This Week, I've Found Myself Thinking...

With Valentine’s Day coming up, I’ve been feeling an itch to blog about it - or at least to blog about what I've been thinking about in this week leading up to it.

Last year, I took a lighter, yet darker, more chocolate approach to the day and wrote Valentine's Day.

But this year - this week - I’m feeling a little more thoughtful. And, slightly all over the map. I've felt a little nostalgic, a little weak, a little (a lot) thankful, a little prayerful, a little serious, a little Snoopy.

Hold on. I'll show you what I mean.

This week, I’ve found myself thinking about Valentine’s Days past. 

When we were homeschooling, we threw some fun Valentine’s Day parties for the girls. We planned and decorated and celebrated and always bought a big balloon.

I’m sure those were some slightly stressful “how am I going to get it all done” days, but I don’t remember a bit of that. I just look at these pictures and remember perfection. Isn’t that what we do? Why do we do that? Is it because we are so busy navigating today’s “hard," that yesterdays all seem relatively easy? That selective memory gig is so interesting.

This week, I’ve found myself thinking about my Mom. 

Mom died 7 months ago on July 13, 2014. She was 88 and sick and tired, and tired of being sick and tired. She was ready. Knowing that gave (and gives) great comfort, but for some reason, especially yesterday, I missed my mother. I wanted to talk to her. I missed her voice. I replayed a couple of voicemails that I've kept on my phone where she asked me to pick up some juice for her at the grocery store. "It's real good juice, not watered down like some of them..."

It’s good to have loved someone so much that you miss them, isn’t it?

This week, I’ve found myself thinking about my Lou. 

He’s a good man. A really good man. He loves the Lord and me and our crew so well. 

1987 - I've always liked this pic of us

A few completely random things about him that make me smile are:

His voice.

How much he loves tennis.

His knowledge and love of cars.

How he loves technology and all it does for us.

How he can't stand still.

His love of bike riding.

His cooking!

How much his patients love him. When they tell me they love him, I think I'm pretty clever when I come back with, "I do too!!" 

This week, I found myself thinking about my kids.

This week, I found myself praying for my kids.

How I love our crew. Five of the six are scattered to the four winds, but all are in the thick of figuring out what is what, and where they want to be, and how to do what they want to do, and can they really even do what they think they want to do? God has gifted each one of them so uniquely, and I long for them to know how to be and what to do with the gifts given to them. Even more, I pray that they know the Giver of the gifts and love Him with all their heart, and soul, and mind.

The almost ready pic

This week, I've found myself thinking about Kara Tippetts.  

Her blog, Mundane Faithfulness, is chronicling her journey from life to death, which is more imminent for her than most of us think is imminent for us, as she is on hospice care. I first became aware of Kara back in October 2014 when I read this post she wrote on Ann Voskamp's blog, A Holy Experience. I am drawn to Kara's beautiful faith-filled life. I want to love and trust my Jesus like she does when the suffering coming my way comes. We are told in John 16:33 

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." 

Suffering - tribulation - and death are coming to all of us eventually. I don't know if we are ever ready for it. The coming of most of the really hard things that I've gone through have completely blind-sided me. But so far, in these 53 years God has given me to live, He has been faithful in and through the tough times. He has helped. He has loved. God has given the strength and hope needed. He has kept His word.

That's heavy stuff, and I know sometimes our tendency is to shy away from heavy stuff. It's not fun. If fun is our goal, we are going to have a life time of fake. It's only in really dealing with and thinking through the heavy stuff of life and death can we be authentic and have the joy, peace and stamina to live out each day. We lean hard into the truths of God's word knowing He will give all of Him and the truth and the hope and the joy that is promised. When we do that, we will have all that we need for a real, authentic, joy filled life. The weight and wonder of it all astounds me sometimes.

This week I've found myself thinking about how I procrastinate.

How can I ever procrastinate after writing the previous paragraphs? I'm ridiculous. Aren't you glad God's love and faithfulness is rock solid through all our ridiculousness?

I still haven't bought my Lou's Valentine's Day card (or gift). I think I put a little pressure on myself to outdo all other Valentine's Days to date. Good grief. Just stop.

This does, however, take me back to some previous Valentine's from my Lou that I've kept. I really liked Lou's Snoopy phase...

I'm seriously impressed that you've hung with me through all these meanderings. Well done. Here's some parting Snoopy wisdom - not from my stash of Lou cards, but from the internet after I googled, "Snoopy wisdom."

Many, many blessings to you as you love on those nearest and dearest to you.

The Death of My Mother

My mother died three weeks ago - on Sunday, July 13, 2014.

When we went to bed the Saturday night before, she was already asleep. We were all happy to see that because she had been feeling quite low for most of the day on Saturday, as well as the couple of days preceding. My doctor husband happened to get up around 3 a.m. Sunday morning and he checked on her. She was still sleeping peacefully.

When we both got up around 6 a.m., Lou was the first to go by her room. I had made a stop in the laundry room to transfer some clothes from the washer to the dryer. I typically try to not do laundry on Sunday, but our son, David, was leaving that morning for a trip with friends to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and had asked me to throw a couple of things in the wash the night before.

I was standing in front of those machines when Lou opened the door and tenderly said, "Shelley...I think your mom's gone."

I'm tearing up remembering it.

You don't forget where you are and what you're doing when you find out your parent has died.

It just now occurred to me that the person who loves me the most in this world (beside both my parents) had to deliver that difficult news to me with both my mom and my dad. I consider that a sweet mercy from God.

Another sweet mercy from the Lord is that I got to see both my parents right after they died, and not just in the casket. I know it's basically a "duh" statement, but nobody looks like themselves in a casket. When I saw Mom on that early Sunday morning, she looked like herself, just asleep.

It gives me great comfort to know she went to sleep in this world and woke up in the next. Because she was a Christian, we hold fast to promises like 2 Corinthians 5:8.

We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.

The days after someone you love dies are blurry and busy. You cry a lot and strangely, you laugh. At least, we did. My mom was such a personality. A sassy, clever, "call it like she sees it" force. You loved her for it most days, and the other days, it drove you crazy. Isn't that how it is with family?

Family.

What a good word - a good gift from God.

Our family came together to celebrate mom's life, and what family couldn't make it, there were calls, cards and messages that comforted from afar.

One of my cousins, who is only 12 years younger than Mom, was able to come to the visitation. She brought a couple of pictures of Mom that none of us kids had ever seen. It was such a delightful surprise in the middle of our sadness. They were pictures she had given to her parents many, many years ago and had somehow ended up in my cousin's hands. The only negative thing about them being black and white is that you can't see her clear blue eyes.

Pictures of loved ones are precious at these times. Which is one of the reasons, I guess, that when the family comes in like they do at funerals, you take group pictures - of people who've been crying off and on. It always strikes me a little strange how we smile for the camera in the middle of these sad times, but you do. Another thought that goes through my head is how much the person you're grieving would love to be there with all the ones who are gathered because of them. Mom would have enjoyed seeing her children...

Keith, Hugh, Andy, Kathy, and me

and most of her grandchildren.

Joe, Daniel, David, Luke
Abbie, Jeffre, Savannah, Mary Grace
Faith, Hannah, Elizabeth, Camryn

Since my scattered crew (a couple from Tulsa, and one from LA) was in, I too, asked them for a sibling picture...

Hannah, Faith, Elizabeth, Luke, Mary Grace, David

and a whole family picture.

Alex, Hannah, Lou, me, Luke, David
Elizabeth, Faith, Mary Grace

I also want to include another picture of Mom. This was her engagement picture, and one I stared at many times when I was growing up. I thought she was so beautiful and elegant.

My beautiful and elegant mother lived 88 years. She is now pain free and home free, and that gives me great comfort. I miss her, but the separation is only temporary, and I would do well to remember that. Death will come to us all and remembering that truth adds a good, important weight to life - a call to not waste this precious gift given to us by God.

As I end, I'm including the program from the funeral, my brother's (Andy's) sweet eulogy of Mom, and her obituary for those far away who knew and loved her and her family, but were unable to attend.

Our family has felt loved and cared for during this time. We are very thankful for the many messages, calls, and cards that have come. They are precious to us.

Andy's eulogy:

I come to thank God for my mother.  She was a great mom who loved all her children and grandchildren, sons-in-law, and daughters-in-law.  She was also known by many as friend.  As a mom, she willingly made all the usual sacrifices for her children in terms of time and material things.  She was a great mom and I will miss her.

My mom was a Christian, trusting in Jesus Christ as her Lord and savior, and she made sure all of her children were at church every Sunday.  I am also confident that God used mom as at least part of the means of drawing each of her children to himself.  In my own case, I do not remember when I became a Christian, but I remember very well mom calling me into her bedroom after a particular evangelistic meeting we had just attended.  I was in the neighborhood of eight years old and Davy Crockett was one of my heroes.  Mom knew this, of course, and after calling me into the bedroom she reminded me about Davy Crockett’s motto:  “Be sure you’re right, then go ahead.”  I don’t recall her exact words but she told me something to the effect that a decision for God, especially to become a Christian, is always right. 

Mom was a reader and she made sure we always had books to read.  I don’t know about my siblings but, sadly, I didn’t read most of what she bought for me.  She kept trying, though, and I eventually did read some of the books she bought.  Mom and dad both believed in education and she and dad both sacrificed a lot, and I know it was a lot, to send all of their children to private school and then they paid for most of them to attend college.  I never heard them complain about whatever it was they had to give up in order to do this.  

Mom was always fun to have a conversation with.  She told you what was on her mind.  She was also very adept at the technique of speaking sotto voce.  At a certain point in the conversation, mom would make some sort of editorial comment to no one in particular, but usually for all to hear, and usually it was a highly specific and unequivocal criticism, and often it was funny (except when I was her target).  Mom was refreshingly politically incorrect.  

I was in the habit of calling my mom on Sundays, just to check in.  Most of the time we didn’t talk about anything particularly important.  During one of our last conversations, I was telling her about a particular patient who was suffering from a litany of ailments.  She was sympathetic and asked how old he was.  I told her, “He’s pretty old, mom, he’s 88.”  She appreciated the joke.  

Mom’s last 10 years were spent without my dad and that was tough on her.  And her last two years were also tough for various health reasons.  But the silver lining there is that she lived most of the last two years with my sister, Shelley, and her family.  Though that had to be hard in a number of ways, I am also sure it was also good for all of them, especially mom.  Shelley and Lou and all the Harris children, thank you for how you lovingly cared for mom during her final months.  

On Sunday morning when I got the call from Shelley that mom had died, I happened to be reading my Bible, from the book of Malachi.  Shortly after hanging up the phone and telling Debbie, I went back to reading and very quickly came to Malachi 4:2, which says, “But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in his wings.  You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.”  I’ve seen calves running and skipping from stalls and it may sound corny but at that moment I imagined my mom in heaven, freed from the tether of her oxygen and her other physical limitations, running and skipping as I know she did in her youth, feeling nothing but good, walking and leaping and praising God.  So sure, we her family and friends grieve, but not as those who have no hope.  Because Jesus really lived, died and rose again, we have a very sure and certain hope in the resurrection of the dead to everlasting life in God’s presence, where there is fullness of joy and at whose right hand are pleasures forevermore. 

So, on behalf of her children, grandchildren, sons-in-law, daughters-in-law, other relatives and friends, I thank God today for my mom, her faithful service to him as a mom, and for her witness to the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Thank you, God.  


Mom's obituary:

Violet Marea Petty Vaughan

Violet Vaughan, beloved mother, formerly of Munford, Tennessee, passed away Sunday, July 13, 2014, in Bolivar, MO, at the home of her daughter.

She was born May 29, 1926, in Campbell, MO, to Samuel Andrew Petty and Minerva Bell Redmon. As a farmer’s daughter, growing up in the heart of the depression, she learned how to make do and do without. She determined at an early age to leave the cotton fields behind, so after graduating from Campbell High School, she attended St. Frances Hospital School of Nursing, Topeka, KS,  and graduated in 1947. For the next 9 years, she then worked at hospitals in New Orleans, LA, Jackson, MS, Kennet, MO, and Memphis, TN, before meeting and marrying Dr. Hugh Wynn Vaughan in 1954. They moved to Munford, TN, where she hung up her nurses cap to become a full time mother. After their fifth child graduated from high school, she returned to the nursing profession for eight years, working at Covington Hospital in Covington, TN. She and Hugh were married 49 years before his death in 2004.

Violet was blessed with a quick wit and was known for her many pithy comments. To get her children through awkward situations, she often advised, “Hold a high head and a booming tale, and go on!” She loved cooking, crossword puzzles, cross-stitch, reading, poetry, Adrian Roger's sermons, and in her later years, TV watching. She prided herself on being an excellent speller and wordsmith. She was blessed to have her clever mind till the end.

She was a faithful wife and lovingly attentive mother. “Her children stand and bless her…” Prov 31:28a

She is survived by her 5 children: Hugh Vaughan, Jr., and his wife, Charlene of Huntington, WV, Andy Vaughan and wife Debbie of Rochester, MN, Keith Vaughan of Lakewood, WA, Kathy Poston of Ripley, TN, and Shelley Harris and husband Lou of Bolivar, MO. Other surviving family members include 15 grandchildren, 3 great grandchildren, and numerous nieces and nephews. 

Services are Thursday, July 17, at 11 am at First Baptist Church, Bolivar, MO. Visitation will be from 6-8 pm on Wednesday, July 16, at Murray Funeral Home, Bolivar. Interment in Greenwood Cemetery, Bolivar, MO. Memorial contributions can be made to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

A Marked Woman

On December 31, 2012, I saw Les Miserables.

That movie has marked me.

I kind of knew the story going into it, but I didn't remember the specifics. I knew a few of the songs - also in a very general way. Now, four weeks later, I know the story. I know the songs.

I went with my family (sans Luke) to a theater in Kansas City to see it. We had driven up there to spend the night before our 6:30 a.m. flight to the Seattle, WA, area. We had deliberately put off seeing the movie. We had "saved" it for this time before our midwinter vacation. With all the hype, we were all very eager to see it.

The tone was set from the get-go. Brutally real drama...and singing. All singing all the time. Next to no dialogue. Was that going to get annoying?

Nope. At least not for me. Because after one of the very early scenes, I was emotionally rocked.

Valjean, convicted and marked for life thief, who had enjoyed a meal and place to sleep because the Bishop had pity on him, had just been apprehended and brought back to the Bishop's house after stealing much of his silver. The Bishop, instead of condemning Valjean and sending him back to prison, tells the police that the stolen silver was, as Jean Valjean had told the officials, a gift. That blessed Bishop then sang the following words to "his friend."

~Bishop~

That is right.

But my friend you left so early

Surely something slipped your mind

[The bishop gives Valjean two silver candlesticks.]

You forgot I gave these also

Would you leave the best behind?

So Messieurs you may release him

For this man has spoken true

I commend you for your duty

May God's blessing go with you.

But remember this, my brother

See in this some higher plan

You must use this precious silver

To become an honest man

By the witness of the martyrs

By the Passion and the Blood

God has raised you out of darkness

I have saved your soul for God!

My first thought after watching this scene was, "I would have never done what the Bishop just did." 

Never. I would have sent Valjean's ungrateful self back with the police. I would not have given him mercy, and I definitely would not have given him grace.

Over the last few years, I have been trying to wrap my mind around the concept of grace as the Bible describes it. I have to confess. I just haven't gotten it. I've heard the acronym for grace all my Christian life: God's Riches At Christ's Expense.  I sort of get it, but not really. When I saw the above described scene in this very real, very raw movie, I felt like my some of my grace blinders fell off.

Mercy is not sending Valjean back. Mercy is not getting what you deserve.
Grace is giving him the candlesticks. Grace is getting what you don't deserve.

The Bishop's faith in who God is and what He has said in his word is so rock solid that he can give mercy and grace (and precious, real silver) to a thief, completely trusting the consequences of all those gifts to God.

Do I believe what God says that much?

Will I trust Him and show more mercy? Will I trust Him and show more grace?

Could I ever, in a hundred years, take something from my house that was as valuable as those candlesticks and give them to anybody, let alone a complete stranger - a thief? How do you get to that place?

The movie had just started and I was reeling.

That mercy and grace lesson was reverberating in my soul as I watched the rest of the movie. More than one scene made my soul ache. More than one scene made me wince and yet, I didn't shed a tear.  I’ve talked with others who saw the movie. They mentioned crying throughout. I didn’t. 

Then came the scene where Jean Valjean died. It started with a beautiful ghostly Fantine singing. “Monsieur, I bless your name...” 

Jean Valjean, dying, laboriously whispers, “I am ready Fantine.”

“Monsieur, lay down your burden.”

“At the end of my days...”

“You raised my child in love..”

“She’s the best of my life...”

“And you will be with God.”

At this point, Cossette and Marius come in. There is forgiveness and affirmation of love between them and Jean Valjean. Then Fantine comes in again:

"Come with me

Where chains will never bind you.

All your grief at last, at last, behind you.

Lord in heaven, look down on him in mercy!"

Valjean responds:

Forgive me all my trespasses

and take me to your glory

Fantine:

Take my hand, I'll lead you to salvation

Take my love, for love is everlasting,

And remember the truth that once was spoken

To love another person is to see the face of God!

Valjean's giving, loving life that resulted in this kind of freeing death was the fruition of the seed of grace shown to him by the Bishop. The realization of the power of grace - the effect that an act of grace can have in a life - was, at this point, overwhelming to me. And I started to cry.

And I could not stop. Not for quite a while.

I think I halfway freaked out the kids. They just kept staring at me and asking, "Are you ok?" By the time we arrived at a restaurant for dinner, I was, thankfully, under control. 

It's been 4 weeks. I've been aching to write this post. I'm still thinking about grace and mercy and the bishop and God. I can think of two instances since seeing the movie - since being convicted so mightily about what grace is and what it might look like - where I have been about to live out what I consider "justice" and then purposely chosen grace instead. That's such a huge miracle for me. I'm sure I've had more than those two opportunities in those weeks, but I'll take those two for now.

Two baby steps on what I hope becomes a more grace filled life.

My Dad's Birthday

I'm thinking about my dad, a little extra today because today, January 11, 2013, would have been my dad's 85th birthday. Dr. Hugh Wynn Vaughan was a good man.

I found 6 old photographs of him that I could lay my hands on very quickly that I thought I'd share here. There's no real rhyme or reason to them - other than the fact that if I saw one of him holding me, I included it.

I loved that man and I knew he loved me.

That is a great gift from a father to a daughter.

Our yearly trip to the zoo. I'm 8 months old.

My Dad and his partner, Dr. Sid. Dad said they never had a cross word. Dr. Sid died in January of 2004. My dad died in March of 2004.

Dad holding me, Kathy, Keith and Andy. I still love saddle oxfords.

Another trip to the zoo

One of my favorite pictures of Daddy. Visiting with Mr. Scott.

This is one of my dad's favorite pictures. Mine too.

Grateful today for many happy memories!

A Precious Thing

10-11-12 would have been my paternal grandmother's 112th birthday. I called her "Mama Trudy," and she loved on me until she died in 1991.

Luke and Mama Trudy - July 1990

During her 91 years, she made a couple of trips to the Holy Land, where she picked up small New Testaments bound with wood and embellished with the Jerusalem cross.

When I was a young girl, she gave one to me.

And when she was 89 years old, she gave one to my first born, Luke.

Her inscription - her prayer - for her grandson still touches and moves me today.

I often pray it for Luke and for all my children - for Hannah, David, Faith, Elizabeth, and Mary Grace.

Yes, Lord, may they read it often and may they grow in wisdom and stature with God. 

Thank you, Mama Trudy, for my precious heritage and this precious gift.

Truma Elizabeth Calhoun Vaughan 

October 11, 1900 - November 26, 1991

InstaFriday- Mid August

We've got a really serious drought going on here in southwest Missouri.

And I've had a drought of my own - a 2 week blogging drought. Obviously not nearly as serious as our real one. And not nearly as serious as one of the reasons for my posting hiatus. 

My sister's husband died August 8 after an extended illness. He was one of the most giving people you'll ever meet. If he heard you mention wanting/needing something, and he could get it for you, he would. He and my sister shared 33 years together.

We traveled to Tennessee to grieve with her.

I heard my dad's voice as we prepared for the visitation and the funeral. He said visitations were sweet times. Of course, the reason you and your family and your community get together is a sad one. But the sweet part was the getting together of your family and your community. Dad said you'd see people you hadn't seen in forever. You'd talk about old times and the memories made. He said he loved that.

I like it too.

Before we left for Tennessee, I had taken some handy dandy iPhone pics from the previous week that never made their way to my InstaFriday, so I'm including a few of those here too. Gotta catch things up, ya know?

This first pic was sent to our sweet Hannah. She had been gone for a couple of days, and we missed her. So we sent her this pic telling her that "the world sitting around our table wants to know what you are up to."

Hi Hannah!

A day or two after that, our local newspaper ran this story on the 2nd page. I laughed out loud! Gotta love small town life!

I took this picture to document my first ride after "the wreck." I am happy to report it was accident free. I definitely needed to get back in the saddle, and not just for health reasons.

And yes, we wore our helmets.

We celebrated our recent high school graduate's birthday August 6. He wanted sushi.

Ewhh.

But it was his birthday, so he got it.

I love car cards. David doesn't.

Birthday party people.

Before we headed out to TN, we had a important stop to make in Springfield. Mary Grace had been scheduled to have her braces taken off for a couple of months and we didn't want to put that off any longer.

No more metal mouth!

Before....

After! With Dr. Bauer and co.

While in Tennessee, I was amazed by a couple of things. First, it is green there. No terrible drought. Second, the crepe myrtles are stunning. And they are everywhere. Beauty always speaks to me.

Outside a pharmacy

Love how they prune them.

After the funeral, we snapped a picture of my mom with her kids. My sweet sister smiled on the outside as she was crying on the inside.

As we headed back to my sister's after the funeral, we stopped at a Veteran's Museum. My mom wanted to see her brother's memorial bricks. They both died years ago. I'm glad for the opportunity here to publicly  - on the world wide web, no less - thank them for their service.












As we were leaving that museum, I noticed this flag.

Wow...1864. Being unfamiliar with C.S.A., I turned and asked the lady working there, "What does C.S.A. stand for?"
To which she responded very condescendingly, "Well, you are obviously not from the south. It stands for Confederate States of America."

Sorry about the reflection...this room was set up for a wedding reception.

WHOA! Those are fighting words! I was quick to tell her that I was born and raised in the south.

As we walked back to the car, Mary Grace told me she glared at her for me when she said that. Of course, during that same walk, we all thought of more clever comebacks we wished we had said to the very recently dubbed "rude lady." Hello? The War of Northern Aggression is over!

Once back at my sister's, each age group tried to rest and relax. With cooler temperatures, the cousins migrated to the front porch for a movie.

After returning home, I didn't document much of this week - until Thursday.

Thursday was a big day. My three youngest girls started school. Faith is a senior (!), Elizabeth is a junior, and Mary Grace is an 8th grader. This is also Mary Grace's first year not being home schooled.

Kind of a big deal - for her and me.

Thursday was also the day we moved David to the University of Arkansas.

Kind of a big deal - for him and me.

The good news is he's not alone in Fayetteville. Luke works there now, and Hannah is a senior (!) at the U of A.  Enjoyed taking our Arkansas kids out for dinner before heading home.

To say the last 2 weeks have been a bit emotional is an understatement. Some highs. Some lows.

But we've felt God's guidance, care, and comfort. He promises:

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.
                                                                                                                        Isaiah 43:2

Thanks for sharing my weeks with me.

God is faithful!