Community

I am in awe when I consider the community of peers I have stumbled upon in my new(ish) work situation. Not only is it humbling to realize what spiritual warriors they are, and comforting to know that they lift me and my needs before the Throne of Grace regularly, it is also challenging to recognize the strength of mind, character and diversity of interests they represent. They are called to this work with purpose, filled with joy abounding, and demonstrate love for me and for one another without ceasing.

We grumble, yes. We moan over the chaos, the paperwork, the deadlines. There is some eye-rolling, some modicum of heavy sighs. But through it, despite it, and perhaps because of it, there is community.

I love the scripture from Hebrews 12 about being surrounded by a cloud of witnesses. It is because of that cloud that we should run the race marked especially for us with perseverance. With Christ as both our Finish Line and our Prize, we witness each other's races. We bring encouragement to each other's lives.

Community challenges. Community cheers. Community creates a renewal of spirit, a rededication to the purpose, passion and plan for our lives, and a reawakening to the Voice that calls us through the valleys--and up the hills!--of our races.

"Let us fix our eyes upon Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:2

Mamaw

My grandmother had open heart surgery two weeks ago, and has been recovering "well" for an 88 year old woman. Last night, my sister called to let me know that Mamaw had taken a turn for the worse. Her bypasses were failing, they'd performed an emergency stint, and the doctors were pessimistic. She's frightened. She's hurting. She's 800 miles away.

I'm so grateful I got to see her on Christmas Day, and then again on the Saturday afterwards at her house. She was more frail than I remembered, and hindsight being what it is, certainly feeling the effects of multiple coronary blockages. But I know it brought her joy to have all the grandchildren, and great-grandchildren gathered together.

Mamaw lived less than an hour from me when I was a child, and was the grandmother I got to visit every month. I spent lots of time with Mamaw and Papaw, and even worked for them in their grocery store long before I could have worked anywhere else. My fondest memories of that summer include hoop cheese and saltines, and learning that vanilla extract is bought by alcoholics in a dry county.

My Mamaw was a strong young woman, opinionated, proud, capable, and active. She's the world's greatest cook--her biscuits are divine--and I take credit for encouraging her to resume quilting in her last 25 years of life. (Her first quilt in years was the one she made for my wedding gift, upon my request.) This afternoon, the girls and I were talking about Mamaw's upcoming birthday in March, and had discussed making her a quilt...we figured no one makes a quiltmaker a quilt. I don't think we'll get that chance.

I love you, Mamaw.

Thoughts...could be disturbing!

I made a decision to begin a blog. It's amazing I've waited so long. I've had an email address for nearly 20 years now. Long before most of my family or friends, I was pecking away on a mainframe computer in a math department five thousand miles away. I have read others' blogs, happily keeping up with their lives, watching their children grow, reading their ideas on all things political, marital or immaterial.

Now my thoughts will be available for your perusal. You may be sorry. My thoughts run the gamut from quiltmaking to best book choices to mathematics and science research and all sorts of educational materials, to fashion for first ladies and newest adoptions by movie stars, and all things musical, particularly containing Neil Patrick Harris. Disturbed yet? Give me time.