The Work of Our Hands

Psalm 90:17 "And let the beauty of the LORD our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it."

Are you like me and have lots of old linens stashed away in your attic or closets?  Okay, probably not!  Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong era.  I love old things, especially needlework and quilting from my mother and grandmother's generation.  All those tiny stitches come together to paint a canvas of thread.  Having done a few pieces of my own, I know the hours required to create the embroidery designs on napkins, pillowcases, sheets, and hand towels.  Our predecessors lovingly made linens for their own, or a beloved daughter's, hope chest.  Before electricity, I'm sure there were strained eyes while tatting or crocheting dresser scarves, doilies, and table runners by lamplight.

It's embarrassing; I literally have dozens of cloth napkins.  Until I started to corral them all in one place, I didn't realize how many.  How that happened, I am not quite sure.  They just seem to call my name at yard sales and vintage shops...."Rescue me, Laney!".  You know, I just have to oblige. 
Not only tablecloths, but I also have vintage doilies, tablecloths, tablerunners, and pillowcases.  Many were hand-embroidered by my mother.  As I run my hand over the stitches, I connect with her and envision a life so far removed from mine.  She never worked outside the home, but you would never find a harder worker.  Her hands did not know idleness, and I am proud to have been her daughter. 

Compared to my mother and grandmother's life, I am pampered and spoiled from hard work.  I can flip a switch and my home's rooms and yard are flooded with light.  The turn of a knob or push of a button is all that's required for heating up the stove top, oven, or microwave.  I don't need a root cellar or have to buy ice in order to keep food cold.  I have a refrigerator just steps away.  Trips to the bathroom don't have to be planned ahead--depending on the weather outdoors.  Running water comes from a faucet instead of a well bucket or trip to the nearest creek.  My washing machine and automatic dryer is inside.  My grandmother heated water in an iron pot in the yard for washing clothes.  I would imagine the expression "laundry day" was literal, not figurative.  Both she and my mother hung their clothes on a line--even in cold weather.  Although I do have a garden, I don't have to grow, catch, or kill the food I eat.  Most of it comes from the grocery store.

Since life was so hard, I imagine that is why beauty was so important to the women of the past.  Although their creations were mostly utilitarian, they are also lovely to look at.  Do we still have the ability to create beauty with our hands?  I know we have the ability to learn, but do we have the desire?  Youthful, nimble fingers and thumbs might find a more useful purpose than creating text messages, don't you think?  The result just might be amazing enough to be appreciated by the next generation.


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

        

    

Rainy Days and Wednesdays...

Yuck...it's raining again.  It seems that every time I have plans to go to the Carousel Horse Antiques, it rains.  Actually, it has rained three out of my last five visits.  Joyce probably dreads seeing me coming since I seem to always bring rain.  People usually don't like to get out and shop when it's raining...at least I don't.

On days like today, it's nice to find a good book and curl up on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate or flavored coffee.  Unfortunately, within ten minutes, I have usually read the same paragraph over about four times and have started checking my eyelids for leaks.  Sometimes picking up a book is the best cure for insomnia.  Crack open a book and pronto, I'm sleepy. 

I haven't always been this way.  In my past, there have been plenty of all-nighters.  I have frantically glanced at the clock, then said to myself, "just a couple more pages and I have to stop".  Sadly, those "couple more pages" ended up being the entire book.  At four in the morning, I suddenly realized I had to get up for work in two and a half hours.  Now I have plenty of time to read books, but I haven't...no excuses offered.  They would be lame excuses, anyway. 

It's amazing how I can justify or rationalize just about anything.  I read a devotional yesterday on Proverbs 31 Ministries website (see, I do still read).  The author talked about the difference between busyness and empty busyness.  It's kind of like calories and empty calories.  Although apples have calories and offer energy and good nutrition, I am more likely to choose Little Debbie Chocolate Peanut Butter Wafers as my snack of choice.  They have plenty of calories, but offer little in the way of nutritional value.

The same goes with my busyness.  I can find lots of things to keep me busy, (Craig's List, Ebay, Facebook) but at the end of the day have I really accomplished anything?  For accountability, a to-do list is a good way to keep my empty-busyness in check.  Without a plan to follow, I usually don't accomplish much.  Sometimes we just need to be reminded that God has a plan for us, and He is interested in every aspect of our lives.  He's interested in what I eat, what I say, what I do, what I think....the list is endless.  Ephesians 5:15-16 says, "Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil."  I needed to be reminded that I am accountable to God for what I accomplish, or don't accomplish today.  Maybe you needed a gentle reminder, too. 

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
   

Pumpkin Patch

Fall is such a fun time of year.  The colors of the changing leaves are such a beautiful mix of green, orange, yellow, red and brown.  Even though the weather is still warm during the day, the nights are beginning to chill down.  The first of October marks the opening days of corn mazes, hayrides, and pumpkin patches.  I have always loved big orange pumpkins.  Years ago before orange pumpkins were at every grocery store and roadside stand, we used to drive two and a half hours to Asheville to get an orange pumpkin every October.  Back then, almost all of the pumpkins around Charlotte were yellow...which just wouldn't do! 

I remember once when the boys were about five and one, we took them to a pumpkin patch.  There's no cuter photoshoot opportunity than children against a backdrop of orange pumpkins.  I took lots of pictures of them climbing among the pumpkins that day.  It was years before the invention of digital cameras, and cameras used rolls of film.  Somehow the roll of film was removed from the camera, got mixed in with a load of dirty laundry, and made a trip through the washing machine.  I was devastated since the pictures couldn't be replaced.  Although I wasn't at all hopeful, we sent the roll of film to be developed.  Although the pictures weren't great, they did survive.  I still smile when I look at those pictures of long ago.  They remind me of the sudsy bath the film endured.  More importantly they represent a fun day spent with our sons...a special memory frozen in time.

Friday we took our three grandchildren to a pumpkin patch about four miles from our home.  They each wanted to pull their own red wagons to gather pumpkins. We also trekked through the corn maze...forging our own path.  Our granddaughter is a fearless explorer at heart.  She led the way as we tromped through the corn stalks.  Along with the corn maze and pumpkin patch, there were chickens, pigs, goats, cows, a donkey, pony, and a horse. 

Picking pumpkins was interesting.  My grandchildren are just as particular about their orange pumpkins as their Grandma Laney.  We put pumpkins in their wagons, only to replace them a few feet down the path when a better one was found.  Our oldest grandson, who's three, was upset that the pumpkins didn't have faces.  I guess he thought they grew that way.  Being a grandparent is such a blessing...fun without the responsibility of parenting.  The love in my heart for those three precious little ones feels no different than what I feel for my own sons.  It's amazing how the wellspring of love never goes dry; it continues to bubble forth with each addition into our lives.

On Friday, I captured the memory of another special day at the pumpkin patch with our entire family, both in pictures and in my heart.

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
  

God Is Strong Enough

My former pastor, Dr. W. Jack Hudson, used to say, "When God squeezes your heart, tears flow out of your eyes".  Well, my heart has been squeezed dry recently.  It's so difficult to know that those we love and care about are hurt, grieving, and stressed beyond comprehension and we are helpless to "fix" or make things better. 

There are times when all we can do is plead for God's Holy Spirit to surround them with his unfathomable love, peace and comfort.  Human words are oftentimes useless when trying to express the depth of our compassion and empathy.  If only heart-hurts could be comforted as simply as kissing a  tearful child's "boo boo", or if a Hello Kitty band-aid could bandage a wounded soul.  Our feeble attempts at comfort pale in comparison to God's comfort for His children.  Give your burdens over to the arms of our Saviour, Jesus Christ.  He's strong enough... 

Psalm 126:5 - "Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting."

Psalm 30:5 - "For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for a lifetime; Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning."

Isaiah 66:13a -  “As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you;”

2 Corinthians 1:3-7 - "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. For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ. But if we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; or if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which is effective in the patient enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer; and our hope for you is firmly grounded, knowing that as you are sharers of our sufferings, so also you are sharers of our comfort.

Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

Click below for Matthew West's song:

     Matthew West - Strong Enough

German Chocolate Cake & Starlight Mints

Yesterday, October 5th, would have been my father-in-law, J.C.'s, ninety-second birthday.  I still miss his smiling face and lip kisses...a mere peck on the cheek just wouldn't do.  If you shook hands with him, beware!  He had a bone-crushing "real man's" grip.  Those weathered, calloused hands weren't afraid of hard work.  When anyone asked about the partial finger on his right hand, he laughingly called it his "mustard spreader".  He caught it in a piece of machinery at work and lost the tip of his right middle finger.  A little accident didn't slow him down.  There was always a project going on out in the workshop.  The workshop is now quiet; his tools are dusty and rusty...missing him.

Pop was addicted to Starlight mints, one of his few vices.  He carried them in his pocket and always pressed one into my hand every Sunday morning at church, 'cause he knew I love them too.  He was not afraid to stand up for what is right, and he wouldn't mince words about it, either.  You will never find a more loving and faithful husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, or friend.  Although he was my father-in-law, I was never treated as anything other than a "daughter in love".

Just in case we celebrate earthly birthdays in heaven, Pop, please save me a place at the table next to you.  I want a big piece of Margaret's German chocolate cake and a Starlight Mint.


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney

Treasure in Jars of Clay

My best friend and I are starting Vicki and Laney's Treasures at Carousel Horse Antiques, Collectibles & Used Furniture at 612 W. Main Street, Locust, NC.  We chose vendor number 47 to represent 2 Corinthians 4:7, the cornerstone for our business venture.  The verse says, "But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that this all-surpassing power is of God and not of us."

There is plenty to be accomplished and my house is turned upside down right now.  For years I have thought I would love to have a vintage, antiques, collectibles, or craft booth.  After I retired my friend and I learned about Carousel Horse and started praying about the possibility of starting our own business there.  When we first inquired, there were no booth openings available, but we were told there was a possibility of an opening the first of October.  We had our heart set on a certain booth, but when we got the call on September 30th that space was available, it wasn't the one that we wanted.  Not wanting to pass up our chance, we agreed to take the space.  On October 1st, while we were waiting for the occupant to clear out his merchandise, the shop owner said the booth we originally wanted became available that day.  We were so excited!

I can hardly believe it! I have always loved to shop antique malls, thrift stores, estate and garage sales. I am a bargain hunter at heart. To get started, we plan to sell some things from our personal collections, plus some summer purchases made with a shop in mind.

This afternoon when my husband got home from work, we went to Carousel Horse, about 40 minutes from our house.  We only had two hours before the store closed, but since we are a good team, we were able to get our 10 by 10 space painted in just over an hour.   If all goes according to plan, we hope to be open for business in about a week to ten days. 

It shouldn't amaze me that God loves us enough to work out the minor details of our lives.  He promises in Psalm 37:4 that if we delight ourselves in the Lord, He will give us the desires of our heart." 


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney   



  

A House Not Made With Hands

While I sat on the beach last Tuesday enjoying the beauty and tranquility of the ocean, a family I know discovered their little boy has a life-threatening illness.  The gut-wrenching fear and uncertainty his parents face can only be understood by someone who has experienced a similar event.

Almost thirty-three years ago my husband and I were elated at the birth of our first child.  The first weeks as new parents was exciting, but frightening since our baby wasn't thriving as expected.  Our pediatrician didn't seem too concerned that our baby hadn't regained his birth weight at four weeks.  He was also annoyed when his dinner plans were interrupted at Christmas by two worried parents.  His instructions were only to change from breast milk to soy formula.

At around five weeks, I noticed our baby's complexion seemed tanned and his face had the look of a wizened old man.   My good friend who was moving out of state dropped by to say goodbye.  While she was there, she was frightened when she saw his condition.  After hearing of our experiences with the pediatrician, she immediately called a friend who was a nurse at another pediatric office.  Although the main pediatrician was not taking any new patients, she was able to get an immediate appointment for us with his young associate, just out of medical school.

At the appointment I began to describe symptoms to the new doctor while he examined our son.  When I mentioned his skin color, he told me it was definitely jaundice, not just a dark complexion.  He pressed on his abdomen and began making pen marks.  I later learned he was marking the margins of his greatly enlarged liver.   

Hospital admission quickly followed.  Our lives turned upside down as events spiraled out of control.  In 1978, there was no WebMd or Internet to search medical terms and treatment options.  The suspected diagnosis was either biliary atresia, or congenital hepatitis.  Biliary atresia is fatal for infants without surgical shunts or liver transplants.  Liver failure can occur with congenital hepatitis, and the only medical treatment available was rest and good nutrition.  Surgery was required to make a diagnosis, but we were not facing good options either way.

I consciously tried to hold my emotions in check except when I was alone, but one night I fell apart when a young nurse commented on how well I was doing.  My husband and I were twenty-four and twenty-five years old, totally unprepared to face the huge mountain before us.  We were both physically and emotionally exhausted.

Physicians and medical students streamed into the hospital room each morning, went over medical charts, then stood in the hallway discussing options I didn't understand.   I cried while blood samples were squeezed from tiny heels.  While wearing a heavy lead vest, I also cried while holding his little arms and legs still for x-rays.  I cried when he wasn't allowed to have formula for an entire night and part of the next day.  His pacifier was his only comfort.     

I begged God for healing, but peace just did not come.  Then one night as I read my Bible, I found 2 Corinthians 5:1 which says, "For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."  The meaning became clear for me.  If our son did not survive, I could be comforted to know he would be cared for and loved in God's house.  Broken, I told God how much I loved my son, but if He needed him more, I was willing to give him up.  If he allowed him to live, I promised to raise him for God's service.  I didn't know a lot about the Bible, so I was surprised to later realize this was the same prayer that Hannah prayed when she so desperately wanted a son.   

The night before surgery, the older pediatrician (who was not taking any new patients) prayed with us in the hallway outside our baby's hospital room.  We gave permission for administering an experimental radioactive dye during surgery, knowing an adverse reaction could prove fatal.  Surgery would last about forty-five minutes, with only a small incision, if bile ducts were present.  If there were no bile ducts, surgery would last several hours, with a large incision, while shunts were inserted.  I carried our son to the doors of the operating room.  He was only six weeks old and we were unsure of what the future would hold.     

Forty five minutes later, the surgeon came in with a smile on his face.  There were definitely bile ducts present, and the biopsy confirmed hepatitis.  Within two days his bilirubin levels began to improve, his skin color pinked up, and the whites of his eyes began to clear.  Within just a few days we were able to go home.     

This was the first of many, many times God comforted me as His cherished child.  Over the years the Holy Spirit has uttered prayers on my behalf when I was so burdened I couldn't even begin to put them into words.  He knows me so well and loves me that much.  My prayers have not always been answered in the way I had hoped or expected.  But God has proven time and time again that His grace is sufficient, and God is good all the time.   

In November our oldest son will be 33.  As he leads praise and worship in church, I am humbled and thankful to Jehovah-Rapha for healing, and His promise of "a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens". 


Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney