Sunday, December 17, 2017
 

Archive for December, 2006

Old-Time Mothers

Dear Mothers,

Yesterday as I got back from the store and I pulled into the driveway, I saw our neighbor pulling in. John is a young father of three children under 5 and a precious wife Molly. “I bet the children are all excited about Christmas,” I yelled to him across the driveway. “Are you all staying home for Christmas?” And John, tall and so handsome, told me that his family would go back to Texas. “Well, actually they will stay in Texas as I have been called back to Iraq. I was there once but I am being called back.” We talked a bit and I told him about Jimmy, our son. I wondered if Jimmy would be called back, even though he is 40 years old. John told me that he was 30. I told John, “I will pray for you. You can count on it, John. I will pray.”

I walked back into the house and I thought of the Depression era Mothers. How many times did these old time Moms hear a conversation like this I had just had during 1940 when World War II broke out? They were just coming through the Depression. What must they have thought? Losing their sons to war. Will our government have the draft again? Maybe so… kinda looks like they might. But ya know the old time Mothers seemed to know how to handle this. They had a confidence, it seems, that I only understand when I write. I mean these women seemed to hunker down and pulled deep from their resources as women. Not even especially women of God. They seemed to know how to catch ahold of their emotions and walked out a faith in themselves as mother, wife, and homemaker. Of course, they were brought up that way. I mean you had supper on the table in the evening, even if everyone had died except you and your dog.

There was a religious order in the family no matter what. I mean even if you didn’t know the Lord. But now days we are seemingly sky high and our feet don’t seem to hit the floor. Our Home order is off. It used to be when Mother was upset, she would iron or make bread. Or she would do the dishes, hoping there was dishes to do. When we would go to Dixie’s and she would give us coffee and pie, Jill and I would get up to leave and would want to wash the dishes before we left. I remember Dixie saying, “No, don’t do the dishes — it will give me something to do.”

When the old time Moms were upset, they scrubbed the floor… they tried to stay busy. They didn’t get busy to make the house look pretty. They got busy to stay sane. Jill has often told me that she decorates the house, etc. for therapy. She says that if she gets a space of time that she can be alone, she gets so excited to do her homemaking. And she decorates with anything. But it is her gift and once she gets started, she can’t quit. But I do believe this is how the old time Mothers made it through. And they did make it through or we wouldn’t be standing here today.

But when Mother knew hard times were coming, she counted her losses and her blessings. She somehow knew to be quiet and to make her home strong. She would make a pot of tea and sit down in her kitchen chair and quietly figure out what she should do. Most women didn’t go get a job. I mean if the husband was working, then she made do on his wages, one way or the other. And Mother, of course, put her own family first.

Even the women who didn’t know the Lord as Savior had the knowledge to put family first. The Mothers of faith had started our country. So many Mothers in my neighborhood at home had a godly pattern of life, even though they didn’t know the Lord. Because back in their family some place, a godly mother made the rules. The Mother is lawmaker of the family. Forsake not the law of thy Mother. This means a godly mother. We are to honor an ungodly mother but we are not called to obey her. But ya know now, thanks to feminism, we as mothers seem to be lost and forsaken. And right how we need so much to walk in order.

White Trash

And ya know it seems feminism hit right when it would do the most damage. It’s like fear and disorder took over in the home and now our country is in so much trouble. We are scattered with fear and confusion. Satan has caused anxiety and disorder in the home so that folks will be easier to capture when the ax falls. This is why the black slaves were so easy to handle as their families were so often upset and the father was taken or the mother of the family. They couldn’t get a handle on a strong home life. They were never allowed to own land or to develop any independent skills for daily survival. When they were set free after the Civil War, they didn’t know what they were free to do. Still the landowners made them rent land and the blacks gave them most of the profit they made off the cotton they sold. And so many of us are living like that now.

Folks in the old days would live in a shack or a chicken coop until things got easier. Mother cleaned it and made a decent place to live. Folks did what they could to survive and the heck with what others thought. See, now days the landlords are owning so many of you. You have to pay half of your paycheck for rent. You won’t rent a cheap apartment and clean it up and bide your time until things get better. It’s that you are paying for a lifestyle and not a life. You are being owned and you don’t know it. But materialism has caught you and won’t let you go. It’s like if the world says you are OK, then, “By Golly, you are OK!” The old time folks would have seen the handwriting on the wall and not paid the high rent but put their money into a place of their own.

But the American system is oppressing us to the bone. We are like bugs banging into lightbulbs that already have a 100 bugs dead in the lampshade. Hello? We have to back up and STOP letting Satan oppress us and go by his rules. We can’t do it, anyway. Some of us are between a rock and hard place. We keep running into the same old wall. And God knows we don’t have the strength to tear it down with our hands. We have to back up to God and fall into His arms. We need to sit down and count the cost.

We are wives and mothers, keepers at home. Our grandmothers and great-grandmothers made it through worse then this before. They went through the Depression; some lost their farms. They went through wars and sadness as we will have to face, too. But Mother didn’t give up and she carried on and we are her daughters and great-granddaughters. My home is over 100 years old. I bet some brave women lived here. I pray I am one of them.

All is Well

We do, in reality, face trouble on every side. Dear Wives and Mothers, I hear ya. And, yes, we depend upon God but also we must depend upon the wisdom of God.

Ruby is a voice from within. She is instinct. She is our strength as we walk as keepers at home. The Bible in Proverbs says that wisdom has a voice and we must hear her. She is the virtuous woman who looks well to the ways of her household. She is rare. You won’t find her in flocks of women. Her husband’s heart trusts in her. She does her husband good and not evil all the days of her life. She seeks work to do and she works with willing hands. She does not hear the voice of feminism but she hears the voice of wisdom. I heard her voice this morning calling me back to my home and my place as Keeper at Home.

All of Ruby’s children are taught of the Lord and great is their peace. Ruby is not afraid of the terror by night or the arrow that flyeth by day. Ruby knows the angels are there with her and under His wings she trusts. Every wise woman builds her home and the foolish tear it down with her hands. Contentment and harmony reign in Ruby’s home as she has put her trust in the Lord.

And the great cloud of witnesses cheer us on. Mothers of the past who see us from heaven cheer us on, knowing that we can make it. Just as they did, we can make it, too.

Love,
Connie

Merry Christmas

Dear Mothers at Home,

This is a sad time for me over this Holiday time. I wish I could write about Christmas Cookies and Sweet Dough Christmas Breads. But you probably won’t get that outta me this year. But I know there are plenty of good sites to go to that will encourage you in your homemaking. Last night, as Annie and I talked on the phone, I said, “Annie, I think the party is over. I may never write again.” Of course, Annie laughed! I always laugh when she tells me anything devastating. But, seriously, can you all send in some writings for the group? If I did quit writing now, at least I have left the world with a few thousand writings. I have written many books of stories.

Ya know one thing the Lord told me in prayer last night was this. “Satan isn’t after YOU, Connie, he is after your anointing… your gift of writing.” Satan isn’t worried about our flesh but he is always after the Christ within us. He tried to kill Jesus as a baby. Mary had to hide Him to raise Him. And then He ministered for 3 years and then was hung upon a cross and He died. He was a man who was tormented by the devil and was acquainted with grief. He comes for us who are broken in heart. Some of you wonder how I ever made it through 12 years of a horrid marriage. I made it like I am right now with Mary. The hard way? I was human then as I am now. And I suffered it through like I am suffering with Mary. So many around me want me to shut me up as they did the poor that ran after Jesus. “Don’t bother the Master,” they tell me. But Jesus came for us who are desperate to have His touch.

As I stand here writing, I think of what I was thinking and praying about a few days ago. I made myself laugh. This is my life in essence. “I was caught in a tornado and all died around me but I alone escaped to tell you.” Then “I was in a fire that burned up everyone in it but I alone escaped to tell you.” And everyone I was with on the mountaintop fell off but I alone was saved to tell you “God rescued me.” I seem to stand… somehow God keeps me.

I am the type of Christian that gets dropped from an airplane and I land on my feet and hit the road running. Or hit the road testifying. I can’t stop testifying! I know when I am makin’ Satan so mad he wets his pants. But I can’t quit — it’s too much dang fun. It’s like a high to me to make Satan mad. It’s like takin’ off in a jet. It’s an adventure! And we do overcome Satan by the Word of our testimony, the blood of the Lamb, and that we don’t love our lives unto death. But Satan ain’t worried about those who are only religious but have no convictions. Those who have the fire of God upon them are the ones he worries about constantly and he accuses them to the Father day and night.

But ya know Dixie was so anointed. She saw angels and Wisdom. She would see Jesus walk through the house. She knew the world of the Spirit. Emily would go for walks with angels in the evening down their country road. Emily was taught the things of the Spirit. But Dixie told me, “Connie, you can learn things in the Spirit and use them for sin and play with God.” She said God hates that and not to do it. Dixie had another sense called “Faith.” She could still see into the spirit realm, even though she wasn’t walking with God. But, boy, I am tellin’ you what. I know I am in danger of losing my anointing, too. I mean such as it is. I am not as anointed as Dixie or Jill was but I know I have some form of it.

There is such a peace and a covering in my home. I sleep like a log at night without any meds. There is a peace in my home that is so sweet. Jesus is here with me. Oh, He moves too slow (my opinion) and my heart breaks for Mary. But ya know what? It’s like if you were shipwrecked and you were hanging onto a piece of the ship in the water. You have the grace to hang onto the ship’s broken piece. But you get impatient and want to give up. “It’s taking too long, Lord.” But what’s the alternative? You have to hang on or drown. We hate the word “Wait.” But that is our salvation. We have to wait upon the Lord. We have to encourage ourselves in Him and hang on. And if we don’t give up, we see His glory.

I am so aware that, as I write, the Lord speaks to me. But getting me here to write is hard. I don’t want to write — I want to cry and scream at God. “Can’t you hear me? I am drowning! Where is my baby… the one I raised for You, God?” So I come to this e-machine and I lay my hands upon the keys and I write as the Spirit guides me. I am surprised at what I write. Surprised that I can still stand here. I have lost my husband to death and my daughter. How can I stand here and write? It is His grace. His anointing. He is the piece of broken ship I hang onto. And as I hold it, as lowly as it is, He makes my world go round. I am the widow with the bit of oil and meal.

Mary Elisabeth just called me. Thank God! We had a conversation. She said she is coming for Christmas to my Mom’s. She was at the trailer court but I had the wrong one. But I told her I wanted to send her a Christmas card and she gave me the address. And I have her phone number. Thank God! I told her she needed help and she said she knew it. She didn’t want to talk long, but we did talk, and I know she is alright sort of speak.

It’s a long haul. But I have to hang on to the anointing. It’s all I have. It’s all you all have. You who have Jesus have His anointing. He is the anointed Christ. Hang onto Him. Don’t let go and you will see His glory.

Love,
Connie

 
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