an altar upon which to make a sacrifice to God after something spectacular had happened. Later God instructed Joshua to stack 12 stones in the middle of the Jordan River as tens of thousands of people passed through it on dry land (much like the Red Sea). God says those 12 stones are still there today. (Joshua 4:9)

He also told them to stack 12 stones at their very first campsite in the Promised Land, telling the people that when their children asked about their significance, they were to tell the story of God drying up the Jordan for them to cross over, a picture of his power.

Even the priests put something called “stones of remembrance” on the shoulder straps of their apron-like ephods. Then as they entered the temple to seek forgiveness of sins, the 12 tribes were represented, their names engraved on the stones.

David appreciated rocks, too, killing a giant with one carefully selected smooth stone. And Jacob had his head on a rock-pillow the night he dreamed of the ladder to heaven.

My humble door mat won’t have as grand a use as any of these biblical examples, but everyone who walks on it will be reminded that God can keep us from anything that threatens to ruin us, if we’ll just trust our footsteps to him. (Psalm 119:133)