Back Porch Break & Take My Hand Again Blog Posts

Flights Not So Fancy

March 15, 2018 by Nancy 18 Comments

Well, our bags aren’t packed but we’re ready to go. My husband and I will be “leaving on a jet plane” twice this spring on short trips to visit family, and it has me thinking about the changes in air travel since I took my first flight.

I’m pretty sure all of our 12 grandchildren flew on an airplane before they were three years old. Some of them flew at much younger ages and quite frequently. I don’t know about you, but I was 16 when I first traveled by air. I’d volunteered to co-chair the Teenage March of Dimes in my hometown of Knoxville, TN. The other co-chair (a boy I thought was especially dreamy!) and I traveled all the way to Memphis with the group sponsor for the regional kick-off and training. I’m pretty sure that even though Memphis is in the same state, we changed planes in Atlanta to get there. (My mother always said she’d have to go through Atlanta to get to heaven, but since she has already departed I’ll have to wait to ask her if that was the case once I see her there!)

For sure we traveled on Delta Airlines, the airline of the South, and my heart was racing as we walked on to the tarmac to climb up that long, steep stairway to get on the plane. I looked back once to see my mom and dad pressed up against the window of the terminal waving and smiling. Because those were two relatively short hops, I don’t remember being served a meal in flight on one of the divided trays they used in the 60’s (remember linen napkins and real silverware even in coach?), but just having a Coca-Cola and bag of peanuts that I didn’t have to share with my sisters was the height of luxury to me.

I also remember how beautiful and glamorous I thought the stewardesses were. (They weren’t called flight attendants in those days.) They looked like Miss America contestants to me with their fancy hairdos, perfect makeup, jaunty hats, and pressed uniforms. On the printed material in the seat pocket were illustrations of stewardesses serenely sliding down the emergency ramps in their heels—and I was reassured by how easy they made it seem.

But at the risk of sounding like a geezer, flying just isn’t what it used to be. Compare the flying you did as a teenager or young adult with your last experience and you’ll agree. Obviously the necessarily stricter security measures have contributed to the change. Once you are scanned or patted down and walk to the nearest chair in your socks carrying your belt and shoes, your expectations for a glamorous travel experience are pretty much over. Add delayed or canceled flights, no leg room, possibly surly gate agents and exhausted flight attendants, and there’s little magic left to write home about.

And how the dress passengers consider appropriate has changed! My mom always traveled in a suit with heels, and my dad wore a sport coat and tie. Dressing to travel was akin to dressing for church. You wanted to look your best. I’m OK with more comfortable, casual travel clothes, but do people really have to board in their pajama bottoms, muscle shirts, and flip-flops—even on an early morning flight?

Yet parts of flying never disappoint. My husband and I woke up in Rome, Italy, one morning in 2011 and went to bed in our own bed in Colorado Springs, CO, that night. We must never stop thinking of that as anything but incredible! There’s also something about flying that gets the cobwebs out of my mind and invigorates my soul. Gazing out the window of a plane seemingly eye level with a full moon, or looking down on fields of puffy clouds, it’s impossible to miss what an amazing universe we are blessed to inhabit.

Some of my best ideas and insights have come while traveling on a plane, and I don’t think that will ever change. Flying helps us realize just how awesome God’s Creation is. When we can hold fast to the best and not fret about the rest, it’s still an adventure worth taking. And remember, any flight that lands safely is a good flight!

The Seed Planter

February 28, 2018 by Nancy 37 Comments

I never met Billy Graham. I never attended one of his crusades, but I did see them on TV. So many notable people who knew him personally have written glowing tributes to “America’s Pastor” since he went to glory on Feb. 21, 2018. While my words won’t measure up to theirs, I feel compelled to add a few to the collection because the Lord whispered in my ear this week, “He impacted you too, you know.”

My parents took my sisters and me to church faithfully when I was growing up. I memorized the books of the Bible and was rewarded with a very fancy bookmark. Yet in all those years, no one really told me about the importance of having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. No one told me I would need to surrender my life in order to gain it. But I saw people doing that on TV, and the seed was planted.

As a little girl, I was amazed at the immensity of the crowds that came to hear this preacher with the strong voice and the familiar Southern accent. They filled rows and rows of huge stadiums. Not even the University of Tennessee football stadium, the biggest one I’d ever seen, would have been large enough to hold them all. I was moved to tears one night as I watched people of all ages and all colors leaving their seats to come down to the front where Billy Graham stood. The amazing hymn “Just As I Am” echoed up to every ear, and so they came. They came to accept God’s gift of salvation, and commit their lives to Christ.

Little did I know that when I dried my eyes and went to bed that night, a strong seed had been planted in the heart of this little Tennessee girl. With the seed came a message whispering, “there’s more.” It wasn’t until years later, when my life was derailed by the crisis of divorce, that I fell to my knees with tears streaming down my face and cried out to the Lord. “This is too hard,” I sobbed. “Everything is so messed up. I need for You to take over.” My life changed that day from one ending in death and destruction to one with the promise of eternity. And all because a seed was planted and took root. I knew there was more to a life of faith than what I had experienced because Billy Graham said so, and all those people leaving their seats agreed. Just as I was, I came.

Can you just imagine the conversation in heaven last week?
God: It’s time for Us to bring my servant Billy Graham home.
Angel: But why now? He’ll be 100 in a few months. Shouldn’t he stay for the party?
God: Now is the time because he has fought the good fight. He has finished his race. He’s too weak to deliver my message of salvation again himself, but once he comes to Us, those reporting his passing will proclaim it throughout the land once again! Throughout a land that needs the good news of the gospel message as salve for its wounds. We will bring him home now.

And so it was. With a grateful heart I praise God for raising up a man like Billy Graham in our generation. I didn’t meet him here, but I’ll meet him there. In the meantime, I believe I have some seeds to sow in his honor.

All Rise!

February 8, 2018 by Nancy 15 Comments

I’m fresh off serving on a jury in a criminal case and there are more things lingering in my mind than the knifing and vicious beating captured by the security camera that recorded the crime. I’m hoping those images will leave me soon, because it wasn’t even a TV show or movie I would have chosen. But I hope the positive aspects of serving on the jury stay with me for a long time to come. I see these benefits as falling into three categories: the judge, the jury, and the justice.

First, the judge. I’m sure all judges aren’t like the one I had a chance to observe for four days, but this one was everything you think a judge should be. Calm but firm. Just as respectful to the defendant and the jurors as to the young attorneys before him. Able to treat every human being in that courtroom with dignity, and rightfully expecting the same respect for himself, his staff, and his court.

I know the old image of God as judge is narrow. Judgment is only one of the ways that God relates to all of us. He is so much more than judge. But as I observed the judge in this case, the thought crossed my mind that God sees all His people in much the same way. Equally valued. Equally heard. Blessedly, God also offers forgiveness and love with equanimity, but that’s a story for another time.

Second, the jury. What an amazing sociological experiment it is to take 12 people who just met, put them in a small room together, and ask them to make a very complex and serious decision together. We were men and women of all ages and stages of life. The judge instructed us to look at the facts and just the facts, but with an eye to our personal life experiences as well. Common sense was not ruled out.

Tentatively we began to get acquainted. Over bathroom breaks or when waiting for our Jimmy John’s lunch order to arrive, we shared stories about jobs put on hold, children needing to be picked up at kindergarten, past jury experiences, etc. Getting to know one another on a personal level made it easier to understand the position each person took on the verdict. Initially, we were split 9 to 3, and held to that divide through part of one day and most of the next. It was frustrating and time-consuming, but our charge was to come up with a unanimous decision.

So now, the justice. When it seemed all our active listening and reasoning skills had been exhausted, and we were still at a stalemate, we sent a question to the judge asking, “What constitutes a ‘hung’ jury?” Soon he beckoned us back into the courtroom. As with all our other appearances, as soon as we were at the door to the courtroom we heard, “All rise for the jury.” As juror number one I entered first, trying to convey a confidence we weren’t feeling at the time.

The judge kindly repeated key instructions to us, reminded us that it was our charge to come to a decision, and then dismissed us. When we were back in deliberation, a young mom with two preschoolers exclaimed, “I think we were just sent to our room!” And in fact, we were. I don’t know what changed. Insightful statements finally heard. Emotions analyzed and set aside. Respect for the judge fresh in our minds. I just know that we were able to agree at last, and we notified the court that we had a verdict.

Once all was said and done, the judge visited us in our room to thank us and give us certificates. He reiterated how amazing the criminal justice system is in the United States, and how very few countries hold trials giving the accused a jury of his or her peers. “As cumbersome as it seems at times, it works,” he stated. And at that moment we all agreed wholeheartedly.

Full confession: if I’d had a good excuse not to serve, I probably would have offered it. I didn’t want to cancel my plans for four days any more than anyone else did, but now I’m glad I was chosen. I encourage you to “all rise” to the occasion, too, if you are called. Once you serve, you’ll stand a bit taller and feel a bit prouder of the justice system in this country we are blessed to call home.

Still Here at Seventy

January 21, 2018 by Nancy 24 Comments

I started writing my weekly “Back Porch Break” lifestyle column for the Gazette and the Pueblo Chieftain in the summer of 1995. Preparing to write about turning 70 recently, I began by looking back at past columns about growing older. I found three.

The first was a column titled “Anti-Aging Devices,” written as I turned 48, because in it I confessed I’d started reading the miracle ads about how to reverse aging in the back of magazines! I even wrote that I found saying “four dozen years” preferable to that “late fortyish number” because it didn’t sound as bad. I rationalized, “four dozen cupcakes would be gone fast at a Cub Scout meeting…a street breakfast with only four dozen eggs wouldn’t last till sunrise…and four dozen roses wouldn’t cover the wheel of a Tournament of Roses float…so four dozen years doesn’t seem too many.” How I wish I could go back and tell my 48-year-old self, “Honey, you don’t know anything about aging yet. Quit your whining!”

Then there was a column I wrote on “Turning 50.” Just two years later I’d gotten a more positive spin on the inevitable progression of time. “Fifty means freedom,” I wrote, quoting my then 82-year-old mom. “Free to believe what I believe. Free to spend time with people I cherish. Free to write what I want to write. Free to say what I know to be true, without apology.” Well, wasn’t I just the enlightened one? Fifty, huh?

Eventually the column became a blog and so “The 60th Birthday Train” appeared on my website. Re-reading this column now makes me sad and I apologize 10 years later to anyone who found it depressing! You see, I turned 60 just after my mother-in-law passed away, and my heart and spirit weren’t ready to party. I thought I’d said so clearly, but well-meaning friends and family insisted, and so I went through a series of thoughtful gatherings with a forced smile on my face.

The analogy that came to mind was that I was on a train looking out the window at stations passing by in a blur. I wrote, “At one station I saw my sister and her husband arriving from Tennessee…further down the track, four dear friends stood around a round table and lifted champagne glasses in a toast…at another stop a caring husband stood bearing a bouquet of orange tulips…yet remembered by a heart that grieves it’s all a blur.”

I wrapped up this amazingly uplifting column with the statement, “The one thing that forces the passenger train of life to come to a screeching halt is death.” No kidding, I wrote that! But then I got my chin off the floor to conclude, “We continue traveling toward whatever station comes next…and each station is a gift. Each age achieved is a privilege. And having people who love us enough to help us celebrate those truths, even when we don’t feel like celebrating, is God’s loving provision for us. On that, I’m not blurry at all.” Nice save, sister, I’d tell my 60-year-old self.

So now what? The train kept chugging and I’m still here at seventy. I’m not going to write about growing old this decade, however, because I know my friends in their eighties and nineties would say, “Seventy? That’s nothing, sweetie! Get out and enjoy life. These are the good years.”

How does it feel to be seventy? Mostly good, yet I find myself in a love-hate relationship with the word “still.” More frequently than ever I hear, “You’re still a nice looking woman…for your age.” Or, “You still don’t dye your hair, do you?” Or, “You still exercise? Good for you.” How long will it be before someone says, “Oh, you’re still driving?” Or, “How nice you still have your own teeth.” I don’t like those uses of the word still.

Yet I love the word still when I consider that I’m still pretty healthy, still in love with my husband of almost 30 years, still privileged to spend time with precious adult kids and grandkids, still blessed beyond all I could imagine. Added to that, I’m still a daughter of the King, still forgiven for all my sins—past, present and future—and still heaven bound!

As I look over my 70 years, the failures and successes, the joys and the sorrows, I’m still so very grateful to God for granting me this life. And I’m glad I’m still here at seventy.

An Encouraging Word

January 5, 2018 by Nancy 18 Comments

Each new year brings with it the urge to clear our closets and our lives of the clutter we’ve collected. We want to clean out the old and make way for the new! The new year is also the time for categorizing our habits and deciding which ones to toss out and which ones to carry forward. One I hope we all consider keeping is the habit of encouraging others.

The Greek word for encouragement is “parakaleo,” which means to call a person to your side in order to aid, assist, counsel, console, comfort, exhort and strengthen. It is a word that accurately describes the role of the Holy Spirit and the way the Spirit works through believers to reach others. Webster’s dictionary defines encourage, “to inspire, to renew or give hope.” And while those without a life of faith can be wonderful encouragers, of course, no one can encourage more effectively than the believer filled with the Spirit.

When we make sharing encouraging words a habit, it’s easier to always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have (I Peter 3:15 NIV). What kinds of words can we use to encourage others? Words that heal, words that help, and words from the heart.

Every time you listen to a friend’s grief over a marriage that is failing, the loss of a spouse, or a child that is sick you have a chance to encourage the oppressed (Isaiah 1:17) with words that heal. Just saying “I’m sorry” can penetrate the despair your friend is feeling. So can the words “I love you,” spoken over and over, and “I’ll always be here for you.” Words that heal.

Speaking words that help may be a habit that you aren’t even aware you have. When you offer to clean house for a sick neighbor, cook a meal, pick up the kids or baby sit, you are offering words that help. Let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching we read in Hebrews 10:25. You do that when you offer words that help make life easier for others.

The most encouraging words of all are words spoken from the heart. Those words the Spirit leads you to spontaneously share with people you know, and even with strangers.

Speaker and author Sandra Aldrich tells a wonderful story about some encouraging words she received when she was faced with adapting to single parenthood after her husband’s death. Still grieving for her husband, she decided to take a trip with her two children to give them all a diversion. But it didn’t go well. Her son was always running off, and her daughter shadowed her so closely she almost tripped over her at every turn. Finally getting her son in tow, she was standing in line with both kids at a restaurant wondering how she was ever going to manage as a single mother.

Just then an elderly, Spanish-speaking woman who had been observing Sandra and her children for awhile passed by them. Reaching out, she patted Sandra on the arm and in her halting English said, “You good mamma.” That’s all she said. “You good mamma.” And then she was gone.

Those few words of encouragement, spoken from the heart of one mother to another, sustained Sandra through her years of single parenthood and made such an impression on her that she included the story in a speech many years later.

Words that heal, words that help, and words from the heart. Sharing them with others is a habit worthy of the new year.

The Christmas Swap

December 21, 2017 by Nancy 16 Comments

I drove away from an annual Christmas Cookie Swap delighted with my tin filled with a variety of delectable cookies. Especially since I had taken chocolate crackle cookies made from a recipe I never tried before. I literally had to scrape the pan to get enough dough to make the 4 dozen cookies requested. Some were small, some were large, some were overdone. Fortunately, powdered sugar covers a multitude of sins, right?

But now! Now I was driving home with seven-layer bars, frosted sugar cookies, Napoleon hats, lemon wafers, rum balls, and so much more! It’s hard to pat yourself on the back while you’re driving, but I was definitely pleased—and grateful to my gracious friend who decorates her home beautifully and hosts this event each year.

With new confidence in my ability to make such an astute and excellent exchange, 4 dozen powder-coated crackle cookies for a tin full of baked delicacies, I began to wonder what else I should swap this Christmas season.

The first thing that came to mind was that maybe I could swap out my need to be heard, and to be right, with a willingness to really listen to what other people have to say. This could sweeten up my attitudes, and so be a good and a healthy swap.

I’d also like to swap out pessimism for optimism. There are events and changes in this world that give me reason to be discouraged, but there are also blessings to be found in every situation if we look for them. I want to be less like Eeyore and more like Tigger! That would be a mighty fine swap.

Always, I endeavor to swap out fear for faith. Concerns for friends and family members, and some of the choices they make, can lead me to fear the worst. But faith overcomes fear. God is still on His throne. He still cares. He still loves. There’s no question faith is the better deal.

I want to swap out darkness for light. There’s an abundance of evil in the world and despite our best efforts to keep it out, some might still seep under the doors of my home. I don’t need to invite it in. This season, I swapped out contentious news reports for schmaltzy Christmas movies. That was a soul-healing swap for sure!

All of these exchanges, as good as they are, may just be temporary however. The most enduring and amazing Christmas swap is the exchange God made with us. It’s clearly spelled out in a familiar Bible verse, John 3:16 (KJV): For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. He sent His Son, Jesus, in exchange for a world of sin. He swapped forgiveness for failing. He traded the eternal for the temporal.

My prayer for those who have not yet swapped out a limited life for an eternal one is that they will do so this Christmas by believing in Jesus Christ. No judgment. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. All need a Savior.

Our powdered-sugar coated, temporal lives for His pure eternal one. What a miraculous, life-changing Christmas swap!

Thankful Living

November 22, 2017 by Nancy 12 Comments

Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name. For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.—Psalm 100:4-5

We live in a society that makes it easier to grumble than to be grateful. We have to move someplace we never really wanted to live, and so we grumble. We are disappointed that the political candidate we support isn’t elected, and so we grumble. Daily aggravations can produce grumbling as well: scheduled visits are cancelled, we have to wait for a doctor’s appointment, we look forward to a meal only to be faced with a surly server. All these things and more give us opportunities to grumble.

We even feel justified in our grumbling, don’t we? If we come from the misguided assumption that life should be fair, then grumbling is a given. But what if we change our assumption and our thinking? What if we begin to look, each and every day, not for reasons to grumble, but for reasons to be grateful? What if we could establish a habit of thankful living?

Ann Voscamp wrote a book titled One Thousand Gifts which began as a challenge from a friend to write down 1,000 blessings in her life. Ann’s list far exceeded 1,000 blessings once she opened her eyes to all that was around her. Can we do it? Can we begin to look for opportunities to be grateful rather than opportunities to grumble? Certainly keeping our eyes on God is a good place to start. Ann wrote in her blog, “We will give thanks to God not because of how we feel, but because of who He is.” Let us give thanks.

Can we do it? Can we even convert a life of habitual grumbling into a life of thankful living? With God’s help, and by keeping our focus on Him, we can. Certainly not all of us are grumblers, but all of us can be more aware of the blessings that are ours.

The older we grow, the more blessings we have in our blessings accounts. We enter into a life of thankful living when we spend more time remembering our blessings than fretting about what we don’t have now. For example, those of us blessed to be parents and grandparents can easily find ourselves wishing we could spend more time with those we love, but just the very existence of those people in our families is a blessing, isn’t it?

A woman having breakfast with her husband at a restaurant entered into a discussion with their waitress and found out the waitress was excited about leaving to visit her grandchildren the next day. “How old are they?” the woman asked. “They are six and eight,” the waitress replied. “How long has it been since you’ve seen them?” the woman inquired. “Oh, I’ve never seen them,” the waitress answered. Certainly that puts having to go weeks or months without seeing those we love into perspective, doesn’t it?

Paul wrote his letter to the Christians in Philippi, the Book of Philippians in the Bible, while he was in prison in Rome. Certainly Paul had much to grumble about. He was falsely accused and unfairly imprisoned. Yet the Book of Philippians is known as the book of joy! In spite of his circumstances, Paul was able to write a message of joy because of the certainty of his faith in Jesus Christ. His joy and gratitude were based on the eternity he knew was waiting for him, not on the prison cell around him.

We can have the same attitude of gratitude that sustained Paul. We can experience the joy of thankful living by focusing on all that God has done for us—and on our eternal life to come. As Thanksgiving comes this year, let us say along with Paul, “I thank my God” (Philippians 1:3).

(Excerpted in part from The Hope of Glory, Volume Two, publication date TBD.)

The Art of Thankful Giving

November 9, 2017 by Nancy 10 Comments

As Thanksgiving arrives this year our gratitude for what we have seems to run deeper than ever before, doesn’t it? As we look at all the blessings God has placed in our hands, we come to the realization that thanks giving may not be enough. It is rather “thankful giving” that best expresses our gratitude.

I hope to carry this attitude of thankful giving beyond Thanksgiving all the way through the Christmas season this year. While our shopping and wrapping may be scaled down as we focus even more on what matters most, I’m still extremely grateful to have the means to give something to others—and to have others to receive what I give.

Billy Graham said, “God has given us two hands—one to receive with and the other to give with. We are not cisterns made for hoarding; we are channels made for sharing.”

The realization that He has chosen us to be such channels of giving is sometimes humbling and heartrending. One Christmas season my two oldest granddaughters saw princess outfits they loved at a store at the mall. The frilly dresses were ridiculously overpriced, but being the indulgent grandmother I can sometimes be, I went back a few days later and purchased both.

As I was writing out my check the tears started to well up in my eyes. By the time I grabbed my bulky package and left the store they were freely flowing. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that I was able to buy gifts for my granddaughters when I knew there were many grandmothers who weren’t able to do the same.

A friend of mine is haunted by a news report she saw. A grandmother in Afghanistan was lying on a dirt floor, too weak to get up and tend to her six grandchildren who sat on the floor around her—their parents unaccounted for. Only God can reconcile the disparity between that woman and those of us who will be able to purchase and wrap gifts for our children and grandchildren for Christmas this year. Certainly the love in her heart is no weaker than that in ours.

“Freely you have received; freely give,” Jesus said (Matthew 10:8 NIV). It truly is more blessed to give than to receive, and sharing what we have received with those we love may be the greatest form of gratitude. This year let’s make an attitude of thankful giving the invisible “add-on” to every package we wrap.

Time for Some Fall-da-ra!

October 16, 2017 by Nancy 26 Comments

I know the word is really folderol, or falderal, and means foolishness or nonsense. But when I used my version to describe a neighbor’s wonderful display of all things autumn at her house we both laughed—so I thought I’d spread the joy!

Actually fall decorations aren’t nonsense, they are delightful and meaningful. The most lavish displays of fall-da-ra I’ve seen in my lifetime are in East Tennessee. Visiting my home state in October, and driving through Pigeon Forge to Gatlinburg and on to Cades Cove in The Great Smoky Mountains National Park, I saw more pumpkins, scarecrows, dried cornstalks, decorative corn and gourds, hay bales and mums than I knew existed. Every street corner, business or residence has a fall display each year, and many rival a Macy’s window at Christmas time in terms of creativity and abundance.

So what motivates us to do this kind of fall decorating? Why do I have three tubs of fall decorations myself, and take great delight in setting out autumn leaves, pumpkins, and all things orange, red, and gold? The tradition actually has very deep roots. Anyone who has farmed or been around a farm knows the activity and celebration that accompanies the harvest season. Once all the hard work is done, the hay is baled and in the barn, the produce is picked and canned for winter, then it’s time to party!

Neighbors in farming communities still come together bringing fresh-baked apple pies and squash casseroles to share. Tables are decorated with mason-jar bouquets of the last blooms from the garden. There might even be a square dance to the tune of a fiddle or two—all under the glow of a big orange harvest moon. After all, in some areas of the country neighbors might not see one another again until the spring thaw. Time to celebrate!

As for the even more meaningful part, harvest is mentioned throughout the Bible. After the great flood detailed in Genesis, God promised Noah: “As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease” (Gen. 8:22). In Exodus 23:16, God named one of the three feasts He expected the Jewish people to celebrate the Feast of Harvest. “Celebrate the Feast of Harvest with the firstfruits of the crops you sow in your field,” He said.

As with most Biblical themes, the harvest is carried through from the Old Testament to the New Testament. So we read in Galatians 6:9: Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Why have some fall-da-ra? To celebrate hard work completed—that we truly do reap what we sow. To acknowledge God’s abundant blessing in our lives and prepare for the upcoming season of Thanksgiving. To remind ourselves that it’s never too late to live a productive life from which others can glean something useful.

So pile up the pumpkins, make a centerpiece of multi-colored mums, light the spice-scented candles, set the cobbler on the counter to cool. It’s fall. Time for some fall-da-ra!

Grateful for the Golden Days

September 21, 2017 by Nancy 14 Comments

In places that experience a change of seasons it happens every fall. As the days grow shorter, they seem to take on a golden hue that bathes and blesses us. I don’t know how sunlight can change color, but it clearly does. These are the golden days, and we need to embrace them and bask in them before the snow flies.

Life has golden seasons, too, doesn’t it? Several couples we know are celebrating their 50th Anniversaries this fall. My husband and I are in a second marriage, so we laugh that we’ll have to be wheeled into the activities room in assisted living if we make it to our fiftieth celebration—we’ll be 90 and 91. “Look, honey! There’s a cake!” one of us might exclaim.

Which doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate that these are golden years for us, too–and we thank God for them. A recent tragedy experienced by close friends reminds us this could change any time. But as of today we both have our health, the time and inclination to engage in activities that bring us joy, and ministries that make life worth living. We have more family members geographically close than ever before, and we love getting to spend time with them. In our own way, these are our golden years, and we are glad we know it.

I find myself wondering how to spend these glorious, golden days of fall however. What could I do to celebrate all things golden besides binge watch episodes of “The Golden Girls”—which is never a completely bad idea by the way. Maybe I could buy some goldfish to entertain the cats. I’d love to go gallivanting with a litter of Golden Retriever puppies. Or pluck a golden pear from a tree. Or listen to a golden oldies station on the radio and reprise some dance moves from the 60’s and 70’s! Or better than all that, perhaps I should look for golden opportunities to make a positive difference in the world—even to live out the golden rule.

What about you? How will you celebrate these golden days of autumn? Even if life has thrown some crises your way, can you look for the golden aspects of each day? Can you find some time just to sit on a park bench and let the warm autumn sun reach down into your soul? A quote seen on Pinterest read, “These are days we dream about when the sunlight paints us gold.” Yes! The glorious days when the sunlight paints us gold. Let’s live them fully.