Hopefully, Ken and I will be going to south Alabama the first of the week -- if my bronchitis clears up enough by then -- to check out an area that my agent wants me to use as setting for a novel. She now has two of my novel manuscripts which she's trying to place with publishers. One is a contemporary set in central Alabama where we live, and the other is historical set partially in this area and partially in South Carolina. I'm looking forward to exploring the possibilities in this new area of our state, and writing the proposal for the book. Then I have to finish the proposal for a nonfiction about living with chronic illness.
I'm also working on a couple of articles with my new pastor, and trying to place an article on the work of our local pregnancy resource center and a young woman who works there.
These little problems with lupus, or things related to the disease, keep popping up to slow me down. But evidently God is not through with me yet, or He would not keep giving me all these writing assignments, or all these people in my life to love. I say God because I feel that it is He who called me into this work and this ministry and who gives me the ability to do them. And it is He who gives me my wonderful family. A new great-grandson is due next week.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Saturday, January 5, 2008
The Lord is Working
If anyone has checked on my posts lately, they probably think that the Lord has been a very long time working on the situation I talked about in the last post, since it was dated August 5, 2007 and titled "Waiting for the Lord to work."
He hasn't been a long time working, though. He actually began working very quickly - had already started working on the situation even before I posted the last time. Someone who lived in our community and attended our church several years ago, saw one of the evening news stories about the church property being put up for sale, left the t.v. to sit in the bathroom and cry for thirty minutes, then got up and made a call that put the ball to rolling. The person they called, called someone else, and this person talked with their spouse who made a call to a church leader the next morning offering a large sum of money to help pay off the building loan so the church could continue to operate at its present location.
Since that time, our pastor has resigned to begin a different type ministry in another area, taking a core group from the congregation with him. The congregation is now regrouping and continuing to minister in the community where it has been ministering for over a hundred years. The congregation is small for the time being, but we still have a group of people, youth and adults who are excited about our potential for growth and ministry to a mushrooming community. Our "new" children's program has fewer children than a few months ago, but the ones who are still here are excited about it -- and about their new teachers.
We are not yet seeking a new pastor while trying to get reorganized and get some new Boards and Committees in place. But we have been having some very good speakers from a nearby Bible college, from some of our other churches in the state, and now some ordained ministers from our own congregation are on the schedule for this month. We do need some singers and muscians, though. A talented young lady is leading the music, but she needs some help with it.
But we can see evidence all around us of ways the Lord has been working and ways that He still is. Exciting things are happening. And as I ended the last post (and told the reporter): "We don't know what the Lord might decide to do" NEXT. For, as the Bible tells us, His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts higher than our thoughts. (Isaiah 55:9)
He hasn't been a long time working, though. He actually began working very quickly - had already started working on the situation even before I posted the last time. Someone who lived in our community and attended our church several years ago, saw one of the evening news stories about the church property being put up for sale, left the t.v. to sit in the bathroom and cry for thirty minutes, then got up and made a call that put the ball to rolling. The person they called, called someone else, and this person talked with their spouse who made a call to a church leader the next morning offering a large sum of money to help pay off the building loan so the church could continue to operate at its present location.
Since that time, our pastor has resigned to begin a different type ministry in another area, taking a core group from the congregation with him. The congregation is now regrouping and continuing to minister in the community where it has been ministering for over a hundred years. The congregation is small for the time being, but we still have a group of people, youth and adults who are excited about our potential for growth and ministry to a mushrooming community. Our "new" children's program has fewer children than a few months ago, but the ones who are still here are excited about it -- and about their new teachers.
We are not yet seeking a new pastor while trying to get reorganized and get some new Boards and Committees in place. But we have been having some very good speakers from a nearby Bible college, from some of our other churches in the state, and now some ordained ministers from our own congregation are on the schedule for this month. We do need some singers and muscians, though. A talented young lady is leading the music, but she needs some help with it.
But we can see evidence all around us of ways the Lord has been working and ways that He still is. Exciting things are happening. And as I ended the last post (and told the reporter): "We don't know what the Lord might decide to do" NEXT. For, as the Bible tells us, His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts higher than our thoughts. (Isaiah 55:9)
Sunday, August 5, 2007
WAITING FOR THE LORD TO WORK
Wow! Was last week busy! Tiring but exciting.
The first thing Monday morning (I don't know how she heard about it so quickly) a reporter from a Birmingham television station called our pastor, asking to come out and do a story about our church property that had just gone on the market. The pastor was on his way out of town for an appointment, so they set up the interview for the next morning.
Then he called me about being in on the interview because I've written quite a bit on the history of the church, its founders and the community. The reporter was interested in the history because of the age of the congregation and our little, white frame building which sets across the road from our large brick facility along the main thoroughfare through the community.
The congregation had decided to put it up for sale because the loan on the new addition that was added to the brick building a few years ago, plus overhead, was eating up our finances. And we needed more money with which to do actual ministry.
The news about the potential sale had created quite a bit of interest in the community and among families who no longer attend church or have moved away. And now the news media had become interested.
On Monday afternoon a reporter from a second major television network in Birmingham called me about doing a story. She'd been unable to reach our pastor and someone had given her my phone number. She wanted to talk to both of us.
When she called, two ladies were at my house to pick up copies of my local history book and stayed to talk history and genealogy. After they left, I began trying to help the reporter reach our pastor, but was unsuccessful.
I had told my pastor and the reporter that I didn't want to be on television, but they could use the church history from my book. I also copied, for both reporters, a couple of articles I'd written with more up-to-date information on the church history.
On Tuesday morning, my pastor came by the house to pick up the information for the reporter who was on her way out with a photographer. I reiterated to him that I didn't want to be on television, especially since my hair looked a mess. I had an appointment that afternoon to get it cut.
I told my daughter what I'd told them about being on television. Then recalled the time about 15 years ago when someone suggested that I have a television reporter come out and do a story about a drama we were doing about the church history for our 90th anniversary celebration. I didn't want to do that, because I knew that as the writer and director, I'd have to be on television. At that time, I was on high doses of prednisone for an acute attack of lupus and was so puffed up from it that I looked like the little cartoon "Dough Boy" from television commercials.
"See, Mom," she said, "If you had done that, it would have probably brought lots of people to the church who would be coming there now to help with finances."
She said it in a teasing manner, but her words spoke to me in a real way.
"And I let my pride get in the way," I said. "Like I'm about to do again."
So, when my pastor called, saying the reporter and photographer wanted to come by my house and talk to me about the church history, I agreed -- messy hair and all.
Then, when he called awhile later, saying the reporter and photographer from the second station were coming out to do a story, and wanted to talk to me, too, I changed my hair appointment to
the next morning and met them at the church.
That evening the stories were on one channel at 5:00 and the other at 9:00 and 10:00. They created some excitement right away, and now we are waiting to see what happens next.
As for the rest of the busy week, there's too much to try to tell it all right here right now. There was annual campmeeting at our state campgrounds for our churches from all across the state; more people calling to order my book and talk history or coming by to pick up books and talk history; trips to doctors' offices and other medical facilities; a birthday dinner for my grandson.....
But the one thing that keeps coming back to me is a remark I made to a reporter, without stopping to think about my answer, when she asked what I think might happen next. "We don't know what the Lord might decide to do," I said.
For, as the Bible tells us, His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts higher than our thoughts. (Isaiah 55:9)
The first thing Monday morning (I don't know how she heard about it so quickly) a reporter from a Birmingham television station called our pastor, asking to come out and do a story about our church property that had just gone on the market. The pastor was on his way out of town for an appointment, so they set up the interview for the next morning.
Then he called me about being in on the interview because I've written quite a bit on the history of the church, its founders and the community. The reporter was interested in the history because of the age of the congregation and our little, white frame building which sets across the road from our large brick facility along the main thoroughfare through the community.
The congregation had decided to put it up for sale because the loan on the new addition that was added to the brick building a few years ago, plus overhead, was eating up our finances. And we needed more money with which to do actual ministry.
The news about the potential sale had created quite a bit of interest in the community and among families who no longer attend church or have moved away. And now the news media had become interested.
On Monday afternoon a reporter from a second major television network in Birmingham called me about doing a story. She'd been unable to reach our pastor and someone had given her my phone number. She wanted to talk to both of us.
When she called, two ladies were at my house to pick up copies of my local history book and stayed to talk history and genealogy. After they left, I began trying to help the reporter reach our pastor, but was unsuccessful.
I had told my pastor and the reporter that I didn't want to be on television, but they could use the church history from my book. I also copied, for both reporters, a couple of articles I'd written with more up-to-date information on the church history.
On Tuesday morning, my pastor came by the house to pick up the information for the reporter who was on her way out with a photographer. I reiterated to him that I didn't want to be on television, especially since my hair looked a mess. I had an appointment that afternoon to get it cut.
I told my daughter what I'd told them about being on television. Then recalled the time about 15 years ago when someone suggested that I have a television reporter come out and do a story about a drama we were doing about the church history for our 90th anniversary celebration. I didn't want to do that, because I knew that as the writer and director, I'd have to be on television. At that time, I was on high doses of prednisone for an acute attack of lupus and was so puffed up from it that I looked like the little cartoon "Dough Boy" from television commercials.
"See, Mom," she said, "If you had done that, it would have probably brought lots of people to the church who would be coming there now to help with finances."
She said it in a teasing manner, but her words spoke to me in a real way.
"And I let my pride get in the way," I said. "Like I'm about to do again."
So, when my pastor called, saying the reporter and photographer wanted to come by my house and talk to me about the church history, I agreed -- messy hair and all.
Then, when he called awhile later, saying the reporter and photographer from the second station were coming out to do a story, and wanted to talk to me, too, I changed my hair appointment to
the next morning and met them at the church.
That evening the stories were on one channel at 5:00 and the other at 9:00 and 10:00. They created some excitement right away, and now we are waiting to see what happens next.
As for the rest of the busy week, there's too much to try to tell it all right here right now. There was annual campmeeting at our state campgrounds for our churches from all across the state; more people calling to order my book and talk history or coming by to pick up books and talk history; trips to doctors' offices and other medical facilities; a birthday dinner for my grandson.....
But the one thing that keeps coming back to me is a remark I made to a reporter, without stopping to think about my answer, when she asked what I think might happen next. "We don't know what the Lord might decide to do," I said.
For, as the Bible tells us, His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts higher than our thoughts. (Isaiah 55:9)
Monday, July 16, 2007
FAMILY REUNION
(Photo right: Part of today's crowd at the Pike/Folsom Family reunion. Shelba stands on the end of the front row left in white pants. Her husband Ken, in pale yellow shirt, stands behind her. Photo by V Jon Nivens.)
(Photo left: Grandma Brown's birthday celebration, July 1918.)
It's been two weeks since Ken and I went to the annual reunion of his maternal grandmother's branch of the family. During this time, we have looked again and again at the pictures from the reunion, and still have trouble figuring out who belongs with whom. That's probably to be expected, though, since over 200 people come, and we see most of them only once a year.
The annual gathering began around 90 years ago with Ken's great-great grandmother's 82nd birthday party. Although she died three years later, the celebration continued. Today, people gather from across the country for the two-day event now known as the Pike/Folsom Family Reunion.
"Grandma Brown" (Jemima Adaline Pike) was born on July 10, 1836 in Heard County, Ga. to William T. Pike, Sr. and Bethenia Reeves Pike. She maried Hillary H. Brown, who was born in 1830 to George Brown and wife Keziah.
By 1850 Jemima Adaline and Hillary were living in Randolph County in East Alabama. Sometime before the Civil War they built a home near Roanoke at a place called Rock Mills. This is where they raised their three children. Or rather, it's where Jemima Adaline raised them. Hillary was killed in the Civil War when their youngest child, Bethany Talitha, was less than two years old. He died in Elmira, New York December 13, 1864 and was buried in the Woodland National Cemetery.
Bethany Talitha married John Franklin Folsom, son of Floyd Fretwell Folsom and Elizabeth Mary Sanders Folsom. Floyd Fretwell, son of Rachel and Benjamin Folsom, was also in the Civil War. Bethany and John lived with her mother, Jemima Adaline, in the Brown home and they, too, raised their children in this house. Later, Floyd, a son of Bethany and John, made his home here. Thus, the place became known as Uncle Floyd's house.
For many years family reunions were held at Uncle Floyd's house. Today the house stands vacant and is in need of repairs. Reunions are now held across the hollow at another old family homeplace.
Children of Bethany and John Folsom also included Ken's grandmother Jemima, who married Elra Kendrick of Shelby County in Central Alabama. Ken recalls many trips across the mountains and streams (many times crossing Coosa River on a ferry) as a child, to visit the people at the old homeplace in East Alabama. He has many fond memories of family reunions at the old Brown/Folsom homeplace, where he climbed a chinaberry tree near the long dinner table so he could see all the dishes of delicious fried chicken, homegrown vegetables and desserts and point out to his mother what he wanted to eat. The first time I went to one of these gatherings it was at this house the summer before Ken and I married.
The place where we meet now was once the homeplace of one of John and Bethany's children. One of their grandsons, a veteran of the Viet Nam War, owns the place and has made renovations and additions to accommodate the many friends and family members who visit. Each summer before the reunion, he mows several acres of grass, making room for camping, parking, games, tables and chairs.
Family members bring guitars and sound equipment for "pickin' and grinnin'" sessions on Saturday night and Sunday afternoon. One cousin who owns a recording studio, and writes and sings his own songs, composes songs commemorating the lives of deceased family members and past reunions. He makes DVDs of music and photos of ancestors and past reunions for people to watch on TV while sitting inside to cool off. And they can thumb through picture albums that other people bring to share.
The little kids and teenagers seem to enjoy the reunions as much as the older folk do. They ride horses, wade in the branch, go on treasure hunts, join the singing, play softball and horseshoes and romp in the weathered barn.
The day of the reunion always seems to be the hottest of the summer. As we sit on the long front porch or under a century-old tree fanning ourselves, we think and maybe even voice aloud, "I don't think I can do this another year."
But the next summer, as July rolls around, we think about all the hugs and smiles, good country cooking and music, and the folks who may not be around to make it to the reunion next year. So we cook, pack lawn chairs, guitars, cameras, photo albums and food in ice chests and hampers, and head out again. In the long run, we know it's worth it.
I just wish I had remembered this while my children were growing up, and taken them to Pike/Folsom Family reunions.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
PREGNANCY RESOURCE CENTER INSPIRES AND EQUIPS
I'd heard a lot of good things about Save-A-Life, but until I visited one of their Pregnancy Resource Centers I had no idea what an amazing array of services the organization offers. And all for free.They provide not only pregnancy testing, but consultation with a medical professional. The center where my daughter Joni and I conducted interviews and make pictures for a magazine article, has two registered nurses on staff.
(Photo: Rachel shows items in the Center's "Baby Boutique.")
(Photo by VJon Nivens, rebelchase@juno.com)
Classes are offered at the Center on pregnancy, parenting, healthy relationships, lifestyle issues and related concerns, and are oftentimes attended by the fathers as well as the mothers. This particular center also offers a Bible study class, which some of the parents attend even after the baby is born -- bringing the baby with them. And in which, participants have accepted Christ as Savior.
The centers also offer mentoring and emotional support and resources and referrals for medical care, housing and other social services. And, although they do not provide abortions or make referrals for them, they do offer post-abortion counseling to women who have already chosen to have an abortion.
The local center we visited, also provides free ultrasound services. But, as Rachel, the Bible Study teacher, told us, one of their most popular features is their "Baby Botique." This is a room where the parents "shop" for new or used baby items with "Mommy Bucks" (tickets they receive when attending classes at the Center).
And the parents and babies are not deserted after the babies are born. They can continue to attend classes and can shop for baby items in the Botique until their babies are a year old.
Funds for these centers come from donations -- both monetary and material -- baby showers and banquets hosted by churches and other groups, an annual "Walk" and other fund raisers.
One young mother said that the "Mommy Buck" program helped her get a crib for her baby, while she received a lot of valuable information about pregnancy and childcare.
"Everyone is wonderful," said another. "And I look forward to being here."
All the workers my daughter and I met -- teachers, counselors, office workers, nurses -- appear to be as excited as the young mothers about all the things that take place at the Center. As were Joni and I.
And I agree with the young woman who said, "It has inspired me to keep the faith." For now, when I hear about all the bad stuff going on in our society, I can think about Save-A-Life's Pregnancy Resource Centers and know that there is also a lot of good going on out there.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Screams in the Night
“Learn to live with it.”
How many times have I heard that through the years? Too many to count.
And that’s virtually what the orthopedic surgeon said today that I would have to do. Unless I want him to practically make me two new feet, which would involve whacking several toes in two, removing the joints and inserting steel rods.
Did I actually hear him use such gross terms? Well, almost.
Anyway, I decided I’d bear with it awhile longer. At least I have medication right now that stops me from waking Ken -- and myself -- with screams of pain.
The first couple of times that happened, Ken shot straight up in bed. “What’s the matter? What’s the matter? What can I do?”
There was nothing either of us could do to stop the electric-shock feeling that shoots through my toes and causes me to wake us both with my screaming. So, I finally went to see my doctor about it.
I hate taking pain pills, and feel blessed that I have had to take so few these many years that I’ve lived with autoimmune diseases. Of course, I have plenty pills for other things. So many that I get embarrassed -- and broke -- having so many prescriptions filled. But when I mentioned this to my doctor, she said, “Well, they are all for things related to your lupus.”
So I swallow my pills, take my lung and eye treatments, pull on my shoes with custom-made insoles and thank God for giving humans the ability to develop treatments for all these ailments that befall us humans.
Take prednisone, for instance. I realize that it was God who saved my life during my severe illness when I was first diagnosed with lupus. But I feel that prednisone was one of the things He used to do it.
Now, if He would help these humans to stop charging so much for what He’s helped them develop, we would be able to buy our pills and groceries, too.
How many times have I heard that through the years? Too many to count.
And that’s virtually what the orthopedic surgeon said today that I would have to do. Unless I want him to practically make me two new feet, which would involve whacking several toes in two, removing the joints and inserting steel rods.
Did I actually hear him use such gross terms? Well, almost.
Anyway, I decided I’d bear with it awhile longer. At least I have medication right now that stops me from waking Ken -- and myself -- with screams of pain.
The first couple of times that happened, Ken shot straight up in bed. “What’s the matter? What’s the matter? What can I do?”
There was nothing either of us could do to stop the electric-shock feeling that shoots through my toes and causes me to wake us both with my screaming. So, I finally went to see my doctor about it.
I hate taking pain pills, and feel blessed that I have had to take so few these many years that I’ve lived with autoimmune diseases. Of course, I have plenty pills for other things. So many that I get embarrassed -- and broke -- having so many prescriptions filled. But when I mentioned this to my doctor, she said, “Well, they are all for things related to your lupus.”
So I swallow my pills, take my lung and eye treatments, pull on my shoes with custom-made insoles and thank God for giving humans the ability to develop treatments for all these ailments that befall us humans.
Take prednisone, for instance. I realize that it was God who saved my life during my severe illness when I was first diagnosed with lupus. But I feel that prednisone was one of the things He used to do it.
Now, if He would help these humans to stop charging so much for what He’s helped them develop, we would be able to buy our pills and groceries, too.
Friday, June 22, 2007
SOMEBODY SPECIAL
My husband, Ken, and I recently attended our brother-in-law Ed’s sixtieth-birthday party in Florida -- on his fifty-ninth birthday.Five months before the event was to take place, my sister Jan emailed telling me what she and their children were talking about doing. “We know he’ll be expecting something big for his sixtieth,” she wrote. “And we want to surprise him for that, so we figure the best way to do it is to give it a year early.”
Later, we had email from both of her daughters telling more about plans for the party, and about rooms that were being reserved for out-of-town guests at a local marina and resort -- on the beautiful Emerald Coast of Florida’s panhandle -- where the party would be held. Excited about their plans, Jan and the girls had a great time shopping and making arrangements for food, decorations and entertainment, while trying to keep everything hidden from Ed.
On the day of the party, they told Ed that the family -- their two daughters, their son, the three spouses and their granddaughter -- were meeting for dinner at their favorite steak house. That morning, while the women decorated the party room, a son-in-law lured Ed off to Destin for lunch and to shop for fishing gear. As they dressed to go out for dinner, Jan told him, “Tom (mine and Jan’s younger brother) is in town and going to eat with us, but we need to stop by the motel where he’s staying so he can follow us to the restaurant.”
When they, their younger daughter Katie and her husband reached the motel at the marina, Katie glanced at her watch with a big sigh. “Christy (her sister) was supposed to meet us here,” she said. “But you know she’s always late. Why don’t we go in to the bar and wait for her.” At the front desk, she told the receptionist, “We’re going back to the bar and wait for my uncle and sister.”
In on the plot, the woman answered, “Sure. Just go to the end of the hall there and turn right and you’ll see the door to the bar.”
As they walked away from the desk they heard a man behind them say, “I didn’t know you had a bar in here.”
Later, Ed said with a laugh, “I didn’t know it either, but I’ve learned that when I’m out with Jan and the kids it’s better just to go along with whatever they say instead of asking questions.”
With all the talk that goes on when family members are together, he paid little attention anyhow to what was going on around them. So when they opened the door at the end of the hall to shouts of “Happy Birthday,” he was surprised to see around fifty of his friends and family members from across Florida and Alabama converging on him to hug his neck, shake his hand and record with cameras the shocked expression on his face.
The room was elaborately decorated. A friend, formerly in the catering business, had prepared barbeque, which was served with all the trimmings. Pecan pies, baked by a niece from his mama's recipe, were served along with a decorated birthday cake. A DJ supplied taped music from Jan's and Ed's courting days. A friend sang and played jazz on his saxophone while another sang old country love songs karoke style.
“I can’t believe all these people came all this way and went to all this trouble and expense for me,” Ed said. “You’d think I was somebody special, or something.”
“You are somebody special,” someone said.
And I agree. Ed is Somebody Special. We are all somebody special. So special that God carefully planned, then formed each of us individually before we were born.
“…(You) created my inmost being,” said the Psalmist. “You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made….” God weaved us carefully together with great plans for our lives as he was forming us (Psalm 139:13-16).
Yes, we’re all special people. When we're feeling down on ourselves, or looking down on someone else, we need to remind ourselves that God made each of us special. And we need to find ways to show others how special they are. We don’t have to go to all the trouble and expense that so many people went to in order to wish Ed a happy sixtieth birthday--on his fifty-ninth-- but there are all sorts of little ways we can show it. Like a phone call. A card for no special reason but to say “I think you’re special.” A smile. An encouraging word. A glass of iced tea served on a hot day to someone just coming in out of the heat.
Speaking of iced tea, maybe I should get up from the computer and go take a tall glassful to my Somebody Special, who’s working out in the yard in the heat.
(photos by V Jon Nivens, rebelchase@aol.com).
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