Petals from the Basket

Blog

Lessons from the Heart of a Hospice Caregiver

I’m staring at this blank box on the screen into which I’m supposed to type inspirational, soul-stirring, life-changing words. I’m wondering how, when I feel so stripped of the ability to “have it all together,” I’m supposed to create even a properly structured sentence. My very spirit feels empty, and my ability to cry out to those around me seems fruitless since they are carrying the same burdens and longing for the question marks to disappear and the exclamation points to return.

It’s part of the ups and downs that come when a loved one is in hospice care. Uncertainty surrounds everything: Will my loved one still be here tomorrow? Will this forward progress continue for my loved one and give strength that we didn’t think possible? How can I help my loved one maintain his joy when his daily routine allows for so little movement? What will happen…after? What should I be doing before…? How long will “before…” last? Was that a breath?

For those who may not know, my father began home hospice care on August 20th. (After reading this post, feel free to click here to read updates on his health.) Right about that same time, my mom and I published our Bible study book, But God. So tonight, between the two previous paragraphs (when I was just pouring out my heart with no certainty where my writing would lead me) and the drying of my tears before starting this one, I decided to look through the book again—not as a coauthor but as a reader. As I mindlessly skimmed the pages, I kept simply repeating the title over and over in my mind: But God…But God…But God.

In a subtle demonstration of simply giving up, I closed the book and laid it on the floor next to my chair. It was then that the continuation of the title hit my heart—the heart of one who had actually coauthored the book to encourage other women—and I read the words “Question Mark or Exclamation Point?” In a case of tasting my own medicine, I was reminded that the difference comes in those two little words that wouldn’t leave my mind: But God.

Yes, the question marks will remain regarding what happens next for my father, for my mother, for my family, for our friends, for me—for you. But in the midst of those uncertainties, one exclamatory element remains: But God!

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:26, NIV)!

 

By Petals from the Basket | September 2, 2014 | Events, Family, God-and-I-Time |

A Quick Note from “Auntie Brenda”

I need to get a little “Auntie Brenda” on you again.

Listen, sweet girly, it’s good that he’s busy; that speaks highly of him. But even busy people get to choose what they’re busy doing.

If he’s too busy to be with you now, he will be always be too busy.

Run. Run like the wind.

Your life was planned with a purpose. God doesn’t want you to be treated like leftovers.

You can be assertive (not aggressive). But you’re worth being pursued!

Just read Psalm 139. Trust me—you’re worth it!

By Petals from the Basket | August 29, 2014 | Auntie Brenda (Dating/Singles), Bible Reading, Life Changes |

My Passion—My 5 Little Loaves & 2 Small Fish

Today’s post is another guest post from Samantha Loucks. Samantha is starting her final semester at a Christian University in South Carolina, where, in December, she will complete her major in journalism and mass communication. To learn more about Samantha after reading her post, click here. Welcome back, Samantha!

_____________

I was thrilled to read Brenda’s recent series of posts about defining (and pursuing!) our passions. This summer has led me on a journey of uncovering my passion, and Brenda’s advice helped me create concrete ideas out of nebulous dreams.

And in light of this discovery, God has led me in a journey of faith—one that revealed the little knapsack I’ve been carrying. It’s filled with my own small offering of loaves and fish.

So here goes.

My passion summary statement:

I am passionate about touching lives through words.

What’s my “Big Why”?

I want to use my God-given ability to write, pointing others to the Redeemer, Jesus Christ.

I’ve always had a passion for writing. Even in first grade, I was writing (and illustrating) my own stories in little blank, hard-cover books I bought in the elementary school bookstore. And now I’m finishing a journalism and mass communication degree in December. While in college, I was privileged to serve as editor-in-chief on the staff of our campus newspaper. I love copy editing (which, I guess, makes me one of those annoying grammar Nazis).

And this summer I’ve been immensely blessed to serve as an intern at a women’s ministry where I write the social media teasers for all of the blog posts and radio programs.

Tweets and Facebook posts. That’s my gig. And you know what? I love it.

Why? Because there’s power in 140 characters.

You might be thinking that a little tweet is frivolous, time-wasting, or, let’s be honest—worthless. But those 140 characters are my loaves and fish.

In 140 characters (or less), I’m summarizing the spiritual application that’s in the blog post or radio program. After reading each post, my heart is saying, Yes! Praise Jesus or Ouch!

I’m growing, and I get to, by God’s grace, help others grow too.

Sometimes I forget how important those miniature sentences are. Then I remember who is connected with this content: mothers who haven’t had four hours of continuous sleep in months; young teens, searching for answers; wives, struggling through marriage difficulties; grandmas, wanting to reach their granddaughters; unbelievers, seeking Christ.

Only God knows the eternal impact of those 140 characters.

Here comes the big question:

Is my passion greater than my fear? Brenda asks this question in one of her posts.

The answer for me is…no.

When it comes to my passion, my fears are huge, to the point of debilitation.

What if they don’t like what I write anymore?

Can I have my passion…and make a living too?

Is there a future in this?

Am I really making an impact?

Should I start a blog of my own? What if it fails?

No one wants to read what I write anyway.

This is where faith in the loaves and fish comes into play. In fact, faith is absolutely and undeniably crucial.

In His heaven-written sovereignty, God has given me a bag of loaves and fish: the opportunity to help women thrive in Christ through social media writing. Where will that lead? I don’t know. Does that scare me? Yes. Should it? No. Because God is in the business of turning our tiny offerings—tweets and Facebook posts, in my case—into something glorious, and then some.

He’s done an incredible work by shaping my passion for women’s ministry and writing; do I think He’s going to leave me hanging? By His grace, I pray I never believe that about our God.

What about you? What’s your passion? Will you join me in this journey to protect our passions from being strangled by fear?

Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted.  And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples, “Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves left by those who had eaten (John 6:11–13).

 ____________________

We’d love to hear your thoughts after reading this challenge from Samantha.

Feel free to leave a comment or share your answers to Samantha’s closing questions:

“What about you? What’s your passion? Will you join me in this journey to protect our passions from being strangled by fear?”

 

By Petals from the Basket | August 27, 2014 | Bible Reading, Guest Posts, Ideas, Life Changes |

I Am Grateful for the Day That Never Was

“Any regrets I may have over that which I have lost are swallowed up in relief over that which I have escaped.” ~Unknown 

That quotation has been my annual “mantra” on August 9th. However, I take it one step further and use it to realize that it is because of the goodness and wisdom of God that I can view this day in that way.

Some may read what I am about to share and think that I should “be over it by now.” I am.

Some may read what I am about to share and think that I am in some way bitter. I am not.

Some may read what I am about to share and think that I must somehow despise men. I do not. Unh-unh, no way, no how!

I’m going to share it anyhow—but not to prove anything or to defend myself against those whose thinking couldn’t be further from the truth. I share this because somewhere there is a girl, a family member, a coworker, a friend whose life plans just changed, and I want her to know that she’s not the only one, that joy will come again, and that hope will return.

With my wedding plans nearly finalized for my—you guessed it—August 9, 1986 wedding date, I received a call mid-April that changed everything. The wedding was off, and the reality of an uncertain future loomed before me, taunting me with its emptiness and lack of hope. I had cancelled my contract for teaching the following year (and my replacement had already been secured), and there I was, twenty-five years old, with every well-laid-out plan beyond that minute suddenly erased with the giant pink eraser of “there will be no wedding on August 9th.”

Before I continue, I will be transparent and tell you that it hurt deeply, and that for several months, when I looked at what I was “missing out on,” I was bitter, angry, and, quite honestly, a little ticked off. But when I looked at how God used that one single moment in time to change my life—and my heart—I became grateful, encouraged, and comforted. God knew best. The man to whom I was engaged married not long after, and his wife is the perfect match for him. They faithfully serve the Lord together, and the choice to put an abrupt end to our plans—in the long run and in the big picture—was the right one.

When I was finally able to take the blinders off of my view of things, I saw so clearly that I was in love with love, and he and I both deserved more than that. God’s love runs so much deeper than anything we can “muster up” just because we long for marriage.

Sadly, I primarily received the empty platitude from so many people that I had probably even said more than once myself: “God’s got someone better in store for you.”

First of all, just because he chose not to marry you does not make him a bad person. Though many people use that expression to “console” someone who is sad after a breakup, it’s not a great expression. In fact, it’s kind of tacky and lame to attack “the bad guy” or “the bad girl.”

Secondly, maybe God has singleness, not “someone better,” in store for you. But be careful here. Don’t follow my poor example of saying (as I did more than once at that time) that “I’m never going to get married. No one’s going to ever hurt me like that again.” I feel that I can say this because I’m single, but I can generally recognize the woman who is bitter or desperate because she is so verbal about her singleness—and usually in loud and brash ways, accompanied by sarcasm about the subject. I long to go whisper one simple thing to women like that: “Shh.”

Am I tickled pink about not having an earthly life companion? No, I’m not. Am I thrilled to be exactly where God wants me to be at this moment, in this place? You bet I am! Because His way truly is perfect. God didn’t bop Himself upside the head that April morning of my phone call and say, “Oh stink, I forgot all about Brenda.” He knows what’s best for me. He allowed me to learn things that I would never have known otherwise.

So be careful about the “consolation” you give to others:

“It’s good to be single. Think of all the things you couldn’t do if you were married.” “It’s better to not be married than to be married to the wrong person.”

And on the opposite side, when someone becomes engaged:

“Oh, you’ll love married life. Being married is the best thing ever!” “There are so many more ways you can serve as a married couple.”

Instead, we as the body of Christ need to joyfully serve in whatever way—at whatever time—God has for us. Perhaps what we should simply say (and what we should simply teach our children and those in the church pews) is:

“The best thing you can be is what God wants you to be today, in this moment, in this place. His way is perfect.”

When we view life through that lens, we can, with sincerity and a joyful heart, be thankful for the day that never was because it has been a vital part of making us who were are today.

By Petals from the Basket | August 9, 2014 | Events, Family, Friends, Life Changes |

It’s Time to Be Deliberate—about Life

There’s something about death that awakens us to life. A friend from high school and college passed away quite suddenly last night, and his death created a sense of urgency in me this morning. I wanted today—and all my todays forever after—to be saturated with life.

I have long abhorred the thought of being around those whose primary focus consists of living in the past—”the good ol’ days,” as it were. Oh yes, I thoroughly enjoy revisiting memories, but for me those visits are temporary and merely serve as a springboard of lessons, failures, and successes that propel me into the moment that exists now—today. I want to be open to their teachings, but I do not want to try to rewrite their final exams. I’m grateful for yesterday, but I don’t dwell there. I learn from the joys and the sorrows that it provided for me, and I live intentionally (deliberately) and with great hope in the moments that are called today.

My friend’s death last evening stirred many memories of his kindness, incredible talents, God-focused desires, and compassionate character. But try as I might, those memories cannot bring him (or any deceased individual) back from the joys of heaven, where he is undoubtedly already lifting his voice in worship to His sovereign God. So to try to rewrite “the good ol’ days” would be senseless.

But to learn from his life—to embrace its impact on my own life for those few short years—is to take a step forward: to say, “How can my today be different because of his yesterdays?”

And then the answer comes to me.

My life is a mere vapor: it appears for a moment and then literally vanishes away. The only certainty I have is this moment. Therefore, every moment—moment by moment—must be lived in a way that properly affects not only my todays but the todays of those whose lives mine touches.

No more “someday, I’ll…” or “once I retire, I’ll…” but instead, I must join the songwriter who so aptly wrote of consecration in terms that “bottom line it”:

“Take my moments and my days; let them flow in ceaseless praise.”

Ceaseless starts now.

So this moment has to matter.

_____

Tonight’s post is dedicated to the memory of Don Phelps and to the family and friends he left behind.

By Petals from the Basket | July 17, 2014 | Friends, God-and-I-Time |