Happy New Year!
I've seen so many things coming across my facebook feed: A new year is a book with 365 empty pages--how will you fill it? A more disturbing one tells us that 1999 was TWENTY YEARS AGO. Many of my friends are posting their Word for the Year--Slow Down. Be Deliberate. Be Present. It appears these are alternatives to the traditional resolutions. But there is no less pressure in keeping them, is there?
Now, having a word for your year is not a bad thing at all. My husband and I have had a long-term goal of Living Deliberately and Living Simply. The problem is, the Living gets in the way. I learned long ago to find the joy in paying bills. Yes, the paycheck is eaten up very quickly, but that is how God provides our living. Step One in living deliberately. As far as living simply? Well, I can simplify your life in two minutes. Your house is on fire--what do you take? A tad drastic, I'll admit.
My daughter-in-love gave me a beautiful devotional for Christmas. It is My Mother's Quilts: Devotions of Love, Legacy, Family, and Faith by Ramona Richards. The author has a large collection of quilts from her mother, grandmother, and other family members. She relates well-rehearsed family stories about them, and weaves each of them in with a nugget of wisdom.
One of the entries is named "Offhand remarks." The author overheard her father say to her mother one day, "that one (the Churn Dash) is my favorite." We all (but especially children) hear things we say offhandedly and quickly forget, but sometimes those offhand remarks can remain with us for a lifetime.
The daughter had a very important conversation with her father shortly before he died. He related (among other things) that he worried that his decision decades before to move the family far away from their home in order to take a job might have sacrificed some closeness in the family's relationships. He also wished he could have "been there" more during her divorce.
I had several conversations with my own Daddy before he died. Some of the things he had worried about I had never given a thought to--just like me (and I suspect, like all of us), we are much harder on ourselves than our loved ones are. Kind of like our heavenly Father, right? We beat ourselves up over things He says are "no biggie." He has it handled already, and never, ever holds them against us.
But these conversations are important. Have you heard the saying, "don't die with the music still in you?" We need to make sure we don't die with the Words still in us. The author said, "Nothing that needs to be said should remain unsaid. Words used wisely, even more than money or quilts, are the inheritance we pass to those around us."
After her father's funeral, the author of my devotional asked her mother for the Churn Dash quilt. Her mother asked why, and she said, "it was Daddy's favorite." Her mother did not remember him saying that, proving again that Offhand Remarks are sometimes Important Remarks. We should always consider anything we say as possibly significant.
So, I think my Word of the Year will be Words of Grace. To consider my words, always striving to be encouraging. To always make sure I say all the Important Words. As the Proverbs 25:11 says, "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver."
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1 comment :
As I read your "words" so poignantly written here, I too recall offhand remarks in our family. When our sister Mary died--only 5 years old--Daddy sobbed uncontrollably saying "I wished I'd have save my medicine. Dear God, this is my fault." As a mere child myself, I didn't understand at all what he meant. Was there a medicine that could have saved her? What I did understand was that my Daddy's heart was broken almost beyond repair. I too wept at his knee.
As the seasons have come and gone, Daddy's offhand comment returns from memory now and again. Of course I now understand his "medicine" was the seed that produced this precious sister who was destined for sickness and early death.
Daddy has now been reunited with Mary and all those other seedlings who've gone on before me. But I can say with heartfelt gratitude, "Dear God, thank you for an honorable father who loved my mother and his many seedlings so deeply that he did NOT "save his medicine," lest I not have the blessed hope of a Heavenly reunion with each and every one of them.
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