Eight Years...

Eight years since I held my sister's hand...we used to hold hands walking in a mall, or sitting together in church.  I know that seems weird to somebody else but it was normal for us.  We were sisters, very close, and very affectionate.  It was an unusual closeness between sisters.  The older we got, the more it meant to spend time together.  The last Facebook message she sent to me was to tell me she was checking flights to come and visit me in Cleveland, Tennessee.  Which was less expensive?  Flying into Chattanooga or Knoxville airport?  What dates would be good for us?  She never got to fly down.

Eight years since I spent the night sleeping in her room...when we were kids we shared a room.  Then when we moved to Ohio we each had our own rooms, but it seemed like I'd end up sleeping in the extra bed that was in her room because we'd do our homework together and listen to the radio.  Many times I'd fall asleep in her room and just stay there all night.  When we lived together in Wilmore, Kentucky (before each of us got married) it was just normal for us!  Together again!

Eight years since I leaned over her bed and sang one of our songs in her ear and told her where her parts came in...and we had been singing together for many years!  Our first duet in church was "There's a Song in the Air" at Christmas-time in Woodlawn, Virginia.  I was six and she was nine.  That's where it really started and then we went on to sing duets for - basically - the rest of our lives together!  

Eight years since our family members and friends began to gather at a hospital in Cincinnati to say our last goodbyes.  Vangie was already being kept alive by machines.  Did she know we were there or even heard the words we said to her?  Maybe she did.  I've heard that a person's last sense to go was their hearing when they're in a state like that.  I sure hope so.  

There was so much I wanted her to know before she went away.  

We weren't done.  

And eight years since I posted this on Facebook, January 19, 2013:

Vangie is being kept comfortable now. Doctors figure it won't be long before she moves to Heaven. She's prayed for healing for 10 or 15 years and is going to finally get it. And she'll get to meet the two babies she carried under her heart but never got to hold. 

Thank you for your prayers...

I think about my sister every day.  I miss her.  And when it gets close to the date when she went to Heaven, you'll probably see me write about her again.  Numbering the years.  

Always remember...if you have a pulse, you have a purpose.  Make your life count.

September 1st

Today, I'm sharing something I praise God for because, even when I didn’t know it, God had his Sovereign Hand on me. I hope you’ll stay with me till the end. Maybe I've posted something similar before, but this was on my heart yesterday, which was September 1st. Here goes... 

47 years ago today, I almost married the wrong man. 

Our invitations had been printed, inviting family and friends to an afternoon wedding on September 1, 1973 in Sabina, Ohio. Peach colored bridesmaids’ dresses, black groomsmen’s tuxedos were on order. My wedding dress was hanging on a closet door in my apartment. Everything for the rehearsal dinner and wedding reception had been ordered, awaiting the occasions. All the plans were made! 

…except for one thing. One Sunday afternoon, just six weeks before the wedding, he and I sat on the floor of my living room and got real with each other. We knew we loved each other, but there was some confusion on both our parts, and we had to admit that we didn’t love each other enough to stay together the rest of our lives! After several hours of talking, and tears shed by both of us…we decided we couldn’t get married. It was a mutual decision. It was a decision that was best for both of us. You see, neither one of us had invited Christ to have control of our lives. We went to church when it was expected of us (when we were visiting my parents or his over the weekend). But Jesus had no part of our lives, together or individually. 

It was a few weeks after that Sunday afternoon decision, I visited my parents at Camp Sychar, the camp meeting I’ve attended all my life. Dr. Dennis Kinlaw, president of Asbury College at that time, was there that day. He had lunch with my parents and me, asking what my future plans were. I chattered a little about singing in coffee houses and working my third year at a job that was okay. Not great, but okay. Just after saying goodbye to my parents, he turned and asked me a question I couldn’t answer. “Just what is it you’re looking for, Beth?” 

Simple enough question. But I couldn’t answer it. I’d been doing lots of things, working that full-time job for the state of Ohio, and a part-time job as cashier at a popular Italian restaurant in Columbus, singing folk music in any coffee house that invited me, and not one single thing brought me joy. I made money to pay my bills with a little left over, but that was all I had to show for it. I just looked at Dr. Kinlaw and honestly said, “I don’t know.” He patted my shoulder and said he’d pray that I’d find it, then walked away.  

Seven hours later, during the evening service, I couldn’t wait for the preacher to stop preaching so I could go to the altar! I knew I needed Jesus. I’d talked a good game for years, went to church (when I had to), tried to be good. But that night, the place in my heart that could only be filled by Jesus, was a gaping empty hole! I practically ran to that altar! My daddy and his best friend – another dear pastor, Dale Riggs – came to me and prayed with me as I asked the Lord to change me, fill me, and help me. I finally said a strong Yes to Jesus that night and I’ve never looked back! 

All this is significant as I tell you this: there were circumstances that had to fall into place for me to be where God would bring Joe and me together. 

While I was planning and calling off a wedding in 1973, Joe was taking a summer semester Greek class. 

While he was at home packing up to go back for his last year at Asbury Theological Seminary – I was stepping out in faith and leaving Columbus, Ohio to live with my sister for a while until I knew what God wanted me to do. 

While I was telling my parents I’d never marry a preacher, God was setting me up to meet Joe Green six weeks later. 

While I didn’t always attend, I was at an evening service at Wilmore UMC when Joe walked in with a bunch of girls from the college. After that service, he put the girls in his car and came back in and found me. He said, “You’re Vangie’s sister. You sing. I’d like to hear you sometime. Why don’t you sing for your supper tomorrow night!” 

That was it. Three months later we got married. I don’t recommend that for everyone but it’s worked out well for us for 46 years! 

There are a lot of other things that seemed like coincidences but when we’d look back we realize they were God’s way of getting us both in His Will. God had His hand on both of us! We may not have been aware of it at the time, but He had plans for us! Together! Thanks be to God! 

Don’t ever wonder if God cares about every aspect of your life, dear ones! He does! And there are promises of His goodness, mercy, grace, and care all through His Word. Get into it and find out! You’ll never be the same after you’ve said a strong YES to Jesus Christ! The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are moving together as One to guide your life! 

Give your future to Jesus! Jeremiah 29:11-13 (NIV) "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." 

God bless everyone reading these words! I love y’all, and that’s why I wanted to share this personal story with you. I know it’s long, but I’m praying it will give you hope and confidence in The One who holds you in the palm of His hand!

Determination

During this Coronavirus situation, our church staff is sending a devotional every day to members and friends of Alcoa First UMC. My turn falls on Tuesdays, so I thought I'd share this one on my blog as well.


A female Cardinal has decided to use the front door of our little house in Maryville as her target. Every day. There are lots of similar glass storm doors in our neighborhood, but she prefers ours! I call her my Kamikaze Kardinal! She is determined, that’s for sure! And I’m amazed that she doesn’t have some kind of permanent damage from the way she crashes into that door. She either flies straight into the door from our little Japanese maple bush, or she sits on our welcome mat and flies up into the glass. Since I’m home all the time now, I’ve realized that she almost has a rhythm in her crashes because I can just about time her next hit! We even put shower caps on our rear view mirrors to keep her from hitting them, too. She NEVER gives up! Since we live in the south, all I can say is, “Bless her heart.” She certainly is determined.

Determination. With what’s happening in our world right now, we have to be determined about a lot of things: determined to do social distancing, determined to stay home. I read the other day: ‘We’re not stuck at home, we’re safe at home. One word can change your attitude and one cough could change your life.’

Another thing that we must be determined about is trusting God even when we don’t see His hand or His plan. Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Okay, God. Anytime you want to reveal yourself in this, I’m open to it. But you know what? He’s already revealing himself in every situation! Just because I can’t see Him doesn’t mean He’s not working!

God’s revealing himself through the doctors, nurses, and hospital workers who are on the frontlines everywhere, doing all they can to make/keep people well…through the scientists and medical people that are working for a drug to fight this virus…for a vaccine. He’s revealing himself through all the law enforcement officers, EMTs, civil servants, the pharmacists, the people who keep the shelves stocked…and I could go on and on.

My husband, Joe, gave me an example about trusting God: "Have you ever signed your name to a blank check, and let someone else fill in the amount? Or a contract, and let someone else decide all the terms and conditions? We’ll never know the will of God if we approach it saying I want to find out God’s will before I decide if His will fits my plans."

There comes a point in our lives where we must say, God, I don’t like what’s happening, but I love You. I don’t understand all this, but I trust You.

Prayer: Father, this is a strange time, and we know we should trust you, but it’s hard. Will you please take our fears and doubts, and help us learn to trust you even when nothing is making sense right now? We don’t like what is happening, but we love you. We don’t understand all this, but we trust you. Amen.

Saying goodbye...

It didn't take long for me to realize how much I missed having a dog around the house. It'd been about a year since our toy poodle, Abraham "Abie" had crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Telling Joe I'd never have another dog because it hurt too bad to say goodbye, he knew in his heart I couldn't hold out. Obadiah "Dobie" joined our family in 2004. Our daughter accused me of getting another toy poodle to replace her when she was planning to leave for college in the fall of that year. He wasn't a replacement, but he sure was good company when I was missing her so much!

Yes, she was only 12 miles up the road at University of Tennessee.
Yes, she came home on the weekends to do laundry.
Yes, she'd call me sometimes while walking to her classes.
(...and, yes, I missed her so bad I could hardly stand it, but I'd never admit that to her.)

For 15 1/2 years, Dobie was a part of our family. He knew us so well that he had us figured out! He knew our schedule! This dog wouldn't even stand up from his bed, stretch and yawn prior to going out for his morning constitutional until he heard Joe putting his keys in his pocket! Dobie had his own little routine, as well!

Over time, this lively little guy settled into a more quiet lifestyle. Dobie loved to be next to us in a chair or on the sofa. He didn't actually sit on our laps much - unless he was riding in the car. And he didn't particularly like riding in a car, but the Valium prescription the vet gave us made trips a lot easier.

We lived in Alcoa, then Cleveland (TN), Kingsport, and finally in Maryville. Dobie adjusted well to each house but the last one. By the time we moved to Maxwell Lane, he couldn't see much and his hearing was rapidly diminishing. Seizures started to occur a lot more often, and the last two seemed to really mess him up. Our little guy's life had been much more difficult these last several months and we knew it was just a matter of time. When he would just stand in the middle of a room, not understanding/seeing where he was, we would move one of his little beds nearby and help him into it. He'd curl up and sleep for hours. He stopped eating, pretty much stopped drinking...and I think he was trying to tell us it was time to say goodbye.

Joe and I were in the car driving to a funeral on Saturday when I suggested maybe we needed to make the final arrangements for Dobie. He said that he'd been feeling that same way all morning. So we did it...

Sunday night, I gave him a bath and washed his blanket. On Monday, Joe and I took Dobie to his former veterinarian in Kingsport, Dr. Gary Andes, and signed papers for euthanasia. Gary was so kind and gentle with him - and with us, knowing we were hearbroken to do this. Then we took Dobie's body to Hamlett-Dobson Funeral Home where our nephew Jacob and his friend Steve Britt, carefully took care of our little guy. (The funeral home has a cremation service for pets - dignity and kindness for our sweet Dobie.)

I placed his frog leg (remnants of his very first toy from our dear friend Sue Martin) in his front paws, then wrapped Dobie in his favorite yellow blanket and said goodbye. And now we have a beautiful little wooden box with his cremains to remember him.

He's a dog! But it was heartbreaking to let him go! He was our fur-baby! I don't like goodbyes anyway, but this one was pretty tough. Dobie had a good life and he knew he was loved...even to the end.

He was the best dog we ever had...the smartest and healthiest...and still had all his teeth! He gave us a lot of joy and unconditional love, and we're grateful. Let me leave you with a few shots of this sweet baby-dog...

Aunt Edna

In my growing-up years, we lived in Virginia. Both my parents’ families were in Ohio and we would usually see the Moores and the Millers when we made our annual summer trip to Columbus and points beyond. Some of my memories include spending time with Grandma and Grandpa Miller in their home out in the country in Morrow County. Grandpa was a carpenter. Grandma sold greeting cards. My sister and I would sit for a long time during each visit and look through her big books filled with sample cards. Another thing we did (every single time we were there) was look through the photo albums they had from Japan. My daddy’s baby sister, Edna, and her husband Harold, were missionaries with the Wesleyan denomination and raised their family on the mission field in Japan. Uncle Harold was a superb photographer, so the many photos we saw looked professional to us. Grandma had many of those albums! We watched our cousins grow up through those pictures because we only saw them in person every few years when their family would be in the United States on furlough. Those photos were the way I knew my cousins from Japan! Thankfully, I know them better now that we're all grown! So thankful for all my wonderful cousins!

The thing I remember the most about those photos was my Aunt Edna. She always seemed to look so content and serene. Dignified. And she was so very beautiful! She played the piano and some of the photos would show her playing in what I assumed was their home, or in a church service. Other pictures would show them singing together. When they were in the States and the Miller family would make music…singing, playing the piano…just like we always did when we were together, I remember Aunt Edna’s voice. It was sweet, just like I knew it would be!

That voice fell silent on this earth, August 29, 2018 at 11:11 p.m. when she moved into the presence of her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. She was 94. She’s with her husband again. Her four children were with her when she passed…one of them on FaceTime, as she lives in Japan where she and her husband serve as missionaries.

But her sweet voice is not really silent at all, because she is busy praising the God that she served for so many years. And you can bet she and Uncle Harold are singing harmony with all those saints!

Edna Marie Miller Johnson leaves behind her four children and their families – Lorelei, Flossie, Tim, and Nathaniel, her baby brother, 90-year-old Jack – along with many nieces and nephews who loved and admired her.

To quote my sweet brother Joe, “God bless her forever.”













As always, I close my blog with this quote: "If you have a pulse, you have a purpose. Make your life count!"

Promises Kept

When our daughter was nine years old, a movie was released that she just had to see. “The Flintstones” was in theatres in the spring of 1994. Joe and I took Hannah to Roanoke, Virginia on his day off and we enjoyed popcorn, soft drinks, and family time watching the movie.

You know how it is when there’s a movie on HBO that you really, really like? I can watch the same one several times and not think a thing of it. Seeing “The Flintstones” once was plenty for me…but not for Hannah. A few days after our trip to Roanoke, she begged and begged to see it again. Joe told her they’d have a date night and go back for pizza and a movie.

The day before their big date came and she was getting excited. Then the phone rang…

Her daddy was a United Methodist minister, and if you know anything about that denomination you’ll know that there are lots and lots of meetings. Sometimes there are meetings to plan meetings! Joe was closest to the telephone while we were eating dinner, so he picked it up. You could tell from his side of the conversation that a specially called meeting had been set for the next evening. The chairman of the Finance Committee was calling to insure Joe would be there.

I saw Hannah’s face change as the conversation wore on. Her little eyes looked down as if she’d cry…but she didn’t. She was used to her daddy having to spend evenings now and again at the church. I watched her as Joe wrote down the time and place of the meeting. Her date night had been spoiled. I hurt for her because her daddy was very good at making time to spend with her on a regular basis. But this was the Finance Committee! Any preacher knows you don’t miss one of those!

Then he told the voice on the phone that they’d have to conduct the meeting without him. He had a previous engagement that couldn’t be broken.

She was his “previous engagement” and she knew it! When she heard those words Hannah’s eyes lit up! And a smile so big it could’ve lit up the room came across her face! Once again, Daddy kept his promise to her.

That’s his habit. If he gives you his word about something…even “The Flintstones” movie…he’ll keep it. I’ve grown accustomed to this in the 44 years we’ve been married.

When I was a kid, I remember times when my dad’s churches would take up so much of his time that he’d be eating dinner at 9 or 10:00 at night. When he first started as a pastor, he had five churches! Five! When we moved to a place that only had two churches, we thought we had arrived! Ha! But meetings, hospital visits and the like kept him pretty tied up. I’m not criticizing his dedication. His devotion to his ministry and his family were inspiring. But when you’re a kid, there are things that stick out in your mind.

When I was 14, my dad promised that he’d take me shopping to buy a dark skirt for a choral concert at school. My sister was in that chorus, too, and we had one dark skirt between us. I was growing taller and needed a new one. Dad told me what day we’d go after school and he’d take me to Wilsons (my favorite hamburger place) for supper after shopping.

The day came and Dad called the house to tell us that he’d be at the hospital all evening because a church member and their family needed him. No shopping. My heart sank. At the age of 14, I couldn’t understand why he’d need to spend an entire evening with church members!

Now, after being a pastor’s wife for all these years, I appreciate so much more why my dad did what he did. It’s the ministry. It was necessary! He was needed. That was his job and calling!

But what I saw Joe do for our little girl that night in 1994 has stuck in my mind all these years. I can still see the look on her face when she heard about his “previous engagement” and the delight she took in her daddy at that very moment!

Joe has been dedicated to his ministry for 46 years. He has been extremely effective every place he’s been appointed by the UMC. He's guided churches through building projects and renovations. Every church he's ever served has grown! I’m very proud of the pastor he’s been and the man he is. His love for Christ and His church is obvious. But in all that dedication, one thing he’s always done is family first! Over all these years, I’ve come to realize that not every pastor knows how to balance home and church. Joe does.

What you see is what I get! Joe is the same no matter what. He’s happy, dedicated, and a man who totally loves Jesus…and totally loves his wife and his family. Not every pastor’s spouse has this balance, but I can say with certainty that I do!

Now that he’s retired, we don’t know what God has in store for us, but we’ll be waiting to see. Meanwhile, there’s joy in the journey. Part of that joy comes from living with a man who keeps his promises. I am blessed.

i love you, Joe…



(I got my skirt, by the way. That night I dug around in my mother’s sewing patterns, pulled out some dark brown fabric, read the directions and sewed my own skirt on a sewing machine no one in our house had ever used!!! I’d never sewn before! A temper tantrum turned into a lifelong love of sewing!)



If you have a pulse, you have a purpose…so make your life count!

He mowed the grass in a tie!!!

This is a photo I took of my daddy one summer…and yes, he’s mowing in a tie!

When I was growing up, he usually had a tie on every single day. And he’d leave it on until bedtime because he never knew when a parishioner would need the pastor! It wasn’t until he retired that I saw Daddy in sports shirts and slacks!

His brother, Virgil, used to tell me that Daddy always looked like he’d “…just stepped off of a bandbox!” He told me that Daddy would press his own clothes so he’d get them just right. Grandma thought he was vain for doing that, and told him so. She was a member of the Friends (Quaker) denomination and pride was a thing to be shunned. (Guess it should be for anyone!) Uncle Virgil said that Grandma’s critique didn’t stop Daddy from looking his best. He was quite a handsome young man, so I’m sure all the young ladies appreciated his extra efforts!!! A few years later, our momma certainly did! Then she started ironing his clothes! (smile)

As a little girl – and even as a teenager – I would help my dad with chores. He’d be on one of those wheeled dollies that you lay down on to slide under a vehicle…and he’d pull me under the car with him on a gray wool blanket, so I could hold the light and hand tools to him as he worked. I still have that blanket. I remember at the age of nine, helping him change the shock absorbers on our 1957 Chevy! I loved it when he’d change the filter on his cars so I could cover them in aluminum foil, to pretend they were swimming pools for Barbie, Ken, Midge, and Skipper!!!

This past Friday, I took lunch to our very pregnant daughter. Sitting at her dining room table, I saw her New Yorker magazine cover and it made me smile and feel tears welling up in my eyes…all at the same time. It looked like something my daddy and I used to do! I was his shadow!

We had our moments – like the time his hearing was better than I anticipated. And the time he tried to teach me to drive a stick-shift, then stormed into the house, threw the keys at my sister and said, “I’m too old for this! YOU teach her!!!”

When Daddy was sick for three months, I spent a lot of time with him. He was in a nursing facility, but the medical folks were gracious enough to let me sleep in his room on a cot at the foot of his bed. I bathed him, helped him in the bathroom, changed his sheets, measured and emptied the bag filled with fluid coming from his liver, and anything else he needed. He cried one day as I bathed him, saying he hated that I had to do that for him. I told him it was my privilege…then to stop his tears, I told him a funny story about Mother. It’s the story I tell in my comedy routines now! He quit crying and chuckled, then laughed.

It was the last time I heard him laugh.

During those three months, we took care of some things. I asked a lot of questions. He answered them. I had a problem with the decision he and my mother made when they moved to take another church between my sophomore and junior years in high school. I asked why. And he told me. I was satisfied with the answer. And, as it turned out, that move was one of the best things that could have ever happened to me.

Another Father’s Day has come and gone without me being able to call Daddy to tell him how much I love him. He’s been gone for 17 years.

So I’ll tell you that I miss the man. I love him to this very day…




And just as I always do at the end of my blog postings, I’ll remind you of this: If you have a pulse, you have a purpose. Make your life count!