Showing posts with label Whispering Hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Whispering Hope. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 3, 2020



Last week our state experienced an October surprise that had nothing to do with the upcoming election. An ice storm. An epic ice storm that sent tree branches crashing TO the ground and INTO the ground like spears boring into the earth at an angle. Trees that had been planted and nurtured for years now stand stripped of their glorious branches and leaves. The power outages have been rampant, and more than 300,000 homes in our communities were left without power during the freezing temperatures. Those homes had more than one person living inside so that number doesn't tell the entire story. A week later, 120,000 are still waiting for their comfort to return with lights, heat, and in rural areas, water. Thankfully, our beautiful fall weather has returned making it so much easier for clean up crews and residents trying to stay warm without power.an

As I look at the widespread broken tree limbs around the city, I’m reminded that at one time or another we all experience brokenness. And then I’m reminded of the amazing process of healing that follows. Through our salvation, we are all made new. A clean slate that is our heart and one on which the Lord will write a new beginning and the work that He has begun will be completed. He is faithful to help us over the bumps along the way and eager to forgive because those missteps the Bible calls “sin” are already covered by the blood of Jesus. I find great comfort in knowing that His mercies are new every day. Like trees that will return in full splendor next Spring, our lives can flourish in the promise of redemption.


’m reminded 

Friday, July 31, 2020

Draw Me

Photography by Mid Stutsman  http://midspix.wordpress.com/
















Draw Me


Draw me through my tears
  Embrace me in my fears
In the stillness of the night
  Draw me

Draw me through my doubt
  Use truth to draw me out
When lies of the world deceive
  Draw me

Draw me into Your joy
  Use praises to employ
Your mercy and Your grace
  Draw me

Draw me to new heights
  Lift me with Your might
To Your ways higher than mine
  Draw me

Draw me through the skies
  To Your glorious home on high
Forever in Your light
  Draw me

© Nancy K. Sullivan    
    February 4, 2014

Friday, November 16, 2018

Sealed With Color

Sharing Ken Kniskern's photography and beautiful reminder that God teaches us through His creation.



(c) www.K2ProStudio.com
     "Sitting home on a warm fall day, contemplating the events of the past few months, and remembering some of the incredible things that God has done in and through the lives of our family this past year. We have been so busy with life, and as the fall and holiday season approaches, I am ready to slow down... to catch the beauty in the colorful display of God's artistry across the sky.

     Did you ever learn why the leaves change colors in the fall... well, technically they don't. I know, I know, the pictures I have posted the past few days prove me wrong, but lets look at what actually happens. During the spring and summer while the tree is busy producing food, the Chlorophyl in the leaves creates a bright green color that masks the colors already there. Once the days grow short, the tree begins to store food, and production stops and the chlorophyl is absorbed into the leaf revealing the beautiful colors that were already there. The glucose and waste left behind in the leaf provides additional vibrance and color to the display.

     Why the science lesson? In Genesis 9, God gives Noah a promise sealed with the colors of the rainbow after the flood had destroyed the earth. Interestingly enough the fall leaves mirror this promise... Life is not over, all is not lost... Spring will come once more, as it always has... If you are in a season of despair, this is God's promise that though the season is changing, He is still the artist behind each brush stroke of our lives.

     A closer look reveals something more - Something for ALL of us. Remember that while the tree is busy producing food, the colors cannot be seen... It is once the production stops that they are revealed. Perhaps this fall as we approach the holiday season, you are in a season of business... Production is in full swing, and your beauty is being masked by your business. 

     I pray that you will take some time to slow down, and allow others to see Christ in You - the beauty that has been there all along, simply masked by the business of life. Oh, and that left over food that adds to the beauty of the leaf... Perhaps you can share that Beauty (Christ) with someone around you, and help spread the color of God's promise across the forest of your existence!" 


     Happy Fall! KK

(c) www.K2ProStudio.com 
"And the bow shall be in the cloud; 
and I will look upon it, that I may 
remember the everlasting covenant 
between God and every living creature 
of all flesh that is upon the earth."
Genesis 9:16


(You can see more of Ken's work at www.K2ProStudio.com )


Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Dead Sea Rising Review


       Dead Sea Rising is an invitation to experience two worlds: The first, the Bermans', a modern-day Messianic Jewish family. The second, Terah's family in biblical Mesopotamia.

        Jerry Jenkins has his feet firmly planted in both worlds, and he intertwines the two with intrigue and danger that will make you willing, eager even, to travel with him through Dead Sea Rising.  If you enjoy serials, hang on. This one is going to be big!

       Hurry now to Barnes & Nobel or Amazon to get your copy before they're gone!
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Thursday, April 20, 2017

The Final Touch

Photo by Ken Kniskern
Timothy’s hands were trembling, but resolved as he completed the last step to his plan.  He calmly walked away from a delivery truck as its cab filled with smoke coming from the end of a burning fuse.

The downtown traffic was gradually beginning to subside after the morning rush hour.  Coffee mugs were finding their familiar places on corners of desks.  Computers hummed in unison as the users typed in passwords and hit the “Enter” keys.  Phones began to ring with morning wakeup calls for employees.  Downstairs muted giggles filtered into the hallways.

Those familiar sounds came to a horrific stop when the force equivalent to three tons of dynamite exploded and became the second shot heard around the world.

Oklahoma City would never be the same.  America would never be the same.  The lives of one hundred sixty-eight families, including those of parents who had just kissed the soft cheeks of their precious little ones, would never be the same.  The only life that seemed untouched was that of Timothy McVeigh, at least for now.

What was once a federal office building filled with FBI agents and other employees, local citizens, and a day care center was now a gaping hole in the Heartland.  Electrical cables hung like spaghetti, and roofing materials waved like shredded curtains hung from melted and twisted iron.  Shards of glass exploded and penetrated unsuspecting bystanders.

Television screens around the world carried the indescribable wreckage and carnage brought to the Bible Belt by hatred of the most demonic proportion.

Timothy may have calculated the required amount of explosive ingredients, the best time of the day to destroy the most lives, and the deadliest available parking place in front of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building, but there was one calculation he missed completely.  He could never have comprehended what would become the “Oklahoma Standard”.  

Volunteerism had its finest moments in the aftermath of the explosion.  Lines formed across the state with people who waited hours to donate blood.  Rescue workers from around the state, the nation, and the globe arrived daily for weeks.  Specially trained dogs became heroes.  Every conceivable need for the rescue and recovery teams was donated, mostly by Oklahomans.

                                                                                          * * * * *

Fifteen years later, in the shadow of The Survivor Tree, a gentle breeze barely skims the still water in the Reflecting Pool.  As the sun sets, the soft lights beneath the glass chairs begin to glow.  Each chair has been strategically placed and named to correspond with the deceased’s final place in and around the nine-story building.  They provide a tangible area where one can rest, place flowers, and even kneel in their quest for comfort and understanding.

Twin bronze gates stand majestically at each end of the memorial, one engraved with 9:01 AM, the other with 9:03 AM.  An inscription on the outside of each gate reads:

“We come here to remember those who were killed, those who survived and those changed forever.  May all who leave here know the impact of violence.   May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope and serenity.”

The peaceful setting that replaced the remains of terrorism speaks to moving on, but never forgetting.  Visitors still leave gifts in a 200-foot remnant of chain link fence that will forever be available for special touches of kindness and remembrance.

In a place as far away as Israel, a large painted mural of a firefighter tenderly looking into the quiet face of the child he is carrying covers the side of a concrete building, an image of an incredible moment in time.

The web page that hosts the site of the Oklahoma City National Memorial now shines with smiling faces of over comers and their stories of restored and victorious lives.  They choose to face each new day in the light of a different kind of joy.

Oklahomans have shown extraordinary resilience through the rough-and-tumble days of the Land Rush, early statehood, the Dust Bowl coupled with the Great Depression, two world wars, and an oil boom that turned into a bust.  April 19, 1995 was our biggest devastation.

“The spirit of this city and this nation will not be defeated; our deeply rooted faith sustains us” is inscribed near The Survivor Tree.

Out of the rubble came strength and greatness.  A state engulfed in mourning but enmeshed in faith as she watches in anticipation for the arrival of the Prince of Peace Who will, once and for all, end the touch of terror.


Photo by Ken Kniskern

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Friday, November 18, 2016

Mother's Turn


My mother would have loved having a blog. Goldie Opal Anderson McCall taught the Bible most of her adult life. She was our go-to concordance, our expositor of scriptures that can raise more questions for which human understanding is often no match. We have a few things she wrote, but said little about. Today I'm honored to share one of them, noted with her initials and 1994, the year on April 18 my dad said his good-byes to us and "Hello" to so many loved ones in Heaven. Mother joined him on April 19, 2013.



OUR VALLEYS


Just as each life needs the mountain tops for sun,
The plains and shores for work and fun,
We also need a place along life's way
To be quiet --- to rest --- and hear God say,
"Be still and know that I am God."
Psalm 46:10



His plan for our lives may include a valley along the way,
As we strive to serve Him day by day.
So do not worry --- fret or fear,
He is faithful and will always be near
To "supply all your needs."
Philippians 4:19



No valley is too deep --- too long --- or too wide
To keep Jesus from walking by our side.
His word is full of His promises --- to you and to me ---
No matter where He sends us --- there He is sure to be.
"I will never leave thee or forsake thee."
Hebrews 13:5

GM
1994



We love you, Mom. Your teaching is still golden, and what a treasure to find something you typed and tucked away with so many of your words of wisdom. Enjoy Heaven with Dad. We'll see you soon.




Monday, October 3, 2016

A President Prays for our Nation's House





"I pray to heaven to bestow the best of blessings on this house and all that hereafter inhabit it...May none but the honest and wise men ever rule under this roof."*



John President (1797-1801)



*The prayer was later carved in the State Dining Room.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Psalm 51:10-12


"Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from Your presence
And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation
And sustain me with a willing spirit
."

Psalm 51:10-12



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Saturday, September 3, 2016

Come



“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” 
(Matthew 11:28, NISB)


  “Come...” 
“Move from where you are"

  “…to Me.”
“Jesus. I’m all you need. I can help.”

  “all”
               “Anyone. Everyone.”

“who are weary”
               “I want to be your strength.”

 “and heavy laden”
               “I carried the cross and then bore it – just for you. I can carry you, too.”

 “and I will give you rest.”
               “Rest for your mind, body and spirit.”



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Wednesday, August 31, 2016

The Music Lesson

          Two of the sources of joy in my life rest in our two beautiful daughters and the young women they've become. The younger of the two, Mandy Kniskern, and I often finish each other's sentences, reach for the phone to call each other at the same time - you know how it is with mothers and daughters.
          I was thinking through my post for this month, but just had not stopped to see if my thoughts would lead to anything helpful. No worries. I checked in to see what my facebook buddies were up to today, and there she was: Mandy. Not only finishing my thoughts, but doing it so eloquently it would be a shame for me to attempt a rewrite for "our" point of view. With her permission, I'm giving my corner over to her today. I hope it blesses you as much as it did me.

      "I love to sing harmony. It often makes me smile to think of how Ken’s and my singing styles speak so much to our personalities. Ken has an undeniably strong, effortless, leading solo voice. I love to blend. I love singing with and against other parts. As we were singing Sunday morning, I was harmonizing on a dissonant note, pressing in, loving the dissonance, anticipating the resolution… and it started me thinking...
      We experience that same dissonance in life...
      That tension that begs for resolution.  Whatever the situation is that’s unresolved, I can press in and learn what there is to learn, grow how I can grow while I wait for resolution. And sometimes it doesn’t come in that particular song or situation. 
          Just as some songs you hear trail off without resolving like you just know they will, such is life.  Not everything gets wrapped up and tied with a nice big bow. The closure that you’re waiting for in your situation doesn’t always come. But there will be a new song, and another new song after that. Just as our lives are a series of chapters, so are they an eclectic blend of music. Some songs will build and swell and give us that big dramatic finish that ends on tonic, the way that feels right, and some songs will deliver more complex chord structures, more dissonance less resolution.
           Who can understand why God allows the discord in our lives… We live in an imperfect world with spiritual battles being fought all around us, and I believe that there are simply times when evil prevails. But God can always work good out of what the enemy intends for our harm.

           If you’re in a particularly dissonant season, press in. Maybe resolution will come, maybe it won’t. But in time, a new song will begin."


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Monday, August 29, 2016

Out of Sight...Out of Mind


I always look forward to spring. Bedding plants, raking last year’s dead leaves from the flower beds, and cool mornings sitting on the porch are a welcome respite after the snow and ice of winter finally melt away. Then summer arrives. I abandon the fresh air and sunshine for the comfort of air conditioning and settle back in until the thermometer drops below 85 degrees again.
          My husband is an outdoor guy. Year around. He works in the extremes of each season, and he’s at home there. This past week, he has encouraged me to be outside with him more, watering trees and flowers, helping with the mowing and pulling the persistent twigs of grass from dirt that reluctantly surrenders the tiny roots.
          Once outdoors, I enjoy the physical labor of gardening, even on such a small scale. And I love seeing the buds and flowers on the rose and lilac bushes gracing a small fenced-in area on the east side of the house. We have no windows on that side of our home; consequently, as the temperatures rise, my memories of the wonders of spring fade. The small round table and chairs of scrolled metal rich in patina and not so rich in comfort sit idle and empty.
          That gentle nudge from my husband takes me back to tend the otherwise helpless blooms and blades. A surprise of new roses and promising buds await me there. The giant yellow day lilies are majestic and begging to be noticed. The two lilac bushes will explode with lavender petals any day now.
This scene reminds me that beauty is always present in our lives. In the face of intensifying headlines that spell trouble and so many loved ones and acquaintances who are in need of prayer for healing and support can sometimes blot out the beauty that God still supplies. And it reminds me of the gentle nudge of our Heavenly Father drawing me back to His beauty

"When You said, 'Seek My face,' my heart said to You,'Your face, O Lord, I shall seek'"Psalm 27:8 NASB

          There is beauty in the quiet times of prayer and reading God’s Word. There is beauty in the sound of laughter and conversation with family and friends. There is beauty in fresh air and creation with the scents and shades of life growing just beyond a porch or fence. There is beauty in each cloud, whether they are floating lazily across a blue, still sky or embroiled with storms and threats of severe weather. Sunrises. Sunsets. All a reminder that we have a loving God Who is still in control and Who has a plan that is unfolding before our very eyes.








"O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly; My soul thirsts for You, my flesh yearns for You, In a dry and weary land where there is no water. Thus I have seen You in the sanctuary, To see Your power and Your glory." Psalm 63:1,2 NASB






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Friday, May 27, 2016

No Regrets


Each day begins anew
And I receive a measure
Of breath to share a moment
That could someday be a treasure.

Shall I but take for granted
My years upon this earth
Not listening to the rhythm
Of my breathing set at birth.

Breath spent cannot return
No matter how I pray
That I can have another chance
To relive a wasted day.

Shall I run breathless through my maze
Letting time pass quickly by
Or choose to direct my path
And catch the memories before they fly.

Each time I breathe a prayer
For His hand to lead me on
I must listen and obey
Before a chance to serve is gone.

The gifts He breathed in me
To be used to glorify
Will wither and fade away
Unless I lift His banner high.

Every breath I have is numbered
And I cannot know when
My voice will become silent
And my life will see its end.

His Spirit gives my soul
The breath to sing and dance
Let not my last words be,
“Please give me one more chance.”

Let me work through each new day
To see each battle won
‘Til the Spirit breathes the words
That say, “My child, a job well done.”

Nancy K. Sullivan
8-22-2010

Friday, May 20, 2016

Why OKLAHOMA?


May 3, 1999 Near Anadarko, OK

          On May 3, 1999, a spring day turned into a nightmare as an EF5 tornado ripped through the lives of Oklahomans. It showed no mercy. Forty-four lives and more than 300 homes could not escape fury’s path. Surely, it was the tornado that would never be equaled – at least that’s what we thought.
          We were proven wrong on May 20, 2013, as another EF5 plowed much of the same area and left splintered lives dazed in unbelief. Twenty-four Oklahomans, including nine elementary students became our latest heartache. The speed at which the skies boiled into one deadly cloud left little time for even the most savvy weather watchers to find cover. Sixteen minutes was their allotted time to read Mother Nature’s mind and get out of her way.



May 20, 2013 Moore OK by Wikipedia
          And, as disaster relief workers from around the state and the nation were settling in for weeks of recovery efforts, May 31 became another page in our history books.
          An EF5 tornado that measured 2.6 miles wide and carried winds of 295 mph became the largest tornado ever recorded worldwide. More lives were lost. An infant and her mother, three experienced storm chasers whose study of the storms have saved countless lives, and a family of seven were among the victims. The trail of destruction differed only in the names of the highways, streets and structures affected and the flooding brought on by record-breaking rainfall. Rain that hid the beast from its victims until it was too late. The rest of the sad scenes filling media reports were much the same.

Photograph by Mike Bettes     El Reno, OK  5/31/2013

          Why Oklahoma? We’re a small state in the heartland that, absent tragedy, rarely grabs a headline from national and world-wide news.
          According to our local weathermen, the tornado that struck the area east of Oklahoma on April 19, 2013, could easily have been pegged an EF5 had it not been in a rural area. It wiped out a mobile home park, many additional homes and took two lives. On April 19, 1995, it was hatred that used our state as a personal and political site and literally put us on the map.
          Dr. Ronnie Hill is an evangelist from Ft. Worth, TX. On May 26, 2013, he was the guest speaker in our church. First Southern Baptist Church was a command post after the May 3, 1999 tornado. Dr. Hill's powerful message followed the path of the tornadoes, but with healing rather than destruction.
          When he shared Job’s story, I followed along and was surprised that I had never noticed how Job’s children died. One of several messengers bringing bad news to Job that day reported the most heartbreaking:

“…'Your sons and your daughters were eating and
drinking wine in their oldest brother’s house and behold,
a great wind came from across the wilderness
and struck the four corners of the house, and it
fell on the young people and they died, and
I alone have escaped to tell you.’”
(Job 1:18,19,NASB)

          Why Oklahoma? Why not? The tragedies that are becoming part of our history seem out of proportion to the size of our small state, but we’re certainly not the only ones in America who are hurting in the face of natural and man-made grief.
          We are learning to “bear one another’s burdens” as we mobilize our man power and resources and rush to the aid of our neighboring citizens, and as they do the same for us. Fellow Americans are never too far away and the need never too great to cause one second of hesitation in reaching across the miles.
          Pastor Dave Evans of Highland Baptist Church in Moore watched on May 20 as the monster tornado took dead aim for the church. As he drove about a mile east to flee the path, he prayed for God’s will. Willing to accept either the church’s demise or the responsibility of ministering to the community, he watched God work.
          The tornado lifted away from the chosen campus, then resumed its path. Later one of the members would point out the date inscribed on the plaque commemorating the day of dedication of the church. It was May 20, 1984.
          On the heels of the May 20 tornado, Operation Blessing was literally driving through Moore asking God for His direction. All heads were bowed (except the driver, of course.) When they looked up, they saw their answer. The sign that read “Highland Baptist Church” told them they had reached their destination.
          Our son-in-law, Ken Kniskern, joined the staff at Highland as a bi-vocational worship leader a few months prior to the outbreak of violent storms. He chases and photographs tornadoes and was literally on the heels of the storm. He and the pastor arrived at the church very quickly. They would be there for the next several days and nights working with other volunteers, doing what they could to see to the immediate needs of Moore, OK residents. Ken’s full-time position at the University of Oklahoma graciously gave him over to the church for those days because that’s where he was needed most.
          At this writing (one week to the day) the church is still operating with generators. Classrooms now house truck loads of kindness from around the nation. The sanctuary has been transformed into a dining room for upwards to 1,000 volunteers who have come and gone and for those who arrive daily. (That number would grow to more than 5,000 with more volunteers showing up daily.) One young man, Hugo, traveled with a group from Texas and when they had to return to their homes last week, Hugo stayed. Oklahoma welcomes her newest resident.
          On May 25, the morning service gave way to living the scripture as teams were dispatched into adjoining neighborhoods to deliver food and essentials and to continue the monumental task of cleaning away the ruins.
Photo by MacKenzie Cage 5/23/2013
          That evening, the worship center was staged outdoors for a community service. The church sits on a beautiful hill overlooking the pain, yet the hope, that resides in her view. One of the members looked up during the service and saw a cloud formation of a cross. Many pictures of rainbows appearing over us that week have been shared through social media. Highland Baptist Church is but one of so many churches and organizations doing exactly the same things for Oklahomans. Churches out of the area partner with the ones that have the best accessibility to the wounded and homeless.
          Our daughter, Mandy, walked through Highland’s parking lot and counted 15 different out-of-state license tags. Food, water, and clothing – all essentials are being brought in by cars, trucks and semis from around the country. The generous cash donations enable families to address their particular immediate needs.

***********

          WHY, Oklahoma? Why do we stay in a land known as “Tornado Alley”? We know the storms are coming, yet we never know exactly where their razor-sharp tailwinds will strike. There are certainly more beautiful and serene places to live. But Oklahoma roots run deep.
          We appreciate the quality of life and the quieter pace. For many, those roots are deeply grounded in our faith and in knowing that God is sovereign and that His time is measured in eternity, not in our limited perspective of the temporal.
          As horrible as the scenes we relive with every news cast are from this side, we know that the innocent children are in a place of unimaginable beauty and forever protected from another moment of pain or sadness. They didn’t leave this world alone. They were accompanied by the Jesus who loves them to that special place He had prepared for them before the first hail stone fell from the sky or the circular winds began to blow.
          We have the opportunity to show others, not the Oklahoma Standard, but God’s Standard. We are just the messengers of His love and provision as we reach out to others and as we accept their incredible love and support when the need is ours. We show that our hope is not misplaced as lives are healed and homes are rebuilt.
          It is our prayer that, through it all, hearts will be changed and that many will come to know the Jesus we serve and the One who loves them enough to die for them through His sacrifice for our sin. Then their perspective will be forever changed from the temporal to the eternal.
          May we be found as faithful as Job and as willing to accept that which we cannot comprehend or attempt to explain:


“The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
(Job 1:20b, NASB)

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal among you,
which comes upon you for your testing,
as though some strange thing were happening to you;
but to the degree that you share the sufferings of Christ,
keep on rejoicing, so that also on the revelation of His glory
you may rejoice with exultation.”
(I Peter 4:12-13, NASB)
© 2013

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Sing It Through



                     Sing It Through

When morning awakens yesterday’s fears
And light fades behind clouds filled with your tears
Let hope fill this moment with His promises true
Just open your heart, let His Spirit sing through.

Let His love shine brighter than what lies ahead
And light today’s journey without sense of dread
Each step brings you closer in faith to renew
Just open your heart, let His Spirit sing through.

We’re never alone when our trials we face
He’s living and loving in a heart bought by grace.
We share Him with others in all that we do
Just open your heart, let His Spirit sing through.

The Son is the source of the praises you sing
You offer them freely to Savior and King
He inhabits your voice and His love shines in you.
Just open your heart, let His Spirit sing through.

For Mary LaFrance
Nancy K. Sullivan
April 22, 2016







  

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Dad

...is celebrating his 21st year in Heaven today. To say I still miss him would be like sharing that the sky is blue.

Marion Walter McCall ("Mac")was a quiet, yet strong presence in our home. Hardworking and so steady. We could set the clock by the time he arrived home from work each and every day. His word was the final say. Mother may have coached him in some of his decisions, but any attempt to change his mind would have been useless, probably because of his strong character and his sense of conviction when it came to the protection and rearing of his four children.

Dad quit school during the depression so he could work to help my grandfather support their family and other relatives who managed to find their way to my grandparents’ tiny home in Oklahoma City.

When WWII broke out, Dad enlisted in the Army. A young husband and father of two would be on a ship, with many other soldiers who left their loved ones behind. While they were en route to Japan, and being chased by a submarine, the war ended. But Dad would still spend 11 months away from home, first in the Philippines where he drove a truck and dodged snipers for three months, then back to Japan for occupational duty guarding prisoners of war put to the task of rebuilding war-torn roads. Those first three months must have seemed like an eternity for him because there were 103 letters waiting for him when he finally reached Japan.

Dad was a self-taught musician. He learned a few chords from his dad and, in the early years of getting to know my mom, he sat on his front porch and played his guitar. Mom sat on her front porch --- next door --- and listened. Guess they were both a little shy. That subtle courtship led to almost 54 years of marriage, four children, nine grandchildren and 18 great-grandchildren.

Music was such a strong connection with Dad. It was so natural to see him sitting in the living room, guitar perched on his knee as he played and either whistled or hummed songs like “Blue Skies,” “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?” or my favorite, ”Little Coquette.” He loved the more jazzy sounds of “Kansas City Blues” and many others that I never knew had a name.

We have precious few pictures of these moments in time. Photographing him playing the guitar would have been like taking a snapshot of someone brushing his teeth or eating dinner. He made the decision early on to choose family over seeking the world of entertainment, though he surely would have had great success with his talent. Sunday lunch was prepared to the strains of “Amazing Grace,” “Just a Closer Walk” and any other requests spoken by the busy kitchen brigade. Sometimes my sister and I managed to slip away from our assigned jobs and into the living room to sing with him.

The photo below is of the band Dad played with on a local radio show in Oklahoma City. He is standing, second from the left.


His “real” career began as a delivery boy for Veazy’s Drug stores. He delivered prescriptions, first on a bicycle and later on a Harley. That job, briefly interrupted by the war, eventually led to managing shipping and receiving departments for two similar chains. The constant lifting of heavy boxes kept his muscled shoulders strong until they were ravaged by the lung cancer that would end his life three months before his 74th birthday.


Along with music, Dad’s legacy was his faith and love for his family. He was a deacon, Sunday School teacher and, in his later years, a choir member. Mom remained his sweetheart until the day he died. He required very little for himself --- an occasional new guitar, his favorite TV westerns, a couple of Studebakers (and later Fords) and lots of bowling. Those strong shoulders were meant for that sport.
Marion and Goldie McCall
50th Wedding Anniversary
August 22, 1990
I thought I would stop breathing at the same time as Dad. But God just gives us the strength to carry on and the hope that makes us long for our eternal home with each of our loved ones.



Love you, Dad
See you soon.

"How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked,
Nor stand in the path of sinners,
Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
And in His law he meditates day and night
He will be like a tree planted by streams of water,
Which yields its fruit in its season
And its leaf does not wither;
And in whatever he does, he prospers.”
(Psalm 1:1-3, NASB)

Thursday, May 8, 2014

A Softer Voice, the Book



      

          It's been roughly 14 months since I promised my mother, Goldie Opal Anderson McCall, that I would fulfill her request to gather several years' worth of poetry, blog posts, and Christian Women's Voice magazine articles into a collection. And now she resides in the realm of eternity in Heaven where time is no longer a factor.
          I tried to wiggle out of this project with some very creative objections and excuses, but I knew too well by the look in those brown eyes that she wasn't buying into any of them. So…I promised to honor her request. She knew I would keep my word and (eventually) complete a labor of love simply because she asked me to.
          When Mother's health began to rapidly decline, it became evident that my late-night typing would not speed the process enough for her to see the finished product. To reassure her, I took the Introduction, Acknowledgement and a few articles, read them to her and vowed to complete the task.
          Here's to you, Mom. Thanks for a lifetime of love, encouragement, support, and...patience. I may not be able to place the first copy in your hands (I think we would enjoy a little laugh over the yellow roses on the cover), but I do surrender A Softer Voice in book form to the Author and Finisher of our faith, Christ Jesus.
          I'm so blessed to have landed on www.FaithWriters.com a few years ago. This network of likeminded Christians with a heart for sharing our faith through writing has become a very special circle of friends who are the first to offer encouragement and support to others. What seemed to be a small and tenuous step led to a writer's conference, a blogging class, Clearing the Blog Fog, by Patty Wysong, the opportunity to share at www.JewelsofEncouragment.com, and an invitation from Debbie Dillon to be a contributor for Christian Women's Voice magazine (www.christianwomensvoice.org). God knew I needed to be led through this wonderful maze with baby steps.  The beautiful new face on this blog is the creative work of another FaithWriter friend, Marita Thelander. Thanks, Mari! 
           Mandy Sullivan Kniskern is a proofreader extraordinaire and just happens to be my daughter. When God placed her (and her sweet family) in our home this past year, she couldn't have known she would be spending late-night hours reading through heavy eyelids looking for typos and other errors. Thank you, Mandy!   
          And a heart full of gratitude to my very best friend, Bud, whose patient character is the benchmark for our marriage in ways too many to list. His hard work each day has allowed me the privilege to be a stay-at-home wife and, at one time, mom. This quieter time in my life means I get to pursue what I enjoy. Thank you, Bud!  
          Following is the link to Friesen Press where A Softer Voice can be purchased for download, paperback or hardback. Many thanks to Mariam Ordubadi, Author Account Manager; Ashley Good, Book Promotion Specialist; and other team members (known to me only by their first names) Geoff, Carmen, Shari, Ceilidh, and Publishing Consultant Tim Plakeolli. A special thank you to the Art Department for the beautiful original art for the cover. Each one of you helped to make this self-published effort blossom into the best it could be.

http://www.friesenpress.com/bookstore/title/119734000012346379

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/nancy-k.-Sullivan

http://www.amazon.com/Softer-Voice-Sharing-Family-Friends/dp/1460229533/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1400524115&sr=1-2&keywords=A+Softer+Voice

http://www.amazon.com/Softer-Voice-Sharing-Family-Friends-ebook/dp/B00KC1KQMY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1400524211&sr=8-1&keywords=A+Softer+Voice

"For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth,
 visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities
---all things have been created through Him and for Him.
He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together."
(Colossians 1:16-17 NASB)