Nancy Parker Brummett

Author Writer Speaker

Restoring a Grand Old Lady

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As enjoyable as the holiday season may be, we can all feel the need for physical renewal once it’s over. The “new year, new you” mantra strikes a chord with many of us.

We can glean inspiration from a story of amazing restoration. On April 15, 2019, a devastating fire extensively damaged Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. The crowd of onlookers gasped as flames shot through the roof and her iconic steeple toppled to the ground, with debris even spilling in to the Seine River nearby. To see this beloved medieval Catholic cathedral, built from the 12th to the 14th centuries, crumbling before their eyes was a horror beyond imagination.

But hope sprang from the ashes. France’s President Emmanuel Macron declared that the grand cathedral, visited by thousands of sojourners yearly, would be rebuilt and restored to her original glory in five years.

My husband and I were privileged to walk the streets of Paris in July of 2023. As we looked up at the massive scaffolding surrounding the majestic cathedral we shared our tour guide’s view that Macron’s deadline would probably not be met. Naysayers were many, yet thousands of diligent artists, artisans and craftsmen began the pains-taking work of cleaning and repairing stained glass windows, recreating stone and wooden carvings from photos, restoring centuries old paintings and murals, and resurrecting the damaged organ—the largest in France. The billion-dollar project was funded in part by donations from all around the world—with 57 million coming from the United States.

And so, taking just a bit longer than Macron predicted, Notre Dame Cathedral was rededicated in December 2024, welcoming thousands of worshipers and curious tourists through her doors.

Photos reveal that the cathedral is lighter and brighter than before. And it truly is restored to its original beauty with attention paid to every minute detail.

Now the gasps are those of awestruck visitors and worshipers attending mass.

Europe is full of amazing cathedrals, Notre Dame perhaps being the most famous, but the Bible reminds believers in Jesus Christ that we are the temple (1 Corinthians 6:19-20), indwelled by God Himself through the Holy Spirit. We the people are the church, not the buildings.

So if our temple needs a bit of restoration, let’s get started. Let’s pay more attention to what we do and don’t eat, lace up those walking shoes, and enter the New Year grateful for the bodies we have and in anticipation of where they may take us next

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

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After a year when so many lost their homes through war or natural disaster, I was especially grateful to decorate the place we’ve called home for almost 10 years and to share it with friends and family. This is where we live and this is home.

Yet another home comes to mind this time of year. The big white house on the hill where I grew up in Tennessee was still there until a couple of years ago. Although the house has been demolished and the surrounding land sold, I can still visit there in my heart and mind any time I want.

I close my eyes and I’m pulling my car up the long driveway and parking between the screened-in side porch and the dogwood tree. As I get out of the car I see my mom looking out the kitchen window where she’s been watching for me. By the time I get to the door she’s rushing to it from the other side, clapping her hands, smiling with her whole face, and calling out, “Nancy’s home! Nancy’s home!”

For most of us, even in the best of times, the Christmas season brings tears. Tears of sadness, tears of joy, maybe tears of gratitude for all we have or all we’ve loved and lost. Each year I tear up the first time I hear Amy Grant’s “Tender Tennessee Christmas.” She sings, I know there’s more snow out in Colorado than my roof will ever see, but a tender Tennessee Christmas is the only Christmas for me.The song connects two states that have been home to me. As a T-shirt I have reads, “I’m just a Tennessee girl in a Colorado world.”

At times, often after I’ve visited Tennessee, I begin feeling that rather than having two homes I don’t have any place to really call home—that geographically speaking I no longer belong here or there.

“First Moment in Heaven,” (c) Christian Photoshops

That’s when the Lord gently reminds me that it’s normal to feel this way, because we won’t truly be home until we are with Him for eternity.

The joys of this past year were many, but we also experienced some devastating losses and far too many memorial services. As we reflect on those who are no longer here experiencing Christmas with their families, we take comfort in knowing that because they were followers of Jesus Christ they are “home for Christmas” in the truest sense.

 

And until we join them, we’ll continue to be grateful for, and blessed by, our earthly homes present and past.

May you be blessed to be home for Christmas this year, and if you don’t know where your true home is, turn your eyes upon the Babe in the manger and the grace and truth He still brings to the world. Merry Christmas!

Grumpy or Grateful?

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Once a week I gather around a table in an assisted living facility nearby with a group of seasoned saints to go over a lesson from The Hope of Glory. This is just the most recent of several groups I’ve been privileged to meet with over the years, but I’ve gotten to know and cherish these ladies in a special way.

As with most volunteer assignments from the Lord, I feel sure I am blessed more by our time together than they are. I breeze in from my busy life with a report on the daily weather or other happenings in the “outside world” about which they are curious, and then we settle down to our lesson. We always close with prayer requests, and this is when the blessings just seem to pour out on the table like so many cups of spilled coffee.

Of course there are the normal complaints about slow service in the dining hall or delayed response times when they push a button for help. We discuss everyone’s latest aches and pains. Concerns are expressed about a prodigal adult child or grandchild, and more often than I’d like, we pray for someone’s illness or impending surgery. Yet no matter what needs we share, before we bow our heads to pray someone always expresses a sentiment of gratitude, and that grateful spirit permeates the room.

“I’m so grateful my son calls me now and we have a better relationship,” Nan reports. “Of course it’s not as often as I’d like, but it’s more than before so I’m grateful.”

“My family is moving me to Kansas to be near two of my daughters,” June announces. “I don’t mind because they are doing all the work and I know it will be a good thing. I’m so grateful for how they take care of me.” With tears in our eyes at losing her from our group, we still share in her gratitude.

“When I think back over the jobs I’ve had in my life, it amazes me that I’m able to live in a place like this,” Myrth reflects. “I mean I never made a lot of money, but God has provided this for me, and I’m grateful.”

All these women have experienced significant losses in their lives. They all have reasons to be grumpy, yet they choose gratitude instead. I’ve learned from them that it’s their faith, their personal relationship with Jesus Christ, which makes this possible.

Design by Bree Miller.

So this week our lesson is titled “Attitude of Gratitude” and our key verse is from 1 Thessalonians 5:18: Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. As I read these words from the lesson, I’ll say a silent prayer that they speak to each of our hearts, including mine:

A grateful heart doesn’t search for what’s missing, but delights in what’s present. A grateful heart expects the best from others, and gives its best in return. A grateful heart forgets what might have been, and enjoys every moment of each new day as it comes. A grateful heart is a prayer of its own—one that fills the heavens with praise!

May we all be less grumpy and more grateful this Thanksgiving.

Falling for Fall Again

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This is a reprise of an 11-year-old post but still sets the mood for the season to come. Happy fall y’all!

Fall is here in all its glory. With each leaf that swirls and floats toward the ground, I’m reminded of what a wonderful time of year this is to make a change. Whether the change is monumental, or so small only you know the difference, it can have lasting benefits. Here are some fall-inspired ideas to get you started.

Fall in to a recliner and just relax for a change. Watch some football. Make sure there’s a big bowl of popcorn within reach. If you really must feel more productive, add a holiday craft project to the game plan. But if you just want to sit and watch football, do it guiltlessly.

Fall out of bed a half hour earlier and take a walk around the block. Soon you’ll be buried under a comforter listening to announcements of wind chill factors and school closings. Take advantage of the cool, crisp mornings to clear your head…and work off some of the popcorn you ate watching football.

Fall in to a huge pile of leaves and just lie there looking up at the blue sky and cloud formations. No leaves in your yard? Show up at a friend’s house with a rake and volunteer to help for the pure joy of having a pile of leaves all to yourself. (Don’t pick your over-achieving friends. They won’t understand.)

Fall out of the habit. You know the one I mean. If you’re still smoking, quit now before you spend another winter shivering out in the cold on cigarette breaks. Not a smoker? Sarcasm can be a habit. So can cynicism. Pick a habit you want to break before the first snow falls, and fall out of it.

Fall in love. If you’re married, fall in love with your spouse all over again. Taking five minutes to make a list of things that first attracted you to him or her is a great place to start. Focus only on those things for a week, and before you know it, you’re head over heels again. No love interest at the moment? Fall in love with an adopted kitten or puppy. Their love is unconditional, and they’ll always be around for a snuggle on a blustery evening.

Fall out of line. I’m not recommending anything illegal or immoral, just out of the ordinary. Take a new route to work. Shop at a different grocery store. Read a book by an unknown author. Be less predictable. No one will really care, and you may find out you’ve been in the wrong line anyway.

Fall in over your head. Immerse yourself in something you’ve only dipped a toe into until now. Maybe it’s a dream, a relationship, a foreign language, or a career you’ve wanted to pursue. Fall is a great time to dive in fearlessly.

It’s fall…time to make a change for all seasons.

Back-to-School Prayer

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It’s happened. The sunflowers in the park where I walk bloomed and the back-to-school photos showed up on social media—two sure signs another school year is off and running.

Each year the timing of this event catches me and others of my generation off guard. How fondly we remember three long and lazy months of summer, with not a thought toward putting on those stiff new jeans or plaid dresses until after Labor Day. Yes, things change, but we can’t help thinking our grandkids are being robbed of a few more precious weeks of summer–more time to just be before they are asked to perform.

What hasn’t changed is how parents and grandparents hope the new school year will be kind to their offspring. We want their minds to be as sharp as those number two pencils in their backpacks and their hopes and dreams to be as bright as the neon colors in that new box of crayons. So we admire the photos, tell them we love them, and pray:

Lord, You know how hard it is for us to send the children we love out in to this ever worsening world unprotected. You see more evil than we do, and You weep when we weep over every school shooting or bullying incident.

Some senior fun!

Go with them, Lord. They need the armor You provide, for our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms (Ephesians 6:12). Equip them, we pray, with your belt of truth (v.14), breastplate of righteousness (v.14) and shield of faith (v.16).

You may have provided new school shoes, but we pray you will also fit their feet with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace (v.15). Give them the helmet of salvation (v.17) to protect them and the sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God (v.17). And Lord, in your mercy, please help each child to have at least one good friend, for as You know, that can make all the difference.

They are yours, Lord. You love them even more than we do. Go with them we pray.

Connection

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The mayor of Colorado Springs, Yemi Mobolade, partnered with community organizations and set a goal for 1,000 neighborhood gatherings in our city in 2024. As of now the city has recorded 453 times neighbors have come together for potlucks, backyard picnics, impromptu sports activities in parks, etc., so we’re well on our way to meeting the goal.

Why? Because connection matters. There is an epidemic of loneliness in our society and our city at the base of Pikes Peak is not immune to this problem. A person can have half a million friends on social media and still feel lonely. Newcomers to town may find it hard to meet anyone. Hard working neighbors come home weary, enter their homes through their garages, and stay inside. There’s no connection.

Studies have proven that feeling alone can lead to mental illness, so our city set out “to encourage neighbors to connect with one another to address social isolation and loneliness.” Each neighborhood event held can then be registered on the city’s website.

The neighborhood we live in had a head start. Every summer our HOA sponsors monthly gatherings in our common area where neighbors can chat and eat together. In June we enjoyed wine and cheese. This month we had an ice cream social. Next month is a dessert gathering. What’s not to like? A few stick-on name tags, some extra camp chairs, and we’ve got ourselves a party.

Could making an effort to connect be the answer not only to loneliness, but to problems like neighborhood disputes and crime as well? Once we know someone, we’re much more likely to work out an issue with a dog or a fence before it escalates, or to keep watch over someone’s house when they are on vacation. As the sense of community grows, so does the feeling that we belong—that we aren’t alone after all. And it starts with connection.

Connection could even help us get through this election season with fewer wounds. Respect for one another’s opinions, and maybe having a second serving of ice cream instead of regaling a neighbor with exactly what we think and why, could go a long way toward closing the huge divide we have in our country now. Since the assassination attempt on former President Trump, both parties have talked about tempering the hateful rhetoric. Maybe they will do so and maybe they won’t, but we can do our part. With God’s help, we can think twice before we speak, use language that is respectful, and love our neighbors as ourselves.

Those who watch The Chosen series get an inside glimpse into the life Jesus shared with His disciples, who didn’t always get along well with one another in case you didn’t know. This disgruntled bunch must have been dismayed when He said as recorded in John 13:34, “A new command I give you.” They had spent their lives trying to live up to all the commandments of the Jewish faith, so they wouldn’t be too excited to hear about a new one. Imagine their surprise when He continued, “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” Love. The best connection of all. And the best way to combat loneliness and isolation in our society.

Savoring Souvenirs

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It’s vacation time again and I’m thinking about all the souvenirs I collected on vacations past. Some I still have and others have traveled elsewhere, but it’s fun to remember them all.

The summer I was 12 my family took the longest, most memorable vacation ever. My dad spent all winter planning the route we would take, every site we would see, every motel we would stay in, almost every meal we would eat. Finally it was time for my two sisters and me to climb into our 1959 white Chevy station wagon, with a grill that looked like a giant steel emoji grin, and hit the road. Our journey took us from Tennessee to California and back in a huge loop through at least 10 states. Adventures and back seat squabbles abounded! But back to the souvenirs.

For years the bookshelf in my room held my treasured souvenirs from that trip. A favorite was a Native American doll from somewhere out west with a real suede dress, headband with feather, and her own metal stand. She was stunning. Next to her sat a three-inch high porcelain oriental doll from China Town in San Francisco. Never mind that I got to see my first stage musical, South Pacific, while in that city. I got to buy an oriental doll in China Town! But best of all, standing next to her was the small bronze donkey with “Pikes Peak or Bust” printed on the side.

Couldn’t decide on just one color so I went with all!

Yes! I bought it at the top of Pikes Peak in Colorado, never imagining that 17 years later I would move to that state and then spend the next 47 years of my life (so far) living at the foot of America’s Mountain. Pikes Peak or Bust indeed!

Without a doubt I’ve spent more on souvenirs from adult vacations, so they may be nicer but not as memorable. I do remember a trip I took to Mexico with my two sons during my single parent days when I purchased souvenir Christmas gifts for all my family back in Tennessee from vendors on the beach. I shipped them all off, but at the last minute I decided that since the boys would be with their dad for Christmas, I would go to Tennessee. I hadn’t imagined actually having to watch my distinguished, always well-dressed, Southern-gentleman dad opening his multi-striped serape from Mazatlan!

A print from our honeymoon in Maui, a sculpture of a Native American man and his wife from South Dakota, and two oil paintings from Taos have always found spots in our homes. I still have silver jewelry from another trip to Mexico, porcelain rabbits from the flea market in Santa Fe, a menorah from Israel, and Murano glass jewelry from Venice. Yet as the years went by and our home got smaller, most of the souvenirs I’ve collected recently are smaller as well—magnets, shells, or post cards for the most part.

Recently we attended a 100th birthday party for a neighbor. Her family displayed a board containing post cards from all the places, all over the world, that she and her husband visited. It was really a display of memories. After all, the memories of each trip we take are the best souvenirs of all. Get out this summer and collect some more!

Also published in The Country Register, July-August 2024.

Is it May?

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I live in Colorado where we might have crocuses peeking through the snow any day in May. But we can rely on the traditions May brings to assure us that while it may not feel like May outside, it really is the month predicted to follow April showers with flowers.

One tradition that was more popular in the early 20th Century than today may deserve a second look—the May Day basket. Thought to have European roots from countries like Germany and England, in this tradition people gather baskets of flowers, small gifts, or baked goods and leave them on the doorsteps of neighbors or loved ones on May 1st to welcome spring and spread goodwill. Also on the first day of May some communities still hold May Day celebrations which include crowning a May queen and dancing around a maypole intertwining brightly colored ribbons. Maybe we should dance our way into May!

Cinco de Mayo also lets us know it’s May even if the weather outside doesn’t seem to agree. A Mexican holiday, it’s widely celebrated in the United States, especially in states like ours with large Mexican-American populations. Sometimes celebrated with parades and parties, the date commemorates the Mexican Army’s victory over the French at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862. It’s a meaningful holiday for many, and a wonderful excuse for everyone to enjoy some tacos and enchiladas.

Of course Mother’s Day is always the second Sunday of May, falling on May 12th this year. This celebration originated in the early 1900’s as a result of the efforts of Anna Jarvis of Philadelphia, PA. After her mother’s death in 1905, she proposed Mother’s Day as a way of honoring all mothers everywhere. President Woodrow Wilson signed a bill to formalize the holiday on May 8, 1914. While it’s reported that Anna was later dismayed by the growing commercialization of the holiday, surely the cards, gifts, and brunches we enjoy today only enhance our efforts to honor mothers.

You know it’s May when you have graduation invitations in the mail or dates to attend ceremonies circled on your calendar. This year we have a grandson graduating from high school and look forward to the pomp and circumstance—and the party!

The month closes out with Memorial Day, observed the last Monday of May and preceded by the weekend that traditionally marks the beginning of summer. But as children are joyfully released from school and the burgers hit the grill, let’s not forget that the meaning of Memorial Day is the solemn remembrance of those men and women who died while serving in the U.S. military. So whether you’re in flip-flops or snow boots, attend the parade, fly the flag, and close out the month of May with gratitude for this country and all those who fought to protect it.

Dogwood Glory

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Do you know the Legend of the Dogwood? It’s just that. A legend. But it does add an element of spiritual significance to our enjoyment of one of the most beautiful trees of spring.

As the legend goes, the dogwood tree was once much larger and stronger than it is today. So large, in fact, that the wood of the dogwood tree was used in the construction of the cross on which our Savior died. Again according to legend, the tree was sad and distraught to be used in this manner. (Can a tree be sad? Well, there is the weeping willow I suppose.) The legend says Jesus recognized the tree’s distress and to ensure it would never be used in such a cruel way again, decreed that from that day forward dogwood trees would be small and slender, often with a twisted trunk.

That’s interesting, but it is the part of the legend that describes the symbolism in the dogwood blossom that may be most worthy of belief. If you’ve ever looked closely at a dogwood blossom, you know there are four petals forming the shape of the cross. The marks in the center of each flower resemble nail holes. The edge of each petal has a darker tinge, symbolizing the blood shed by Jesus when He died on the cross for our sins. I love that part of the legend, so I think of it whenever I see a dogwood blossom. I add gratitude for my salvation to my enjoyment of the blossom’s natural beauty.

In my annual search for spring long before it arrives in Colorado, I often journey to the South in April. This year I was blessed to arrive in my hometown of Knoxville, Tennessee, just as the dogwood trees were at their peak. My sisters and I traversed as many of the designated “dogwood trails” in town as we could. I was always on the lookout for pink and white dogwoods adjacent to one another because I love the contrast. If a blazing azalea bush was nearby, so much the better!

I don’t know if any part of the inspiring Legend of the Dogwood is true, but I do know that God did some of His most glorious work when He created the dogwood tree. To gaze at its beauty blesses me beyond belief in any legend.

This is My King

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Friends, it’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’! Many of you may have heard this classic sermon from Dr. S. M. (Shadrach Meshach) Lockridge (March 7, 1913–April 4, 2000), but there’s no better time to listen to it again. He was the Pastor of Calvary Baptist Church, a prominent African-American congregation in San Diego, CA. Read his powerful words below, then search for “My King” by him on YouTube to hear his awesome, Spirit-filled delivery of this and other sermons.

The Bible says my King is the King of the Jews. He’s the King of Israel. He’s the King of Righteousness. He’s the King of the Ages. He’s the King of Heaven. He’s the King of Glory. He’s the King of kings, and He’s the Lord of lords. That’s my King.

I wonder, do you know Him?

My King is a sovereign King. No means of measure can define His limitless love. He’s enduringly strong. He’s entirely sincere. He’s eternally steadfast. He’s immortally graceful. He’s imperially powerful. He’s impartially merciful.

Do you know Him?

He’s the greatest phenomenon that has ever crossed the horizon of this world. He’s God’s Son. He’s the sinner’s Savior. He’s the centerpiece of civilization. He’s unparalleled. He’s unprecedented. He is the loftiest idea in literature. He’s the highest personality in philosophy. He’s the fundamental doctrine of true theology. He’s the only one qualified to be an all sufficient Saviour.

I wonder if you know Him today?

He supplies strength for the weak. He’s available for the tempted and the tried. He sympathizes and He saves. He strengthens and sustains. He guards and He guides. He heals the sick. He cleansed the lepers. He forgives sinners. He discharges debtors. He delivers the captive. He defends the feeble. He blesses the young. He serves the unfortunate. He regards the aged. He rewards the diligent. And He beautifies the meek.

I wonder if you know Him?

He’s the key to knowledge. He’s the wellspring of wisdom. He’s the doorway of deliverance. He’s the pathway of peace. He’s the roadway of righteousness. He’s the highway of holiness. He’s the gateway of glory.

Do you know Him? Well…

His life is matchless. His goodness is limitless. His mercy is everlasting. His love never changes. His Word is enough. His grace is sufficient. His reign is righteous. And His yoke is easy. And His burden is light.

I wish I could describe Him to you. Yes…

He’s indescribable! He’s incomprehensible. He’s invincible. He’s irresistible. You can’t get Him out of your mind. You can’t get Him off of your hand. You can’t outlive Him, and you can’t live without Him. Well, the Pharisees couldn’t stand Him, but they found out they couldn’t stop Him. Pilate couldn’t find any fault in Him. Herod couldn’t kill Him. Death couldn’t handle Him, and the grave couldn’t hold Him.

Yeah! That’s my King, that’s my King.

I pray you know Him! Have a blessed Easter.–Nancy