Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
Christmas 1968. We were on a westbound journey. I don’t think we knew what or where our final destination was. Or at least I didn’t. I was ten years old. All I knew was we had left Georgia suddenly, late one evening, to escape my dad, who, I felt was rarely happy and was almost always angry about something.
My parents had divorced after 25 years of marriage, and my dad just couldn’t seem to let go of my mom. She was like a possession that he’d had a long time and didn’t want to loose.
Now he’d begun a “cat-and-mouse” chase that lasted several months. We left everything behind us –most of our clothes, my toys, my dog. All I remember taking along were our ice cream freezer, Bible, and a blue and white paperback book a friend had recently given to my mom, Science and Health.
As we passed through Mobile, Alabama, my dad found us, and we were literally in a car chase, with Mom and me driving very fast and making lots of turns to try to shake him off. We did . . . for a while.
That Christmas found us in a mobile home in Beaumont, Texas. We stayed in mobile-home parks instead of hotels as we traveled west, so as to be more elusive as the chase continued.
There was little to no money to be spent on gifts. But my mom and I were safe – and in several ways we were happy.
Christmas in Beaumont had no glitz or glimmer. There was no family gathering, no holiday feast. We got ourselves a tiny Christmas tree. It was so small I suspect it was like the tree in the cartoon classic “A Charlie Brown Christmas” – the tree nobody wanted. We didn’t have any decorations. Not even a tree stand. So, we found a way to hang the tree from the ceiling. I remember thinking how cool that was. We strung popcorn and made paper strings. This too, I remember, was fun.
What is perhaps most remarkable as I look back on it now, is that my memory of that Christmas is not one of fear and uncertainty, but of peace. It’s almost hard for me to understand how, in the midst of such a violent and unstable time in my life, my memories could be so dear, so special. In fact, I’ve often said that was the best Christmas ever. How could that be true?
Since childhood I had been taught that God loved me. That God is good. That God is everywhere. I had learned the Bible stories of Daniel in the lions’ den and of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego being thrown into the fiery furnace. I think I was confident of God’s care, even though my life was apparently in danger and my future most uncertain and at risk.
My Bible study had begun to involve the Science and Health my mom had been given. It never ceased to amaze me by explaining and putting into words what was somehow already written in my heart. It was filled with powerful affirmations of God’s saving power and helpful explanations of the mission of Jesus. The book assured me that all things were possible to God and that I could never be separated from Him.
Certainly, the Bible teaches these things, but my study of Science and Health clarified many Bible passages for me and convinced me that what I was learning in the Bible was true. If I was ever in doubt, this book would defend the Bible’s claim and strengthen my trust.
I was not a member of a Church of Christ, Scientist. In fact, I had recently been baptized in another denomination. But it was very natural to include Science and Health with my Bible study. It provided extra assurance that I, too, could be as safe as those Bible characters.
“Love is much stronger than hate and
can dispel fear, uncertainty, and doubt”
Two years later, I did join a Church of Christ, Scientist, and have been blessed in more ways that I could ever have imagined during my childhood.
We made our way up to Dallas after that Christmas, where my mom found a job. I found myself in a new school making new friends. We established a new home, and my mom married the friend who had given her that paperback Science and Health. I even got my dog back. My grandmother had rescued him and cared for him.
And what happened to my dad? He ended his chase, went back to Georgia, and began a new life of his own. I never had the opportunity to see him again, as he passed on several months later. But I like to think that, before he passed on, he was as happy as we were in our new life.
Now, I try to take a few moments every holiday season to remember the Christmas of 1968. Our modest celebration taught me that peace and hope can be felt in the midst of threats of violence; that joy is not dependent on money and circumstances; that love is much stronger than hate and can dispel fear, uncertainty, and doubt.
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
The Bible in My life
How well I remember the Bible stores read to me as a child! Daniel in the lions’ den. Joseph with his coat of many colors. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego in the fiery furnace. David and Goliath. And many others.
Throughout my life, the Bible has been my life coach. If I need guidance of any kind, I know I can find it in the Scriptures. And Science and Health assures me that “the Bible contains the recipe for all healing” (p. 406). Again and again, I am finding this to be so.
Not long ago I learned a lesson from the account of Daniel’s interpretation of King Nebuchadnezzar’s dreams, in chapters one to four of the Old Testament book of Daniel. The king sought advice from magicians, astrologers, and sorcerers, about the significance of these dreams, but they gave him no satisfaction.
Eventually Daniel – who had prayed that the “wisdom and might” of God might be revealed to him –was brought to Nebuchadnezzar. Daniel offered an interpretation, but the king feared that the humility called for in Daniel’s response, which pointed to God’s supremacy, would threaten the “power, and strength, and glory” he had worked so hard to attain.
It was Nebuchadnezzar’s pride that caught my attention. At the time, I was working on a variety of projects. I enjoyed what I was doing, but I was feeling that I was the only person on the job who could accomplish the tasks efficiently. Many days, I felt burdened and overwhelmed. I should have asked for assistance from other members on my team, but I didn’t – mainly because I didn’t think anyone else could get the job done as well as I could.
Soon, I began to suffer from severe headaches. I couldn’t sleep at night, because I would lie in bed thinking about all that I had to get done the next day. Some nights I suffered constricting pains in my chest that were so severe I could hardly breathe.
It was during one of my sleepless nights that I reread that story about Nebuchadnezzar. Suddenly I realized that I was expressing a similar kind of puffed-up pride. I had been thinking my skills were indispensable and irreplaceable. Self-righteousness and self-justification controlled my reasoning and actions.
Then it struck me that it wasn’t until Nebuchadnezzar had humbled himself before God and learned to “praise and extol and honour the King of heaven, all whose works are truth,” that his life was restored and renewed (Dan 4:37).
Reading about Nebuchadnezzar’s experience made me feel humble, too – even a bit ashamed of myself. I was reminded of Jesus’ words, “I can of my own self do nothing: as I hear, I judge: and my judgment is just; because I seek not mine own will, but the will of the Father which hath sent me” (John 5:30).
Gradually I came to think of the Bible’s characters as friends who shared not only their trials and challenges with me, but also their triumphs and the lessons they had learned. It was encouraging to know that others had walked down similar paths, surmounted roadblocks, and gotten back on track when spiritual insight called for a change in direction.
“Throughout my life, the Bible has been my life coach” H Mary Baker Eddy explained that we have the ability to improve our circumstances when she wrote, “If you believe in and practice wrong knowingly, you can at once change your course and do right” (Science and Health, p. 253). So that’s what I did. After praying to better understand God’s power and His government of our workplace, I became more of a team player – delegating tasks and sharing responsibilities. I stopped judging and criticizing others’ efforts. In fact, I gained an appreciation of my fellow co-workers and their talents that I didn’t have before.
I stopped taking myself so seriously, too. I started seeing my work in a new light, viewing it as an essential element in the business of glorifying God. Thinking with God. Seeing what God sees. Knowing what God knows. From that point on, work was handled so harmoniously that it was like watching musicians playing a symphony.
The headaches stopped, as well as the chest pains. There were no more sleepless nights. Joy and lightheartedness filled my days in the office. My Bible friends had helped to rescue me!
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
“Summertime, and the livin’ is easy.” I think that’s how the song begins. But it’s not so easy in summertime when one lives on a Texas ranch and it’s hay season.
My mama says she didn’t send me to college to end up driving a tractor. To get my hands dirty. But almost immediately upon the completion of my undergraduate degree, I married a Texas boy and began life on a cattle ranch.
Most of the time, I tell my friends my life is much like Eva Gabor on the U.S. 1960’s sitcom, “Green Acres.” I go shopping. I get monthly pedicures. I go to the hairdresser twice a month. And I get my acrylic nails put on and filled. This also requires two appointments each month. And I never, ever, ever drive a tractor without first putting on my lipstick.
Today was the first day of this year’s hay season. I admit this time of year is a love, sometimes hate, relationship. The long workdays and late night dinners are not much fun. But there is something about driving a tractor that I do enjoy. The smell of freshly cut grass is most pleasing. And I especially relish the broad view the hay fields provide as I move along.
The big horizon before my gaze reminds me how infinite life is. And whatever troubles have been burdening my heart begin to seem quite small in contrast.
Inevitably, the last stanza of a favorite hymn comes to mind:
“Green pastures are before me, Which yet I have not seen; Bright skies will soon be o’er me, Where darkest clouds have been. My hope I cannot measure, My path in life is free; My Father has my treasure, And He will walk with me.”
As I press on under the hot Texas sun and sing these words, my heart is filled with peaceful appreciation of the moment. I take a deep breath, wipe the sweat off my brow, and sing the words again. Then, I start to reflect on how attitudes and perceptions impact my life.
As I grew up, my mama always encouraged me to look for what is good in everything. And to be grateful. Time and again her advice proved to be right, and I learned how gratitude was a viewpoint from which my life could be observed, helping me to see what was there instead of what was not. Gratitude had the power to broaden my vision and to help me see options and prospects that were only obscured by a limited point of view.
My most vivid recent example of this came with the remodel of the little farmhouse where my husband and I have lived the past 25 years. It began as our starter house and grew into the home where we would raise our only child. Now, it has become the place where we may spend our retirement years.
For most of these years, I was ready to move out. Ready to build a new house. And consequently, I spent much of my time being unhappy about where I was and looking forward to something that might never be.
A friend, who is a talented artist with an interior decorator’s eye, was visiting one day and began pointing out various special and unique features she saw in our little farmhouse. She saw details I had never appreciated and valued before–mostly because I was consumed with focusing on what I didn’t like. My heart was so set on building a new house, I wasn’t even considering ideas on how to improve where I was.
A truly miraculous thing happened — something I didn’t expect, wasn’t looking for, and would never have imagined. My view of my little farmhouse changed. As my appreciation for it grew, I began to imagine ways to remodel. Very soon, the idea of building a new house was no longer even a consideration. I wanted to stay where I was. I was totally happy and satisfied where I was. Today, with the remodeling almost complete, I can’t imagine living anywhere else.
Once again, gratitude helped me to see present possibilities, and that new view changed my life.
My first day of driving the tractor this year was accomplished with me feeling quite satisfied with and proud of my hay loader skills. Those folks familiar with this type of work will appreciate my meaning when I say I didn’t miss any bales!
A thumbs up from my husband affirmed, “Good job!” And I was on my way to cook supper.
Summertime in Texas means many more days like today. But tomorrow’s not a hay baling day! I have my pedicure appointment!
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
“I love you this much!” our daughter would say, smiling and stretching her little arms as far apart as she could. And she would ask us to say how much we loved her while we held out our arms and included as many quantifying phrases as we could think of — such as, I love you … more than the number of stars you can count in the sky, or I love you … more than all the people in the world. Oh, how she would giggle with delight at this news!
I guess I’m a bit like my daughter, who is now grown up and married. I can’t help but tell my husband how much I love him, and I love for him to tell me the same. So, there are those times when I ask, “How much do you love me?” And he responds with answers similar to those we used to tell our baby girl.
Recently, after I asked him my “How much do you love me?” question, he sweetly answered and then asked, “But is there a measure for love?” A good question. A profound question, the more I thought about it.
Pondering if it’s possible to measure love, I can’t help but think of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways … .” Her beautiful love sonnet includes such sentiments as “I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach” and “I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life!” I must admit, to hear such statements of “quantity” would certainly make me feel really loved.
Perhaps it’s not possible or necessary to measure one’s love for another, because our love truly is more than mere words could ever express. And I know the old saying often holds true, “Actions speak louder than words.” But I still want and long for the words, too. Maybe that explains my passion for romantic songs, books, movies and greeting cards.
Consider how weddings almost always include a love song. Couples choose a song or songs that express their feelings for each other. Such romantic ballads have existed for thousands of years and have been found in most cultures. Songwriter and producer Robin Frederick wrote, “The earliest love songs sound so contemporary, so honest, so urgent, they might have been written yesterday. They are proof that human emotions have not changed. When we fall in love today, we feel what men and women felt in centuries past: desire, joy, disappointment, yearning, fulfillment.”
It seems we’ve always loved to tell our beloveds how much we love them, and we cherish having the same sentiments expressed back to us. “An anthropologist once asked a Hopi why so many of his people’s songs were about rain. The Hopi replied, ‘Because water is so scarce. Is that why so many of your songs are about love?'” (“Gila: Life & Death of an American River” by Gregory McNamee)
My answer to this Hopi would have been a resounding “Hardly!”
The American culture’s interest and passion for love is anything but scarce. We may not always have our actions coincide with our desires, but we are in love with love nonetheless. Love is the theme of many of our songs because we long to soothe and inspire our soul with love lyrics. We love hearing about longing for love, finding love, wishing we could find love, as well as when we have found it and want more of it. And yes, we also love lyrics that paint a less rosy picture, expressing our many fears and insecurities about love — losing it or never having found it.
But the Hopi was correct in that many of our songs are indeed about love. In fact, over half of the most popular songs written in America throughout the decades have been, and still are today, on the subject of love.
The subject of many of Jesus’ teachings were on love — love for God and from God, love for our neighbor, and even love for our enemies. Jesus also warned us against the wrong kinds of love — praying aloud because we love to be seen and heard and disproportionate love of our material treasures. His teachings established the basis for how we can measure our love for God by our love for one another.
Paul’s famous words on the extent and reach of God’s love for us is perhaps my very favorite Bible verse: “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God … ” (Romans 8:38-39).
Wow! Those words surely quantify the love of God for us as infinite and eternal and sure make me feel very much loved. So, maybe words fail to fully give a measure of love, but that’s no reason to stop trying to express our love — not only in our actions but, yes, also in our words.
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
Do you have dreams that have never been realized? Do you feel like it’s too late to act on them? Well….maybe it’s not!
Since my childhood, I aspired to be a published author. I’ve always loved to write. Keeping a journal was a passion that began when I was nine years old. But many years passed without my dream coming true.
You might be thinking, why would anyone (besides my family and close friends) want to know anything about me and my dreams?
March being National Women’s History Month compels me to write not so much about me and my dreams but about a woman whose life example is encouraging me to pursue my dreams. Even now, as I approach the half century mark. An empty nester wondering what’s next for my life besides becoming a grandmother some day.
The pursuit of dreams, for women and men alike, has long been a powerful force in restoring hope in the face of impossible odds. Its power often comes when we consider that “impossible odds” might sometimes be self-imposed. Such as self-imposed “odds” that make us sigh with dismay: “too old” or “too late.” But to impossible odds, the dreamer and visionary will always say, “Not so!”
I first learned of Mary Baker Eddy as an American author of a book that explained groundbreaking ideas about spirituality and health. Ideas that are more at home in the 21st-century than in her own 19th-century world, in fact. She openly challenged the conventional thinking in theology, medicine and science of her times. So she was often the target of criticism and slander. Consequently, I’ve found that some historic records still don’t tell all the facts of her life correctly.
David Hufford wrote in his book, Eddy: Current Running against the Mainstream, “In the late 1800s, there were very few women in medical schools, in seminaries, or in universities. Mrs. Eddy and a handful of other women upset centuries of tradition when they began to speak and write about religious and medical issues…and to talk openly about the equality of men and women.”
There is much to learn from the lives of others. So how important it is for his-stories and her-stories to be accurately told.
What inspires me now at this time in my life is Mary Baker Eddy was 54 years old when her renowned book, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, was first published. And top that with she was 87 years old when she launched The Christian Science Monitor, as a balanced and ethical alternative to the sensational journalism of her day. A paper that remains a leading international newspaper today, I might add.
Such accomplishments, and there were many others, by a woman during her middle age and senior years, gives me inspiration to imagine the possibilities for my dreams today.
Eddy’s life story is testament to the fact that it’s never too late to pursue dreams. Her own words give some insight into how dreams can be accomplished. “The devotion of thought to an honest achievement makes the achievement possible.” Mary Baker Eddy’s life and accomplishments proved this for us all. (www.marybakereddylibrary.org)
History is filled with accounts of many great men and women who have fulfilled their dreams. Mary Baker Eddy describes their lives as “miracles of patience and perseverance.” And like them and like her, we’ve all got it in us.
Still feel like it’s too late to pursue your dreams?
Well…maybe it’s not!
