Musings

Gone Tomorrow

Tammy M CardwellLeave a comment
Copyright Barry Hatch All rights reserved
Copyright Barry Hatch
All rights reserved

We were in the back of our Girl Scout leader’s car, on our way to a campout, when I overheard a girl with short, curly hair telling the story of the day years before when she had gotten her incredibly long hair cut off. As I heard the details, I popped up and interrupted her to ask if she remembered two girls watching. She did, and I informed her that I was one of those girls. RAM – Randomly, I instantly accessed a memory I’d totally forgotten. (And, just as randomly, it was the “Hare Today” title of a previous post that triggered this memory as well as inspiring today’s title.)

Mother was a hair stylist (We called them beauticians in those days.) until I was in Junior High and my parents started a business. As a result of her profession, Clarissa and I spent many hours in various salons. The day the girl came in with the longest hair I’d ever seen on a child (she could sit on it) and cut it SHORT really had burned itself into my hard drive. I may not access the information often, but it’s there.

I remember being appalled. I remember being astounded that she was so happy with her new ‘do.’ I remember being convinced that she would regret it forever.

How often, in life, are we able to get answers to our impossible questions? I mean, really? When I realized who she was, I had to know. Had she regretted it? Ever?

“Never!” she said with a smile.

No, it wasn’t one of the great questions of the universe, but it was satisfying to finally have it answered nonetheless. I love it when things like that happen!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

Hare Today

Tammy M CardwellLeave a comment
Copyright Barry Hatch All rights reserved
Copyright Barry Hatch
All rights reserved

 

Venitta and Vanessa Hare

They were the youngest daughters of one my Mother’s friends. It amazes me, actually, that I remember them at all, because the time during which our moms would have been friends had to have been fairly short.

Nonetheless, assuming the few memories I have are accurate and not my childhood brain combining multiple stories, I can tell you they were Catholic, because they were studying them one day and they said their mom only allowed Catholic Bibles in the house; there was a baby in the picture somewhere, because their home was the first in which I saw how much babies liked to play with keys (real ones, not those plastic toys); and their older siblings were…a little creative.

On the night I’m remembering, our moms went out somewhere and Clarissa (my sister) and I, along with Venitta and Vanessa, were left in the care of their older siblings – one of which obviously had a car. I remember watching a what-to-do discussion as our babysitters tried to decide how to have fun while keeping the kids. They settled on going to the movies.

Normal. Right?

Unless you’re going to a drive-in theater with limited funds, want to see movies little kids can’t see legally, and those kids really are little…little enough to fit in the trunk.

Yep, that was my first experience with truly breaking the rules. It was, bless God, my only experience inside a car’s trunk. Well, except that it happened more than once that night. As I recall, the first movie didn’t serve, so we went to another…and perhaps a third?

Another first that night was “rated” movies. I saw things at one of them that… Well, I think they figured out they’d blown it at that one, because we didn’t stay long after the scene that messed with my young head.

It never ceases to amaze me, this random access we have to memories from decades ago. It’s also intriguing to consider: How accurate ARE my memories of my two young friends? Assuming Venitta and Vanessa are out there, do they remember us? Do they remember that night? Are they as dedicated to their Bibles today as they seemed to be then?

Gotta wonder.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

Untoed Consequences

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(How lame is that title?!)

It’s amazing how an incident in your past can affect your present. When I was a child, we ran around barefoot all the time. We also lived on the water and enjoyed going down to the water’s edge to fish. One day, a broken bottle made its way to the bank’s surface and sliced through the big toe you can’t quite see here. I’ve dealt with the consequences of that day ever since. 

The scar tissue that builds up is terrible. It’s not so bad during the winter when I wear a lot of low-healed boots that have plenty of toe room, but the minute spring hits, with its pretty heels, so does the pain. I used to just live with it, but the older I get the less willing I am to do that, so pedicures are now my friend. 

There’s nothing wrong with running around barefoot, though I seldom do it anymore, but every trip to the nail salon is a reminder that every decision we make, even those that are seemingly inconsequential, has the potential to affect us (and others) for a very long time. 

Celebrating Jesus!

Tammy C

The Trick’s a Treat

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I’ve been in a few conversations, lately, regarding introverts and extroverts. For those who don’t know the difference, the most basic explanation has to do with how you recharge your batteries. If being in crowds wears on you and drawing away for some alone time builds you back up, you’re an introvert. You’re like me.

I’ve learned how to live in an extroverted world, of course…so much so that many don’t even know this detail about Tammy. The fact remains, however, that too much time spent in large groups of people will eventually find me hiding out for a few minutes in a bathroom stall with my eyes closed, gathering myself so that I can get back out among them.

None of which really has anything to do with why I even picked up my phone to blog today. I was actually thinking, this afternoon, about the seeming contradictions where introverts are concerned. For instance, while you might expect those who enjoy speaking in public (Yes, at one time I did a few times every year) to be extroverts, I’ve found that many of my favorite speakers are actually introverts.

And then there are things like the school play. I don’t know if this is really an introvert thing, but I think so.

I always wanted to be involved in drama in school, but didn’t have the nerve. When they were putting on one of my favorite plays one year, I REALLY wanted to try out, but signed up for tech instead–even that was huge for me.

Fortunately for me, I had friends who knew me well enough that they tricked me into trying out even though I wasn’t officially supposed to. I clearly remember, while I was singing, the director asking, “Who is that?”

I didn’t get a part that day, but when one of those friends had to drop out a couple of weeks later I was offered her spot (I even eventually got a three-word solo. LOL!).

My point is this. Sometimes we introverts really do want to take part in what you extroverts are doing, desperately want to take part. At those times, if you know us well enough to recognize our need, we actually (eventually) appreciate it when you push/force/trick us into following our rapidly palpitating hearts. At least…I did. I had a great time that year and have never forgotten what a treat it was to be tricked by those friends.

Celebrating Jesus!

Tammy C

The Path

Tammy M Cardwell2 Comments
El Yungue Rain Forest, Puerto Rico
Copyright Clarissa Pardue 2014

Visit my Pintrest board and you’ll find a collection of pathways. I don’t even know how many I’ve pinned. I know only that I could easily pin hundreds more if I had time to sit and peruse the options.

Paths have always fascinated me. I look at a picture of a pathway that wanders off into the distance and the fairy tale loving part of me wonders, “What’s beyond that curve? What would I reach if I could follow it to the end?” I have this absurd sense that I, like Alice, could step through the frame and see.

It’s not just any paths I love, though. I appreciate well-manicured paths and paths that have been laid with stones or even railroad ties, but the ones I love best are truly natural paths, paths that speak of hundreds of footsteps (or hoof steps!) wearing down the grass over a period of time, paths that indicate something worth pursing, something that inexorably draws one forward to…

To what?

To the future, in a sense. To the unknown country that lies before us. I’ve never been one to settle for the here and now alone. No…I dream of what’s to come. I always have. Not that I let those dreams interfere with today, of course – usually – but rather that they drive me today in hopes of being ready to experience the best of tomorrow…and next week…and…

So, now that I think about it, I AM on one of those paths, and the photos I so delightedly collect also represent the various faces of the path I’m on. Interesting, how your thoughts can ramble in unexpected directions and you can see one thing in yourself while speaking of others.

What was it Bilbo said? “It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

May your eyes be opened to your path, and may you be swept off your feet today.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

Stepping Stones

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I recently had occasion to remember a discussion I heard years ago between two friends. We were all in the same ministry and one told the other, in reference to that ministry, something along the lines of, “But we’re different. We have a call on our lives and this is just a stepping stone to something bigger.” I was appalled. I didn’t respond, because I was so much in shock at her audacity, but even though I was fairly young at the time I knew enough about God to know He doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t deal in stepping stones.

I’m still stymied when I consider that any Christian would think that way. I mean… When using a stepping stone, what is your mindset? It’s to get OFF. If you think of any ministry as being nothing more than a stepping stone, you’re going in at least somewhat with the attitude that the ministry itself doesn’t matter other than in its service to you, and you don’t plan to be there long. That attitude is so completely unscriptural that I can’t even fathom a Christian having it. I know many do; it’s just beyond me.

I don’t choose the ministries in which I serve; I let God choose for me. He knows exactly what I am now and what He wants me to become. He plants me where I need to be to grow into that person, and He plants me where I can prove most effective for His Kingdom – all of which may or may not have anything to do with what I want to do. Someone once expressed to me the idea that he had a specific call on his life and it didn’t make sense to serve in any area that wouldn’t further that call – yes, I did speak up that time, because I’ve learned through experience just how erroneous that thinking is…and how dangerous.

The person who made the original “stepping stone” reference? If she ever did move on to the bigger and better things she was anticipating, I don’t know about it. I can’t help but wonder if her attitude was part of the reason why.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

Memories

Tammy M Cardwell1 Comment
Copyright Barry Hatch All rights reserved
Copyright Barry Hatch
All rights reserved

Memories are powerful things. My mother-in-love demanded that we not use our chosen girl’s name because of bad memories of a childhood not-friend. (Good thing we had a boy!) I refuse to even consider trying liver because of the clear memory of my stepmother trying to make me eat it as a kid. (Good thing Mother showed up!) Depending on their nature, memories can either hold us prisoner or free us – and they can be triggered by the simplest things.

The above photo took me instantly back to the best place on earth, my grandparents’ house on a country road halfway between Teague and Mexia (Texas). Granny always had this very plant and the hummingbirds that frequented it were her delight – mine too. In truth, I can hardly think about hummingbirds without thinking of her.

Memories of Granny lead me through rows of clean sheets hanging on the lines, past her in her sunbonnet picking peas, on to Grandaddy striding across the pasture with a faithful dog at his side. Then the dogs come out of memory’s hiding places. First there’s Shep, who I’m sure was named after Laura Ingalls Wilder’s dog; he was old, deaf, mostly blind, but such a lover. Then there come other dogs, not as distinct, until  you get to Bouncer. Grandaddy considered naming him Battle Ax; thank God he listed to reason and accepted that any dog inclined to bounce on and off the porch like this one deserved only one name.

Bouncer is the last dog I remember. Grandaddy passed away and later, the very day I finished a leather collar for him in art class, we learned that Bouncer had been killed by a car. Granny never got another dog…I don’t think? I remember a conversation about how much traffic had increased on her road and what a danger it was to dogs. I don’t know… I was older then, and didn’t have as much time to spend up country, so I really don’t remember.

Even that thought triggers memories, though. When I was a child, you heard more wolves howling in the fields than cars driving down the road. I wonder…as much as the area has grown up…if those who live there now even hear the wolves anymore.

Memories are wonderful things. With them, we can get as close to time travel as we ever will in this life, stepping backwards in an instant to relive all we thought we’d left behind.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

The Devil’s Weapons

Tammy M CardwellLeave a comment

“Then take the second bull and offer a burnt sacrifice with the wood of the Asherah which you shall cut down.” Judg 6:26b [AMP]

In a recent study of this passage, it struck me. Why? There would have been plenty of wood around: Gideon didn’t need the Asherah pole for kindling. It almost seems wrong to use something at which many have worshiped to burn a holy sacrifice, yet this is the very wood God chose. So I asked Him why…and He took me to The Cross.

“Christ purchased our freedom [redeeming us] from the curse [doom] of the Law [and its condemnation] by [himself] becoming a curse for us, for it is written [in the Scriptures], cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree (is crucified);” Gal 3:13 [AMP]

The devil was very pleased with himself on Crucifixion Day. Here he had the ultimate weapon, a curse-bearing cross, and he used it to put Jesus on display as a sign and symbol of God’s ultimate defeat – or so he supposed. The cross he put so much stock in proved, rather, to be a tool in God’s hands, an eternal symbol of God’s ultimate victory.

God not only permitted His Holiest Sacrifice to be laid on this foul cross; He required it.

So now it makes sense. If you consider Gideon’s Asherah pole as a type and shadow of The Cross, it reveals that God can turn even the devil’s most prized weapons into tools to serve His purposes. The devil never outranks God and, no matter how hard he works to pervert things, The Almighty can redeem them all, turn them, and make them serve the purposes for which He originally created them.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

$1.16

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One day while I was in prayer, God pointed out the weight of my purse. Its weight was no great revelation because I knew it was heavy, so much so that it was actually affecting my back. He had a purpose in pointing it out, though. He told me to find all of the coins that were in it and remove them.

Suddenly my purse weighed less – a lot less – and I’d only removed $1.16. It was less than a handful of coins, not even enough to buy a soda, but they’d added astounding weight that I was carrying around constantly!

And God made His point: Just as it’s the little foxes that spoil the vine (Song of Solomon 2:15), it is the small things that most often weigh us down. it’s not usually the big things that really drag on us, but those little things we aren’t watching for, the small “concerns,” the minor “habits,” the little “hurts…” We fail to notice them adding up, so they hang around like coins in the bottom of a purse until one day we exclaim, “God, I can’t carry this anymore!”

Of course, it’s not “this” we can’t carry, but “these,” and one by one God faithfully helps us pull each of them out and get rid of them until the weight is gone and we can walk upright again. How much better would it be if we never got weighed down in the first place?

The best way to make sure the small things don’t add up is to be ever on the lookout, watchful and prepared to deal with them. The best way to ensure we are dealing with everything is to be constantly listening to that still, small voice and doing what the Holy Spirit says.

No one needs the weight of $1.16.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

Forbidden Fruit

Tammy M Cardwell2 Comments

Every once in a while you hear someone refer to the “forbidden fruit,” and it seems like a debate often follows on whether or not the fruit was an apple…maybe a fig…

What?

I don’t get that debate at all. There was one Tree of The Knowledge of Good and Evil and one Tree of Life – both of which were, of course, in the Garden of Eden. When God cast Adam and Eve out of the garden, they were denied any further access to both of those trees. We still don’t have access to either of those trees.

So whatever the forbidden fruit is, it seems logical to me that we don’t have it, have never seen it, and will not know what it even looks like until we’re walking with Him in eternity.

Am I the only one who sees this as being obvious?

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C