Easter always reminds me of daffodils.  Daffodils always remind me of Uncle David. When I was about 4 or 5, Uncle David gave me a beautiful book of poetry (it had daffodils on the front and lots of pictures of beautiful flowers).  I was trying to learn to read at that point, sitting on the couch, when I asked my Mom, “What is d-o-g spelled backwards?”  She told me that was God.  I knew this was significant.

It’s even more significant that Uncle David is thus directly tied in my little kid brain to finding out about God.  Uncle David was not on everyone’s A list.  He was, in the terms of the day, “slow” or “different” (not dumb, just not quite functioning at the mental complexity his particular decade and community preferred.  He had gotten in some pretty awful spots when someone misunderstood his assessment of different situations (think “padded room”).  Uncle David spent a good part of his later life shuttled off to a halfway house on Capital Hill in Seattle.  Some of the relatives breathed a sigh of relief, and except for coming to the island to pick blackberries and thimbleberries and huckleberries once a year so I could make him a pie, we didn’t see much of him for quite a while.

Uncle David died quietly at home.  A funeral was planned for our little community, with some folks figuring immediate family would be the only ones who showed up.  Boy, were we surprised!  From David’s delightfully diverse community, carloads of people came to our small town and filled the funeral home.  After the formal part of the service was over, someone from the back spoke up and said, “We would like to say something…..”  The minister let her come to the microphone.  One by one, a parade of people came forward to speak about how David’s simple ability to love and encourage those around him, to do practical things, to serve, to help in any way he could had blessed their lives over and over again.  We sat their dumbfounded, humbled and incredibly grateful for the profound lesson unfolding in front of us. God, in typical fashion, chose the humble of the world to teach us that his ways aren’t our ways.  That we had missed the point entirely by talking more than we listened.  That there had been much to learn from a humble man with no guile who sought to love his community.  I am grateful each Easter, especially, as I think of the lessons Uncle David gave me on living in the grace of God.

Lord, what does it mean,
In a world so full of fear and greed
With countless folks in need
To serve you?

Instead of seeking so much STUFF
Teach me how much is enough
And how to share the blessings
You’ve bestowed.

Jesus, please forgive me.
Please show me what it means
To walk your way.
I bow down, I lay before you.
I cannot rise again
In my own strength.

Lord, what does it mean
To take the bread and wine
And worship you on Sunday
If the rest of the week is mine?
Lord, my life is in your hands.
Teach me to live as you command,
To be one of your servants in this world.

Jesus, here I am lord.
Offering what I have and what I am.
Let me be poured out for You
As you were poured out for me.
Show me how to be your loving hands.

All of my longings, all my desires
I place on your altar.
Consume them with fire.

Change me; teach me
So the world can see
More of you, Lord, and less of me.

By Teresa Norman 2004

In a world that’s kind of FULL of all kinds of bad news, I wanted to share a kindness story from two of my favorite ambassadors of goodness…..

Wolfie                                                                                                                             2/26/2020

Today was just another day, (except for the tears and the sadness). It started with no sleep, continued with too much work and ended with missing house keys, puppy vomit in the back of the car, (And an off balance feeling like walking on marbles waiting to fall).

But there was a bright spot – today was the first day of hanging out with my fabulous grandsons after school.

When they got off the bus We were met with enthusiastic slobbery puppy love… Brandy, the St Bernard puppy, and Penny, the gentle loving guardian greeted us with wild enthusiasm, and a distressing cough. Has Penny’s cancer spread?   (Sadness). (My MRI results tomorrow should answer the same question…)

Austin, the wise gentle 10-year-old, explained things to me – “Penny’s cancer might be pushing on her lungs. That’s what the cough is from…. Soon she’ll be up with Tiger (his other guardian puppy that died) and she won’t be in pain anymore.” (Tears)…Grandma lost it.

The sweet wisdom and acceptance, the wise beyond years;  how well mom & dad prepared him. So proud of this guy!

As Austin tried to comfort me, Wyatt, the 7-year-old fire cracker, went and got me four quarters out of his valuable stash to make me feel better.  That didn’t seem to solve it so he brought me one of his loved stuffed animals, Wolfie, to take home for tonight to make me feel better. (If I promised my puppy wouldn’t eat him).

 So lucky to be loved by this tribe.

(Turns out Penny is OK! and so am I)

There have been so many times, for me, it seems God can’t get my attention during the day, so He’ll wake me up at night.  I know to some people that sounds strange, but I’m still a simple country girl and that kind of thing just seems normal.  Last night was one of those times where my busy little brain had been running in circles and I woke up to a song in my head I hadn’t thought of for many many years.

I Need to Be Still, by BJ Thomas, was a song a friend taught me years ago.  Part of the words are “When there’s trouble all around and my soul cries out for rest, when it feels like I’m failing even though I’ve done my best, when decisions get so heavy, there are answers that I need – you know it’s time to just be still and let God love me…..”  (click the link).  This was the gift last night.  A reminder that God knows where to find me, and that sometimes I just need to be still and not try to figure things out….easy to say, hard to do.