Author: delilalumbardy@gmail.com

“Love requires vulnerability. There is no safe investment when a person risks loving. Loving anything will lead to your heart being wrung and possibly broken.” C. S. Lewis

When I read this quote by C.S. Lewis, I thought, “now, that’s a dim look at love.” But as I thought about it, it’s also very true. Love does require vulnerability. Second, it’s not a safe investment. Is there anything more risky than giving your heart to someone? According to the theologian, when we do give our heart to someone it will be wrung and possibly broken. I envision a dish rag being squeezed and twisted until not one more drop of water escapes. When our loved one hurts, we hurt. When they are betrayed, we ache for them. When they die, we grieve over their absence. And if we are the one betrayed by a loved one, it’s as if a large portion of our own heart has died. Bones and wounds can heal, but hearts are sometimes left in such fragmented pieces there seems little hope of putting it back together.

Had I read this quote before risking to love, would I have changed my mind? I don’t think so. It’s a gamble, but often the long awaited payout is worth the pain. Even though, my heart has been wrung and broken different times, I have to admit those same relationships have provided much pleasure and fulfillment at other times.

I believe that the love a mother has for her children is one of the the deepest kinds of love. Because of this, it is an investment that creates the greatest kind of risk …it can leave you flat broke or yielding great dividends. It can do both over the period of a lifetime. It is now estimated that one out of four adult children are estranged from their parents, for one reason or another. Most of the time the estrangement is initiated by the child.

There was a time when both of my sons, (for different reasons) and I had strained relationships. My oldest had undiagnosed bipolar 1 that caused chaos in our relationship and a period of months without communication. The youngest had addiction and homelessness issues that created obstacles in our relationship. Communication was basically limited to when he was desperately in need of something Mom could provide. These were heart wrenching times for me because my love never died; yet the relationships were broken.

I threw a lasso around Isaiah 49:18, pulled the rope tight and didn’t let go. It was a promise that I claimed and thought about every day. Look and see, for all your children will come back to you. As surely as I live,” says the Lord, “they will be like jewels or bridal ornaments for you to display.”

I want to give hope to those that might be in a hard place with their adult children. Hope is something no one can take away from us and indeed, we should never lose hope, no matter how hopeless it seems.

My oldest was diagnosed with his mental illness and treated when he was in his mid to late thirties. My youngest has had sobriety for three years and has a family. I can honestly say, without any hesitation, that I could not ask for better sons. The compassion and love that was once hidden beneath the afflictions has now been freed. Our conversations always end with “I love you” and we don’t take it lightly. I am very proud of the mountains they both have climbed and conquered. They are like jewels that I am proud to display. The difficult times we went through has only sweetened the present. I hope this for anyone that is experiencing detached relationships with their loved ones. Pray and don’t give up.

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

Blog written with permission of both sons.

Some times it takes decades to realize what a blessing you were given many, many years ago.

No matter what news you listen to – whether it’s Fox News or ABC News, or CBS – every network is talking about the baby formula crisis. We can see the worry in the faces of the mothers being interviewed. Every night we are hearing stories of mothers desperately searching online or rushing from one store to the next to the next to the next in hopes of finding at least one can of formula. Most times they are not finding anything other than empty shelves. And now, some of the infants that have required special formulas are being diagnosed with dehydration and hospitalized. Some of these hospitals have been able to concoct their own baby formulas from adult feeding formulas. But this isn’t fool proof either. Some of these babies are reacting to the new formula and becoming even more ill. This has been going on for months now. Although the biggest formula producer (Abbott) in the US is now starting to make more formula after slowing production following a volunteer recall in February, it won’t be an instant fix. It will take weeks before the shelves are restocked with the much needed formula.

My heart goes out to these mothers. Had this crisis began before their child was born, they may have opted to breast feed, if at all possible. But what about the mothers already months into formula feeding when the crisis hit? I think back and wonder what I would have done 40 years ago had this happened to me. I know I would have been distraught, just like the mothers are today. I think I would have broken the city ordinances and staked a goat in the backyard.

I almost feel guilty for how easy things were for me forty years ago when it came to obtaining formula. I was working at the Cozad Community Hospital in Cozad, NE at the time that both of my boys were born. It was a benefit for the nurses to get their formula free, already mixed in small bottles and ready to deliver to our babies at home. So easy. All I had to do was let the purchasing clerk know how much I needed each month and then back my vehicle up to the back door and load it up.

The current situation has forced me to see that I took this benefit for granted. At the time, I appreciated what was given to me, but never gave it a thought of what I would do had it not been easily accessible. It took this crisis, forty years later, for me to truly realize how fortunate I had it.

It has made me more conscious of being grateful for any good gift that I receive. If you catch me talking to myself you might hear me saying, “Thank-you for my comfortable home, thank-you for my beautiful yard, thank-you for my health that allows me to do the things I like to do, thank-you for my family and thank-you for my friends.” This formula crisis was just a reminder that the blessings of today might be absent tomorrow. I should be thankful everyday for what I am given.

Even though I was a little late, I’ve thanked God this week for the formula I was able to come by so easily those forty years ago. I will strive to take less for granted and acknowledge that every desirable and beneficial gift comes out of heaven. James 1:17 (MSG) and to thank my Creator for them…at the time I receive them. (As you can see, I’m not really talking to myself.)

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

May 23, 2022

I would sit pretzel style (politically correct) on the ground while watching Dad work on a broken piece of haying equipment. He would often use me as a gopher to run for this tool or that tool. He could have done it faster himself because he was the only one that would have known right where it was in the disorderly shop, but he also knew how to make a daughter feel important. I would watch closely as he “fixed things up”- often times taking hours. Sometimes he would decide to place a mark on the equipment for future reference. He would dig deep into his jean’s pocket and pull out his pocket knife, making a scratch in the red paint. That thin silver slash would mark the exact spot he needed as a reference for another possible repair job down the road. (Dad could extend the life of equipment quite efficiently – well, maybe not so efficiently if you figure in the hours of repair time.) These small marks to aid in future attempts to extend life to treasured possessions are called witness markers. Dad did this for his own benefit; to save time the next time he had to work on the piece. But, there was a time when people left witness markers for the benefit of others. For instance, a meticulous clock repairman would place a mark inside the clock to aid future repairmen to know how to set the mechanisms in the clock – a very time saving technique (no pun intended) for their fellow man. It gives me a “warm fuzzy” to think of a time when it was common courtesy to help out the next person – maybe a time when we thought more of others and less of ourselves.

I have to wonder if placing “witness markers” for the benefit of others is an obsolete practice in this day and age? I would like to think that I might leave something behind that might benefit others.

I am no stranger to marking things. Multiple highlighters live on the table next to my recliner. My Bible looks like a pressed rainbow – but this again is for my own benefit. In some small way, I hope my blog with family stories and spiritual tidbits will mean something to my descendants.

God encourages markers throughout the Bible of one sort or another. Remember when He had the enslaved Israelites paint the top and sides of their doorframes with blood so the death angel would pass by their households and spare their firstborn sons? (Exodus 12:23) And what about the time when they were finally passing into the Promised Land. They had just crossed through on the rocks of the Jordan River bed after God miraculously provided a dry path. He gave this instruction to Joshua. “Now, tell the men – one from each tribe – to take twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan and pile them up at the place where you camp tonight.” (Joshua 4:5) In the same chapter it tells us why He asked them to do this. When their children would ask what the stones meant, it would remind them of what the Lord had done for them and the story would be passed on from generation to generation.

As Christians we all have our remembrances of what God has done for us. Let’s pass the stories on. When they involve God, they are way to good to keep to ourselves. Maybe I’ll throw in a highlighter with mine.

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

Decisions don’t always come easy to us. I’ve had to make decisions that have been extremely easy and some that have been extremely difficult. One of the easiest significant decisions I’ve had to make is where I would go to nursing school when I finished high school. This was a no brainer for me. I would go to the only nursing school in Nebraska that didn’t require me to take Speech in high school or college. Because, you see, I was terrified of the thought of standing in front of a roomful of classmates and an instructor to give a five minute speech. I would have cleaned out 100 chicken coops – maybe even a 1000 – before I would have given a speech. I was so thankful Bryan School of Nursing wanted their students to have Physics instead of Speech!

Then there’s the decisions that weren’t so easy. We’ve all had them. Do you stay with this job that you really like or apply for the one that makes more money? Do you go out on a limb to start the venture you’ve always dreamed about but could fail? Do you change churches because you don’t feel you’re getting fed even though all your friends are here? Do you continue befriending the neighbor that’s always asking for childcare help and rarely giving anything in return? And on and on.

It’s sometimes helpful to confide in others when a major decision needs to be made. They may be able to help you process your options. But, it’s wise to be selective when discussing life changing decisions. And even then it can get confusing. Have you ever noticed that everyone has an opinion and they seldom coincide? The experiences they have had will play a big part of what forms their contributions to your situation. Even if we’re not seeking an opinion, but only wishing to be heard, it’s a rare find to have a friend that’s willing to listen only. It’s human nature to offer our viewpoint.

I have found that as I get older I have become more confident in my own opinions as long as I have included God in the process. I have come to appreciate and agree with what Charles Stanley, pastor and author, has to say on this subject. People have influence in our lives and they’ll always have an opinion when we have a decision to make. But they aren’t you and will never know better than you what God’s will is for your life.

I am convinced that if we feel God nudging us one way but we take the advice of someone else to go another way, we will be settling for second best. It is God that is our all knowing Counselor. Psalm 32:8 tells us what the LORD says. “I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you. (NLT) Could it get any plainer than that?

You might be interested to know that I’ve gained freedom from my fears of speaking – found my voice you might say. It began with teaching Lamaze in the 70’s and beyond, and progressed to speaking at Christian Women’s groups, at my father’s funeral, and at book promotions. When God is in your heart, all things are possible. (Matt: 19:26)

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

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When we moved from the farm in the eastern part of Nebraska to the ranch in the Sandhills of Nebraska, the demographics changed. It was the summer before my 6th grade year. I had attended school, up until then, at the Osmond Public School in Osmond, Nebraska. There were 20 kids in my class. Now, I would be attending a country school with twelve in the entire school – grades first through eighth. My class would have the largest number of kids (5) but some classes would only have one. Raven School was 22 miles from the closest town of Ainsworth.

Within a couple of weeks of starting school that fall, Mrs. Pike announced at the end of the day, “Don’t forget, the Bookmobile will be coming tomorrow.”

I leaned over to the classmate beside me. “What’s a Bookmobile?” I asked. She whispered back, “A van that comes every month to bring us books.” Well, that’s good I thought for those that are bookworms. But, I was a picky reader and doubted that a van with a few books would have anything I would be interested in. I had already read the “Little House on the Prairie” series and as far as I knew, that was the extent of what I liked.

A brightly colored minibus tooted it’s friendly horn as it came down the lane to the school. “What’s that about?” I asked. “It’s the Bookmobile!” the other kids yelled. They ran to get in line. Maybe, I had underestimated the Bookmobile. It looked like a promising venture, but too bad they came at recess. I could have done with a little less math class.

As my turn came to step up into the bus, I was amazed at the number of books that lined both sides of the aisle. Shelves and shelves of them. It was like stepping into a mobile library for kids- for indeed, it was just that. I not only found one book that grabbed my interest, but returned to the school with the maximum allotment of three books. I couldn’t wait to get home to tell Mom and Dad about the visiting library on wheels.

With the close of many country schools in the United States, along with budget cuts, functioning bookmobiles are decreasing. The Brown County Bookmobile that visited Raven School traveled it’s last route in the late 80’s. By 2015 bookmobiles across the United States had decreased by more than a third. But along with the few mobile units still in service, there are also private citizens across the globe that have taken up the passion of providing books to rural areas.

One such citizen is Antonio La Cava, a retired schoolteacher, from Italy. He has converted his three-wheeled van into a functioning blue mobile library. He calls it the Bibliomotocarro which in English breaks down to library/books + scooter + cart. He services the remote area of Italy called Basilicata, which sits between the heel and the toe of Italy. He targets the remote villages of less than 1000 people. Antonio encourages writing as well as reading. As he stops in one village, he invites the children to write the first chapter of a story. He collects these chapters and takes them with him to the next village where those children will write chapter two. And on it goes to the next village.

When I read about Antonio, I thought of his obvious gifts – that of teaching and service. He retired from a teaching career, but has not put it on a shelf, so to speak. In fact, he’s done quite the opposite with his multiple shelves of traveling books that he delights to take to others.

We all have spiritual gifts, but it’s not always obvious which ones we have…at least to us. We each possess at least one. (I Peter 4: 10) but it’s often easier for our good friends to see our gifts than it is for us to recognize them. These gifts are given to us by God so that we can build up and encourage other believers (I Cor. 12:31) and further God’s purpose. Through them we channel God’s love to others. Makes sense, as gifts are something we don’t keep – we give them away. We don’t all get the same gifts because there are various tasks to be done, but they all work together in unity to build up the body of believers. James Goll, author and Coordinator of Encounters Alliance, puts it this way: The gifts of the Spirit are like the colors of the rainbow, blending together to achieve the end result.

A few examples of spiritual gifts are: faith, mercy, giving, knowledge, discernment, prophecy, serving, teaching, speaking in tongues, hospitality, wisdom. Romans 12, 1 Cor. 12, and Ephesians 4 all speak about spiritual gifts. If you have difficulty determining yours, ask a close friend that knows you well. Pay attention to what others say you are especially good at. There are also spiritual gift assessments available online. Once we find our gift, we are encouraged to use it to God’s glory.

Knowing that different gifts are given to different people, promotes harmony within the family of God. We should understand that every gift is important…ours, theirs, everyone’s. We could liken it to a stanza of music notes. We know that a middle C has a different job than a high E. They are both equally important within the stanza and we respect what each one contributes, for their differences are what makes the song beautiful.

Keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.