Special Moments

By Laura Coffman

These pages from Lauras journal go from joy to sorrow and back again.
They go from wondering and questioning about life and death to
imagining answers.
She doesnt claim that her answers are the only valid ones. She simply
hopes that they will encourage readers to fi nd their own.
Laura is now an eighty-eight-year-old widow. Still actively
involved in living. Even now, after all these years and all this
living, she finds life good.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781479761364

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Laura Coffman.

Library of Congress Control Number:        2012923023

ISBN:                  Hardcover                       978-1-4797-6135-7

                            Softcover                         978-1-4797-6134-0

                            Ebook                              978-1-4797-6136-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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85174

Contents

I. Special Moments

II. Seasons of My Life

III. War and Peace

IV. Ponderings

V. The Last Chapter

Introduction

The many hours I spend in stitchery, the wakeful hours in the middle of the night, and the hours I spend writing in a journal—all give me time to be ME. It is again time to enjoy happy times that cannot return, except in memory. It is time to examine painful memories—and let them go. It is time to think about who I am and what I believe.

It has been good to put these thoughts into words, but I have no pretensions as a writer. I have had no training for it. I just have an overpowering interest in words and what they can mean. However, I do not apologize for them. They are simply conversations with myself, with friends, or with God. They are my way of coping with a world I have difficulty understanding and in which I have no influence. They are my way of focusing—not on the big things I cannot do, but on the small things I can.

I share some of them now, hoping that they will stir up the memories of those who read them, so that they will share their own memories with each other—and perhaps with God.

Chapter 1

Special Moments

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— Special Moments —

Now and then during my life, there have been special moments—times when it seemed that the sun shone so brightly and the sky was so blue that God seemed close enough to touch—and we talked together, God and me. At those times, living was easy. Extended family and friends gathered around me in joyful celebration and laughter.

However, there were other times—times when the storm clouds hung so heavily and the sky was so gray and dark that God seemed too far away to hear my prayers—when he did not talk with me. It wasn’t until the storms had passed that I realized God had heard and answered my prayers, although it was often not in the way I expected. Just living was hard. It was during those times that my extended family and friends gathered around me, mourned with me, and wept with me. They could not take away the storms, but they supported me while I endured them.

I am grateful for those who were with me in both joy and sorrow, laughter and tears. I often wonder how anyone can manage alone.

This collection of Special Moments, in no particular order, is shared in the hope that they will awaken memories of a reader’s own Special Moments.

Scattered here and there among them are thoughts from my three gifted children. Karen is an artist and a writer. Gary is an educator and a counselor. His art is expressed in his words, his photographs, and his garden. Carl is a multimedia artist and a talented musician. All three value people more than things. They have given me permission to share some of their thoughts with you as they were shared with Wayne and me on occasions like birthdays and other special days.

And now my Special Moments,

Laura

Butterfly Moments

come at unexpected times,

making me aware of God’s presence

in OUR WORLD

My reaction is one of awe and wonder

and pure joy.

Sabbath Moments

are different,

making me aware of God’s presence

in MY LIFE

They too may bring me joy,

but it is joy tempered

by illness or sorrow or pain or regret or

loneliness.

My conscious reaction to these moments

is that of gratitude to God

—and to those who act for God.

Our daughter, Karen, told me

that she calls such moments

thin times

and explained further

by saying that when they come,

the curtain between her and God

becomes so thin

that she can see him more clearly than usual.

On Sunday

a sermon tied all these thoughts together

with one short word, Peace

—God’s gift of a Peace

that passes all understanding.

Deo Gratia!

Laura

Clouds Alive

(MONTANA SKIES)

Dear Dad,

This Thanksgiving, I wanted to thank you for teaching me to love the sky. I remember times at Billings Weather Bureau looking at pictures of clouds and learning their names, helping to launch weather balloons (I thought they smelled like skunks, and I still like the skunk smell!), and looking through the telescope at the moon. I remember how gathering hailstones for ice cubes made storms more fun. I remember getting up to go outside and look at the absolutely amazing aurora. I hope you enjoy my cloud poems.

Love,

Karen

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— A Butterfly Moment —

My God—

A bit of a melody, a fragment of lyrics came into my mind out of the blue—like a butterfly comes out of a blue sky to alight in my garden. Perhaps you knew that I needed a Butterfly Moment just now.

I do not know why songs come into my mind in this way, but with them come memories of a time, a place, a person—and special happiness.

Thank you, God.

Laura

Sabbath Moments

Because of something I read recently, I was made more fully aware that the number of moments in my life is finite—and while I am only partly responsible for what is contained in each of these moments, I am the only one responsible for the way I treat each one. I can hold it gently in my hands as if it were a helpless newborn baby or a delicate piece of artwork of great worth, or I can hold it as if it were a worthless piece of litter picked up by the roadside. It is up to me.

The author talked about the biblical commandment to Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy. —and how that is a reminder that time has a sacred quality, if we will but let it—like the timeless moment in the midst of a busy life when life seems to stand still and bless us—bless us in the sense that Jesus described in the Beatitudes—not only in moments of joy, but also when we are in deep sorrow or pain or need. In this commandment, God asks us to realize that time becomes more precious—more sacred—when it is not taken for granted and is spent as if it had little value.

In our present-day society, there are few of us who can dedicate an entire day to keep the Sabbath. But each of us can find time for Sabbath Moments in all the days of the week. The author quoted Tagore, who wrote, The butterfly counts not months, but moments, and has time enough. Then the author continued, and I quote, We need these Sabbath Moments, these Butterfly Moments in which the present moment is enough, for too much of our energy is consumed in going faster and faster into the future. We can’t alter time’s pace, but we can slow ourselves down enough to allow time to deepen, and thus, make possible our awareness of time’s sacred quality.

For me, the author’s butterfly moments are different from mine, which describe moments of God-given joy. Nevertheless, I can relate to Sabbath Moments, and I have been trying to watch for them. The more I do, the more often they seem to come. I have beguna new collection of such moments in written form so that I can remember—and I’d like to share two of them with you.

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Today someone smiled at me.

Her world was filled with sorrow.

Her eyes were filled with tears.

Yet she smiled at me.

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A friend died today, just six days before his ninety-sixth birthday.

I knew him only these last five years, but how I have been blessed

By his stories of nearly one hundred years of living.

His last weeks were pain-filled and we no longer shared stories,

But I can imagine this man of faith talking with his God.

I doubt that he used the words,

But surely he expressed the thoughts in this bit of Scripture.

"I have fought the good fight.

I have finished the race.

I have kept the faith."

And added, My God, please take me home.

I was glad when I learned of the death of my friend

And I seemed to hear God say to him,

Welcome home, my son, welcome home.

Laura

— A Sabbath Moment —

To me, a Sabbath Moment is an awareness of the unique value of a certain moment in time. It may come in joy, like my Butterfly Moments, but may also come in moments of sorrow, pain, or need. I cannot buy it nor sell it. I can share it, but I cannot hang on to it. I must simply savor it and be blessed by it.

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Tomorrow will be our sixtieth anniversary, and this evening, I have been thinking about a song that was popular about fifty years ago. Sometimes I sang it to the one I love. There was not much melody for the lyrics. They simply went up the scale one line at a time. This is the way it went—where I could not remember the exact words, I substituted my own.

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All of a sudden my heart sings

When I remember little things.

The way you look and smile at me.

Across the room for all to see.

The way you sometimes hold my hand.

To let me know you understand.

The glow of moonlight in your eyes.

Your little laugh of half surprise.

The invitation in your glance.

The laughter as we try to dance.

The times that come when we face fears.

And we can even share our tears.

The look of love upon your face.

The way I feel in your embrace.

Remembering all these little things.

All of a sudden my heart sings.

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Surely, moments like these shared by a husband and wife are sacred moments, unique for each, even though such moments are common in nearly all marriages. I have been blessed to have them in my life for more than sixty years—and I am grateful.

Laura

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Heights

Spirits of aerie

            wrapped in

            mist and

            shadow,

Ensemble dance and weave,

            constructs of sunlight,

            architecture of

            delight,

            harmony of

            power,

Assembling between rock and star,

            chorus sings

            of wind

            and aurora,

            lightning

            and ice.

When your song

            touches earth,

            I dance too.

                                    Karen

— A Sabbath Moment —

Spending time remembering my mother is usually a Sabbath Moment—and recently the media’s coverage of the late Pope John Paul reminded me of her.

In the eyes of the world, the pope and my mother are very different, but I think that in the eyes of God, they are very much alike.

They both endured many invasions of their bodies by doctors and nurses without losing their dignity. Both of them endured much pain without losing their faith. Both of them had the ability to empathize with others, no matter how different they seemed on the surface. Both of them demonstrated that there is always room for one more in a circle of love. Both of them accepted all of the oddities of life without losing their sense of humor. Both of them taught us how to live—and how to die.

I am grateful that I have such role models for the years remaining to me.

Laura

Evening

Flatlanders

            often gaze

            upward—

            at the exalted expanse

            before

            and above—

            and stand in awe.

Yet dare you look

            into heavenly deeps

            and still stand?

Cling tightly now to earth,

            or you may fly

            through the void

            in that sunset-gloried

            nimbus, to soar celestial

            amongst aurora-veiled

            stars.

                                    Karen

— Sabbath Moments —

My God—

I seem to be thinking a lot about music lately—and it has always been a special pleasure in my life. I am grateful that although I sing only in a crowd these days, my sense of hearing is still very good.

Still, God, I think you have other ways to bring music into my life.

Sometimes, at night, when sleep does not come easily, I think about hymns. I imagine myself singing hymns.

Perhaps they are those I learned as a child—like Jesus Loves Me. Perhaps they are those I sang in choir—like The Messiah. Perhaps they were sung in a congregation—like Amazing Grace.

When I need comfort, I find a hymn like Take My Hand, Precious Lord—and sometimes I simply need to sing praises like Then Sings My Soul.

Whatever hymns I find in that quiet, semiconscious isolation, I can remember the words of whole hymns—something I cannot do consciously in the middle of a busy day.

I call these hymns God’s Lullabies.

Thank you, God.

Laura

My God—

Fall is my favorite season of the year for several reasons. One of those is that it is when our planet earth is dressed so spectacularly in celebration.

Another reason is that last week a friend died, and the death of a friend always reminds me of one of Carl’s works of art—a