Fall is Coming - Can't You Feel It?

Fall is coming; can't you feel it? The calendar page won't be flipped to the official day until Friday,
but our dogwood tree is already tinged with red, and the oaks are dropping acorns by the hundreds. We live in the south, and yes, it is still hot. Hurricanes and tropical storms are lined up in the Atlantic like Friday night planes coming in for landing. The thermometer is still pegging close to ninety some days; but the days are getting shorter, and the humidity is a tad lower. That means there is hope our long, hot summer is winding down.

I love early to mid-fall best with trees showing off in various shades of red, orange, and gold. I can't wait to put pumpkins on the porch and fall mums to replace my sad, spindly summer flowers. Or sad, dead summer flowers might be a better description. Another fall favorite is Carolina Panthers football on Sunday afternoons. Gotta cheer for the blue, silver, and black. There's always a glimmer of hope that we will win a Super Bowl one day. Somehow we get there, but let the ultimate victory slip through our hands every time. Maybe this year will be different.


There will be no Starbucks pumpkin spice lattes for me this year, or any year for that matter. Give me hot chocolate and a cozy stadium blanket to wrap up with in front of the fire pit. We have already had a few fires, mostly just to burn the limbs blown down by summer storms. I love to watch the flames; that is, until the mosquitoes chase me inside. They are the bane of southern life!

So, what do you look forward to most about the change from summer to fall? Cooler weather? The kids all back in school? Sweatshirts and sweaters? For my brother...better fishing (catching)? For me...it's the NCIS season premiere which airs on Tuesday, September 26! 😉😊😛 I am only slightly addicted. Whatever your favorite things are about fall, just enjoy life!

Laney's Musings
Copyright 2017

When God Gives Your Heart a 180-Degree Twist

Three years ago our senior adult ministry from church went on an outing to a country store in a nearby town. I was fairly new to the church, and must admit, I felt a bit out of place. At the time, I was one of the youngest senior adults in the group. For some of us, it's hard to come to grips with being considered a "senior". You know, I had this preconceived image of being one step from a nursing home or the grave.

Okay, back to the country store. They provided a generous sampling of their many foods for sale for a nominal fee. They also offered coffee and iced tea. Since my coffee limit is about one cup per week, I had tea. I took a seat and a gentleman about 20+ years my senior took the seat next to me. I was casually acquainted with him from church. Actually, when we began attending he was one of the first people to introduce himself and remember our names.

I ate my small plate of food and we talked awhile. As I was finishing my iced tea, he said his coffee was still too hot. He then reached into my cup and took an ice cube and put it in his coffee cup. I was mortified! Of course, I didn't say anything, but I soon proceeded to the trash can with my cup and got another. I am ashamed to say, I also returned to another seat.

That one small incident had suddenly changed how I felt about the man. His social misstep made me think less of him for a time. But then God began to work in my heart. It is a funny memory about which I can now laugh. Sometimes senior adults do and say inappropriate things. Truly, all people say and do inappropriate things at times. But with senior adults, you just don't know if dementia may be rearing its ugly head. The disease can afflict rich, poor, doctors, college professors, and housewives like my mom.

I don't know if my "ice poacher" has the beginnings of dementia, but I do know that over the past three years his health has declined rapidly. He has had several falls and is reluctantly using a walker. He now usually calls me by my best friend's name. I care about him. I worry because he is widowed, lonely, and lives alone. I miss him when he is not at church and seek him out when he is. If he needed an ice cube for his coffee, I would gladly give him mine.

What changed? It was me. God gave my heart a 180-degree twist.  He does things like that.

Copyright 2017
Laney's Musings

Waiting and Letting Go

In Mark 10:15 Jesus says, "I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” - NLT

Do you understand what that means? It doesn't mean you must be a child to gain access to heaven; it means you must have faith and trust like a child...or an old person.

For over a year, my mother-in-law's health has declined to the point of needing more care than could be received at home. In recent days the decline has reached a critical point, and her departure from this life seems eminent. For fifteen years, since the death of her sweet husband, Mom Beckie has wanted to go to heaven. She has prayed for it every night. She will be 96 years old at midnight, if the Lord allows. 

Don't think for a moment that for the last fifteen years she has been a sad, depressed woman waiting to die. Her quick wit, sassiness, and witness for the Lord has been just as strong through her infirmities as it was in days of youth and good health. When asked last week if we wanted a Hospice chaplain to visit, my husband told them, "Sure, if he doesn't mind being preached to." She is tired and ready to go home. She has trusted God long enough, experienced His love long enough that the gravitational pull toward heaven is stronger than anything earth has to offer...including all of us, her family and friends. As I think of the wonders she will experience in just a short while, I am quite jealous. She will meet her Savior face to face, receive a new body and won't need the old earthly one any longer.

A few days ago as family stood around her bed, we asked her "what is your favorite song?" I expected her to say Amazing Grace, Just As I Am, or It is Well with My Soul. But no, in a voice barely above a whisper she said, "Jesus Loves Me." So, we sang Jesus Loves Me through tears. Yesterday when a dear friend visited, she wanted her to sing Away in a Manger. These are the songs of her childhood, still treasured and remembered. In child-like faith and anticipation of what is to come she waits...and we wait, but must let her go. No goodbyes; just I love yous and we will see you again soon.

Charlotte Laney 

Copyright 2017

Squeaky Hinges and Damp Clay

Psalm 139:14 says, "I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."  Our bodies and minds are indeed wonderfully made. Memories enrich our lives daily.  

Muscle memory kicks in whenever we bend to tie a shoe, button a shirt, wipe a counter, or pour a cup of coffee. Whenever I forget one of the myriad passwords our technological world has forced upon us...I just close my eyes, place my fingers on the keyboard and they usually know where to go. Long-term memories are stored deeply within our brain and are often released like freeing a caged bird. Memories can be pleasurable or sad, comforting or frightening. 

For me, sweet childhood memories of my grandfather are triggered by the feel of stiff denim, the smoothness of a felt hat, the sound of a squeaky hinge, or the pungent smell of damp clay.

My dad's dad died when I was only three, so the  only grandfather I remember was my Grandpa G. He usually wore denim overalls and a felt hat. He was a man's man, but soft-spoken; I don't ever recall hearing him raise his voice in anger. I was surprised to learn he was 5 feet 11 inches since to me he seemed so much taller. Grandpa kept a bag of pecan sandies out of reach on top of their little refrigerator and would sometimes share with me. Grandma wasn't quite as free in sharing, especially her beloved Pepsis. Grandpa had a work shed behind their house on School Street in North Belmont. I doubt it ever had a coat of paint. There were tools and all kinds of mysterious items of interest to a curious little girl. It was off limits unless we were with him, and I would follow him anywhere. I remember the weathered wood, the squeaky hinge when he opened the door. But the clearest memory is the smell of musty, damp clay. 

Time passed and Grandpa's health began to fail. His frequent falls made it necessary for them to move from the little house on School Street to live with my aunt and uncle. In one day my grandparents watched while everything of assumed value was divided, and decades of memories were thrown in a pile and burned. It was one of the saddest days ever. 

As I said, some memories are pleasurable...and some are sad. I treasure them both. That day reminds me to hold possessions loosely. In the end, what remains are memories we create, the lives we touch, and the relationships we nurture. All the rest just ends up in a box or a pile of trash.

Charlotte Laney 
Copyright 2017

Insignificance - Not In God's Vocabulary

Do you ever feel insignificant...that your contribution to life on this planet doesn't, or hasn't, made a difference?  I imagine most of us have at times questioned or yearned for significance. 

We are the worker bees, buzzing along through life, trying to make ends meet, trudging through yet another week, not unlike the one preceding, or the one soon to follow.  We are the young mothers with little ones constantly in need of being fed, diapered, or nose wiped, and whose only meaningful daily conversation is answering the why's, how's, and what's of her little brood.  We are the senior adults who after years of service to family, church, business, and community, now find themselves sequestered by their own frailty.

Should we measure our significance through the eyes of man, or the eyes of God? Society in general only rewards grand accomplishments with its highest praise. Consider this; have you ever had a tiny pebble stuck in your shoe on a hike, got a paper cut on your finger while sealing an envelope, or been regaled by a swarm of gnats, ants, or yellow jackets at a picnic?  Hmmm.  It might be worth a few moments pondering.  While these examples may seem insignificant, they are only insignificant when they happen to someone besides you!

Matthew 17:20b says, "if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you."  If you have ever seen a mustard seed, you realize how tiny they are, about 1/16th of an inch in diameter, smaller even than a poppy seed.  God certainly recognizes their significance, as do I for the flavor they add to ham and cheese hoagies.

One of my favorite stories from the Bible is that of the widow's mite.  In it, Jesus was teaching in the  temple in Jerusalem.  He was seated opposite the treasury, where people placed their offerings.  He observed the rich putting in large sums of money, when a poor widow came and placed two coins, the smallest denomination used by the Jews.  Their value in today's economy was probably somewhat equal to one or two pennies.  Jesus took notice and said to his disciples,  "Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the contributors to the treasury; for they all put in out of their surplus, but she, out of her poverty, put in all she owned, all she had to live on.” 

Wow!  In God's eyes, the public offerings of the rich paled in comparison to the sacrificial one made by the poor widow.  I imagine her being embarrassed by her offering, wishing she had more to give.  Maybe she hid the coins in the palm of her hand.  Before she gently dropped them in the treasury box, she might have looked around, hoping no one would notice the "insignificant" amount she gave.     

But our God who sees and knows everything, including the motivation of our hearts, counted such value to the widow's tiny offering that He recorded it in His Word.  Its very inclusion in our Bible is testimony throughout eternity of our extreme significance to Him.  Don't question it!  Embrace it!

Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father. - Colossians 3:17 (NASB)

Copyright 2017 Charlotte Laney