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Heaven

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

“Shleeping” in a Palace

Posted on July 10, 2024

Here we are at Polishing the Pulpit-Branson 2024! All the children, but especially Eliza Jane are so excited to be “shleeping “ in a palace. “I never shleeped in a palace afore!” I never did either and, believe me, after 12 hours in that car with those three, their mom and I were ready for some “sleep” in a palace or standing up in a barn. Literally, the question “How many more hours?” must have been asked 50 times from those back seats. Not exaggerating. It started when we were twenty minutes from the house. 

But now is the good part: blending voices, hearts, and purpose with hundreds of like-minded Christians on this hilltop, overlooking a beautiful lake. It seems, in my finite nature, to be inching toward heaven itself! 

Yesterday, on the way here, we got stuck behind a couple of auto accidents. One was an old tractor in the median that had obviously been careened hard by a larger and more modern vehicle. The helicopter was already there for the life flight. Ezra said he would lead the prayer: 

“Dear God, please help that man to be okay. Please help him to live. If he dies, please help him to be a Christian.” 

That’s the nine-year-old view of life and fatalities. That’s pretty much my view, still, except, of course, the “help” for eternal salvation, must be accessed through the blood prior to the time of the death. 

We all agreed that nothing is ultimately “bad” for the Christian. Even a horrific end to this life is not horrific for the follower of Jesus. It is better than ever. 

And that’s the hilltop on which we find ourselves, today; looking out over the promised land and knowing the sojourn is short. We find ourselves preparing, with hundreds of Christians, to bring the Father glory and honor the Son and, to find, in the Words of the Holy Spirit, strength for our journey toward the real palace of our King. 

I cannot wait, Eliza!

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

The Journey

Posted on July 7, 2024

The Journey

There’s a trip that I am taking to a sunny shore somewhere.
There are plans that I am making to be with someone who’s there.
I am packed and now departing, not another day to spurn
And I won’t look back while leaving, for I never will return.

There’s a path to travel upward that is narrow and a few
Who are looking for the same land will be pilgrims on it, too.
I have read that there’ll be times when I won’t see the way ahead,
But the Savior will sustain me while I wait, with Living Bread.

I will lay aside the weight of sin. Determined I will be
I will reach my destination where His glory waits for me.
With a will of iron I’m going, so don’t try to lure me back.
I am concentrating heav’nward, I will not be thrown off track.

There was once a path to travel up the Hill of Calvary.
And no journey I could make compares with what He did for me.
While my yoke is light, He bore a cross so I’d be reconciled
And His wounded flesh was nailed to it so I could be God’s child.

Now he waits for me beside the throne. For me, he intercedes.
He is pleading for my entry. He is touched with all my needs.
He’s prepared for me a table. There’s no evil I will fear.
For the valley’s darkness means the journey’s end is drawing near.

And I love Him for the journey.

Cindy Colley

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

Mrs. Judy Webster…Blood Kin

Posted on May 29, 2024

Judy Webster fits easily in my list of the top ten lifetime friends, and I’ve been blessed with many. She stepped over into the land to which I’m rapidly traveling where she lives, but without any of those negative repercussions of the original sin in the garden. She’s all about being there and I cannot wait to sit down with her again in that place. We did not lose Judy last week. We know right where she is. 

Judy was a great teacher. I never heard her deliver a lecture or teach a women’s class, but she could impart more wisdom over a glass of tea than most of us can include in a manuscript over which we’ve studied for months. There are a couple of major blessings in my life that still profoundly affect me; lessons that have emerged from a gentle suggestion or a resolve that we made together, Judy and I.  She, being dead, yet speaks in my everyday world of small decisions (Hebrews 11:4). 

Judy said a few things that I will never forget; little things that you don’t know are impressive in the moment, but words that keep entering your memory. The first day she walked into my house on Sweetie Lane, she looked up and all around in my open living room and said “Oh, Cindy. Now I really know you. I know why you are like you are.” Well, that could be taken lots of ways, but what Judy meant was profound. Our homes are so very descriptive of our real selves. As I’ve moved a couple of times since that day, I’ve always thought about how much this little (or big) house will reveal to people about me. That’s why Paul described us a keepers of our homes. Our homes tell secrets about our souls. If we, as Christian women, keep our homes well, we generally keep our souls, and those of our children, well.

Judy’s home in Piperton shouted to me. “There’s no pretension here. There’s a big soft chair in the living room and a glass of tea. For supper, there are green beans, picked and shelled today. We can fry fresh-caught fish and, in the dessert, there will be chocolate, because that’s what you like….And there’s time for me to listen.” There was always time. She was busy. She greeted visitors and had them over. She visited the elderly and took casseroles to the sick. She worked in our ladies community Bible study and she traveled with her husband. She had a sister who was very ill. But, still, there was always time for me. And, I know at least two hundred people who could say the same thing! Judy had time for people.

Judy was a really great laugh-er! Just don’t even get me close to her in a worship service where Sister Bea is falling into a deeper and deeper sleep and falling slowly over into the middle of the aisle from her pew, because we just can’t help snickering and we can’t stop. The breathing got heavier, the dyed blonde bob was hovering now near the floor and this sister was suddenly started by a loud and gesturing point from the pulpit and gathered herself quickly back into an upright position. (Eutychus was no less soundly sleeping than was Bea and if it wasn’t for that short end-board on the pew, we would have had a fall, without a Paul, and maybe a broken bone or two.) Just keep me and Judy separated when stuff like this happens. We could not stop.

But Judy could laugh hardest at me. Like Humpty-Dumpty, I am a great fall-er. I cannot ever forget the time, when, after going to her kitchen to refill Glenn’s tea glass, I came scurrying back to the table, took a great ski trip in my sleek-soled shoes across her shiny wood dining room floor. After skating, dancing, spilling and gyrating for about eight feet (I mean I just kept going…) for all to see, Judy tried to say “Cindy, Are you okay?” But first, the smile danced around her lips, then the wide grin that included her eyes, then tears down her face, then full upper body shaking and then…we could not stop! It was always the same. 

Like the time when the ladies at Collierville had invited me back to speak at their ladies’ day. I was so excited to see them. I got all dressed up and we went to a fancy restaurant for dinner—a whole bunch of us—the night before. The waitress, serving from behind, dropped a ranch dip-saturated salad on my head, just as dinner was beginning. Well, that little group was mortified. The waitress was extremely apologetic. But I could not look at Judy for the rest of the meal. If I ever did, she was waiting to catch my eyes under my matted bangs.  If we made eye-contact, it was over. The table would start shaking. We just could not stop.

Judy and Han

Judy was a great role model for Hannah. The very hardest thing about our move to Collierville, way back when, was Hannah’s loneliness. There were few friends for that sweet eleven-year-old girl. She was lonely and sad and longed for fun times with friends that she had left behind in our former town.  I secretly spoke to Judy about this and asked her if she could maybe add Hannah to her already bulging list of grand-daughters. Judy took this very seriously and invited Hannah over to watch sweet movies, to go shopping, to play games and to eat cookies. She attended all of Hannah’s recitals and theater productions and, I’m pretty sure, she had to cancel some other things in her schedule, to attend these events. Hannah did not know that Judy and I had ever talked about her loneliness. She did not know Judy’s friendship was, in any sense, a planned response to her isolation. But Han would often come in the kitchen and say “I love Mrs. Judy. She likes me, too. We have fun together.”  Judy was the salvation for my Mama-heart. I do not know what Hannah’s life would look like had it not been for Judy’s friendship at a volatile time. But I know, for sure, it would not be, today, as rich and good.

Hannah wanted to go to the memorial service for Judy. She took her little girls with her.  When she got back home, she said, “I suddenly remembered, as the family tributes and memories were read, that I had all those same memories of Mrs. Judy and I wasn’t even hers!” It’s really no surprise to me that some of the best women I know are those who were directly influenced by Judy.

I’d really like to go back to Schlotzky’s one more time to get a pesto pizza and sit and talk over our work at the Collierville church, our husbands’ idiosyncrasies, our children and grandchildren, and our shared Calhoun County heritage. Judy and I shared the same grandparents and we were both pretty profoundly influenced by our Aunt Claudine in some good ways. We were first cousins in the flesh, but our real blood kinship was in THE blood, that had washed our sins and replaced all despair with hope. I can’t sit down at Schlotzky’s anymore; it’s not even there. I can’t visit that old house at Piperton. But I will sit down again. And she will listen, still. There will not be tears, but I cannot imagine there not being some pretty intense laughter and joy. I can’t wait. 

He is so faithful.

PS. Here’s clip I found on her Facebook page. So typical of our times together. She really did love to laugh. https://www.facebook.com/hannah.giselbach/videos/10100581030877769

…and you wouldn’t scroll too far on her page without getting to some Bama hype. Here’s a little photo we loved together:

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

More than a Southerner…

Posted on January 17, 2024

I identify strongly as a Southerner. It’s not a choice. There’s no denying it, really, when I wallered on the floor as a toddler. If my mother was not going to do a thing right now, she would do it d’reckly. When I was playing with, instead of eating, my food, I was told to quit messin’ and gomming. (I don’t even know.) The exclamation of choice in the adult conversation around me was “Well, I declare!” The middle-of-the-day meal was dinner and we wiped the table after it with a rag. We never had a pop. We had a coke, no matter what brand it was. I had a housecoat; not a robe. Crappie, the best of the best fish to catch at Hollis’s  Lake, rhymes with copy; not with happy.  (And, by the way, when fishing, I was watching my bobber.) I really didn’t know what a utility room was until I was an adult. It was the washroom. I had wonderful fluffy aunts (Aunt Lizzie and Aunt Bertie Mae) and the word aunt rhymed with paint; not rant and surely not font. 

 I remember “Cousin Cliff” and I remember southern advertising jingles like 

Jack’s hamburgers for 15 cents are so good, good, good…. You’ll go back, back, back to Jack, Jack, Jack’s… For more, more, more.

I was on the five o’clock news on Birmingham’s channel 13 live from Hibbett’s in January, 1978 purchasing my Bama National Championship jersey, even as the title was being hotly contested. 

I like mah-naise on my sandwich and I push a buggy at the store. I climbed Mimosa trees as a kid and caught lightning bugs (not fireflies) and tied a string on a June bug’s leg for hours of flying fun. I had several memorable whippins with a hick’ry. Sometimes, my mother would even make me go out and find the switch, myself. (Now there was a lot of thinking going on around those bushes.)

And never were there days as purely southern as the very rare snow day. First off, the weather-man (not meteorologist) never got it right in Alabama about snow, so there were many very disappointing awakenings on Lynn Dale Lane. But, when the world was white, after lots of excited shrieks, we scraped for snow cream first, and then we donned layers and layers of mis-matched pajamas, topped with a layer or two of Buster Brown snap sweaters, and a coat from the next kid up. (It had to be big by then.)  Then three pairs of socks and rain boots (never galoshes) if we had them, or bread bags tied around our tennis shoes. Metal trash can lids down the back hill between the house and the garden were the best! On rare occasions, we even got snowed in, and couldn’t make it to Adamsville for church, so we put on all those layers and we walked a couple of miles down the mountain to Sandusky, where Dan Jenkins or, later, brother Jarrett, was preaching. Those memories, before live-streaming, (or any of the conveniences and conflicts that have come with the internet) are pretty wonderful.

There were some very good things about Southern living that have left vestiges (remnants) for my life in Alabama still today. People did not pass people who had flat tires or over-heated radiators. People stopped to help. People in the store let me bring things home to try on before paying. “Just bring it back next time you’re in town.” People took up collections for neighbors—door-to-door— when they were sick or had lost a loved one. People were not afraid to answer the door and many people routinely left their doors unlocked. People called on neighbors—not door dash— when they were missing an ingredient. People scrunched up and made pallets when relatives came for extended visits and they had fun doing it. Mothers sewed and baked and were not afraid for their kids to walk home from the bus stop alone. Small-town kids could walk to the grocery store or up-town to the square and bring home the necessities without even having any money. The clerk knew and trusted the family to make it good on the first of the month, when billed. 

Trust is the thing. It’s so important for making life work together. It’s essential for good marriage, for good neighborhoods and for good business— and it’s making a quick exit from our communities. 

When we turn from the ultimate trust—trust in God—we become untrustworthy (and untrusting) toward our fellowmen. We are like the Jews to whom Jeremiah wrote in 9:4-6: 

Take ye heed every one of his neighbor,

and trust ye not in any brother:

for every brother will utterly supplant,

and every neighbor will walk with slanders.

And they will deceive every one his neighbour,

and will not speak the truth:

they have taught their tongue to speak lies,

and weary themselves to commit iniquity.

Thine habitation is in the midst of deceit;

through deceit they refuse to know me, saith the Lord.


And then we slowly lose, not just the goodness of community, but the simple joys of community living. There are many fun things I got to do, when growing up, that my grandkids will not experience because of eroded trust. 

I know these are mostly idle musings of a nostalgic grandmother. I know, too, that all good things must come to an end. Every society in history, left unconquered by enemies, has lost its way, and eventually crumbled from within. Though I am unable to prevent the demise of wholesome adherence to principles of integrity that engender trust in my country or even my community, I am able to BE trustworthy. I am able to be helpful to elderly Mr. Jimmie, across the street. I am able to take bread to neighbors and to check on them when something seems off. I am able to have people in my home for soup and to take soup to others who are sick or lonely. Most importantly, I can still say, “Would you study the Bible with me?” as I am praying for some soul that needs so badly to trust in the One who is the essence of integrity. The gospel is the truth that grows integrity in the lives of the people around me. It is the truth that transports us, rather quickly, from a place that has little trust left, to a place where there is no lack of trust, ever again. I want to be the spiritual remnant that is given the new order of trust spoken of by Zephaniah in 3:12,13. Faith in God changes everything and gives us hope for a home where trust is never eroded. May I share the “trust” that takes away fear. 

I will also leave in the midst of thee an afflicted and poor people,

and they shall trust in the name of the Lord.

The remnant of Israel shall not do iniquity, nor speak lies;

neither shall a deceitful tongue be found in their mouth:

for they shall feed and lie down, and none shall make them afraid.

  

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

No Room to Complain

Posted on December 29, 2023

I’ve learned a few things in the past couple of years. One of them is that I can do a much better job of being content.

Neither murmur ye, as some of them also murmured, and were destroyed of the destroyer. Now all these things happened unto them for examples: and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come (1 Corinthians 10:10,11).

In 2024, I want to stop complaining,

…about how my house is too big to clean. I may wake up one day and find that every corner and every nook is filled with someone else’s things. I needed the big. 

…about how busy I am. I may wake up one day and find that my responsibilities have doubled. I just thought I was way busy.

…about how expensive groceries are. I may wake up one day and find that I need more groceries, weekly,  than I have needed in the past twenty years. I had no idea of how much I could have been spending. 

…about how we cannot seem to get to make the visits to the shut-ins or the nursing home. I may wake up and find that the visit is no longer optional. She is your husband’s mother and he is the only care-taker.

…about how hard it is to plan a family gathering. I may wake up one day and find that there are more complications than I ever dreamed even possible.

…about excessive laundry. I may wake up one day and find my laundry has tripled. 

…about how dangerous the world is becoming. I may wake up one day and know that bombing is occurring just outside the door of my brother and sister’s house across the pond.

Life simply teaches me gratitude every day. This little list could go on and on. Perhaps this little list sounds ironically like complaining in itself. But it’s not complaining. It’s just reflecting to say that whatever it is that you find grievous or burdensome in your world today is a challenge for your heart. Let your heart wander to what life would be like if you didn’t have the big challenge of your life right now; whatever that current challenge is. 

If my house wasn’t packed right now, my grandchildren would not be nearby.

If my responsibilities were not overwhelming right now, my opportunities for influence would not be maximized. 

If I was not buying groceries in bulk right now, I would not be feeding children who are growing into servants for Him. 

If my mother-in-law were not requiring multiple visits weekly, my grandchildren might not be learning the joys of service in an up-close and personal way.

If we were not working hard with schedules to arrange family gatherings, we might not have the blessed privilege of family support and fellowship in the tough challenges.          

If the world were always peaceful and serene, our longing for heaven would not be so fervent and real. 

The real lesson is, if things today seem more bleak than yesterday, I must always know in my heart that I’m in a good place. I am in His bundle of the living (I Samuel 25). He is going to work things out for me because I love him (Romans 8:28). He knows the end of every story and He knows just how to test and mold and fit me for heaven. Whatever tomorrow holds may not be as  comfortable as today is, even considering the challenges of today. After all, Joseph thought he was in bad shape in the pit, but he didn’t yet know about the gypsies and the servanthood and the betrayal and the prison and the neglectful butler.  

But in the world of His children, the last day, the day of death, as grim as that may be, is the best day. The last day is the best day. Because, the big victory is won on the last day. The house will be the perfect size. The jobs will all be done. The needs will all be met. The family gathering will all be arranged and the sicknesses will all be healed.  

There’s really not a space for murmuring in my world. He has already delivered me, in advance, from every seemingly hopeless situation. Death and all its attendant sorrows has been swallowed up in victory (1 Corinthians 15:54).

                                            

 

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

This Blog. Fourteen Yearly Resolves Ago

Posted on December 27, 2023

The kids of the 2009 resolve.

It’s stirring that I’ve posted just under 2000 editions of the “Bless Your Heart” blog. It means I am fourteen years older than when I began posting (Yikes!). It means that much water’s passed under my bridge since “Bless Your Heart” began. It means that there have been moments of incredible happiness that were chronicled here and moments of profound loss. I was looking through some of the posts that have to do with New Year’s resolutions last night and ran across this from the year 2009.

It struck me that I had not yet lost my father, my connection to the place of my birth, my dream of having a divorce-free family, my dear sister-in-law, my strong father-in-law or my dearest friendship (outside my physical family) thus far on earth. But I had not gained the children I would love through marriage, my five incredible grandchildren, my deepened relationships in the West Huntsville family, or my little cabin through which many people so dear to my heart would pass.
If I could have known what the next fourteen years held, I would have been in deep agony and profound joy on that New Year’s Eve. I would have worked to maintain and gain and I would have worked to avoid loss. I would have cried out in anguish and, at the same time, I would have rejoiced.  I would have praised Him and I would have plead earnestly with him.
I’m so glad I could not know the future. I am afraid I would have hurt far more if I could have known. But one thing is for sure, though. As I reflect on this more innocent night of New Year’s dreams, I know He already knew every circumstance I would face and He already had a plan to carry me through because I am His child. He has given me strength that has helped prepare me for heaven through both the amazingly wonderful things and the incredibly dark days. He is faithful.
Here’s the post from New Year’s Eve, 2009. (And I do realize that I write selfishly for my own therapeutic purposes…and for my grandchildren, one day. I know I’m wholly insignificant and they are the only ones who may even be interested at all in my ramblings. I surely don’t expect others to read and absorb 14 years of my life! Maybe I should just settle for a personal diary and not a blog!=)
It was 27 minutes till the dawn of 2010 when we turned off the TV and stopped the festivities at my dad’s house. Getting serious for a few minutes in front of the fire that would warm us into the new year, we first went around the room and all the guys chose a spiritual song to lead. It was really pretty singing: Anywhere with Jesus and Nothing but the Blood and others. Then we all listened as every person in the room– cousins, aunts, uncles, parents and children—told us all exactly and specifically how he/she was going to do something in the new year to be a better person.  Here are some of the resolutions we heard:
1. (from a mom) I am going to put my prayer list in a place where I can more easily access it when I’m actually before the throne.
2. (from a pre-teen) I am going try to stop arguing with my brothers and sisters.
3. (from a college student) I am going to add to my daily Bible time a short time in a good spiritual study guide.
4. (from a young child) I am going to give more hugs.
5. (from a teenager) I am going to work hard to get the “me monster” out of my life.
6.  (from a graduate student) I am going to spend more time preparing healthy meals, so I can feel better to accomplish important things.
7. (from a mom) I am going to pick out a day of the week or even a day of the month to take my kids to visit sick people.
8. (from a young child) I am going to share.
9. (from a dad) I am going to work really hard to sell a piece of land that’s getting in our way of being all we want to be spiritually and financially.
10. (from a high school student) I plan to be kinder and friendlier to people who might not treat me nicely.
11. (from a college student) I was not prepared for all the things college life would throw at me and I’m determined to go back this semester armed and ready for the challenges. I am going to stop making excuses for my mistakes and be responsible for disciplining myself.
12. (from a pre-teen) I am going to get up in the mornings and get cracking on my school work, so I will have more time for fun things.
13. (from a dad) I am determined to be an encourager.
I have a feeling these resolutions will not be perfectly kept. I know there will be times when Dad will discourage someone. There will be times when Mom will not be the prayer warrior she wants to be. There will be times when the child will be selfish. There will be a morning when it will be very hard to get up and get busy; and there will be times when Bible study is abbreviated, at best. Life happens and we deal with it. But resolution is still a very good thing. We plan to evaluate these self-challenges in a year. And, if the resolve moves us in the direction we want to go, then the resolutions, in another year, will be a little more mature, a little more challenging, and, certainly, will bring us a little closer to heaven. When the resolve becomes weak and the temptation becomes strong, we still have the Father to shorten our faith gaps, promising us that there is no temptation so strong that He will not provide that way of escape (I Cor. 10:13). We want to look for God’s  “out” in 2010. I hope fellow Christians will pray that we will always find the escape route.  At the end of 2010, we want to be better people.…And then we prayed. When we finished praying there were 47 seconds left in 2009; a year that had been full of undeserved blessings; a year of days that change all too quickly from pending to past. We counted down the final seconds and embraced each other into the New Year.

It’s a good life. It’s a wonderful time in a good life. It’s a good family with good intentions. And we serve a great God who can solidify the intentions of his focused people.  We will soon have turned all of the corners of 2010 to find both the unexpected and the predictable eventualities. Everything on the agenda will soon be in the memoirs. When we look through the pages of the 2010 chapter, may it be a good read.