This is a picture of my family of choice taken in my parent's home one year ago today. Cora said to me, "WOW mom, I can sure tell by looking at this picture that you have lost a lot of weight this year." HOW SWEET THOSE WORDS ARE TO ME!! It's been a year of major changes for me and this one is the sweetest. I have learned that I do NOT have to take solace in eating every time that I am upset. I've been learning that there are far better ways to comfort myself than eating--things like: playing piano; doing BodyTalk on myself; writing here on my blog; taking a soak in my whirlpool; or you could say, "Taking time to smell the roses!"
Today is my birthday and I am 52 years old!!! I got my biggest birthday wish come true too!!! If you are a "Christmas baby," you'll understand how wonderful it is to just be at home with your family and enjoy your birthday without all of the "Fussing" over Christmas going on all around you.
Actually, we were supposed to be down in Eureka today but the Lord "Just happened to" arrange a blizzard which "Forced" us to stay at home. I am soooooooooo glad as it sounds like there is more than one storm brewing down there. Please keep my family of origin in your prayers today as today has the potential to be a turning point for all of us. Frankly, it didn't get off to the best of starts but GOD CAN DO ANYTHING. Actually you can keep our family in your prayers, too, if you have any extra prayer time available today. ;) I try VERY hard not to let the negativity from my first family creep into my second family. I haven't been successful at this most years, ESPECIALLY at this time of year, but I'm doing better now!
Well, as promised, here is today's portion of Ethel's Amazing Umbrella. I love you all and pray that the warmth of God's love fills your heart wherever you are and with whomever you are. :)
Hugs and prayers,
Dawn
CHAPTER THREE
Their spiritual differences really came to a head about three years ago, when the Reverend Thompson used Easter Sunday, of all times, to preach a message on Noah and the flood. His title was, "Noah's Amazing Umbrella". Being Easter, Ethel was there, all decked out in a new outfit acquired at Edmond's Elite Dress Shop up in Breezeville, about a half a day away (the way the Simpson's old Rambler rambled) But Ethel left the service that Easter colored with a bit more red than she came with, the color coming from the anger that surfaced in her face at the way the good Parson talked about "coping with life".
The crux of his message was that Noah went through the storms of life safely because he had that amazing umbrella called faith. That umbrella, he went on, was to protect him from the harm of the storm, even though he had to pass through the storm to do God's will. The Reverend ended his message by asking, "What kind of umbrella do you have to weather the storms of life?" He went on to say, without apology, that if you haven't asked Jesus Christ to come into your life, when those storms really begin to come, you're going to find that your umbrella of self-reliance has a hole in it, and unless you trade it in for one of "God's Amazing Umbrellas", you'll never be able to weather life's storms. He got a few "amens" and some positive comments after the service, but Ethel Simpson wouldn't so much as look at him, and on the way home from church that day, Grandpa Billy got an earful from his perfectly dressed, but definitely out of sorts companion.
"Just who does he think he is, prescribing Jesus like a pill for hard times?" she almost shrieked in Billy's ear. "You Christians don't have a corner on strength. Strength comes from the will. You can't hang that one on God."
Grandpa was almost excited that the Parson had touched on a raw nerve. At least there was some evidence that she was wrestling with rejecting what he'd said. That, he surmised, was progress. Another thing really made an impact on Gramps. She had said, "You Christians," implying that she didn't categorize herself as "one of those" even though she met all the criteria (based on her own concept of "good works").
You see, one of Ethel's struggles with this "born over" stuff was that she had lived such a "good" life, she couldn't imagine needing to be saved from anything. She didn't lie, didn't have bad habits, didn't cuss, drink, smoke, or chew. She'd been a nearly perfect mother, a loving wife, a diligent citizen, and a hard worker. She'd rescued her brothers and sisters from the brink of nothingness, and lifted them to the category of productive, useful citizens. Oh, she could see some psychological advantage to a religious experience for the "down and outer", but not for the do-gooders like herself. She could see maybe a savior for sinners, but by her standards at least, a sinner she definitely wasn't.
But Ethel's main gripe with the Reverend's theology was this "amazing umbrella" stuff, that indicated that there was a need in life for someone else to live your life for you, and enable you to become what he kept callin' "more than conquerors."
Ethel fancied herself a conqueror, and she had done it all with sheer will power. "I've got my own umbrella," she shouted into Billy's ear as they drove up the long cobblestone driveway to their ranch style house, "And my umbrella's got no holes in it. My umbrella does just fine in a storm, just fine," she murmured. "That parson's tryin' to make us into helpless cripples who have to depend on God for the breath we breathe," she went on. "God helps those who help themselves," she ranted in arrogant tones, now, once more inscribing the trademark of her theology as a postscript for her sermonette.
Grandpa had a good answer. "You've got a mighty fine umbrella, Ethel," he acknowledged, "a mighty fine umbrella. You've weathered some tough ones without so much as gettin' wet. I reckon', however, that some day you just might get into a storm that your umbrella can't handle. Then maybe you'll get the gist of what the good pastor's been sayin'." With that he gave her a big bear hug and headed for the kitchen, and the roast and potatoes, the aroma of which had been captivating his attention since before they left for church.
Of course, Ethel wasn't through discussing the ramifications of the good pastor's "do-nothin'" theology, but she decided not to let it ruin a perfectly good forty-year-plus marriage. Instead, she used Alexander Graham Bell's instrument of communication the next morning to lay an earful on her patient, but converted friend, Melba Peabody.
Melba listened, the way an exceptional friend would, then finally, used the same approach as Billy, simply acknowledging that up until now at least, Ethel did indeed have an amazing umbrella. "There just might come a time," she cautiously concluded, "when you'll come to understand just what it is the good parson's talking about." Then, with the finesse of a skilled surgeon, she carefully guided the conversation into less controversial areas, and a detailed discussion of the hat Pearl Anderson had the gall to wear on Easter Sunday. At last, they had something they could agree upon again. The hat was atrocious. End of confrontation number one.
But it wasn't the end of the subject. Far from it.
Nearly every week, something seemed to happen that was a bit unpleasant. Like the time the penicillin didn't arrive at the pharmacy on time, and the Merkins' kids had the flu, and Ethel had to drive through blinding snow to Cloverdale and get some more. The car broke down, she had a flat, had to walk two miles in the snow for help, and still got back with the penicillin in time. "My umbrella seemed to hold just fine," she quipped to Melba the next morning. "No prayers, no Bible verses, no divine intervention," she went on, almost gleefully. "You can do what you have to do if you just believe you can," she concluded.
Melba was biting her tongue so hard she almost had to call Doc Forsythe to stop the bleeding, but graciously she simply responded, "You've got an amazing umbrella, Ethel, an amazing umbrella, indeed."
This kind of conversation sort of became the norm between these two old friends as the days passed into months and finally into years since that incredible Christmas day in Forest Grove. Ethel would chide Melba with every stroke of her self-reliant success, and Melba would quietly respond, "Amazing umbrella you've got, Ethel, simply amazing." But Melba was praying all the while that God would either expose Ethel to the true state of her self-righteous covering, or allow her to experience a storm her umbrella couldn't handle.
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CHAPTER FOUR
Ethel, of course, dreaded Christmas. It meant more work at the store, more work at home, and worst of all that horrendous birthday party at the Pharmacy on Christmas afternoon.
It would've seemed all right in a third grade Sunday school class in the Bible belt, but for grown men and women in a sophisticated little eastern village to stand around singing, "Happy Birthday to Jesus," and "Happy Birthday to Grandpa," and "Happy Birthday" to this one and that one on into the night, seemed at best a bit childish and unnecessary. And oh, that "testimony time" as they called it; if that wasn't the longest part of Christmas day. All those supposedly mature grownups tellin' how Jesus led them to a certain job, or how Jesus helped them make it through some crisis (as though they couldn't have done it without Him).
She had to admit everyone else sure had a good time. It was like the whole town (in fact the whole county) waited all year for Grandpa Billy's Birthday party at Christmas. Folks would come for miles around to sing Christmas carols, eat birthday cake, and talk about Jesus and all that stuff. It was the highlight of the year for most of Forest Grove. Melba practically lived for the day. But for Ethel it was the longest day she had to suffer through. She was always there, makin' the punch, cuttin' the cake, and disappearin' into the back when the Jesus stories got a little heavy for her to handle.
So as December 24th rolled around and Grandpa's "fifth Birthday party" loomed on the horizon, Ethel Simpson once again faced the holidays with mixed emotions.
It's now about noon on Christmas eve, and the activity level at Grandpa Bill's Palace has reached a fevered pitch. Wall to wall "helpers" are busy stacking chairs, moving displays, putting up "Happy Birthday to" banners, and in general making it impossible for Ethel to count out 12 "somethin'-myacin" tablets to fill the prescription Doc Forsythe wrote out for Annabelle Foster's ten-year-old (the one with the strep throat).
"I can't run a business with this infernal partyin' goin' on," she muttered, thinking, of course, no one could hear.
"Careful, Ethel, your umbrella's startin' to leak," Melba Peabody whispered. Melba had been standin' right behind her on a ladder and just happened to hear the soulful murmuring of her agitated friend. "Just kiddin', Melba, just kiddin'," Ethel quickly replied, not wanting a short fuse to give anyone the wrong idea about her "more-than- adequate" umbrella of patience.
Melba smiled, and added softly, "Of course," and continued her somewhat unwelcome assistance in the banner-hanging department.
About that time, young Sergeant O'Reilly, the clean-cut chap who served as state trooper in this neck of the woods came rushing through the door, so out of breath it took a minute or two for his Irish brogue and his huffin' and puffin' to begin to march to the same cadence so anyone could understand what he was saying.
"Big storm up at Marble Creek," he finally shouted, "Two houses blown down, three people missin', and the river's about to go out of its banks. I need some volunteers. I need at least ten willing men to help me with a rescue operation. I know it's Christmas eve, but we'll be back by sundown," the excited trooper went on. He was desperately trying not to show that he was panicking under pressure, but to most everyone around, it was obvious that on a scale of 1 to 10, his emotions were up somewhere around eleven and a half.
"I'll go," Brad Everson responded quickly, "Count me in." "Me too," Sonny Whitman chimed in. Soon Rob Severenson, Cal Brown, and Grandpa Billy joined the brigade, and before long, there were ten assorted volunteers piling in the long, stake bed pickup parked in front of the drug store (the one with the blue state trooper emblem faded, but still visible on the doors).
Somehow, Grandma Ethel breathed a sigh of relief. She hated to see everyone leave, especially for such a sad assignment on Christmas Eve, yet as the ranks thinned out in the drug store, it was as though she had room to breathe again, and with Grandpa down the road, doin' his duty as a volunteer, it left her in charge of the goin's on at the Pharmacy, and "Maybe," she thought, "I can restore a little order to the preparations for this 'birthday bash'." (And restore a little order, she did.)
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