Nancy

Stairway to Heaven

July 26, 2018 by Nancy 16 Comments

I’ve climbed the beautiful, spiral staircase at the assisted living community where I volunteer many times without thinking of it as the stairway to heaven. But for some reason, today as I climbed from the first floor with its lovely entryway, library and dining room, to the second floor with the activity room where we have The Hope of Glory Bible study, that’s exactly what came to mind.

Maybe my long-term memory was activated by being in the presence of those older than I who cherish this intact part of their brains, and I was reminded of the prom theme we had my junior year in high school. Two by two couples lined up for the coveted prom photo. Girls in long satin dresses boasting wrist corsages leaned in to boys in brown suits sporting their father’s ties. Behind each couple was the backdrop the prom committee painted on butcher paper of a long spiral staircase. Glittery letters at the top read, “Stairway to Heaven.”

Of course, our idea of heaven in the Sixties was a really hot date and getting to stay out later than usual to go to the after parties, or the less sanctioned parties held on the banks of a Tennessee lake. Gratefully, it’s not this temporal, somewhat carnal, concept of heaven that I show up to talk about to the assisted living residents. Rather it’s the gospel truth that we won’t have to climb the 21 steps I counted today to get to heaven, or even take the optional elevator! It’s the message that there’s only one step needed, belief in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

Most of the residents at this facility, lovely as it is, are there because they need help of some kind—either due to physical impairment or loss of mental acuity. Although they don’t dwell on this fact, the blessed among them realize that their next destination is heaven. Together we explore how this late season of life in which they find themselves is still life, and that God has a purpose for them as long as they have breath. Then they will enjoy eternal life with Him!

It could be because I’ve been to two memorial services within a week that I’m reflecting on heaven now. Both were for women who lived long, full lives, leaving behind memories of stories told, quilts made, meals served, grandchildren cherished, and husbands adored. Hearing about their lives, and their strong Christian faith shared through generations, makes every remaining minute of my life seem more valuable to me somehow—more primed with possibility. They ran their races well, leaving me with a longing to make any time I have left count for something—especially for those things that are small in the eyes of the world, but large in the eyes of heaven.

In my book, Take My Hand Again, I talk about how hard it was to say goodbye to the assisted living residents I came to love through our time in Bible study, and today I was reminded that I’m still vulnerable to that kind of heartache. And I’m not alone. I just finished the engaging book A Dog Walks into a Nursing Home by Sue Halpern, who also grew fond of the residents she took her dog, Pransky, to visit each week. The author recalls standing at a distance at the graveside service of a friend and resident named Fran because she had the lovable labradoodle with her. She stood amazed as she saw all the people who gathered to honor the woman she and Pransky had only come to know and love in her last years. They had no idea how many lives Fran’s had touched, they only knew she had touched theirs.

Love hurts, but it’s always worth it. And there’s this stairway to heaven, where the loss and pain of aging is no more! There we will celebrate together all the love we’ve received, and all the love we’ve given away.

The Hope of Glory, A Devotional Guide for Older Adults, and Take My Hand Again, A Faith-based Guide for Helping Older Parents, are both available on Amazon.com.

Strike Up the Band!

June 17, 2018 by Nancy 15 Comments

Whenever I see a field of yucca plants in bloom this time of year it always reminds me of a marching band, each member stepping out in a tall hat with a plume on the front. Yucca plants thrive in dry climates and are drought-resistant, so unlike the wildflowers that would have preferred a rainier May, they are in their glory now in Colorado. Walking through Rampart Park near my house is like being at a band festival, with competing groups marching in every direction!

Yet on these competition fields a smattering of wildflowers has dared to pop up. Three years ago when we moved to our neighborhood we had experienced a very wet spring, and the fields of wildflowers were breathtaking. This year I’m delighted with the occasional Indian paintbrush, cinquefoil, or wild penstemon.

I know physical trainers advise clients to vary their workout routines, and many people besides Robert Frost extol the road less traveled, yet I think there is something to be said for taking the same walk through all seasons year after year. Doing so establishes a rhythm to our life on earth—and the heavenly delights we encounter along the way will always vary.

Now that summer is in full bloom, my almost daily walks through Rampart Park provide both the stability of the familiar route and the excitement of change. Which dogs will be at the dog park today, and will the dachshund and the German shepherd get along better today than yesterday? Has the black-tailed weasel returned to his hole by the sidewalk?

Baby rabbits hop away from my footsteps in every direction, pausing at the edge of their thickets as if daring me to see them before they dart inside. I love that they have a safe place to abide when the dogs come by (sadly some not leashed by their owners), and I’m reminded of John 15:5 where we are encouraged to abide in Christ and trust only in Him for our safety.

As I walk I can gaze across the valley to a neighborhood on the mountainside where I know a family I dearly love is stirring and getting ready for their day, and I send a prayer their way. I can check out the snow melt on Pikes Peak and watch for approaching storms. I can greet the neighbors and strangers I meet and exchange pleasantries to brighten my day and theirs.

But most of all, as I walk I can praise God for the glorious creation around me, and for my physical ability to walk through it and enjoy it. I promise Him I will never take my walks for granted, because I know too many people unable to enjoy such simple satisfaction. Maybe I stick to the same route, but every walk is different. And I am grateful. Strike up the band!

Like several bloggers I follow, I’m slowing my pace this summer. I’m hoping for one post a month, with a promise to step it up in the fall.

Makin’ Our Way to Waco!

May 27, 2018 by Nancy 9 Comments

My friend Kathy and I loaded up and took off on a five-day road trip from Colorado Springs, CO, to Waco, TX. Fans of the HGTV show, Fixer Upper, we wanted to see for ourselves the silos, the suspension bridge, and the rolling green fields featured on TV.

We knew we liked the show, and thought its stars Chip and Joanna Gaines were just the greatest, but we weren’t at all prepared for our reaction the first time those silos came in to view. Parking in the lot by the astoundingly beautiful and historic First Baptist Church of Waco, we were like giddy school girls as we climbed out of the car.

Of course we wanted to shop at Magnolia Market, made famous by founders Chip and Joanna. Everyone had warned us the line to get in would wind around the block, but we arrived when the store first opened on a weekday and walked right in. Oh my! Beautifully merchandised shelves of enticing candles, mugs, and decorator items filled our senses, much like walking on to any set of Fixer Upper. If you love Joanna’s design style, this is heaven.

The temptation to buy at least one of everything was quelled when we looked at the prices however. So rather than buy the artificial magnolias for sale we took photos of the real magnolias in bloom all over town and inhaled their intoxicating aroma–a delightful pleasure for free!

We did wait in line at Silos Baking Co. for some of their acclaimed cupcakes and biscuits, but enjoyed visiting with other fans of the show while we waited. The next day we ate breakfast at Magnolia Table—a remodel of the old Elite Café where Elvis frequently ate when he was stationed at Fort Hood, TX. Treating ourselves to huge breakfasts that included French toast or pancakes and Texas Pecan coffee, we agreed the time we had to wait was definitely worth it—as was every calorie. And of course we shopped the attached gift shop until our spot at one of the community tables opened up.

So basically we did everything on offer from Chip and Joanna and their growing brand, Magnolia. We were delighted with our experiences, just as we’d expected, so no surprise there. What did surprise us was how much we fell in love with Waco itself.

Super model turned entrepreneur David Ridley established Waco-tours.com with friends, and no visit to Waco would be complete without climbing on to one of their air-conditioned Mercedes vans and letting a well-informed, entertaining guide tell you the rest of the story about Waco. Yes, we drove by some of the homes featured on different episodes of Fixer Upper (and some of the women in our van could cite season and episode for each one!), including the home and workshop of Clint Harp of Harp Design. (Fans of the show know he’s the one who builds beautiful tables for Joanna after she walks into his workshop with a big, “Hey, Clint!”) But we also drove by Lake Waco, through the impressive campus of Baylor University, and saw the confluence of the Brazos and Bosque rivers from lush Cameron Park.

Our guide entertained us with the legend of the park’s Lover’s Leap, where a young Native American couple are said to have jumped to their deaths just to be together forever. Once back on the bus, he led us in singing the similarly themed hit from the ‘60’s, “Running Bear,” complete with hand motions. Pure fun.

There’s so much authentic American history in Waco, and Kathy and I were impressed with how clean and well-kept the city was, as were the roadways we drove throughout Texas. We didn’t have time to visit the Dr. Pepper Museum (Dr. Pepper was invented in Waco!) or the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum, but overall it was a fantastic trip. Think about makin’ your way to Waco for all things Magnolia…and more!

My Beau

April 25, 2018 by Nancy 24 Comments

He had me at hello. From the moment I took him out of the cage at the adoption center at PetSmart and he wrapped his front paws around my neck and snuggled his head under my chin, I knew he was my cat. What I didn’t know was that he was a one-woman cat, and I would be his woman.

At PetSmart his name was Jellybean, but that just didn’t seem to fit. I had gone cat shopping because I read an article that a solo cat might become depressed. I’d looked over at our cat, Molly, and assessed she was. What she needed was a beau! So Jellybean became Beau Brummett.

As it turned out, the two cats never really bonded, and truth be told, Beau bullied Molly a bit. But for 13 years they enjoyed one another’s company from a distance, established their own rules about whose couch was whose, and had a workable détente.

We had to let go of Beau three weeks ago, and I’m just now able to write about him. It’s been a heartbreaking loss, not just because I loved him, but because he loved me so completely and so unconditionally, and there was nothing I could do to save him. The third round of cancer was too much for all of us. He was only fourteen and a half so it seemed too soon to see him go, yet it was time.

This won’t be one of those tributes touting perfection, however. Beau’s biggest character flaw was that he was afraid of small children, possibly the victim of being carried around in a neck hold by a toddler before we adopted him. As a result, he was labeled “the mean cat” by all of our grandkids because if he couldn’t avoid them, he hissed at them. I know their parents wondered why we kept him around.

We did because of who he was the rest of time. Part Maine Coon, Beau came when called, was trainable, and loyal beyond description. He was the most excellent of cats in terms of his cat-like characteristics. Curious to a fault, he got shut up in the pantry more than once while checking out the supply of cat food. He would be the first to jump into an empty box and found Christmas boxes especially fascinating.

And he was a quick learner. Just one leap off the second-story deck in an attempt to catch a hummingbird and he decided not to do that again!

He was the most affectionate animal I’ve ever been around. Often he would come up to me and put his front paws on my legs, look up at me with those big golden eyes, and want me to pick him up. I was putty in his paws, so most of the time when I was home he was in my arms, perched over my shoulder, or on my lap—even when I was at the computer.

We had two official snuggle times, right before my husband Jim and I went to sleep and first thing in the morning. He never missed one of them, and usually waited in the hallway from about 9:30 PM on to remind me it was time to go snuggle. Any wonder my arms have felt achingly empty? (Jim reminds me that he is willing to snuggle any time, but apologizes for not being fuzzy enough!)

I don’t know what else to say. I miss him. It hurts. I’ve always been sensitive to the grief people feel when losing a pet, but will be even more so now. I don’t want to compare this in any way to the deeper grief of losing a family member or close friend, but I did lose a close and loving companion. No doubt about it.

I’ve cried my way through three PetSmarts and the Humane Society where I went just to visit the cats. I don’t know why. There isn’t a cat alive who could replace Beau, and I know that. Besides it’s too soon to even try to love another cat. Somehow I just had to look.

And while Molly won’t snuggle (please! she just can’t be bothered) her “personal assistant” purr-sonality has her following me all over the house, and she is blossoming now that the whole house is hers. We love her, too, and she deserves to be queen for a while.

When I was praying over Beau for healing, and yes I did, I heard the Lord remind me, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” To comfort me in my grief, He’s whispered, “Think of what a great gift he was to you, not what a great loss you feel now.” OK, Lord, I’ll try. But he was my buddy. My Beau.

To those readers who think they don’t like cats, may I say it’s just like any other bias. Get to know just one well, and you will change your opinion.

Carol, Agnes, and the Love of Purses

April 21, 2018 by Nancy 14 Comments

Once again I’m pleased to feature fellow LPC author Carol G. Heilman in my “Take My Hand Again” blog. Carol has written two books about the antics of Agnes Hopper, an assisted living resident who gets into all sorts of scrapes and situations. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting Agnes in Agnes Hopper Shakes Up Sweetbriar and look forward to catching up with her in Agnes Bets on Murder. (Find both at Amazon.com.) Meet Carol, and then enjoy her blog post about Agnes and her love of purses!

Meet Carol
Carol Heilman, a coal miner’s daughter, married her high school sweetheart, a farmer’s son. She began writing family stories, especially about her dad’s Appalachian humor, for newspapers and magazines. One day her mother said, “We don’t have any secrets anymore!” Her book series on Agnes Hopper (see above) was inspired by her mother’s spunky spirit and her dad’s humor. She has recently moved, along with her husband of fifty-plus years, from the mountains of NC to Charleston, SC. They love to play cards, go antiquing, hike, and visit grandsons on the east and west coasts.

The Love of Purses
Pocketbooks, handbags, purses–whatever you call them, they are essential items in most women’s wardrobes.

I have a collection of old ones that I hold dear. The largest tapestry one, as well as the tiny beaded one, belonged to my great grandmother. Mother’s oldest sister carried the soft black purse. I found the black one with the silver handle in an antique shop.

Agnes Marie Hopper, the main character in my books, also loves purses. She found her favorite, a red-leather one soft as a baby’s behind, in a garage sale. She carries it everywhere, even to the retirement home’s front porch where she rocks and knits and tries to straighten out her tangled thoughts.

Agnes always has a Cox Brothers Funeral Home fan resting in an outside pocket of her big purse. The small southern town of Sweetbriar can be sultry hot, just like that July day when she moved to The Manor. Only on that day, when she needed it the most, her fan had seemed to vanish.

Agnes once told her daughter, Betty Jo, “Every woman ought to have a rain bonnet, a fan, headache powder, and a clean hanky in her purse at all times.”

Do you have a favorite purse?
Why is it your favorite?
What does it look like?
Is it old or new?
What items do you think are essential to carry?

An Easter People

March 27, 2018 by Nancy 16 Comments

One of my favorite quotes is from St. Augustine and reads, “We are an Easter people and alleluia is our song!” I love it because it speaks not only to the joy we can have when celebrating Resurrection Sunday, but also to the abundant life that those who believe in the risen Lord can have all year long.

We are an Easter people when we count our blessings and realize we can never get to the end of the list. Alleluia!

We are an Easter people when we gather together and praise the Lord. Alleluia!

We are an Easter people when we open God’s Word to see what encouragement, correction or advice He has for us each day. So we lift up our alleluias before we intervene in prayer for people we love.

We are also an Easter people when we get bad news about a friend or loved one’s diagnosis, or a scary report from our own doctor. Even through our fears we can sing alleluia because of Jesus’ promise in John 16:33: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

We are an Easter people when we grieve. A parent, spouse, sibling, or child dies, and we wonder how we will get through the next few days and the rest of our lives. How will we even be able to speak at the memorial service if that is required of us? Then we remember the Lord promised in 2 Corinthians 12:9, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” We experience that grace descending upon us to comfort us, strengthen us, and be the wind beneath our wings. And so somehow we still sing alleluia—even with a lump in our throats.

Yes, Easter people grieve, but not like those who have no hope because we have the promise of eternal life. Jesus said in John 11:25, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” Alleluia indeed!

If you aren’t yet one of the Easter people, could this be the Easter that you explore who Jesus is and become one? It’s so easy. Simply believe that Jesus is the Son of God, acknowledge that you are a sinner in need of a Savior (as are we all), and ask the risen Lord to forgive you and come into your heart. When you do, the indwelling of the Holy Spirit will be yours immediately, and a permanent song of alleluia will begin to echo in your soul.

As C.S. Lewis said, Jesus is either a liar, a lunatic, or Lord. (Jesus didn’t leave the “good guy” option open to us.) If this is the first Easter you proclaim him Lord, it will be a wonderful celebration for you here—and the angels will celebrate in heaven, too!

“A Christian should be an alleluia from head to foot,” St. Augustine also said. Christians don’t get everything right. We need forgiveness as much as anyone. And grace. And mercy. But no matter what, “We are an Easter people, and alleluia is our song!”