Author: delilalumbardy@gmail.com

Early scales were balance scales, consisting of a beam with a pivot point and two pans hanging from each end. Objects were placed on one pan and weights on the other until the two pans balanced, indicating that the weights were equal. The earliest known center-beam scales were used by Egyptians in 1878 BC.

I remember the use of scales from an early age. We would go to town once a week to do our weekly shopping. Nearly every business we went into had a scale and I soon realized these devices were very important. Our first stop was often the hardware store. Dad would grab a handful of nails out of the bin and place them into the scoop on the scale. He would write the weight on the paper bag and the clerk would calculate the cost at the register. Our next stop was the grocery store. This time, I tagged along with Mom. She would put her apples in the pan of the scale and once the arrow was still, she would mentally tally how much the apples were going to cost. If it was more than she liked, one would go back into the bin. The pie would still be flavorful, but not quite as robust. Our last stop in town was always the Coop. Dad would drive up onto the weighbridge. The attendant inside would weigh us (the truck plus all its contents), then give Dad a two-finger salute and a smile when he was finished. (That’s Sandhills sign language for “pull ahead.”) Dad would drive forward towards the loading augers, pulling directly under the spout.

Scales have advanced over my lifetime, just as most other things have. Now, most scales are digital and use what’s called Strain Gauge technology. Instead of using a metal or wooden beam, they use transducer beams that are specially engineered to bend in proportion to the weight of the load placed on the scale, making them exceptionally accurate.

In Biblical times scales would have been used for much the same things they are today. It’s not hard to imagine scales at many booths in the open market. Figs, pomegranates, and precious metals may have been a few things sold by weight. Just like today, the more the item weighed the greater its value. In our culture this concept has overlapped onto even those things that are not weighed on a scale…the more powerful, wealthier, and famous one seems to be, the more value we allot to that person.

Imagine now that you have you been invited to step up onto God’s scale. Surely, God will be pleased with the accomplishments that have brought you wealth and prestige. But, to your astonishment, the scale does not move. How can this be, you ask? We only need to look as far as Psalm 62:9. From the greatest to the lowliest – all are nothing in his sight. If you weigh them on the scales, they are lighter than a puff of air. God’s scale obviously measures differently. Those that have obtained power, wealth, or prestige carry no more weight than the homeless man under the bridge. What then, does His scale measure? We find that answer in Eph. 5:22-23. It’s not apples, but spiritual fruit. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control – those are the things that “weigh” to God. It’s not impossible to tip God’s scale, but it won’t be with power, prestige, and wealth.

Until next time – keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin.’

I like old pictures. I’m not sure why. Maybe, it’s the mystery involved with them. I can think of a hundred questions when I look at the familial display of old pictures hanging in my hallway. Did my great- grandmother in the late 1800’s have more than the one good dress she is wearing? How much fabric went into that outfit? How hard was it to talk my great-grandfather into dressing up and getting his picture taken? What’s with all the mustaches in the group photo of the great-greats and greats? But what I’m always most curious about is – why so serious? Most of my family from both sides were Christians and there’s plenty to say in the Bible about joy…like Psalm 32:11: Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice…shout for joy! My great-grandfather on my Dad’s side was a pastor. My great-grandmother on my Mom’s side never went to the storm shelter without her Bible. But, you’d never know it by looking at their pictures – they looked every bit as sullen as the rest of the sour group.

It’s so different than how we do pictures today. We all know the photographer is going so say “smile” when she’s ready to snap the picture and we comply. We look like we are loving life, even if it’s not quite so on that particular day. So what has changed in a few generations?

Was life so very hard for my ancestors that they didn’t feel they could smile, even for photos? This was a bothersome thought for me; especially since I keep a quiver full of coping mechanisms based around humor, smiles and laughter. It was unimaginable to me that folks were so downtrodden that they couldn’t bring themselves to smile for the few seconds it takes to snap a picture. I wasn’t ready to accept that concept. It was time to dig deeper and unearth the real truth about these solemn expressions.

I grabbed my coffee cup and my smart phone and sat down to do some in depth reading on the matter. I never expect to rely on just one source so I settled into my favorite chair to do research. The more articles I read, the more my face relaxed. I began to wish I had researched this a long time ago. It would have saved me needless concern. I must apologize to my great-grandfather pastor and my Bible toting great-grandmother for my ill thoughts of their questionable hypocrisy. What I discovered in my research was that in those days of early photography development, it took several minutes to take a photo because cameras relied on slow chemical reactions. A smile was more difficult to hold for a long period of time, so people grimaced or looked very serious. We snap a picture in less then a second in today’s world. My question was answered…it was photography that changed and that makes me smile.

Until next time….keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

Some things are just too coincidental, or as I like to believe – not coincidental at all. More like, Someone greater than ourselves is in control and He orchestrates many things. One such incident of orchestration happened this week to my youngest son.

My sons’ dad (my first husband) passed away on Thanksgiving in Nebraska. Both Daniel and Caleb had flown in to see their dad over the Labor Day Weekend, knowing his condition was becoming more unstable. Daniel lives on the west coast; Caleb on the east.

When I spoke to Caleb this past week, I could tell things were not going well. Dean, their 3 1/2-year-old autistic son was having a very difficult week. Because he is non-verbal, it’s nearly impossible to know why he’s crying and continuously hitting his head on the floor. No one was sleeping, everyone was on edge, and it was looking to Caleb like he wasn’t going to be able to come for his dad’s service. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, so he was more stressed than ever.

I felt that what Caleb was battling was more than just a run of discouraging episodic adversities. He admitted to being down spiritually too. “The more I pray, the worse it seems to get,” he told me. When we are down trodden, it’s hard to remember we have strength we can fall back on other than our own. In these times when we feel especially vulnerable or weak, those are the times we can rely upon the Lord’s mighty power. I encouraged him to read Ephesians 6 and to put on the armor of God so he could stand firm against the tricks of the Devil. (verses 10-11) The Roman soldier’s belt held everything he needed for hand-to-hand combat, (sword, rope, ration, sack, darts) and the spiritual belt of truth mentioned in theses verses holds everything together the Christian needs for spiritual battle. We are also to put on the breast plate of righteousness that protects our heart, the shoes of the gospel of peace that provides stability and traction in tense situations, the shield of faith that deflects the arrows shot at us from Satan, the helmet of salvation that protects our minds. Last but not least we pick up our sword of the Spirit (the Word of God), to finish out our armor when fighting Satan. (The devil hates Scripture because he knows it’s the truth.)

Dean was put on medicine for a possible ear infection and given hydroxyzine (non-narcotic) to help him sleep. Steph felt like she could handle things now that Dean was being treated and was settling down.

Post mortem services always consist of …. some hard times….and some good times. The boys – both living on opposite coasts have had little opportunity to stay connected with cousins that all live in the Midwest. Maybe, that’s why the oldest cousin, Amy, decided to give the boys each a Christmas gift while they were together. It had been nearly 20 years since these cousins had been together and they knew little of each other’s daily lives and struggles. She picked out two totally different kinds of gifts for her cousins. When Caleb texted me a picture of his gift, he called it “awesome.” And indeed it was, sending goosebumps down my spine. It was one of those gifts when you say….”How did you know?” I don’t see this as a coincidence. I find it much more plausible that it was Amy listening to the Spirit inside of her and then obeying. What she sat down in front of Caleb was a very unique gift. I have never seen one – a statue representing the Full Armor of God along with a pack of devotional cards with the same theme. What might this have all said to Caleb? I guess we’d have to ask him that question, but it seems to me it would have brought reassurance that God hasn’t forgotten him; that He’s there through the good and the bad times. Whatever came to mind for Caleb, I’m sure he was in need of it.

Until next time…Keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

Have you ever known anyone that didn’t recognize his spiritual gift; yet it was very apparent to others? I know such a person and his gift played a part in my life this last week.

1 Corinthians 12:28 talks about some of these different gifts, one of which is the gift of helps. And Romans 12 :7 tells us that if you have the gift of serving others, serve them well. It is obvious to me that this friend has this gift. I’ve picked this up from conversations we’ve had, but this week I experienced it personally. Let me tell you the story.

Ivan and his wife, Arlene, belong to the same Bible Study group that I do. We call ourselves the Youth Group; although this title is a bit misleading. Jan, another member, jokingly called us the Youth Group one day and it stuck. We meet every week and rotate homes to gather in. In between meetings we communicate by group text.

As a senior citizen and living alone, I have been made to promise to let someone know before engaging in risky behavior. So….it was just natural for me to send out a text to the group this week regarding my planned activity for the afternoon. My text read: Hi guys. I’m going to go clean my gutters and will be on my roof. It usually takes me about an hour. I just like to let someone know when I’m up on the roof. I will let you know as soon as I’m down. I’ll have my phone with me.

Unbeknownst to me, several texts were being fired back, but I was already focused on lugging the cumbersome ladder into the flower bed, while keeping my balance. Heavy ladders are a bit of a challenge for my 5 foot fine-boned frame. If you’ve formed a picture of a vertically challenged woman trying to control an aluminum ladder that’s waving in the air six feet above her head…that’s fairly accurate.

Bucket in hand, I clamber up the ladder. Once I get to the top and contemplate how I will maneuver over to the roof, I realize it would have been smart to have left the back gate unlocked in case things didn’t go according to plan. I give a sigh of relief when my feet are solidly planted on the roof. I have a fear of edges so I sit down quickly. My posterior has a wider base than my size six feet; I feel more secure contacting the roof with my largest part.

If it’s a nice warm day, like it was this day, I enjoy the view from the roof. I think it’s quite entertaining to watch people as they walk by – having no idea they are under surveillance. The things people say to their dogs!

I scooted along on the back side of the house, throwing gutter contents into my bucket. When you’re not doing a pleasant job, there’s still satisfaction in knowing you are getting the job done. That’s what I was thinking about as well as relishing in the thought that I had picked a beautiful day to do it. I finished up on the back side of the roof and made my way to the other side. As I step over the roof ridge (standing up now that I’m away from the edge), I get a surprise. Instead of just dogs and neighbors passing by, there was Maridel and Ivan standing in my yard – both fellow members of the Youth Group. “What are you guys doing here?” I called down from the roof. “Coming to help you,” Ivan said. “And I came over to make sure you hadn’t fallen and broken your neck,” Maridel said. She admitted to being scared of heights so seeing I was fine, she went home to bake cookies. I never expected all this attention!

No matter what I said, Ivan would not be persuaded to stay on the ground. We worked steadily until the gutters were slime, mud, and leaf free.

Gotquestions.org states that some see the gift of helps as given to those who are willing to “lend a hand” and do even the most mundane and disagreeable tasks with a spirit of humility and grace. That’s Ivan – even if he doesn’t know it. How many jobs can you think of that are as mundane as cleaning gutters? He will likely be helping people until he no longer can. I don’t imagine that will be any time soon. After all – he’s only 87.

Until next time – keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

This past week, my sister and I took a road trip to Wisconsin. Our initial reason for planning this trip was to visit our last remaining aunt and uncle. We soaked up the stories Uncle Wendell and Aunt LeVila told while we relaxed in their living room. We asked many questions and they graciously answered every one of them. Not that they don’t enjoy telling stories – after all, they owned and produced the weekly Muscoda paper for decades. I was four years old when my dad and Uncle Wendell loaded up his and Aunt LeVila’s belongings into Dad’s stock truck and we took off for a world too far away. Revisiting these memories from so long ago was indeed delightful, but we found other gems along the trip as well. Once I got home and reviewed all we had seen and done, it came to mind, that as beautiful as the autumn is in Wisconsin with its peaceful hillsides of reds, oranges, yellows and left-over greens, the ultimate take home for me was the building up and knitting together of past relationships.

Traveling down highway 20 on our way home, we detoured off the road a couple of miles to the tiny village of McLean NE where our folks grew up and became best friends. The old Methodist Church where Mom and Dad were confirmed and then married; where all three of us kids were baptized, and where my Grandma Esther played the piano, still stands – barely. The boards are more gray than white now, and windows are boarded up. Time races on and things change, but it was a pleasant feeling to remember the people that had gathered there on Sunday mornings when I was a child, some of them family, but all of them friends. Most of those family and friends have gone on to sing bass, tenor, and soprano in heavenly choirs.

That same day we toured McLean, we visited with my cousin, Barb, and her daughter in the nearby town of Randolph. Barb grew up in McLean as well and she filled us in on some of the folks we had known in the past. We learned that Sue Voss, a past Sunday school teacher in that McLean church resided now at the nursing home in Randolph. My thoughts were taken back to flannel board characters, “Jesus Loves Me”, and making church buildings with the interlaced fingers of our hands. How many of you remember….this is the church, this is the steeple, open up the doors and see all the people?

A pleasant young man offered to show us Sue’s room. She was sitting in the chair when Connie and I stepped through the open door and into her private room. Neither of us had seen Sue since Grandma Esther’s funeral; exactly 20 years prior. Sue was, of course, caught off guard by our impromptu visit. I introduced us as DeLila and Connie – Ruth and Paul’s daughters.

Immediately, Sue exploded in excitement.

“David Paul, DeLila Ruth, Connie Jean!” she clapped with enthusiasm. Connie and I both agreed later that we had never seen someone express such excitement over anything. It was obvious we had made Sue’s day, but in turn, she made ours. It was truly another delightful experience. Before we left, she stood and gave each of us a prolonged and deep hug.

Hebrews 13:7 reminds us to not forget the example of our spiritual leaders who have spoken God’s messages to us. Sue had been a dedicated Sunday school teacher, teaching in that church for as long as I attended. And Hebrews 10:25 tells us not to neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another. I am so glad we took the time to visit Sue -I could say it was worth every minute, but really…it was priceless.

Connie and I were so blessed by each of our meetings with family and friends on this adventure. It will be a memory well preserved and if you can’t tell….I’ve become an overnight fan of road trips.

Until next time…Keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.