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Lois Flowers

Share Four Somethings: April 2023

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside: Three helpful talks about anxiety, a day of mother-daughter feels, the quest for bifocal contacts, and a Christmas cactus that finally bloomed. ~

Last week, I went to our local Fed-Ex office to mail my daughter Lilly’s visa application for her upcoming semester abroad. Later that afternoon, Molly and I met with her best friend and her mother to plan the girls’ high-school grad party.

This also happened to be the day my own mom died, four years earlier.

Plenty of mother-daughter feels, for sure.

I’m excited for my girls. I also miss my mom.

It’s the circle of life, one that countless daughters who are also mothers have experienced.

Visiting my mom at the nursing home on Easter in 2018.

My mom was always happy to see me. And I’m always happy to see my daughters.

Perhaps that’s why, despite some wonky days along the way, I’ve been feeling abundantly grateful in April. It’s gone by in a flash, as the months seem to be doing with increasing urgency these days.

Which means it’s time to link up with Jennifer for another Share Four Somethings, starting with …

Something Loved

My Christmas cactus hasn’t bloomed for several years. Most recently, because it wasn’t in direct sunlight. It grew plenty of leaves, but no flowers.

It used to be such a prolific bloomer, which made its ongoing lack of buds even more discouraging.

A few months ago, I moved the plant back to its original home by our southern-facing wall of floor-length windows. I figured I’d have to wait until next winter for results, so you can imagine my surprise when it produced a single flower, right before Easter.

I was overjoyed, to put it mildly. I took pictures (see top of post) and sent texts about it.

Who knew a single bloom could produce such a reaction? (Besides my family, of course.)

Something Read

In recent months, I’ve been on a quest for bifocal contacts. My optometrist fitted me for one type, then another. Apparently, I’m quite persnickety about my vision, because neither worked for me.

Finally, we decided to try using my regular prescription for my dominant eye and a contact with a reading-vision overlay for the other eye.

According to my doctor, about half the population can adjust to this kind of correction and the other half can’t. Given my previous failed attempts, I was certain I would fall into the latter category.

I mentally prepared myself to accept a future of putting on and taking off reading glasses constantly. (Just the thought of eye surgery gives me the heebie-jeebies, in case you were wondering about that.)

I went to the eye doctor for one last fitting. Lo and behold, the contacts worked. Not perfectly, but well enough.

I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t a bifocal contacts failure after all.

Since then, looking at small words has taken on whole new level of enjoyment. I can read restaurant menus. The amount of sodium in a can of cream of mushroom soup. My daughter’s phone when she shows me a funny meme. The notes I’m taking in church. Recipe books with tiny ingredient lists.

I can glance down and actually see what I’m looking at, without flapping around for my reading glasses. I had no idea I was missing so much.

Something Learned

The desire for life to have a fast-forward button may never go away. But that doesn’t mean we’re doomed to anxiety over the what-ifs or frustration when we can’t see what’s ahead.

Rather, we have a wonderful, ongoing opportunity to take deep breaths, to cast our cares upon Jesus, to try to trust Him moment by moment.

This is a big part of what it means to walk by faith. I don’t know about you, but it’s also a shift I need to make over and over again.

I don’t always like it. I’d rather be able to stand still and enjoy a quiet season or run like the wind, straight into a glorious, predictable future.

But God knows what I need. He knows what you need. And He will see us through.

Something Heard

Speaking of anxiety, Louie Giglio recently preached a short series on the topic that was so good I listened to it twice. You can find it on the Passion City Church Podcast on Spotify, as well as on the church’s website.

I could share quotes, but I hope simply providing links to Giglio’s three talks from “Putting an X through Anxiety” will prompt you to check out the series. (If you do, let me know what you think.) Here they are:

• Breathing Out the Weight of Depression

• Finding Up When Anxiety Weighs You Down

• The Best Thing to do with Your Anxiety

• • •

And now for my favorite part of these monthly posts—hearing from you. How has your April been? Please let us know what you’ve been reading, learning or loving lately.

♥ Lois

The desire for life to have a fast-forward button may never go away. But that doesn’t mean we're doomed to anxiety over the what-ifs or frustration when we can’t see what’s ahead. Share on X God knows what I need. He knows what you need. And He will see us through. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with sharefoursomethings, #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

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How Stirring the Pot Helps Us Grieve Well

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside: A helpful metaphor that shows how important it is to speak our grief—to sort through our memories and feelings out loud in the presence of compassionate listeners. ~

The week after Christmas, five of my family’s seven siblings were in town. This was the first time since our parents’ funerals in 2019 that this many of us were this close to where we all grew up.

We had a couple of big dinners at my home—Asian night, to honor our family members of that ethnicity, and Italian night, to remember the legacy of good cooking that our mom passed down to us.

Getting Ready

The day before our Italian supper, I made a big pot of my mom’s spaghetti sauce, along with her amazing meatball recipe, and put it in the fridge until it was needed.

When reheating a big pot of sauce, you have to keep it on the stove long enough to warm it through, but not at such a high temperature that it gets overcooked. The problem was, we’d recently gotten a new range and I wasn’t familiar with how each of the burners worked.

I also didn’t stir the sauce nearly enough as I should have.

Oops

In the process of warming up the pot, the sauce on the bottom scorched badly. Thankfully, it was still edible, despite the slightly acrid taste that permeated most of it.

The pot, however, was another story. After soaking it overnight and boiling a mixture of vinegar and baking soda in it, I expended significant amounts of time and energy chipping chunks and layers of burned sauce off the bottom.

I finally got it clean. I also learned my lesson.

Stirring the Pot

The next time I made sauce, I turned the stove to the lowest setting and stirred the pot every 20 minutes for three hours.

When I emptied the sauce into a slow cooker so Molly could take it to school for a robotics team dinner, the bottom of my stock pot was sparkling silver. There wasn’t a speck of burned material anywhere.

Turns out, stirring the pot makes all the difference.

And not just when it comes to cooking.

Poignant Metaphor

The poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said, “There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.”

He was right, I think.

When we do the opposite—talk or perhaps write about loved ones we have lost—it’s like stirring a pot of sauce simmering on the stove. Sorting through our heavier memories and feelings out loud keeps all the bits and pieces from sinking to the bottom and scorching the pot, metaphorically.

Speaking Grief

Letting the “grief speak,” to borrow Longfellow’s language, allows us to incorporate our thoughts into a somewhat-cohesive mental stew. This can happen many places: over coffee with friends, in the comfort of our own living rooms, in a counselor’s office or at a grief support group.

It doesn’t change what happened, but it helps us process it in a healthy way.

My parents often come up in normal conversation with my husband and daughters. Nothing is off limits, from strengths and weaknesses to endearing traits and idiosyncrasies. We share what we miss about them, tell jokes my dad would have enjoyed, mention if they would have loved this song or that event. (My friend Linda describes this practice well here.)

A Better View

We don’t view my mom and dad through rose-colored glasses. But our lenses are tinged with the realization that what might irritate us when our loved ones are with us pales in comparison with how much we miss them when they’re gone.

April 19 marks the four-year anniversary my mom’s heavenly homegoing. A valuable part of my grief journey has been writing about losing her (and my dad, five weeks later). I appreciate all of you who have read along—the whole time or perhaps just recently—with compassion and understanding.

You’ve helped me stir the pot, and I’m so thankful.

If you’ve lost a loved one—recently or long ago—and would like someone to remember that person with you, please share in the comments. Speak your grief, and we will be blessed to listen.

♥ Lois

When we talk about loved ones we have lost, it’s like stirring a pot of sauce simmering on the stove. Share on X Sorting through our heavier memories and feelings out loud keeps all the bits and pieces from sinking to the bottom and scorching the pot, metaphorically. Share on X 'There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.' ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with One Word 2023,  #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

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As Grief Softens, This Familiar Truth Brings Greater Comfort

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside: Over time, the truth that our loved ones are with Jesus can sink more deeply into our hearts and bring fresh comfort, even during seasons of greater grief and remembrance. ~

It’s been almost four years since my parents went home to heaven. I’ve had plenty of time to process, to write, to talk at length about what happened.

At times, though, I still can’t believe it. It all happened so fast. In my mind, I was so young.

Age is Relative

Forty-eight, which is how old I was when my parents died, seems ancient to my young adult daughters.

But I had never lost a close loved one before. While I’d supported and prayed for friends traveling the dark road of grief, I had not trudged down it myself.

The two people who knew and loved me my entire life, who lived nearby for their last 13 years, were gone. Within five weeks of each other, after an intense season of decline.

Just Being Human

I’ve heard people talk about their desires for their aging or terminally ill parents to live longer—or for their mom or dad to want to do everything possible to stay alive—as if those desires had been selfish.

I think they’re being too hard on themselves. Those desires aren’t selfish; they’re human.

People who have more life experience, endured more sorrow or had parents who suffered greatly before they died might have other—perhaps wiser or kinder—perspectives about trying to keep people alive as long as possible.

I Get That

The long walk home is different for everyone, and for everyone’s loved ones.

In hindsight, having read more about mortality and end-of-life issues, I understand a few things now that I couldn’t comprehend before.

Blessing in Disguise

Given what’s happened in the world the last three years, I also see now that it was a sad kind of blessing that my parents died in 2019. Before 2020 and all that followed.

If they had survived the Covid pandemic while living in a nursing home, my mom would be turning 91 in May, my dad 90. Realistically, Covid or not, there’s a good chance they wouldn’t have lived that long anyway.

Comfort for the Heart

My logical mind finds solace in these thoughts. Lately, though, another thought has been comforting my heart. It’s been there all along, but for some reason, it’s speaking louder than it was before.

It’s the biblical truth that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. According to 2 Corinthians 5:8, the later actually was the Apostle Paul’s preference.

“We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body and to be present with the Lord.” (KJV, emphasis mine)

Who Knows?

While thick books have been written about heaven, we don’t know much about what it’s really like. The Bible offers imagery and bits of commentary here and there. Theologians over the years have offered their best guesses about what it all means.

But I don’t think our human minds can even begin to imagine it.

Perhaps you’ve heard, as I have, comments about loved ones looking down on us or being reunited with each other in heaven when they die. Those are nice ideas, but again, we can’t really know for sure whether they represent present reality.

One Sure Thing

What we can be certain of is what 2 Corinthians 5:8 makes clear: that when a believer dies, his body stays in the ground and his soul enters God’s presence.

He is, as the NIV puts it, “Away from the body and at home with the Lord” (emphasis mine).

When we lose a loved one, it’s normal and natural to focus on what we’ve lost. I miss my parents more than I can say, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

Finally Home

But these days, the thought that two of the people I always felt most at home with are “at home with the Lord” is tempering my sadness with joy in a fresh, new way.

I have no idea what a soul looks or acts like. I wonder how all those saints that have gone before us fit in heaven. I’m curious about whether they can see each other or sense each other’s presence.

However it all works, my parents—and your believing loved ones who have died—are with Jesus. Somehow, their souls are in the presence of the Alpha and Omega, the wonderful Counselor, the Savior of the world, the Great I Am, the Good Shepherd, the Prince of Peace, the Ancient of Days.

Unimaginable

Can you even imagine such a breathtaking experience?

I can’t, that’s for sure. I just know this:

Whatever it looks like, sounds like or feels like, it’s better than here.

Not only better, better by far. (Philippians 1:23, NIV, emphasis added)

♥ Lois

The long walk home is different for everyone, and for everyone’s loved ones. Share on X The souls of our departed loved ones are in the presence of the Alpha and Omega, the Great I Am, the Good Shepherd, the Prince of Peace, the Ancient of Days. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

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Timely Encouragement from the Book of Daniel

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside: God’s sovereign control over human history was on full display when Jesus was crucified 2,000 years ago. It remains a comforting truth for us today as we think about Easter and as we look ahead to future events in our country and world. ~

I ended March by completing the Book of Daniel in my Bible-reading plan.

I’ve read it numerous times over the years. This time, though, I went slowly, noticing details about familiar stories that seem especially timely and other parts that had never grabbed my attention before.

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What to Remember When Life Throws You Off Track

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside: When seasons change suddenly or life throws you for an unexpected loop, remember these quick lessons from the running trail. ~

This little message, written on the trail to encourage marathon runners a few years ago, also spurred me on every time I passed it on my morning jogs.

Every time I sit down to write a blog post that has anything to do with running, I almost have to laugh.

I’ve never been what I’d call a runner. Partly due to a bad foot and partly due to not being very athletic.

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Share Four Somethings: March 2023

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside: The importance of routines and rhythms, memorable quotes from The Great Divorce, a poignant band concert, fighting the worry battle and some fine-lookin’ nachos.

I played the bass drum in high school marching band. I wasn’t great at it; in fact, I wasn’t even coordinated enough to play with two hands.

What I could do, though, was keep a steady beat.

Steady rhythms are helpful. They keep everything—and everyone—moving forward together.

When the rhythm is disrupted, it can throw everything off. In a high school marching band—and in life.

This hit home last month when I was sick with Covid. The actual illness wasn’t nearly as bad as the emotional roller coaster ride that followed it.

Fortunately, my husband and daughter kept our household running when I was sick. I’m grateful for that.

I’m also thankful for the rhythms and routines that have helped me get back to the business of managing my home and my mental health.

Speaking of routines, I’ve been participating in the monthly Share Four Somethings linkup for a few years now. I’ve gone back and forth about keeping it up.

It wouldn’t disrupt my blogging schedule much if I stopped. But I’ve heard from readers who say they enjoy this type of post because it helps them get to know bloggers on a more personal level.

I’m all for getting to know people better. Plus, these posts are fun to write.

You can let me know what you think about this in the comments. For now, I’m going to continue linking up with Jennifer Goodwin and the rest of the Share Four Somethings bloggers. As always, we start with …

Something Loved

In early March, the U.S. Navy Band kicked off their 2023 tour in Kansas. My sister Ruth is the group’s long-time principal oboist, so it’s always a joy to see them in concert.

This time, it was also bittersweet. When the band came through the Kansas City area in 2018, my dad was in the audience. He was proud of Ruth’s musical career, and he loved hearing her play, especially upbeat marches and other familiar pieces.

Most people probably don’t cry at Navy Band concerts. But I’m guessing it won’t surprise you to know I had to choke back more than a few tears when the band struck up a rousing version of the Washington Post March.

Something Read

I didn’t have any library books handy when I was recovering from Covid, so I pulled The Great Divorce off my shelf. I’m pretty sure it was required reading in college, but I don’t remember any of it.

According to the subtitle, this C.S. Lewis classic describes A Fantastic Bus Ride from Hell to Heaven—A Round Trip for Some but not for Others. Here are a few memorable quotes …

How heaven changes our perspective on suffering:

“This is what mortals misunderstand,” Lewis writes. “They say of some temporal suffering, ‘No future bliss can make up for it,’ not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory.”

How people in Hell choose it:

“There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’ All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice, there could be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened.”

Now I’m reading Lewis’s Letters to Children, which I first found in a delightful used bookshop in Tontitown, Ark., (see photo at top of post) and later ordered from the library. I’m also rereading The Screwtape Letters.

Nothing gets my creative juices flowing more than reading good writing, and for me, Lewis is the absolute best.

Something Learned

This month, I’m sharing what I didn’t learn. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say I haven’t learned it nearly well as I thought.

The lesson? Not worrying about tomorrow.

In early 2020, when the world seemed to be teetering on the brink of disaster, God gently impressed upon my heart the need to address this struggle in a tangible way. (See here and here for more on that story.) I still have miles to go, but I honestly thought I had made a bit of progress with it.

Lately, though, I’ve found that while I’m able to live one day at a time in certain areas of my life, I’m far less OK with it in others. It’s been a mental battle, to put it mildly.

The particulars aren’t as important as the struggle, which I think many of us face.

Waiting for answers isn’t easy. What is easy—at least for me—is getting stuck in the what-if vortex.

The difference, compared with how I was before 2020, is that now I am very aware of what is going on. In a way, this makes it worse because I sometimes feel like a fraud. On the other hand, it’s helpful because I am actively seeking ways to respond.

I’m taking deep breaths. Remembering how God has worked in the past. Trying to cast my cares on Jesus right when they are swarming my mind.

One day at a time.

“I called to the Lord in my distress, and I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.” ~ Psalm 18:6

Something Eaten

Nothing fancy here, folks. We’re talking about nachos this month. On frequent Sunday evenings, Randy spreads out the chips, covers them with cheese and pops them in the microwave.

For Molly, a vast quantity of cheese is enough. For me, the work is only beginning. But, as you might concur after seeing the photo, the result is totally worth it.

• • •

Now it’s your turn. Have you read any memorable books lately? If worrying about tomorrow is a struggle for you, how do you combat it? How do you like your nachos—just cheese or loaded down with colorful extras? Do tell in the comments, or add your own version of Share Four Somethings.

♥ Lois

Steady rhythms are helpful. They keep everything—and everyone—moving forward together. Share on X I’m taking deep breaths. Remembering how God has worked in the past. Trying to cast my cares on Jesus right when they are swarming my mind. One day at a time. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with sharefoursomethings, #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

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