Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Cinderella Mom

If you think Jesus would have come into your home that day and not issued a strong rebuke to the head of household, you are mistaken. These words of condemnation have been haunting me for days now. They aren’t all that different than the soundtrack I play in my head on an almost-daily basis. It’s…

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This is 40

I am nesting. On Saturday I emptied the refrigerator. Last summer’s homemade pickles in their jars. The bread ends that seem to multiply on every shelf. The eggs. The milk. The fruit and veggies. All of it sat on the floor or the counter as I carefully removed the shelves and wiped them down with…

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Beauty on the Backroads {or Why I Changed the Name of my Blog}

I’ve heard that life is like a highway. And it definitely seems like that sometimes. The pace of life swirls around me at dizzying speeds. We’re all so busy. In such a hurry. Always somewhere to be, something else to do. I’m a get-to-the-point, get-there-quick kind of girl. I don’t like to waste time on…

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Dis-clothes-sure

I’ve come to enjoy hanging clothes out on the line. Some weeks, I wait for a sunny day to do laundry just so I can take the wash outside to let it line dry. When we first moved here, clothesline drying was a necessity. Our rental house came with a washer, but we didn’t own a dryer, so we had to make do with the natural drying abilities of the sun. In time for winter, we bought a used dryer, so our laundry schedule became a little more flexible. Still, if given the choice, I’ll walk the clothes outside to hang up rather than haul them downstairs to the dryer. (Our washer is on the main floor in the kitchen; our dryer’s in the basement.)

In a region full of Amish and Mennonite homes, clothes hanging on the line is a common sight, even in winter. What isn’t so common is openness, and I don’t mean that people here aren’t friendly. The opposite is true, in fact. We’ve made many wonderful friends here. But I’m told, and we’ve been able to observe it as well, that Pennsylvania Dutch culture is quite closed. People aren’t terribly willing to tell you their struggles, their secrets or even to share much about their relationship with God. Come to think of it, I can be that way, too, especially with people I don’t know well or haven’t known long.
What I find funny is that we can’t hide our laundry from the neighbors when we’re hanging it on the line. I try to surround our underwear with rows of T-shirts and pants, but really, it’s right there for everyone to see. I sometimes chuckle to myself when I see a clothesline that is highly visible to the street and has underwear hanging on it. It’s kind of silly, right? I mean, we all know that most people wear underwear, so therefore, at least one load of laundry each week will contain some “delicate” articles. I think it’s just slightly embarrassing to think about them being on display because for most people, underwear is not usually seen.
I think the same is true for our struggles, feelings and even, sometimes, our triumphs. We all know we have them, but because we don’t often see them, maybe we’re sometimes shocked when they’re suddenly disclosed or we come upon someone who isn’t afraid to share them with people. Maybe we’d be more comfortable with people’s personal lives if we saw them more often.
My husband and I aren’t terribly private people. I think he’s drawn me out of that a little bit, although as a writer, it sort of comes with the calling. We’re not afraid to tell you that we struggle or answer the “how are you?” question truthfully if we think you really want to know. In the last year I’ve taken some risks in letting people see some of our struggles and the emotions I wrestle with. It’s scary to be that vulnerable, but I’ve found in it a great reward, too: friendships — new and deepening. And some of the same struggles I’m going through.
While I don’t intend to blab my problems to every person I meet, I am hoping to be more honest and transparent with those in my circles of influence. I believe God puts us through situations and circumstances, difficult ones, especially, not just to strengthen our own faith but to help others with whom we’re in contact. The words of 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 come to mind: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” (NASB version)
May you be encouraged to open up about your struggles with people, and may you never look at underwear hanging on a clothesline the same way again!

Here am I. Send me!

I’m not sure how often you’re “supposed” to post to your blog, but I feel like I’m making up for lost time. So, if these posts are too frequent to begin with, I’ll pray that you don’t get sick of me, and maybe in a few weeks, they’ll be fewer and farther between.

Or maybe they won’t. My husband and I talked about blogs on the walk to seminary yesterday, and I thought about whether or not I should start one. I wondered, Do I have anything worthwhile or unique to say? And I questioned my motives. Did I want a blog just because “everyone else” had one?
But God’s been impressing on me the issue of calling lately. For me, writing is part of that calling, and I’ve been challenged to take that calling more seriously. A few weeks ago in Sunday School, we studied God’s call to Moses in Exodus 3 and 4, and I found myself identifying with Moses and the excuses he gave the Lord. “What if they won’t listen?” “I’m not eloquent.” And I add a few of my own: “I’m too busy raising a child, soon-to-be two.” “I’m at a different season of my life than the other writers I know.” “I don’t have enough experience.”
And God says to me what He said to Moses. “Who has made man’s mouth? Or who makes him mute or deaf, or seeing or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now then go, and I, even I, will be with your mouth and teach you what you are to say.” (Exodus 4:11-12, NASB)

That promise isn’t enough for Moses, who then begs God to send the message through someone else. I don’t know that I’ve ever begged God to do that, but twice in recent memory, He’s shown me that if I won’t write for Him, He’ll find someone who will. In both instances, it’s been through people who would say of themselves that they aren’t writers but felt a burden from the Lord to communicate His message that way. Those were wake-up calls to me to embrace the calling and obey God’s leading to write.
When the prophet Isaiah was called, the Lord asked, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?” Isaiah said, “Here am I. Send me!” Only after he responds does he find out what God’s plan is. Me, I always want to know the details first before I volunteer. Where are we going, Lord? How will we get there? What are we going to do, exactly? But if I knew all that ahead of time, I’d probably never sign up for anything!
It’s scary to say to God, “Here am I. Send me!” But if He chooses us for a task, we won’t regret saying “yes” whole-heartedly. And if we won’t do it, He will find someone else.