BY THE WAY, I LOVE YOU!”

 By Michael L. Alumbaugh © 2024

“Behold, you are beautiful, my love; behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves eyes.” ~ Song of Solomon 1:15

My Bride of 40+ years and I were doing some last minute grocery shopping in the late afternoon one day in mid-February. As we wandered through the store we observed men, mostly young to middle-aged, hustling and bustling up one isle and down another. As we passed by the nearly customer packed floral department, it finally occurred to us what was going on. It was the evening of the 14^th_, Valentine’s Day!

The department staff looked a bit frazzled as they assisted all these men with their bouquet selection. The stock was dwindling rapidly! There wasn’t a man there that looked starry eyed or even joyful at the opportunity to embrace a loving present proclaiming their love and devotion to their  “significant other.” It was like “Let’s getter done and get out’a here!” or “Hey, that’ll do. Just hand it over!”

We had to laugh as we left the area. Thankfully I’d gotten something for my wife a day or two before and had presented it to her at breakfast, as was my custom. Sometimes I’d even give her something the day before, especially if an event were included for the “day of.”

I felt a bit sad for the guys out there.. We men do get a bit busy with the day to day work grind and forget things, even important things. But it seemed to me, this wasn’t a priority with most them judging by the expressions on their faces. It was just a duty to perform to fill in the blank, and very little if any heart in it. They appeared to be about as romantic, or impassioned toward their wives as a sore toe. Like they’re saying, “Oh, by the way, I love you!” and off they go to something else, leaving her in the dust.

What they seemed to lack was devotion, or a heart of genuine gratitude toward their life partners, better known as their Brides.    It isn’t an unusual problem but rather a rather common one that goes back thousands of years. In the years following Jesus Christ’s crucifixion, the Apostle Paul in Ephesians 5 points out this weakness by reflecting it against Jesus’ commitment to all of us. It reads;

 “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish.” Ephesians 5:25-27

Proverbs 18:22 says, “The man who finds a wife finds a treasure, and he receives favor from the Lord.” Now, that strikes me as a strong motive for thinking ahead! But it begs the question: What do you treasure? Does she see it in you on a daily basis or just occasionally when your back is up against the wall?

We might need to rethink our commitment to our eternal Father in the same way. Do we treasure things more than our relationship with Him? He left the glory of heaven, became and man, and died for your sins (Philippians 2:5-8). Or do we just warm the pews on Sunday or Easter and Christmas as our way of saying "By the way, I love you!"?

Are you doing the same thing to your spouse or willing to show your love to them moment by moment, day in and day out?

     Dig a Little Deeper: Song of Solomon 4:7, 5:12; Malachi 2:13-15; 1 Peter 3:7

Published in the March 2024 issue of Black River Times

 

"SNOW ANGELS!"

  By Michael L. Alumbaugh © 2024

 

“Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility consider one another as more important than yourselves; Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others.” ~ Philippians 2:3-4

 It was the first week into January! We’d come home in rain mixed with snow the night before, which isn’t unusual for Kansas. As the old saying goes, “If you don’t like the weather in Kansas, wait a little bit and it will change.” And it did. During the night the wind blew and the soggy flakes hitting the windows left over 3 inches of snow on everything and below zero blustery conditions by morning.

 Once it was daybreak, I took in the exquisite beauty. Everything was coated in white fluffy ice covered snow. But that meant the driveway needed clearing. I suited up in thermals, jeans, a warm thick sweater, swung a wool scarf around my neck, pulled on my coat, some gloves and ball cap, then headed out the front door.

 The wind had stilled. All was quiet. The snow glistened in the early morning sunlight. Pure white made everything look fresh and new. I grabbed my snow shovel and a broom and went to work.

 Within a few minutes my fingers were numb. I’d grabbed the wrong gloves. Returning to the house to warm up again and switch gloves, I was greeted by the sounds and smells of my wife cooking in the kitchen; the crackling of bacon frying, pancakes and eggs cooking away, and some much needed warmth.

 After a lengthy search, I found some warmer gloves and scooted back out to shovel more snow. As I finished around the cars, my son showed up with a shovel and broom in hand and began clearing off the vehicles. Within a few minutes we had pretty well opened a path to get out if necessary. Our next-door neighbors were busy clearing their drive as well. Exchanging greetings and small talk, they’d said the highways were closed and they wouldn’t be going to work, but were both on call..

 Placing my attention back on our drive,  I concentrated on the last bits of scrapping the snow into the street, As I finished I noticed the neighbors had disappeared. Then, my son. Looking around, I spotted them all headed across the street to another neighbors house to clear out her drive.

 She was a widowed lady and had a few health issues, though she seldom outwardly showed any signs of struggle with them. During the summer you’d see her out mowing or gardening, pruning her bushes or walking her dogs. But today there’d been no sign of any activity from her. I joined in the labors of love clearing her drive, assuming she must be gone.

 The four of us laughed and chatted away as we flung shovel loads of snow off the drive. Weary from a job well-done, we headed to our homes for a much needed warm up and hot breakfast.

 Once our sufficiency was suffonsified by the hearty breakfast, we set about doing our daily chores; washing dishes, sorting clothes, etc. After about an hour or so the doorbell rang. My son answered as I continued drying dishes. Hearing a stranger’s voice, I wandered over to see who it was. It was our neighbor lady all bundled up from across the street.

 “I just came over to thank you all for clearing my driveway.” she said, smiling. “You are all so special! I was thinking of you all as “Snow Angels.”” And with that, she reached out, handed my son a Tupperware bowl, turned and walked home.

 As he closed the door, I asked, “What was that all about?”

 “That was the lady we scrapped the driveway for.” He opened the lid. It was a fresh baked batch of chocolate peanut butter oatmeal cookies. I took the bowl and set it on the kitchen counter. They were still warm. As my son dug in I stepped to the front window to see where she’d gone. There she was, at our next door neighbor’s handing them a batch of cookies and returning to her house.

 Her gesture of kindness warmed not only our tummies but our hearts. It reminded me of Jesus instructions in Matthew 6:4, “[Give in such a way that] your charitable deed may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will Himself reward you openly.” Indeed, He had! Be a snow angel and remember, God our Father always rewards sincere selflessness in reaching out to others in need.

 

     Dig a Little Deeper: Proverbs 3:27, 11:25; Matthew 6:1; Colossians 3:23-24

 Published in the February 2024 issue of Black River Times

"BURN IT!”

 By Michael L. Alumbaugh © 2024

“If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned” ~ John 15:6

Ah, yes, the smell of wood burning and the comfort of a couple holding hands while snuggling up by a cozy crackling log fire to warm their home and their heart. There’s nothing better than that on a cold winter’s night. . . . But that’s not the way it was.

Instead, I’d had to fell a 30 foot white pine that we’d planted over 20 years ago next to our home. It was dying. The needles were constantly collecting in the rain gutters and burying the newly planted lawn. The lawn died as well and had to be replanted, so the tree had to go.

I didn’t have a chainsaw. I only had a couple 30” hand bow tree saws, an axe and a hand tree pole saw to bring it down and chop it up. Even with my Bride tugging on a rope tied to various branches during the process, I still managed to drop limbs over the fence into our neighbor’s yard.  I’d damaged a couple boards in his privacy fence in the process, but he was kind. We got the limbs removed from his yard and the fence repaired without cost.

Now, all was left was eliminating the dead wood from my yard. As before, on two other pine trees in the same area that had died, I pulled out my two patio burners and began chopping the branches into smaller lengths to burn.

I gathered the various dried sticks, pine needles and smaller limbs until I had a good armload. Then, I carried them to the burners and began tossing them into the fire. After an hour or so, I noticed the pile growing smaller and the ashes getting deeper. With each load I felt a greater sense of relief that the thing plaguing our lounge area would soon be gone and forgotten.

It was then that the Lord Jesus opened my spiritual eyes. As I tossed another stick into the flames, the fire roared, consuming the dead branch, turning it to ash, or “Dust. “ He asked me, “Have you been fruitful for me in your past or will it all be turned to ash and dust?” I paused, reflecting on my life. “Was there anything I’d valued and invested in, or struggled with secretly, that was dead and gone or was it still alive and well?”

With each toss of dead debris, another thought occurred; that stick in my hand was my past struggle with setting my eyes/mind on things I shouldn’t. I tossed it into the fire. It was dead. Now it’s burned! The next stick was my struggle with acceptance. It was dead and I committed it to the fire. And the next was regarding my providing for my family and future, and so on and so forth, stick after stick. The list seemed endless.

All those were chains of my past, the ones Satan has so easily ensnared me in; I’d been destroying their hold on me, with the Lords help. Here they were, burning up in front of me. I committed them to the Lord one stick at a time, one toss at a time. I was being transformed over time to be the man Christ wanted me to be. Those old chains that haunted me were now being broken. I was free. That’s true freedom!

But the question still lingers; what tree am I, or will be, known by? What fruit have I produced? (John 15:5-6) What will I be confronted with when I stand before Christ? Are my new branches producing fruits of righteousness or are they more dead works? Will I be snatched from a wasted life burned to ash or will I hear “Well done good and faithful servant. Enter my rest?”

How about you? Are there things in your life needing to be eliminated, put to death, pruned and burned? With all diligence, get rid of them while you still have breath. “. . . throw off every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares you, and run with endurance the race that is set before you . . .” Hebrews 12:1

     Dig a Little Deeper: Psalm 119:11, 32, 140; Proverbs 29:1; Luke 24:5a-6a; John 15:1-11; Acts 17:30-31; Romans 6:22, 13:14; Galatians 6:7-8; Colossians 2:6-7, 3:1-17; 1 John 3:9-10

 Published in the January 2024 issue of Black River Times

“WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND . . .LOST!”

 By Michael L. Alumbaugh © 2023

“But we had to be merry and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found.’” ~ Luke 15:32

It was a wintery, Sunday, Christmas Eve. There was a light skiff of snow covering the ground but the streets were clear. We’d gathered at my Mom’s parent’s home after the church service. Dressed in our Sunday best, we celebrated Christmas early, with parents, siblings and cousins.

After a delightfully traditional family meal, we said our goodbyes. It was time for a short fifteen mile jaunt or so to my Dad’s parent’s farm for the rest of the celebrations. Mom and Dad had gone ahead to prepare for more feasting. Receiving warm wishes and Christmas cheer, my older and younger sisters and I exited our Grandma Van’s house. The snow began to fall once again, and to my surprise, my older sister handed me the keys to the ’60 Ford Galaxy announcing, “You’re driving!”

I’d just turned 16 in October and received my first driver’s license. I’d never driven in snow, but I manned up! We loaded ourselves up, and headed for the sand hills north of town where Grandma and Grandpa A’s farm was located. 

As we drove, my older sister, Sandra, sitting in front with me, turned around to chat with my little sister, Janet, in the back seat. I drove cautiously but confidently, smiling as I listened to their girlish giggles and banter.

We headed north out of town, and then turned west heading for the hills. As we traveled, the snowflakes grew bigger, fluffier and more numerous. It was a lovely countryside view with rolling hills blanketed in a mantle of white; something like a sleigh ride scene from an old movie.

With windshield wipers flapping, we journeyed on. The familiar landmarks had all but disappeared, veiled by the fresh winter cloak. [Once off the county highway, we’d be driving down sandy 2 track dirt paths for several miles, which were seldom, if ever, graded.]

“Sandra?” I asked, “Do you see where we’re supposed to turn?” I was beginning to feel a bit lost.

She turned around and stared at the road ahead. “I’m not sure. I haven’t been watching. It’s gotta be one of these roads coming up.” she replied. “Try one of the next ones!” she suggested.

The next intersection north looked slightly familiar so I turned and headed up the road. The beautiful snow glistened as it fell. It was a delightful sight with the hills and trees banking on either side. Strangely, though, there were no tire tracks to indicate any previous travelers.

Driving on, the barbwire fences bordering the sides of the “back road” drew closer and closer together until they merged into a narrow cow path. Up ahead, trees blocked the way altogether as if the road never existed! I stopped the car.

 “This can’t be the right road!”

I put the car into reverse and started backing up. As I inched backward the car slowed to a stop. A spattering sound announced I’d entered a mud hole. I tried going forward but the car wouldn’t budge. I shifted the gear lever back and forth from forward to reverse a few more times, but the car didn’t move. We were stuck!

I tried again, but this time the spattering sound stopped. I got out and had Sandra try it. Oddly, the tires weren’t moving either. Something must have broken!

“Well, now what?” I asked

“You think you could walk to Grandmas and get help? We’ll stay here in the car.” Sandra responded.

I left the car running and the heater on high. Janet said she was cold so they snuggled up together in the back seat wrapped in their coats. Pulling my suit jacket tight around me, I ventured into the scenic unknown.

I was totally unprepared for what lay ahead. Dressed as I was, Sunday suit, tie and dress shoes, I ignorantly headed for the trees where the fences joined and climbed over.

My artistic imagination took over, “Oh, wow! What a playground of white delight!” Watching those fluffy flakes gently floating down through the stillness, covering the tree-lined meadows and hills in a magnificent scenic view took my breath away. It was like a winter wonderland! The snow crunched under each step leaving deep impressions. My warm breath was a series of frosty clouds, as I pressed forward. But, the euphoric bliss was to be short lived.

As time passed, tripping lightly on before turned into wearily trudging more and more! There was nothing familiar on the horizon; no cars or houses in view, or even the sounds of livestock. There was just a lonely stillness.

I pushed forward to a destination unknown, distance unmeasured, energy dwindling. The frigid temperature had penetrated my suit jacket and my feet were wet and my hands were freezing. I increased my speed trying to raise my body temperature, but as I pressed on, the cold sapped my strength. I had no idea how much time had transpired or how much further I had to go. I kept scanning the horizon for anything familiar and warm.

Then, from a hilltop, I saw it! There in the distance was smoke wafting from a chimney surrounded by trees.  Hope sprang eternal! Little did I know, this was to be a Divine intervention.

I made my way to the house, passed by the wire fence, and entered the front gate. By this time, I could hardly stand up. Shivering from the cold, I knocked on the old front door and waited. No answer. My sense of relief began morphing into dread. I feared, “No one is home.”  I knocked again.

Soon I could hear a faint sound of someone talking as they came to the door. Doubt transformed into deliverance! My heart raced and my teeth chattered as the door was opened. I pondered the notion as to whether they would be unfriendly or welcoming.

The heat front the room blasted into my face fogging up my lens. I could hardly see the two people in front of me. Then, I heard a man’s voice. “Can I help you?”

Releasing my stress, I pointed in the direction I’d traveled and blurted, “I’m lost and my sisters are stranded somewhere back that way.”

Seeing my condition, they pulled me in, wrapped me up in a blanket, and served me a hot drink. The woman soon recognized me. It was my Grandpa’s sister and her husband. As I thawed, I explained the situation as best I could. They prepared to leave.

We squeezed into their little two-door VW and drove to my grandparents farm. Once inside the house, they relayed the details and approximate location of the girls and car. With that, Dad and the uncles gathered hats, gloves and coats, chains and tools, a car, cranked up Grandpa’s old ‘40’s green John Deere tractor and headed out.

After over an hour search, they found the stranded car with the girls tucked inside. Dad, the original DIY guy, did a quick analysis of the car. I’d blown the transmission. The uncles drove the gils back while Dad towed the car. All was well . . . at last!

Even with all the stress and expense that Christmas Eve, the next morning a thankful Merry Christmas was had by one and all!

            Dig a Little Deeper: Isaiah 35:10, 41:10; Luke 15:7, 10; John 5:25

 Published in the December 2023 issue of Black River Times