Sweet Memories

This weekend our family enjoyed a great meal that has renewed a great deal of sweet memories for me. I fixed peanut butter fudge, chocolate fudge, hot fudge sauce, homemade ice cream, and fresh blackberry pie with blackberries picked from my small patch. My next blog post may need to be on gluttony for sure!

The sweet memories (no pun intended) were focused around the homemade ice cream, hot fudge sauce and blackberry pie. As a child, my family loved homemade ice cream and my dad could make the best I have ever had. I can recall the summers, whether at home or at my grandparents when we enjoyed some of dad’s homemade ice cream. We all helped, my brother, sister and I. At least we all got to sample it and give our opinion as to whether the unfrozen mixture was rich enough. There’s nothing quite like the taste of that mixture.

Then we began the process of freezing the ice cream. I remembered today that we didn’t use bagged ice. We usually froze water in plastic gallon milk jugs. Then we would bust the ice on the concrete or use a hammer. Dad would pour the ice into the mixer and we would watch with great anticipation as the motor churned the mixture into a frozen delight.

My aunt would often make hot fudge sauce and would bring it to our home, especially if she knew ice cream was being made. Funny how something as simple as homemade ice cream could bring families together.

When it was all done the ice cream and the hot fudge sauce was a grand treat. I can’t taste it still and picture those moments in my mind. To say that we ate ‘till we could barely move would be accurate.

We didn’t have blackberry pie, but we always had blackberries from my grandparents. They made the best blackberry jelly. For years I thought it was odd that people would make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with some other kind of jelly.

I can remember picking the blackberries and getting pricked by the thorns, and nearly devoured by the chiggers. But the cost was well worth it once I had a jar of blackberry jelly for my morning toast or biscuits through the years.

I often tell people that memories are a gift from God to remind us of a life lived and a love shared. It’s true. Those sweet memories that linger in my mind are a gift for which I am grateful day after day.

Now, time to get another bowl of homemade ice cream!!!

Pawleys Island 2010

Our family recently returned from vacation on Pawleys Island in South Carolina. It is a wonderful place that provides us with a sense of rest and relaxation that we so long for during the summer. We have been going there for a number of years and all four of us have grown accustomed to the local scenery and establishments.

Each year we have a tradition that begins with a walk out on the beach before unpacking. Feeling the sand between our toes, hearing the ocean waves crashing upon the shore, watching the birds swoop down, and smelling the sea air all fill our senses with the realization that we are indeed on vacation.

After we unpack it’s off to the Piggly Wiggly to get our weekly groceries, or at least enough for a few days. Stops at the Pawleys Island Hammock Shop, the Pawleys Island Mercantile, the Pawleys Island Golf Shop, the Island Shops, and the Lazy Gator are just a few of the stops we look forward to during our time there.

And each evening we enjoy eating out. We have discovered some great restaurants that we visit each year—the Litchfield Beach Fish House, Nance’s Creekside Restaurant, Sam’s Corner (famous for their hot dogs), and the Sea Captain’s are some of our favorite. We added two more to our list this year—Russell’s Seafood Grill and Raw Bar, and River City Café (great hamburgers).

We also play putt-putt at Tupelo Bay and Mt. Atlanticus. David and I usually get in a round or two of golf and all of us enjoy time spent on the beach looking for shells, getting in the water, and enjoying the time away.

There is always the family picture on the beach that reminds us of what a great time we had. So until we are able to get back, I’ll be satisfied with the memory of the sounds of the ocean waves, the feel of the sand, the smell of the sea air and the taste of great food.

Mother's Day 2010

As Mother’s Day comes to a close I have the chance to reflect on all its meaning and significance in my life. Today is a work day for me, a minister. As I began this day and led in worship, my mind was attuned to the necessary elements that had to be carried out—roses and bibles for baby dedication, appropriate remarks for mothers, being sensitive for those whose mothers had died and those who want desperately to be mothers. In over twenty years of ministry many Mother’s Days were spent without me seeing my mother, but always calling her.

So this evening I remember my mother. This is now the fifth Mother’s Day since her death. I miss hearing her voice and reassuring words. I miss her smile that always told me I was loved. I miss her hugs. I miss seeing the thrill in her face when her grandchildren visited. I miss trips to O’Charley’s Restaurant after a doctor’s visit. I miss conversations about what was going on in life and her advice and wisdom that she would offer. I miss her stories of times growing up in a coal mining camp. Most of all, I miss having her around.

There are many stories I recall of my mother—stories that reveal grace, humor, joy, and sadness. I have and will continue to share those stories with my family and friends, especially her grandchildren. Though they knew her for only a few short years, through those stories they will truly know the wonderful mother she was.

So on this Mother’s Day I share a part of an essay written by John Killinger. I have used it for several years and no long remember it’s source. I dedicate it to my mother, Dolores Valentine (1929-2005).

I believe in the love of all mothers and its importance in the lives of the children they bear.

It is stronger than steel, softer than down, and more resilient than a green sapling on a hillside.

It closes wounds, melts disappointments, and enables the weakest child to stand tall and straight in the fields of adversity.

I believe that this love, even at its best, is only a shadow of the love of God . . .

And I believe that one of the most beautiful sights in the world is a mother who lets this greater love flow through her to her child,

Blessing the world with the tenderness of her touch and the tears of her joy.

--John Killinger

A Baby Dedication

I have performed parent/child dedications throughout my twenty plus years of ministry. Usually such events happen on Mother’s Day and occasionally Father’s Day, and sometimes on Sundays closer to a child’s birth. The parent/child dedication I participated in today had quite a unique twist.

First, it wasn’t on Sunday, it was Tuesday. Second, it wasn’t in a church. It took place in a meeting room in a very nice restaurant. Third, a congregation had not gathered. Instead, about a dozen family members came together for this festive event.

But there’s more. Perhaps telling the story more fully will help. When I pastored a church in Prestonsburg my wife and I became close to several families with whom we have kept contact on one level or another throughout the years. This particular family, at the time I served there, had two boys in the youth group. Our families spent time together and enjoyed the friendship that developed.

I received a call from the mother recently that their youngest son had joined the National Guard and his unit was to be deployed following the holidays. She explained that he and his wife had just celebrated the arrival of their first child and wanted to dedicate the baby before he left on his deployment. They wanted me to perform the dedication. Of course, I was honored to be part of this family’s special day and appreciated the opportunity to continue my ministry with them.

We worked out the dates and other arrangements and gathered for the small, informal ceremony that proved to be quite meaningful and worshipful. The baby was adorable, the parents proud, and the grandparents were glowing. As I held this nearly six-month old in my arms and sought God’s blessings and peace on his life I thought of the many ways this baby would need God in the years ahead. As I asked his parents and grandparents to commit to sharing with him the story of God’s love I marveled at the wonderful privilege and responsibility this is.

The ceremony itself was brief. Afterwards we shared a wonderful meal and great conversation, catching up on the time that had passed since we had last met.

I spoke privately with the young man who was soon to be deployed—he hadn’t changed much from the way I remember him as a youth. I inquired as to how he felt for his safety while deployed. He told me that his unit’s assignment was actually among the most dangerous. He is scheduled to be away for one year.

During that time his son will learn to walk, begin to talk, and go on adventures without his dad. And his dad, and his family, will face some daunting challenges—fear, loneliness, discouragement, and the absence of family.

I am grateful for all those who make a sacrifice many of us cannot imagine. Whether we agree with the deployment of troops or not, they certainly deserve our prayers and support as they faithfully serve our country.

Before I left I pledged my prayers for him and his family. And I realized we had done more than dedicate a child. We had helped a family prepare for a husband, father, and son to leave. I hope to hear of his safe return this time next year.

Ordination

Our church, Lexington Avenue Baptist, recently ordained one of our own to the gospel ministry. She spent her adolescent years growing and learning from the caring ministers and members of this nurturing community of faith. She opened her life and her spirit to voice of God calling her into ministry. And she responded affirmatively and confidently to that call.

She is a God-gifted young person who possesses a compassion for those who are hurting and is able to convey the love of Christ through her ministry and her service. I am grateful that she was willing to hear and respond to God’s call upon her life.

I am also grateful to a church that nurtured that calling in her life. That’s part of the work and the mission of the church—to find ways to help others to hear God’s voice in the midst of their lives. That certainly happens in churches everywhere. It requires sometimes that people like you and me open our hearts and our lives in such a way that we can hear—but it can and does happen.

Ministry is about giving your life in service to God and to others. It can be draining and exhausting at times. There are days as a minister when you realize that the work of ministry is never really finished. There can also be days when you wonder if you have what it takes to be of service to others.

Yet ministry is at the same time very rewarding and fulfilling. It brings meaning and purpose to life. And ministry is a reminder that this, whatever this is, is never about you—it is always about God and what God is doing in and through you and others.

Katie Lay-Anderson is and will be a wonderful minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am honored that we had the chance to be part of what God is doing in and through her. Thanks be to God!

Tenth Anniversary at LABC

I recently celebrated my tenth anniversary as pastor of the Lexington Avenue Baptist Church. This wonderful church recognized me and my family with special guests from previous churches I have served and with a very generous gift. It may sound like a cliché, but it really is hard to believe it has been ten years.

In that time my children have grown. We came to Danville with a preschooler and an infant. We celebrated our tenth anniversary with a teenager and a pre-teen. All that is to say that I have aged as well. But that’s another matter!!

In those ten years I have grown as a person and as a minister. I would like to say that I am wiser and perhaps in some ways I am. I have certainly learned to do things I had not previously done.

My ten years have been enriched by a wonderful group of folks with whom I minister. Our church staff is tremendous—and I don’t say that lightly. They are a gifted and called group of individuals. Each of them helps me to be a better minister. And each of them helps our church to be a better church.

Ten years can seem like a very long time. It can also be a time that passes very quickly. But more than anything else these ten years have given me a wealth of memories and stories that I will treasure for years to come.

Thanks be to God for those ten years!

Remembering

Today, October 12th, marks the 27th anniversary of my brother’s death. He was 21 when he died as the result of a car accident. I was 17. That event left me and my family changed in ways we could not immediately see. We continued to live life fully and in time we rediscovered the joy that life brings. David’s life, though short in years, was lived fully and touched the lives of others.

There are those events in life that serve as road markers in this journey. They are not what define us as individuals. Our lives are more the culmination of such markers. Rather, those road markers serve as reference points that help us to better understand who we have become and, perhaps, why we have become who we are. At times, those road markers become the points at which we choose one path over another. At other times those same markers become the points at which a certain path is thrust upon us.

David’s death was all that for me. As I look back over the years I can see the ways in which David’s death and life, and what I learned from that experience, have influenced my life.

I have learned that though we lose loved ones in death, there is much life yet to be lived, and live it we must. I have found great joy and blessings in the continuing journey of life—a wonderful wife, two beautiful children, moments filled with laughter and tears. All of this is a reminder that life is a gift.

There are many road markers in my life’s journey. Each one has had its own unique impact on me. But on this day I pause to remember David’s life and the times we shared together. For that remembrance, I give God thanks.