God’s Timing

“Abraham was 100 years old when his son Isaac was born to him.” (Genesis 21:5)

When specific verses of the Bible seem to jump off the page, I feel like God wants me to pay attention. It’s almost as if He is speaking to me directly. Genesis 21:5 can be taken two ways. On  the surface, Abraham waited a long time for his wife to give birth to their promised child. On a deeper level, Abraham lived long enough to see God’s purpose for his life become reality.

Some people think once we reach our retirement years, our best days are behind us. I retired from teaching at age 60 and published my first book at 66. I’m a firm believer God’s timing is never too late! But sometimes our creative projects remain on the back burner for years.

I’ve had a picture book idea, Manatee School, in various stages of development for ten years. I’d bring the manuscript out—toss around the words, and make more revisions than I can count. In 2015 I pitched Manatee School to several editors, only to be turned down because they were looking for other genres. Eventually I rewrote the rhyming picture book into a Clubhouse Junior Magazine nonfiction article, Counting Manatees. Last year I entered my Manatee School  picture book manuscript in the 2023 Florida Tapestry Awards and won honorable mention.

Since then, the idea of publishing another book filled me with dread. I did not want to experience any more rejections, nor did I want the stress which accompanies launching another book.  That was until God spoke to me through Abraham’s story.

Abraham was 100 years old when his son Isaac was born. Biblical research shares that the “waiting” period was necessary to test Abraham’s and Sarah’s faith. When Abraham was 75, God promised him that his descendants would be a great nation. At that time Sarah was in her sixties and barren. She was well beyond child-bearing age, and laughed at the thought of being a mother.

After ten more years of waiting, Sarah decided to speed up God’s timing by making her own plan. She encouraged Abraham to sleep with her Egyptian servant, Haggai, who conceived Ishmael. But Ishmael was not the child God had promised Abraham.

When Sarah rushed ahead with her own plans, God could see the couple’s faith had not grown enough to warrant His miracle child, the one to be the carrier of the covenant. So He added another fifteen years to Sarah’s barrenness. God did not doubt himself or his promise. He knew His words would come to pass in His timing. “For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.” Romans 11:29 (NASB)

God had a timeline which involved Abraham and Sarah fully trusting in Him rather than relying on human possibilities. Their faith is noted in Hebrews 11:12, “And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore.” God wants everyone to know He is still in the miracle working business!

God sees the big picture of my life, and Manatee School is my promised child.  Like Abraham and Sarah, I have experienced a delay. Perhaps God is waiting for me to be more faithful to the work. Maybe He wants me to add something to the story to make it more relatable to children. The day after I read about Abraham and Sarah, I wrote new characters (a child and her grandfather) into the plot. I have a feeling God has not “closed the book” regarding the publication of Manatee School. Remembering Abraham helps me trust God’s timing.

If you are in the waiting stage of finishing a creative work, don’t lose sight of the finish line. Pray and ask God if you need to make any changes. Trust Him to give you the ideas and discipline you need to bring your project to fulfillment.

I’m an Old Dog

Here I lie, in the bed I’ve made

Sunken from many naps

I chase squirrels in my dreams

And remember romps through the park with my master.

I’ve slowed down

My face, now gray with age,

My eyes are dim, and my hearing slight

But my heart is tuned to my family,

Who have met my needs these many years.

Our story began years ago

When my humans appeared at the beagle rescue…

We connected.

I think they were looking for someone like me.

Together we visit outdoor markets

Where delightful smells fill the air

And strangers love to rub my ears

Somehow everyone knows my name…

Buddy the Beagle on Blueberry Street.

When Progress Takes a Step Backwards

Recently I celebrated a milestone birthday which marked the arrival of my seventh decade. Funny, I don’t feel old until the anniversary of some major historical event rolls around. Then I think, “Oh my, I was alive when that happened.” It’s frightening to realize the United States will be 250 years old in 2026. I clearly remember the bi-centennial. (For those of you who don’t, it happened in 1976.)

I’ve seen a lot of changes during the past seven decades. Texting and social media have made it possible to communicate with others in an instant. Many of these advancements have changed the fabric of our culture. Sometimes I wonder if we have become just as impersonal as the technology we’ve invented. Why is it we’re more connected than ever, but lonelier? We fool ourselves into thinking we have relationships, but are those relationships real?

Real friendships are formed by sharing life together, visiting each other at home, and having face to face conversations. Seeing someone in their home speaks volumes about their hobbies and interests. Sharing a meal allows meaningful conversation. Cooking for someone says, “I care about you.” A facebook photo of a plate of delicious food can’t compare with in-person fellowship. It just makes me miss having a seat at the table.

Social media posts do not allow for details. There’s usually much more to our travel experiences than what we share with a few photographs. When we meet someone over coffee we can ask questions and get the rest of the story.

If I see a facebook post about the death of a friend’s loved one, I usually comment with my condolences. Rarely do I send a handwritten note or letter. There are certain situations which demand a personal response from me. This means giving my time to show I really care. It also requires knowing someone’s physical address!

In many ways we are less mature than our parents and grandparents. Some topics should not be discussed through texting. For example, resolving conflict. When we have a rift with a friend, it’s better to calmly discuss our feelings face to face. Meeting with someone in person sends a message of “you’re feelings are important to me,” which can work wonders when there is a disagreement. Friendships can be saved this way.

As I age I’m discovering the value of real relationships. Ten years from now I might look at this post and laugh because artificial intelligence will be communicating for me. I hope not. I want to be real, human, and personal. Sometimes the old-fashioned ways of doing things are just better.

What is your opinion of the advancements in communication during the past thirty years?

A Poem for Non-Runners

I don’t run.

Nowhere to go.

Why should I hurry?

I want to know.

I don’t run.

Don’t want to sweat.

And if it rains,

I might get wet.

I don’t run.

Like many do.

Who says running is good for you?

Tendonitus

Causes pain

Shin splints, muscle pulls, ankle sprains.

I don’t run.

Since I’ve heard

Scientists say we should conserve.

Yes, my body,

Like a car

Loses its value when driven far.

Last summer Herb and I visited Pike’s Peak. Our guide took this photo of us pretending to run from Big Foot. I doubt if I could outrun Big Foot because I don’t run.

On the other hand, Herb is a runner. He’s competed in four marathons and done well for his age. He finished his last marathon at 65, and trains regularly.

I used to feel guilty about not running.

Dirty Harry said, “a man’s got to know his limitations.”

I’ve accepted mine. Running is not my thing. There’s joy in accepting yourself for who you are. I like my age. As a senior citizen, I think I’ve earned the right to say no to anything I don’t want to do.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in staying active, choosing instead to walk or bike. We all know exercise is important, and I’m glad for alternatives. In the meantime, I ‘ll keep looking over my shoulder to see if Big Foot is closing in on me.

Thanks for reading my blog. If you like poetry, check out some of my more serious poems by clicking on the menu bar and selecting my poetry page. More poems and the stories behind them can be found under Categories in the sidebar. Remember, to like, follow, and share!

Always Be Celebrating

Last week I received a beautiful card in the mail for my birthday. The sender recognized my affinity for nature and knew my favorite colors. The card meant a lot to me. Each year, as my birthday draws nearer, I tend to reminisce a little about past birthdays.

When I was a child I didn’t like the fact that I was born in June. Usually school was out for the summer.  My school friends were often away on vacation. Sometimes my family would be on vacation as well. Even so, one birthday memory stands out from all the rest.

My tenth birthday was celebrated at a campground in the Smoky Mountains. As a family, we  were busy living the camp life and I thought my birthday would be ignored. Boy was I surprised when out of nowhere my mom presented me with a cake. We were miles from a store or a bakery, and she had no oven in our little trailer.

Children always look forward to their birthdays with excitement. They feel as they grow older, each year brings new freedoms. Their parents might consider them old enough to care for a pet, date, drive, or eventually move out.

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All of us keep birthday traditions. Our celebrations include a cake with candles, the song, “Happy Birthday,” and making a secret wish before blowing out the candles. If we don’t blow out all the candles with one breath, our wish will not come true.

But how many of us remember all the wishes we’ve made? I guess if we did, we wouldn’t tell anyone about it. After all they were all secret wishes.

As the years roll on.. birthdays are no longer a rite of passage. And by the time we enter our retirement years we would rather slow life down instead of speeding it up.

Women especially, go through a lot of inner turmoil about growing older. We experience a season of not wanting anyone to know our age. When I hit sixty I didn’t care anymore. On good days I feel proud that I can still do many of the things I’ve always done. At other times I use my age as a reason to excuse myself from activities I’d rather not do. I no longer feel a burning desire to spend a whole day at a theme park.

Last year I wrote a poem about turning 64, entitled…

“Wishful Thinking”

hot pink candles

drip wax on swirls of chocolate frosting

everyone smiles as

the usual off key voices

sing the last note of the classic melody

panic stricken

what to wish?

For an encore allowing more time to think?

Or perhaps more years to live?

I inhale until the pressure forces me

to let go

 

 

What do birthdays mean to you? Do you have a special birthday memory? Leave a comment. You might be interested in two other age related posts: Now I’m Sixty-Four and Redefining Age With Valerie Ramsey.