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Photosynthesis and Rest

October 20, 2020 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

It’s a beautiful time of year to arrive back in the colorful state of Michigan. After being here for almost a month, my eyes never tire of the brilliant yellow, radiant red and every foliage shade in between. Some days the skies are blue, sometimes gray, yet the leaves brighten up even a dreary rainy day of clouds.

Moving is hard work, I don’t care what anyone says. Packing up, making decisions, saying good-bye and driving cross country is a challenge. Some days tempers flare, misunderstandings erupt, and differences of opinion on which stuff is important and which is not. A few days ago someone told me the cardinal rule for her and her husband is to let go of anything said 30 days before and 30 days after a move – which sounds quite sensible at this point.

So now we’re here and still many decisions need to be made, accounts need to be opened, learning where the stores are – still plenty to think about – yet the deadline is over, the boxes wait patiently to be opened and emptied. There is now rest of sorts. Not total and complete rest, but rest in a renewal sort of way. There is family to reconnect with, new friends to make, relationships to deepen, which is in some ways the same, yet different from our Idaho way of life.

A few days ago, I was reading about the miracle of photosynthesis. I confess I don’t remember much from my science classes decades ago, but I do remember the word, and having something to do with leaves changing color in autumn.

Apparently, during the winter there isn’t enough water and light for producing food, so the trees take a rest. As they do, the green chlorophyll disappears from the leaves revealing bits of yellow and orange that have been there all along. We just can’t see those colors in the summer because they are covered up by the green.

I find it fascinating how bright and beautiful colors come only when efficiency shuts down.

Shutting down.

Resting.

Many people in our society view productivity as the only way to show our worth, prove we are capable of earning our way. Demonstrate that we are worth the air we breathe, verify the validity of our existence here on the planet.

Jesus always took time to rest. In fact, thousands of years ago God commanded that we rest one day a week. How gracious. He knows our humanity is not able to keep on going and going and still be able to create, restore and renew.

Some of my most healing times have come when I rest. Simply laying on the couch, chatting with a friend, reading a book, journaling. It is only then, when I slow down, ask God for wisdom and listen to His voice, that I can be revived. It is true that much of my resting time comes uninvited, some days I have no choice, yet my most renewing times have come when my activity comes to a halt.

Unless we take time to sit in silence, ponder the big picture and seek God’s wisdom, we will continue to be busy busy busy, yet feel more ragged, drained and critical.

Remember to rest, let your productivity lessen, and allow the beautiful fall colors to be seen in you.

Love, Mom

Farewell to Idaho

September 13, 2020 / Shari Baar / 14 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Once again I am in the middle of boxes, piles, decisions, and emotions. Boxes of things to be thrown out or given away, piles of memories to be sorted through, decisions of what goes where, and emotions scattered all across the landscape.

After living for almost six years in the beautiful state of Idaho, learning to be caretakers for Grandma and Grandpa and sitting with them as they took their final breaths, we are almost packed up and ready to move back to Michigan. It’s difficult to leave after finding new friends, renewing ties with so many relatives, and experiencing the many challenges connected with the end of the precious lives of my parents.

Even though we have moved over 10 times in our marriage, it never gets easier. I have said hello and good-bye to more friends than I can remember, and every time there are tears of farewell, tears of remorse for what I have lost, a breaking heart for what could have been and wasn’t.

I guess I could have chosen not to love. Not to open my heart to new friends, new experiences, a different culture and landscape. But that alternative doesn’t look at all pleasant to me. Because I dislike the grief of saying that dreaded word good-bye, perhaps I should simply say,

God be with you till we meet again.

As CS Lewis wrote many years ago:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

So we leave with heavy hearts, joy-filled hearts, broken hearts and hearts full of anticipation to what God has in store for us in Michigan. It will be lovely to live near all of you our daughters and families, while at the same time looking forward to friends we will come to know and love as well.

I am reminded of the beauty and struggle of faithfulness, highlighted in marriage, as we prepare to move. Though Dad and I have had arguments during the process of this move – differing opinions of what stays what gets thrown away and what comes with us, we fought for love, for understanding and for grace – a battle not easily won, but so worth the fight.

The rugged beauty of Idaho parallels my emotions throughout the years we’ve spent here. There are dry dusty deserts, high beautiful mountains, lush fertile valleys, slow snaking rivers alongside brilliant cascading waterfalls, all typically accompanied by azure blue skies.

There have been times I’ve felt dry and desolate as I watched Grandpa and Grandma fail and eventually breathe their last …

The mountaintop times of celebrating new friendships and then loss as I’ve watched those same friends move away…

Learning to trust God in the valleys, walking through previously uncharted territory when dealing with dementia in Grandma, becoming a mother figure to my own mom…

The simple pleasures of picking grapes, blackberries, apples, plums, cherries and roses all because of Grandpa’s vision of planting a small twig of a tree or a grapevine knowing someday it would yield a bountiful harvest…

Watching the careful pruning Grandpa would always do in his garden, knowing that old wild vines and overgrown trees would never grow beautiful fruit. They had to be trimmed, the old limbs cut off till it sometimes looked as if they were hopelessly dead, yet in just a little while new green shoots and leaves would be flourishing…

So much to learn in this cycle of life, of living, growing and dying – yet, all the while knowing that Jesus is walking ahead of us, a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path, leading the way he has planned for us to go.

God is good and His will is that we live responsibly today and trust Him for tomorrow. It’s hard, it hurts, but I know it’s the only way that will bring joy. So, to my dear friends I’m leaving in Idaho and have yet to meet in Michigan,

May the road rise to meet you,

May the wind be always at your back

The sun shine warm upon your face

The wind blow soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

(The Old Irish Blessing)

Love, Mom

Sunflowers Among Sagebrush

September 6, 2020 / Shari Baar / 6 Comments

Dear Daughters,

When Dad and I were in Idaho, we drove out to the Camas Prairie, a wilderness where there are lots more cattle than people. There’s probably a lot more acreage than the number of residents as well. Deciding to take a shortcut to our destination, we turned onto a dusty dirt road – of which there are many in Idaho.

We drove for miles and miles seeing mostly sagebrush, lava, unadorned mountains and rocks. It’s a lovely desolate drive and quite diverse from the valley in which we used to live, so we drove bumpity-bump along a slightly graveled road, enjoying the bare dry desert.

Suddenly we came upon the prettiest little sunflowers lining that dry simple road. I was shocked and amazed, wondering how there was enough moisture for them to grow in this parched, deserted country. Seeing these flowers in the midst of an otherwise barren land was such a delight and brought a smile to my face as I wondered how the seeds ever received enough water to flourish on the sides of the road, bringing beauty and color to the Camas Prairie.

As we continued to travel, the sagebrush, dirt and rocks reminded me of the culture we are now living in daily. It has become a culture of outrage, a culture of desolation, everyone wanting their opinion to be heard, harsh answers, brutal judgments of others – a cancel culture. Sadly, many believe,

If you don’t agree with me, I will cancel you as a person, I will cut you out of my life and count you as non-human with no value whatsoever.

Once we start thinking of people in this manner, we are basically throwing rocks and dirt at each other. It’s unpleasant, ugly, dangerous and divisive. Whenever a person is labeled only as part of an ethnic people group, a religious ideology or a certain political leaning, we have certifiably canceled them as a human being.

Every society creates dividing lines among people groups, categorizing them into hierarchies of importance according to the powers that be. We have all created caste systems in our own minds which are often acted out toward those we deem worthy or not worthy of our acceptance.

Jesus had 12 disciples and there was incredible diversity within that group of men. Four were blue collar workers (fishermen), one was a tax collector working for the Roman government (think IRS), another was a Zealot – usually from a political party desiring to get out from under Roman rule. Diverse, yet learning to become united under Jesus, they grew in unity. Yes they had their disagreements, some thinking they were better than the others – they were typical humans. But Jesus taught them how to love each other and those who were not like them in belief or ethnicity – the weak, the sick, the blind, the sex-workers and the forgotten. Anyone who was human and came near Jesus was treated with dignity.

In his book, A Gentle Answer, Scott Sauls reminds us that Jesus loved us at our worst and if we are followers of Jesus, we are commanded to love others at their worst. He says,

Jesus has been gentle toward us, so we have good reason to become gentle toward others, including those who treat us like enemies. “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of Your Father who is in heaven.” Matt. 5:43-45. Because Jesus has covered all of our offenses, we can be among the least offensive and the least offended people in the world. This is the way of the gentle answer.

Having a gentle answer has nothing to do with being weak. Weakness is often shown in destruction and trauma to other people’s bodies and physical property. Weakness is using intimidation and wrath, harming others with words, belittling someone who disagrees with you. Anyone can let anger overtake their emotions and act out in violence, destroying with rage anything in their path. It’s easy to criticize and tear down.

Speaking a gentle answer, especially toward those you disagree with, takes an incredible amount of restraint, a strength that requires the deepest and most courageous kind of faith. A faith that ultimately believes in the justice of God, that He will work good out of evil – but in His time, not ours.

Seeing those delicate beautiful sunflowers among all the dry and brittle sage brush is a reminder of what kind words and a gentle answer look like in our culture of shouting opinions and judgments on others. We have no power to change anyone’s opinion or ideology, especially not by belittling and mocking but we do have power to change ourselves and give a respectful and kind response to whatever words come our way.

Lord, give us strength to give a gentle answer and become sunflowers in a desert wasteland.

Love, Mom

Anxiety and the Old Testament

July 17, 2020 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

I used to be embarrassed by the Old Testament. With all the traumatic events mentioned during those thousands of years – murder, sexual exploitation, military invasions, natural disasters, political scandals, family dysfunction – I used to think it was all a bit too racy to be included in a holy book. I remember pondering,

If I were God and wanted people to love and believe in me, I would have sanitized those stories, made them a bit more neat and tidy, kept out the ugliest sections…

Good thing I’m not God…

The older I get and the more time I spend reading the Old Testament, the more I’m amazed at how comforting it is to read about people who have lived through dreadful life stories and have come through with even greater trust in their Creator.

Take Abraham and the promise God gave him when he was 75 years old – that he would become the father of many nations. It finally happened when he was 100 – impatiently waiting for a promise that took 25 years to fulfill. In the meantime, there was strife in the household as Abraham and his barren wife Sarah tried to help God out by having Abraham sleep with her maidservant and birth a child using their own wisdom. Which, by the way, made a big mess out of the original plan. Yet, as God always does, he brings good out of evil and his promises do come to pass – not a moment too soon or too late.

And then there’s Moses. When God chose him to deliver His people from slavery in Egypt, he gave God every possible reason why he shouldn’t be the one. He was not an orator, he was scared, nervous and tried to convince God to choose someone else. Moses had murdered an Egyptian 40 years earlier and had extreme fear and trembling, unconvinced he was the one to lead a million people cross-country through the desert. Yet, he reluctantly agreed. God showed up when He said he would, working through Moses with his brother Aaron as his mouthpiece, and the rest is 40 years of desert history.

Remember Naomi, the widow who lost not only her husband but both sons to death within about ten years? She asked others to call her Mara, meaning bitter, instead of Naomi, which means pleasant:

The Strong one has dealt me a bitter blow. I left here [Bethlehem] full of life and God has brought me back with nothing but the clothes on my back. Why would you call me Naomi? God certainly doesn’t. The Strong One ruined me. Ruth 1:20

She was acrimonious toward God, resentful, and near hopeless. Amazing to me, God allowed those words of hers to be recorded for millions of others to read. Even though she had given up on God, He had not given up on her and had planned a good ending for the tragic story she was living. When she returned to her home in Bethlehem along with her daughter-in-law Ruth, God provided a husband for Ruth, who in turn gave birth to a son – Naomi’s grandson – who ended up becoming an ancestor of King David and was named in the genealogy of Jesus Christ.

God loved Naomi back to life again. She was no longer bitter and empty, but became full and satisfied. It took years of heartache, honesty, pain and a long obedience in the same direction, but she was healed of her grief.

God isn’t afraid of letting it be known publicly that his people sometimes don’t trust him. He’s not ashamed that he is perceived as harsh, unfair and demanding. He lets us speak our emotions, even though they may not be the truth about who he is. Yet he humbly conceals Himself as he works all things together for good – to those who love him. As CS Lewis writes:

We may ignore but we can in no way evade the presence of God.

The world is crowded with him.

He walks everywhere incognito.

My friend Kara’s favorite story in the OT is about Samson. Samson the womanizer, the royal screw-up, the proud and arrogant man who disobeyed God and lived a haughty and egotistical life. Yet in the end he was humbled and God was able to do mighty things through him.

Samson is the last Biblical person I would admire, yet that story gave my friend great hope that even with all her failures and sin, God has and is still redeeming her life in amazing ways. His mercies never fail, He never gives up on us.

Whenever we read Facebook or Instagram posts of seemingly perfect people and families, taken at a moment of peace and success, we seem to assume this is everyday normal for them. The Old Testament, however, shows characters as real people – their struggles, weaknesses, failures and joys – and how God works through all of them to bring about good to those who will receive it. For me, the stories remove anxiety because it’s not the people themselves who pose as heroes but are shown for who they are, as fallen humans in the hands of a merciful God.

Do not fear for I am with you;

Do not be dismayed for I am your God;

I will strengthen you and help you;

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10

These stories give me great confidence. When I see how God has worked through all those people of old, how He was never in a hurry, how He continued to forgive, how His love was and is so long-suffering and patient – it gives me hope. It helps me to trust and believe that God is who he says he is, He keeps his promises. He is the same yesterday, today and forever.

When I look at all the uncertainty of our age, the virus, the anger and divisions between people groups, the pandemic of fear and anxiety trying to infect us all – I stop and read these stories. I read and re-read them, and it brings me peace. This is not the first time the world has been a tough place to live and it won’t be the last – there is indeed nothing new under the sun.

Take heart and know God cares about you, just like he has cared about all those people living thousands of years ago. He has not forgotten you, he has not forgotten about us as His people. He’s working through all of us – together.

Give all your worries and cares to God,

for he cares about you.

1 Peter 5:7

Love, Mom

The Symphony is Over

June 21, 2020 / Shari Baar / 5 Comments

Dear Daughters,

The music is over. Taps has been played, the dirt has been shoveled on the casket, we have all said our goodbyes. Tears have flowed, hugs given, the scent of fragrant flowers and memories still lingering as we left the cemetery.

Six weeks ago, Grandpa said the same thing he has said numerous times during the last few years:

I’m going downhill like a rocket.

Inevitably the next days he would improve and we would continue on with our song of life. So it was no surprise when he commented about the rocket again. The only difference being that this time he didn’t improve.

Hospice came to the house and gave him military honors, Chaplain Dick presenting Grandpa with a certificate thanking him for his service in World War II. Tawnya, Jean and Dick – all from Hospice – videotaped a Life Review as I asked questions and he willingly told stories.

Grandpa’s heart was tired, it had served him faithfully for 94 years but grew steadily weaker by the day.

My memories of you four girls calling just a few hours before Grandpa died, will forever be in my heart. We had planned for your singing at 8:30 Monday evening, but I didn’t think he would live that long. Fifteen minutes later you were on the phone, singing:

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now I’m found,

Was blind but now I see.

How beautiful hearing the melody along with tears and wavering voices for several more verses. And then, as Grandma would always have it, we just had to modulate to the next step higher. Whenever Grandma would play hymns on the piano she could never stay in the same key – we always had to go higher and with more intensity.

The last verse was the final anthem he heard in his life here on earth:

When we’ve been there 10,000 years

Bright shining as the sun.

We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise

Then when we first began….

Grandpa had not spoken or opened his eyes for over 12 hours, but when he heard your voices his eyes fluttered open momentarily. He was breathing slowly but steadily. Two hours later he was gone.

The celebration of life at church was beautiful:

Amazing Grace

I Can Only Imagine…

Wind Beneath My Wings

I’ll Fly Away

The Dutch song Lang Zal se Leven

And finally,

The Hallelujah Chorus

Every night when Dad and I would come home after a day away, Grandpa would say

I’m glad you’re home Shari.

We would leave a few days a week, leaving Grandpa in the care of friends and helpers. And every time we would come home his remark was always the same:

Shari, I’m glad you’re home.

And now, after five and a half years of Grandpa saying that to me, I can say to him:

I’m glad you’re home, Dad.

Love, Mom

A Grateful Life

May 20, 2020 / Shari Baar / 13 Comments

Dear Daughters,

After 94 years Grandpa’s chest is still, his heart no longer beating. He was sleeping peacefully in his favorite chair, and then he was gone. The struggle is over, he has met Jesus face to face.

During the previous few days the house has been full of people saying good-bye, recalling stories from the past, memories of his time shared with them, shouldering the pain and sadness of dying with us. From laughter to tears, to hugs and handshakes, the days have been rich, beautiful, difficult and sad.

Ginger, the Hospice nurse came and saw some of our family here to visit Grandpa and commented to him,

You are a lucky man to have so many people around you.

Immediately he said,

I don’t believe in luck.

I am blessed.

He is blessed, we are blessed – by his generosity, kindness and humor. Every day the nurse would come in and ask, how are you doing, Lou? And every day, as long as he could speak he would say, I’m great.

This evening it is silent, painfully quiet. No more breathing treatments, the oxygen machine is still. Willow, Grandpa’s faithful dog sits quietly beside his friend’s chair wondering what has happened.

A few weeks ago I gave Grandpa a bell he could ring if he needed me. The bell had a beautiful tone, deep and rich. The first few times he rang it I felt like coming in the room standing straight and tall saying – just like Lurch from The Addams Family – You rrrang? But I didn’t, I just asked what he needed.

He never asked for much, help to get up, a glass of water, reminding me he was ready to go to sleep.

A few mornings ago he woke up agitated, wanting to get out of his bed, yet knowing he was unable to walk anymore we couldn’t let him. So I started singing hymns to him. Because of his lifetime of singing plus the tradition of singing a hymn every night after dinner with Dad and I, he knew many of them by memory and started whispering a few of the words as I sang.

Amazing Grace

In the Garden

The Old Rugged Cross

Great Is Thy Faithfulness…

He relaxed, laid back to rest and grew calm. My mouth got dry but I kept on singing.

Yesterday morning he was agitated again so Aunt Rhonda and I decided to sing You Are My Sunshine. Surprisingly, we remembered all three verses so sang with gusto, being quite pleased with ourselves. But as we were nearing the end of the song Grandpa remarked with a wave of his hand, OK, that’s enough sunshine. What works one day doesn’t always work the next…

Thank you. Those precious words were the most consistent and common words I heard from Grandpa. He was so pleased to be able to die in his own home, surrounded by those he loved and was grateful for all the care he received. Jolene, Judy, Merilee, Ione, Dotty – all friends and helpers faithfully coming to help for days, months, some for years, have become part of our family.

From the moment we are born, we are in the process of dying. We don’t often think about life that way but it’s true. Some of us live a full life, others don’t. But we all can make the choice to live our one life well, because even though our bodies are wasting away, our Creator Jesus renews our spirits day by day.

Love, Mom

The First Time

May 14, 2020 / Shari Baar / 22 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Tonight, for the first time ever, Grandpa needed help to go to bed. Just a month ago he was able to do the bedtime routine on his own but now he needs an oxygen machine to take his every breath. Dad and I follow him down the hall, Dad pushing R2D2 and me carrying the tubing. In the short time of a single day he forgot what to do next in getting ready for sleep. The familiar words

What do I do next?

What do I do now?

What do I do?

echo back in my mind as Grandma would say the same phrases toward the end of her time here on earth. The world seems to be a scary and confusing place right now for Grandpa, his words come out in a whisper when I ask him if he needs anything else. His legs give out, he falls, we help him up – oh how difficult life is for him whose eyes have seen so many sunsets.

My mind goes back to my young, strong dad – working in the barn, the fields, in his workshop – always working with his hands. Then I think about my decades older dad when he still worked in his shop, pulled some weeds, drove his Gator around, picked apples, fell in the garden and simply rolled over and stood up again.

Today Pastor Gary and Arie came to serve communion to Grandpa, Dad, Aunt Rhonda and I. Gary is so thoughtful, remembering to bring a coffee cup with an attached lid containing grape juice since Grandpa’s tremors prevent him from using a small cup.

I’m not sure I’ve ever celebrated a more precious communion. Here we were sitting with our Pastor, all of us encouraging, suffering and grieving with Grandpa who is so ready to be with his Savior.

Love, faithfulness, friendship, family and communion – especially near the end of life, there are no greater gifts given than these.

Everything is different now. After I put him to bed last night I went back to my own bedroom and wept. Tears of weariness, tears of sadness, of seeing a life slowing down and coming toward a close.

Hospice is a beautiful group of friends, of people who love and care for Grandpa as much as we do. They walk through the hard, sad times alongside us with joy. I am grateful.

We are meant for eternity, and for eternity we shall live. It’s just that the door to our heavenly place is uncharted territory and difficult to walk through. But walk we will, and we trust Jesus to bring us all safely home in His time.

Love, Mom

Four Anchors

April 26, 2020 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

I’ve been kinda crabby lately. Somedays I just wake up angry. Dad is annoying me – not intentionally – I’ve just become easily annoyed. Uncertainty, knowing this world is not what it used to be, the palpable fear and panic in people’s eyes and voices is taking a toll on us all.

Rebekah Lyons summarized my emotions well:

I woke up hoppin’ mad a couple days ago for reasons I couldn’t explain. Maybe because the adrenaline of a new challenge has worn off, Ground Hog Day has kicked in, the month of positivity and reset is over, and isolation feels indefinite.

We’re all in this pandemic together, but the thoughts we entertain can cause either anxiety and fear or bring us peace. If I try to look too far into the future and consider what might happen to all of you, your children and our world, I become anxious because the future holds much ambiguity. But if we’re honest, the future has always been uncertain. We’ve never had a playbook for the future. We may have had the illusion of control, but in all reality it was just that, an illusion.

Now, however, the deception is gone forever. One little virus seems to be virtually ruling the entire world – except for the cool continent of Antarctica.

How then shall we think? The thoughts we think become our emotions which in turn drives everything we say and do.

On what anchors for our soul can we truly rely? Mark Batterson points out in Acts 27, when Paul and many others had been on a ship for 14 days in a severe storm on the Adriatic Sea, there was fear that they would be dashed against the rocks, so …they dropped four anchors from the stern and prayed for daylight.

The only true words I know, which can be anchors for our soul, those which have been true for millennium, are out of the #1 Bestseller of all time – The Bible. Here’s a few anchors I have been dropping in my mind lately in order to keep free from anxiety:

The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger,

abounding in love. Psalm 103:8

Psalm 103 is one of my favorite Psalms, it speaks throughout about how He has brought me out of the pit, crowned me with love and compassion, satisfies me with good things, and forgives all my sins. Although King David who wrote this song lived 1,000 years before Jesus, his words still ring true today.

My second anchor is:

For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are Your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:8-9

Since God is the Creator of everything seen and unseen as well as the Creator of me, it is an undeniable fact that His thoughts are higher than mine. An astrophysicist has estimated our universe to be about 93 billion light years. Since a single light-year is the distance light travels in one year (around 6 trillion miles) and He has created everything within our universe, I know He’s a lot wiser than I. It’s a bit like comparing my thoughts to an ant’s thoughts – though a trillion times more. He understands many things I cannot even imagine. I don’t always like or even understand His thoughts, but I believe they are true and good.

The third anchor for my soul is Romans 8:28:

For we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to his purpose.

Notice He doesn’t say all things are good. It’s a well-known fact that bad things happen to good people, life is unfair… Yet, God is the God of great reversals, He brings light out of darkness, life out of death. Just remember the stories of Joseph, Job, Ruth, Esther, King David and Jesus. They all went through dark, scary, uncertain times, yet God eventually brought good out of everything.

Of course there were years of grief, heartache and despair, yet the ending in every single story was good. Reading the Old Testament stories are a wonderful antidote for anxiety. And since Jesus says he is the same yesterday, today and forever, I believe He will bring good out of this tragedy as well.

And my fourth anchor is 2 Timothy 1:7

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of love, and of power, and of a sound mind.

Just repeating this verse gives me comfort. It reminds me that fear doesn’t come from God – only love, power and a sound mind come from Him.

All fear is but the notion that God’s love ends,

says Ann Voskamp.

So even though it sounds simple to keep these four anchors in my mind, it is not easy. The dire predictions for the future will come, yet I will – with the help of the Holy Spirit – believe that this world is not my home, I’m just-a-passin’ through. Then my soul is at peace, and amazingly, joy and love slip in the back door. I will not get annoyed so easily at circumstances out of my control.

In the first book of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Frodo – the bearer of the Ring – laments that a great evil has disrupted his life.

I wish it need not have happened in my time, he says.

Gandalf responds with both compassion and wisdom:

So do I, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.

I think I will decide to hang on to the anchors that will steady me in the time of this storm and wait for the daylight.

Love, Mom

Thanksgiving at the Table

April 9, 2020 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

This week I have been meditating on how Jesus spent the last few days of His short life here on earth. I find it quite astounding that the day before he was brutally murdered, he celebrated the Jewish Passover meal with his 12 disciples.

In Israel, over 2,000 years ago where the Last Supper was celebrated, people walked most everywhere they traveled. It was common in those days after coming into someone’s home to have a servant wash the guests’ feet. The dusty roads in first century Israel made it imperative for feet to be washed before a meal since people usually reclined at a low table and dirty feet would be quite evident.

What was surprising the night of this meal, was that Jesus already knew that his traitor, Judas Iscariot, was just about ready to leave and collect his 30 pieces of silver – a reward for betraying his teacher. He knew Peter was soon to deny that he even knew Jesus, and the other ten disciples would scatter in fear. Yet, Jesus knelt down in humility and servanthood, took a towel and stooped before each one of those disciples. He washed their feet, all 24 of them, dried them, then walked back and took his place at the table.

I have heard this story many times, so many in fact that in years past I had skimmed over those facts, not paying much attention to them. But somehow, this year the whole story simply stuns me. Why would Jesus, the Creator of the world, stoop down and be so kind and generous to his friends who often argued among themselves who would be the greatest in this new Kingdom?

And then, even though he knew all of the beating, mocking, whipping and nails that were soon to unveil, he took the loaf of bread in front of him and gave thanks. Gave thanks??

What was there to give thanks about?

A group of friends who were going to run away in a few hours?

Give thanks for the Roman soldiers who would soon flog him?

Give thanks as he listened to his own people shout for his death?

I was just rereading the story of Aslan’s death in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. CS Lewis portrays the time before the killing of the great Lion:

A great crowd of people were standing all around the Stone Table and though the moon was shining many of them carried torches which burned with evil-looking red flames and black smoke. But such people! Ogres with monstrous teeth, and wolves, and bull-headed men; spirits of evil trees and poisonous plants…Cruels and Hags and Incubuses, Wraiths…

Then the Witch gave a wild, fierce laugh. ‘The fool! The fool has come. Bind him fast.’

For many people in that day, and even today, what Jesus did was utterly foolish. What kind of King would let his people treat him as they did? A King who loved his people so much he was willing to die in their place.

As Ann Voskamp wisely writes:

God is love – thus He only gets to define love.

And He defines love as cross-shaped, cross-formed, stretched out, formed into a reaching givenness that leaves the heart breathtakingly vulnerable.

True love is willing to open oneself to hurt and heartache – all the while thanking God in spite of all the betrayal, lies and fear showing their ugliness through people in our lives. We have all hurt others, we have all betrayed friends, we have all told lies to make ourselves look better.

Yet we are all welcomed to come to Jesus, the bridge between God and man.

If Jesus was able to give thanks on the eve of his death, focusing on the needs of others before his own, surely I can give thanks during this week as we live in a time of pandemic, uncertainty of the future, and lessened contact with those I love.

Giving thanks, in both times of joy as well as times of anguish, gives voice to the fact of our certainty and belief in the love of our Savior. Although the world has changed, our Savior has not and is as close as He has always been.

Love, Mom

Fly Away on a Goose?

March 26, 2020 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Last week I was walking outside and saw three groups of geese, flying in their typical V formations, each following the other. Because it had been a hard day – Grandpa is failing and the extra care that entails, the pandemic which is affecting us all – I longed to hop on one of those geese and fly away into the beautiful blue sky.

I remember when caring for Grandma at the end stages of dementia over three years ago, I had the same thought – wanting to run away from responsibilities, flee from the hard stuff, fly away and be free of trouble, heartache, aging and death.

So, last night I watched the movie Winged Migration thinking I could imagine the carefree, flying-high life of a bird. It’s a lovely 2002 film chronicling the migration patterns of storks, swan, geese, eagles, sage grouse, terns, penguins and other feathered friends I had never heard of before.

I had no idea that many of these birds travel from 1,000 to 2,500 miles every year. Now I know there are lots of good wind currents available for flying up above the earth but that’s still a lot of wing flapping and energy exerted as they fly from one continent to another.

While watching the movie I learned about the many obstacles migrating birds face as they fly on their yearly journeys.

*They often endure hostile weather conditions, storms which may blow them off their intended path.

*Their vulnerability to predators, both human, animal and other birds of prey, is considerably worse than what I imagined.

*Collisions with objects like tall buildings, airplanes or wind turbines can be an unexpected danger.

*Inadequate food supplies can lead to starvation of the birds.

After watching the movie and learning about all the hazards these winged creatures face during their travels, my desire to fly away on one of their backs lessened considerably. It often seems like other people or creatures have it easier than me, and sometimes I become a bit discouraged. But the other day I heard a quote by Katherine Wolf:

The obsession of a pain-free life is a ridiculous idea.

Spoken from the mouth of a woman who is 38 years old and in a wheel chair because of a brain stem stroke suffered 12 years ago, I was struck by the fact that she lives with such joy. She was pursuing a career as a model when her life took a totally unexpected path.

Katherine and her husband, Jay, have weathered months in hospital and rehab centers yet have together written a book called Suffer Strong. One of their favorite verses is:

…we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character, and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. Romans 5:3-5

We will suffer in this life, and anyone who tries to tell us that we should never suffer is setting us up for depression and despair. It’s not what we suffer, but how we respond to suffering which is the most important. Yes, life is hard – it has been in the past, it is now, and it will continue to be so. But when we trust God and give Him thanks, even in the hard times, we can have the joy He has come to give.

So, even though we are limited in what we can do, I know God has put you and me in the places we are for such a time as this. He has called us to suffer strong, give thanks, and trust that He is working all things together for good.

I’ve given up the desire to hop on the wings of a goose and fly away into a better life. I will be content now, enjoying the joy God sends every day of my life. I’ll continue to help Grandpa with his oxygen, give him the breathing treatments he needs, wrap his swollen ankles and give thanks for life, for the difficult stuff now, and the good things that are yet to come.

Love, Mom

Branches and Trees

Page 9 of 22

Photosynthesis and Rest

Farewell to Idaho

Sunflowers Among Sagebrush

Anxiety and the Old Testament

The Symphony is Over

A Grateful Life

The First Time

Four Anchors

Thanksgiving at the Table

Fly Away on a Goose?

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