Nancy Parker Brummett

Author Writer Speaker

Back Porch Break

Maybe it’s May

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For those who may not know, we don’t really have a spring season in Colorado. As a friend of mine said, what we have is “winter wrestling with summer.” Eventually summer wins, but not without a struggle.

In March I begin to see Facebook posts from friends on the East Coast or in the South showcasing their crocuses, tulips and daffodils bursting with color. Soon the photos are of azaleas, dogwoods and redbuds in full bloom. Should I look up from their photos to gaze out my window, however, I’m more likely to see snow falling—not apple blossom petals, but real snow!

I try to be a good sport, and I’ve certainly been here long enough to know what to expect. The survival rules include not switching your closet over to lighter weight clothes too soon, or holding back a couple of turtleneck sweaters and some heavy jeans if you do. And never taking your coat to the cleaners. You’re just asking for a blizzard if you do that! So we wash the flannel sheets but put them back on the bed. We keep the snow boots in the front closet. We tell ourselves “we need the moisture.” And we wait.

Long ago my husband decided it was best to send me off to a location with real spring rather than to watch my stiff upper lip quivering for two months, and for that I’m grateful. This year my friend Kathy and I took a long road trip to Texas—emphasis on long. Wearily stepping out of the car in Waco, I immediately noticed the rejuvenating smell of green.

The next day we visited Magnolia Market. There and all over town the magnolia trees were in full bloom and the gardens were spectacular. After passing brown fields one after the other in Colorado and New Mexico, we were breathing in spring! Our next stop was to visit our friend Jimmie in Tyler, the rose capital of Texas. She took us to a wonderful rose garden, and we enjoyed seeing everything blooming in her yard and sat by her pool. All together it was the perfect cure for our winter blues.

Of course there are good things about our non-spring, too. If kids on spring break aren’t heading off to Florida or Arizona with their parents they may go skiing. Spring skiing is something to be experienced at least once in life. It’s not uncommon to see girls skiing in bikini tops or shirtless young men in shorts. This time of year at high altitude the sun is warm and the snow is slushy but cold. As skiers near the bottom of the slope the aroma of brats and hamburgers on an outdoor grill wafts up to meet them. Ahh! Not bad at all.

And the spring snow is pretty. During one April snowstorm this year a bright yellow goldfinch paid us a visit just to say, “Don’t worry. Warmer weather is on the way!” Already I see signs that summer may soon have winter on the mat. Our grass is finally starting to green up and the little crabapple tree in our front yard is in its God-given glory. Maybe it is May at last.

In the Garden

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The hymn “In the Garden” has always been a favorite of mine. Whenever I choose it to close out a lesson from The Hope of Glory in an assisted living setting, it blesses the ladies there, too. Faces brighten, voices are raised, and we even come up with a bit of harmony. It’s a beautiful, touching hymn, but I had no idea of its origin.

Thanks to the book Amazing Grace, 366 Hymn Stories for Daily Devotions, I was able to learn the whole story, and I discovered an Easter morning context.

In 1912 when author and composer C. Austin Miles was asked by his publisher to come up with a hymn that would “bring hope to the hopeless,” he opened his Bible to one of his favorite passages in John 20—the account of Mary Magdalene encountering the risen Jesus at the tomb that first resurrection Sunday.

“As I read it that day, I seemed to be a part of the scene,” he writes. “I became a silent witness to the dramatic moment in Mary’s life when she knelt before her Lord and cried, ‘Rabboni!’ (which means Teacher).” (John 20:16) Divinely inspired, he set pen to paper and wrote the poem, “In the Garden.” That same night he wrote the music. Knowing this, I now look at the hymn with a deeper understanding of its meaning. Come to the garden with me as we explore the three stanzas and the familiar refrain.

I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses; and the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses.

What gardens in your memory call out to you still? More important, do you hear the Lord calling you to meet with Him in His garden in the early morning light? He’s available any time, day or night, but it’s so much easier to hear His voice before the activity and noise of the day obscure it. Mary ran to the tomb at daybreak. Surely I can make it out to my chair in our living room.

He speaks, and the sound of his voice is so sweet the birds hush their singing; and the melody that He gave to me within my heart is ringing.

I can’t hear the birdsong outside with our house still closed up from the cold, but from my chair I delight in seeing the birds through the window. Annie, the little orange cat curled up on my lap, watches them with me. I read. I pray. And sometimes I hear His voice in reply. Earlier this week I was praying about what I should write for my Easter post. I heard three words in my spirit: in the garden. Ask and you may hear Him too. If not immediately, then perhaps some time during your day. Trust me. When He speaks, you will know.

I’d stay in the garden with Him tho the night around me be falling; but He bids me go—thru the voice of woe, His voice to me is calling.

How Mary Magdalene must have longed to cling to her Savior by the garden tomb that morning and to abide with Him forever. But it wasn’t her time to dwell with Him in heaven. Instead, Jesus “bid her go” to the disciples and tell them He had risen just as He said. And so she ran to them exclaiming, “I have seen the Lord!” (John 20:18) This Easter, could He be asking those of us who know Him to do the same? To share with others the personal encounters we have had with Him? I believe so.

Now, this beloved refrain:

And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own, and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.

Were sweeter words ever penned? If you’ve yet to experience an intimate moment with the Savior, this Easter ask Him to meet you in the garden—the one He’s placed in your heart. He’ll show up. Will you?

Time to Spring Forward

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Twice a year the discussion comes up about Daylight Saving Time and whether it’s time to do away with it. However, as of now it’s still in effect so most of us spring forward as requested. Sunday, March 12, is the designated day this year.

Newspapers, TV reporters and church bulletins all remind us to “spring forward” and set our clocks an hour ahead as we go into Daylight Saving Time, but you may wonder why we go to the trouble. If setting clocks, sleep disruptions or forgetting the change altogether and showing up at church an hour late seem like unnecessary irritations, consider these little known facts.

First proposed by Benjamin Franklin in 1784, Daylight Saving Time (the officially correct name, not Savings) is adopted in all states except Hawaii, parts of Indiana, and Arizona (except for the Navajo Indian Reservation, which does observe DST). Over the years studies have proven that we save thousands of barrels of oil per day during DST due to decreased use of electricity. More evening daylight also decreases traffic accidents and exposure to the types of crime usually committed after dark.

So although the counter arguments and debates continue, we have to admit there may be some real benefits besides those lazy, summer outdoor evenings we all look forward to enjoying.

Still, if Daylight Saving Time annoys you, think of other ways you might spring forward that you actually enjoy!

Maybe this year you’d like to spring forward down the sidewalk as you take up a new exercise routine. Once around the block is a good start, and by the end of summer you may find out you enjoy walking so much you’re going several miles.

Spring forward into a new hobby. Preferably one you’ve been thinking about for a long time but never made it a priority. Good advice with any new venture is to dip your toe in the water before diving in. Is your new hobby watercolor painting? Take a class at a local community center before investing in a lifetime supply of paints and canvases. You can always invest later once you know you love it.

Getting a start on gardening will help you spring forward toward summer. Even in colder climates seeds or bulbs can be started in windowsill containers and as the tiny shoots begin to grow our hopes for the warmer season to come grow with them. However you spring forward this year, don’t dismay about that lost hour. We get it back in the fall.

First published in The Country Register, March-April 2023.

 

Hope to Go

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I was standing by the pickup counter at Panera Bread while the man behind the counter got the next order ready. “HOPE to go!” he shouted. A young woman named Hope stepped forward to claim her bagged food. As she walked past me I said, “Wow. We could all use some hope to go this time of year!” She smiled kindly at the weird older woman in the Christmas sweater and went merrily on her way. But an idea for a blog post was born.

Hope to go. Certainly hope goes with me every day of my life, but what does it mean to focus on hope at Christmas time? Doing so takes us back to the beginning of the story.

The prophet Isaiah planted seeds of hope in the hearts of the Israelites when he said as recorded in Isaiah 9:6 (KJV): For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. Over 700 years before the Messiah entered the world, Isaiah’s prophecy gave the people hope to go.

At last, the time was near. When Joseph lifted the very pregnant Mary up on to the donkey for the long and arduous trip to Bethlehem, she needed hope to go, so hope went with her. Hope that what the angel revealed to her was true—that she really was carrying the Son of God in her womb. No doubt she also hoped for a smooth delivery, and that they would be able to find a safe place for the birth.

Did her hope temporarily wane as they were turned away by one innkeeper after another? Perhaps. But it came to fruition when one kind innkeeper offered a place in his stable. The babe was born as promised. As she cradled the newborn infant in her arms, she knew her hope had not been in vain. The bright star above them confirmed it. The appearance of the shepherds informed by angels confirmed it. Later the king-sized gifts brought by the wise men confirmed it. Her baby was the long-awaited Messiah.

When the jealous and hateful King Herod ordered all the baby boys under two years old to be killed, surely Mary hoped that Jesus would be spared. Warned by a dream, Joseph packed up his little family and they escaped. More hope to go.

What of us? As we journey toward Christmas we have temporal hope that families will travel safely, that promised gifts will be delivered on time or family conflicts will be resolved. But our hope to go is also eternal hope, an anchor for the soul (Hebrews 6:19).

The familiar Christmas carol O Holy Night! includes the line, “A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” In a world that can feel so extremely hopeless, let’s be thrilled by the eternal hope we have in Jesus. That’s hope to go.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)

‘Tis the Tweason!

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Here we are in the in between. Thanksgiving is over and Christmas is still a few weeks away. So how are we to spend this tweason if you’ll indulge my coining of that word? How can we hold on to the best of the last holiday while eagerly anticipating the next?

Holding on to the gratitude we felt at Thanksgiving is certainly a start. Sure, we are to be grateful at all times. But gratitude is more top of heart when everything we read or ponder has a thankfulness theme. I Thessalonians 5:18 encourages us to give thanks in all circumstances. Not necessarily for all circumstances but finding something to be thankful for in the midst of our situation no matter what it is. Perhaps writing with this verse in mind, Sarah Young wrote in the November 28 entry in Jesus Listens: “I give You thanks, regardless of my feelings, and You give me Joy, regardless of my circumstances.”

So give thanks. When we are able to purchase a gift for everyone on our Christmas lists, let’s give thanks for the resources that make those purchases possible. If a harried shopper cuts us off in traffic or takes the parking spot we were aiming for, let’s give thanks we aren’t going home with a dented fender. Give thanks.

I love that Sarah Young reminds us of the promise of joy because that’s something else that spans the seasons. As we move into the first week of Advent, the time we anticipate celebrating the coming of Christ to the world, we begin a four-week journey that helps us focus on hope, love, joy and peace. All four should fill our hearts and minds during this tweason, but joy can be a part of every week, every celebration, and every memory. I have four friends who have lost their soulmates, their life partners, their husbands this past year. In the midst of their grief, may the memories they have bring joy. Or so I earnestly pray.

Photo courtesy of Pat Crane.

Before we know it this tweason will have passed away and it will be Christmas! Christmas, a time for remembering that out of His great love for us God sent His son to dwell among us. Emmanuel. God with us. May the anticipation we feel now be centered more on Him and less on the harried hustle and bustle to come. During this in between time, let’s set our hearts on the true meaning of Christmas and let the rest be just the colorful trappings of the holiday.

So Happy Thanksgiving, Joyous Tweason, and Merry Christmas! God bless us one and all.

October Surprise?

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News outlets have been speculating about the October surprise for weeks now. I suppose that traditionally politicians and parties save up their most damning information against their opponents for the weeks before an election in order to sway the vote in their favor. Releasing this too soon and people will forget. Release it too late and many will have already made up their minds or voted early. Thus, the October surprise.

So I waited. But unless it happens soon I don’t think we’ll have such an October surprise this year from any side. Candidates spending millions to create ads criticizing their opponents without regard to facts? No surprise. Billionaires pouring millions into races in states in which they have no vested interest other than pushing their personal agendas and causes? No surprise. Suppression of news by cable and social media providers? No surprise. Time-released attacks on influential individuals? No surprise.

Yet I was surprised in other ways this October. On my way home one day I decided to take a shortcut through the neighborhood just down the street from mine. I turned the corner to be overcome by sunlight illuminating the most beautiful row of red maples I’d ever seen. So spectacular was this October afternoon sight that I coerced my husband into going back with me a few days later so I could get a photo before the leaves fell. Still a wow.

Watering my small front gardens one morning, my watering pot and my gaze both pointing down, I saw a bit of pink out of the corner of my eye. Looking more closely I realized it was a rosebud. Then I saw more rosebuds. It was October, yet my rose bush was optimistically planning to bloom again—and within a week it did! What a lovely surprise.

My spirit was surprised this month too. My pastor recommended a book by author Brant Hansen titled Unoffendable. So strongly did he recommend it that he developed a whole sermon series based on it. Hmmph, I thought. What if I want to be offended? After all, there are so many things in the world right now that I find offensive! Don’t I deserve to be offended? To be hurt and angry even? Hmmph. Then I read the book. Chapter by chapter I felt a shift in my spirit. A shift from blame to forgiveness, from discouragement to hope, from anxiety to peace, from anger to love. I hope this October surprise outlives the month.

And so we trust. We pray. We vote. Will we be surprised in bad ways as well as good? No doubt. But through it all we lean on the One who is never surprised by anything. You remember singing about Him, don’t you? He has the whole world in His hands.