Solid Ground ~ Part 1 of 3

Photo by Marion Tripp

When I was a child, my family traveled crowded Jersey highways to the shore. I tip-toed across the beach, hoping to avoid shells and what-nots from hurting my tender soles. Then I reached the ocean's damp edge and took baby steps toward the Atlantic.

Others about me charged in, splashing cold salt water on this chicken. I jumped back and then inched forward until I stood waist-high in water ~ at which point a wave would undoubtedly knocked me down. Initiation completed.

The relationship between me and the ocean was a daunting one. I entered this wet world with fear, recalling a couple times when I'd gone too deep for my non-swimming body, only to fight for air until waves carried me ashore.

Most of my beach time I parked securely not too distant from the tide line, shoveling damp sand to form moats about molded walls and towers. My imagination soared, like the seagulls overhead!

As the hours passed and sun burned, the tide made its way to my real estate and within minutes washed it away. I knew it would. I hated to see it go. So it was, building on sand. And, yes, it always reminded me of the Sunday school song about the foolish man building upon sand and the wise man establishing his house on the rock.

Until I reached the know-it-all teen years, I thought this song was about nothing more than a stupid man vs. a much smarter one. Of course the third verse held a big clue ~ So build your life on the Lord Jesus Christ. But I didn't realize this went beyond "Lord Jesus, come into my life."

Then I went to Christian college and heard the word doctrine for the first time. I'd been brought up in a Christian home and church, where parents and teachers taught us Bible stories and verses, missions, and importance of prayer. Yet somehow this single-minded girl didn't grasp the whole "doctrine thing."

Much later in life I realized how all the pieces fit together and that my Christian life isn't just about salvation. These doctrines were the foundation stones God laid so my life gripped the Solid Rock, Jesus, when waves of trouble struck me.

I now see the importance of firm grounding in every aspect of life. Without these, we cannot stand as a people or a nation...

It's A Small World

Diana's Ice Cream Truck in New Jersey

When I saw this photo, I just had to borrow it. So many of these sweltering summer days I've listened to the ice cream truck drive by. That daily traveler brings back memories of childhood.

Yet the ice cream lady in the photo is someone special. When we last saw each other, she was a young girl and I a teen. I found her on Facebook. You see, her grandpa was one of my heroes.

My sister and I called him "Uncle Wilmos." He and his wife became my parents' dear friends. And Uncle Wilmos taught me violin and life. He was my friend, hero, confidant. He always treated me like I was special. Years later he'd come play and speak at my commissioning-into-missionary service gathering, and only a heart-attack kept him from our wedding.

I snapped this photo when I was a teen.

When I reached dating age, Uncle Wilmos sat me down and gave advice drawn from his life experiences. I valued his words. They were from a man who cared about me. Other than my own Dad in those early years, this one man influenced my life profoundly.

Now, it's a small world because my dearest friend in the whole world since age 11 was Joan. I use to untie my sneakers when I saw her coming at church because I knew she'd stop, bend down, tie them, and give me a hug. This woman and I bonded at the heart~growing in joys and pains. We shared a for-life friendship. I trusted her when we went through our roughest trials because she'd known similar pain, which speaks volumes to one who's hurting.

At my bridal shower.

Uncle Wilmos and Joan both live in Heaven now. I miss them more than I can say, yet I'm comforted because I know we'll be together when my turn comes to pass from this world into eternity. So many precious folk wait for us on the other side.

Back to Diana~When I found her on Facebook, I realized we shared a mutual friend in Joan's daughter. Diana was her town's Ice Cream Lady. Joan's daughter didn't know Diana was kin to Uncle Wilmos, but she remembered the violin-playing Hungarian who traveled to churches where her mom, Joan, brought her to listen to the music she loved. It is a small world after all.

There's nothing deep or profound here, but I'm feeling nostalgic, and~even though this has been a tough summer~these memories of dear ones helps put a smile on this girl's face. I think I'll smile even more next time the ice cream truck comes by...and probably think of Uncle Wilmos, Joan, and Diana too.