Author: delilalumbardy@gmail.com

How many times do we take the time or thoughtfulness to compliment a total stranger? I know I don’t do it nearly enough. Often, I will say something nice to the clerk that checks me out at the grocery store, or the neighbor that lives two streets over when we meet at the mailboxes. But, I’m not talking about those we’ve seen in passing before and may again. I’m thinking of the person we will likely never see again; where we give a compliment and have nothing to gain from it. I tend to pass these people by, without much regard to what their world looks like.

This last week, however, I had such an encounter. I was traveling back to Spearfish from the family ranch in Nebraska. I nearly always stop at the gas station/McDonald’s on my way through Valentine, NE. As I made my way to the McDonald’s counter to order an iced tea, I noticed the elderly lady with a powder blue sweatshirt sitting at a table. Her blue eyes, the same color as her sweatshirt, stood out like the red door on a white church. The color popped, reminding me of my Dad’s kind, blue eyes.

I gathered my iced tea and headed for the door, ready to get on the road again. As I stepped down off the curb in front of my vehicle, I noticed the elderly lady a few steps behind me. I’m sure my words surprised her as much as they did me.

“You have the prettiest eyes,” I said. She looked startled at first that I had spoken and then her lips turned into a generous, gracious smile. It came as close to “lighting up a face” that I have ever seen.

In the next few minutes, I was welcomed into her world. Before the few minutes were over, I knew she had lost two sons in her 79 years of living. She lived in Missouri most of her life, but her “now” husband was claustrophobic and the Missouri landscape (even though he hid his affliction well) bothered him immensely. On a road trip to the Nebraska Sandhills to see family ten years ago, he excitedly exclaimed, “No trees!” They had made the decision then, that Valentine would be their new home. They never looked back and when I asked if they were glad they had moved, she answered, “Oh yes.”

After she shared a few more ups and downs of life, I wrapped my arm around her and squeezed. “Life is hard, but God is good,” I summarized. She nodded.

As I drove north out of Valentine, I wondered about the visit with the woman. Could it have been a divine appointment? The way her face lit up and her willingness to accept a hug, seemed to indicate it could have been. Psalms 37:23 says: When Yahweh delights in how you live your life, He establishes your every step.(The Passion Translation) According to S. Joseph Kidder, a professor of Christian Ministry, God arranges, and establishes the details of His children’s lives, including some unexpected divine appointments.

The meeting refreshed me, too. My heart felt good that total strangers could share smiles and some life experiences in a few brief moments when both are willing. I had been wrong – I gained something too, from giving a compliment to someone I would likely never see again. One thing we didn’t share were our names. It seemed there were more important purposes for this conversation than name exchanges. Divine appointments are like that.

Until next time – “keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.”

Sometimes God seems to have a sense of humor when teaching us things. He seems to think it’s great fun to turn the tables to make a point. At least he does it that way in my life. I think He knows that will get my attention and that’s exactly what happened to me this week. But before I tell you what happened, I need to give you some back story.

When I was working in small hospitals, where I profess that nurses are jacks of all trades but masters of none, my assignment would sometimes be labor and delivery. Throughout the years, I heard some creative names given to babies. There were the cute and clever names like Winter Storm, Rocky Cliff, and Forest Green. Other parents might name their kids after their favorite place to vacation such as Phoenix, Dakota, Brooklyn, and Austin. Some name them after favorite characters in their favorite novel. I know a little boy who’s name is Attichus from the book “To Kill A Mockingbird” and his sister’s name is Harper -the author of the same book. Some parents like to stick to a pattern such as giving their children all “J” names or “D” names.

These are just harmless, fun ways for parents to name a baby. But, I’ve wondered at the harmlessness of certain names, especially those that babies have to share with famous, non-reputable characters. For instance – the name Cain comes to mind – the first murderer in the Bible. And there’s Jezebel – the Israelite queen known for wickedness and vileness. And yes, I’ve known babies with these names. I honestly confess that I’ve had “attitude” with these parents and even shared my attitude about it with co-workers.

Fast forward to this week. I’m playing pickle-ball at the city’s outdoor courts. All six courts are full and Paul and I have drawn a “bye”. We grab our water bottles and sit on the bench beside Court One. Byes are often the only time to engage in chit-chat during the fast paced games. We use “bye time” to learn something about each other and share snippets of our personal lives. (We have less than 15 minutes.) Paul, being a direct kind of guy, didn’t waste any time.

“Of all the biblical names your folks could have named you, why did they name you DeLila?” It made me pause. I’ve always liked my name; an uncommon first name that balanced out my most common maiden name – Smith. And I always felt it was special to have been named after a favorite aunt. But Paul obviously thought of it just like I thought of Cain or Jezebel. Come to think of it, other than being persistent and relentless in a greed hungry scheme to unearth the secret of Samson’s strength, I can’t think of another reputable characteristic that Delilah owned.

Once recovered from Paul’s uninhibited question, I gave him an answer, I told him the story of my name. “I have an Aunt LeVila and my parents wanted to name me in honor of her. But to avoid confusion by having the very same name (she was LeVila Smith – married to my Dad’s brother) they named me DeLila.” I added a quick thought, “My middle name is Ruth – does that balance things out?”

Paul didn’t answer; just smiled. But, as I left the court that day, calling out my usual, “See everyone on Tuesday,” Paul called after me, “Bye, Ruth!”

“Okay, God…I get it,” I thought reflectively as I walked to the car. I’ll keep my attitude and opinions to myself about non-reputable names. Isn’t God a clever One?

Until next time – keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

I have a beautiful butterfly quilt made by my great-grandmother, Minnie Schultz, and I have the kerosene lamp that hung in their kitchen. These mean a great deal to me, because I remember my great -grandmother. She was a seamstress and I can imagine how she sat many hours beneath that lamp, hand-stitching many quilts – just like the two my sister and I have in our homes now. She found this a good way of using up scraps of fabric she had collected over the years as she sewed for those in her small community. I have chosen to display them in my home rather than to box them up and protect them to leave for the next generation.

They will mean more to me than anyone that follows because I had relationship with her. I am reminded of her sweet smile, her deaf ears, and her love of flowers whenever I glance at these two keepsakes. What could those that never knew her possibly think of when looking upon them?

In the book, Imagine Heaven, (New York Times Bestseller) author John Burke states, “Most of us don’t know the names of our great or great-great grandmothers and grandfathers. That’s only three or four generations removed from us, and we owe them our lives – yet they’ve already been forgotten. Even if they’ve been remembered, most names will be forgotten within a hundred years, and all will be forgotten eventually. Yet we all want to be remembered.”

In this same book that recounts numerous near death experiences, Dr. Richard Eby who plunged two stories headfirst to the sidewalk below after a railing gave way, recalls the first words the Lord said to him. “Dick, your dead!” This was a name that only his family and close friends called him. Dr. Eby believes this shows the intimacy the Lord has with those He created. When Dr. Eby asked the Lord why he called him “Dick”, the Lord answered, “When I died for you on the cross, it was a most intimate thing.”

Dr. Eby spent ten hours as a lifeless corpse, but he states that he never forgot how personally he is known and loved. Oh! If we could all have that wonderful assurance! It doesn’t seem so important to be remembered here on earth when we know how blessedly loved and remembered we are going to be in eternity.

There are many, many scripture verses about God’s love for us. One of my favorites is Zephaniah 3:17. The LORD your God is in your midst, A Warrior who saves. He will rejoice over you with joy; He will be quiet in His love (making no mention of your past sins), He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy. (Amplified Version) It tells us twice how much He rejoices over us. That’s to emphasize the importance of it and to make sure we hear it. Just as we would treat a most valued friend, He likes to spend time with us. He creates calmness with his love – never rubbing our sins in our face. And last but not least – He fights to save us. I can’t think of a better description of love.

How comforting it is to be reminded that we will NEVER be forgotten and always loved by the one that created us. He calls us by our most intimate names.

Until next time – keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

Even though I was only eight years old, I remember that first time my conscience bothered me. Just the fact that I still remember it this many years later, attests to the impact it had on me. Mom had come to me and said she had a question. I followed her into my parent’s bedroom on the upper level of our old farmhouse. She pointed to a small burned area on the top of their blond dresser.

“DeLila, can you tell me anything about this?”

I was caught off guard. I had no idea that my shenanigans a couple of days earlier had left a burned area, the size of a nickel. But then, I remembered the kitchen door had squeaked and I had thrown the match down and ran lickity split to my room. My stomach somersaulted at Mom’s question. I panicked. My parents were fair disciplinarians but maybe there was a way out of discipline all together. Almost before I knew it, I had lied. I wouldn’t say it came easy…but it spilled out, none the less.

“No, maybe Dave knows,” I said faster than it takes to strike a match. ( I would know.) My hope was that Mom would consider my suggestion seriously and go in search of Dave, leaving me a way to escape, never to be found again.

But, of course, Dave didn’t know anything. I had intentionally performed my crime so that no one would see me. Dad was in the field; Mom and Dave were in the garden. Connie was napping in her crib. I knew the squeaky kitchen door would function as an alert system for anyone coming into the house.

My parents may have suspected that I had lied, but they didn’t press the issue. I guess you could say I got away with it. But, I didn’t feel like I had gotten away with anything. Punishment from my parents was withheld, but my mind failed to let me forget what I had done. Not only had I put our house in jeopardy, but now I had lied on top of it. I had nightmares that the house burned down. I imagined that my parents didn’t love me as much anymore, because they suspected I’d lied. Shame and guilt took residence in my little eight year old heart.

Unfortunately, maintaining a clear conscience is not just a child problem. Temptations are always knocking at our doors. As adults we can be tempted to lie on our taxes, cheat on our spouses, accept the extra change the clerk gives back, stretch the truth on our resumes, watch movies we know corrupt our minds, and who knows what else. We pay a price for these things.

Charles Spurgeon, the great 1800’s English preacher makes this appeal: Never sacrifice your conscience. Lose all rather than to lose your integrity, and when all else is gone, still hold fast to a clear conscience as the rarest jewel that can adorn the human heart.

I certainly sacrificed my conscience the day I lied. I didn’t know at that age what to do about it, once it was done. But Healthline.com recommends that I would have been better off if I had followed these steps:

1. Taken responsibility for what I did.
2. Expressed remorse and regret without letting it turn into shame.
3. Committed to making amends for any harm I caused.
4. Practiced self-acceptance and trusted myself to do better in the future.

Although I am not proud of how I handled that situation, the experience did provide me with valuable insight into what was important to me. I never wanted to succumb to a temptation again that would pave a path to experience the emotions of guilt and shame that caused me so much turmoil. I don’t think it’s out of line to say that the experience I had as an eight year old formed a large portion of my character today.

It’s freeing to me to know I can learn from my mistakes and I can actually become a better person because of them. Not all is lost if I don’t waste the experience.

Until next time – keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

That gem that Charles Spurgeon speaks about is a very precious stone.

Three weeks ago when I wanted to schedule another chiropractic appointment, I was told they couldn’t schedule at that time because the computer system was down. Eventually, when more than a week had passed and the computer system was still down, they began scheduling the old fashioned way.

This Sunday when folks arrived at our church they were told the electricity was off across most of the town and would likely not be up again until late morning. It took some thought of how to proceed with church without the convenience and familiarity of electricity. The children in the pre-kindergarten class were elated when told their class would be held outside since their classroom had no windows. Microphones, of course, didn’t work so we “cozied” together in the front of the sanctuary – without our filled coffee cups, I might add. The band instrumentation was reduced to an acoustic guitar and we sang the good old songs we knew from heart. I found it to be reflective of how it might have been for my grandparents and great-grandparents to have worshiped.

Both of these situations can remind us that we are not in control. Even though some would like to be, none of us really are. Did we have anything to say about when we arrived in this world? Will we have anything to say about the day we will depart?

And think about the seasons – do we order the first snow or the first bud to appear on the apple tree in the backyard? Which leaf will be the first to turn red on the maple tree and what day will the tomatoes be ready to harvest? We are humbled when we realize we have no control over any of these things.

Our peace and security however, does not come from being in control. That’s only a facade at best. The person that barks loudest may like you to believe they are in control, but in reality, they are no more so than the meek one. The One that sculpted the universe, orders the seasons, and loves you and me as if we were the only one to love is in control. Peace does not come from us thinking we are in control – true peace comes only by having Jesus in our hearts and knowing the One that is sovereign over all things. Tonight we can sleep restfully knowing He lovingly carries us through every season we enter.

I’ve been carrying you on my back from the day you were born, And I’ll keep on carrying you when you’re old. I’ll be there, bearing you when you’re old and gray. I’ve done it and will keep on doing it, carrying you on my back, saving you. Isaiah 46:4 (MSG).

Until next time, keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.