"God intends something gloriously grand here and is making the decisions that will bring it about." John 8:5b, The Message
Few things in life have been more dreaded for me than this past weekend's cleaning out of my childhood home. For weeks, I've had knots in my stomach as I would think about going through that special place for what would likely be the last time. I knew that my brother and sisters and I would work well together, because we always do. I knew, too, that we would find moments of fun and laughter in the middle of all the "yuck", because our parents taught us how to do that, too. And, because of so many words of encouragement, I knew we were all being prayed for and remembered by our wonderful friends.
What I did not know was that the last weekend there would turn out to be one of the sweetest and most precious times we've shared. You see, things didn't work out quite as we had planned...but sometimes, that is when God brings His best surprises!
We were all under the impression that a gentleman my dad knows was going to take everything left in the house and auction or dispose of it for us, and that we were simply going to have to go clean the house. Instead, on Friday morning, we found out that the man had too many estates to deal with at once, and that he didn't have room for my parents things. In a scramble, my sisters decided to have a moving sale on Saturday. Yikes! With only one day to prepare and no publicity except a few signs and some Facebook posts, we really didn't know what to expect. We were praying for at least a few folks to show up.
After working late into the night on Friday, we awoke early Saturday to a deluge of rain. We had made it clear on the posters that we would have the moving sale rain or shine, but would people even come out on a day like that?
By 8:00 a.m., the house was swarming with people! We couldn't believe it! The Pickens Flea Market had been flooded by the rain, so all the shoppers and some of the dealers came our way. On top of that, we had folks come by simply to see what was going on with our parents, or to see how all of us were doing. Since my dad had owned a hardware store on Main Street for decades, and since my mom had taught at the high school for over 20 years, there were well-known and much-loved.
In addition to selling almost everything in the house, we were blessed with story after story about how special our parents have been to the people they have known along the way. We heard stories of my dad's kindness to people at his store, of his fun-loving nature, of his knack for always having the right gardening tips, and of being able to pick out just the right fishing lure. We heard about his belief in people when they were down on their luck, and his encouragement to them to keep their faith and do the right thing. We heard stories of my mom's love for her students, of her willingness to go the extra mile for them, her great meals for those in need,and of her wonderful Bible teaching at the church. Many of the people who came through were delighted to learn where my parents are now, so that they would be able to go and visit.
Rather than being filled with tears, the day was filled with laughter, fond memories, and the living legacy of faith of Jean and Tony Farry. They may not live in that home anymore, but their love for God and His people lives on in all of their children and in the many lives they have touched through the years.
At the end of the day, we were able to give my parents not only a little extra cash from all the things that were sold, but we were able to give them the gift that really mattered: knowing that they are not forgotten and that their lives continue to be used by God to bless others.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Cleaning House
Childhood memories of Saturday mornings:
"Mama, can I go outside and play?"
"Have you cleaned your room?"
"No, but can't I play first?"
"No, honey, you know how it goes. Get your jobs done first, and then it's playtime the rest of the day!"
This coming weekend, my siblings and I will clean up at 849 Pendleton Street in Pickens for the last time. After over 56 years, my parents no longer live there. They have been fortunate enough to sell their house rather quickly, & they are scheduled to close in a couple of weeks.
As with any move, there is much to be done. We're fortunate that my parents were able to move into their new retirement apartment back in October, so we've been able to take our time in going through things, dividing up the furniture and belongings, and sifting through our memories. This coming weekend is it, though. The house will have to be empty, cleaned, and ready for it's new owners.
Without doubt, this is one of the hardest transitions I've had in my life. Being the baby of the five children, I lived there most recently, and it still seems like my parents ought to be living there. If it's this difficult for me, I can only begin to imagine how my parents feel. They are certainly keeping the right perspective, and it helps to know that it was their idea to do all of this in the first place! With my mom's declining health, their safety and well-being are priorities, and they are exactly where they need to be.
Still, just the thought of the final cleaning out leaves me feeling
empty. But at the end of all this, will there be a "playtime" waiting for my family? Oh, how I hope so! I am praying already that there will be joy in the middle of the tears as we go through the house, inch by inch, being sure it is ready. I am praying that memories will flood back, and they we will all be able to capture them. I am praying that God will be especially close to all of us this weekend. Most of all, I am praying that for my mom & dad, the rest of their days will be the best of their days. Even with my mom's condition and my dad's physical pains, I pray they find sweetness, playfulness, and JOY!
For those moving into our home, I pray that they will be blessed by the lasting legacy that was built inside of those walls. A lot of "cleaning house" went on with us children as our parents instructed us, corrected us, and helped us grow to love Christ. And as for all of us Farry children, may we be encouraged by our time together, and remember that the hours of laughter and playtime are what we will carry with us.
Cleaning house is never fun, but it is always necessary. May God be close to us and teach us as we walk through these next days together.
"If you are truly serious about coming back to God, clean house!" 1 Samuel 7:3a (the Message)
"Mama, can I go outside and play?"
"Have you cleaned your room?"
"No, but can't I play first?"
"No, honey, you know how it goes. Get your jobs done first, and then it's playtime the rest of the day!"
This coming weekend, my siblings and I will clean up at 849 Pendleton Street in Pickens for the last time. After over 56 years, my parents no longer live there. They have been fortunate enough to sell their house rather quickly, & they are scheduled to close in a couple of weeks.
As with any move, there is much to be done. We're fortunate that my parents were able to move into their new retirement apartment back in October, so we've been able to take our time in going through things, dividing up the furniture and belongings, and sifting through our memories. This coming weekend is it, though. The house will have to be empty, cleaned, and ready for it's new owners.
Without doubt, this is one of the hardest transitions I've had in my life. Being the baby of the five children, I lived there most recently, and it still seems like my parents ought to be living there. If it's this difficult for me, I can only begin to imagine how my parents feel. They are certainly keeping the right perspective, and it helps to know that it was their idea to do all of this in the first place! With my mom's declining health, their safety and well-being are priorities, and they are exactly where they need to be.
Still, just the thought of the final cleaning out leaves me feeling
empty. But at the end of all this, will there be a "playtime" waiting for my family? Oh, how I hope so! I am praying already that there will be joy in the middle of the tears as we go through the house, inch by inch, being sure it is ready. I am praying that memories will flood back, and they we will all be able to capture them. I am praying that God will be especially close to all of us this weekend. Most of all, I am praying that for my mom & dad, the rest of their days will be the best of their days. Even with my mom's condition and my dad's physical pains, I pray they find sweetness, playfulness, and JOY!
For those moving into our home, I pray that they will be blessed by the lasting legacy that was built inside of those walls. A lot of "cleaning house" went on with us children as our parents instructed us, corrected us, and helped us grow to love Christ. And as for all of us Farry children, may we be encouraged by our time together, and remember that the hours of laughter and playtime are what we will carry with us.
Cleaning house is never fun, but it is always necessary. May God be close to us and teach us as we walk through these next days together.
"If you are truly serious about coming back to God, clean house!" 1 Samuel 7:3a (the Message)
Monday, May 11, 2009
The Place of My Denial
G'day, Mate!
Lately, our home has been filled with the sights and sounds of Australia. No, we're not planning a big trip, although that is one of my dream destinations. We're getting geared up for Spring Valley Baptist's "Boomerang Express" Vacation Bible School! (It's being held from June 15-19. Come on and join us!! http://www.springvalleybaptist.com) I am serving as the Worship Rally leader this summer, so I've been playing the music, watching the DVDs, and brushing up on my Aussie lingo. Thankfully, my 9-year-old is quick to let me know if something I think of is "way cool" or "really lame, Mom".
The other day, as I watched the VBS DVD, I was drawn to the images they were showing.
The narrator was in Israel, and she was taking the viewers on a trip around the country to sites that were important in the ministry of Jesus, as well as in the life of Peter.
In one of the segments, they showed the steps to the home of the high priest, where Jesus was taken on the night before his crucifixion. The narrator explained that these steps were well over 2000 years old, and that they are believed to be the very steps that Christ ascended on that horrible night. As she walked up the steps, she came into the courtyard. She pointed out that this was the place where Peter was asked if he knew Jesus. Not once, but 3 times, the courtyard became the backdrop for his denial of his Savior.
As I watched, I thought about how awful Peter must have felt each time he passed that place. Even though he was later restored in his relationship with Jesus, how he must have anguished each time he had to pass those steps that led to the place he denied Christ! I thought to myself, "Wow, I'm glad I don't have a particular spot like that!"
It was then that I realized that yes, I do. I have more places of denial than I even want to admit, much less revisit. Memories began to flood my mind of all the times I had acted in ways that didn't show others that I belong to Jesus. Verbally, I may not have denied him, but words weren't necessary for others to see that I was only acknowledging myself and my own will.
Even though is was extremely painful, I began to pray and ask God to show me the times and the ways I had denied Him, and most importantly, to show me if any of those places were still active in my life. At the end of much confession and prayer, the Lord then began to bring to mind all the times He had found me in those places and pulled me back into His arms. Those habits, actions, and times of serving self--by God's grace---now serve as reminders of how empty my life was when I lived it in denial of Him. The only peace and fullness in life comes from acknowledging Him as the Ruler, King, and Redeemer of every circumstance!
May all my places of denial now become places of praise.
Lately, our home has been filled with the sights and sounds of Australia. No, we're not planning a big trip, although that is one of my dream destinations. We're getting geared up for Spring Valley Baptist's "Boomerang Express" Vacation Bible School! (It's being held from June 15-19. Come on and join us!! http://www.springvalleybaptist.com) I am serving as the Worship Rally leader this summer, so I've been playing the music, watching the DVDs, and brushing up on my Aussie lingo. Thankfully, my 9-year-old is quick to let me know if something I think of is "way cool" or "really lame, Mom".
The other day, as I watched the VBS DVD, I was drawn to the images they were showing.
The narrator was in Israel, and she was taking the viewers on a trip around the country to sites that were important in the ministry of Jesus, as well as in the life of Peter.
In one of the segments, they showed the steps to the home of the high priest, where Jesus was taken on the night before his crucifixion. The narrator explained that these steps were well over 2000 years old, and that they are believed to be the very steps that Christ ascended on that horrible night. As she walked up the steps, she came into the courtyard. She pointed out that this was the place where Peter was asked if he knew Jesus. Not once, but 3 times, the courtyard became the backdrop for his denial of his Savior.
As I watched, I thought about how awful Peter must have felt each time he passed that place. Even though he was later restored in his relationship with Jesus, how he must have anguished each time he had to pass those steps that led to the place he denied Christ! I thought to myself, "Wow, I'm glad I don't have a particular spot like that!"
It was then that I realized that yes, I do. I have more places of denial than I even want to admit, much less revisit. Memories began to flood my mind of all the times I had acted in ways that didn't show others that I belong to Jesus. Verbally, I may not have denied him, but words weren't necessary for others to see that I was only acknowledging myself and my own will.
Even though is was extremely painful, I began to pray and ask God to show me the times and the ways I had denied Him, and most importantly, to show me if any of those places were still active in my life. At the end of much confession and prayer, the Lord then began to bring to mind all the times He had found me in those places and pulled me back into His arms. Those habits, actions, and times of serving self--by God's grace---now serve as reminders of how empty my life was when I lived it in denial of Him. The only peace and fullness in life comes from acknowledging Him as the Ruler, King, and Redeemer of every circumstance!
May all my places of denial now become places of praise.
Monday, May 4, 2009
My Jerusalem
"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." Acts 1:8
Lately, I've had "the itch". With all the Baptist Collegiate Ministry students preparing for summer missions, and with other dear friends writing to us from the mission field, the desire to GO has been rising up in me! My passport is getting dusty, and I'm just feeling the need to pull it out and to go to a place where people really need to hear about Jesus.
You know what? All I have to do to go to a place like that is walk out my front door. Go to the grocery store. Take my son to school. Teach fitness. People who really need to hear about Jesus are EVERYWHERE around me, and I just need to take the time to ask God to show me who needs a word from Him.
This morning, I took a walk around my neighborhood. The weather was idyllic, and I was having a great time praying and worshipping as I got some exercise. As I walked, the Lord began to say to me, "You're looking at your Jerusalem."
Since Ken & I moved to Blythewood about 18 months ago, we have tried diligently to know our neighbors. We have believed from the moment the foundation of our home was set that we were being brought here to live for Jesus in this neighborhood. But as I walked, I realized that although I know many of their names, I really don't know many of my neighbors. What are their needs, their hurts, their beliefs? Do they know what WE believe? Oh, I pray they do, but I can't say that for certain, because there are still many of them I have not had that deep conversation with yet.
It's no mistake that Jesus told his followers to start in Jerusalem. We simply must begin where we live. God didn't put any of us in the place we call our "home" to stay to ourselves. Instead, he put us where we are to get involved, to care, to be His light.
For the last half of my walk, I began to pray for each family in each home that I passed. Even though I don't know their needs, their hurts, their fears, my Father does, and He is the only one who can do anything about it. My neighborhood walks are going to have a different focus from now on: reaching my Jerusalem with the love of Christ. I can't wait to see who God puts in my path!
I guess my passport will stay dusty for a little while longer, but that is fine with me. My mission field is right outside my door.
Lately, I've had "the itch". With all the Baptist Collegiate Ministry students preparing for summer missions, and with other dear friends writing to us from the mission field, the desire to GO has been rising up in me! My passport is getting dusty, and I'm just feeling the need to pull it out and to go to a place where people really need to hear about Jesus.
You know what? All I have to do to go to a place like that is walk out my front door. Go to the grocery store. Take my son to school. Teach fitness. People who really need to hear about Jesus are EVERYWHERE around me, and I just need to take the time to ask God to show me who needs a word from Him.
This morning, I took a walk around my neighborhood. The weather was idyllic, and I was having a great time praying and worshipping as I got some exercise. As I walked, the Lord began to say to me, "You're looking at your Jerusalem."
Since Ken & I moved to Blythewood about 18 months ago, we have tried diligently to know our neighbors. We have believed from the moment the foundation of our home was set that we were being brought here to live for Jesus in this neighborhood. But as I walked, I realized that although I know many of their names, I really don't know many of my neighbors. What are their needs, their hurts, their beliefs? Do they know what WE believe? Oh, I pray they do, but I can't say that for certain, because there are still many of them I have not had that deep conversation with yet.
It's no mistake that Jesus told his followers to start in Jerusalem. We simply must begin where we live. God didn't put any of us in the place we call our "home" to stay to ourselves. Instead, he put us where we are to get involved, to care, to be His light.
For the last half of my walk, I began to pray for each family in each home that I passed. Even though I don't know their needs, their hurts, their fears, my Father does, and He is the only one who can do anything about it. My neighborhood walks are going to have a different focus from now on: reaching my Jerusalem with the love of Christ. I can't wait to see who God puts in my path!
I guess my passport will stay dusty for a little while longer, but that is fine with me. My mission field is right outside my door.
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