Between euphoria and sorrow . . .

I haven’t updated this page for over a month, and I think that’s the longest absence I’ve had since beginning Northern Reflections in Autumn of 2008.  Even after surgery and during hospital sojourns I’ve managed to plug in and let readers know that Joe and I are still on the planet.  Why the truancy?  Perhaps for the only time since I began writing at age 9, I simply could not decide what to write.  No, it wasn’t writers’ block.  I couldn’t decide what to write because for weeks I’ve been caught in a wedge between euphoria over this wonderful season, and my ongoing sorrow over the incredibly horrible daily news.

How could I blither on about herbs and perennials when confronted with images of a couple of brothers who blew up the Boston Marathon?  How could I keep posting photos of knitted shawls and hats when we have a president who refuses to admit he was wrong in trying to conceal the fact that the Benghazi disaster was indeed an act of international terrorism rather than a reaction to some stupid video—or for the fact that available aid was withheld from the embassy in Libya?  How can I wax euphoric over balmy days, when the IRS has reportedly targeted special interest groups including those containing the name “Israel”?  (If that isn’t a red flag, then what is?)  How can I write glowing paragraphs about how blessed my husband and I have been in nearly 60 years of marriage and family, when 3 young women in Ohio have suffered approximately 10 years of what amounts to as horrific an experience as many WW II concentration camp stories I’ve read about?

Thus the delay in refreshing Northern Reflections.  But today in church, I received a nudge.  When I get a nudge—this one was more like a hearty thump on the head—while sitting with my open Bible on my lap and listening to a straight arrow message from my straight arrow pastor, I can be reasonably sure that the thump is coming from the Indwelling Holy Spirit of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!  Time to blog.

YES, life is beautiful.  My own personal life is amazingly beautiful, in every way!  (So what do orthopedic issues matter anyway, at age 79?  If I didn’t have them, I’d wonder if I were really alive!)  The Lord has poured His amazing grace upon our family.  The joy and contentment in my home defy description!  Each day I wake up excited to be alive while praying and deciding which of many creative options to pursue that day, if the Lord unravels the time for my creative options.  I always know that He may have other plans for me, and His will is always PERFECT. 

YES, the days are evil.  Human history is rampant with evil.  Only one sinless person has ever walked this earth, the Person of our Lord Jesus.  Yet in America the evil grows more blatant as time passes.  A cloud of widespread evil has shadowed our land in recent years, accelerating it seems since the Autumn 2012 election.  As we reap the bitter fruit of a godless culture, a nation in which God and the truths of Scripture have been discarded as “irrelevant”, we need more than ever to affirm the good, the beautiful, the blessed—while firmly proclaiming that the days are evil. 

Only PRAYER, PRAYER, PRAYER, can reverse America’s collision course.  While savoring the abundance God has provided for us and rejoicing in those freedoms we still have, we need to remember that the days are evil and we could lose all of our freedoms in a matter of weeks or even days.  I take seriously the Scriptural mandate to pray for our leaders.  Yet today in church, with the blog nudge I also received a nudge to ratchet up my prayers for our nation’s president.  

President Obama is AT BEST clueless and incompetent—or AT WORST downright evil!  Did he really find out about the IRS scandal at the same time the rest of us did, or is he lying?  God knows the answer; at this point we do not—at least I do not!  Yet like each one of us, President Obama is a person for whom Christ died to save. 

And if our president is either incompetent or evil (or both!), will “the other” major TV news networks have the honesty and courage to come forth with the unaltered facts?  So far, only one station is telling it like it is—while the others appear to be in a state of denial.  While the truth-telling network addresses the issues of Benghazi and the IRS as wrongs to be dealt with accordingly, the other stations simply cry “GOP Politicizing!”—as if confronting evil were a matter of politics rather than our God-given responsibility!

The evil in our land reflects the sad demise of salt and light in our nation’s churches, once known as “Christian”.  The objective fact of man’s sin and need for a Savior is (most thankfully) addressed in my church—but in countless assemblies that kind of straight arrow preaching has been deemed “political” (or objectionable, or unappealing, or whatever!) and therefore abandoned.  Yet we are still here.  We can pray that the Spirit of revival will sweep our land, bring us to our knees, and bring our churches back to God’s Word.

Here is the nudge, or thump, I received today:  Continue to PRAY, PRAY, PRAY!  Keep informed, keep talking, keep living the Christian life I’ve been given!  These are not optional—they are essential.  Meanwhile, keep blogging.  Keep broadcasting the fact that my life is good.  There is time and space on Northern Reflections for the urgent issues which confront us—and also for herbs, perennials, knitted garments, and my beautiful family!

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

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“They also serve . . . .”

A few weeks ago a kindred spirited friend, Shari—who loves many of the English poets whom I love—mentioned Milton’s sonnet On His Blindness.  I responded with a whopping “YES!”  I hadn’t read that sonnet for years, but I still recalled the poignant last line:  “They also serve who only stand and wait.”  I thanked Shari for the déjà vue, and that evening I located my beautiful antique volume of John Milton’s poems.  Here is the sonnet, followed by an explanation of why it has meant so much to me in recent weeks:

On His Blindness

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg’d with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”

John Milton

 

As many of you know, our daughter-in-law, Rosemary, is facing a stand off with breast cancer.  The first post-op reports were encouraging, but complications have been discovered and both chemo and radiation will be needed.  For certain, 15 years ago (and perhaps as recently as 6!) I would have been on a Denver-bound plane—probably more than one time, to help Rosemary, our son, Karl, and their family during the difficult days ahead.  Sometimes physical issues ramp up so gradually, I had to mentally pinch myself to realize that NO—I probably should no longer travel “to help out”.  

 

I cannot “Hoover” (as they say in England) my own carpets, let alone someone else’s.  Fatigue often renders me useless for purposes other than reading, blogging, knitting, writing letters, or painting after 6:00 p. m.  My 82 year old husband and I are so attached to each other that leaving him alone (even in the company of a sweet Pembroke Welsh corgi) might break my heart (or his, or both)! 

 

We have an amazingly energetic daughter, Debbie, who loves to travel, loves her brother and his family (just as I do), and is incredibly deft at helping most anyone, anywhere!  Debbie has already been to Denver once since Rosemary’s surgery 2 weeks ago, and may quite possibly return!  Thus the re-reading (again and again) of On His Blindness ministered powerfully to my soul which had been considerably troubled by the realization that I’d no longer be flying to Denver, to help out. 

 

“They also serve who only stand and wait.”  And while I stand (sit or lie down) and wait, I pray!  I’m quite certain that Milton did that as well! 

 

Margaret L. Been, ©2013

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A Christmas Miracle

Two doctors, our primary physician and an ENT specialist/surgeon, were concerned about the lump in my neck—concerned enough to set up a complete removal of the lump in the O.R. under a general anesthetic as soon as possible, which turned out to be on December 24th.  After that scheduling was in place, there was even more concern when these doctors learned that I also had another lump in a thigh—and that I’d had a malignant melanoma removed in 2006. before we moved down to Southern Wisconsin.  The ENT surgeon agreed to remove the thigh lump as well.

With all of this concern, I had total peace.  Had the lumps been on one of my loved ones, I would have sorrowed and prayed for healing (if that were God’s will) as well as for the presence of the Lord Jesus to be especially manifested in that person’s life.  But I never pray for “healing” for my own (several!) health issues, and I do not sorrow because of them.  My body as well as soul are committed to the Lord and whatever happens to me is completely in His hands.  I want His will in all events, and I know that His will is perfect.

Obviously, illness and ”death” are according to God’s plan—as well as thriving health and a continuation of life on earth—when “death” means an entrance into the incredibly wonderful Eternity with the Lord.  In His Word God has said, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.”  Psalm 116:15 (NKJV) 

Rather than praying for healing, I always pray that the Lord Jesus will be magnified and glorified in my life and my death—in health or illness.  I love life on this earth, and I certainly am not in a hurry to move on—yet that time has been established in Eternity Past.  I desire to rejoice when it comes.

Meanwhile, I went through the surgical preparations which included a thorough physical, a CT scan, and a stress test (already scheduled for me due to another health issue).  Joe and I checked in for my surgery, and I anticipated getting the whole thing over.  Another pre-surgery prayer which I’d consistently offered was this:  that I’d be able to attend the Christmas Eve service at our church.  But since my surgery was set for around noon on the 24th, I’d resigned myself to probably being a bit “out of it” for the 5:00 p. m. church service.

Just before the IV was to go into my wrist, the surgeon stopped to do a final inspection which would include marking the surgical site with his pen.  Perhaps you have already gleaned the miracle.  The surgeon probed, squeezed, and checked my neck for several minutes—and finally he concluded, “The lump is gone!” 

What a lot of laughter and rejoicing took place in the pre-op room.  Two nurses and an extra surgeon were on hand with Joe and me, and the mass concensus was that indeed this was a Christmas miracle!  Later I did attend the Christmas Eve service with Joe.  Friends were surprised to see me there, as they had been praying about the surgery.  Joe eagerly share the news about our miracle, and there was more rejoicing!

Miracle?  Yes, but isn’t all of life exactly that?  What is more of a miracle than the fact that God took on human flesh, and was born as a helpless baby in a humble stable?  What is more of a miracle than the blood which Christ shed for our sins, at Calvary—and the magnificent victory of the empty tomb.  We serve a Risen Lord, a Lord of miracles!

There is still a thigh lump to be removed.  Since that’s not in a dangerous place for surgery, the thigh lump will be removed in a normal clinic setting.  Yes, I have peace about that one as well.  No, I am not praying for it’s disappearance—or for healing in the event that it would be malignant.  Yes, my prayerful desire is that the Lord Jesus will be glorified in whatever lies ahead!   

Margaret L. Been, 2012

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Christmases Past, Present, and Future

Many of us know by heart, the visitation of three spirits to Charles Dickens’s Scrooge—the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future.  Each year I time-travel in reverse, as I recall our Christmases Past.

The above-pictured familiar drama was performed by three of our children—Laura, Debbie, and Eric—circa 1963.  Other memorable Christmases include: 1) the time when some cars failed to start due to sub zero outdoor readings, and the few cars still running shuttled back and forth between homes— bringing family members to our large gathering; 2) poignant Christmases underscored by the loss of loved ones; 3) an ethnic-flavored Christmas when a Swedish friend brought her children, each bearing a battery candle, to our door in celebration of St. Lucia’s Day—the oldest daughter enacting Lucia; 4) and a fair number of Christmas seasons when nearly everyone threw up.

There was a Christmas when we were especially pinched financially, and I made each child (we had our first five, then) a stuffed animal pillow from pre-printed fabric detailed and shaped like the animal it represented.  The animal I recall most vividly was Eric’s gorilla, because Eric was attached to his pillow for years.  The other gifts that year (an additional two for each child) were necessary clothing items—hats, mittens, or a sweater.  

It was a thoroughly blessed and joyous Christmas!  We had good food, a warm home, warm beds, and each other!  Our family’s happiness never centered around possessions or the lack of them, but rather on the fun of just being together. 

Recent Christmases Past featured:  1) the up-north years, when we came to Southern Wisconsin to visit our family members here and stayed in a neighborhood motel with a lovely warm pool; and 2) that “famous-in-our-family” Christmas of 2010, when both Joe and I had major surgery on December 23rd and spent our Christmas in hospital rooms next door to one another—an accommodation kindly arranged by one of our surgeons. 

Joe had a muscle graft over a 4th degree burn, and was not allowed out of bed, whereas my surgery required that I get up and exercise as much as I could.  So several times a day I shuffled next door with my “dancing partner”—the IV pole—to visit my love.  Our hospital Christmas was indeed special, because of opportunities to share with hospital personnel the WONDERFUL REASON for my peace and joy—serious health issues notwithstanding.

Now in 2012, Christmas Present once again presents a health challenge which in no way detracts from the wonder of the fact that our Lord took on human flesh and came to live among us.  Again I testify that a challenge actually augments the wonder of it all.  Because Christ died to save us, and conquered death to give us eternal life, we can experience irrevocable victory over whatever may be happening around us—or in our bodies.

All of this leads to the fact that Christmas is only part of the story.  Christmas culminates in Calvary and Resurrection.  And there’s more wonder yet to come—when our Lord returns to reign as King of Kings and Lord of Lords.  He will return, perhaps in the year of a not-too-distant Christmas Future.

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As the earth turns . . . .

Except for last minute baking, I’m ready for Christmas.  Tree lights are glowing.  Gift bags, stuffed with presents and labeled according to family groups, are neatly arranged around the tree.  Our out-of-town family members’ gifts (to Colorado, Washington, and California) have arrived at their destinations.  

With approximately 46 family members, Christmas preparations are no small accomplishment.  But, by God’s grace, I’ve managed to do it again.  Online shopping and the plethora of available gift cards have made Christmas traditions incredibly easy.  And it’s fun to shop throughout the year—finding gifts at art fairs, antique shops, and bookstores.  Some of the items have been produced (painted, grown and dried, knitted, etc.) right here in our home.  By December my storeroom is groaning with bounty, eagerly waiting to be wrapped or bagged.  A sense of order reigns.

While savoring the process of preparation, I focus on the Greatest Gift of all: our Lord Jesus Christ and the salvation He has provided through His shed blood, for all who will believe.  God Incarnate died to pay our sin debt, and rose to give us Eternal Life.  Through the Abundant Life of His Indwelling Holy Spirit, we have peace in the midst of turbulent times.

As the earth turns . . . !  Now that may sound like a silly soap opera title.  But the revolving of the earth around the sun, season after season and year after year, is far more exciting than any human meladrama ever imagined!  The revolving of the earth is a God drama, and it never grows old. 

Some individuals are acutely sensitive to the turning of the earth and seasons, and I’m grateful to be one of those people.  In our souls, we actually feel the turning which accompanies seasonal changes in the amount of daylight.  The turning surges in our blood and bones, and we respond with anticipation and joy!

Thus when we plummet headlong toward the darkest day (approximately December 21st this year), those of us who turn with the earth anticipate the very next thing—an increase in daylight which will begin shortly after the solstice.  By Christmas Day, we’ll have gained one minute of daylight.  According to my charts, New Year’s Day will bring an additional 4 minutes!  The sun rises later for awhile after the solstice, but daylight compensates by increasing substantially at sunset.

This after-solstice turning is illustrated by the above photo: a clean palette representing a new year.  Recently I got up in the night, determined to make a fresh start at my bridge table studio.  I really do believe in setting New Year’s goals, because (reasonable) goals inspire me to new adventures.  

My art goals for 2013 are:  1) slow down, deliberate more thoroughly, spend days (or possibly weeks) on a single painting and 2) work bigger.  The sheet of ARCHES 140 lb. cold press paper pictured above is larger than I have successfully negotiated so far.  I’ve tried working on a sheet this size, only to botch up part of it—resulting in cropping and matting smaller renderings from my initial attempt.  Perhaps the goal of slowing down will facilitate a shift in the size of my “masterpieces”.

I know I’ll start in on the sheet and clean palette before January 1st.  When I’ve learned to paint this size to my satisfaction, I hope to graduate to the American standard full sheet of watercolor paper which is 22″ x 30″.  For that undertaking, I’ll outgrow my bridge table and will need to clear off 2/3rds of our dining room table—leaving a commodious 1/3rd on which my husband can relax over his meals.*  (I’ll sandwich my miniscule servings into a space at the edge of my palette—while being careful not to crumb up the work in process.) 

Human goals notwithstanding, only God knows what 2013 will bring!  Someone recently posted the following comment on one of my blogs:  “I think Obama was re-elected so Americans will put their trust in God rather than politicians.” 

A wise statement!  Perhaps this will be the year when our nation returns to the premise on which we were founded.  Perhaps 2013 will be the year when our Lord returns for his own!  God is faithful and He will fulfill His plan as promised in Scripture, as the earth turns . . . !

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

*Praise God, I have a husband who heartily applauds my makey lifestyle.  He has been apprised of my desire to paint big, and he’ll be interested in whatever is going on at his dinner table!  I could set up an art camp in the middle of our living room, and he wouldn’t mind a bit.  But he does have his very own room for lounging in a LAZY-BOY, resting on a daybed if desired, viewing whatever sports are in season, and working at his own paper-inundated computer desk. 

It comforts me to note that some geniuses (among them, reportedly, Albert Einstein!) have had messy desks like Joe’s.  My desks are picky neat, so I’m obviously not very brilliant!  But I never mess with Joe’s space, other than the occasional perfunctory swipe of the woolly duster on his TV screen and around the pictures (my art) on his walls.  

Joe’s room is his domain—although he did buy a comfy chair on wheels which can be rolled out of a corner so that I can join him to watch National Geographic lions, or whatever.  We are highly compatible! 

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Cattle are driven; sheep are LED!

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.  He leadeth me beside the still waters.”  Psalm 23:1-2

During the 1950s and 1960s, my father had a cattle ranch in Nevada.  When they were to be sent to the fattening yards in Missouri and Iowa, the cattle were driven into huge trailers.  With my penchant for Western movies, I pictured an old time cattle drive from Texas to St. Louis—or wherever to wherever else—with a John Wayne type at the rear and cowboys riding alongside to prevent a stampede.

For eighteen years, not so long ago, I raised a small spinner’s flock of sheep.  When it was time for shearing, the trick was to lure them into their enclosure, quickly shut the gate so they could not escape, and then pray they wouldn’t bust out of their shed before the shearer arrived.

Sheep are reputedly stupid.  Bah!  Or I should say, “Ba-a-a-a-a-a!”  Time and again they proved to be smarter than my husband and I were.  If the sheep got wind of the fact that we really wanted them in their shed, they would be impossible to catch.  There was no way we could chase them into their shed.  There was no way we could drive them, the way cattle are driven.  Although they may be herded by a smart border collie, sheep just don’t drive!

The only possible way we could incarcerate our sheep on their beauty salon day was to LEAD them—and then only with the best of grain, with plenty of molasses in it.  Only horse “sweet feed” would do, on shearing day.  Even then, the perceptive creatures seemed to have eyes in the back of their heads, and would nervously skitter back out to the pasture if they sensed that we planned to close a gate behind them.  Stupid?  I don’t think so.  Silly, yes, but very intuitive when intuition is needed.

When we belong to the Lord, we are His sheep.

Life may seem full, but He never drives us.  He makes us lie down in green pastures—and gives us rest. 

Life may seem stressful, but He never drives us.  He leads us with the finest food—the Bread of Life. 

Life may seem hectic, but He never drives us.  He leads us beside the still waters—the Living Water.

Life may seem terrifying and threatening, but He never drives us; He protects us with His rod and His staff.

Life may seem confusing, but He never drives us; He leads us home through the fog with goodness and mercy, and we will dwell in His house forever.

Cattle are driven; sheep are LED!

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

Note:  The above photo was taken by our grandson, Tyler, during his nine months at Capernwray Bible School, New Zealand.

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A Way to Live!

 

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 “Each one of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.”  Philippians 2:4 NIV

What began as one of the loveliest springs I can remember is fast becoming a nightmare of a summer for farmers, and potentially for all of us in the USA, from coast to coast.

At first I viewed the brutal heat and drought through the tunnel vision of my own sweet little garden.  Then we noticed that the local fields of corn were green, yet the plants lacked any sign of developing ears.  My vision expanded to include the farms in Southeastern Wisconsin.  Every day, sometimes twice a day, I watered our yard area and whatever the hose could reach of our neighbors’ gardens—expecting that any night I’d awake to booming thunder, flashing lightning, and torrents of rain.  It always rains in Wisconsin, at least it almost always did. 

As I watered, I began to realize that maybe we were into this weather for the long haul.  It dawned on me that our wells could dry up.  Now I’m watering the garden far less often—supplementing by using plastic buckets for indoor hand washing of dishes and garments, and then emptying that water onto the outdoor plants which seem the most thirsty.

This week my tunnel vision has exploded to realize that our entire nation is about to be affected in some degree by a severe drought. Crisis!  Calamity!  I can’t help but think that the drought may be judgment on our nation, for having strayed so far from our God! 

No longer can my main concern be my sweet little garden, much as I love it.  I must be concerned with the interests of others, as well as myself!  As I was processing these thoughts, the Lord reminded me of something I read about the Scottish, Olympic Gold Medalist runner Eric Liddell—who served as a missionary in China before and during World War II.

In 1943 Liddell (so beautifully commemorated in the award winning film, CHARIOTS OF FIRE) was interned in a Japanese camp—in a part of China under Japanese control at the time.  Although constantly becoming more ill during his imprisonment, Liddell filled all of his time with tending to the interests of others.  He organized games, taught science lessons to youngsters, insisted that food and other necessities be shared with all, and helped elderly inmates in many ways each day. 

In 1945 Liddell died in the Japanese camp, of an inoperable brain tumor.  His loss was greatly mourned.  Eric Liddell was remembered for his cheerful spirit and his eagerness to be of service to others.

During the time of the 2008 Beijing Olympics, Chinese authorities revealed that before Liddell died, he had refused to leave the Japanese camp in a prisoner exchange arranged by Winston Churchill and the Japanese government.  Rather than seizing the opportunity to join his wife and daughters who had taken refuge in Canada, Eric Liddell gave his release to a pregnant woman.

Eric Liddell has provided a magnificent example of the sacrificial life—ultimately modeled for us by our Lord Jesus Christ!  Wherever this drought may take us, I pray that I will keep my focus on the interests of those around me—even those beyond my sweet little garden. 

And most of all, with the spector of a severe drought hovering over us, we must pray for the rain of revival—for our nation to return to God and His Word!  Unlike my garden hose, prayer has no limits.  God’s Living Water is eternal!

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

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“It’s a Wonderful Life!”

Remember the 1946 film by the above name, starring Jimmy Stewart?  I’m not inferring that you were around in 1946, although I certainly was.  But the movie has been shown on TV nearly every Christmas season for years, so you may recognize it.

I’ve been musing on how wonderful life is for many of us, even today when the world is so messed up!  Recent reflections have been inspired by the community of friends I’ve discovered over the past few years, friends through blogging.  (I gave up on the FACEBOOK friends because I just didn’t have the time and energy to keep up!  Younger, peppier folks can go that route.  They stay up later at night!    )

It has dawned on me that my blogroll list is like a magnified trip to the mailbox every day that I go online.  This “trip” includes uplifting reading, and beautiful photos and/or art which someone has been delighted to share—just as I love sharing with you.  

As I enter another Wisconsin winter, sharing is especially precious and comforting.  Wisconsin winter is lovely, scenic, and “breath taking”.  (At minus 10 F, it actually takes your breath away!)  For months I miss digging in the garden and lounging on my patio.  As for lounging outdoors and sipping iced tea in January here, I think you’d regret trying to do it!   

Meanwhile home, family, our corgi, houseplants, and a plethora of hobbies make a huge difference, and winter is a beautiful time for me—despite the long cold months.  Friends mean so much:  friends who live nearby and drop in for tea; friends from far away, who come occasionally. 

And now, the kindred souls I’ve discovered online.  Through these friends I can savor the kind of life Joe and I enjoy, set in the context of a different locale.  That’s really a trip, without standing in line at airports!  For readers who enjoy visiting cyber friends, here is one more kindred spirit that I’ve just added to my blogroll:  Roberta at http://inotherwordsandpictures.wordpress.com/ 

Roberta lives in Southern California.  Ahh, that’s a world apart and afar—even with our Badgers’ upcoming journey to the ROSEBOWL!  But we have a granddaughter, Nancy, living in Long Beach, CA.  Nancy grew up in Washington State.  Now I can read “In Other Words and Pictures” and get a glimpse of Nancy’s new environment.  Roberta writes about things Joe and I love—scenic drives, pleasant restaurants, arts and crafts, antiques and wonderful junk, snail mail, and everything homey that makes for a wonderful life. 

If you visit Roberta, you’ll be very glad you did!  Her site is heartwarming—and much more “warming” all around, than trying to drink iced tea outdoors in January in Wisconsin!

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

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December 7th . . . remember Pearl Harbor, but move on!

Every year at this time, since I began blogging, I’ve commemorated Pearl Harbor with a photo of the disaster.  This year, I can’t bring myself to feature the photo.  Recently, whenever I think of Japan I think of the devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  Necessary from a military standpoint?  Yes!  Unthinkably tragic from a human standpoint?  YES! 

We need to remember history, mainly because we could benefit from learning.  History could provide foresight and wisdom.  But it’s been shown again and again that people do not learn from history.  We may remember history, but we simply play it again.

As Christians, we are commanded to forgive.  Forgiveness is the very core of our faith, and the reason why we are standing here rather than decimated and plowed under by God’s wrath.  Yet there are historical characters whom I cannot forgive in my fallen humanity:  especially Hitler, for his atrocities to God’s people the Jews.  And Stalin. 

And, going way back—Oliver Cromwell.  I read a lot of documentaries on Irish history.  I’m currently experiencing a formidable challenge knowing that I have to forgive the British Empire, not only for its mindless brutality in Ireland but for centuries of power lust and domination in India and Africa.  My husband, always the wit, suggests that I gather up all my English tea and dump it in the harbor a mile from our home.

However when I think England I want to think tea and English country gardens—along with Shakespeare, Jane Austin, Keats, the Brontës, Thomas Hardy, John Galsworthy and other authors too numerous to name.  I want to think our precious English language, and English theatre which (in my opinion) is second to none. 

When I think Russia I want to remember ballet and Tchaikowsky who, tortured as he was in his personal life, left the world a legacy of hauntingly beautiful music.  When I think Germany I want to recall Bach and Beethoven—and the tradition of gemütlichkeit reflected by German Americans in the cultural history of Wisconsin.  When I think Japan I want to focus on centuries of exquisite art traditions:  painting, poetry, gardening.

Every nation on earth has its shame as well as its pride.  Individuals are born sinners.  National shame is sin multiplied.  America is not exempt from national sin.  Just ask the decendants of the Cherokee and other Native Nations who walked the Trail of Tears from the deep South to Oklahoma and points West.  Or ask the descendants of slaves.

There is only One Remedy for sin, and that was accomplished for us at Calvary.  God’s Remedy for sin came to us as a baby, born in a crude and humble manger some 2000 plus years ago.  He is coming again!  “And He shall reign forever and ever!”

Meanwhile I will remember December 7th, 1941.  Remember, but move on!

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

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That Amazing Grace

“In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.”  Ephesians 1:7 NIV

Looking back over a lifetime, I’m overwhelmed!  Looking back a year, I’m overwhelmed.  Even looking back over the last couple of days, I am awash with the sense of God’s presence and His grace!  

Over the decades God’s grace has worked miracles in relationships, in circumstances, and in medical wonders—the most recent being a “whole new pair of eyes” for me via the simplest of all surgeries, the removal of cataracts and replacement of lenses in both eyes.  In times which are obviously “good”, and in crisis times of stress and concern, God’s grace abounds.  Our upcoming month of Thanksgiving underscores an ongoing lifestyle of thanksgiving enjoyed by any and all who understand the reality of God’s “Amazing Grace”!

Blessed with a large family, I share the reality of grace with numerous loved ones.  We laugh and cry, pray for each other, and rejoice in the fact that we are together in all of our joys and sorrows.  Currently we are sharing the prayerful anticipation of two more family members:  1) a new baby girl, Mia, due in December and 2) a new son-in-law-to-be, Sammi, due to arrive from Nigeria.

In 2006, our daughter Martina embarked on a 4 year adventure of teaching at the American School in Abuja, Nigeria.  There she met Sanmi (pronounced “Sah-mi”—the ”n” is silent) and they eventually became engaged.  Now Martina has been back in the USA for over a year and she is teaching in Spring Green, Wisconsin.  In the fall of 2010, Martina and Sanmi began the long process of procuring a fiance’s visa that he could come here to live.  The “powers that be” are thorough, and the process of obtaining a visa can be lengthy. 

Now Sanmi has his visa, and only a few business details remain before he can fly to Wisconsin where he and Martina will be married.  Both of these young people are in their mid 30s.  Neither one of them has been married before.  They have waited a long time for each other.

Needless to say, our family is tremendously eager to meet Sanmi.  Many of us have chatted with him on the phone, but if you have ever experienced a phone conversation to Nigeria you know how spotty and fragmented that connection can be!  Soon we’ll visit in person, and rejoice in the marriage of Martina and Sanmi (pictured below)!

And then we’ll all look forward to welcoming the youngest member of our family—baby Mia.  Amazing grace! 

Margaret L. Been, ©2011

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