Monthly Archives: December 2021

A Song in Mama’s Heart

23 Thursday Dec 2021

Posted by in Love for God

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

We fall down,
we lay our crowns
at the feet of Jesus.

This was the music playing to call our prayer group to worship. Suddenly came a strong vision of my grandmother kneeling before Jesus with her gaze fixed solidly on Him. She saw only the One she had loved all her life and it was if she were the only one in His presence when she placed her crown before His feet. Tears filled my eyes.

It was fitting that during this sacred moment such a strong vision of my grandmother would come. Seeing her with the Lord, giving back to Him the crown He had given her. While on this earth, she lived daily in His presence. She was constant in prayer and song was one of her ways of praying. 

papa, mama, mother, me 1943

With Papa and Mama and my mother. The little quilted-brim sunbonnet would have been made by Mama or my mother.

My earliest memory of my grandmother, Dulcie Cotton Spencer, is of her kneeling beside her bed at bedtime in a white homemade nightgown. Her long braids that she wore wound around her head during the day were loosened to fall down her back at night. Mama prayed aloud. Maybe that was her way of including Papa in the nighttime prayers.

While too many of us have concern for our worldly possessions, how ours are stacking up against others, Mama’s concern was gathering up treasures for the king of Kings. She was instructing us in the word of God, sheltering us in His and her love, providing for the sick and grieving with pots of her famous Chicken and Dumplings, welcoming all into her home without regard for what she had to show. Mama and Papa lived a frugal life, but they always had money to help others — and they helped many. They had their priorities in order.  

Copy of spencer family about 1951

1950-51

Both of my grandparents had an intimate, abiding relationship with the Lord, but it was Mama who kept a song in her heart and on her lips. Every day, all day, Mama sang about the Jesus she loved. Ephesians 5:19 says speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs, and Mama did that. When she cooked, she sang. When she cleaned house, she sang. And when Mama ironed, she sang again. 

Mama Dulcie especially loved songs about heaven. Two of the hymns I remember her singing a lot were When the Roll is Called Up Yonder and Ring the Bells of Heaven. If I close my eyes and sit very still, I can hear her sweet, joyful voice.

Ring the bells of Heaven! There is joy today,
For a soul, returning from the wild!
See, the Father meets him out upon the way,
Welcoming His weary, wandering child.

Glory! Glory! How the angels sing:
Glory! Glory! How the loud harps ring!
‘Tis the ransomed army, like a mighty sea,
Pealing forth the anthem of the free.

Thank you, Mama, for loving Jesus so much and teaching your children and grandchildren to love Him, too. Thank you that you never stopped singing about Jesus. You sang with strong and confident assurance because you knew Him so well. I look forward to being with you again and seeing the mansion Jesus prepared just for you, but for now I sing the song that you sang:

When the roll is called up yonder
When the roll is called up yonder
When the roll is called up yonder
When the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

______________________

I cherish letters from my grandmother. I was not able to be at the family gathering on Christmas of 1986, so she wrote to tell me about it. She closed out her letter with these words: I thank God every day for all my blessings. I know he hears me. I know He heard you, too, Mama, and I’m grateful for every prayer you offered with my name on it. I feel certain I’m still reaping the rewards.

My treasured picture with Mama, 1982, was made by The Jackson Sun when they published an article I wrote about Christmases at my grandparents’ house. Papa had died a few months before.

The Best Christmases of All

15 Wednesday Dec 2021

Posted by in Celebrate Christmas

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Mama and Papa 001There was only one thing my grandparents wanted each year for Christmas—for all their children to be home at once. That was the gift that brought tears to Papa’s eyes and radiance to Mama’s face. All seven children home with spouses and children. I think it was what gave all of us the best of Christmases.

DAY_DADDY_CAME_HOME_FROM_SE - Copy

Their house was humble in appearance. A white frame house Papa had built onto as need required. My mother and I were the reason for one addition. When Daddy went to war and I was just months old, Papa brought us there to live with them. It was a house made for practicality and not show.

At Christmastime, the multi-colored lights on the tree shone through the living room window, beckoning us home. Cars parked on the narrow street up and down both sides for a block. Neighbors never minded; they were invited to join us and some always did. 

Each time the front door opened laughter and greetings of welcome rang out. It was good to be together again. Mama and Papa would stand just inside the door waiting to embrace every family member and friend. Papa would chuckle with delight because his “chillun” had come home. Christmas with Papa 1979 001

Packages were stowed under the tree and dishes of food taken on to the kitchen to help Mama feed the multitude. She had cooked for days and if no one had brought a single thing, there would still have been plenty. After the tree and kitchen visits there was one more stop before joining the men for talking or the women for getting the food ready. That stop was to find Mama’s large blue granite roasting pan. For in that pan would be the one dish we had looked forward to all year—Mama’s cornbread dressing. I guess we just needed a little reassurance that it was there waiting for us.

Christmas at the Spencer’s was for love and sharing and the larger the crowd the better. Boyfriends, girlfriends, in-laws, great aunts and uncles, our pastor and his family, our small town’s highly revered doctor and his wife. Everyone was welcome. We sat everywhere, even in the bedrooms. And the food was like the loaves and fish that Jesus blessed, it seemed to keep replenishing itself.  JIM_AND_DULCIE_SPENCER_001 - Copy

One thing always happened in that house before any meal was had and that was a prayer of thanksgiving. At Christmastime, everyone migrated to the spot where Papa and Mama stood and a hush fell over the house. If Papa said the prayer he thanked God for every person there—and he cried. Papa couldn’t pray without crying because his heart was ever grateful to God for His blessings, and when Papa spoke to the Lord, his love for Him spilled out emotionally.

Money couldn’t buy the blessing of having been born into the family of Jim and Dulcie Spencer. I am indeed rich in heritage. I thank God for giving me two of His finest creations as grandparents and for the many memories of Christmases past on Campbell Street in Medina, Tennessee.

Mama and Papa 1977

Jim and Dulcie Spencer (Papa and Mama) at their house on Campbell Street in 1977. The place we all called home and would rather be than anywhere else.

The seven Spencer children, mid-1980s, probably.
L-R (standing): Tera, Betty Jo (Replogle), Bluford
Front: JB, Louise, (Luffman), Evelyn (Barnes),
Cornelia (Cagle)
Spencer children standing in birth order. The picture was probably made about 1938 or ’39. Louise (my mother), JB, Bluford, Cornelia, Tera, Evelyn, Betty Jo. All deceased except for Cornelia (94) and Tera (92).

This was first published in 2014. I have added a few pictures and am posting it again today in honor of the 30th anniversary of my grandmother’s going home to Jesus. There was never a better woman than Dulcie Cotton Spencer. She witnessed her faith and love for Christ every minute of her life.

Thanksgiving 1982 at my house. She was 82.

The Problem with Assuming

10 Friday Dec 2021

Posted by in Assumptions

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

I am reading an 1800s novel about a man who causes himself great heartache when he assumes something to be true solely based on what he sees. In the story, Larson is badly burned while away from home on business. He survives only by a godly couple’s determined care for his body and soul. He is unable to get word to his wife, Kathryn, and is thought to have died in a snowstorm. Yet his wife never gives up hope that he is alive and will come back to her.

Months later, when Larson is able to travel, he lingers on the outskirts of his rural community’s small town, watching for his wife and wondering if she will accept him back into her life. The burns have left him scarred beyond recognition. He is hesitant to reveal himself to his wife for fear of her disgust and rejection upon seeing him. 

Larson, looking on from the shadows of the small town, sees his wife going into a brothel and assumes she has turned to this kind of life to make a living. They were barely surviving when he left home. He also notices a bulge at her waistline and assumes, rightly so, that she is pregnant. But Larson believes Kathryn is pregnant by someone she entertained. Now he is the one filled with disgust.

Larson’s assumptions were wrong. Kathryn was taking food to a woman in the brothel, a woman she was bearing witness to that God had a better plan for her life. And the baby she was carrying was his, conceived on their last night together. He had not given room for that possibility because, after 10 years of trying to have a baby, Larson believes himself to be sterile.

For quite a while, Larson watches from afar, loving her with all that he is but doubting his ability to accept things as they appear to be. He finds solace for his heartache only when he turns to the Bible the couple had given him. Philippians 4:8 said to Larson, “Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (ESV).

Kathryn had been all these things and when he focuses on these truths, Larson finds peace. God’s word becomes a shelter for him from the harsh winds of his conjecture. When he falters and lets go of God’s wisdom, each time he falls back into assumptions which leads to agitation and anger. He inflicts needless pain on himself by believing what he thinks he is seeing — but isn’t real.

Aren’t we all guilty from time to time? Making ourselves miserable with assumptions? Remember how Jack Webb of Dragnet fame used to say, “Just the facts, ma’am (or sir), just the facts”? That’s still good advice. We can wind up in a place we don’t need to be and find later the destination was completely unnecessary and not on God’s map for us at all. The Message Bible says this in Proverbs 25:8: “Don’t jump to conclusions. There may be a perfectly good explanation for what you just saw.”

Tamera Alexander is an inspired writer, weaving scripture into the storyline exceptionally well. Her book, Rekindled, is a good reminder of many things, but for this blog purpose, it is that we should never make decisions based on assumptions. And, even should our assumptions turn out to be correct, God’s overriding principle is still Love. His word is a book of love. His love for us and how He wants us to love others. We shore ourselves up mightily when we read and practice its wisdom daily.

God’s word is always wisdom.

Prayerful Pondering’s beautiful header is by Mark Hearn, my son-in-law.

Saying Goodbye

02 Thursday Dec 2021

Posted by in Goodbyes

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Goodbyes are especially hard for me. I just don’t handle them well — never have. It’s a part of me I don’t quite understand.

When I took early retirement from a job that I loved, I refused the customary appreciation reception; I simply couldn’t bear to think how emotionally hard it would be. I had poured heart and soul into my job. I knew it was a place that God had brought me to serve Him and letting go was necessary but not easy. Additionally, I asked my staff to treat it as if it were any other day and not say goodbye. I felt it was the only way I could get through it. I slipped out the side door of my office and quietly drove away.

When my 14-year-old kitty had to be put to sleep, I declined the private time at the Veterinary ER with her prior to the moment. I knew when I left home with Chloe that she would not be returning with me, so I had said the things that I wanted to say to her before we left and while we traveled to the point of goodbye. After she had entered heaven’s gates, the veterinarian told me I could have as long as I needed to stay and hold her, but I couldn’t stay. While I was still in control of my emotions, I had to get back home.

I was at my husband’s bedside when he died, when they unhooked him from life support, at the time of his last breath. Again, I was told to stay as long as I needed, but I could not extend that goodbye either. Richard wasn’t there anyway. I saw him go home to be with the Lord. I saw him healthy and happy. So did our friend who was with us. She said the presence of the Lord was so strong in the room that she would never again be afraid of dying.

My manner of goodbye seems to be through hurried escape. It’s my way of surviving the pain, I think. I need to distance myself and be alone. I need to move through the sea of grief and get back to shore where I feel safer. I really don’t think it’s the best way to handle goodbyes, but it’s my way and God understands. He understands because He created me just as I am. I have been told that when we love deeply, with total abandon, we hurt just as deeply. In all three of the events disclosed, I loved in total abandon.

When something ends that has been important to our life as we’ve known it, we lose a part of who we are. A layer of our being is permanently gone and can never be recaptured. What it was will forever be, but we can’t enhance or change any part of it.

A friend invited me to a ceremony of closure regarding the ending of her marriage. Just months after they were married, she learned her husband was still married to not one but two other women. Yet knowing this, she continued to love and mourn him. Her counselor suggested the shredding of their marriage certificate with her pastor, the counselor, and a close friend. We sat in our church sanctuary where she was given time to say anything she wanted to say. She did it without anger, just brief statements of her love, disappointment, and deep sadness. Then she tore into small pieces the paper that had officially bound them. She told me that the ceremony provided the closure she needed and afterward she was able to move on without looking back. That was powerful. I wish I could be like her: get help with grief, embrace it, take action, never look back. But we just aren’t all built the same way. I’ve tried to imagine handling differently the ending of things in my life and maybe I wouldn’t even if I could. So there’s so reason to look back with regret, is there?

There was a wise old sage that I used to quote in customer service training. He was filled with such good advice in the most uncomplicated of terms. His name was Winnie the Pooh. He said this about goodbyes: “How lucky I am to have had some things that make saying goodbye so hard.” So am I. Blessed, in fact. Thanks, Pooh, for making something that I’ve thought complex sound so very simple and clear.

______________

I am so sorry I have confused many with this blog. I am not giving up my blog, not moving, not going anywhere. This was simply meant as a reflection on how I have handled permanent losses in my past.

~~The new masthead is a photograph by my son-in-law, Mark Hearn.~~