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Efficiency…

July 27, 2015 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Grandma loves to get the water pitcher out from underneath the sink and water her flower pots. There are three out on the deck and one hanging outside the front door. For decades she has watered flowers. Pour the water in and the flowers come out. It’s a miracle.

She usually waters them before I get out of bed in the morning. Then as I’m doing the breakfast dishes she’ll water them again. Often mid-morning she’ll forget they were watered already and will douse them once more. Oh yes, there’s that Christmas cactus too that gets lots of water, sometimes overflowing onto the floor.

She also remembers to faithfully water those flowers down at the end of the lane. Grandma remembers very little these days, but she does remember the flowers.

Thankfully Idaho is a very dry climate with little rain, so the flowers love all the extra attention they are getting.

One day I noticed that the pot on the deck table was a bit wilted. So I mentioned to Grandma that the two hanging baskets were good and damp, but the middle pot on the table needed some water. Being the pleasant lady that she is, she quickly got out the water pitcher and said “OK, I just need to water the middle pot on the table right?” Yep, just the middle pot on the table. As I watched her from the window, she watered the two hanging baskets and passed right over the middle pot on the table.

Efficiency.

My life used to be focused on that word. Do the most I can in the least time possible. Work. Be efficient. Don’t waste time. I made every moment in my life count. Make the meals, wash the clothes, create the lesson plans, be sure everybody was where they were supposed to be at the appointed time. That’s how I grew up and that’s what I taught all you girls.

Now that Dad and I are living with Grandpa and Grandma, that word has become extinct in my vocabulary. Nothing is efficient. We walk slowly, we speak slowly, we eat slowly, although Dad and I are still the first ones finished with a meal. We talk and wait until everyone at the table is finished. We repeat many of our words, either because Grandpa can’t hear us, or Grandma forgets what we told her 60 seconds ago.

Yesterday we celebrated their 65^th wedding anniversary. About half the clan was there. Almost forty of us in all – children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren – came together for a meal next to beautiful Bass Lake. Hamburgers, summer salads and baked beans made for a simple yet scrumptious lunch. Grandpa and Grandma couldn’t remember all the people’s names, but they did know that they are loved, appreciated and respected.

We were at the lake for about four hours and no one seemed in a hurry to go. Hugs, smiles, cards, cake and words were in abundance. We were not efficient but we enjoyed life for the afternoon.

Last night after we got home we were talking about the delightful party, Grandpa kept talking and talking about how much he enjoyed having so many of his offspring around him. Grandma asked “What party was that? Was I there?”

So why do we throw a party for someone who doesn’t remember it an hour after it’s over? Because we need to celebrate faithfulness with the younger folks. We need to rejoice in life and all that is good.

Have there been times during their 65 years together that Grandpa and Grandma fought? Of course. I know there were days of anger, hurtful words, silent treatments, frustration, times that they each got on each other’s last nerve. It is an imperfect marriage, just like all of ours, but vows were made and kept. And for that, we rejoice.

I recently read a book called Adam, God’s Beloved by Henri Nouwen. Adam was a 34 year-old man, severely handicapped, who could not speak or even move without assistance. But Henri, a world-renowned author, university professor and speaker, had become tired of the continual expectations that come with someone of his stature. So he decided to stop all the fabulously impressive things he was doing and care for Adam and others at L’Arche Daybreak in Toronto, Canada. There he found community and a sense of belonging, something he had been missing much of his life. He was accepted and loved even though he wasn’t writing books or teaching.

After caring for Adam and other L’Arche residents for almost ten years Henri wrote the following:

Adam’s great teaching to us was, “I can live only if you surround me with love and if you love one another. Otherwise, my life is useless and I am a burden.”

Such wise and true words. We need the Grandmas and the Grandpas, the Adams, and other people of the world to teach us to celebrate life, listen carefully, laugh often at ourselves and each other. It has been good for Dad and I to adjust to a new, slower rhythm of life. We have come to realize that we are all on the same journey, that mysterious and profound journey of life, and that we are all broken, yet beloved.

Life is a gift. Each person is unique, known by name and loved by the One who created us. Regrettably, there is a consistent, loud, prevailing message that comes to us from our world leading us to believe that we must prove our belovedness by how we look, what we own, and what we can do.

True living does not mean checking off everything on your to-do list. Living, at the root of all life, is learning how to love. And what better way to learn to love than to hang out with people who are not efficient, with those who struggle, with the weak-minded and the weak-bodied. Life can become shallow when we think only about ourselves, our own interests, and our own lives.

Is it easy? Nope.

Is it always fun? Not at all.

Is it challenging? Yes.

It is hard, but oh so good.

Though it has been a long journey, I am learning – finally – to love, and sometimes that means to water that poor, neglected middle flower pot on the table after Grandma has gone to bed.

Love, Mom

Pedal to the Metal

July 15, 2015 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

A few months ago I was driving to church in the dark, about 12 miles from our home. The speed limit is 50, meaning most people go at least 55 and often 60. I was going along at a decent pace, when about three miles from my destination another vehicle pulled out from a side road going an acceptable speed. But immediately she pulled back to 35 mph. I was irritated and wondering what kind of person pulls out, then drives like a snail.

Because it was dark and the road curvy and hilly, I was unable to pass. I was feeling some annoyance and not thinking kindly of this person but grudgingly figured I could handle a few more miles at this turtle pace. I was surprised to see the same slow vehicle pull into the parking lot just ahead of me. Since we’ve only been attending this church for a few months I had no idea who drives crazy like this.

When I got inside, Jeanie, who is the same age as me, came and apologized for being that slow-moving vehicle. She was embarrassed, and proceeded to tell the story. As soon as she had pulled in front of me, an electrical warning light showed up on her dashboard and suddenly her car would only go 35 mph even though she had the pedal to the metal. How quickly I had judged her to be a rude, uncaring driver when in fact she could do nothing about her vehicle’s behavior. It wasn’t a serious issue, it made me about a minute later than I would have been. No big deal.

Often in the past, and I must admit even sometimes these days, I judge others’ behavior from my idealistic mindset of who I think he or she should be. God convicts me more and more to quit and leave the judging to him. There is so much about every person’s battles that I don’t know. As Wendy Mass says:

Be kind, because everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Your husband is fighting a battle as well, maybe he doesn’t talk about it, maybe he doesn’t even realize it, but it’s there. He may be wondering if he has the strength and wisdom to love you, love the children, protect the family. He may be fearful about his job performance, insecure and angry because of past abuse, anxious about being with your family. He may be battling depression but is afraid to talk about the thoughts that ravage him…..

In years past, when I was stopped at a red light my eyes wandered to other people sitting in their cars nearby. I saw those who were well dressed, driving a brand new car, looking so happy and found myself thinking that they must have a perfect, problem-free life. But after talking to many people over the years – some who are beautiful, smile a lot and drive new cars – I have found that everyone has a story, a difficult, sad, challenging story in which they are living.

As Jesus said, “In this world you will have troubles….” There are no exceptions; we will all experience trouble throughout our years here on earth. It is simply a fact of life as we face this battle between good and evil. Most people try to do the right thing but something happens in communication – words come out wrong, misunderstandings occur, snap judgements take place, haughty eyes are thrown toward heaven, body language offends.

There are times I would like Dad to procrastinate less, talk more, eat less, exercise more, snore less and on and on…. Why do my eyes often see only what I don’t like about him? Why am I so quick to make hasty conclusions?

Last week he had procrastinated on making airline reservations which resulted in some very inconvenient times and an extremely aggravated wife. I know this a relatively minor first-world annoyance, but immediately my mind went to all the things in the last 20 years that he has procrastinated, listing each one of them in my mind.

The Enemy had a heyday with my thoughts. Along with the listing came the thoughts, “Things will never change. You’ll never have the love you’re looking for. You deserve better. I hate this. I get so tired of the same ole same ole….” I kept on reliving all those procrastinations until God brought me up short and encouraged me to make a list not of Dad’s weak points, but of his strong points. So I started listing:

Faithful to me for 39 years

Forgiving when I confess my wrongs

Always willing to listen to me and my many ramblings

His big hearty laugh

His willingness to move 1700 miles to help me care for Grandpa and Grandma

Taking on the job of loading the dishwasher after every meal

When I forgave him (after grousing for a while) and started listing his strengths I was able to refocus my wandering mind, quit judging him and let him be a flawed human being just like me.

I don’t know why he does what he does. Sometimes I don’t even know why I do what I do. And you know, it’s really not my job. Yes, I will confront him on some issues, but God is leading me to pray for him more and criticize him less.

Paul speaks clearly about how we are to speak to all people, our husbands included:

Be completely humble and gentle: be patient, bearing with one another in love. Ephesians 4:2

Just like Jeannie, many people have their pedal to the metal, but something has gone wrong and they are having a hard time doing what they want to do.

Give your man the same grace that God has given you. Then be amazed at the changes you will see.

Love, Mom

A Fierce Good-bye

July 2, 2015 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

This week is the 23^rd anniversary of my brother’s, your Uncle Steve’s death. He was only 40 years old, his life ending much too soon.

Steve loved the outdoors. One of his favorite pastimes was canoeing down the Snake River, sometimes coming home with a banged-up canoe after going through some tougher than expected white water.

I can still see him playing the piano with his large muscular hands. One of his favorites was Easter Song by Annie Herring. I appreciated how he worked so hard to get those demanding octaves in the left hand.

He also loved to whistle. In church when other people would be singing, Steve would whistle. He and I sang duets together, spent time together, but he never talked about the depths of despair that haunted him.

He went to Mexico to help the poor. He loved God but had a difficult time loving people. No one knew, not even Steve himself, why interpersonal relationships were so challenging….

I remember that dark day well.

Our family, many of your aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents had planned to spend four days in the beautiful heart of the Sawtooth Mountain Range in Idaho. Redfish Lake was our destination, sitting at an elevation of 6,550 feet above sea level, where the waters are crystal clear and the beaches are sandy.

Our full family van had recently arrived from Kansas, our home at the time, anticipating another splendid summer vacation with our family in Idaho. It was a tradition, you remember, for as long as you girls have been living. Each summer our extended family would gather together for three nights and four days, enjoying mountain climbing, water skiing, canoeing, and simply delighting in time together.

We were planning to meet the whole family at Redfish Lake which was about a three hour drive north, each family taking their own vehicle. The day was sunny and hot, as they always are in July. Dad, Jodi and Stephanie were well on their way up Highway 75 in Grandpa’s motor home. I was following behind with Joslyn and Amanda in our car, eager to see the beauty that awaited us. I stopped to wait at a designated spot to meet up with Uncle Steve and some of his children, but he never showed up. We waited and waited until Uncle John came and stated the reason that he had not come. Steve had been found – dead.

Even though I was told plainly with words that my brother was dead, my mind could not comprehend that fact. I was in complete denial and drove to the hospital to see which room he had been admitted. When they told me there was no one registered by that name I walked away in a daze. I don’t remember how, but eventually we all ended up at his house and walked out to the garage where the death took place.

The details of the story slowly emerged. It happened the evening before, July 4 – Independence Day – when Uncle Steve took his own life. From his perspective, life had become unbearable and he could no longer survive the emotional turmoil that was raging inside him.

Just two days before, Grandma and I had visited him as he was settling into his new apartment. He seemed OK, although he always was a man of few words and little emotion.

As we were driving away from his home that dark evening, the guilt, shame and stigma of suicide began to descend on Dad and I. I was embarrassed, humiliated and ashamed that this happened to our family. This was for other families, not mine. Yes, I knew that my cousin had also given up on life a few years earlier, but things seemed to be better in our family.

I was absolutely certain that no one would show up at the funeral. It was too horrifying to think about, much less talk about. In my mind I imagined that I had a big black letter “S” sewn on my back. I felt like an untouchable, a reject, cast out to sit on the ash heap. Dad, one of the few who could stay focused on what needed to be done, helped my sisters and me go through the dull motions of picking a funeral home, choosing the casket, writing an obituary, planning the service – something I had not been prepared to do on my carefree vacation to Idaho.

Then came the day of the visitation. I was going to be strong and greet the people who could possibly be brave enough to stand with us in this atrocious grief. But as I walked into the dimly lit parlor and saw his body lying lifeless, his trademark pith helmet lying on his chest, I stayed for a few seconds and then fled out of the room, sobbing uncontrollably.

The day of the funeral dawned even though I was hoping it would never arrive. With legs like lead I got dressed and mechanically prepared the family to go. I was quite certain that maybe, just maybe, there might be two rows of people brave enough to attend. Who in their right mind would want to be identified with such an atrocity?

When I walked in the doors of the church, my high school friend, Lora, was there with tears and a hug. She had heard the news and she had come. Some cousins came from Washington to grieve with us. People trickled into the church until it was packed. I remember nothing of the service, just sitting there numb, except for the overwhelming fact that there were people who came and cared and cried with us.

God was there in those people who took time out of that glorious summer day, and it was because of those people that I knew for certain that God still loved our family. I was afraid that He would perhaps turn His back on us but the presence of many who cared assured me that God was present, even in the midst of our personal horror.

Riding in the family coach on the way to the cemetery I watched as people mowed their lawns, played catch with their children, some laughing as they were talking to their friends. I wanted to scream at them to stop. STOP. STOP and cry and wail with me. The whole world, all of you, should stop, everyone should feel the same heart-breaking grief that I‘m feeling. There should be no smiles, no laughter, no joy….not today, not now, maybe not ever again.

It was a fierce good-bye.

Uncle Steve had devised a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

It took months, no it was years slowly turning into decades, to be able to process all that had happened. I read books about suicide, I grieved with friends, cried while singing in church, mourned with tears of unspeakable guilty grief into the early hours of many mornings. To this day there are still more questions than answers. I honestly think Uncle Steve had no idea about the grief others would suffer because of his death, simply because he was hurting so badly himself. I bring up this memory of Uncle Steve to thank you, daughters, for choosing to live even when your marriage gets hard and fractured, when life hurts and everything seems so unfair. When you are in the depths of despair, when your heart is breaking, God walks with you and I will walk with you. He’s there even when you slog through the valley of the shadow of death. He is permanently there. Always. He will never leave you nor forsake you. There is always hope, light, and life, even when life seems hopeless, dim and futile.

Always choose life. Love fiercely.

Love, Mom

Tied to the Mast

June 25, 2015 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

It was a cloudless, beautiful evening in Seattle aboard the MV Skansonia, a retired ferry on Union Lake. Parents, grandparents, aunt and uncles, cousins and friends of Chris and Julia came thousands of miles to witness a 30 minute ceremony of words, watch them exchange a bit of metal and stone, rejoice with a little music and square dancing, feast on scrumptious food.

A wedding, the celebration of the beginning of a marriage, is a time for joyous celebration. Promises made, all of us looking on, cheering, smiling, remembering earlier wedding ceremonies of our own.

When all the bridesmaids, groomsmen, parents and favorite dog processed to their places, Chris stood next to the pastor, his face eager with anticipation to see his beautiful bride. The look of pure joy and desire on both Chris and Julia’s faces was priceless.

After the vows were promised and the rings exchanged, the parents encircled the newly married couple, hands clasped and praying for them during the song Be Thou My Vision.

Vision.

Ever since I turned 40, my eyes have not focused as they used to. I had to buy lenses in order to see clearly. I could have continued on with no help from the magnifying lens but my life would have been drastically curtailed – unable to read books, music or computer pixels.

In the same way, seeing marriage through the lens of God is truly the best way to make a marriage thrive and grow. Since God is the inventor/idea maker of marriage, it would only make sense to read what He has to say about this unique institution so we can have His clear vision of the meaning of marriage.

Think about buying a car. When we purchase something that is completely out of our realm of understanding, it is certainly wise to see what the owner manual says about treating and maintaining our vehicle.

All of us see marriage through distorted lenses of our own experiences. Some who come from a family with a sound marriage will be shocked at how difficult marriage actually is if our parents dealt with their differences behind closed doors. Others, having come out of a dysfunctional home, will have little idea of what a healthy nourishing marriage looks like. In either situation, young lovers will have to deal with selfishness and self-centeredness that is at the core of every human being.

During a short reading from C S Lewis’ Mere Christianity during the wedding ceremony, we were reminded about the difference between romantic love and true committed love. It’s easy to feel ecstatic, floating-on-clouds emotion for a time, but life-long, unwavering, committed love, especially during difficult times, is what will ultimately lead to mature, selfless, true love.

…Love, in the Christian sense, does not mean an emotion. It is a state not of the feelings but of the will; that state of the will which we have naturally about ourselves, and must learn to have about other people…

Pastor JJ reminded us that marriage is a reflection of God’s love. When the world sees a sound, committed marriage, the goodness of God is shared with everyone who witnesses such a love. In our culture today it is a rare delight to see a married couple still enjoying one another after decades of living with each other.

When the Bible speaks of love, it is measured not by how much you want to receive, but how much you are willing to give of yourself to someone. Marriage is to be a covenant love – seen through the lens of God, a love given with promises. Too often today, love is seen through the lens of the world and becomes a consumer love – only living to take what it can get for the lowest possible price.

Tim Keller, in The Meaning of Marriage, tells about a story in Greek mythology. There were creatures called Sirens (half bird, half woman) who would lure Ulysses and his men to destruction with their beautiful songs as the men sailed by their island. Because Ulysses knew of the power of the Sirens and the temporary insanity it would cause him and his men, he instructed the men to plug their ears with wax, tied himself to the mast, and told his men to keep on their course no matter what other instructions he might give.

Ulysses was wise in looking and preparing for the future, knowing that temptations would certainly come, and come with a vengeance. But he also knew that he didn’t want to succumb to the luring voices of the Sirens and be destroyed.

In marriage vows we too declare a mutually binding promise of future love, not merely of the present love that we are feeling. Our public wedding promises, made before many people, are similar to being Tied to the mast.

I’m quite certain that Chris and Julia will stay Tied to the mast of their promises. As they partner with God, their love is built on a firm foundation and will weather the many storms that are bound to come.

I thank you, my daughters, for also staying Tied to the Mast of your promises made on your wedding day. Jesus is doing a beautiful work through those promises.

Love, Mom

You Are My Hiding Place

June 10, 2015 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Every marriage will have storms that descend. It may start as soon as the honeymoon is over. Or it may come at the death of a child or a parent, an addiction – pornography, alcohol – or an outright betrayal. Sometimes it will come when the children grow up and move out, leaving us to wonder who this person is that we’ve been living with for decades. However the storm comes, it can feel like our world is falling apart at the seams. The safe haven meant to be a sanctuary for two hearts in marriage may sometimes feel like the least safe place at all.

Here in Idaho, wind is commonly a part of the weather forecast. Just the other night a storm woke me, howling, rattling the windows and throwing up sticks and twigs from the trees surrounding the house. Looking outside I could see tumbleweeds blowing furiously across the lane, rain pelting the sidewalks and driveway.

Sometimes our lives can feel like that – the forces and circumstances of our worlds seem bent on knocking us to pieces. We may think that we cannot handle one more thing that goes wrong in our life, and then something else does go wrong. We tremble with the knowledge that we may not be able to hang on for another hour.

Dad and I are finally at a place that we are unified, most of the time. Since I have in the past been the Queen of Blame, there are still some days when things go wrong and my mind starts blaming him again. Old habits die hard. At times it’s still a challenge to keep sarcastic remarks from flying out of my mouth. The Evil One is always trying to drive a wedge between us, and of that we can be assured of happening until the day we die.

Today was especially hard for me since I had not fallen asleep until 3 a.m. When I woke, Dad was his normal jovial self, wanting a big hug and kiss and I was not in the mood. I just wanted to grouse in my own private corner and have a personal pity party. I felt like I had a right to be crabby because my insomnia is chronic and my fatigue is constant. So I grumbled at my sad state of affairs and ignored him. He wisely left me alone.

When the tempests arise, whatever else may be going on in your marriage, you know that God is working on your transformation, right? God will use hard times to expose your sin as well as your husband’s. Instead of simply lamenting the storm, it is always wise to seek God and ask, What do you want to expose, what are you after? As hard as it will be, try to accept the work that Jesus is doing in your own character.

Why is marriage so hard? Every one of us is a broken, hurting person, but instead of talking about our pain we often get embarrassed and try to hide it. Unfortunately, if we don’t deal with our pain it will become hurt and pain to others around us as well. Hurting people hurt people.

Thankfully Dad just walked away this morning. He could have taken offense at my attitude and things could have gotten ugly, but he knows me well enough to give me space on days like this. After a few hours I was able to enter the human race once again, barely. I talked about my discouragement with my physical condition, he listened and encouraged me, told me he still loved me. I am continually working on being content whatever the circumstance, but still I fail.

Marriage has its seasons, there are ebbs and flows. The writer of Ecclesiastes 3:2-8 says that there is a time for everything…. A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance…. There are times when you and your man are close, and other times when you feel like the distance of the chasm between you can be measured in light-years. That’s normal. Have patience with yourself and with him.

Jesus tells a story about two houses and how they each fared when the storms hit.

Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash. Matthew 7:24-27

The storms will certainly come, that is a promise. How we respond to those storms depends on our willingness to trust in God and His ways. What are those ways and words of His that we need to put into practice? I love the passage from Colossians:

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.

Corrie ten Boom, the Dutch woman who hid Jews and was sentenced to a Nazi concentration camp because of it, was told by another woman while in prison that the only way a person could survive in the camp was to hate. Corrie’s reply was “Hate can put you in a worse prison than this.”

Even though love and goodness are difficult, they are the best and most powerful weapons in our arsenal. When the winds blow and the waters rise we need to return to some very basic truths.

1) I am loved (Jeremiah 31:3)

2) I am secure (John 10:28-29)

3) I am forgiven (Colossians 2:13)

4) God is with me always and forever (Hebrew 13:4)

Whatever happens, stay close to Jesus. He is your Rock and your Hiding Place, he is your refuge from the storms that descend. I cannot guarantee that your marriage will be healed, that the addict will desire to change, that prodigal children will come back any time soon. But I can assure you that you are deeply and truly loved by your Heavenly Father. I promise that God is with you and will never, ever abandon you; and I guarantee that you can find peace in the midst of the storm.

Love, Mom

What makes a marriage better is to keep on going through the worst.

~Ann Voskamp

Disruptions

May 29, 2015 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

The only difference between stumbling blocks and stepping stones

is how you use them. ~ Unknown

Dear Daughters,

Disruptions.

It’s a word no one likes, but it’s a reality of life. You know how you may have a day planned, a picnic scheduled, a vacation intended, a wonderful life that you imagined, a marriage you had hoped for. And then something comes up to disrupt your plans. Sometimes it’s a physical ailment, other times the rain comes when you’d rather it wouldn’t, a car accident, postponed flights, people who don’t agree with your ideas.

When Dad and I married 39 years ago I had my long-range plan in place – to live a peaceful yet challenging life on a dairy in Idaho. As you know, only four years later my nostalgic plans were disrupted when Dad answered the call to move to Michigan to go to school so he could become a pastor. This was not how I expected my life to unfold.

After living in four different states and 10 different cities, disruptions have become a way of life for us. They have not become any easier, but we have grown accustomed to meeting and getting to know new people again and again.

We are often offended by disruptions. Schedules and busyness can become addictive, making us feel like we are in control of our life. We bring the kids to soccer practice, make sure there are clean clothes for tomorrow so we don’t have to dig some out of the hamper, try to have something edible on the table for dinner, get the homework done, try to have a little quality time with our husband….and the list goes on.

If you remember Bilbo Baggins the Hobbit, he was a person whose life was completely disrupted without his permission. He was called on a journey that he was not prepared for, didn’t sign up for, never remotely volunteered for, and really was not at all interested. But Gandalf came, brought him some friends and comrades and off they went into unknown, uncharted territory. In the end, Bilbo grew up. He did things he never thought himself as being capable to do. He became courageous, brave, bold, daring and creative.

Or think of Dorothy. She too was taken on an adventure unexpectedly because of the tornado. She had not chosen to be carried in her dream to the land of Oz, but once there she made friends with Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion and the Tin Man. On her journey with them she learned compassion, bravery, how to stand up to become a warrior and a leader.

When God disrupts our lives with whatever circumstances he chooses to use, we are not usually too grateful. We would prefer to order our own lives, follow our five-year, maybe ten-year plan for our life. We like to be comfortable, doing things that make us happy. However, God wants us to learn to love others as we love ourselves.

I was so surprised 10 years ago when I read Victory over the Darkness by Neil Anderson and learned that God’s basic goal for my life is character development: being and becoming the person God wants me to be.

Really? That’s it? It sounded too simplistic. I thought it was doing all the right stuff, being a fairly good wife and mother, teaching all my students to sing and play the piano.

Yes, those things are important, but the bottom line is that God wants you to become more loving, patient, joyful, peaceful, faithful and kind. Nobody on earth can keep you from becoming that kind of person. That’s precisely why there are distractions, disappointments, trials and disruptions in our lives. We often interpret the hardships in our lives as “Why is God mad at me?” Instead we need to see them as “God loves me enough to mature me.”

Helen Keller, the woman who was both blind and deaf, wrote: “Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision-cleared, ambition inspired and success achieved.”

So, we have a choice. We can choose to see our tribulations as stumbling blocks, get angry about them, whine and complain about them. Or we can accept disruptions as stepping stones and embrace the changes and challenges that come into our lives, knowing that Jesus will use these incidents to grow us up.

I don’t know of any parent who wants to keep their children in diapers. We want our own children to mature, and God is our Heavenly Father wanting maturity for us as well.

A recent minor disruption in my life came a few weeks ago. Grandma was at the podiatrist and was diagnosed with a toenail and foot fungus. The cure is an anti-fungal lotion to be put on twice a day for months. My first inclination was not “Oh boy, now I can better learn how to love and serve my mom.” Nope, I will be honest and admit that I was grossed out. But as I have been faithful in fighting the fungus I am learning to love her more. She doesn’t remember much these days, but she does remember the pleasant foot massage that comes along with the anti-fungus cream.

God uses disruptions, whether in marriage or other relationships, as a potter’s wheel. We need to remember that He is the potter, we are the clay. He is the one shaping and molding us.

Let God mold you, shape you into His image. For each person the specific story of circumstances will be different, but the Larger Story is always the same. “The goal of our instruction is love.” (I Timothy 1:5) Accept what God allows into your lives with an open hand, willing to see how He wants to teach you how to love. He loves you dearly and is walking with you every day, teaching and encouraging you in every disruption that comes your way.

Love, Mom

Buds and Blooms

May 21, 2015 / Shari Baar / 4 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Grandpa has the most beautiful array of flowers in his garden. In early spring we had yellow daffodils, later on there were pink, white and purple hyacinths. Then came the tulips, tall ones, short ones – yellow, white, yellowish-orange and red. Lilies and irises bloomed about the same time, some with ruffled petals, others as smooth and soft as velvet. All these flowers were those that I had seen over the years in various places around the country. I will admit right now that in the past I really haven’t had much of an interest in flowers.

If you remember, many years ago I always sent you girls to go water the flowers that were outside around the house. Flowers in general seemed to just be a superfluous part of life that I could do without. Watering the flora simply seemed to be another thing to do, and I had enough on my lengthy to do list. (My sincere apologies to my friends at the Weesies Plant Farm in Michigan).

Now that I am gaining in years, however, I have come to appreciate more and more the splendor of the variety and creativity of God in the world of flowers. The most intriguing flower right now in Grandpa’s garden is the paparer orientale or the Oriental Poppy. Since I had never seen his garden in the spring I had no idea what that ugly plant was. When I first saw the bush I thought it was a big weed. Then I noticed numerous buds forming. For weeks we watched the buds grow bigger and at last they have started to open. First there was just one delicate papery flower. Several days later a few more appeared. Today there were seven vibrant red-orange flowers, with about 40 buds still tightly closed but soon ready to blossom.

I Googled the Oriental Poppy and found some interesting facts about this fascinating flower. Poppies typically bloom in the spring and early summer, but by July and August the heat is too much for their delicate foliage and they go dormant. They may look dead, but they are not. In the winter the green plants will not grow, but neither will they die. There is a lot of action going on in the soil, much growth in the roots of the plants during the hot summer and the cold winter, although there is nothing at all to see with our eyes.

You may be wondering what Poppies – known for their rich opium content – have to do with marriage.

Poppies, among millions of other plants and flowers are perennials, meaning that you don’t have to plant them year after year. Like daisies, hostas, lavender, peonies, grasses, peppermint, tarragon, roses and many others, they simply lie dormant over the winter.

Amazingly, they survive below zero weather, blizzards, and many harsh weather conditions. Yet in the springtime they unfurl their prickly leaves, new growth appears from what seems like dead dirt and the miracle of buds and blooms begins again.

There have been many times when our marriage had dormant times. There have been blizzards, below zero as well as scalding temps, and many other harsh conditions in our relationship. Disappointments in each other, disagreements over trivial as well as serious issues. Sometimes it seemed as if there was no hope. For a season, sometimes weeks, other times months, there would be quiet. Words weren’t there. We went through the motions of being a married couple, doing our day to day activities, but really not connecting.

I’m sure all of you have experienced the same.

That initial spark of love seemed to have disappeared; it went dormant for a time. The winter winds blew, yet we continued to hang on to the thread of hope that love could continue to grow and bloom. During these times both Dad and I, not knowing it at the time, were driven to put down deeper roots in our relationship with God. So even though we as a couple did not seem to be growing by talking about our relationship, we were able to circumvent our marriage by going to the Master Gardener of marriages. As we put our roots down deeper with Him we were able to love and accept each other even though we are so opposite in many areas. And then came spring. Buds began to appear, first one, then another, finally more and more. Still no blooms, but at least there were buds, the embryo, the beginning of beauty to come. We trusted the Master Gardener to do the work that no human couple can do on their own, the work of knitting two souls together who had previously become unraveled.

I was thinking the other day about the ups and downs of marriage. Some days Dad and I seem to be as one person, laughing at our past, delighting in life here in Idaho, enjoying a scrumptious meal together, sharing both the hilarious and challenging moments of living with Grandpa and Grandma.

Other days, all I can see are the hurts from the past, remembrances of years gone by. It is a choice I make to continually forgive, replace the difficult memories with those of grace and love. Then the blooms come once again, one by one, growing more beautiful every year.

I pray that you too will choose to allow your roots to grow down deeper into God so that he can teach you how to love like He loves, forgive like He forgives, and show grace and mercy so that your relationship will bloom and you will continually have hope that spring will come again and again in your marriage.

Love, Mom

Everywhere we look God is speaking to us.

His creation is singing to us.

The heavens are shouting it out.

It’s not what it looks like!

There is hope beyond the walls of this world!

~Sally Lloyd-Jones

Thirty-Nine Years

May 8, 2015 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Today Dad and I celebrate our 39^th anniversary. Married in the year of our nation’s Bicentennial, we look in awe at the path on which we have been led. The years have been beautifully landscaped by God, with tall grand mountains alongside yawning dark valleys. There have been roses as well as thorns, dry barren years turning into deep lush times of harvest.

And the two shall become one… (Genesis 2:24).

At humanity’s beginning God spoke those words. Six short words, so easy to say, so easy to write, not so easy to do. Often we assume that the sentence merely means a physical union of marriage, but it is so much more than that. How do two people, thinking that they love each other, really become one in emotion, in their spirituality, in their physical being?

It truly takes a lifetime of learning to trust, learning to love someone who has many flaws, sins, and shortcomings – just like you and I. The wisdom and courage to forgive, learning to give God the things that are His, like your expectations of what you want your marriage to be like. He is the wise, artistic genius who created us and invented marriage, so we can certainly trust Him to enter into our marriages. We can have the confidence that He will lead and guide us, changing and transforming our characters so we can have the marriage that both He and we desire.

Dad and I have been in Idaho now for nearly six months and have missed you terribly. After enjoying our time with all of you and your families last week, I know that all these 39 years have been worth the effort, worth all the blood, sweat, and tears. Of course I knew it before we left, but the sweetness of being together again solidified the gratitude I have for our family.

In the past there have been times when I wanted to check out of marriage and mothering when things got hard. I’m sure all of you have been tempted to run away as well. But I have found that when times get hard, the best thing to do is to burrow deeper into God’s vast ocean of love and mercy. As I look back, I see that my disappointments in marriage have driven me to a deeper intimacy with God.

As we were on the way back from Chicago we saw the most beautiful sunset from above the clouds. We were just flying out of a storm. The sun was fiery orange-red with banks of billowing clouds almost totally surrounding it – you know those clouds that nearly look like grayish-white bubbles sitting on top of each other? And there was the sun peeking through, creating a gorgeous end to the day. Even the flight attendants were exclaiming about the incredible beauty.

As I thought about relationships, and marriage in particular, it seems that oftentimes the greatest splendor comes after a storm – after a fight, misunderstanding, or any other kind of relational mishap. When there are apologies given and forgiveness accepted there is beauty, restoration and peace, but most of all hope. Hope that God can bring beauty from ashes, gladness instead of mourning, and gratitude instead of despair.

You remember the wizened, aged woman who came in and chided us the night we were all at the pool in Chicago? I’ve been thinking about her lately. When she first came in the pool area she beckoned me with her gnarled finger and as I walked over to her she started scolding. She was disgusted with all the water that had been splashed around the pool, the mess of towels hanging on chairs, incensed that there was so much laugher and commotion going on, angry that there were children having fun in the pool – and all this at the young hour of 7:00 p.m.

The reason?

I wonder if it was because she didn’t have a family, had no joy, no celebrating a new birth, no pleasure in seeing little children squeal in delight when they watch their uncle do funny flips into the water. She had come at her appointed time – for 36 years she said – and expected to find a lonely, solitary pool waiting for her to swim and enjoy peace, alone.

I’ve been praying for that woman, praying that she might find some bit of pleasure in younger people, praying that she might learn to rejoice with those who rejoice. That she might learn to smile instead of frown, to laugh instead of squelching joy. One is the loneliest number and I pity those who decline to become a part of a family because it’s just too hard or simply inconvenient. Or perhaps simply given up because of the hurt that sometimes comes from family.

Yes, family is messy, unpredictable, chaotic, sometimes driving us crazy, and yet during other times leaning hard on each other. I thank God for all of you, our daughters, for encouraging Dad and me to persevere and for the joy that comes from being your parents.

Each one of you is going through God’s refining fire in your own lives. You all have your own stories of pain and joy, and I am proud that you are open to His work in your lives, even though it is not easy or what you would ever have chosen for yourselves. I pray that you will learn to thank God more and more for the man that He has entrusted you with. I know there are some days that you may feel like you have made a mistake in marrying your husband, but the best husband for you is the one you have right now.

You really have no idea what depths of companionship are available until you venture into those waters, and hang in there for many years. Besides, your own transformation is barely underway. Who knows all that God has in store for the both of you? ~ John Eldredge in Love and War

I would venture to say that at 39 years we are barely beginning to understand.

Love, Mom

Trust Me

April 22, 2015 / Shari Baar / 6 Comments

Dear Daughters,

A few weeks ago I was helping Grandpa and Grandma prepare for a trip to California with Aunt Rhonda and Valerie. Although they have traveled down south many times in their lives it’s different now that they are older.

Dementia has changed everything.

Although the trip was three days away there were many wonderings, numerous questions, countless concerns. “Who is going to take care of Willow when we’re gone? Will she have enough dog food? Who will feed the cats? Will we have time to fill my eye drop prescription? Who is driving us to the airport? What time do we leave? ” As Grandma carried the calendar from room to room she asked, “What day is it today? How many days until we leave?” The same questions were asked over and over in variation during the course of the preparation days. I simply said “Trust me, Mom. Everything’s ok.”

Even though I had written down the answers to many of her questions, she continually thought up new ones. The day before the departure date, while Grandma and I were packing the luggage together, she assured me that she had never seen that carry-on before. So I let her search through all the closets of the house, and when she couldn’t find the right one she reluctantly agreed to use the one I had chosen at the beginning.

Finally the day came to depart. The luggage was zipped up and ready to go. I needed to go into another room to make a quick phone call so I left for just a few minutes. When I came back the contents of the carry-on were scattered across the table. “I’m just double checking to see if we have everything we need,” said Grandma. With some slight frustration in my voice I again simply said “Trust me, Mom. We’ve got everything you’ll need.”

I smiled to myself, being transported back 20 years ago to when you four girls were young. So much of the same scenario presented itself except that now it’s my mother instead of my children doing these things.

An interesting part of this story is that a few days earlier we had 15 people over to the house, hosting an evening of music with some friends who love to sing. The pianist for the evening was Grandma. She was full of smiles as she welcomed guests at the door, and was sharp as a whip at the piano.

All she needed was a sheet of paper with the names of the songs and the key in which she played them. Whenever anyone chose a song from the prepared song sheet, they simply requested the song of their choice and within five seconds Grandma had the introduction in motion – flourishing arpeggios included.

It amazes me that one person can still be so gifted, yet have such deficits in other areas. But isn’t that just like all of us? We all shine in some way or another, yet have other areas that are not so shiny.

After Aunt Rhonda and Valerie left for California with Grandpa and Grandma, I got thinking about all the anxiety and worries that Grandma had been plagued with. And I wondered if we ever look that way to God.

Spiritual dementia.

We ask so many questions, What am I going to wear today? Should I change jobs? How are we going to pay all the bills this month? Will there be enough water for the crops to grow well this year? What if my marriage fails? How about my friends, will they stick near me or will I be abandoned? What if a tornado strikes our home?

On and on the doubts arise, the questions come over us like waves. Does God really care about all the details of my life? What about the choices my kids are making? What if I get sick and can’t work? What if identity theft happens to me?

Though it all God is constantly saying “Trust Me. I love you, I care about you. Trust Me. I will never leave you or forsake you. Trust Me.” I’ve had many anxieties over the years, betrayals, rejection – just like all of you. But as I look back on those years, God has given provision and comfort at every turn.

However, one thing he has not provided is understanding. I would love to know the what, where and why of many circumstances, but that would take away the necessity of faith. Of simple trust.

Things have often been difficult – in my marriage, in my work, in my mothering. But I have learned to trust, sometimes grudgingly, sometimes simply repeating the words “I Trust You” when there is no emotion and very little faith behind it, and at rare times with assurance.

Looking back on six decades of life there are still times when voices from the past – condemning, accusing, mocking voices still haunt. During those times too the words “Trust Me” have been woven like a thread throughout my existence. There were years that I didn’t trust, thought that I knew better than God so I did it my way, which brought sure misery. There were times when I, just like my mother, looked through all the closets for a different way, an easier way to live, and God watching and letting me search until I could find nothing else that satisfied. When I finally turned back to the words of truth: Trust in the Lord and do good. Love your husband – just as he is, let go of your children and let me lead them… Then, and only then did I find sweet peace.

Now that we’re here caring daily for Grandpa and Grandma I still need to listen to God’s voice saying “Trust Me” during the days of uncertainty, questioning and repetition. And I pray that you, my beautiful daughters will learn to say those precious words “I Trust You” as well.

Love, Mom

Arranged Marriages

April 15, 2015 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

In our family we have always joked that Dad and I had an arranged marriage. Grandma Koopman invited him over to our house for dinner, made sure he was a part of our water skiing outings on the Snake River, had us sing duets together in church and generally encouraged the relationship significantly. Grandma Baar too played her part by buying me such thoughtful, practical gifts.

As in many courtships, he wasn’t the man I had in mind for a husband. He was too short and too old. I was looking for a guy at least 5 inches taller than me (I’m 5’ 10” and he was my exact height) plus he was five years older than me (at 19, a 24-year-old seemed terribly old.) But as I got to know Dad those physical characteristics didn’t matter much at all. Within 18 months we were married.

Did you know that in our world today, over half of all marriages occur between a man and woman who have never felt a bit of romantic love for each other? Teenagers in most parts of Asia and Africa take it for granted that their spouse will be chosen for them by their parents, just as we take for granted that we will fall in love with the man of our dreams. In our American culture, people tend to marry because they are attracted to another’s physical and other appealing qualities. Over time, however, these qualities will change. Our physical bodies, especially, will deteriorate when we age. It is inevitable that many unexpected surprises will surface. None of us really know the man that we marry. If the truth be known, we barely know much about ourselves. Stanley Hauerwas says:

We never know whom we marry; we just think we do. Or even if we first marry the right person, just give it a while and he or she will change. For marriage, being the enormous thing it is, means we are not the same person after we have entered it. The primary problem is…learning how to love and care for the stranger to whom you find yourself married.

Philip Yancey in his book Grace Notes, ponders how the “spirit of arranged marriages” might transform our mentality in the West. The partners in an arranged marriage do not center their relationship on mutual attractions. Because your parents have decided whom you will marry, you simply accept that you will live for many years with someone you have just recently met. Unlike the Western question of “Whom should I marry?” the question that now comes to the forefront is “Given this partner, what kind of marriage can we construct together?”

Many people who have been married for any length of time may think, Love shouldn’t be this hard; it should come naturally. But if we look at any other discipline in life, we notice that it takes work and practice. Would someone who wants to play professional golf say It shouldn’t be so hard to get that ball into a little hole 300 yards away? I have had many piano students who start lessons, and then a few years down the road quit because they remark It looked so easy, why is it taking so long to sound good?

There is nothing in life that comes easy, especially not loving our husbands. Marriage is a continual dying to ourselves and learning to put other’s needs before our own. Sometimes we may lament that we have married the wrong person. But keep in mind that we never marry the right person because the quest for perfect compatibility simply does not exist. Your marriage was not an accident, it was arranged by God and He will give you the strength to continue to love, forgive, and be good to your man. No, it will not be easy but it is certainly worth the time and effort that it takes.

Over the years you will definitely go through seasons in which you have to learn to love a person you didn’t marry, someone who seems like a stranger to you. You will change, he will change. But the beauty of marriage is that God will give you the ability to face and adapt to whatever new circumstances may come your way.

I married a dairyman but that only lasted for 4 years. Dad then became a seminary student and eventually a pastor. It’s certainly not what I planned on or signed up for, but I have learned to love, and let me emphasize learned to love. It did not come easy, and neither did Dad’s love for me, especially when I became sick and could no longer live the active life that I once did.

As Denis de Rougemont so wisely said “Why should neurotic, selfish, immature people suddenly become angels when they fall in love…?” Raw, natural talent never made a pro golfer or an accomplished pianist. It takes endurance, discipline and plain old hard work to do anything well. But the good news it, it’s possible and it is worth it.

I love the promise in Galatians 6:9, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest, if we do not give up.” God rewards the faithful and I rejoice as I witness the good that He is doing in all of your marriages.

Love, Mom

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

3 John 1:4

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdzve-iE2JA

Branches and Trees

Page 18 of 22

Efficiency…

A Fierce Good-bye

Tied to the Mast

You Are My Hiding Place

Disruptions

Buds and Blooms

Thirty-Nine Years

Trust Me

Arranged Marriages

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