Bedtime

A couple of weeks ago I was tucking Max and Zach in bed. The normal routine is as follows. We talk about our day and answer the questions, “what was the best part and what was the not-so-best part of the day?” I loved the days when the boys answer, “there was no not-so-best part.” My next question is, “who do we want to remember in our prayers tonight?” Many of you are mentioned: friends, family members, classmates, pets, etc. As a Christian Education major at Centenary College, I remember one of the first prayers Dr. Don Emler stressed to the class to teach young children is the Lord’s Prayer. We say the Lord’s prayer. Max has added his own hand motions similar to Power Ranger’s moves when we get to the kingdom, power and the glory portion of the prayer. By the time we have had baths, read books, gone through the not-so-best part and best part of the day, and we have mentioned friends and family and said the prayer ending with the Lord’s prayer and the final closing, hug and a kiss; I am crying tired.

One night when I asked who we should remember, Max answered, “Anyone who’s bleeding” At first thought, I was taken aback– ugh. What a yuck kind of thought. Then Zach chimed in and said, “yea ‘cause they’re hurting.” So we said, “anyone who is bleeding.” If you were in that list, that night; I hope you felt God’s presence. It’s funny to think about the specifics of that–anyone who is bleeding is visibly hurt. We have scrapes and cuts around our house daily. Blood means someone needs attention. How many times have we all had a hurt that is not visible to others but it still is just as real? Depression… addictions, estranged relationships, and past wounds–I can think of several. My prayer is that I have eyes to see those hurts of others, that are visible and those not so well seen. God sees them all and fulfills every need.

Last week, we were at the beach with a youth group from Texas (shout out to First UMC Richardson). During worship on the beach it was shared, “as many as the sands on the beach and as much water as we can see and as far as the horizon is–God knows and loves us more.” As I am sitting in my church this coming Sunday, sometimes beside folks who know my seen and unseen wounds and have been there to bring healing, my prayer is that I will and that you will be agents of God’s love and presence in each others’ lives. As Max and Zach stumble through the Lord’s prayer and make ninja gestures toward the end of it, may I too be reminded of God’s love and presence in my life.

Letterboxing

In the Nashville newspaper there is a column called “from Ms. Cheap” Ms. Cheap suggests various things to do around town and in the surrounding areas that are, let’s say inexpensive. Cheap sounds so… well, cheap. She tells of best music opportunities, such as free concerts in the park, or of new openings of stores where a free hot-dog and drink might be attained. One of the best things we did last summer was taking the family to a big band concert at a city park. They gave a free dance lesson, then the band played for a couple of hours. Some folks even dressed for big band dancing and the dancing was great.

Recently a friend of mine shared with Ron and I something she and her family do for fun…. it’s called “letterboxing” and it has quickly become a hobby of ours. I think Ms. Cheap would smile on it and our family highly recommends it.

What is letterboxing you might be asking? Well the way we described it to Max and Zach is that it’s about finding hidden treasures. The longer answer is that people have hidden Tupperware containers all over the place. Inside of the container you’ll find a rubber stamp–some are ones folks have carved themselves others are stamps they might buy at a fancy stamp store or at a craft store. You’ll also find a small pad of paper and an ink pad. When you find a letterbox, you log your discovery (keep reading).

When we got ready to give letterboxing a try, our family came up with a name and logo “Two Boys Having Fun” and we went to Michael’s and found a stamp with two boys and a dog in the middle of them. We also bought a black stamp pad and some markers if we want to color our family stamp before we stamped it. When we find a box, we use our family stamp to stamp the pad then we date it and tell who we are–“Two Boys Having Fun: Ron Celia Max and Zach were here”! We have letterboxed two weekends and had a great time working together. This summer, we’ll be hiding some letter boxes for others to find and finding new ones in our town and maybe in your town.

You can learn more at: letterboxing.org. The website has clues to where over 15,000 boxes are hidden, all over North America. There are additional twists to this hobby, but they’re all explained on the website. Another website , has a little more of an international coverage. On either site, you can enter a destination and find out where nearby letterboxes are hidden. To learn more about the origins of this hobby, follow this link to the Smithsonian Magazine.

Since I’ve found a few of these boxes in prominent places, it’s funny to think of how many times, I’ve walked past a few of these boxes and had no idea they were right under my nose. Now when I visit one of these locations, I can’t help but think I’m in on a secret as I walk past a box I’ve found. It’s kind of like the little things we miss along life’s journey, while we’re busy doing what we think is important. The past few hears have tuaght me over and over again that maybe the little things are really the big things. I have realized that some of God’s greatest gifts are right in front of me. I have either missed them or overlooked them in my busy-ness. I pray that you and I enjoy all the wonder of summer — catching fireflies, walking barefoot in the grass, swimming, playing on the slip and slide, having our feet in sand, reading a great book, spending time with good friends, eating fresh veggies bought at a roadside stand, marveling at God’s greatest sunsets and maybe a new adventure with your family doing something fun (letterboxing or whatever you choose).

It’s not really about the coffee. . .

I love Starbucks – I have journeyed through many a Starbucks and have landed at the quintessential drink for my taste — chai tea with soy milk, no water, no foam with nutmeg on top. It’s heavenly! Thank you, Jamie, for the recommendation. No matter where I am I can order that drink and all is right . . . OK, some things are right.

Last week I was in a Starbucks in Memphis and the girl at the counter asked my name. Then she said, “Chai soy, for Celia no water, no foam.” When my drink was ready, I heard “here’s your chai tea, Celia.” They got it right. They called me by name and instantly I felt connected to them. One of the things we want most is to be remembered (as my friend Billy reminds me).

I was visiting the Starbucks location in my hometown. (If any Starbucks is going to know my name, it should be this one.) I have been in here several times since they opened (I actually got there first — I ate at the meat and three in that location, BEFORE Starbucks even looked at the place.) Once again they asked my name and I waited for my drink. They also asked the name of the guy behind me–it was Bob and he was having the coffee of the week. While he and I waited, I said hey to Bob. Then the server said those words I love to hear, “Chai Tea for Celia” She handed me my drink, but she did not look me in the eye. OK–it was a little gesture, but it represented something much bigger. People who really know me, look me in the eye. I was ushered back to reality by that small, negligent act. They don’t know me! They don’t remember me. No matter how many times I show up and they call my name, they just don’t know me. Starbucks can use my name, but they don’t know me. Of course I’ll keep going to Starbucks; but make no mistake, it’s for the Chai tea.

Merridees, the bakery down the street also serves coffee. The minute I walk in the door, I could be on the Cheers show. The guys from the telephone company are there and I know their names. They gave Max a hard hat with his name one it. These people not only know my name, but also my children’s names. Folks there ask where I have been, where I am going and how I am doing. The manager comes from behind the counter and hugs my neck as she wipes down tables. She smiles like an angel. As I sit with my friends, we talk about life — basketball, music, the weather, news from the front page and things we should’ve invented. When I am not there, I miss them. I could go on, but you get the picture. More than my name, they know me.

When I am home on a Sunday, my church reminds me why I belong there. People call my name because they know me. I am re-member-ed (put back together), when I am in community. I need that, maybe we all need that. I sometimes believe what I am sold, but I know the difference. I am fed by real connections. There is something so simple and pure about a name. It is even better than perfect every time chai tea. You cannot beat plain-old feed-your-soul rich connection. Be on the look out and when you find it — drink it up. It is Holy (set apart) and God is there.

Isaiah 43:1 But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.

On being there for a friend

We have been journeying with a friend. We (Celia and Ron) are both on the preschool board at our church. One of our fellow board members Meg unexpectedly lost her husband 3 weeks ago. One of her daughters and our son Zach are in class together at preschool (she calls him Whack). Meg’s husband Jack had an accident near Memphis and was rushed to a hospital in Memphis, where he died about a week later. Our family was driving home from Louisiana when we received news of the accident. Our trip took us through Memphis, so we stopped and spent an evening with the family at the hospital. We have learned so much in the last 3 weeks. There are so many stories and lessons we could include, but we’ll keep it to a few.

Lesson 1: Make time to stop. Being there for each other is paramount. It’s not about knowing how to be there, it’s about being willing to risk awkwardness and the unknown. Had we driven through Memphis without stopping, we would have saved some time. Maybe the family would have missed our support. We certainly would not even be aware of the enrichment and the experience of God’s abundance that we would have missed. Being there was the first step on the journey of growing together. Your friends become family when you walk through the fire together.

Lesson 2: The church is a big family and a small family at the same time. When we returned home from Memphis, we talked about what else we could do to help. We have a list of people who have heard Celia sing. You are receiving this email because you are on that list. We called several churches in the Memphis area from our list. Of course, the church showed up with visits, food, prayer and support. Crisis is one of those times when we are at our best as a community of faith. Part of what we love about our lives and our line of service is that we often get to experience the connection that is ours in faith.

Lesson 3: There is ALWAYS something you can do–be creative. We talked about what else we could do beyond praying and calling friends in Memphis. We knew the family was staying at a hotel, so we got the number of the fax line at the hotel (there was no charge to receive faxes). Celia sent a daily inspirational thought to the family via fax, knowing that it would be left under their hotel room door. No phone to answer, no extra errand–a supportive thought just showed up. At the funeral visitation, Ron went through the line and introduced himself. He was just another supportive visitor until he was introduced as being the fax lady’s other half. One of the family members said to Ron, “You’re married to the fax lady?” The faxes and the thought made a difference.

Lesson 4: Get to know your acquaintances. They have a life and a story beyond your limited contact. We sat together through several preschool board meetings. We shared both good and routine moments as we have talked about the details of running a quality preschoo, but we didn’t know much of each others lives before this loss. By not intentionally carving out time together, we missed some joyful times with a delightful couple.

Lesson 5: Cherish the people you love. Your time together is a gift. Meg has since told us many things about her and Jack’s marriage. They really liked each other and had fun together. She has said that she would rather have had only ten years sharing that kind of love, than a whole lifetime of “average.” That is an easy statement to comprehend. They crammed a lifetime into ten years. MAKE your relationships great.

Thanks you for what you do for each other and for how you’ve enriched our lives. Merry Christmas–may the Christ child be re-born in your hearts this season. God’s peace . . . Celia and Ron Whitler

PS visit “in the neighborhood benefit” to learn more.

The one that got away…

Last month I had the joy of spending a day fishing with my cousin Paul and his fishing-guide buddy, Allen. We were in South Louisiana near the Gulf of Mexico, (we could’ve been in the gulf for all I know.) When I say joy, I mean “opening presents Christmas morning” joy; “lose 20 pounds” joy; or “find your keys after looking for hours” joy. The remembrance of that day brings a smile to my face.

Stay with me on this story. That morning, I walked out the door at 5:30 AM. I was dressed for the day and ready to go. We stopped by a local store to pick up our lunch–2 containers of fried chicken–which tasted much better than your average fried chicken and we picked up my fishing license (I’m not a poacher). When I tell you they want all of your information to give you a Louisiana fishing license–I mean ALL of your information. They want color of eyes, color or hair, current phone, SS#, address. I don’t remember giving the state of Louisiana that much information when I registered to vote the first time. (I’m from Louisiana, so I can say that.) With my 3 day license in hand, off we went. We had live bait, we had chicken, we had a cooler of water & Gatorade and nothing but fishing on our to do list.

We arrived at the marina, put the boat in the water and were on our way. I love watching the sun come up, watching egrets fly overhead, enjoying the stillness of the water, or watching dolphins playing. It was a great day. I was thinking, “what I great life.”

Allen took us to our first spot. He handed me a pole and baited my line. I quickly told them I wanted to learn how to bait my own line–how tough could it be to put a little shrimp on a line? I didn’t know much about fishing–I was pretty much a clean slate. You tell me what to do or what I’m doing wrong and I’ll learn. I’m fairly teachable, when I want to learn—(there’s a golf story from New Mexico that could be inserted here, but I’ll save that for another devotional). After a few lessons on casting, I was a seasoned veteran, almost. I watched them catch one fish after another. They continued to coach me… “pull your line in slower, Celia” or “when you feel that tug, your bait’s probably gone”.

I would switch hands, I’d try to reel more slowly. Finally it happened. I caught one. Not a big one, but it was a fish. My first few fish were pretty small. Paul helped me unhook them and release them. I remember thinking, “he’s gonna get tired of this”, so I just started grabbing those fish myself. There are times in our lives when we’re not sure how to do something or we’re not sure if we’re doing it right, when we have to “gut it out”–just bear down and try. There have been times when people have said to me, “how do you do that and look so confident?” I guess I just say to myself, “I can do it.” Then I BECOME the thing I’m striving for. That was my approach that day. Finally I was fishing! I caught trout, red fish, and even a shark! My largest fish was a red fish about 28 inches long and around 10 to12 pounds. I was screaming and having a grand old time. Allen & Paul were laughing that laugh–like you’re killing us and you’re killing the fishing for all of the fishermen who can hear you and are trying to catch something.

Reeling those fish in is a job, but what a sense of pride when you do it. A couple of times I know I blinked and said, “hey guys, how I am doing?” My intent was to communicate the thought, “can either of you help me reel this in?” They’d smile and say; “you are doing great. Lift up your pole and bring it down and as reel.” It was my fish and it was my job to do.

THEN IT HAPPENED—it was about mid-day and we had fished in several different locations. I was casting, when all of a sudden, my line started going out like crazy. This got the attention of my fellow fishermen. They told me “that’s a big one, Celia. The biggest today, by far.” Finally my line broke. As we fixed it, we talked about the one that got away. We talked about how big it probably was, what it could have been–maybe it was a shark, they listed a slew of fish names that I had never heard of. We continued to fish and I thought, I’ve got two option–I can dwell on the one that got away and think I’ll never have another one like that OR I can choose to think there’s a better one and a bigger one out there. I know why folks love fishing. Some of the fun of fishing is knowing that next time might be the time when you will catch the big one or the one that got away.

Well, the day ended and the fish were cleaned. We readied the boat for another trip. I wanted to beg them to take me the next day, but I had a life to return to in Franklin. I had a singing engagement the next weekend. I had Ron, who lovingly and patiently kept our sons while I fished. I had two sons, Max and Zach, and I had stories to tell of Mama fishing on a boat.

The original purpose of my trip was to attend Paul’s father’s memorial service. He died from complications after a long-awaited liver transplant. I flew from Nashville to Houston and drove to Lake Charles to meet my family, many I hadn’t seen since the death of my own father. As I drove, I wondered what I would feel–sadness, connectedness, sense of loss, sense of belonging. I kept coming back to the thought that life has a way of moving on. I remembered good days and I believe that better days are ahead. When I saw my family, I didn’t have any words of wisdom about their loss. We shared something unspoken in our togetherness. It was a silent exchange—rooted in our common experience of the loss of a parent. No words were needed–being together was enough. In the silence, I felt right with the world and right with myself. At the memorial service, my Uncle Billy squeezed my hand during the closing song. Instead of feeling flooded with loss, I was reminded of all I have and all that is ahead–the overwhelming blessings. I was also reminded that my best days are ahead.

I go to churches and sing for youth groups. Occasionally, I meet a group or a church that dwells on days gone by. They are stuck with the notion that their best days are behind them. Of course, I am not talking about your church. This mindset is about living from a sense scarcity rather than living with an understanding of God’s abundance. Ultimately, the confidence to live this way comes from a trust that God holds the future.

Life is different when lived with the mindset that my best days are ahead of me–my best ideas are yet to come, my marriage grows better and stronger with time, my best songs are not yet written, and my biggest fish is still swimming. The day I spent fishing was a wonderful reminder of this truth.

**Here is the rest of the story and the real-life true story about the ones that got away. — Paul packed my fish on ice so I could fly them home. When I got to the Southwest Airlines ticket counter in Houston, the ticket agent smiled and said, “Ma’am, can you tell me what’s in your ice chest?” Proudly I answered, “fish I caught today near the Gulf. You won’t believe the day I’ve had.” I watched as she cut open my duct taped Styrofoam ice chest with a box cutter. As she worked, she muttered, “no, no, no. You can’t fly with this kind of ice chest, you can’t fly with loose ice, and you can’t fly with fresh fish–it has to be frozen.” So I left my fish and passed through security and flew home with only the things I had brought from Tennessee.

There is an end to this story in my mind. I have a vision of those airline employees and all their friends, gathered for a fish fry that night. It brings a smile to my face, knowing that they really might have had a party with MY fish. Those fish were the real ones that got away. I am left with the memory of an incredible day. My best trip is STILL in my future and I am ready to go.

A personal thanks to Paul and Allen, who were great sports to risk their day of fishing to take a girl like me out and teach me how to fish. You guys are great!

Jeremiah 29:11 For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.

At the River

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Shall we gather, gather at the river? Shall we gather with the saints above?
Shall we gather, gather at the river? Gather for to sing of God’s great love.
Sinners all around the feasting table. Gladly God’s good grace we prove.
Shall we gather, gather at the river? Gather for to sing of God’s great love.

Sing the Love that made the mountains, shim’ring snow capped in the sun.
Rivers roaring twisting turning ’till into the sea they run.
Sing the Love that placed the infant, resting in her mother’s arms,
Graced the earth with glades and forests, laden with a million charms.

Sing the Love that fashioned music, thus to heal the hardest heart.
Work and water, dance and diamonds, air and azure, ants and art.
Sing the Love that gave the prophets, speech and strength beyond their ‘ken’
Love that calls us to repentance, time and time and time again.

Sing the love that knows our grieving, Through the long and tedious night,
Sing the love that brings relieving, Like the morning’s healing light.
Sing the Love that feels our sorrow, Bears our weeping, tastes our tears
Love that will not leave us friendless, Even when no help seems near.

Sing the love of God Almighty now distilled in human frame,
Humbly born and living simply, Jesus was his given name.
Lamb and Lion, source and Saviour, voice and vision, word and way,
King and calling, bridge and brother, Life and light and dawn and day.

Sing the Love that found us sinners, bound by lies or guilt or pride,
Met us in the healing water, fed us by the river side.
Sing the Love which now invites us, to the feast that never ends.
Down the ages now and ever, singing feasting, family friends.
Down the ages now and ever, singing, feasting, family, friends

Yes we’ll gather at the river; The beautiful, the beautiful, the river
Gather with the saints at the river, that flows from the throne of God

© 2004 Ken Medema and Celia Whitler
words and music by Ken Medema and Celia Whitler

This summer I had the privilege of singing …

at the memorial service of Lillian Marie Harron. Lillian was the mother of a friend of mine at church. Marie, as her friends and family called her, was born the same year as my dad–1923. As I sat there and listened to our pastor tell the story of her life, I felt sorry I had not know her. It was a wonderful tribute. Friends and family stood and talked about Marie.. how kind…how fun… how loving… and how creative she was. At age 70, she could still do the splits–her grandchildren learned how to do the splits from her. In the lobby the family had assembled a collection of pictures of her that spanned her lifetime. They also had her senior yearbook. One autograph included a phrase that caught my eye, “You’re Plenty Ok.” What a simple concept.

From what I heard about Marie, she lived her life like she was plenty ok. She treated others that way as well. She shared her faith dailly. Marie embraced each challenge with dignity and perserverance. She was not afraid to go against the grain–in the sixties, when her children noticed “whites only” signs, Marie would quickly say to her children, “just because it’s a law doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.” Her children learned to value everyone and everyone was their friend.

“Plenty Ok” . . . what if every morning we woke up and thought, “today Lord, I embrace this day as a gift… right where I am … both the good and the bad… the hard and the easy. Help me change those things you’d have me change. Lord, help me live my life as you would have me to… my life is plenty ok and I am plenty ok.” Listening to the story of her life I thought I would like to have known her AND that I would like to be more like her.

Try it for the rest of today, believe that you’re plenty okay, just the way God made you. And if you find yourself doubting or second guessing, or replaying or regretting the past, or worrying about the future; forgive yourself and remember… you’re plenty okay! … Celia

P.S. if you’ve given up on learning to do the splits, maybe it’s not too late.

Commencement

Recently I was sitting in an auditorium at the Commencement Exercises of a class of 2004. The service started a little late. Parents and friends eagerly waited for the moment their loved one’s name is read from the podium. There I was, sitting with my family, doing the same. The speeches had been made and I thought back to my own graduation ceremony. I remember saying to myself, “Ok Celia, when you go to receive your diploma—smile, don’t trip, enjoy the moment.” Well, I didn’t trip and the moment breezed by. Back to 2004… as the names were read to recognize this year’s graduates, people began clapping for their graduating senior. I found myself clapping as well. I really wanted to clap for each name that was read, even though my nephew’s name was a little down the line. Then, I noticed something–some folks had big cheers, loud shouts of encouragement and other people had only a few cheers. Sometimes it seemed that I was the only person clapping. There were about 250 names read that day and once I started, I was committed to finishing. After about the first 100 names, Ron asked if I was going to clap for every name. I thought, you know what? — yes, I am. I know God is like that in my life—present, clapping, sometimes I’m not even aware of how God is there, but I believe God is always present, always encouraging and celebrating.

Sometimes, God encourages us through another person reaching out. I can remember specific times when someone reached out to me. They might not have even known the impact it had on my life. My gestures of encouragement often come on the spur of the moment (this is no surprise if you know me at all). Even when I’m certain that someone has received plenty of attention over a tough situation, I go ahead and send a card. Yesterday I asked a friend (who I know has had a really tough year) how he was doing, I really wanted to know and I really took the time to listen. Sometimes it is the little nothings that we do that become the somethings. This morning, I got a call from a close friend whose dog had been it by a car… (the dog is ok… bruised up and resting at the vet’s). For the several years of marriage before I had children, our dog Smokey was our family. Losing him was losing a family member. This morning I jumped in the car and sat with my friends as they waited for word for their dog. I told my friends, “I’m gonna try to NOT be like Job’s friends.” If you remember the details of the story—Job’s friends are doing a great job supporting Job, UNTIL they open their mouth and start talking. It was good just to be with my friends.

It makes us feel special if we know that even one person is clapping for them. Everyone deserves to be recognized for a job well done, to have a pat on the back, to have someone pulling for them, even if person is be a stranger. So I clapped for everybody that day and when the last name was read, I felt like I had made a difference.

I have to wrap this up, I am off to swimming lessons. Max and Zach are taking lessons with 3 other little people. The parents are all cheering for every little thing that each of them does. Each day… you have the opportunity to help someone hold it together. So like we learn in swimming, don’t forget to reach and pull. Your encouragement will make a difference in the lives around you. It has made a difference in mine.