Nancy Parker Brummett

Author Writer Speaker

Driveways of Life

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Liam on Trike (cropped)Writers are always waxing poetic about the highways and byways of life. I’ve decided most of life is actually lived out in the driveways.

Think about it. Where did you first learn to pedal a tricycle all by yourself? In the driveway, of course. (Just like grandson, Liam, shown here in April.) And I can still remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach the day I stood next to my dad and watched him take the training wheels off my first bike. By the end of the afternoon I was making my wobbly way from one end of the driveway to the other, skinned knees shining in the sunlight.

That same driveway later became the setting for conquests of a different kind. One of my first boyfriends, let’s just call him Harold since that was his name, came over to see me on his new red Moped. He thought he was really cool, and I was at least impressed enough to spend all afternoon standing next to him in the driveway as he straddled his bike and we both tried to think of something to say.

That was just the beginning of driveway romances. Hasn’t it been the same for generations? The car pulls into the driveway. The young couple inside takes advantage of being alone in the dark to steal a kiss…or two…or three…until the porch light starts flashing off and on and the girl knows it’s time to come in.

My dad went beyond flashing the light. Some time during my high school years we bought an electric organ, and Dad chose curfew time to sit down and try to play some of the hymns in the booklet that came with it. Nothing got me into the house faster than hearing the first few chords of his screechy rendition of “Bringing in the Sheaves” wafting through the living room windows.

Of course, learning to drive a car began in the driveway for most of us. Back and forth. Back and forth. When I first laid eyes on my first car, a used, white Chevy II with blue interior, it was sitting in the driveway in front of our house. A dream-come-true on wheels.

Once when I was on a radio talk show I began exchanging driveway memories with callers. An older man reminisced about helping his dad work on Buicks in the driveway. The two of them had their most significant conversations between “pass me the wrench” and “OK, give it some gas.” Somehow it’s easier to talk about touchy subjects like the “birds and bees” when you’re busy working at the same time. (Sort of like the kind of conversation moms and daughters used to have drying dishes together before dishwashers.)

Our photo albums are peppered with various driveway good-bye scenes. I imagine myself wearing a college sweatshirt and waving a pompon or two as each of my boys left for college for the first time, but the photos seem to show I was in a bathrobe with a bit of pancake batter smeared down the front. Look closely enough and you can also see the tracks of my tears. Those were wrenching good-byes.

The photos of my married sons on my desk now were both taken in driveways. In each one, a grinning young man is accompanied by his smiling bride as, vehicles packed, the newlyweds prepare to drive away together. “Bye, Mom!” they seem to say. “We’re off!”

Not everything that happens in the driveway is worth remembering. I once had a wreck in mine. As I was ready to pull out on my way to work, a car rolled down a steep driveway across the street from us. By the time I realized there wasn’t a driver inside, it was too late to get out of the way, and the runaway car smashed right into mine. “You aren’t going to believe this,” I said to my husband as he emerged from his shower moments later. “I just had a wreck, and I never left the driveway.”

Bringing new babies home, posing for prom pictures, visiting with neighbors…all of life can be lived out in the driveway. Proceed with caution.

Just Enough

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Red gumboots in rainThis week’s rain reminded me of a 2011 column…

It began as a misty feeling in the air. Soon the first distinct drops began to fall. All day long we were bathed in gentle, soaking rain. After months of no precipitation at all, the very sound of it soothed our souls as it danced on the rooftops, collected in the gutters and trickled down the windowpanes. By afternoon, when it was still raining, we could almost begin to see the grass turn greener. Kids splashed and laughed their way through puddles and birds frolicked wherever pools collected. Glorious, glorious rain.

Yet as happy as we were to receive some moisture in parched Colorado, where the threat of wildfire hangs heavy in the dry, windy air, I know other parts of the country are praying the rain will stop. Grim images of flooded towns along the Mississippi River appear on TV as devastated residents strive to save themselves and anything else they can from the rising waters. As if the flooding isn’t bad enough, they also have to be aware of water moccasins slithering into their flooded basements. Farmers in the heartland can only watch helplessly as crops are destroyed by rising waters.

It is ‘just enough’ that we desire, isn’t it? Neither too little nor too much, but just enough. (Especially in the Waldo Canyon Fire area of Colorado Springs.) In the unlikely event that the rain continues in Colorado day after day, even we would no doubt complain, “When will it stop?” We want the moisture, but we want just enough.

This principle permeates our entire human experience. Lord, I ask, give me just enough patience to deal with this situation, but don’t let it drag on forever. Give me just enough wealth to meet my needs, not so much that it becomes a burden, or so little that it becomes a challenge, but just enough. Just enough hope, just enough well-being, just enough wisdom, the list goes on.

And yet the only thing we can be absolutely sure that we will always have just enough of is God’s grace. When the Apostle Paul pleaded with God to take away the thorn in his flesh, God replied, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Cor. 12:9)

God in His goodness sheds His common grace generously over all of His creation but to those who trust in Him, He adds the promise that they will always have just enough grace. Sometimes, in the midst of disaster or a heartbreaking situation, it can feel like a mere trickle. But looking back we realize it was indeed just the grace we needed, just when we needed it. Other times it feels as if God is pouring out an abundance of His grace on us—letting it overflow into every parched portion of our souls. Always, in any circumstance, it is just enough. Let’s not miss God’s grace, whether it’s a sprinkle or a deluge.

Women Running

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Jesus pouring waterTwo accounts in the Gospel of John of women running to share good news always bring tears to my eyes—and leave me breathless. The first is when Jesus encounters the Samaritan woman, and the second is when He reveals himself to Mary Magdalene on that first Easter morning.

You may know the story of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman—how He takes an undesirable route on a journey from Galilee in the north of Israel to Jerusalem in the south just to make sure He meets up with her. She is a woman scorned. Having survived five bad marriages, she is now living with a man she didn’t bother to marry. She goes to gather water at the well in the heat of the day in order to avoid giving the other women in the village another opportunity to gossip about her. Then she “just happens” to run into Jesus.

Reading the full account in John 4:7-29 changes lives today just as the encounter with Jesus changed hers that day so long ago. For Jesus doesn’t condemn her, He simply lets her know that He knows all about her, and cares about her anyway. He discusses theology with her, explains how He is the Source of living water, and then—to this most unlikely of confidantes—reveals that He is the Messiah. John 4:28 states what happens next: Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Christ?”

Ken Gire, in his wonderful book Intimate Moments with the Savior, describes the scene like this: “In that intimate moment of perception, she leaves to tell this good news to the city that has both shared her and shunned her. Behind, left in the sand, is her empty water jar. Stretching before her is a whole new life. And with her heart overflowing with living water she starts to run. Slowly at first. Then as fast as her new legs will take her. “

The second encounter that takes my breath away is found in John 20:10-18. Remember Mary Magdalene? She’s the woman Jesus saved from seven demons. A loyal follower, she stands by Mary, the mother of Jesus, throughout He is Risenhis crucifixion. In her complete devotion, she is last at the cross, first at the tomb. How horrified she is to find the stone rolled away, and the tomb empty! First she runs to tell the disciples what she discovered, then she runs back with them to the tomb. They leave, but she stays.

And we know what happens next. She, too, encounters a man. John 20:15-16 reads: “Woman,” he said, “why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.” Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabonni!” (which means Teacher).

Jesus tells Mary Magdalene to go and tell the others that He has risen, and will soon be returning to His father in heaven. John 20:18 tells us: Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: “I have seen the Lord!”

I can only imagine how tired she is after crying for two days, not sleeping, and running to the tomb not just once on that first Easter morning, but twice! Yet I’m sure that once she hears the greatest news of all, she doesn’t just saunter into town to tell the others. She runs—her sandals pounding the dirt path as she holds onto her head covering with one hand and wipes away tears with the other.

This Easter, may you also have an intimate encounter with Jesus. May you see Him for who He truly is—then run as fast as you can to tell someone the good news! Have a blessed, joyful Easter.

Be Prepared

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IMG_2752Some mottoes are solid enough to sustain us our whole life. How well I remember learning the Girl Scout motto, “Be prepared.” You could still wake me up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night and I would be able to recite the oath, too: “On my honor, I will try to do my duty to God and my country…” Those things we learn at such an early age are forever imprinted.

So what does it mean to be prepared at 65? Obviously it’s not just having spare batteries for your flashlight, matches in a waterproof tin, and dry kindling for a campfire, although those are still excellent practices. It’s not even stocking up gallons of purified water and canned goods in the basement in case of natural disaster, although I followed that advice prior to Y2K (remember that non event?). More recently we’ve thought seriously about what we would want to take with us should we have to evacuate our home due to wildfires. It could easily happen, and we want to be ready. But what else calls us to be prepared?

After a certain age it’s  important to “have your affairs in order” as they say: to have all the legal end-of-life documents in place to make life much easier for your children and grandchildren when you go. That kind of advice can be found in any number of resources, and it’s important, but I’ve also picked up tips about being prepared merely by observation.

I’ve been blessed by friendships with several women much older than I who taught me pragmatic approaches to being prepared on a daily basis. For example, my friend Myrtle gave up driving at night, so she reluctantly but graciously accepted offers for a ride to book groups or organizational meetings. Myrtle made fabulous, unforgettable peanut brittle. One thing she did to be prepared was to always have small baggies of fresh peanut brittle to slip into the handbag of anyone chauffeuring her as a personal thank you. Much to my husband’s delight, more than a few of those bags ended up in my purse! She was prepared.

Planning ahead is a coping skill all my older friends cultivate. When we would arrive at an event, I would be digging in my purse for a pen and checkbook in order to pay the pre-arranged fee for lunch, while my older friend Denise simply handed over the check she had filled out in the comfort of her own home before leaving. She was prepared.

Now being prepared spiritually is what matters most to me. We’ve been to far too many funerals this year; most for people our age or younger. Like all who have accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior, I have the blessed assurance of knowing where I am going when I die. I truly believe Jesus has gone to prepare a place for me (John 14:2). Yet I want to be prepared for whatever comes my way before I go to heaven by having the Word of God buried deep in my heart.

I’m beginning to wonder if I will live to see the day when all Christians, even in this country, are persecuted for our faith. If I’m ever incarcerated without a hymnal or a Bible, I want to have a wide selection of hymns and Bible verses memorized to sustain me! I guess the little girl in me who memorized the Girl Scout motto and oath, and earned all those badges on the sash in the photo, still wants to be prepared.

Molly, the “Quiet Time” Cat

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Molly on HassockOur cat, Molly, has what the local humane society calls the “personal assistant” purr-sonality. This means that whatever you are doing, Molly will be nearby just in case you need some help. Wrapping packages? She’ll gladly chew on the curling ribbon for you. Working on taxes? She’ll happily sprawl out over the paperwork on your desk or push ballpoint pens and paper clips onto the floor to keep you entertained. Just whatever she can do to help.

Unlike her boisterous brother Beau (also a cat), she doesn’t burst into a room demanding attention. Rather, she usually curls up just outside the door—an eavesdropper with whiskers. Whenever we have a group of people over, she’s likely to claim a spot under the coffee table as if she were an invited guest. She rarely gets close enough to anyone to be petted. She just wants to listen in on the conversation and stay nearby to help with any hospitality requirements.

Given all that, you won’t be surprised to hear that for years she has consistently joined me early in the morning during my quiet time. As I sit and read, work on a Bible study, or turn to the Lord in prayer, she just sits on the hassock in front of me purring softly. She’s rarely in the chair with me or on my lap, just right in front of me where she can be ready to help if needed, and where I can give her an occasional pat on the head or a rub behind the ears.

What is surprising is that recently she has come to expect that this shared time with me will happen on schedule—and to be quite demanding if it doesn’t! The coffee is set to perk at 6:30 AM, so if she hears it perking, and sees the sunrise, she knows I need to be in my chair in the living room. If I’m not moving in that direction, she now meows persistently outside the door of our bedroom to get my attention. After I roll out of bed, find my robe and slippers, and open the door, she takes off down the hall to keep our appointment with the Almighty.

Now wouldn’t you think that knowing the Lord of the Universe was willing to spend some time with me would be enough to get me out of bed? Shouldn’t it be enough that He who hung the stars and gives life to everything that has life may have something important to tell me? The answer to both questions is yes. Yet it helps to have a feline alarm clock.

And I don’t mind sharing my quiet time with Molly. After all, Psalm 150:6 says, Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. In this season of my life God is using this sweet little grayish cat to bolster my spiritual discipline. Her faithfulness keeps me faithful, and I’m ever so grateful.

 

A Winter Beach Vacation

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beautiful sunset on the beachThis is a classic column just as appropriate this year as the year I wrote it! Recently filed it in The Country Register, too. Come along with me!

When I put the topic for this column on a list of topics weeks ago, I expected to be nursing a sunburn as I wrote it. My husband and I were planning a midwinter beach vacation then.

Priorities being what they are, we didn’t make it. Instead, I keep bumping into other people I know who’ve just gotten back from Mexico or Hawaii. One tan, relaxed-looking friend just returned from Tahiti!

Instead of writing about my beach bummin’ days, I’m bummin’ about not going to the beach. Instead of giving you an account of lazy afternoons spent stretched out on the sand, I’m stretching my imagination to take a seaside vacation to Mexico in my mind. Want to come along?

Are you packed yet? You don’t need much. Put in a couple of bathing suits so you don’t have to pull on a wet one the day after wearing it. Old, faded suits will do.

You need a pair of shorts and a T-shirt for each day we’re there. Add a sweater or sweatshirt for cool nights in salty breezes, a long skirt or sundress for one nice dinner out, a pair of flip-flops and a pair of nicer sandals for shopping excursions, and you’re ready. (Toss in some suntan lotion and block but forget about makeup…this is a vacation!)

At the airport waiting for our flight, you ask if I have my ticket. Of course! (I went back and got it after leaving it on the kitchen counter.) You looked pretty silly arriving in the snow in that straw hat, but I’ll wish I had it when the sun’s beating down on my head.

Comparing books in our carry-on bags as we wait to board, we realize we both brought Beach Music, so I give my copy to an anxious-looking woman next to me on the plane. One decent book and one mindless romance each is all we need—then we’ll swap!

Finally we arrive! As we walk down the steps from the plane onto the tarmac I look at you and we laugh. It’s like we just walked into a steam room. A breeze stirs the palm trees lining the runway and you grab your hat just in time.

After a bumpy bus ride we check into our hotel (sure, I’ll take the bed by the window), change into our suits, and head for the beach. The chairs are all taken, so we stretch out a blanket on the sand and collapse. Ahhh…this is what it’s all about.

You go for a dip in the ocean. I don’t mean to laugh at your hopping across the hot sand—but it’s funny! Soon you’re back and the smell of salt water on suntan lotion fills the air. (Hey, you’re getting wet sand on the blanket!) Tomorrow I’ll swim, too, but today…I’m vacating.

As the sun starts to go down we pull on our T-shirts and get a couple of overly sweet drinks. We claim a couple of abandoned beach chairs and sit watching the orange sunset appear behind the rock formations out in the water. Silently we absorb the soothing sounds of the surf punctuated by the calls of the gulls as they head home for the night.

I feel better. How about you?

 

What’s New with You?

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IMG_1098Are you, like me, tired of the same old New Year’s feature stories and articles? I mean really. Can a TV program convince us to lose weight or exercise if we haven’t made those commitments already? And do we really care about the latest trends in fashion for the new year? Or how to organize our kitchens, closets, offices, or garages? We’ve been there and done that. And if we feel like it, we’ll do it again. But not because we read an article about it or saw it on TV!

Still, we shouldn’t let our cynicism about stock New Year’s features keep us from using the new year for a much needed jump start or as motivation to make some necessary changes. So what’s going to be new with you? What change are you ready to make not just because it’s the first week of January, but because you’re ready to make it? Think about that while I share a few of mine.

First, I’m ready for a new perspective on politics. Seeing the movie “Lincoln” reminded me that leadership can be either exemplary and unifying, as it was with our 16th president, or deplorable and divisive. But that regardless, our nation will survive for as long as God wills it—not a day longer and not a day less. So we can do our best to be responsible citizens, and we can pray. That’s it. My new perspective includes letting go of the sadness about our nation that has been upon me for so long now. It’s weighing me down and making me unpleasant to be around, and it’s got to go.

Second, I can feel in my bones that this is the year I will deliver on my desire to “downsize in place.” My husband and I aren’t ready to leave our home for smaller digs because we still love having room for kids and grandkids to visit. But we are both ready to jettison a whole lot of the stuff in it: to streamline our lives in every conceivable way so that we’re ready for whatever the future holds. I don’t need a fortune teller to tell me there are a lot of large, black trash bags in our future. It’s going to happen!

Third, although I haven’t taken time for granted for many years now, I’m going to take more seriously the wisdom of Psalm 90:12: Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. As trite as it sounds, each day IS a gift. I have no idea how many I have left to do the work I feel God has called me to do, but I’m wise enough to know there’s no longer time for procrastination. This year I will be keenly aware of time and treat it with respect.

My sister Mary called me this morning and commented on the first devotion in the book God Calling, edited by A. J. Russell, that we are both reading this year. Written by two British women who met to pray together in the 1930’s, it contains the things they believed God was saying to them through his son Jesus Christ. In the January 1 entry we read: I stand between the years. The Light of My Presence is flung across the year to come—the radiance of the Sun of Righteousness. Backward, over the past year, is My Shadow thrown, hiding trouble and sorrow and disappointment. Dwell not on the past—only on the present. I determined not to let the past use up too much of the present many years ago. But, with the Lord’s help, I’ll be even more focused on the present as I move into this new year.

What about you? What’s new with you?

(Thanks to my grandson Peter for being my model once again. This was taken on New Year’s Eve 2009. If this doesn’t get you going, what will?)

A Little Extra Jesus

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Jesus - ChristmasOf all the decorations we put up at Christmas, what I treasure most is my collection of nativity sets. One goes on the mantel, one in the bookcase in the living room, and one on the bookshelf in the family room. Those are the main sets, but I have smaller ones that get tucked here and there, too. Each one plays a part in helping us stay focused on the reason for Christmas—the celebration of that point in time when Jesus Christ became flesh and made his dwelling among us (John 1:14).

For two years I was unable to find the Baby Jesus that went with a small terra cotta nativity set. Finally, the next year, I reluctantly placed the stable, Mary and Joseph into the give-away pile, because what good is a nativity set without its star? I hoped maybe someone else would be able to use what was left of my set to replace a broken figure or two.

But wouldn’t you know, the year after that, as I was unpacking the nativities, I noticed something in the corner of a piece of bubble wrap. There it was—the missing Baby Jesus in the manger. Now, of course, I had no Mary and Joseph to watch over him, I just had a little extra Jesus, measuring less than two inches long! What could I possibly do with a little extra Jesus?

It didn’t take me long to realize the answer to that question. Everyone can use a little extra Jesus. Certainly the grieving families in Newtown, CT, and everyone involved in that horrible tragedy could use a little extra Jesus this year. So could my friend undergoing cancer treatment, the homeless people in our community looking for a place to get in out of the cold, and those who wonder if they will be able to make their house payments in the new year.

But none of these people need the little terra cotta Jesus that now sleeps so serenely amidst my Christmas decorations. They need more of Jesus himself—more of his mercy, his love, and his peace. They need more of his compassion, his healing, and his power—more of the hope of eternal life that he gives us. We who know him, and celebrate the true meaning of Christmas, are to be the hands and feet of Jesus in this world. If someone is to experience more of him, it may well be through us.

Now I know what to do with this tiny terra cotta babe in the manger. He’s not extra at all. I will keep him to remind me that we all need a little extra Jesus—not only at Christmas, but always.

 

Shopping for Encouragement

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Few things are more disheartening this time of year than looking at a Christmas shopping list with no check marks by the names. You want to give something special to each person on the list, but you wonder where you’ll find either the time or the money to purchase the gifts. And after you shop, it can be even more discouraging to realize you’ve spent money you didn’t really have on items people didn’t really need or want!

This year, why not look at your list as an encouragement list instead of a shopping list? What can you give these people that will encourage them to move closer to meeting their goals or realizing the God-given, created design for their lives? You’ll be amazed how far the dollars stretch when the real value of the gift is its ability to encourage.

And it’s not that difficult to think of reasonably priced gifts with a “value-added” encouragement factor. For example, giving a box of paints to a child with an artistic bent, or a new soccer ball to a child who’s proud of her athletic ability, is a way you say, “I see who you are, and I think you’re terrific.” Obviously, it’s taking the time to see who they are and who they are in the process of becoming that is the real gift.

A promise for free babysitting or a gift certificate for a manicure is sure to encourage a young mother and affirm the value of her decision to make being a mom a top priority in her life. Likewise, a young dad might appreciate tickets to a ballgame or registration to a men’s retreat. Something that says, “You’re a good dad and you deserve a break.”

A set of note cards with stamped envelopes, pre-addressed to family members, will encourage an elderly grandmother to keep in touch with those she loves. It also carries an extra-encouraging message that says, “All of us in this family value you and what you have to offer to us. Don’t ever stop sharing your love and wisdom with us.”

Look at the names on your list again. What could you give each person that would be an encouragement for his or her life journey this year? Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, Paul wrote to the church in Thessalonica (1 Thessalonians 5:11). Christmas gives us a new opportunity to do this when we exchange our shopping lists for encouragement lists.

Happy shopping!

Thanksgiving Corn

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Here’s a “Back Porch Break” classic with memories of Thanksgivings past. Wishing you and yours a blessed Thanksgiving, full of memory-making!

With each year that passes I become fonder of Thanksgiving. Uncomplicated by the excessive decorating and gift-giving that we seem compelled to do at Christmas time, Thanksgiving is simpler. It’s all-inclusive, and it’s a time for focusing not on what we don’t have, but on what we do.

One of my fondest memories of Thanksgivings past was when I was living in a tiny village in Germany as the homesick wife of an Army officer and the mother of a two-year-old. The only other American family in the village invited us to share Thanksgiving dinner with them. They shared a tradition as well.

Many years and changes later that tradition is now a special part of Thanksgivings in our blended family. Although the group that gathers at our house can differ from year to year, someone’s sure to ask, “Are we going to do the corn thing?” Here’s how it’s done.

After the table is set for Thanksgiving dinner, you put a single kernel of corn at each place (popcorn works just fine). Once everyone is seated, you pass a small bowl or cup from person to person. In turn, each drops his or her kernel of corn into the bowl and says what he or she is most thankful for this year. (I always leave the gravy on the stove and the lid on the sweet-potato-and-marshmallow casserole…this can take awhile!)

Since there are no right or wrong answers, we’ve found almost everyone feels free to say something. This simple sharing bonds young and old, and both laughter and tears are pretty much guaranteed! If you decide to try “the corn thing,” the scene around your table could be something like this…

A mother might look down at the newborn sleeping in the crook of her arm and softly express gratitude for “ten fingers and ten toes.

A college freshman, home for the holiday with new appreciation for all that he left behind, might say, “I’m thankful for a home to come to…and that Mom’s doing my laundry.”

A grandma who successfully recuperated from heart bypass surgery might take the bowl in one hand, the corn in the other, and look around the table at people she loves. “I’m just thankful to be here with all of you,” she might say through her tears.

A small child might wriggle and giggle when it’s her turn, then say she’s thankful for “mommy and daddy and turkey to eat.”

One year, after the corn was collected and I was back in the kitchen pouring gravy into the gravy boat, I felt my little granddaughter Amanda tugging on my skirt. “Grancy!” she said with tears in her eyes, “I forgot to say I was thankful for Jesus—and for my sister!” I was glad to get everyone’s attention again so Amanda could add her “overlooked blessings.”

After the sharing, when the tears and laughter have subsided, we join hands and say grace. Of course, a grateful heart is the best prayer of all. May yours be full to overflowing with gratitude this year.