My Sister...as written to LaVella Mae

This is just a few slivers of memories. I realized after I wrote it on a whim to LaVella, that I wanted to keep it, just like I want to keep my sister - forever. So I dedicate this to my beautiful sister, Michele. (10.05.09) 

"When I was little, I was Batman and my sister was Robin, even though she was just a baby. We did everything together. Dolls, Play Doh, Barbis, making fake fingernails with Elmer's glue (yes, we did). 

As we grew, she discovered that it was very easy to hide from me and scare me to death - hiding around a corner when I got up at night to go to the bathroom, sneaking up real close to my face as we lay in the dark talking, causing me terror at every turn. (Well, that's an exaggeration, but it sounded cool.) She also never let me borrow her clothes. 

But then we discovered dancing. Not ballet or anything. Just 'rockin' out!' Endless hours were spent with Three dog Night, The Doobies, The Commodores, Earth Wind and Fire...and our endless collection of 45s. Back in the 70s, we had ALL the moves. And she had the Farrah Fawcett haircut. We played softball together - cuz we could throw and hit as good as the boys, football, foos ball, and spent hours laying in the sun (cuz that's what silly girls did in the 70s). 

There’s not much else to say. She never did let me borrow her clothes without a fight. But we were and are sisters to the end. No one else would ever have rocked out to Van Halen in flannel pajamas with me and shared hopes, dreams, and secret loves in the bedroom we shared until high school. Sisters are the best. But I don’t need to tell you that. 

Have a lovely day, LaVella Mae."

Thoughts On Autumn

Autumn reminds me of our life in Christ. 

It is the season of change and anticipation...and preparing to die. With the memory of the life and victory of summer still warm, we rest and revel in the change of seasons; the refreshing coolness that hints of winter. 

Oh winter! So harsh! But also that place where our Father's faithfulness is proved; where all that must, dies. Yet death has no eternal sting for the one who is found in Christ, for He will breathe life into the muck as winter thaws - that awkward time of drab and damp. 

This is where the waiting seems eternal, yet so much is happening in the deep places of soul and soil. Can we wait for it? Will we hope for that new spring and summer yet unseen? And then, not holding too tightly, yield again to autumn?

Autumn is a time of thankfulness for blessing and bounty, and of knowing that we cannot bask in the glories of this life, these works, and these revelations forever. He is always doing a new thing. Autumn is here. We were never meant to live in perpetual summer. 

Only the seed that falls to the ground and dies bears much fruit.