Michele Huey's Blog: God, Me, and a Cup of Tea, page 9

Remembering Mom

The Maddock family, circa late 1960s (missing my brother, Pete)

From left, front: me, my sister Judi; back: Mom (Mary), Dad (Pete)

Her children rise up and call her blessed. – Proverbs 31:28 (ESV) 

My mother wasn’t the cuddly, “warm fuzzy” type. She was a strict disciplinarian who found joy in family, faith, hard work, and music.

She didn’t need an alarm clock to awaken her at 5 a.m. Her biological clock did it for her. She woke up wound up, kept wound up with pots of coffee, and finally wound down after the dinner dishes were done.

 Back then, there were no dishwashers, automatic washers, and clothes dryers. Dishes, pots, and pans were washed and dried by hand, then put away as soon as the meal was done. Clothes were washed in a wringer washer and hung on a line to dry. When the weather was cooperative, they sashayed in the outside breeze (after a finger-wagging to heaven from my mom—“Now don’t You let it rain!”). When it wasn’t clothes-drying weather, they hung from wire lines strung through the basement.

Mom never left a job for the next day, unless it was a major project, like knocking old plaster off a wall with a crowbar to prepare it for new plaster. She could snore away on the sofa in peace every evening because her work for the day was done.

Paydays meant trips to the bank, the grocery store, the utility company, and wherever else money was owed or something needed — and she walked because she didn’t drive. Dad tried to teach her, but she ran the car into a telephone pole and refused to get behind the wheel again. We used no credit cards. If the store extended credit, the bill was paid on payday.

She did not have a job outside the home. Her house and family were her job. She was the family accountant and, because of her childhood poverty, knew how to stretch a dollar. So when Dad was laid off, she knew how to tightening our belts, with using toilet paper for facial tissues and serving meatless meals, such as bowties and cottage cheese or tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches — still two of my favorite meals today.

Technology was on the distant horizon. No one was tethered to an electronic device 24/7, so I had time to learn to play the piano, visit with Baba (our grandmother) across the street, go to the library, and read to my heart’s content.

Life was simpler. We were taught to obey and respect our parents and teachers. If we didn’t, there was a leather strap in a kitchen drawer that was to be avoided at all costs. 

“A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed better than silver or gold” (Proverbs 22:1) was one of the Maddock family mottos, as well as “Honor your father and your mother” (Exodus 20:12).

I never realized how much my mother modeled the Proverbs 31 woman until I sat down to write this column. 

I only wish Mom were alive today so I could tell her, “Many women do noble things, Mom, but you surpassed them all. I love you. Thank you for teaching me, by example, how to be a wife, a mother, and a woman of character. ”

 Help me, Lord, to be a Proverbs 31 woman. Amen.

Read ands reflect on Proverbs 31: 10–31.

From God, Me, and a Cup of Tea for the Seasons, © 2018 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

It’s Lilac Time

Our lives are a fragrance presented by Christ to God. –2 Corinthians 2:15 (NLT)

When we first moved to the country, my mother-in-law gave me a small lilac bush, an offshoot of one that grew in her yard. I planted it in the ground at the front corner of the house, upwind, so the soft spring breezes would carry the heady fragrance of the flowers through open windows. After being closed up all winter, I reasoned, the house would smell fresh and clean. 

It didn’t quite work out that way. The first few years, the bush grew, but not the flowers. The transplant needed to take to the soil and grow a strong root system before it would blossom.

Then there were the years an early spell of warm, summer-like weather coaxed the buds out, but then a heavy frost would freeze the blossoms. We still got flowers, just not as many. 

Each year, the bush grew taller and fuller. Each year, I’d open my windows, but somehow the sweet scent of lilacs didn’t fill the house as I’d envisioned – until 25 years after I planted it. Perhaps the bush needed time to mature. Fragrant purple blossoms now cover the bush, which is nearly 20 feet high and 10 feet across, dominating that corner of the yard. And the sweet smell of lilacs fills my home day and night. At last.

My lilac bush and I are alike. When I first became a Christian, I wanted to set the world on fire for Christ. I was bold, enthusiastic, hungry for God-knowledge, and wanting to share what I had with everyone around me. I had dreams of packing up my guitar on going on the road, singing the songs I wrote and telling audiences about God. Didn’t Jesus tell command us to go into all the world and tell others about Him? 

But things didn’t work out the way I’d envisioned. Three months after I told God I’d do anything for Him, I was pregnant with our third child. No going into all the world for me. My guitar would have to idle in a forgotten corner, my music on a dusty shelf, while my fingers busied themselves, not with plucking strings, but diapers, dishes, dust rags, and dirty clothes. 

But those were good years – in hindsight, the best years of my life. I spent a lot of time in the Word and on my knees. Like the lilac bush, I needed time to mature, to grow my roots deep in Him, to weather the extremes of life. Funny, but now that my children are grown and I have the time and opportunity to do what I dreamed of so many years ago, I find myself wanting not to go into the world, but to stay home. 

But God has spent decades getting this lilac bush ready to do what He called me to do (and it’s not singing), and I must obey His call. It’s lilac time.

Dear God, let my life be a sweet-smelling fragrance to the world around me. Amen.

Read and reflect on 2 Corinthians 2:14-17.

© 2011, 2023 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Image by Nicky from Pixabay

False Notes

Image by Joanjo Puertos Muñoz from Pixabay

  Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here I am. Send me.” — Isaiah 6:8 NIV

Nervously I fingered my clarinet. It wasn’t every practice the high school band director stood right behind me. When the song ended, his booming voice filled the gym.

“Maddock!” he yelled. “How do you expect to play the song when you aren’t hitting the right notes?”

I’d been found out. 

After my father’s job layoff a few years earlier, my parents had to make every dollar stretch. I knew better than to ask for fun money. But I didn’t want to be left out, so when I got to high school, I came up with a plan that would enable me to attend the football games.

I knew the band director was seeking more members. I also knew the band got in the games free. So the summer before I started high school, I borrowed a clarinet from my sister’s boyfriend and began to teach myself how to play. 

Accepted into the band—I didn’t have to try out; he was that desperate for more members—I struggled to keep up with the more accomplished players. When I came to a note I didn’t know how to play—and there were plenty of those—or when the tempo of the song was too fast for me, I simply pretended to hit the notes.

But now my deception was discovered. It was truth time. I took a deep breath and answered, “I don’t know where they are, sir.”

The entire band, director included, erupted in laughter. By the time I was a senior, I’d moved up from the third to the first section. 

If I’d waited until I felt comfortable and accomplished—until I thought I was “good enough”—I would have missed out on what became the most memorable and fun experiences of my high school years. 

The same is true in life. While it’s good to be prepared, sometimes we just need to take the plunge, learning as we go. Our performance doesn’t have to be flawless before we can make a meaningful contribution to the world in which we live. We’re going to hit false notes, but, like the band director who didn’t give up on me, God doesn’t give up on us. Instead He lovingly gives us the song of our lives, note by note.

 When I feel intimidated and unsure of myself, remind me, Lord, You don’t need perfect vessels, only willing ones. Amen.

 Read and reflect on Isaiah 6:1–8.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional readings to savor during your time with God, © 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

What Room Are You In?

“My Father’s house has many rooms.” – John 14:2a NIV

I was paging through my prayer journal when I came across an email I sent to my writing buddies following a time of discouragement.

“For a while I thought everything seemed to be drying up,” I’d written. “I was wrong. God told me this is but a season, to savor the quietness, the solitude, the unhurried pace of life because it will not always be so. Life will get hectic (another season), and I will long for this quiet time of peace. I am to fortify my spirit by spending time with Him, in His Word, in prayer, in feeding my heart, mind, and soul.

“I am not in the wilderness. I am not in the recovery room. I am not in the waiting room. I’m in the preparation room.”

The email was dated February 20, 2008, 15 years ago.

Seasons of life are more than the spring, summer, fall, and winter years. They are also times we live through – or rooms, if you will. We’re all in one room or another, aren’t we?

The waiting room. Here is where our patience is tested and grown. We don’t know how long we’ll be here, waiting to be examined and given a diagnosis. Our wondering leads to fear, anxiety, worry. Like David, we cry out, “How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?” (Psalm 13:1)

What can we do while we’re waiting?

Trust. God’s got this. “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths” (Proverbs 3:5–6).

Pray. Not for patience (Lord forbid!) but for strength for the wait.

I love what Melissa Sylvis, the speaker for the 2017 Punxsutawney Christian Women’s Conference, posted on Facebook: “When He opens a door, then the place is prepared for you and you have been prepared for that place! You can walk into it hand-in-hand with God, and then you will realize that it was worth the wait!”

The preparation room. This is where you get prepped for what’s coming up. It’s a busy room for all but you. You lie (or sit) there, feeling helpless, anxious, and fearful. What’s the best thing you can do?

Submit. To the experts’ ministrations. They know what they’re doing. So does God, who sends people and circumstances your way to prepare you for what He knows is up ahead. Trust comes into play here, too.

The operating room. This is where the fixes take place. Note you’re not the surgeon. You’re not the anesthesiologist. You’re not on the medical team. You’re on the operating table. Your life is in the hands of the Master Surgeon.

In a real operating room, you’re usually asleep, unaware of what’s happening. But for our analogy, you’re aware of what’s happening, but you don’t know why. You don’t see the end result. You have to trust your life in the Healer’s hands, believing that He knows what’s best for you. That all this is according to His plan and purpose for you, to mold you into His vision for you.

The recovery room. Here is where you recover under the watchful eyes and skilled care of a trained medical staff. Often you’re taken to therapy, where muscles are stretched and strengthened, where sometimes you have to re-learn things or learn new ways to cope.

“There are times I cry in anxiety and frustration, in fear and discouragement,” I wrote in my email. “But I live expectantly. I am to enjoy this time, savor it, and not rush to get through it.”

Note that every room has a requirement if you’re to get through it successfully: Trust. In God, His Word, His promises, His steadfast love. Trust in His goodness, mercy, and grace.

What room are you in?

Lord, I trust You. I really do! Help me when my faith falters. Remind me to rest on Your unchanging grace and let You do what You do best. Amen.

Read and meditate on Psalm 91

© 2018 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

God’s Storehouse

Read and reflect on Matthew 7:7–11.

Ask and it will be given to you. –Matthew 7:7 (NIV)

I was going through a kitchen cupboard looking for a set of keys when I discovered $130, cash, I didn’t know we had. I was so excited! Not that I was ready to go out and spend it right away, but it sure was nice to realize we weren’t as broke as we thought we were. 

Hubby and I have never been big spenders. When the kids were little and his was the only paycheck coming in, we had to be tightwads. Now that the kids are on their own and I’m able to contribute to the breadwinning, we still hesitate to spend money. 

Not that it’s bad—in today’s world, it’s what helps us survive when the living expenses increase and the income stays the same. We just don’t want to dip into what reserves we have set aside in case something comes up that we’ll need it and won’t have it. 

I wonder if I apply the same “don’t spend” philosophy to the riches I have in Christ. How often do I access God’s storehouse?

I’m not talking about material goods, although God does promise to provide for all our needs (see Matthew 6:25–34 and Philippians 4:19). I’m referring to spiritual riches—and they aren’t just for when we get to heaven. They’re available to us now, while we make our way through life. In fact, we need them now.

While God’s storehouse overflows with riches “exceedingly abundantly above all that we can ask or imagine,” today we’ll look at just one: grace.

Grace is receiving something I don’t deserve—forgiveness for my sin before I even asked and eternal life in heaven. 

As fabulous and mindboggling as that definition is, there’s more to grace. Grace includes God’s daily care of each of us, His strength, His guidance. Grace is why we can carry the cross we’re called to carry, bear the pain we’re called to bear, tolerate people we don’t particularly like, and—going even further—show them kindness. 

Grace is what enables us to love our enemies, bless those who curse us, do good to those who hate us, and pray for those who spitefully use us and persecute us (Matthew 5:44). We couldn’t even begin to do that on our own.

Remember Paul’s thorn in the flesh? We all have at least one, don’t we? Paul prayed more than once for God to remove it. God’s answer to Paul is the same as His answer to us: “My grace is sufficient” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

His grace is all we need—for anything and everything. His grace is why we can go to God in prayer, and go boldly (see Hebrews 4:16).

God’s grace, like the rest of the treasures in His storehouse, is unlimited, infinite and available to us 24/7. All we have to do is ask. 

Have you made a withdrawal from God’s storehouse lately?

 Remind me, Father, that I have all I need in You. All I have to do is ask. Amen.

© 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. 

Easter Blessings

Silent Saturday

Sunrise over the Flat Tops Wilderness Area in the Colorado Rockies (Picture taken by Wilbur D. Huey)

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. –Psalm 30:5 (KJV)

I call the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday “Silent Saturday.”

As a child I faithfully attended Holy Thursday and Good Friday services. One of the things I remember about this time right before Easter is that no music was played in church. The organ was silent, as were the bells and other instruments. Songs were sung a cappella.

This period of silence impressed upon me the solemnness of the time when God’s Son was betrayed, condemned, crucified, and buried, paying the price for the sins of all mankind from the dawn of creation to the end of time.

I knew, of course, what would follow—Easter! The day Jesus burst out of that Mid-Eastern tomb in all His glory—alive forever! The return of music! The return of hope and joy.

Little, if anything, is said in the Gospels about “Silent Saturday.” For the Jews of that time, it was the Sabbath, a day of rest. A day no work was to be done.

We read nothing of what Jesus’ followers did that day.

We can only imagine what they felt: Grief. Hopelessness. Despair. Terror. If the Jewish authorities could do this to Jesus, who performed all those miracles and claimed to be God’s Son, what would they do to His disciples? So they hid, their dreams for the Kingdom and their places in it shattered, their future uncertain. The plan, they thought, went horribly, horribly wrong.

Or did it?

They had no idea that actually everything was going wonderfully, impossibly, exactly according to plan—God’s plan. They didn’t know they were in the waiting room—not the hiding place—between deep despair and unbridled joy. Between apparent defeat and glorious triumph. Between paralyzing terror and a holy boldness that would set the world on fire and launch the Jesus Movement.

But, oh! That first Easter morning—who could even begin to describe the wonder they experienced at the empty tomb, the joy at seeing Jesus alive? It was exceedingly, abundantly, above all they could have imagined.

But they didn’t know all that on Silent Saturday.

What about you?

Are you in a “Silent Saturday” time of your life? Are you dealing with grief, loss, bitter disappointment, discouragement, night-long weeping? Are you scraping at the bottom of the empty barrel of hope? Fighting despair and feel like you’re losing the battle? Thinking that your dreams, your future, are sealed up in a tomb of decay?

Hang on, dear one loved by God. Saturday will pass. The night of weeping will end.

The Son will burst over the horizon, His rays chasing away despair and flooding your soul with hope and joy.

It’s Silent Saturday, but get ready, Pilgrim. Sunday’s coming.

Thank You, God, for Easter, when hope springs eternal. Amen.

Read and meditate on John 16:16–33

A Poem for Good Friday

From Amazed to Afraid

Without Purse or Script” by Liz L. Swindle

Read and reflect on Mark 10:32-34.

Now they were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was going before them; and they were amazed. And as they followed, they were afraid.  – Mark 10:32  NKJV

Jesus was walking into a lion’s den. The disciples knew the Pharisees were just waiting for a chance to get rid of Him. They’d witnessed the many times the Pharisees had tried to trap Jesus. And they’d heard the words of warning Jesus had given them twice before: That He would suffer terrible things when He went to Jerusalem, be rejected by the religious powers that be, and be killed. And He’d rise from the dead.

They knew danger lay ahead, but there was no convincing Jesus to stay out of Jerusalem. They couldn’t fathom it. Their sense was to protect their Master, to keep Him with them as long as possible. Why would He knowingly go to a place where death awaited Him? They were amazed not only that He dared to go but also that His steps were firm, His attitude resolute.

Amazement was nothing new to the disciples. It had been a daily occurrence for the three years they’d followed Him, lived with Him, learned from Him. But their amazement turned to fear as they drew nearer to the “City of Peace.” Did Jesus want to die?

Yes. He had to, for only the sinless Lamb could become the sacrifice needed to take away our sins. This wasn’t what they signed on for three years earlier when Jesus invited them to follow Him. They thought He’d set up His kingdom and they’d be the bigwigs. James and John even asked to sit on either side of Him—the places of highest honor. How little they understood!

Isn’t the same with us? When we first decide to follow Jesus, we’re excited, amazed, hopeful for what’s ahead. Then things don’t turn out the way we expect. Instead of reward for our sacrifices, for our good deeds, we get trials and troubles. Like the disciples, we don’t fathom the eternal significance of our decision or of our daily choices. We don’t want to wait for our rewards. We want to enjoy them now. We follow Him in amazement at first, then as the road gets steeper and we begin to understand the real cost of following Jesus, the fear sets in.

The remedy for fear is to do what Jesus did: Focus on the Father. Like Corrie ten Boom said: “Never be afraid to trust the unknown future to a known God.”

Never let the amazement of following You dwindle, O Lord. Keep my face set to Jerusalem. Amen.

From God, Me & a Cup of Tea for the Seasons, © 2018 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

Fools and Fun

The fool says in his heart, “There is no God.” –Psalm 14:1  NIV

A British television station once broadcast a documentary about “spaghetti farmers” and how they harvested their crop from “spaghetti trees.” The film, however, was an elaborate April Fools’ Day joke and wasn’t to be taken seriously.

The harmless pranks played on the unsuspecting, such as telling someone his shoe is untied or a spider is in her hair, are all in fun, and falling victim to an April Fools’ Day joke doesn’t mean you’re a fool, but that you’ve been fooled. There’s a difference.

A fool, by definition, is someone who lacks common sense and wisdom. These are the people for whom the day is named. 

Until 1582 the New Year was observed around the spring equinox, at the end of March, with an eight-day celebration that culminated on April 1. But with the introduction of the Gregorian calendar, New Year’s Day was moved to January 1. Back in those days, communication was slow, and it took several years before everyone was on the same page. 

Some, however, adamantly refused to change and continued to celebrate the New Year on April 1. These stubborn folks were called fools and became the target of mean-spirited jokes meant to harass them. 

Being a fool is no fun and is dangerous to your spiritual health. In biblical times, calling someone a fool was the worst thing you could say about him. 

According to God’s Word, a fool is a person who doesn’t believe in God, refuses to be taught, hates knowledge, has a quick temper and a quicker tongue, is impulsive and reckless, doesn’t take sin seriously, spreads slander, doesn’t learn from his mistakes, trusts in himself, insists he’s right, isn’t money-smart, despises discipline, refuses to correct what’s wrong, and is a bad influence. 

Today, even with an explosion of knowledge at our fingertips, fools abound. A fool isn’t someone who lacks knowledge but rather one who refuses to use it.

The remedy for foolishness is wisdom, and all we need to know in order to be wise is found in God’s Word. Reading it, meditating on it, and applying it to our lives prevents one from being an April Fool all year round.

 Dear God, sometimes I act like a fool. Give me the desire to read Your Word consistently and absorb it so that I may be wise. Amen.

 Read and reflect on Matthew 7:24–27.

From God, Me, and a Cup of Tea for the Seasons, © 2018, Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission.