Finding Joy In Strength

     Each one of us has personality traits that make and mold us into who we are and how we react to the world around us. I have been blessed to have been born with strength.
     From my Mother and my maternal aunts and grandparents,  I have been the recipient of a legacy based on having strong faith in God. I have not only experienced it, but was taught early on, not to be a casual observer but to grow my own faith in our Lord.  From my Daddy, his siblings and a long line of " Parkers", I was born with a strong sense of self strength.  Daddy's philosophy was, "If there is no way, then make a way, and don't let yourself or anyone stop you."   Being often referred to as stubborn, strong willed, or pig headed was never taken offensive as it was known to me from a child that it was expected of me to be strong.  There are multiple times in my life that these two qualities compliment each other, but there are also times that they instigate a war inside of me and with those close to me.
     It is my desire that Psalm 19:14 be my theme in this area of my life.  it reads, "Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my Strength, and my Redeemer."
     My Mothers explanation of strength, of which I have not fully reached, was found in the Lord and was quite simple yet profound. " God has everything under control and He doesn't need our help, just our trust...if you worry, don't waste your time or the Lord's praying, and if you pray, there is no need or time to worry." On numerous occasions after knowing that I was again praying over a specific request, she would ask, " Are you worrying the Lord over that again? Where is your faith?"
     Her strong faith was evident not only through her youth but through a 59 year marriage to a man who loved her yet at times stepped outside his own faith.  Her strength obtained in our Lord carried her as her younger sister breathed away from tuberculosis, leaving in addition to mother's 5 children, 5 more for her to lovingly raise and nurture. Her faith shone bright when the Lord blessed her with an overactive young girl, ( me!!! ) and continued to shine my entire life. Throughout the years her strength found in the Lord carried her through numberless trials including hardships associated with WWII and the financial challenges of raising a home full of children.  Along with sickness, minor accidents associated with the average family, she strongly faced a near tragic accident for one son.  His accident not the average car accident, but one resulting in multiple injuries with the primary problem being that my brother had every bone in his face broken.  Armed only with her trust in the Lord and local physicians, my Mothers strong faith triumphed again.  Her strength continued to prevail over time as she said goodbye to her sons and numerous nephews leaving to serve in places she never knew existed.  Those still at home provided almost an equal or greater need for her strength.  Some temporarily chose a wayward path, while others left the nest and sometimes the state to seek their own path in life.
     Her last and strongest battle proved a strength that not only affected our family, but everyone from the local hospital to our entire community as Mother encountered cancer.  Mother's cancer was not just a spot or a lump but extremely invasive cancer that, until she prayed, claimed space in her breast, bones and blood.  It was a happy but hesitant surgeon that gathered my strong Mother and six scared children to rescind all evidence of cancer in her body. Mother who was not above worry reassured the surgeon there would be no legal ramifications for his diagnosis. The cancer had been much present in Mother's body during her days of worry. With all boldness only strength from the Lord can give, she stated to an educated, experienced, highly respected surgeon. " I didn't expect you to know it was gone because you weren't there when He healed us, it was me, my grandson and the Lord in that deal". You see her faith and strength also left a praying grandson to this day,,, cancer free.
     My Daddy on the other hand faced not only a hard life along with his eight siblings, but a hard hearted, hard fisted, part Cherokee Daddy.  Accumulation of a name for yourself, money, property, and homes equated self worth  to his abusive moonshining Daddy.  Love given and shared in my Daddy's early home was limited to only what my Grandmother could give and inspire in her children. This love was not particularily a spoken love but was measured by what you  gave or did for others.   My Grandfather had faced an early death, following repeated altercations with  my Grandmother and one life ending altercation with one or more of my uncles. To this day, details are not discussed freely with most true knowledge going to the graves of  those same uncles.  Following this incident, an even stronger sense of responsibility and self reliance matured in my Daddy. Needles to say from that day forward,  my Grandmother and my Daddy's siblings were given as much as my Daddy could provide,  for as long as my Daddy could get what he thought they needed and take it to them.  I have been honored to both ride shotgun and hold Daddy's gun as he traveled from home to home taking extra groceries or anything else he thought they needed.
     Through my Daddy's examples and life lessons on self reliance and inner strength, I have conquered many task and situations that would back the average lady down. The words, " you can't " mean nothing and it is through that strength in me that I have accomplished so many things that others would balk at. To smile as I do it gives even more strength coupled with the knowledge that I am most likely causing nail biting by those involved.  The "Parker" in us as we affectionately refer to it, rises up more than I like and sometimes I am able to overcome it, and sometimes I enjoy it. For those of you who have been forced to deal with me during those moments I would say now that I'm sorry, but I know I probably wasn't at the time. I thank the Lord that He is a in me and that He takes all of who I am and makes what you see and enjoy today. Even this week in aggravation over not getting my simple way, the temptation to retaliate had to be dealt with, and my Lord knows how to break me and thankfully doesn't give up on me. 
     I owe to both my parents my ability to see the good in everything and to keep going no matter what.  I am who I am through both of them and most importantly through my strength and faith in my Heavenly Father and all that He can do.
     Did the strength and care for others developed on both sides ever work to my favor ??  Oh yes !! Now as promised, a praying Mother, a red headed uncle and a young lady will give you a good dose of laughter, good for at least 1440 minutes.
     It was a cold Winter morning in my pre teen years that I noticed our wood supply was getting precariously low.  Knowing this was our primary means of heat, I quickly informed my Mother as to what I perceived to be quite a problem. With one brother away in the military and the others at work, Mother began to assess what her options were. Daddy was living at home with us, but this need,  like so many others during that time in my life, took a backseat to one of his many projects, time with his friends, or his foe of alcohol.  Mother who suffered from gout arthritis in her extremities,  was very limited in contributing any physical strength that would replenish our wood supply. Mother attentively listened to my repeated concerns and reassured me that after lunch, she would go to the living room to pray.  Mothers praying was her only and best solution as her strong faith would once again result in our needs being met. When Mother prayed she never failed to follow her prayers with praise. I knew as regular as clockwork when God answered Mothers prayers as you could hear her crying and shouting from any spot in our home or the close yard.  In her words, " There's no sense in asking the Lord for something, if you're not willing to thank Him when He answers". Mother never stopped praying til she knew the Lord had heard her prayer. Time and time again she became frustrated with my praise, given freely, when  I physically saw my prayers answered. She would often ask, " Why don't you just go ahead and praise Him when He says He's gonna take care of something? Why do you have to wait til He does it?" 
     Following her time with our Lord, she returned to the dining room where I was entertaining myself with coloring books and crayons.  She reassured me one more time the answer was on the way. To this day I remember her exact words as they later caused me to get in much trouble. " Now Sandra", she said, " You just color and don't worry about that wood, we're gonna have all we need, if  He has to use a drunk has to bring it"
     Much to Mother's displeasure, but oh so typical of me and my impulsive mouth, I excitedly repeated Mother's exact words as within the hour I opened the screen door to my then red headed Uncle Wash,,,," Mama, Mama, God answered your prayers, the drunk is here with the wood".... Both he and Mother cracked a smile and I later learned a lifetime lesson in why you don't repeat everything you hear....
                                                                                  Epilogue
As a middle aged woman, my relationship with my favorite Uncle Wash grew beyond close. On a warm Spring afternoon during our daily visits, we discussed the day the drunk brought the wood.... You see between my childhood and my adulthood, the precious Holy Spirit moved the blinders that Satan had on my Uncle Wash. Blinders which covered many years, and created fears of  him being too lost, too far gone,, and too mean to save. The result for both of us was a better life, and  a bond that likened itself to that of me and my Daddy. We laughed as he shared the memory of this day. As it happened to him,  Uncle Wash was watching the Noon News and immediately thereafter got a phone call that a large oak had fallen across the driveway of a friend. This friend lived about three miles from us and  he had no need of the wood, just  a clear driveway. Uncle Wash stated that on the way up the road it came to him, to bring the wood to us. We laughed together at my impulsiveness that day and thanked the Lord for His love, grace and the ability to meet our needs. We thanked the Lord for Mothers that rely completely on God.  Most importantly,  we thanked the Lord for changing the life of not only my Daddy, but of my precious Uncle Wash , and that of a young girl that had many lessons to learn on the joy found in Strength.

       

    
    
     Several years ago while our home church was going through difficult days , it seemed that as a Christian, I was growing weaker and weaker. Typical for me, I went to my oldest sister and questioned her as to what could be causing my weakness. The answer she gave was surprisingly simple, I had lost my joy. The latter part of Nehemiah 8:10 states that the joy of the Lord is your strength. Even King David in his prayers of confession and forgiveness in Psalm 51 asked our Lord to restore the joy of thy salvation.
     When we lose our joy, we lose our strength. This truth about joy applies to any area of our life whether you are the salesperson who has lost their edge, or the Mother who has lost joy in the honor of taking care of her children.  Tell me Mothers don't get there and I will  strongly disagree. I have been there several times along the journey.
     Years ago with a 16 month old daughter, a 4 year old daughter, a 7 year old son and a 9 year old daughter I arrived at the local tent meeting.  Courteously excusing myself into an aisle of elderly ladies. I overheard one lady sweetly state, " She's so blessed". I continued on, getting settled without acknowledgement of her statement which was about me, not to me.  After about an hour I had a crying baby,  a pouted up preschooler, and 2 bickering older children. Leading my four back out of the aisle and completely out of the meeting I paused only to say, " Excuse me while I go whip my blessings".. They did not get a whipping but I'm sure they were disciplined and that poor lady as well as her friends eagerly stood up to let me pass when I came back.  I had never stopped being their Mother but for that space of time, I had lost my joy.    Take a look at yourself. Are you serving joyfully or just serving?  Are you living with joy or just living ? It is always an option to live and serve with joy and the true beauty is that we can make a choice. today we were given 1440 minutes to do it in.. Where is your joy ? He can and will restore it if you ask.....
     For those reading and seeking humor, yes it is here as promised but it is from a previous meeting with a life changing memory.
     With a ten month old daughter, a 4 year old son and a 6 year old daughter, I made my annual trip to the Land of the Sky Jubilee in Asheville N.C.  Dressed, as I have since been told by my oldest daughter, as a walking valentine, in my bright red dress trimmed in white and my then infamous red spelletto heels, I was a happy lady.  Feeling quite accomplished for arriving early, I opted to place my son for the first and last time ever in a church provided nursery, giving his little hand over to a young energetic girl.   Following a great service, the problems began. Headed to the nursery which was one floor down,  I landed in a heap of disarray and bruises, after catching my heel in the rug at the top of the stairs, and tumbling down the entire flight, with my baby still in my arms. Melissa tearfully insisted on going for help while I profusely threatened her, not wanting anyone to see me, much less try to help me up.  Now upright with a half broke shoe, I was on to the nursery.  Stopping at the 1/2 door leading into the nursery and looking as motherly and compiled as possible I realized that the young lady I had left Trae with had been replaced by an older lady that took her job way too serious. Putting on my church smile,  I stated how much I appreciated the service they provided and informed that I was here to pick up my son Trae. The older lady gave me a strong look and informed me that I would not be picking up anyone by the name of Trae as they did not even have a child by that name. Thinking I may have for some unusual reason, given him to the young girl by his legal name, I requested him by that name. This request seemingly made me look worse as his legal name is nothing close to Trae. The aged lady asked me to step back and informed me that I would not be allowed to enter the nursery as she sent for additional staff.  Within what was an eternity of minutes I saw Trae walking behind her in the hallway.  Relieved that he was alive and present I explained to her that he was my son.  Trae happy to be playing, kept walking, never looked my way. Only after  all the other males were picked up and the young girl reappeared to verify that he was mine, was Trae allowed to leave. Melissa having endured as much stress as a 6 year old could, leaned over to give Trae a hug. It was then she discovered the cause of the mass confusion. "Mama look, his name badge doesn't say Trae". Kneeling to regroup I read on my 4year old sons chest,  the name  "Frank" in bold blue letters. "  Son, why in the world does this say Frank ?"  With 4 year old innocence he replied, " The lady asked me what I wanted to be called and I've always liked that name". Never again in 30 years of countless church services,  youth rallies, revivals, camp meetings, jubilees or conferences have I ever used a nursery. As for Frank, God graciously called him to preach.  Sitting with him last year at the land of the Sky Jubilee and thinking of the scripture that states you reap what you sow, I slyly suggested his sons might enjoy the nursery. I was given an adamant  "No" and a smile.Thank you Lord  "There is joy for the journey"