When Life Gives You Lemons ... or Lemon-Colored Lockers

I keep thinking about these bright yellow lockers.

Kinley started second grade at a new school in a new town last week. And, truth be told, she was pretty nervous about the whole thing.

She had bosom buddies at her old school. She knew where the lunch room was. She knew how many books she could check out of the school library at one time and where her favorite authors were located. The old school was familiar, like a snugly blanket wrapped around you as you drift off to sleep.

This girl who has always loved school was not nearly as excited to go to a new place with new classmates and new teachers and new surroundings.

But the day before classes began, they went to meet-the-teacher night at her new school. And she found out she had her name on one of these bright-yellow-as-a-school-bus-colored lockers. All of the sudden, this new place looked exciting, rather than scary. She discovered that she'd share the locker with Natalie, who was also new to the school.

Everything was going to be OK. (Jill said she has never been more thankful for lockers in her life.)

Among Kinley's artwork was the pink heart with stars around it.

At church the Sunday before school started, Pastor Andrew blessed the students' backpacks and each received a tag to help them remember that God is with them always - at church, at home and, yes, at school, too.

After children's time, the kids departed for Sunday School, and Kinley and her classmates drew chalk messages on the sidewalk in front of the church.When we adults came out from the worship service, we were greeted with rainbows and LOVE and an exhortation to "Be Happy."

 One drawing reminded us to "Let the light shine!"

Shining seems a lot easier when you're in comfortable surroundings, among people you know and circumstances you understand. But, despite our gravitating toward the familiar and the comparatively easy path, life bombards us with change.

And we change-averse humans - like Kinley ... and, yes, Kinley's Grandma Kim - dread our shift in circumstances. Given the chance, we'd avoid that change and all the accompanying discomfort it brings if only we could.

And yet, stormy skies always yield the most dramatic and beautiful sunrises and sunsets. There can be beauty in change and in storms, if we shift our attitudes. (Yes, I'm preaching to a choir of one - me!)

Life often brings us to stormy crossroads. So this Message from God in my email devotional really struck me:

On this day, God wants you to know
that change is the very nature of life. 
Welcome it! No glass ever became sand again.
No bread ever became wheat.

No ripened fruit ever became a flower again.

Welcome change, and choose what kind of glass you create, 

what kind of bread you bake, 

what kind of fruit you harvest.

And when changes in life make you feel like you're sucking on sour lemons, make lemonade ... or at least find some bright yellow lockers (or sun-soaked sunflowers) and find a reason to smile.

Transfigured

The Grand Tetons

trans·fig·u·ra·tion

1. a. A marked change in form or appearance; a metamorphosis.

b. A change that glorifies or exalts.

As I walk on our country roads, I don't see Jesus appear in dazzling bright light. But it doesn't mean I can't find Him.

We celebrated Transfiguration Sunday yesterday at Stafford United Methodist Church. Pastor Amy read for us the Bible story as, on a high mountain north of Galilee, Jesus experienced a metamorphosis before the startled eyes of three disciples, Peter, James and John (Luke 9: 28-36). This was a spectacular change of His visible form. We call this experience His transfiguration, but, literally, in the original language, it is "metamorphosis."

Maybe sometimes I need to be awakened in lightning-bolt fashion. However, I do find Christ in His glorious creation, if I just open my eyes.

A keyhole frame formed by an old tree looks much different in February ...

... than it did in October. 

The vibrant colors of fall are replaced now by the stark outline of bare branches that decorate a bright blue winter sky.

When Jesus was transfigured into shining glory and he was joined by Moses and Elijah, it again unveiled what had been the truth all along: Jesus was the Son of God.

Peter was so moved that he wanted to build shrines on the mountain for Jesus, Elijah and Moses and just stay there to worship. Jesus pointed out that it wasn't the plan. The dazzling light and the glory were temporary. Jesus quickly changed back to His earthly appearance. He began a lonely journey to the cross for His disciples. And the journey was also for you and for me.

Life isn't always a Disney movie in technicolor beauty.

The Grand Tetons

While we celebrate the mountaintop experiences, that's not typically where the work happens.

The work happens in the valleys, in the trenches. We have to climb down from the mountain and get to work. As Pastor Amy said:

"Just because understanding Jesus’ identity and believing in him is enough for our own personal salvation, we can’t be content to stay there. We must be willing to follow Christ’s footsteps down the mountain and help him accomplish his mission."

Pastor Amy Slater, Stafford UMC

Later this week, on Ash Wednesday, the Lenten season begins. All around us, we see things that change.

 

Caterpillars transform to butterflies.

Seeds become flowers. These trees will soon begin budding green, and the keyhole frame along my walk will again be transformed and change the scenery again.

As we learn more about Jesus, a change happens in us, too. Maybe butterflies aren't the only creatures who can transform.

We enter Lent not with a sense of heaviness and dread about "what we may give up" or the challenges we may be asked to face. ... Instead, we enter this solemn (Lenten) season graced to expect the Father, Son and Holy Spirit may "blow our minds" and ignite our hearts as we seek to follow the One who leads through death to eternal life.

From the United Methodist Church's General Board of Discipleship

***

I'm linked today to Michelle DeRusha's, Hear It on Sunday, Use It On Monday. (She writes about the transfiguration today, too!) Click on the link to see what other bloggers of faith are saying today.

Roots and Wings

If Facebook is any barometer, it was graduation weekend for lots of families. I personally know people who collected their bachelor's degrees, master's degrees and even one who wrapped up a doctorate.

Next weekend, more high school graduates will walk across the stage, collect their diplomas and run headlong into the next phase of their lives.

Good parents give their children roots and wings
- roots to know where home is,
and wings to fly away and exercise what's been taught them.

-Jonas Salk

On Mother's Day weekend, we visited Jill and Eric in Omaha. As always, it was fun be together and to see where our "little girl" is putting down roots and building a new life with a pretty great guy.

The broken big toe slowed me down a bit, but it wasn't something that a heating pad couldn't solve.

I will have to say that we didn't get our money's worth at the Henry Doorly Zoo because of my temporary handicap. But we did get to go in one of my favorite exhibits, the Butterfly House. My family's gift for me on Mother's Day? Their patience and their quest to be the best butterfly scouts in the place.

"We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty."
- Maya Angelou

Life changes. Little girls grow up. Little boys move away and pursue their own dreams. It's quite a journey. As babies, they reflexively grasp your fingers in their tiny hands. And the letting go begins in increments ... even as early as they quit holding on to your outstretched hands and awkwardly toddle away.

It requires some scraped knees, broken hearts, teenage angst and a little healthy rebellion. It's all part of the journey. And that's a beautiful thing.

From Limestone to Brick

We're used to limestone. They have brick.

We're used to the Wabash Cannonball. They hold up a toast to their school and proclaim, "Here's a health, Carolina, forever to thee!"

We are used to the oaks and elms of Kansas. They have those, too, but have added the palmettos and magnolias of the south.


Our trip to the University of South Carolina campus may not have been "home" for us. But it did give this Mom some visual snapshots of where Brent will be spending the next year and a half.

I like being able to picture my kids in their surroundings. I know Jill thought it was silly when we wanted to see the retirement home where she's the dietitian and food service manager. But I like being able to "see" her in my mind's eye when she is talking about work and the residents she loves.

Same goes for Brent's new home. Randy and I spent some time walking around the campus one morning when Brent had meetings with his adviser.

K-State was founded in 1863. The University of South Carolina is old enough to be K-State's grandpa!

USC was founded in 1801, one of the oldest public universities in the U.S. The Graduate School, where Brent will get his master's in sports administration, is one of the nation's 10 largest grad schools. Most of his classes will be in the Carolina Coliseum, the former home to the Gamecocks basketball team.

My favorite part of the campus was The Horseshoe, a part of the original campus. Within its four city blocks, stand 10 buildings from the early 19th century. In 1801, Thomas Jefferson was the newly inaugurated U.S. president and Robert Fulton was experimenting with the steamboat.

We walked down the brick pathways that students have been traversing for 210 years.


And even though it wasn't "our" home, we still felt "at" home. And that made all the difference.

A New Chapter

I watched Brent drive away one night last week. He was going back to Manhattan.

That isn't anything new. Since he graduated from high school in 2006, he's driven away from his childhood home many times.

But this time was different. This time, he was starting the first leg of a journey that would take him beyond the familiar landmarks of the County Line and Manhattan and on to a new adventure.

On January 10, Brent will begin working on his master's degree in sports administration at the University of South Carolina in Columbia. It's a 19-hour drive from Manhattan, but it seems lightyears away for his mother.

On New Year's Eve, we loaded a dresser and night table from his childhood bedroom into the U-Haul. We added the TV stand he'd made in high school shop class and a few other boxes. On January 2, we went to Manhattan to load his possessions from his house there. Then we took off for South Carolina.

But it was his driving away from the County Line earlier in the week that caused tears to flood my eyes.

When I hugged him, he knew I was struggling with the moment.

"It's not like I haven't left before," my practical guy told me.

No, I admitted to him. But it's different this time. Instead of seeing a fully-grown man taking off into his future, I was seeing that little guy with the K-State backpack, ready to begin another year of school. But this time, he wasn't boarding a school bus. He was taking off for an unfamiliar life, halfway across the country.

Before he left, he went outside to say goodbye to Ralph, his dog.

"I'm going outside to hug my puppy," he told me. Well, Ralph hasn't been a puppy for years and the black coat of his youth is now speckled with gray.

So maybe, just maybe, my big guy was thinking just a little bit about the past, too.

He drove away after dark. That's nothing new either. My night owl is at his best in the twilight hours. As his headlights disappeared from view when he passed the northern shelterbelt, I looked up at the sky.

Yes, it will be different not having either of my "babies" living in their home state. But the same sky and stars that blanket a winter night in Kansas will be twinkling in South Carolina. They shine above Jill in Nebraska.

So when I look up at the sky, I know those same stars are shining down on them. They may be in a different position in the sky.


But they will be twinkling nonetheless.

Message from God

Message from God (via Facebook)

On this day, God wants you to know ...
that change is the very nature of life. Welcome it!

This message was on a Facebook friend's profile. And it was almost like the heavens cracked open, lightning struck and the voice of God was talking to me.

You see, I'm not so fond of change. I never have been.

Yet I know change is inevitable. And often the changes I dread the most are the ones that bring new joy to my life.

Even as a kid, I had trouble with change. My first private voice teacher was a lovely lady. Her name was Mrs. Dillinger. I even remember the first song she ever had me sing for her. It was Tammy: "I hear the cottonwood whistling above, Tammy, Tammy, Tammy's in love."

I think it was from a television show. It wasn't exactly a Puccini aria.

I loved to sing. I loved private voice lessons. I loved Mrs. Dillinger. So when she moved, I thought it would be the end of my singing career. There could be no one like Mrs. Dillinger.

And there wasn't. There was even better.

The same goes for our move from the little Byers United Methodist Church to the big Pratt United Methodist Church. I'd been going to Byers from the time my parents carried me through the doors as a newborn.

I knew nothing about the church in Pratt, other than it was BIG and it was that place where the steeple stood taller than practically anything else in town. Who would I know? How would I know the routine? Who would care about me?

But my parents decided it was a change we were going to make as a family. And, again, it turned out to be even better. I had a Sunday School class with kids my own age. I had a Sunday School teacher who still cares about me and my family today. I got to sing in the chancel choir. It was the place where I became Mrs. Randy Fritzemeier, another big - but wonderful - change in my life.

Like the Facebook message said: Change is the very nature of life.

However, I must be a slow learner. I still drag my heels with change.

I think part of the reluctance is because I don't want to make a "wrong" or "bad" decision. Big or small, it doesn't seem to matter.

Last week, I had to buy a new recliner. That should be good news, right? But it took 10 years to break in the old one. It fit me just right. Plus, I wasn't replacing all the furniture in the living room. So what if it doesn't look good now? What if I need to replace the rest of the furniture at some point and I can't find something to "match?"

Sure, there was that little problem with not being able to put the footrest up or down. So change was forced upon me.

I've had it less than a week, and it's already starting to feel like home, even though I haven't had much time to sit in it.

My camera battery is dying. But this camera has been good to me. Will a new camera give me the color I want? Will it give me the close-up quality I've had in this old Kodak Easy Share that I got in 2006 on a WalMart sale table? (And, yes, I was one of those holdouts who was reluctant to part with my good film camera. There's that whole change issue rearing its ugly head again! But would I go back now? Not a chance!)

To complicate this decision-challenged, change-phobic life even further, now you can research all the options on the internet. The internet is great, and I love being able to type "Top 10 point and shoot digital cameras" into a search engine. BUT ... then there is a confusing avalanche of options. Who do I listen to? What should I do? Most importantly, WHAT IF I MAKE THE WRONG CHOICE? (By the way, if you have a personal recommendation about a good camera, please let me know!)

So, this Message from God really struck me:

On this day, God wants you to know ...
that change is the very nature of life. Welcome it!

No glass ever became sand again.


No bread ever became wheat.

No ripened fruit ever became a flower.

Welcome change, and choose what kind of glass you create, what kind of bread you bake, what kind of fruit you harvest.

Hoping you have a good day - whether it's a routine day or filled with change.

Blink

As a parent, you may not see your kids change that quickly.

You see them at the breakfast table every day. You help cram the homework in their backpacks before they race out the door. You holler at them to pick up their stuff ... right now!

But you don't see the day-to-day changes. You don't realize that they've grown an inch in the past couple of months. You don't realize that one day, you don't have to yell at them to pick up their stuff ... well, maybe that one never happens.

I do think we are more apt to notice the differences from the outside looking in. It's when you see that 4-Her from across the county who seems to have grown a foot from last year's fair to this year's version. You see the junior high girl from just down the road who - seemingly overnight - is no longer a freckle-faced little girl but a makeup-wearing, hair-just-so young lady.

It's been that way with the milo crop, too. I have zipped by it on the way to and from the fair. Sure, it's been green over there in my peripheral vision. But sometime, when I wasn't looking, it grew a foot.

I took this photo of the milo on July 9.


Then on July 18, less than 10 days later, it had grown by leaps and bounds.

That's what a little bit of rain will do for you.

I know that some Kansas farmers got more rain than they needed at one time last week. My folks had 4.3 inches all at once in one location, and no less than 1.8 inches throughout their farm's fields. The Macksville farmers at the fair were talking about some fields flooding with their 3.5-plus inches of rain.

But, right here at home, we got just a half inch of moisture. And the milo took a deep drink and grew ... and grew some more.

The weatherman says it will be a week of temperatures hovering around the century mark. There's no rain in sight on the extended forecast. So the milo may change again with some heat stress - and not for the better this time.

You blink, and things change ... whether you're talking a milo crop or a child who is there at home one minute. And you turn around, and they are all grown up.

Life happens ... whether we're looking or not.