“O Lord, You are the portion of my inheritance and my cup;
You maintain my lot, The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;
Yes, I have a good inheritance.” -Psalm 16:2
Today’s cuppa is a large tumbler of iced tea garnished with both lime and fresh mint leaves. The current heat wave calls out for this cooling and restorative drink. In fact, this is my third glass of the day.
My mother died at 57 years of age and Daddy followed soon after at 60. For my two sisters and me (I am in the middle), it was a rough few years. I am grateful that my mother lived long enough to hold Grace (our youngest daughter) as a tiny baby before she died in hospice care in Louisville, KY. Grace was the fifth granddaughter my parents had and the last one born. My sisters and I sold their farm and divided up their things without so much as one cross word among us. In my almost 69 years, I realize this is not the norm.
I am grateful for the blessing of a material inheritance I received, but much more thankful for the legacy of hard work, being a person of your word, Christian faith, love and laughter I was nurtured by on our Kentucky farm. My sisters and I knew we were fully loved by my parents and that we would have what we needed when the time came. We were not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but we never felt we lacked for anything. We were taught to study hard, work hard and good things would follow. They did.
Our grandparents lived in the same little town. I have treasured memories of Sunday lunches at Mom and Pa’s, my mother’s parents. My daddy’s mother was a widow of many decades. She lived with her sister who never married. Their home was at the bottom of my elementary school which was perched on a hill. We girls spent many afternoons there between 3:00 and 4:30 p.m., when my mother got off work as a public health nurse. We ate ice cream at Me-Maw’s house or picked at leftover fried chicken on a saucer near the back of the stove if we were lucky. Me-Maw played a peg board game called HighQ with me, called out my spelling words or would let me watch Art Linkletter’s “Kids Say The Darndest Things” on TV. Her Bible was always nearby, along with a prayer guide for the latest Billy Graham outreach. She wore hats and gloves to church, and it was a special treat to sit with her in her pew on Sunday morning. She would open her coin purse and give me a few coins to put in the offering plate, my first experience in giving.
I am grateful for my small-town Kentucky life and those who invested in me with their time, encouragement and prayer. I remember my elementary school years in GAs (Girl’s Auxiliary) where I was captivated by a lady missionary named Lottie Moon who served the Lord in China. About the same time, my Great Aunt Ermine, the town librarian, invited me into the stacks with her and handed me a book she thought I might enjoy reading. It was Pearl Buck’s “The Good Earth.” This was another gift to awaken me to an awareness of an amazing world beyond Kentucky, full of people very different than me, but created and loved by God.
Psalm 139 celebrates each of us as “fearfully and wonderfully made” (v. 14). No one has your DNA, your fingerprints or your uniqueness. Verse 16 celebrates the mystery of our creation and design, accompanied by a divine plan and purpose for our existence, each and every day. My response to this grand psalm is wonder and worship, especially when I take time to “connect the dots” on some of my own journey and the activity of God in it, day by day, season by season.
Enough of my memory lane moments for now. I leave you today with an encouragement to fix your own cool drink and ponder your inheritance, boundary lines and how the Lord formed your life for His purposes.
Cheers,
Nancy
