by: Trisha Forsythe

            It is one of my favorite places in the world, and the place that holds the most memories for me. It is a simple place. It can be found in every house, although it is often used for a variety of purposes other than what it was intended. My favorite place is—or was—my grandparents’ kitchen table. I miss that table almost as much as I miss them. That simple brown stained table became a safe place, a place for learning, a place for laughter, a place for encouragement, and for love. 

            Growing up, my brother and I spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house. We practically lived there. My grandparents held mealtimes as special time for family to gather and eat. We didn’t just eat though. We laughed, we talked about our days, we learned lessons, we gained wisdom, and we were shown love. 

          

  As kids in school, we did homework at that table. Grammy would sit us down in our spots and watch over us as she cooked. She was there to help us when we needed it. We couldn’t stop to do anything until we finished our work. Our goal was to do it right as well as to get to finished before dinner. We knew that after dinner we could watch tv and go outside to play (which was my favorite part). Yet, we didn’t just get the knowledge from the books; when PeePa came home and we were eating, we heard great stories of love and how to treat people. I carry the wisdom they passed on—things like “if a job is worth doing right, it is worth doing right the first time,” “treat people with respect,” and “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all” (my dad still uses this one on me). They also taught us the love of God at that table. We discussed the Sunday sermons and Sunday school lessons and memorized Bible verses. 

            It was also the gathering place for birthday parties and holidays. We as a family would sit around the table and talk about the day and what we had accomplished and hoped to accomplish. We got advice—godly advice and life experience. It was in these moments we saw how God was working in each of our lives and how God had protected us or taught us or changed us in ways we couldn’t see at the time. It is these memories that I hold dear.

I am reminded of the times Jesus “reclined at the table” when he was at Peter’s house and “sat at the Passover table” with His disciples. Each time He was sharing the purpose of His mission and the purpose and cost of being a disciple. He was teaching lessons in these moments. He was teaching lessons of love, discipleship, and how to live a godly life when He fed the 5000. He spent time with people. In those “kitchen table” moments he passed on his wisdom that has changed the lives of so many people—you and I included.

We have a purpose—a calling—to “go and make disciples” and to train the next generation. So, my challenge to you as I close this blog is—take every opportunity to create “kitchen table” moments with your kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, moms and dads, whole families. If you have those kitchen table moments already—be encouraged, they are not forgotten, and neither are the lessons. They are engraved on the hearts of all those who shared in those “kitchen table” moments. If you need to start—do it now. Find the time. Make the time. It is well worth the extra time and preparation. 

I recently found myself walking the paths of a local flea market. I was in search of a table or bar or something for the kitchen. While I could envision it in my mind, I could not find the words to describe it well enough to do an internet search, explain to my husband or search online groups. So, to the local flea market we went.

Up and down the paths I strolled. Each booth was as unique as the one before. Many were crammed so full of content that I could not make out one sale from another. In one booth clocks would be stacked on top of toys and home decor from the ’80s was tucked in the corners with a few VHS tapes sticking out from underneath tattered books. But, the very next booth would be well laid out and a delight to browse. Everything considered wall decor was neatly placed on the lattice walls and the furniture was displayed in a way that I could almost envision it in my house.

I found myself taking a right into a room with glass cases. Some were filled with knives and manly type things and others were filled with Batman cars or Star Wars memorabilia. The thing that struck me was that no two booths were the same. Even the cluttered booths had a uniqueness about them. My husband looked at me and said “Man, you sure can tell a lot about a person by what they display.” Literally, I stopped dead in my tracks. His words begin to ring in my ears louder and louder. And, naturally, it’s got me to thinking. What do people see when they walk past the display that is my life?

Y’all, my display is sort of an ever-changing collage. One day it is neatly organized and full of love, patience, kindness, joy, faith, determination, sacrifice and humility. Other days it is scattered with anger, hatred, frustration, humiliation, pride, self-centeredness, cattiness, negativity and any other self-loathing, world-hating description you can insert.

In the past I used to fuss at my inner self to get it together, do better, stand up, straighten up, bite that lip, put on the pretty display that I think others want to see. But recently I’m finding myself searching for a little more grace and patience with myself. That anger…it’s there because I’ve been hurt and the more I keep it open to the perfect air that God creates the more he can heal it. That insecurity that you see in the corner…it’s on full display because I am learning that I am never alone and the only one that I yearn for their approval is my Jesus who accepted me so much that he died for me. And, let’s not forget that regret that is thrown around on the floor. It’s a reminder to me of what Jesus has carried me through.

As a woman we have a lot riding on our displays. But, can we just give each other the grace and safe space to be a mess? When motorcyclists pass each other they throw their arms down towards the ground and hold out two fingers. It’s their way of saying “stay safe” or “praying for you” or “I see you, man.” So, here I am… a display that is a beautiful cluttered mess throwing my arm out, pointing my two fingers to my fellow sisters shouting “I see you and I accept your chaotic mess!” ❤️

God is so good. He reminds me of His promises in the coolest ways possible, and I share them all on my personal blog Twenty-Nine Thirteen. I would love for you to join the journey! You can find me at http://www.twentyninethirteen.com and on Facebook @twentynine13.

Every once in a while I pick up the phone to call my Mother. She has been in Heaven since 2006. Why is it that I still feel the urge to give her a call? Recently, it has been because of my grandchildren. She loved having grandchildren and would absolutely love her great-grandchildren. There are times when I think that I need to tell her about something one of them has done and I reach for the phone. She would love it. I remember how she wanted to live long enough so that her grandchildren would remember her.

What a joy it would be if she could know these precious children that I have in my life. Christian is amazing. He can sit and talk to you about the Titanic and give you all kinds of details about this amazing ship. He loves history and has all kinds of information ready to share with anyone who will listen. She would have sat for hours listening to him talk and loved every minute of it. Mother made dolls and would have loved to share them with the girls. She would have loved having tea parties with them and playing dolls.

There are so many things that I would love to tell her if I had just one more phone call. When my daughter was getting married, I had even dialed the number to ask her opinion on something. How does that continue to happen? This past week, I picked up my phone to tell her about how cute the girls were at their dance recitals. She would have loved to see them all dressed up with their hair “just so” and a little bit of make-up.

I think of my mother as my cloud of witnesses mentioned in Hebrews 12:1. She was faithful on this earth to love the Lord. She was an encourager to so many people. Even when she could no longer get out of her home, she had her phone. The Lord would put someone on her heart and she would call them. 

She loved to sing about Jesus. I miss hearing her sing. I know many songs because of hearing her sing them over and over while she was cooking or washing dishes. 

There are a lot of things I miss about her, but I think I really just miss sharing life with her. I think the love that lasted for so many years has continued to remain in my heart so that I want to continue to share life with her even in her death. I think love never really dies when we carry people with us in our heart and in our memories. We will have a lot of catching up to do when I meet up with her in heaven. What a day that will be!

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,  fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross,scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

Hebrews 12:1-2

by Debbie Rogers

He found him out in the wilderness, in an empty, windswept wasteland. He threw his arms around him, lavished attention on him, guarding him as the apple of his eye.

Deuteronomy 32:10

A drought is defined as “a period of dryness especially when prolonged” and “a prolonged or chronic shortage or lack of something expected or desired” according to Merriam Webster. Watching the news this week I see stories of extreme heat and lack of rain in Europe, the UK and the USA. But drought isn’t only about lack of water.

At times the last couple of years have seemed like a drought for many of us, me included. First there was a disease that caused us to change who we were with and where we went. Then so many issues that divided and separated us from one another. There has been a drought of hugs, handshakes, smiles, togetherness, and civility. Maybe you have had a drought in relationships, finances, happiness, health or peace. It is very easy to get discouraged, to be disappointed, to worry and look for someone to blame.

This is what the Lord says: 

“Cursed is the one who trusts in man, who draws strength from mere flesh and whose heart turns away from the Lord. That person will be like a bush in the wastelands; they will not see prosperity when it comes. They will dwell in the parched places of the desert, in a salt land where no one lives. But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him.They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.” Jeremiah 17:5-8 (NIV)

“Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. Hebrews 4:14-16 (NIV)

I would rather walk through a decade of drought with Jesus than a day of plenty without him. Whatever drought you are facing – walk through it with Jesus.

And the sea will be no more.

“Then I looked and I saw a new heaven and a new earth for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away and the sea was no more.”

There’s more to it than that but I always get stumped right there and I make a face. 

It is a segment of a portion of the 21st chapter of the last Book in the King’s Book. 

I along with some of my closest friends spent the spring studying it and about 31 of us committed this portion and the subsequent verses to memory. We worked hard on it all year and then the day came when it became a part of my memory. I still get some of the articles and verbs wrong, But this part, the part about the sea being no more always gets me, the beach is my absolute favorite place on this planet and I could not appreciate the fact that the sea will be no more. I tried hard to reconcile that in a perfected new world there wasn’t a sea, or a beach. But a perfect world with no beach was a hard sell. 

After some study and some questioning I finally settled on the sea being somewhat metaphorical. 

The beach is the place where I think best, where I sort things out when they get jumbled up, where I check off items on my bucket list, make memories that last a lifetime. The place where I am inspired and it’s been the place that I’ve sought clarity and healing. I’ve limped there too many times to count only to leave walking upright.

The beach is the place where I refresh, reflect and recharge. 

Some days ago we Martins took a vacation to the beach, we visited Mobile and Fairhope. We witnessed a sunset that couldn’t be described and my words can not do it justice. We laughed and ate and swam and pondered and prayed. We attended church at a Bar turned worship center come Sunday Morning. We made memories and soaked up the sun and surf. 

We enjoyed our time and at the end of it all the King reminded me He is faithful in all things and can be trusted with the deep places of the heart, hurt and healing.

by: Trisha Forsythe

            Names are special and unique. Parents spend a lot of time choosing the right name for their children. Our names have meaning and are special not only to us, but our parents. Our names also give us an identity. 

            Recently, I had a “passive aggressive” run in with a parent about the misspelling of her child’s name. It was an honest mistake–a typo and an easy to fix typo, but this mom laid into me in an email and then posted it all over Facebook. My name was even spelled wrong in the post. I had to laugh at the misspelling of my name because even though it was meant to be an insult or to make me mad, I stopped getting mad about the misspelling of my name a long time ago. Why? Trisha with an “sh” is not the common spelling and Forsythe is a hard Scoth-Irish name. Both of my names are always going to be misspelled (and mispronounced). I know it is going to happen, but I do understand her argument and frustration. I still get irritated with the people who have known me my whole life spell my name wrong. Have you ever felt the same way? Have you ever reacted the same way—whether it was your name or your child’s name? It is normal.

            Yet, I got to wondering—does that change the uniqueness of who we are and our character. I think not. We are shaped by our belief in ourselves, our life experiences, and more importantly what Jesus has said we are. I like the idea that we are princesses (and we don’t have to fight over the order of things). I like that God “knows the plans [he has] for you” and that the “plans [are] for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” We are “fearfully and wonderfully made” and that “before I formed you in the womb, I knew you and before you were born, I consecrated you.” He knows us and chose us. These promises don’t change just because our names are misspelled or mispronounced. 

            What I want my name to carry with it is that I loved people the way God instructed, and Jesus taught us. I want to be remembered as someone who was strong enough and brave enough to shout out “Let me tell you what God has done for me” or “Let me show you how Jesus provided for me.” I want to leave a legacy that points to Him (a mission that I am struggling to do every day). I want it to be said of me that I loved God, shared the gospel, and “she loved people.” Proverbs 22:1a says “A good name is to be chosen rather than riches.” That is what I want; how about you? Are we going to let it go when our names are misspelled and that doesn’t take away from the fact that we are loved, and we have a mission to share the gospel–that a misspelled name doesn’t change how God sees us? I hope not. I hope that when we are ridiculed or “blasted” on social media, we remember who we are in God’s sight and that we respond with love so that our “good name” points to God and His love. 

My husband is a biker dude. He’s a leather chap wearing, tattoo loving, motorcycle driving biker dude. His love for Jesus is strong and wide and his love for bikes runs a close second. He has three bikes. I once caught him in the garage measuring and when questioned he informed me there is just enough room for “one more bike!”

He tried to teach me to ride. He bought me a scooter. I had THE BEST time in the church parking lot. I would toodle by him blowing my horn and waving while he sat on the curb watching me. I could take those turns and weave in and out of the parking lots, but every single time I took my scooter out on the road with real cars and real people I became hysterical. The amount of screaming that occurred. The near misses where an angel literally had to push me out of the way of another car are more than I can count. My guy finally sat me down and explained that my fear was just as dangerous as if I were a dare devil, so the scooter had to go. I choose to miss the part where he called out my fear and instead focus on the part where he compared me to a dare devil! 😊

Being a passenger on a bike where I have zero control has been a learning curve for me but I am adapting. We went on a trip with some other bikers and took a fairly curvy road. To hear the others talk it was a normal road, but to this girl IT WAS CURVY! Left and then right and then hair pin and then left again and as soon as I caught my breath we were leaning right. I kept breathing and before I knew it tears were streaming down my face. I dared not cry out loud because who wants a bunch of bikers to know I’m crying! My guy kept patting my leg and doing his best to comfort me, but I just couldn’t calm down. I kept wiping my tears with my leather glove and doing my best to let the wind take any redness out of my face.

I noticed the biker and his wife in front of us and she was taking pictures at every curve. She was twisting left and right and forwards and backwards and had not a care in the world. WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER? I thought to myself. The ride ended at a cute little pizza place and the woman started sharing the photos she had taken. They were breathtaking. The views she was able to capture were nothing short of God’s art work. Fog hugged the tops of the hills and the valleys were full of the upcoming freshness of Spring. My heart fell. I had missed it all. My fear had held me back.

So many times in life I am gripped with fear. I make decisions based on the safest bet and sadly, I often miss opportunities God is laying out before me because I am afraid. My guy took me to the motorcycle store and hooked me up with some protective gear. He explained that in the event of a mistake and my body hits the road the gear is gonna literally save my hide. I was gearing up recently and as I slid my pants on I thought about the belt of truth being buckled around my waist. As each arm slid into my jacket I thought about the breastplate of righteousness. And as I slid my helmet over my head I thought of the helmet of salvation. Y’all, God always prepares the way. He’s got it all worked out. All we gotta do is armor up and trust him!

So, here’s to not being the biker girl who cries during the ride. Here’s to letting go of the chrome bars and holding up my arms towards heaven enjoying the ride that God has me on. Here’s to gearing up and letting go! ❤️

God is so good. He reminds me of His promises in the coolest ways possible, and I share them all on my personal blog Twenty-Nine Thirteen. I would love for you to join the journey! You can find me at http://www.twentyninethirteen.com and on Facebook @twentynine13.

My Grandmother’s wedding ring has been a joy for me for many years. My Grandmother died when I was 27. She had wanted to be a Great Grandmother and I was pregnant, so it was sad to me that she died before my child was born. I have enjoyed having her wedding band. It is pink gold and has been special because I am the only granddaughter.

I had a really tough couple of days and was feeling really tired. I had been wearing her ring along with my wedding bands. I sat down to work on my bible study and realized that her ring was not on my finger. My heart sunk. I had been several places and it could have come off anywhere. I looked all over my house and down in the furniture. I cleaned out my purse to see if it had fallen off there. I just knew it was gone.

Later that day, I went to Publix. I was just picking up a few things for a special dinner for my husband who was celebrating 35 years in his job. His award had been delivered that week and I wanted to have a special dinner with his award sitting on the table. As I walked through Publix, I felt like something was in my shoe. It was starting to get irritating but I did not want to stop to empty my shoe. As I walked up the steps from my basement with the groceries, I realized that what was bothering me in my shoe seemed round. I thought it would not be possible for that to be my grandmother’s ring. As soon as I got upstairs, I took my shoe off. What a joy to realize that my Grandmother’s ring was in my shoe. I felt like celebrating!

I was reminded of the parable of the Woman and the lost coin in Luke 15:8-10.

“Or what woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and seek diligently until she finds it?  And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’  Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” (ESV)

Just as she called in friends and neighbors to celebrate, I now celebrate with you. I realize it is a ring. Imagine how much more the angels celebrate when a lost person repents and comes to know Jesus as Lord and Savior.