A Five Dollar Lesson

Mary Englebreit, Artist

The sealed envelope, long ago forgotten in a stack of unsorted papers and magazines, was still there this morning.  I picked it up quickly, intent on finishing my closet cleaning chores.

My name had been written on that envelope by a hand long since left dormant in the grave when she went to live with Jesus. Just the sight of my name, so often written on envelopes by my husband's mother, brought a smile. She was a faithful letter writer and card sender.

I opened the envelope to discover a birthday card and in it a five dollar bill. 

More precious to me this morning than the card or money is the reminder of a valuable lesson.  We have the opportunity to leave a legacy to those we love long after we have left this earth. We begin the habits that create that legacy today.  

When I live a well-ordered life, I leave a legacy of hope, strength and purpose. When I live by God's Word I leave a legacy of grace, love and wisdom. Countless young mothers, bless them so dearly, are easily sidetracked into frustration by the yet-again full sink of dishes, the pile of yet-again dirty clothes and the obstacle course of life scattered across their living room. 

That moment you spend reading a book to your three year old, changing the diaper of your toddler and listening to your 10 year old tell yet-again a funny joke. That moment is your holy habit that will leave a legacy. 

And it matters. It matters so much more than you take time to realize. That song you sing, that smile you wear, that soft answer turning away anger. Eternal legacies, every one.

Collecting Happy Moments

"I like it when we work together," Katherynn said.  "It makes it fun.  Like a sunshiney day dancing in the breezes.  Like eating a candy cane on a Friday."

I laughed. "You're a silly little five year old woman."

"I feel happy," she said. "Do you feel happy?"

I nodded, stepping back with her to view our work. "No streaks on this window. Good job, Katie Kat."

"Good job to both of us," she agreed. "Let's read a book to celebrate. But first let's finish making our soup. I'll carry the cleaner and you carry the rags."

Life moments. How many will I get with Katherynn?  Moments to lick grape popsicles. Moments with chubby fingers dipped in frosting.  Moments of tying blue ribbons into long golden strands of hair. Moments painting tiny pink fingernails. A limited number of moments.

Katherynn tucked bare toes against me and snuggled beneath the old blue quilt. "I like it best when it's just you and me and books."

I smiled into blue eyes, twinkling with the wonder of love and so fully awake to life.

"I like every moment when it's just you and me, Kat," I told her. "Every moment."

"Yes," she sighed, cuddling close. "Yes. Every moment. Now read."

The Mean Old Man

I expected him to be gentle and kind. I expected him to be wise. After all, he had been alive nearly 10 decades. 

I was six. My Aunt Evelyn had taken me on my first nursing home visit to pass out bananas and magazines. I was wearing my favorite little sailor dress and I had new blue ribbons in my hair.

I liked elderly people. My grandparents and great-grandparents as well as the older people in my neighborhood and church were familiar, trustworthy, beloved.

I can still see his face in my mind a half century later. He jerked my arm and he pinched me. Hard. I shrieked, horrified. And then he laughed. And pinched me again, bruising not only my skin, but my heart. 

Years later I felt a similar confusion looking at pictures of Nazi war criminals discovered and captured during their old age. A grandfather holding a child. A neighbor walking a dog. An old man in the market.

Not everyone gets character lines as they age. Some people just get wrinkled...and meaner. Roots of bitterness dig deep and we reap what we have sown. 

I expect to be gentle and kind. I expect to be wise. But as I age, I can already see the struggle it is to hold my tongue, to control my spirit, to become God's best version of me. Just expecting it is not enough. It's not nearly enough.

A Bowl of Oatmeal

"Who taught you how to make oatmeal?" Katherynn asks. "Are we going to have walnuts and raisins in it? I like brown sugar in mine. I don't think I want apples in it today. Is that cinnamon? Because I like cinnamon. Do you like stirring oatmeal? It looks fun."

For Katherynn life is standing still for this moment, this learning time.  I stir oatmeal as she snuggles close, watching, memorizing my motions as if I were creating a symphony rather than making breakfast.

It is only this moment that exists for her, the moment to be savored, remembered. This five year old is a sponge, soaking in love and life one moment at a time.

When did oatmeal become a forgotten wonder? When did life and love become forgotten wonders?

I smile and hug Katherynn close. "I do like stirring oatmeal. Making breakfast for a little girl is one of the most fun things I get to do."

She grins and I let her spoon hot oatmeal into green bowls. "It's pretty, isn't it? And we can decorate it now!"

We can see the beauty in a simple bowl of oatmeal. A simple moment shared. A moment of life noticed, treasured, recorded in the memory of a little girl.

Walking Like Maisy

In January I set aside this year for an evaluation of my life so far. What should I change physically, spiritually and mentally? What needs to be done as I get older to ensure a strong finish to my life?

I am entering the second half of my life while Maisy is walking into her first half of life. As I learn to walk strong spiritually, she is learning to walk strong physically.

A few months ago she needed to grasp my hand before walking a few steps. Later she dared to walk alone, confident as long as she could see me within her reach. She toddled slowly, carefully. There were so many obstacles to knock her off balance. She still stumbles and falls down every day.

Sometimes I release my grip on the hand of God and take a few steps on my own. I do pretty well as long as I keep Him in sight. I know how to walk. It's just that there are so many obstacles to knock me off balance. I still stumble and fall down every day.

Maisy is not distracted by the stumbles, puzzled perhaps, even frustrated, but her determination never wavers. She knows where she wants to go and she intends to get there, even if a hard tumble brings pain and disappointment.

She walks with confidence. She walks with courage. I want be just like her when I grow up.

Pumpkin Latte

2 cups of milk - I use 2% milk, but choose whatever you like, even soy or almond milk.
3-4 Tablespoons canned pumpkin - Choose more or less to adjust flavor.
2 teaspoons vanilla - You may also want to add other flavorings such as almond or maple.
1-2 teaspoons of pumpkin pie spice

Heat in a pan and serve as a hot drink.

Add to coffee at whatever ratio you prefer.  I like mine with a lot of coffee and a few splashes of latte. Others like it mostly latte with a few splashes of coffee.

Whipped Cream on top is optional, but looks quite charming sprinkled with pumpkin pie spice. Children especially enjoy stirring with a cinnamon stick or melting chocolate sprinkles on top.

Refrigerate and drink cold or reheat for a breakfast treat next morning.

Nathanael's favorite way to drink this is with "a big ol' pumpkin chocolate chip muffin". I like it with my morning toast covered with pumpkin butter.

Let Faith Arise

Even with a joyful heart and a mind set on things above, you can find yourself in the midst of a life storm. 

Tossed about in disappointments  you scramble for balance. Circumstances overwhelm. Fear takes a hold. Suddenly you begin to sink into the dark waves that are pulling you down.


It is when we are bruised by failure and loss that the good stuff happens. We look upward for wisdom and help. We cannot save ourselves. To overcome disappointing loss, we have to fight for a faith that overcomes our circumstances.

Peter was new to a relationship with the God who walked on earth, the God who walked on water. The Bible tells us that God called him out of the safety of a boat and into the storm to walk alongside Him on the water. God called and Peter courageously followed Him into a wild world where storms rage high and darkness overwhelms. 

"The secret to surviving the storm is Christ in me, " Elisabeth Eliot writes, "not me in a different set of circumstances."  


When Peter glanced at his circumstances, he began to sink. When He grabbed on to the hand of God, he was able to rise above the dark raging waters. Joy and opportunity waited for Peter if only he would grasp the hand of God, rise above his circumstances and walk by faith not by sight.