Resurrection Hope 

I was partly mad and weepy when we hung up, but mostly hurt. THE BOOK! When would my child ever get over their anger with the memoir I published? 

At first, they supported me as I wrote about our family and the difficult things we went through. I used pseudonyms and published under an assumed name to respect and protect my children’s identities.

“Mom, I know you want to help other parents not feel alone while dealing with their adult children’s messy lives”, they reassured me a year before publication. They had come a long way to reconcile their past and grow into a compassionate and understanding person. We were in a level space with each other…until they read the book. 

I didn’t know they had read THE BOOK until several months after publication. I called them to check up on how they were feeling after my mom, their favorite Grandma, passed just weeks before, and to wish them a happy birthday. I had just crossed the 70 line myself. They were frosty toward me for writing about their failures, and then their words of anger came out. Seeing their unflattering life choices in print was upsetting and I was to blame. 

My writing community teacher warned us that this might happen. In turn, I warned my child that they might be uncomfortable seeing their life in print. The depth of their anger surprised me. I thought I was prepared but I wasn’t.  Attempts to understand their side landed against a wall. It was an awkward hang-up. Weeks passed. Over time, we had several phone calls and a face-to-face visit, and their anger seemed to soften. I forgot that it only goes underground during times of stress.

After our phone call today, I realized they had not reconciled their feelings against THE BOOK and expressed more anger and hurt because “I am still a burden to you and Dad.” Not true on our end!

They ended the short phone call abruptly after crying, “I can’t do this right now, Mom.” Their circumstances have been very trying lately. I do sympathize with them, more than they know.

Yet something unexpected rose in me. I felt indignant.

“Why am I the scapegoat for my children’s inability to have an open discussion about their anger?” I cried to my husband, who heard everything over speakerphone. We prayed for the hurtful words, we prayed for the difficult circumstances.

Many years spent waiting, praying, and crying for them to move on from their blame game rolled up in a sour ball in the pit of my stomach. My soul felt stained with regret; not good enough to be their mom. The old core belief about myself I’ve wrestled with all my life was not dead, just waiting for a ripe opportunity to resurrect.  Not good enough!

The heaviness lifted as I returned to my computer to work on mapping, a part of my writing community curriculum. The lists of my scrapbook timeline events are convenient to help with the assignment. 

"Grandkids stayed overnight, grandkid’s seventh birthday celebration, took grandchild to pirate fest.”

 Did these memories take my mind off my child’s distressing words? Nope. My soul felt heavy again with memories.

But as I decided to move on to something else less triggering, a car drove around our street corner. I looked out my window while a white SUV pulled into a parking space across from our house. Neighbors park in that spot to take a walk around our quiet circle. A younger and older woman got out and came around to the back of the car to open the hatch. The mom pulled a small bicycle out, then a small girl shimmied out of the back with her pink bike helmet on. Grandma and the cute pink-helmeted girl started off talking a mile a minute. The mom opened the back door, walking away with an infant in her arms. 

As they walked away down the street, tears made tracks on my cheeks. Scenes of my grandchildren riding bicycles down our driveway poked through my memory.  Ugly memories untucked themselves and rolled forward in my mind.

I do the only thing I know to do at this moment. Bow low to worship God through it all and remember His rescue, goodness, and faithfulness to our family. I remember how He grew our family through all the ups and downs we went through and continue to go through. And I call to mind the happy times of celebration while the tears roll down. 

I am sweetly assured of being held in the arms of a loving Father, surrounded and protected. And when the challenging times come, He holds our family tighter. The hard places soften and become ground ready for seeds of forgiveness. 

We are forgiven much, loved much, because Jesus forgave and loved us first. Friday is close, but Sunday's comin’! And a familiar phrase from my past rings out, Your redemption draweth nigh. Hallelujah!

 Jesus is risen! He is risen, indeed!

Nancy

March 11, 2025

Today’s word prompt. Do you prefer to read electronic or paper books? Why?

Paper books, mostly. The books lining my shelves reflect my need for organization; topic then author name. The sections reveal favorite authors: Francine Rivers, Mark of the Lion trilogy; C. S. Lewis, Chronicles of Narnia; Bible commentaries, older children’s books from my childhood; A Fly Went By, a favorite. On trips to the bookstore or online book sites, I manage to accumulate more books that intrigue me but remain unread. The unread take up residence on my shelves waiting for hands to hold and pages to turn.  My to-be-read stack is perpetually out of control. 

I’ve loved books and reading since I was a kid. The world around me disappeared into a story different from the one I lived in. Not necessarily unhappy, but more exciting. Until Mom would tear me away and demand that I go outside and play. 

“You always have your nose stuck in a book. Get outdoors and have some fun with your friends”, she scolded.

My childhood was great growing up in the 50s and 60s, but my teen years were full of insecurity. A nice exterior hid my natural shyness. I was okay with ‘going along to get along’. A good story or mystery took me elsewhere, away from an unfriendly outside world into a place of intrigue, romance, and easy solutions with a happily-ever-after ending.

As I left my local library, the weight of a stack of books in my child arms satisfied inside of me. I carried new worlds to explore and people to meet who lived fascinating and tragic lives. The smell, the crinkle of the plastic cover, and the effort to hold them just right so they didn’t slide off one another demanded concentration while I opened the heavy wooden door and walked down the cascade of stairs. I don’t remember who took me to and from the library. Did my parents go into the library with me or wait in the car? If they went inside, I don’t recall them carrying out books to read. No stacks of books sat on coffee tables, just a magazine or newspaper.

In my family home growing up, several inset shelves by our red-brick fireplace were tidy rows of books. Prominent on one shelf was the World Book Encyclopedia set. Uncle Harold, my mom’s brother, taught school during the year and sold World Books during his summer break. Before computers, when we couldn’t make it to the library to look things up or do research on an assignment, World Books gave us all the answers we needed. Information about the world in those treasures fed my longing to travel to China, France, South America, and Antarctica. Travel I did as an adult; Mexico, Canada, Germany, France, Mongolia, and Ireland.

The dictionary, a red Webster’s Complete Reference Dictionary and Encyclopedia was a marvel. So many words to learn and spell. How do you find a word in the dictionary if you don’t know how to spell it to begin with? Sounding out xylophone, which seemed to begin with z, would not get you to the right page!  Fun fact! Did you know that the dictionary was computerized in the 1960s for corporate and university use? 

I don’t remember learning to read. Seems like I could always read books. Do people come out of the womb with the alphabet in their noggin? In first grade, the hieroglyphics of 26 letters and assorted symbols started making sense as we put letters together into words and sentences. In the 1950s, we learned to read from Dick and Jane primers in grade school. Fun with Dick and Jane was my favorite, especially Spot the Dog. The characters also included Mother and Father, little sister, Sally, Puff the cat, and Tim the toy teddy bear. 

“Run Dick run. Run Sally run. See Spot run.”

I was fond of Dick and Sally because their lives echoed by my brother, Rick, and mine. We spent many hours playing board games, marbles across the living room floor and playing teacher and student, cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians. Guess who was the teacher?

Opening a book and being able to read a whole story was an accomplishment. But reading in front of the class was terrifying. Knees knocking and heart-pounding; it was a wonder I got a sentence out without fainting. Sometimes when the words were too hard, I stumbled through as the letters swam on the page, and cried in front of the class until the teacher took pity on me. 

"You can sit down now, Nancy", she said tenderly.

Around 10 or 11 years old, our teacher, Miss Earl, challenged us to memorize part of Hiawatha’s Childhood, a section of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem, The Song of Hiawatha. Even now, 60 years later, I remember some of the verses.

By the shores of Gitche Gumee,

By the shining Big-Sea-Water,

Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,

Dark behind it rose the forest,

Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,

Rose the firs with cones upon them:

Bright before it beat the water, 

Beat the clear and sunny water,

Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.

There the wrinkled old Nokomis 

Nursed the little Hiawatha,

Rocked him in his linden cradle,

Bedded soft in moss and rushes,

Safely bound with reindeer sinews.

Today, my memory is a sieve leaking information but in younger years I could hold these words and worlds to cherise. 

When I travel, the Kindle digital reader conveniently contains a large library. When I buy a pre-order of a new book, I download it. But it will never be a satisfying substitute for a book, pages to flip and the crinkling sound. And oh, that smell of a paper book, especially older books! With time, some things don’t change. I still love to get lost in a good story. 

Happy Reading, to all!

Nancy

How Did I Get Here?

January 23, 2025

I am a couple of chapters into reading a book titled, Soul Care by Debra Fileta. I read through a list of signals for burnout. At the end of the list, I don’t have one box checked which puzzles me. 

This may be because I am a chill personality, but that’s a lie. Ask my spouse. 

Could it be because I am over 70 years old and have learned a thing or two about myself and life? Somewhat.

Or is it the total and complete grace and healing of God through Jesus? Absolutely!

My next thought is, “How did I get to a place of increased confidence and trust in God from a place of being so stuck in unhealthy thinking and behaviors, hidden behind a ‘nice Christian lady’ facade?”  

When I was in my 40s and early 50s, I could have checked off many of Debra’s signal boxes, like:

• Feeling overwhelmed more often than usual

• Feeling alone or isolated, even when you’re with people

• An increase in headaches, digestive issues or heat palpitations unrelated to underlying medical issues

• A nagging sense of failure, self-doubt or insecurity

Do any of these burnout signals describe you today? I was a mess emotionally and spiritually which played out in my physical body. Super busy, super involved and super exhausted. I routinely ate an entree of control issues with sides of insecurity, pride and hypocrisy. 

Do you, like me, need the oomph of the Spirit to move you closer to freedom from self-defeating thoughts and habits?

The theme of Filling In the Blanks: Getting Unstuck From a Life Unwanted encompasses Jesus’s last week on earth. He taught powerful principles to live by as He promised the infilling of His Spirit after He left this Earth. The love He showed to His disciples and the world has the power to fill in our blanks. You can get unstuck from an unwanted life and receive the life of Jesus empowered by the Spirit. 

If you are not a believer in Jesus Christ, read His story and words; and my story of discovery and faith. As you read, your blanks may begin to be filled, along with eyes to see a path forward to freedom. “So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.” John 8:36 (NASB1995) 

A prayer for us —-

Father God, You created us to live an unstuck life - freedom from fear, shame and anxiety; a life transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit. As we read about Jesus last week, reveal Yourself to us, so that we pursue a life of purpose and passion.  Amen!

Nancy

Filling In the Blanks

Getting Unstuck From a Life Unwanted

January 3, 2025

I was physically challenged by the pace and demands of my hectic summer state park job. Off-season at the park was slow with few visitors and reduced office hours. Late Autumn along the western shore of Lake Michigan produced an array of colors until the trees began shedding their once vibrant red, gold and orange leaves. I could breathe, slow down, and drink deeply of God’s beautiful nature and reflect on His faithfulness throughout the changing seasons. 

Dressed for the cooler weather, I walked from the visitor center to the maintenance shed and unlocked the door. The beast was waiting for me to do the morning checkout before I opened the visitor center. If the beat-up diesel Ford got 10 MPG, it was a good day.  I put on a blaze orange vest hanging on the shed kitchen hooks even though deer or turkey hunting was weeks away. Hoisting myself in the truck cab, I fired the beast up and set off.

My first task was to check the vault toilets and replace toilet paper, sweep out the trash, and sanitize the vault toilet. Summer maintenance workers put up with the stink of the hot concrete cubes. The smell was manageable during cooler weather.

On weekends I wasn’t scheduled, I went to church. My friend commented on the disconnect between my church lady-like appearance, and cleaning park vault toilets, and driving a beast of a diesel truck. 

“I can’t see you climbing in and out of that big truck, Nancy.” stated my friend, Jean. “You don’t seem the type that would want to get her hands dirty or tramp around in the woods.”

“I love the outdoor work and feel close to God in His amazing nature and watching the constant action of the waves offshore.”

Jean looked puzzled and shook her head as if to clear the image of me in the outdoors. “Still, the contrast of you in your Sunday best leading worship on the piano and singing doesn’t mesh with your park job.” 

We left it at that but her comments followed me, like a cloud labeled incongruent identity. Who am I? What defined me, what motivated me? 

I stuffed negative emotions. In my 40s, I was physically and emotionally sick. I was playing roles on the outside; but inside, my soul was chaotic with gobs of self-hatred and anger. Through the last several decades, I experienced the healing love of my heavenly Father and the power of the Holy Spirit. He unstuck me, and walks beside me, and lives in me.

Please bookmark this page to follow future chapters and news of progress as I write Filling In the Blanks: Getting Unstuck From a Life Unwanted. 

Thanks and God bless!

Nancy