There’s a Granny in the House!

John’s mom, Colene Parker, is with us for a few weeks, and it is just lovely.  That’s because we’re just youngsters in our early 60’s, and it’s always nice to have someone about thirty years older —  to care for and enjoy, to talk with and listen to, to take us out of ourselves, and to remind us how young we are.

It’s nice to have peaceable oldsters, vintage treasures you could say.  And if they keep their silver hair done, and their bright pink nails as well, wear plenty of jewelry, and lovely sweaters with their new blue jeans, so much the better.

If they agree with you that your children/their grandchildren are truly the finest folks ever, what else do you need, really?  We have our mutual admiration society, and dissenting opinions/views need not be considered.

It’s true.  Men very often do marry their mothers.  I once would have said my mother-in-law and I have love of John, and our children/grandchildren in common, and not that much else.  But as I study her, I have to reassess.  We both consider ourselves good managers (“not bossy, my ideas are just better”)* We both like music, art, things that sparkle, reading and crosswords.  We think a good time is what we did on the way home from the airport after picking her up Sunday night:  exclaim over all the Christmas lights; wear red and extra eye make-up, talk about blessings, eat and buy Alan Jackson Christmas CD’s at Cracker Barrel.

We made arrangements to meet Hannah (my daughter who is also lots like Colene) at Cracker Barrel.  We talked about the beloveds in our lives, and how perfect it was that Colene flew in the day before the imminent big snow.  I planned (knowing she’d agree) that we’d build a fire and read romances and drink coffee with Peppermint Jo Jo’s the next day.  We enjoyed our little circle of love.

John smiled at me in the mirror as we drove, (Colene sat beside him because it was easier for her to get into the front seat, and as I prefer sitting in back when I can) saying, “Thank you for being nice to my mommy.”

What’s not to like/love/appreciate?  She raised you, and she did a darn good job.

Plus, she likes, and is lots like, that gal in my mirror.  Who can resist?

 

Blessed Hospitality from Two Texans to Me

“You have the gift of hospitality,” said one of my two houseguests.  I thanked her, pleased with her response to my efforts, and immediately began mulling over those words, on one of my mind’s back burners, as we walked into the church.

It was our monthly women’s fellowship, where we were taught about being God’s gardens, and onto another back burner went the words, “We are God’s beautiful gardens.”  Ought I not to have a garden, as gardening is so great a thing, such a picture of God, such a living example of His bounty and beauty?”  Ought I not?  Shouldn’t I?  Or was this constant and yet-again thinking of where I’m probably missing something, only OK if done in a spirit of seeking a yet-higher place in Him, a further childish delight in discovery?

After the meeting one of the women, a farmer’s wife, talked to me about how she was expected in the early years of her marriage to have a big garden, and how she did so for years, but without any joy.

So perhaps that’s it.  Remove the expectations, the shoulds and the oughts, and recover the joy.  Make a garden less like an inlaw-pleasing truck farm, and do what this lady does now, plant what brings her joy – flowers, flowers, flowers.  Oh, and tomatoes.  More joy.

Joy.  This morning I found a guest out in the early morning birdsong on my balcony.  There she sat wrapped in blankets and writing in her journal (a gift the Holy Spirit spoke strongly and repeatedly to me about making sure to provide, complete with pens, pencils and beautiful highlighters).

I asked if I could bring her some hot herbal tea with honey, which she gladly accepted as she asked me if I would like to join her.  But I wanted her to capture her rapture on paper.  She said the air was “divine” and trying to describe the clarity of the golden morning light was something I hoped she could get into her journal, and better done alone.

I told her I might join her in a while, but first I was going to have my Quiet Time.  My “divine” time, and my time to capture some Light – the very light of God, shining in my heart when I put Him first, and minister to His beloved garden next.

“You have the Gift of Hospitality.”  A compliment, and so much more.  During the women’s meeting we all were instructed to give the person to our right compliments.  The woman to my left (who just so happened to be my other houseguest) said I was a woman of great faith.  I simply said, “Thank you.”  But I thought so much more.

What happens when we receive a Holy Spirit-inspired compliment?  In my case, inspiration.  I receive that.  I am a woman of faith.  This is no small response.  In the space of one hour I was told I have the gift of hospitality and that I am a woman of faith.

In two small moments I was humbled by God taking the care and time to speak to my heart through His daughters, and to thereby bind our hearts.  I am grateful to Him and to His messengers.

All gifts.  To me.  The gift of hospitality is one we give ourselves when we do it not as a duty to gain God’s and our own approval, but when and as led by Him, so that He is the author and the finisher of the entire process.

My two guests are now also my friends, and they have brought their blooms and beauties to my garden, as I invited them in by His goodness and grace.

“You have the gift of hospitality.”  Indeed I do.  And I receive the gift.

HEAR MORE ABOUT HOSPITALITY, FREEDOM FROM FEAR, HOW A FEARLESS SIBLING SAVED A PRESIDENT, HARRIET BEECHER STOWE’S THOUGHTS ON HOMEMAKING, WHAT FEMINISM AND MAO HAVE IN COMMON, AND MUCH, MUCH, MUCH MORE TODAY , FRIDAY THE 23RD ON THE HOMEFRONT SHOW AT 2:00 PM MOUNTAIN TIME.

GO HERE:  1360am.co

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