Celebrating Cathy

I've known her as long as I can remember: Cathy Cawthon Farabaugh.  And this week she celebrates her birthday.  Therefore, allow me to celebrate her.

We were Childhood friends.  Crib babies.  When I recall memories of growing up, very few of them don't include Cathy.

Birthday parties.

Dance recitals.

Family vacations to Callaway Gardens (then called "Ida Cason").

Yearly Christmas swaps.

4th of July picnics at the Green's pond.  "Lost in Space" in the backyard.  Laughing so hard over silly things that our sides would split.  Sleep overs ... and "Gary Indiana Indiana."

Basketball practices and games.

Boyfriends and double dating.

Church youth trips.

And since our mother's were in the catering business together, more wedding receptions than you could shake a stick at.  Not to mention our own weddings where we each stood in attendance for the other.

Yet somewhere between marriage, relocating and children, our lives became distant.  Sadly so.  We kept more in touch through our parents than any other way, catching up 10 years at the time at class reunions and the occasional phone call.  Why such distance?  We ask ourselves the same question today.  And the only answer seems to be "life happened."   

But a few years ago, my son and daughter-in-love also relocated, and to my great delight, I found it was only a few miles from where Cathy and Dick lived and had raised their two children.  She and I decided the separation had been long enough.  We were Childhood friends due to our parents choosing.  We would be Adult friends by our own.  Like a good marriage, we would make time for each other.  And that's what we strive to do.  When I apologize for calling her at work (she and Dick own their own business), she always tells me she has time for me.  That's what friends do.  They make themselves Available.  And Cathy does that.

And can I also mention that she's much more Adventurous than I?  I ran my first 5K recently.  She jumped out of a plane!  

The BAD thing about growing up so close to another individual is that you know just about everything about that person.  The GOOD thing about growing up so close to another individual is that you know just about everything about that person.  And whether good or bad, you also share a lot of the same insecurities and struggles.  And we do.  Therefore, Cathy is someone I can depend upon ... she is Trustworthy.  She is also Honest with me in the most encouraging ways, very often speaking life and health into my system.  That's what friends do.

Another thing I find so exciting and unique in this newly restored relationship is the way God seems to be Hatching each of us at the same time -- and right on time.  Creating new creatures of us both.  Doing away with a lot of the old and bringing in much that is new.  Maybe the readers of this post can't understand that, but we know.  

Yet one of the things I celebrate most about Cathy this day is the deep Yearning I witness in her -- not only for the things OF God but for God Himself.  Like a magnet, He is drawing her and she is Yielding herself to His pull.  She is saying YES!  Surrendering to the Spirit's work in her life.

So I bless you today, my literally "longest" friend, in the mighty name of the One who completes this cord of three -- a cord that will not be easily broken for it is His work that has done this for us.  Know that the flame that burns so brightly in you kindles the flame in me.  You are indeed a word that God has spoken into my world.  A beautiful, gracious, endearing word ... and I love and celebrate you today.

Happy birthday, my dear CATHY.  The best is yet to be...

A Cup Overflowing, 241-260

With this being November -- and the month of Thanksgiving, want you join me in adopting a season of "thanks living"?  Begin by counting...

 

#241  that apart from Christ, there is no joy

 

#242  at God's right hand are pleasures forevermore ... and in His presence is fullness of joy

 

#243  turning a knob and having instant water rush out ... and plenty of it, too -- how often I take that for granted

 

#244  reality checks that remind me of my place in life

 

#245  dancing with Lynn

 

#246  fair friends (and food)

 

#247  sitting around the table with my son and his wife enjoying family

 

#248  young talent

 

#249  disappointment ... it allows me to practice grace

 

#250  God's loving providence in my past

 

#251  His constant protecting love in my present

 

#252  pink mornings

 

#253  the rich warmth of a friend's voice on the phone

 

#254  the season's last hydrangea

 

#255  choir rehearsal ... and community

 

#256  cakes and a mother who taught me to bake

 

#257  content with the quiet

 

#258  that every day God says "Do it again!" and the sun rises in the east

 

#259  experiencing God's love afresh through the writings of St. Therese of Lisieux

 

#260  holding hands

Happy Thanksliving...
 

A Cup Overflowing, 221-240

I read recently that gratefulness is the measure of our aliveness.  And that we are dead to whatever we take for granted ... because to be numb is to be dead. 

 

So how's your pulse?

 

I'm taking mine now.

#221  a life-long friend ... literally

#222  three territorial hummingbirds

#223  1.74 miles -- it's a start toward a future 5k

#224  emotions -- messages from God that can tell me much about my spiritual quest

#225  pin-pointing a wound

#226  forgiving ... again

#227  trying to learn how to live with a sacramental view of life

#228  yearning for Christian community for it is my context for finding companionship in Christ

#229  inconveniences that cause me to slow down and exhibit patience

#230  praying with a mantis

#231  October skies

#232  quiet mornings -- so much so that even my breakfast toast is deafening

#233  making family connections with a mother of a dear high school friend who is long departed

#234  GA National Fair -- unless one lives in Perry, one cannot appreciate the excitement of "fair days."  It is counted down for 50 weeks on a local sign, and we all anticipate its arrival.  Only an 11-day season pass will do! 

#235  cowboys being cowboys

#236  spending the day with my parents on my dad's 82nd birthday

#237  my daddy -- a man of integrity and faithfulness -- so thankful for this man!

#238  laughing so hard with my kids that my side feels like it's going to split wide open

#239  time spent with family -- after 22 years, my husband's sister and brother-in-law were finally able to take in a full day of fair activities with us.  We love them so much...

#240  that God sees the disconnect of my heart and still loves me

Awake my senses, O Lord.  I want to live.

Ode to Cynthia

Today, February 21, 2009, I celebrate Cynthia, my college roommate. We were known as the Dynamic Duo – more to Cynthia’s acclaim than mine as she was often the master mind behind most of our schemes.

I think our first escapade was my idea – though not original. We decided to take our neighbor’s mattresses and hide them knowing that when she came in that evening she would be a little tipsy. So one went outside to the 2nd floor breezeway and the other on top of the stalls in the bathroom. Let’s just say she was “confused.” I’m not sure how well we knew Steph at that time, but surprisingly she did become one of our best friends and a suite mate the next year.

On more than one dull evening on campus, the two of us donned women’s hosiery over our heads and faces and headed for the practice rooms with our water pistols. I’m not sure the girls practicing their pianos so late in the evening enjoyed the surprise spritz’ or not, but Cynthia and I sure had a blast.

And then there was the write up in the school paper: “Popcorn Bandits Hit Persons Dorm.” Oh, were we ever good, too. Cynthia and I learned to walk right out of other girl’s rooms without their ever knowing their precious stuffed animal had been kidnapped right under their noses. Somehow I made it out to the 2nd floor breezeway with a 3-foot Pepto pink dog and dropped it over the ledge to my accomplice and then she would sprint to our room. Another evening I remember hearing a faint scream from down the hall: “They’ve got Ermine!!!!” And we did. But all’s well that ends well and we ended up throwing a huge dorm party with the popcorn that was in payment for their beloved creatures. However, I do think I remember that Cynthia was hung in effigy before it was all over.

And what’s the saying about no honor among thieves? I distinctly remember hearing a commotion one night during the wee hours but didn’t think much of it – until the next morning when I got up and carefully opened our door to the hallway and noticed a string tied from the door knob to the transom above the door. Being the wise freshman I was, I carefully untied the string and avoided the water container sitting above the door. The noise that had awakened me that night was the bucket of water coming down on Cynthia’s head when she had gotten up in the middle of the night. Before going back to bed, my wonderful roommate took the time to refill the jug, place it back above the door, and carefully tie the string to the door handle – just for me. Sweet thing, wasn’t she?

Oh, but then I got engaged the beginning of our sophomore year and tradition has it to throw the young bride-to-be in the fountain. Cynthia took her roommate position seriously and did just that. However, as she was leaning over laughing at me, my new fiancé could not resist and gave her just the smallest of shoves and she joined me in the water.

Cynthia was one of my bridesmaids, but after a short period of time, life distanced us and we lost contact. For the last 10 years, I’ve been looking for her and even praying that God would bring us together again. Three weeks ago, He did just that when a note popped up on my Facebook page for a friend request from Cynthia. She had found me! How sweet it has been to reconnect with this precious comrade.

And so, today I honor you, my friend, and I wish you the happiest of birthdays. May you know that you are remembered with such joy and embraced with much love. I pray this would be the year of the Lord’s favor upon you, and that everything you put your hand to, He would establish. You indeed are the apple of His eye and His desire is toward you.

Sweet One from the Past

I enjoyed a most holy moment recently with a sweet, sweet friend from Texas -- and his beautiful new bride Lisa -- who stopped by last week, put their feet under my table and stayed the night. When in Vidalia, Chris and I met together on a weekly basis with two other ministers of music, Don and Phillip, to encourage each other and sing. (They'd sing, I'd play.) What a special time it was. And so was this recent visit. By the way, Lisa is a worship leader herself and has one of the most beautiful voices I've ever heard. I think one of the reasons that's so is because her voice coincides with her heart. Thanks, guys, for including me in your sabbatical!

The Newlyweds: Chris and Lisa Seaton

Letter from a friend

One of my favorite books is Macrina Wiederkehr's A Tree Full of Angels. She begins the chapter entitled "Finding God in the Mailbox" like this: "Letters are the stories of our souls. Unlike a telephone call, a letter can be picked up again and again. It can be deeply pondered. It can be eaten. Always serve letters with a cup of tea and a footstool. Celebrate 'the reading' slowly. It is irreverent to read a letter fast.

"I treasure my letters like early morning sunrises. I see the rays between the lines. I hear the dreams and yearnings, the gratitude and the delight. I hear the questions and the musings, all coming from the heart of this newly published author. A letter bears its own copyright. Standing before my mailbox holding an original very limited edition in my hands is like standing before a feast."

I wish I had written that; it's certainly my sentiments.

I think we've lost the art of letter writing. Of sitting still and penning our thoughts, of neatly folding and placing the freshly inked paper in the envelope just the right way so it comes out perfectly, of personally addressing and stamping it, and then actually going to the post office and dropping it in the slot -- all the while thinking of the one to whom it's destined. No. Now we just sit down quickly in front of the screen, type our 60 words a minute and hit "send." I'm guilty as the next guy.

What has me thinking about Wiederkehr's chapter is the letter I received this morning from a dear friend who was such a large part of my life many years ago. He wrote of a quiet morning, a Sabbath rest, and an evening planned with some close friends. He spoke of an upcoming time of renewal -- personal, spiritual and professional; of underestimating the power of presence and of Christ working through him as he plans for a trip to Liberia. And, yes, he even spoke of missing a southern accent.

No, it wasn't hand written; it, too, showed up in my inbox. But it really didn't matter. It was the heart of a friend and a very holy moment for me. I sanctified it by going to my music room and sitting at my piano for awhile. You see, I was his hands and he was my voice. Together we made music and worshiped our God.

It was just a letter -- an ordinary moment. But I think I'll pour myself a cup of tea and pull up a footstool.