The Heart of Appalachia

Growing up in the heart of Appalachia, I didn’t see poverty, and didn’t understand why the world laughed at us. Outsiders defined our language as back woods and ignorant, yet to our ears, we spoke in syllables of kindness, love, and familiarity. A hand shake was proof of your honesty; a wave of the hand on a two-lane, dirt road said “howdy,” even if you didn’t know them.

After a long day underground, face covered in coal soot, a miner could expect a hot meal of pinto beans, fried potatoes, and cornbread, slathered with honey or homemade apple butter.

I grew up going to church twice on Sundays, and Wednesday night prayer meeting. Hymn singing and testimony time were a natural response to our simple way of living, thankful to the God who provided for and sustained us. Neighbors talked over fences, taking a quick respite from hanging laundry on the clothesline, children and meal preparation the most common topic.

Multiple generations slept under the same roof on feather ticks made from yard chickens, snuggled under quilts made of hand-me-down dresses. Nothing was wasted in the homes of Appalachia.

Memorial Day Weekend was a sacred holiday to honor deceased family members. It was a special time of visiting the cemetery, placing flowers on loved ones' graves, and of course picture taking. A picnic sometimes followed, a time of reuniting with those who lived out of state. Oh, how I long for one more gathering with parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, whose graves I now decorate.

Sunday afternoons were made for driving country roads. Weathered barns with Mail Pouch Tobacco painted on the side lined the highway, along with corn fields and vegetable gardens. Families gathered on the porch swatting flies while children played in the yard. Stories abound on those sacred Sundays, no television in sight. It was a tradition, a time of catching up, connecting with your people.

The world sees poverty, I see wealth that money can’t buy. The world sees ignorance, I see wisdom beyond reproach. The world identifies us as the butt of their jokes, somehow invoking permission to humiliate us. 

I identify Appalachia as the breeding ground of humble, hard-working, family centered people who understand the value of relationships over things, a culture tethered to their roots, yet free to fly far and wide, secure in the knowledge that home is truly where the heart is.

Goodness of God

 I was in the choir loft of my church on a normal Sunday morning. We were singing The Goodness of God, one of my favorite contemporary songs. As my eyes scanned the congregation, I found my son, Andy, and his wife, Morgan. Tears welled at the corners of my eyes and slipped down my cheeks as we sang, All my days have been held in your hands. 

Early 90's

My thoughts drifted to nine years of an empty nursery, nine years of longing for children. I pictured my daughter, Bailey, a few miles across town in her worship service where her husband, Cameron, is on staff, and I sang, all my life you have been faithful, all my life you have been so, so good.

 

He is good, and He is faithful, and He loves me as no human could ever love, though I know I am loved by my humans. Sometimes when we’re mired in the darkness of everyday life, we can’t see His goodness, but it’s there, it’s always there.

Israel, May 2019

 

In my darkest hours, and there have been many, He was close like no other. As long as I have breath I will sing of the goodness of God.

 

My children are grown, and yet I will never get over God’s goodness to me. It fell afresh yesterday. 

Rest, Writing, and Thoughts About Aging

A recent afternoon spent at The Cove, in Asheville, North Carolina was nearly perfect. Is there such a thing as perfection? There is, but not in human form. This came mighty close.

 

I’m referring to an afternoon of rest, writing, conversations with friends, and a roaring fire. This doesn’t happen often, but when it does, you stop and take notice. My life is full and fully lived, a fete difficult to achieve. 

 

Growing older is not for the faint of heart, yet it’s also allowed me the opportunity to seize these moments and treasure them. Everyone needs time away for deep thoughts, uninterrupted time with God, and time to ponder life. I’ve been able to reflect on these things and have a few thoughts for those in my stage of life:

 

1.     Enjoy every day; the sun rises and sets the same for everyone. Make sure you spend your time doing something you love.

2.     Stop and play with the grands, they’ll grow too fast and you’ll regret time not spent with them. 

3.     Surround yourself with music. There’s a tune for every mood. Allow yourself walks down memory lane with your favorite oldies.

4.     Never stop learning. Knowledge is as close as your fingertips, and there’s a subject for everyone.

5.     Begin a new hobby, or hone the skills on a hobby you’ve enjoyed in the past.

6.     Nourish your friendships. Make time for those you love through scheduled dates; Lunch, coffee, a visit to a local garden, etc.

7.     Celebrate big. Every birthday, anniversary, and holiday is an opportunity to make memories. 

8.     Invest in a good study Bible, and use it. 

9.     Eat well, and exercise in whatever way your body can endure. Moving keeps you young. 

10.  Serve others. 

11.  Establish a routine that allows you to nourish your soul, body, and mind. Prioritize important things first in your day.

12.  Read, read, and read some more.

I am thankful and blessed to reach this stage of life. Only God knows the truth of this statement. He is my rock, my strength, and the song that I sing, and without Him, I am a weak, frightened little girl. He is the lifter of my head, and healer of my soul. To Him be all praise, now and forever.

On This Mountain

I don't normally post my poetry, but this one inspired me while visiting The Cove this weekend in Asheville, NC. There's something extra special about this place, and the words flowed. 

On this mountain, a place of peace and

respite lies deep in the forest. A place of

comfort with fireplaces and cozy furniture

arranged in a homey atmosphere. A place to

communicate with my Creator without

distractions. A place of quiet contemplation

to hear the still, small voice of Yahweh, peace 

in the midst of the raging storm that 

awaits in the valley.

 

Ancient forest displays mighty oaks, tall pines, 

strong cedars, and native rhododendrons, whose

lily-white leaves dot the mountainside in spring.

Trickling brook snakes its way to the creek over

worn rocks. Deer, turkeys, squirrels, and the local

bears sip from the cold mountain stream.

 

You walk among us on the mountain. Words of

encouragement, exhortation, and instruction flow

freely. May these words cover me as a warm

blanket, may they seep into the broken places and 

bind my wounds.

 

Your Word is better than life, and on this mountain

I am alive.

 

 

Saying Yes To Mentoring

 I’ve been participating in a women’s mentoring ministry through my church for the last nine months. My mentoring partner, Katy, and I have five lovely ladies we meet with as a group. Our goal is to meet once per month, but with seven schedules to coordinate, it’s nearly impossible, but we’ve still managed to get together. We also meet one on one, sharing life’s ups and downs and everything in between.

 

As we’re nearing the completion of our time together, I’ve been reflecting on my role as a mentor, a friend, an older lady. Just writing those words feels weird. I don’t see myself as older, yet the calendar tells me otherwise. The mirror does too, but I like soft lighting, and long narrow mirrors from a distance. In all seriousness though, it’s a privilege and gift to grow older. Not everyone has the opportunity to pour themselves into another person because of age, experience, and spiritual depth. 

 

The devotional I’m reading through this year centered on Moses’ beginning and ending of his ministry. When God called him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, he challenged God’s request. His response was, “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”

 

God responded with, “I will be with you.” 

 

Moses continued to question God by saying, “What if they do not believe me or listen to me…?”

 

You know the rest of the story. Hollywood even recognized the importance of Moses’ eventual obedience. He led God’s people to freedom, with his brother Aaron, and sister Miriam by his side. 

 

Moses’ testimony at the end of his life is very different from the one he began with: 

 

Then Moses summons Joshua and said to him in the presence of all Israel, “Be strong and courageous, for you must go with this people into he land that the Lord swore to their forefathers to give them, and you must divide it among them as their inheritance. The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” 

                                                           
                                                               Deuteronomy 31:7-8

 

I’d never identified with Moses, until now. 

 

The role of mentor involves many things, but the one I love the most is reminding these precious ones that God goes before them, and will never leave them. I love encouraging them, listening to the details of their lives, and sharing how God has shown himself faithful to me. 

 

Moses’ life was coming to an end and he wanted to impart the wisdom he’d gained after following and obeying God for forty years. I can’t think of a better way to end one’s life than sharing the goodness of God to the next generation. 

 

Sharing the joy and heartache of your life might be the very thing someone needs to hear to know they’re not alone. You could be a Moses to someone when you remind him or her to not be afraid or discouraged. I’m glad someone did that for me.