A Bigger Landscape

A Bigger Landscape

There is a small framed picture on my bookcase. It is a small print on a purple background,

featuring a breathtaking landscape, with fields and hills, a village below, and up on a hill, a medieval

castle. The caption reads, “there is a landscape bigger than the one you see.”

That picture and caption reminds me of a time when God taught me that lesson. I was in my

dorm room a few years ago, praying, trying to get the mind of God and really listen to what He had

to say. I was led to the window and God showed me how limited my perspective is. I only see the here

and now, just as I could only see the rooftops of buildings outside my dorm room window. He sees

the whole world in the blink of an eye, all of space and time. He knows my life from beginning to

end. His perspective is eternal, while mine is so limited.

Whenever I struggle with the direction my life is going, I only have to look at that little picture I

found at Goodwill to remember that God sees the bigger landscape. Life seems like a puzzle

sometimes. We only have a few pieces, and some of them don't seem to fit. Someday all the pieces will

fit together and I will see the bigger landscape. When I look at that picture, it reminds me of my

conversation with God, and gives me hope that all my needs will be met because I have a big God, a

God who sees far beyond my perspective, a God who is greater than I could ever imagine. A God who

sees beyond this life to the landscape that is flawless and beautiful beyond imagination; the place where

there will be no more worry or fear, because that landscape is the place he’s prepared for us; the place

he saw us in the moment we let him in our hearts. It’s the perfect place where we will be with him

forever, where our eyes of flesh will be made eyes of the spirit and we can finally see in awe and

wonder; what his eternal eyes already see; a landscape bigger and more beautiful than we could ever

imagine.

A memorial garden, a wooded area that has recently been logged, an old glass Coca-Cola bottle. These images and more have made me realize today that not only are memories something to be treasured, we make and preserve them every single day by the things we choose to do, the things we choose to say, the people we choose to spend time with.

For the past week, I have been looking forward to picking my PawPaw’s brain for the memories of his past so that I can write the story of his life. Each day that I have put it in my plans, something has come up. Either I have been too busy, or he hasn't been in the talking mood. During the process, I have been reminded that I have to be patient and let the memories come in his time. In the meantime, I pulled out an old cassette tape of him telling stories eleven years ago and typed up most of it. I learned that I already have a lot of material to get me started.

I talked to PawPaw on Saturday, and set up today, my only day off this week, as our interview day. Before we got started, though, he had another project to do. I had a prescription to pick up, so I rode to Lawrenceburg with him and Nanny. We went to a nursery in Lawrenceburg and picked out four miniature pine trees, the kind that will stay small. By the time we arrived home, I had already decided to help with the project, a memorial rock garden for PawPaw and Nanny’s son, my Uncle Kevin. The finished project will be a square shaped rock garden, with a small pine in each corner, a bush in the back, and Kevin’s memorial stone in the middle.

I took a turn with the post-hole-diggers and pulled a couple of the trees out of their plastic pots, but mostly, I took pictures to capture the moment. PawPaw’s mind was on his work, but I can’t help but imagine him remembering his son as a boy, see him riding his first motorcycle, remembering their last conversation together. All those memories will be represented in this simple yet heartfelt reminder of his life in my grandparents yard.

Behind both my grandparents home and our home is a wooded area of about 100 acres. A

creek used to run back there and my brother, cousin and I used to hike in the woods and play in the creek. A few years ago, the present owner dammed up the creek and made it into a pond. This helped prevent some of the previously frequent flooding down in the hollow below us, but I was saddened by the loss of the creek that held so many happy memories. Last week, logging began on that land. The trees were cut back as far as our property line. The forest that has been there for as long as I can remember is now mostly gone. My sister remarked as she got out of the car, “Is it just my imagination, or can I see more of the sky?”

As I helped and took pictures of the memorial garden process, I noticed an old Coca-Cola bottle sitting on a bin behind the shed. It too, seemed to be a reminder of what used to be: old drugstores with soda counters, neighbors gathered on the front porch enjoying a chat, hard-working, yet simpler times. The kind of things I hope to capture in the book about my PawPaw.

Against the backdrop of these things that are no more is something new, the memorial garden. As we dug, planted and watered, we were not only honoring memories, we were creating new ones.

In case my readers haven’t guessed by now, I am a very sentimental person. Through helping with the memorial garden project, and working on my PawPaw’s story, I am realizing that memories live on even when the reminder of them is gone. As we create new reminders, we create memories. The logged forests will likely grow back, and the memories made there will live on. The memories created around the old soda counters can now be shared on Facebook and other social media. Uncle Kevin’s legacy will live on in his three children and soon to be five grandchildren. It will also live on in the memorial garden we planted with love.

PawPaw and I did get that interview in. I have a lot more material to work with. I have learned a lot from him and want to continue to spend as much time with him as I can, listening, learning and interacting. Through “Charlie” I hope to help capture the legacy that he will someday leave.

Each day is a gift, a chance to make memories. What legacy will you help build today?

I was almost to the house where I work yesterday morning, looking forward to another normal day, when I came upon a sign that read “road work ahead.” Sure enough, not only was there a dump truck stopped in my lane, there was a road grater blocking the other lane. On any normal road, there would have been someone directing traffic, or at least a detour sign. On this road, nothing. No options except to call my co-worker, Jane, and find an alternate route. I inwardly fumed about the inconvenience, especially when I misunderstood Jane's directions and got very lost. This is not how I'd planned to spend my morning. When I finally arrived at work, thanks to Jane meeting me and leading me in, I realized that the inconvenience really wasn't that big of a deal, but a way for God to teach me patience and flexibility.

My mom has a habit of asking God every morning to “order her day.” He always does, not always in the way she had planned, but it's always good. I like that prayer because it reminds us that we are not supposed to be the ones in control of our lives, of our days. God is.

I am reminded of the time when I was a child and my mom couldn't find her car keys one morning. She worked at the Christian school I attended, and not only was she responsible for getting me there on time, without her, her class wouldn't have a teacher. To this day, I still remember my mom kneeling at the couch, praying that God would help her find her keys. He did, but in His time. After we arrived at school, we got a call from my grandmother, who told us that there was a serious accident in an area we always passed through on the way to school. If mom had not lost her keys, we may have been involved in that accident.

Proverbs 16:9 says, “a man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps (KJV).” God is infinitely wiser than we are, and knows what's up ahead. He knows what will best mold us more into His likeness.

I want to always see every inconvenience, every “road work ahead” sign, as an opportunity, not to grumble or complain, but for Him to work in my life.  

                                                                    Bluebells

    It seemed they grew every summer when I was growing up. The thin lavender flowers with bell-

like blossoms covered our backyard in rural Summertown, TN. There was something magical about

those little flowers. Maybe it was the splash of color. Maybe it was the possibility of presenting a

bouquet of them to Mom for the kitchen table. Maybe it was the fact that they represent those long

ago carefree summer evenings spent with my brother and cousin rolling down the hill behind our home,

oblivious to the insects and parasites; following the lawn mower and raking up the mowed grass to use

for pretend “hay;” and running among the bluebells. Those evenings ended with a good bath and a

night of sound sleep, anticipating another day of carefree adventures. Whatever the reason, I loved

those bluebells. They were as beautiful to me as the most exquisite rosebush.

    My family had lots of fun during the summers with family vacations and get-togethers, but they

were no more fun to me than those carefree summer evenings of imaginative play.

I remember one summer when I noticed my dad mowing down those bluebells. I was heartsick,

angry and hurt that he would cut down such a beautiful flower. When I confronted him about it, he

replied that they were “just weeds.” I disagreed, and moped about it for awhile. Then some distraction

came along and the carefree summer continued.

    I'm almost thirty now, and carefree summers are a thing of the past. I still live on the property of

my childhood, although in a different home. Although a few bluebells have appeared over the years,

they have never come back as abundantly as they did all those years ago. I have more important things

to do than enjoy them if they did come back. Some days, however, I think back to those carefree days.

I still wonder what it was about that captivated me about those lowly yet beautiful objects of God's creation, yet I have no doubt that they now represent that part of my childhood when everything seemed right with the world. I like to believe that somewhere in my heart, there is still a place where that childlike wonder still exists, where that excitement over God's creation still permeates my being. I hope to share this wonder with children of my own someday; this world of excitement and laughter and a backyard full of bluebells.

During the four school years I was  in college, I  made the seven hour journey from Jackson, KY to Summertown, TN about sixteen times. Being directionally challenged, I relied on my gps, yet sometimes even that failed me. I can't count the times I've had to turn around or found myself in driving through towns and neighborhoods where I didn't know a soul. Even though I've become more familiar with the route over the years and can now make the trip without my gps, I still get a sense of relief and excitement when I'm finally driving down the roads and through the neighborhoods that I've recognized since childhood. The feeling gets stronger as I turn onto Buie road, the country road with no lines and no speed limit signs, the road I learned to drive on as a teen. I could probably traverse every winding inch of that road with my eyes closed, although I wouldn't dare to try. I enter the tunnel of trees, pass three familiar mailboxes, and turn right onto a gravel driveway, parking my car while being serenaded by a chorus of barking dogs. I smile as I get out of the car, greet the cat and over-sized weanie dog, and make my way to the steps of our double-wide, where my little sister is waiting for a hug.

Home. Just that one word can trigger a world of emotion. It brings different memories and associations for different people. For me home is a place where I belong.

There's nothing really special about my home. It's just a double-wide trailer on a small plot of land adjoining the property of my grandparents. Yet when I think of how vast the world is, how full of strangers and unfamiliar places it is, I realize how blessed I am to have one little insignificant corner of the world that I can call home.

I can't always be there, can't always have that sense of security and belonging in the world, yet that little corner of the world isn't my only home. There's another place where I belong, a place I never have to leave. That place is with a person who cares for me. Everything around me may be strange and uncertain, yet in Jesus' arms, I am safe, I am home.

Sometimes I want to see Him, sometimes this world gets old. And I realize that little corner is not my real home. Someday I'll finally make it there and it won't be barking dogs who will greet me but an angel choir and all saints, heroes and martyrs I've read about. But when I see Him, when I see Jesus, that's when I'll know I'm home. Will you come with me? Let's walk with Jesus, until we're finally home.

Welcome to my blog! The purpose of Inspiration from the Ordinary is to share some of the lessons I’ve learned from ordinary circumstances and experiences and inspire my readers to also find both beauty and lessons in the ordinary humdrum of their lives.

Today has been an ordinary Saturday, but a much appreciated one. I’ve had very few leisure days in the past month since starting a regular job as a caregiver. I enjoyed quiet time on my grandparents’ screened-in porch and a long conversation with my grandpa, Charlie Roberts, known to his grandchildren as Paw-Paw. Paw-Paw is a very important person in my life, and he’s taught me a lot of lessons, including lessons about people, about money, about God and about life in general. Having grown up as a farm boy in southern middle Tennessee, he’s seen a lot of change during his lifetime. Today as I listened to him talk about using mules to pull a plow at the age of twelve, and hauling hay into the barn loft using a pulley, I felt the urge to jump online and price portable voice recorders. As soon as I have the necessary equipment and the time, I plan to ghostwrite Paw-Paw’s story, his wisdom, and his advice in a book called simply, “Charlie.” His story may seem insignificant to many people, yet to those who know him, I know it will be a treasure. I hope and pray I will be able to capture it all while he is still with us.

We all have people in our lives whom we all too easily take for granted. We enjoy their presence, and may even let them know we love them on a regular basis, but do we fully appreciate who they are as a person, do we capture the moments we spend with them and treasure those moments to the fullest? Do we appreciate their story, respect their advice and listen to their chatter, even when it gets on our nerves? I must confess I sometimes need help in this area.

Paw-Paw recently lost his only son, Kevin Roberts in a tragic accident. I watched Paw-Paw go through that time of loss like he goes through everything in life, steady, unwavering, trusting God. He was a rock of support, not only for my grandmother, but for the rest of the family as well. Paw-Paw is not one to show his emotions, but I know he grieved the loss in his own way. Paw-Paw was close to Kevin, and although Kevin lived hundreds of miles away in Ohio, the two of them talked on the phone every Sunday morning before church. When Paw-Paw talked to Kevin on Sunday, June 29, 2014, he had no idea that it would be the last time, or that two days later, Kevin would depart from this earth. One thing Paw-Paw can say, though, is that his son knew he loved him. He will always have that assurance.

Who in our lives need to know we love them? Who has a need to be met, a story to share, or a prayer to be lifted before the Father? I don’t want a day to go by that my family and friends don’t know that I am there for them or that they are appreciated.

Not only does God put people in our lives for a reason, He puts circumstances and situations in our lives to teach us lessons. They may seem like the smallest things, insignificant to others, but because of them, our lives will never be the same. I have had a lot of times like that in my life, and in the coming days, weeks and years I hope to share them with my readers. Not everyone may connect with all of them. There may be times when who want to roll your eyes or stop reading. That’s ok. All I ask of those who choose to read this is that you let it make you think. Maybe you’ll think about life in new ways, see ordinary things through new eyes, or let God work in your heart in ways He hasn't before. If you don’t know Him, maybe He’ll somehow use this little blog to draw you to Himself.

Thanks for reading, and don’t forget to look for Inspiration in the Ordinary!