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More Waffles and Spaghetti

January 29, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

So…I have a little more to share about the waffle and spaghetti comparison. In my last post I revealed that guys have little boxes in their heads and it is best for us women to stay in one box at a time and try not to confuse them by expecting them to do mental gymnastics as we so fluidly talk in our spaghetti noodles while they are stuck in their waffle box. Yes, I know it’s a challenge but it is possible.

Well, apparently men have some boxes that are completely wordless. I know it’s hard for you and I to imagine but it is true. Some of their boxes are completely EMPTY of words and thoughts.

I have experienced this before when I have seen Dad sitting and staring. In the past I’ve asked him what he is thinking, and he has said Nothing. I never believed him, suspiciously thinking that he was hiding something he was afraid to talk about. I must say I was quite surprised when I read Bill Ferrell’s words that it is indeed true that men actually have boxes containing no words. I still can hardly comprehend such a phenomenon is possible but I will hopefully, going forward, believe him and let him sit in that box when he needs to. I have spent way too much time in my life wanting him to be like me and talking about many subjects, often jumping from one to another.

Then, of course, there is one box that is the largest of all and right in the center of their waffle. It is the box they prefer to spend lots of time in and I imagine you can guess the subject of that box. Yep, it’s the sex box. It is obvious that the sex box is connected to all the other boxes that surround it, which makes it easy for him to jump into the sex box at any time and from most any subject. It’s not that sex is always on his mind, just most of the time. But to be fair, God hardwired men that way.

All married women know that men typically have much higher sex drives than we do. It has been said that women warm up slowly like a crock pot, men like a microwave. We will be much more interested in sex if we feel emotionally connected, and even then it will take time and patience for us to be ready. There will obviously be no desire if we are frustrated and angry with our man, but a guy is ready at a moment’s notice, night or day.

I remember wasting years wondering why Dad was not more like me in all ways – in verbal communication, in sexual appetite, food choices, humor, – you name it we were opposites. I obviously had never read a book on marriage before I was married, I just assumed that since we were both Christians it would be easy.

Big mistake.

I had no idea that God intended the mystery of marriage to be that of complement, compromise, and counterpart. He meant for marriage to be a lifetime of learning, of forgiving, of adventure. We humans are so complex, we don’t even know ourselves well, so how do we expect to be able to jump into an exclusive relationship with a man, expecting ease?

But now, back to the other boxes. As you remember, each box in a man’s brain contains only one subject. So when they bring up a subject they want to stick with it until they feel like that subject is finished. For men, each box is a problem to be solved so when you open one box there is one problem to solve. When you open the second box, there are two problems. When you open a third, there is a third problem, and it keeps on adding up. When we open up too many boxes so quickly a man often gets overwhelmed and either shuts down or gets angry. He may feel that he just can’t keep up so he will bail out of the conversation completely, walking away or clamming up.

When Dad brings up a subject I often find myself swiftly jumping in and adding my opinion to the idea at hand even though he hasn’t asked for it. Sometimes I may link that opinion with something else that jumps into my mind. Then I wondered why he quit talking. I now know that he probably gives up and goes to find one of those empty boxes to sit in awhile.

I’m not sure why I tend to listen better to people outside my family, definitely something I need to work on. I know I hate listening to talking heads on TV that jump into another’s statement before the end of their sentence, yet at times I do it to my own husband. Lord, help me.

I need to remember I am not Dad’s counselor, I cannot fix him, and maybe I won’t even be able to understand him. But I can accept him just as he is instead of foolishly trying to make him like me. I can listen to him and encourage him to talk, letting him stay in one box for as long as he needs to be there.

It definitely takes discipline for me and I suspect that it may for you too.

Love, Mom

Waffles and Spaghetti

January 14, 2016 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Men are like Waffles, Women are like Spaghetti was the title of a book I came upon the other day. Thinking it was a rather odd comparison, I read on….

When you look at a waffle, you see a collection of little boxes each separated by walls. Every box is detached from the other and they all make convenient holding places. Apparently this is typically how a man processes life. Their thinking is divided up into boxes that have enough room for one issue, but only one issue. The first issue of life goes into the first box, the second goes in the second box, and on and on.

A typical man, says Bill Farrell, lives in one box at a time and only one box. When a guy is at work he is at work. When he is in the garage puttering around, he is puttering around. When he is watching TV….well you know the rest of that sentence. That’s why he looks as if he’s in a trance and ignores all else that goes around him. Psychologists call this compartmentalizing – that is putting each part of life into a different compartment.

Because of the waffle structure of their brains, men are problem solvers by nature. They enter a box, look at the problem and formulate a solution. A man strategically organizes his life to spend most of his life in the boxes that he can succeed in. If possible, he will ignore the boxes that confuse him or make him feel like a failure. For example, if a man feels like his career brings him success he spends most of his time at work, at the expense of other priorities. If being home and communicating with his family is difficult he will spend more time in front of the TV. It’s a safe and comfortable box.

When it comes to communicating, men will often talk only if they believe they can reach a desirable outcome. But if they see no point to the conversation quickly, they get frustrated and clam up.

Many men find it easy to develop hobbies that consume their time. If a man finds something that he is good at and makes him feel good about his life, he will pursue it relentlessly. He may get emotionally attached to fixing, building, and maintaining projects. If he is good at gaming, research, computers, or fishing, that will become his focus. He knows what he gets back from these activities is predictable and safe, which can be much more certain than the outcome of a conversation with his wife.

So, basically men spend most of their time doing what they do best while they attempt to ignore the activities which may cause them to feel deficient. It is rather challenging for them to jump from one box to another quickly; they like to stay in a box until that subject is finished, then move on to another box.

The same day I read this interesting phenomenon about men’s brains, I decided to try it out for myself. Dad and I were working on making a Vistaprint family calendar for you girls. We have done this in the past and often ended up frustrated with each other because pictures conjure up all kinds of memories for me, but Dad is focused with the job of choosing the pictures and staying away from that inevitable walk down memory lane.

That night we needed to go through hundreds of pictures, narrowing down to 12 of our favorites. Ordinarily, I would comment on many pictures, talking about the memories that came up. I would say something like, Oh……that picture reminds me of the incredibly strong storm that came up on the lake and it was so fierce that we were out of power for 18 hours and the next day was my birthday so we went out to breakfast and later walked along Lake Michigan and…… This time, however, I decided to stay on the task at hand with no small talk. It was quite amazing how much more smoothly the process went when I let Dad stay in one box and not hop from one to another. The process was smooth and we got the job finished in record time. It was only a little difficult to refrain from bird walking.

In stark contrast to the waffle model of men, women process life more like a plate of spaghetti. Looking at a plate of pasta you notice that there are lots of individual noodles that all touch one another. If you tried to follow one noodle around the plate, you would intersect with many other noodles and who knows, you might even switch to another noodle without knowing it. That’s how women face life. Every thought and issue is connected to every other thought and issue even though it may be only in some remote way. Life is much more of a process for women than it is for men.

This is why women are so much better at multitasking than men. We can cook dinner, nurse the baby, instruct older children to quit fighting and get the table set while planning the next days’ activities. Because all our thoughts, emotions and convictions are connected we can move almost seamlessly from one piece of information to another and keep track of more activities than our husbands.

We consistently love to talk things through as we solve problems, and as we do we connect the logical, relational, emotional and spiritual aspects of the issue. Men, however, prefer to stay in one box at a time. Trying to jump boxes is tiring and confusing for them. Pam Farrel gives the following illustration of how women tend to sum up their day:

Joan gets home and says, “Honey, how was your day? I had a good day today. We just committed to a new educational wing at the university, and I have been asked to oversee the budget. I am so excited that they didn’t rule me out because I am a woman. You know women have been fighting for a place in society for decades, and it is good to see so much progress being made. I think it is neat that you treat the women who work for you with so much respect. Our daughter is so lucky to have you for a dad. Did you remember that Susie has a soccer game tonight? I think it is important we are there because the Johnsons are going to be there and I really want you to meet them. Susie and Bethany are getting to be good friends, and I think we should get to know her parents as well.”

As Joan is talking on and on her husband is getting lost, frantically trying to jump from one box to another in his waffle way of thinking. He simply cannot understand what the budget at the university has to do with Susie’s soccer game and their need to have a new friendship with the Johnsons.

God certainly has a sense of humor when we look at men and women in the light of waffles and spaghetti. Of course He created us this way on purpose so we could complement one another. Life would be quite boring if we were the same, even though at times it sounds like a good idea. But I think He must occasionally be chuckling as He watches us learn about each other and strive to communicate. Frustrations mount and sometimes anger erupts when we just don’t understand our men and they don’t get us, but that’s why we have a lifetime to learn.

So… now that I have read the first chapter of this book, I will have to ponder better how to communicate with my husband. I can see already why it is so important to have women friends and daughters to talk with, then our noodles can overlap in conversation and it’s all good. So thankful you are my friends as well as daughters.

Love, Mom

Major & Minor

January 1, 2016 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

As I am pondering the year that is almost complete, I started recalling all the Major as well as the Minor themes I have experienced during the year. As you know my favorite current author is John Eldredge, from whom I have borrowed the idea of Major and Minor themes.

Of course one of the Major themes of my year is God’s faithfulness and goodness. The sun came up every day, although we couldn’t always see it. One of life’s ultimate comforts is simply knowing that the sun is still shining above the clouds.

God gave strength for everything I needed to do – not all that I wanted to do – but enough for each day. He provided strength to wash both clothes and dishes, make meals, to answer many questions, find things that have been lost, picking hundreds of pounds of delicious garden produce, preserve many of those pounds, capture beauty in my camera, write in my gratitude journal, visit with relatives and friends.

Another major theme is that I have begun to sing again. For months I had only enough strength to do work that needed to be done. But now I am able to have enough energy to both play the piano and sing. It is such a joy to listen to Grandma play piano for a half hour every day, then take my turn to do the same.

Shortly after we moved to Idaho I asked God for a friend. We have many wonderful relatives in the area, but I asked for a friend close by. I was thinking of someone my age so we could have lots in common. Having moved many times in my life I have found that it is difficult to break into a community as a newcomer because many people already have their circle of friends, and circles don’t often easily open.

God surprised me and brought a friend who was also new to the area. Ruth, a young mother, her husband and 2-yearold son Jacob moved from Montana to live across the street from us a few months after we had moved in. Since then we have shared stories of our lives, recipes, laughter, hard as well as joyful times in our families, goods from our gardens, singing and playing piano together, and friendship.

A final Major theme is that of Dad and I learning to serve Grandma and Grandpa together. At the beginning of our time here we were not sure of our specific roles, but as we prayed together for wisdom and walked through each day, we learned how to help but not overstep our boundaries. Yes, there have been misunderstandings, disagreements, and times of forgiveness, but we are becoming comfortable with our roles and have learned to be grateful for one another and the work that is divided between us.

Of course there are the Minor themes that always come along in life as well, whether we invite them or not. One Minor theme is the continued chronic insomnia that I have experienced for the past 15 years. There were some days, after having several 4 and 5 hour nights, that I simply asked God to take me home if He would not grant me the sleep that I so desperately needed. I had sought help from many, but no one had answers. In the midst of the darkness of those days and verbalizing my anguish to Dad, he would simply sit and listen at my bedside as I cried. Because my cries and laments were shared, I was able to go on for yet one more day.

Then I founded someone in our little town who has given me hope once again. I have had many 8 hour nights, and actually can’t remember the last time I slept only 4 hours. Zed has found what we think is the root of the problem and I am slowly getting stronger day by day. Maybe…..soon I will have more endurance and energy.

Dying to self is certainly a Minor theme, but so necessary in our growth as Christ followers. When we moved to Idaho I thought I had died to myself, but God shows me new ways every day as we care for Grandpa and Grandma, how to continually find joy in serving and caring in many small ways, but that enrich all of our lives.

Another Minor theme, mixed with a Major has been talking to you, my daughters, about your dreams, your hopes, your disappointments and your sorrows. All of us have had struggles in our marriages this year. Things will be well for a time, and then just like the proverbial layers of onion, another weakness shows up which needs to be dealt with. The Enemy is always out to find our weaknesses and divide us from our husbands, to see the worst in them – and some days that is not at all difficult.

But throughout the fight for love, God has caused each one of you to grow stronger. Stronger in love, forgiveness, searching hard for beauty, learning to cast your cares and worries on Jesus. I can see your splendor growing and the amazing grace that you have received from God and have graciously given to your families.

I encourage you to look back for the Major and Minor themes in your own lives this year. I think there will be many in each category. Be still and thank God for both themes, knowing that He is walking with you every day. We have prayed for one another and will continue to do so. In that I rejoice.

Love, Mom

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth. 3 John 4

Joy

December 23, 2015 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Last night we hosted a sing-along at our home. We invited people to simply come and join us in sharing some Christmas music. We had local friends, dark-skinned and light, with their guitar and ukulele, a few relatives, our neighbors down the lane – about 20 in all – a good variety of old friends and new. Grandma and I have been practicing for weeks our Christmas songs on the piano. Sometimes Grandma morphs from Go, Tell it On the Mountain into Jesus Loves the Little Children; other times she plays the verse of one song flowing seamlessly into the chorus of another, but most of the time is able to end on the same song she started.

There were no gifts given except that of sharing music together. After we caroled many Christmas songs, Susan and her friends taught us a new song:

Nothing behind, nothing before, the steps of faith,

Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.

We listened to our friends sing the song then joined along with them. After that we sang it as a 3-part round. It was beautiful as we all sang our parts, hearing the lovely harmony weaving in and out. Next Susan asked us if we had any stories of our walks of faith that we were willing to share with the group. We heard some stories of people coming to Idaho from New York, New Zealand, Michigan, California, Arizona, the Netherlands – all of us stepping out in faith, going where God had called us to go. All of us had journeyed many miles, sometimes not knowing what lay before us, but simply being obedient to God’s call on our lives.

I knew the stories of many of these people and the suffering they have endured. Yet here we were, singing with joy on our faces and in our hearts, thankful for our Savior Jesus Christ and the Rock he has been in all of our lives.

It’s interesting that the people who have been through hard things in life often seem to be the most joyful. I had heard the quote by Richard Nixon:

Only if you have been in the deepest valley, can you ever know how magnificent it is to be on the highest mountain,

and I have found that it’s true. Of course you have to pin that beast of bitterness and ingratitude to the floor, give thanks and fight for joy, it doesn’t just fall on you. There are those who have suffered and choose to stay in that prison of bondage. But the good news that Jesus brought to us thousands of years ago is that there is freedom – freedom from hurt, abuse, neglect, and broken hearts.

My friend, Marcia, posted the following prayer a while back and I think it’s profoundly beautiful. It’s not your typical prayer of blessing, but a prayer that comes from knowing real blessings can only come through hardship, adversity and the perseverance that results.

I pray this prayer for each of you, my daughters, because I know this is a prayer that God will answer in a most creative way for each of you. I am certain He will answer in His exquisite wisdom and timing.

A Franciscan Benediction

May God bless us with discomfort

At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships

So that we may live from deep within our hearts.

May God bless us with anger

At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of God’s creations

So that we may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless us with tears

To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war,

So that we may reach out our hands to comfort them and

To turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless us with just enough foolishness

To believe that we can make a difference in the world,

So that we can do what others claim cannot be done:

To bring justice and kindness to all our children and all our neighbors who are poor.

Amen.

Even though we will be far from all of you this Christmas, you are closer than ever in my heart, mind and soul. I will miss you and your families greatly, but know that God will bless you now and in the years to come…until we meet again.

Love, Mom

Family Trees

December 10, 2015 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

As you know, we have relatives of whom we are proud and those we would rather keep hidden. Amazingly, Jesus had the same type of family tree except that he wasn’t ashamed of them. I find it fascinating that before the birth of Jesus is ever mentioned in the book of Matthew, we find a rather lengthy, boring to most, genealogy. God’s history with His people has always been one of openness. There have never been any secrets with Him

In a classic Jewish genealogy women were not included, they were not deemed important enough. Remarkably in Jesus’ there were four women included. Not your good, upright and noble women, but women of shame. He was not consumed with the purity of His pedigree, but in the extreme value of every person on that list. There was Tamar, who disguised herself as a prostitute to trick her father-in-law into sleeping with her as a way of seeking justice from him, Rahab a prostitute from Jericho, Ruth, a foreigner, and Mary with an unplanned pregnancy.

In Jesus’ lifetime a person’s genealogy was similar to our resumes today. It gave a person validation, credentials. As in any resume, we all tend to expand on our best accomplishments and omit our worst failures. The ancients would typically feature ancestors who would hold them in high esteem, but leave out those of whom they were ashamed. Herod the Great, a King of long ago, destroyed his genealogy because he found it too embarrassing. But Jesus included these women in His because in God’s eyes there are no little people, no one who is below the grace of God, no one of whom to be ashamed.

Today I was looking through the homemade book My Life written by your great-grandma Vandermeer. It is a weighty book of genealogy that she spent decades compiling. The cover is thick heavy leather which she personally handcrafted. I still remember all her leather tools in a wooden box, watching her design the intricate artwork.

I must admit that it was both interesting and embarrassing to read a bit of my heritage. In our long ago family there were pioneers who came to the West in wagon trains, a prince, a woman who poisoned her husband at lunch, a poet, alcoholics, a missionary, a Singer Sewing Machine salesman, those who committed suicide – basically the typical menagerie that every family inherits.

The coming of Christ was right through families of messed-up monarchs and battling brothers, through affairs and adultery and more than a feud or two, through skeletons in closets and cheaters at tables. It was in that time of prophets and kings, the time of Mary and Joseph, that men were in genealogies and women were invisible. But for Jesus, women had names and stories and lives that mattered.

~ Ann Voskamp

The family tree of Jesus includes women who felt like outsiders, women who had been hopeless, who felt invisible and forgotten, women who had been close to giving up on life, those who were unappreciated and dismissed. You know of anyone who’s ever felt like that?

I remember when I was 16 and first driving by myself, wondering if cars would see me because I often felt invisible. At times I would be amazed that people would wait for me to make a turn before they drove on. I know that sounds silly, but that was a time in my life that I did not feel important or even visible. I imagine the fact that I was tall, skinny and awkward, plenty of zits, braces and shy had something to do with it.

The centuries seem not to have changed much for women. Today many of us feel the same, our society lauding women more for their bodies and outward beauty than their hearts and those deep desires within.

Last month Christie Hefner was honored by the YWCA with the outstanding leader Trailblazer’s Award. Somehow I found it interesting that she would receive such a prestigious award when most of her life has been promoting the beauty of other women’s naked bodies, seemingly not so concerned with the value of the hopes and dreams of their hearts.

Jesus attracted prostitutes, but not to use them. He saw their longing to be known and loved for who they were, not for what they looked like. He valued them, gave them hope, forgiveness and a restored life.

Tamar and Rahab had both been used by men over many years. Tamar, who had been lied to and tricked by her father-in-law decided to take justice in her own hands and was able to convict him for his wrong. Rahab, living in a godless place with a godless past, believed in the God of the Jews around her and eventually became the Great-grandmother of the great King David.

Other women mentioned in Jesus’ lineage were humble women, those who lived their lives doing the tedious things. In the middle of this boring genealogy we have wonderful stories of God’s grace breaking into shamed women. Ruth, a woman whose husband had died, decided to help out her mother-in-law, who had also lost her husband. She gleaned in the fields of wheat and was noticed by the richest guy in town, who just happened to marry her. She became King David’s grandmother.

Mary, the mother of Jesus was also considered boring by today’s standards, doing the humble things in life that a typical Jewish teenager did – cook meals, wash the laundry, care for younger children, clean house – until the day an angel came to her, saying that she would become the mother of the Messiah. Now this sounds quite exciting until you think of what the village people might have said. “Sure, the Holy Spirit made you pregnant? Really? You think we’re going to believe that, you whore. You know what happens to girls who get pregnant when they’re not married.” Mary was shamed, her life totally disrupted as she was going about her predictable life.

God disrupts our lives as well. We may have a plan, but God’s is usually different – and always better. We all play an important part of a much larger story. Tamar, Ruth, Rahab, and Mary were all outcasts at one time or another, rejected, ridiculed, used, and seemingly forgotten. But God in His amazing mercy brought each of these women into an important part of His Story. He is a specialist at rewarding the humble, raising up the rejected.

Jesus is delighted when each of us does our job faithfully, carefully and humbly. Every repetitive task we perform with gratitude to God is accepted as an offering, an honoring of our Savior. Every diaper we change, each question we answer with kindness, the clients we treat with respect, each meal we prepare, every word of encouragement we speak reflects the love of Jesus.

When we love our husbands, God is pleased. When we forgive and persevere when we would rather leave, God is pleased. He loves faithfulness and will reward it in His time. When we read all the stories of how God loves women, we know that His love for us is the same. Our small stories of humble lives are being worked into His grand story and one day we shall see the whole story and marvel.

Lean on Him. Trust Him.

Love, Mom

The Wonder of Rain

November 23, 2015 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Last week it rained for 3 days straight…a rarity in Idaho. We live in what is called high desert which translates to about 11 inches of rain per year. During this three-day rainy season we received 1.75 inches and many people were rejoicing because it meant several feet of snow in the surrounding mountains which means more melt in the springtime to fill the reservoirs and aquafers. Can you tell I’m a farmer’s daughter and not a skier?

The gently falling rain brought to mind an article I had read a few years ago by John Piper about an interesting verse in Job:

He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed, miracles that cannot be counted.

He bestows rain on the earth; He sends water upon the countryside. Job 5:9-10

Rain? Really? I had never before considered that rain was a wonder and a miracle.

In the past I had experienced rain, especially when we lived in Michigan, to be too much of a good thing. Because I grew up in the much drier West, it was wonderful not having to water the lawn in the summer time, but rain often hindered planned activities like weddings, open houses, and picnics.

While we lived in Kansas we learned to measure rain not by inches or tenths, but by hundredths. Most people dry farmed there so rain was the only moisture available for the crops and every hundredth was celebrated.

Anyway…have you ever considered rain to be a wonder and a miracle? If not, read on……

Think of how it was in the time of Job in the Middle East. There were no irrigation pipes or pivots, plus the people were far from any lake or stream. If the crops were to grow and the family to be fed, water would have to come from the sky.

So, how does water come out of the clear blue sky? It would have to be carried from the Mediterranean Sea over several hundred miles and be poured onto the field. So how heavy is rain? If one inch of rain falls over one square mile of farmland we are talking 206,300,160 gallons, which equates to 1,650,401,280 pounds of water (that’s over one billion pounds of water.)

Now how does more than 200 million gallons of water get up into the air to be transported? Evaporation – when water quits being water for a while and rises up into clouds so it can come down as rain.

So it goes up, now how does it get down? Condensation happens when the water starts becoming water again by gathering around little dust particles between .00001 and .0001 centimeters wide. That’s really small.

Also, if you remember, the Mediterranean Sea is salt water, which would ruin the crops if it came down as salt rain. So somehow the salt comes out of the evaporated water during that 300 mile journey where it gets dumped on the farm.

Now what would happen if a billion pounds of water just dumped onto the square mile farm? All the wheat would be crushed and ruined. So the rain comes down in tiny droplets. The drops need to be big enough not to evaporate as they fall the mile or so from the clouds, but small enough to keep from crushing the wheat.

Wow.

Now I understood why Job wrote that rain is a wonder and a miracle.

If our amazing God has made such a seemingly ordinary happening as rain to be an amazing miracle, what love and creativity has he visited upon human beings – those He has fearfully and wonderfully fashioned in His image? And if we as human beings are so complex and intricately created, how He must tenderly value marriage, relationships and the keeping of vows between a man and a woman for life?

For several years I have been keeping a gratitude journal (thank you Ann Voskamp) but in the past few months I have neglected it. As Thanksgiving season is coming around and I pondered the wonder of rain, I pulled the journal out again to keep on recording those everyday miracles that happen every minute of the day.

The howling wind outside the window

The dazzling starry night as I take my walk down the darkened lane

The aroma of dehydrating tomatoes

The delight of chatting with my neighbor Ruth, and her precious son, Jacob

Visitors for afternoon tea

The playful antics of our kitten

Sweet, sweet sleep

A sliver of a moon

Jacob bringing me flowers from his garden

Piano students, even when they haven’t practiced

The indescribable longsuffering of Jesus

A beautiful rose

Freshly mown hay

I have learned that if I don’t give thanks for the little things in my life, I will criticize.

If I don’t focus on what God has given, I will ponder upon what He has not given.

If I don’t go out every day and take a walk, searching for the beauty and wonder around me, I will find my husband deficient, and my stay at home job mundane.

Jim Elliot (the missionary who was killed in Ecuador in 1956 at age 28) wrote with such wisdom:

A wife, if she is very generous, may allow that her husband lives up to perhaps eighty percent of her expectations. There is always the other twenty percent that she would like to change, and she may chip away at it for the whole of their married life without reducing it by very much. She may, on the other hand, simply decide to enjoy the eighty percent, and both of them will be happy. Accept positively and actively, what is given. Let thanksgiving be the habit of your life.

I encourage you, my daughters, to keep on giving thanks for the little things, the minute everyday gifts in your life. Lift your eyes to the beauty all around you, and consider the goodness of the Lord Jesus Christ and His immense compassion and artistry. Give thanks, even in the hard to give thanks times, trusting that He will work out all things for your benefit.

Love, Mom

Pruning

November 10, 2015 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

When Dad and I arrived in Idaho last November, Grandpa’s garden plot was empty, the rose bushes covered with burlap bags. All the trees, raspberry, blackberry and grape vines were pruned and looked like nothing but dead stumps.

The garden reflected my heart. Our third move in six years, I was weary, weak, lonely and sad. We had just said good-bye to all of you a few weeks earlier, tears shed, gifts given, farewells still echoing in my mind. It was not my choice to leave Michigan, which had been home for more than 20 years, but we are not always given a choice in life.

I felt like a burned up, chopped off stump.

During those two decades in Michigan, God’s hand had led us from place to place, and at each home we had made friends, discovering more and more the wonder of people and the grace of God.

I had given thanks, often with tears, simply because I know that Jesus is honored by gratitude – especially when it seems there is little to be grateful for. As Saint John of Avila wrote over 500 years ago:

One act of thanksgiving , when things go wrong with us,

is worth a thousand thanks when things are agreeable to our inclinations.

So I reluctantly gave thanks as we drove the 1600 miles west, not feeling especially thankful, but simply as an exercise in trust. Trusting that God had not made an error and now this was Plan B, but knowing that Idaho is where he wanted us for the next chapter of our lives, we had accepted the invitation to come and care for Grandpa and Grandma as their bodies and minds were becoming frail.

Spring finally came to the garden, green shoots pushing up through the dark soil. Tulips appeared, leaves started growing on the trailing grapevines, life came to this previously desolate, barren garden. As Dad and I slowly learned our roles in caretaking, I started coming to life as well. During these past 12 months of living in Idaho I have found joy in serving – no, not every minute of the day – but there is a quiet peace of knowing that I am in the center of God’s will.

Jesus gave his disciples a lesson in pruning the night before he was killed. He said that we are all going to be pruned. The reason for the pruning is that he wants us to bear more fruit, just like a gardener wants the most fruit possible from his trees and vines.

The only way a gardener can get lots of good fruit is to prune his garden. Pruning seems heartless, uncaring, even brutal when you watch him lop off all those beautiful branches and vines. But it’s really the most loving, compassionate act he can do for his plants.

As Jesus told his disciples in John 15:

I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.

Basically you will be pruned if you are not bearing fruit and you’ll be pruned if you are bearing fruit. So, I guess we should simply expect to be pruned. It hurts, it is not pleasant at the time, and it’s certainly not something that we ever ask for. But the results of pruning are so beautiful – lots and lots of scrumptious, delicious fruit.

And what is this fruit He talks about? It’s the fruit of the Holy Spirit that is spoken of in Galatians: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

I know that I need to mature in each of those character traits, and of course the only way we can grow is by being pruned – going through difficult times. It certainly doesn’t happen when everything is going our way.

Right now you may be looking at the fence line of your life, feeling branches being hacked off, battered by circumstances in your life, feeling anger toward God for what is happening. Maybe your husband isn’t doing what you would like him to do (or not to do). Your job may be frustrating and constricting to you. Perhaps your body isn’t working as well as you’d like. Friends may have abandoned you when you needed them the most. Your children are not always loving and respectful to you.

I know I’ve said it many times before, but God truly loves you and is tending your life, leading you into the path He wants you to go. He is the Master Gardener, the true lover of your heart and his goal is to make you beautiful.

Last week Dad and I were at Mesa Falls, an hour south of Yellowstone Park. It is a magnificent waterfall, carved into the lava over thousands of years, and now simply breathtaking to observe. Near the scenic viewing area stands a brief history of the falls along with this quote:

The beauty of Mesa Falls was born of a tumultuous past.

When I read that statement I thought, That’s how people become beautiful as well. We, as well as the splendor in God’s creation, only become beautiful when we have had a difficult past and have come through it, stronger, braver, more compassionate and loving. If we trust Jesus during the pruning times in our lives, knowing He is the Master Gardener, we can learn to be grateful and patiently wait for His good work to be done in us.

When you are in a dark winter place, it seems sometimes as though you are forgotten, unloved and overlooked; but it simply isn’t true. Keep on persevering in your marriage, your friendships, and your children, and you will bear fruit – lots of good fruit.

I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. – Jesus

Love, Mom

Snake River Float

October 26, 2015 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Advertised as a Class 3 float trip with plenty of whitewater action and beautiful scenery, it was a gorgeous September day on the Snake River. Ninety degrees and a blue sky speckled with clouds was beyond anything Dad and I could have asked.

Packing our lunches in waterproof bags, we filled our water bottles and drove the five minutes to the launch spot.

We listened to our licensed, professional guide, Mike, explain all the safety procedures should one of us be thrown into the river during the 10-mile trip. Nervously I asked if it was often that people were tossed into the rapids. Mike replied that they had employed one guide who dumped out adventurers quite consistently but she lost her job when it became a noticeable pattern. He assured us that his record was much better and if we all paddled together the excursion should be quite enjoyable yet exciting.

Mike was in the back acting as our rudder and the eight passengers were instructed to Forward row, Back row or Rest, according to the orders he gave us. Simple enough.

As we pushed off, the river was calm and Mike took us to a spot where he was certain we could spot a sturgeon prowling the waters. After several minutes of peering into dark water the four-foot sturgeon finally appeared to entertain us with his graceful roaming.

Then our first rapid appeared. FORWARD ROW!, Mike shouted, and we all started rowing, clumsily clanking each other’s paddles. Even though we were less than stellar rowers we were through that rapid in about ten seconds

It was time to relax with some calm water and enjoy the osprey and blue heron gracefully standing on the sides of the river. Mike also pointed out the blackberry bushes, of which we stopped and sampled, as well as poison ivy, which we did not.

As we were remarking about the rugged beauty, amid the pillow lava, Mike told us that one of his floaters a few weeks earlier asked if he and the other guides went out to place the rocks and bushes so beautifully on the sides of the river. He chuckled as he told the story, wondering how anyone could consider asking a question like that.

There were a few more minor rapids and we as a team continued to improve on our rowing, not jangling our paddles quite so much.

Then appeared the largest rapid of all. My heart started racing and fear riveted as I looked ahead, seeing the whitewater of the river looming ahead of us. I detected that the water close to the beach was much calmer, but no, Mike headed for the center of the river where the roughest water was churning.

FORWARD ROW! Yelled Mike. Down into the first wave we plummeted and our entire crew was drenched with 58 degree water. KEEP ROWING! He yelled. Sure, I thought. Keep rowing as I’m falling into Dad’s lap and onto the top of the guy in front of me. I was exhilarated that I had held onto my oar and was not floating in the river. I was not going to be paddling for a while.

Amazingly we all stayed in the raft and navigated that rapid quite well. Just when my heart had quieted and we were on calm water again Mike said: That was so much fun let’s do it again!

Thankfully I was able to keep my mouth shut, but in my mind I was shouting: Are you kidding me already? We barely survived that one, I have a good memory and I don’t need to do it again. But FORWARD ROW! was the command and Mike turned around and steered us back into that same rapid, again directly into the center and most violent part.

Of course the story was repeated again. Once more we got through with everyone intact and thoroughly soaked. But you know what? The second time through it was not as scary and I was actually able to keep on rowing part of the time and not fall onto the people around me.

Shortly after we were able to see the only Frank Lloyd Wright designed home in all of Idaho. Hidden completely from the roadside, it was somewhat visible from the river.

After a few more drenching rapids, our crew became more unified and there were less and less clanking oars as we learned to work together and concentrate on obeying and trusting our guide. I viewed every rapid from then on as a challenge to keep rowing and stay in my seat.

Eventually we came to the end of the journey, and at the take-out said good-bye to our new found friends. After we got home Dad and I chatted about the joy and beauty of the trip. He had gone on the same excursion back in April by himself because I was not so brave. But the shared adventure of the outing made it much sweeter as we relived together the delight and challenge of the trip.

After the excursion I reminisced about the times we were plunging into the various rapids and thought about life and how, if I had a choice, would always stay close to shore where the calmer water lay. But God has seen fit to bring Dad and I, as well as all of you, through turbulent rapids – times when we have had to hold on for dear life, continually trusting our leader and guide, Jesus Christ.

At times it has seemed as if our lives would capsize and we would go under, never to come up again. But here we are, still in the land of the living, and growing stronger day by day. He knows what is best for us, and walks us through those difficult times, as we are able to grow up and become more like Him.

When things get rough, that’s precisely when we grow in faith.

One of my favorite verses for when I am going through rejection, chronic illness, fear of the future and loneliness is Isaiah 41:10:

So, do not fear, for I am with you;

Do not look around you in terror and be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen and harden you to difficulties,

Yes, I will hold you up and retain you with My victorious right hand of rightness and justice.

Hold tightly to your leader and your guide. Jesus will never let you go. He loves you dearly, my precious children.

Love, Mom

Dementia, Deafness and DMV

October 6, 2015 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

One morning last week I woke up and walked sleepily into the den on my way to the kitchen. It always takes me a while to adjust to the bright sun and the new day. I like quiet and peace in the morning – and a cup of tea.

As I walked through the den, Grandpa was reading the morning paper and I said Good Morning just like I always do. He saw me coming and his first sentence was one of panic. I CAN’T HEAR A THING! MY EAR WENT BONKERS! ALL OF A SUDDEN EVERYTHING JUST WENT BLANK!!! I’M GOING TO BE DEAF JUST LIKE MY MOTHER!

Whoa, hold on, I’m not quite ready for all this so early in the morning.

I vaguely remembered this happening one other time and it was because wax somehow suddenly dropped into his ear canal (he only has one working ear) and plugged everything. Producing a plethora of ear wax is a gift that Grandpa has been given, for better or worse.

I called his ear doctor and the friendly receptionist found an appointment for him that same day. I think she noted the urgency in my voice.

Since we left plenty early and a car wash was on the way, we decided to stop in. As we were driving up Grandma thought it said Ear Wash, so she and I started discussing how handy it would be to drive through with Grandpa’s window down and get his ear cleaned at the same time, saving a trip to the ear doctor. We decided against it.

We had another short errand to do while we were in town – a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get a registration for the new ATV that Grandpa had just purchased.

As we were walking into the building we had the following conversation:

Grandma: Why are we here?

Me: To get a registration for the new ATV.

Grandma: I didn’t know we got a new one. Where was I?

Me: At home. DAD, LET’S GO IN THIS LINE.

Over here, Mom.

OK, DAD, YOU NEED TO SIGN RIGHT HERE BY THE X

Grandpa: SIGN WHERE?? (Since he has a serious tremor he had his signature stamp that he uses for official documents)

Grandma: Why are we here?

Me: To get a registration for the new ATV.

Grandma: I didn’t know we got a new one. Where was I?

Me: At home. OK DAD, IT WILL COST 8 DOLLARS

Grandpa: HOW MUCH?

Me: (shouting directly in his ear) EIGHT DOLLARS.

Grandma: Why are we here?

Me: To get a registration for the ATV.

Grandma: I didn’t know we got one. Where was I? Are we going to be late for the Doctor? Do you know how to get there?

Me: No, we’ll be early. Yes, I’ve been there many times before.

Grandpa: I’M SURE GLAD THEY HAVE CHAIRS IN HERE SO I CAN SIT DOWN.

Me: Yup.

The friendly DMV guy: I wish I had a cool signature stamp like that, my writing is horrible.

Grandpa: I’M SURE GLAD WE DIDN’T HAVE TO WAIT IN LINE, WE CAME AT JUST THE RIGHT TIME.

Me: Yes, it was wonderful, no wait at all.

Grandma: (as we were on our way out) Why did we come here?

Me: Sigh…..

Every day is an adventure in our household. Living with Grandma who struggles with dementia and macular degeneration and Grandpa who finds it difficult to walk and hear, there are never ending conversations of repetitions and descriptions. Dad and I spend much of our time in laughter, some in tears, other times we simply sit together in silence, lamenting the frailties that come with advancing years.

Just this morning, we were making apple sauce from some of the beautiful Granny Smiths we had picked earlier in the week from Grandpa’s trees. Grandma and I were chatting as we used the nifty peeler/corer that makes our work much easier. Grandma asked where I had learned to use the machine so I mentioned that she had taught me many years ago when I was living at home. She looked at me quizzically and said I think you have me confused with someone else. I’ve never seen this thing in my life.

It still hurts not to be known by my own mother. To her I am the cook, the one who put those pills in the little dishes every night, the picker of garden fruits and vegetables, the one who helps to wash, dry and sort clothes, the lady who gets tea for her in the afternoon and encourages her to play piano every morning.

Even though Dad and I have been living here for almost a year, Grandma will ask if I’m spending the night or do I need to go home and take care of my family.

I feel like she is my little girl and I have become her mother. Much of the time I do my work with joy even though she doesn’t realize who I am. Other times I ache, missing the bond and memories we used to share as mother and daughter.

I weep for what has been lost, disappointed when I realize that she will not get better.

At other times I rejoice for what is coming in the future. Going through this season of life has made me hungry for the coming eternity, my heart longing for our time in heaven when Grandma will know us all once again. I hope for that which Jesus has promised, the renewal of all things:

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. (Hebrews 6:19)

I am grateful that this world is not the end of the matter, but simply a preparation for the magnificent future awaiting us, a heaven where there is no dementia, no blindness, deafness, or aging. Looking forward to this frees me to love now and helps take away some of the pain of loss. Our current life is much easier to enjoy simply because I know the best is yet to come.

Loss doesn’t rule, hope does.

Love, Mom

Nothing is Wasted

September 21, 2015 / Shari Baar / 6 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Last week Dad and I went to the Hagerman Flea Market on Highway 30, just outside of town. As we were browsing through the canned jams and jellies, t-shirts, and antiques, we came upon Ronda, the designer of many attractive, striking hats.

Since it is often over 100 degrees here in Idaho, I have been looking for a brimmed hat to help me endure the heat. Ronda had displayed various creative hats of all colors and styles. When I asked about them her face lit up and she began to tell me stories about all the different old jeans, woolen shirts, and colored canvas fabrics she had found or been given from her family and friends. She loves to recycle and reuse, so started the hat enterprise Sew Adorable.

I was amazed at every single square inch of jeans that had been used in her hats, the frayed hems, the well-used riveted pockets, even the worn-out flies. Ronda spoke with such affection, telling the stories of fabrics she had used. She encouraged me to touch the rough and scratchy textures of the wool and other piece goods I had never felt before.

Articles of worn out clothing that others would see as trash, Ronda saw something new, attractive and necessary for living in Idaho. Seven of the hats she had made just the night before, she mentioned with pride. She told about Barbara Streisand standing on a ship in the movie Funny Girl, wearing a hat that had been an inspiration for one of her creations. Many other movies gave her encouragement for a wide variety of hats. I listened in awe to her love of sewing and her joy in designing beauty that she and others can enjoy.

I tried on a few cute denim caps but quickly took them off because I was not happy with my large pointy ears sticking out. Ever since high school they have been hidden because our school secretary told me one day, as I was wearing a pony tail, that my ears were not at all attractive and they would be better covered up. Funny how we remember things like that.

Anyway, I found a good large-brimmed hat that fit well and covered my ears. Ronda taught me to roll up certain sides of it to evoke different moods and styles. Not that I do any of that evoking, but it was interesting nonetheless.

As I was walking out with my new purchase, God reminded me that he loves to recycle and reuse as well, making good out of the almost discarded.

There were many days that I felt like my marriage was old and worn out, not worth much and possibly ready to be tossed. There were too many disagreements over raising children, money, movies, food – any subject you can name. On most topics Dad’s and my opinions were the polar opposite of the other’s.

Going into marriage I hadn’t a clue how to talk calmly and resolve a conflict. I would either shut down and grumble in my mind or do the hit and run thing – shouting out what I thought was the right thing to do, then leave the room. I had no idea how to agree to disagree.

I’m sure you remember one night when I came home from teaching piano in Muskegon. It was Dad’s turn to put you all to bed and he did the unthinkable (in my mind). He let you go to bed with wet hair and I flipped out at him, ranting that by morning the pillows would be moldy, there would be fungus growing on your faces and who knows what else. Dad stood there stunned and speechless. Then I walked away.

As I look back on that incident, I’m quite certain that it must have happened on one of my PMS days, but even so it was quite an irrational accusation.

Throughout the years I’ve learned that every conversation ending poorly or well, every time I got angry about insignificant details, was a stepping stone in the process of learning to converse with grace and respect. Of course there will always be disagreements, but they are necessary so we can learn how to resolve conflicts peacefully.

It has taken us many years to learn the skill of stating our opinions, needs and desires calmly and humbly. Of course there are still times when I get riled up about something and do not express myself well, but I’m learning.

As my friend Joyce says:

I’m not where I need to be but thank God I’m not where I used to be. I’m OK and I’m on my way.

It takes a lifetime for two strong-willed people to love one another. It takes time to learn what’s really important, to sit down and talk through differences without attacking one another.

In my earlier years I became fixed on my failures, feeling so stupid for things I had done, wishing they could have been deleted. Embarrassment, shame and humiliation, would be heavy on my mind. I would think of those failures as a waste, having no worth at all. Now I see them and other times that I’ve messed up as the means to drive me to Jesus. I simply cannot do life well on my own.

God knows we are going to blow it with our husbands and children. No matter what we say and do, we will be misinterpreted, tempers will flare, words will be shouted in anger….and every one of those sins we commit are opportunity for apologies. Apologies to our husbands and confession to God.

Nothing, nothing is wasted. As Paul says so eloquently:

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

That little word all is so important. It’s not just the inspiring actions we do or the pleasant words we say that God loves. It’s the times when we say the offensive words and do what we don’t want to do, that give us opportunity to humble ourselves. How God loves humility and the restoration of relationships.

Because God looks on your past with mercy and uses all things for your good and your growth, so you can know for certain that nothing in your life is wasted. He makes all things beautiful….in His time.

Love, Mom

Branches and Trees

Page 17 of 22

More Waffles and Spaghetti

Waffles and Spaghetti

Major & Minor

Joy

A Franciscan Benediction

Family Trees

The Wonder of Rain

Pruning

Snake River Float

Dementia, Deafness and DMV

Nothing is Wasted

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