End of an Era

September 21, 2023 / joycelong

Era: A long and distinct period of history with a particular feature or characteristic.

For us, that would mean having house pets since 1981—all but 5 years of our marriage. Coming home this afternoon to an empty house from the vet’s didn’t feel right. To put it bluntly, we ache over losing the last of our menagerie. This last one, originally our son’s, Bevo was named after the University of Texas mascot because Chris was headed to Austin, Texas, for grad school August of 2005. As he decided to leave her behind, we adopted Bevo and her sister Bewley, Valerie’s kitten.

That summer before college beckoned, the two kitten sisters livened up our household. I would pull Bewley off the window screens and watch them jump into the open dishwasher to play hide-n-seek. They were a bit naughty but sweet. Bevo, being the smallest, couldn’t make it up the stairs so our son carried her up every night. From September on, their presence made the child-empty house much more lively.

These sisters reminded us of the two sister strays we adopted in the mid-1990’s so the kids could have their own pets. Itsy and Bitsy, two colorful tortoiseshell kittens, had been thrown out of car on Runyon Road. Chris’ cat Bitsy died at ten years old in 2003 from renal failure while Valerie’s cat passed with cancer in 1995. Inky took her place that same year and disappeared from the house Easter 2005.

So, we’d never had cats live past 10 years until Bevo and Bewley. Both eventually died of renal failure with Bewley passing June 21, 2021. Bevo was first diagnosed in January 2016 and given two weeks to live. We decided to give that meowing cat scratching at our bedroom door her desperate final wish—to sleep in the comfy bed with us. But the IV jumpstarted her system, giving her 7 ½ more years.

As animals do, each of the above gravitated toward her special someone. Our first adopted stray and my running partner/home assistant, our dog Scruffy helped raise my children, even teaching Chris how to crawl by pulling an old tennis shoe in front of him.

But these last two, Bevo and Bewley, were our empty-nest companions, nursing us through the loss of my parents and the loneliness when our kids moved away. Cuddly Bewley favored me, and spunky Bevo was definitely Al’s shadow, who slept staring at him all night long or followed him around like a puppy.

So here we are, totally alone for the first time in a long time. We’re hurting a bit, but we will always love these furry friends God has given us.

Confessions of a Rookie Novelist #2

March 29, 2022 / joycelong

When I was born, my dad quit smoking and deposited his cigarette quarters in Miss Piggy. Eighteen years later, those quarters were well on the way for paying for my undergraduate degree.

A novice at life, I began my career teaching eighth graders language arts at Paul Hadley Middle School in Mooresville. After four years, I left to dabble in journalism. After the kids were born, I taught English night classes at IUPUI. Later I taught eighth graders at Greenwood Middle School, enjoying the fun staff and memorable but sometimes quirky students.

As God often does, He transplanted me from my comfort zone and opened a door to work in nonprofit communications, first at my church Mount Pleasant Christian, and then at Center for Global Impact. For the first time, I received a paycheck for writing instead of teaching. It felt good to practice what I’d taught.

Fast forward to 2019. I wanted my third book to be about the importance of legacy since God had blessed us with three amazing and beyond-cute granddaughters. I thought a Bible study researching the Old Testament’s emphasis on legacy would be interesting. Yet when I sat down that March morning and prayed, my soul heard a still, small voice, “Joyce, what do you know about your legacy?”

My faith journey had begun.

Confessions of a Rookie Novelist

March 24, 2022 / joycelong

Every decade or so, I fish through the file cabinet for the original manuscript of my first novel—The Scott Twins in the Jewelry Mystery. Sound familiar? Especially for you Baby Boomers?

Yes, my first printed story. Literally, because I hadn’t learned cursive writing yet. In 1961, I’d copied Laura Lee Hope’s Bobbsey Twins children’s mystery format by simply changing names. In second grade, I had no idea what plagiarizing meant. Nor did I know anything about intellectual property.

This rookie story had seven chapters starting with Snappy’s Find and ending with chapter seven’s A Reward. Can you guess the plot? My seven-year-old mind thought it sparkled, even on the dingy wide-spaced paper whose penciled words and erasures can still be seen.

At the time, my mother worked at Crane Naval Depot in southern Indiana as a clerk typist. Maybe my work of fiction impressed her or maybe not, but she lent her typing skills and onion skin paper to publish her firstborn’s premiere piece.

Mom let me cut out photos from our Sears Catalog to paste on a thick brown folder. I still remember the power of using those scissors to find two sets of perfect twins. That my mother trusted me with scissors was even more astonishing.

Somehow, I instinctively knew each set of twins needed names that started with the same letter. Alliteration, if you can recall 8^th grade English. Meet Bonnie and Bobbie, Nancy and Ned. Ms. Hope had paved the way with her plot and characters.

Why is any of this relevant? A few months ago, I finished writing the first full draft of a historical novel that features my mother as a child and a young adult. My prayer is that our granddaughters will advance past the The Scott Twins and the Jewelry Mystery and someday enjoy reading about their great-grandmother.

Even still, Mom’s encouragement continues to motivate me to reach beyond what I think is possible.

Six Weeks and Counting. . .

April 30, 2020 / joycelong

Al and I had to make a somewhat risky decision six weeks ago. With the pandemic looming, we had to decide whether or not to attend a wedding of our friends’ youngest daughter Phoebe and her sweet Jacob. We decided to go and were blessed to ride downtown with a couple of great friends we too seldom spend time with.

The next day we went to church as usual. But after listening to the news that afternoon about the Coronavirus, I decided to stay home from Bible study. Since then, our church has depended upon livestream worship and Zoom. Our lives together had changed—suddenly and drastically.

Since then we’ve crossed out over 20 events, appointments, etc. on our March-April calendars, cancelled an Airbnb in Flagstaff, AZ for our May family reunion, and thankfully not gotten COVID-19.

With all the changes have come new insight and skills. From YouTube, I’ve learned to make pompons for knitted hats completed for next year’s NBA All-Star game and face masks that have been donated to St. Francis Hospice and Valle Vista Health as well as given to family and friends. BTW: I’m still making them if you need some. And of course, I’ve learned to Zoom.

How have I spent my time? I’ve zigzagged between writing, reading, cooking, baking, sewing, bike riding, practicing yoga, and most recently gardening. Some things haven’t changed much. I still get up at 6am Monday through Friday and walk with two friends around the neighborhood for 40 minutes with social distancing, of course! Al and I still watch TV or movies almost every night. BTW: If you haven’t seen vintage movies such as Lilies of the Field or Casablanca, now would be a good time.

The absolute BEST part of these past six weeks, however, has been not looking forward to the next event or activity but enjoying the NOW. I’ve listened to and watched more birds than I have in my entire life. My time with God doesn’t stop with the morning study, prayer and devotional. I’ve felt His presence throughout the day—especially when I wash my hands reciting James 4:7-8. I think He gets a big kick out of that.

Relish this time. And count your blessings—one by one.

Make It Personal, Make It Real

March 31, 2020 / joycelong

Like many of you, I’ve been praying for our world, our nation, our state, those in the trenches who are at risk for COVID-19 and my family. But surprisingly, I’ve lost little sleep over this pandemic. My Father in Heaven has given me peace. Why is that?

I know He can eradicate this virus because He is the Almighty Creator. I also know that nothing that brings death originates from God. His intent for us at Creation was life, not death. It still is. So why, in His sovereignty, did He allow this to infiltrate the world?

The answer is LIFE. Not life in the here and now but forever life. Almighty God wants us to live eternally. He doesn’t want us to live only in the finite where idols sneak in to rule our lives. Things and experiences that we covet and enjoy–new cars, vacations, sports, entertainment, food, fitness, etc.

None of the above is inerrantly wrong. But when those activities and items consume our time and energy, we forfeit how God wants us to live.

What’s our next step? God’s prescription is simple yet profound: “If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, pray and seek my face, and turn from their evil ways, then I will hear from heaven, forgive their sin, and heal their land.” 2 Chronicles 7:14

My role: Humble myself; pray and seek His face; turn from my evil ways (thoughts, actions, apathy, critical spirit, self-indulgence, self-pity, self-righteousness, self-absorption. . .)

God’s response: Hear from heaven, forgive my sin, and heal my land.

photo credit: Thank you, my friends, Adam! Broken Wing via photopin (license)

Sunny-side Up

March 20, 2020 / joycelong

Okay, I confess! I haven’t always been an optimist. Since becoming a Christian and growing in the Holy Spirit, the Lord has trained me to think positively. As a child, I often worried. Now that “what if” process exhausts me.

With my back story now public, what follows will make much more sense. I’ve been telling people I’ve never experienced anything in my almost 66 years of life quite like the COVID-19 quarantine. That’s not entirely true.

My family lived eight miles from the west gate of what was first called Crane Naval Ammunition Depot. In 1948 my parents met on base and were civilian employees for a combined total of over 70 years.

Dad progressed through the organization, retiring as director of their massive railroad system that transported live shells and missiles. Then I didn’t understand the danger of those in-the-middle-of-the-night derailments. The phone rang, he’d throw on clothes and leave.

October 1962 during the Cuban Missile Crisis, Dad began stockpiling canned goods and storing them in our one-story home’s 4 ½ foot crawl space. For 12 days, Dad had my mother, my four-year-old sister and me practice getting in and out of this dark, damp underground bunker.

Recently I asked my sister if she remembered those drills. Dad had been an Army sergeant, so yes, they were drills! “All I remember are cans and cans of stacked peaches.” I laughed at the thought of being literally stuck underground with mostly canned peaches. “We would’ve died by ant infestation!” Fortunately, the Soviet Union’s bomb threat ended October 28, 1962. Life continued cautiously but soon normalized.

Lessons learned? Combine hope with common sense. Then expect sunshine.

Spring is coming soon!

When I Teach, I Learn. . .

February 26, 2020 / joycelong

On Valentine’s Day I wrapped up a promised Christmas gift, one that my goddaughter requested. Since I had been a middle school teacher and because they were studying Southeast Asia, Miss Lain invited me to share about my trip to Cambodia in 2013.

I began cramming for my presentation by reviewing facts about Cambodia and designing a worksheet for students to fill in the blanks as I talked. To my surprise, I didn’t need to use PowerPoint but instead loaded the pictures into Google Photos where she could remotely access them.

Arriving at 7:45am, I reported to the office, signed in, and then waited in the classroom for her to return from a meeting with parents. That brought back my memories from the 1990’s of early morning meetings.

Most of the classes were well-behaved, but it was Valentine’s Day and a few teachers were handing out candy with Skittles, as always, the favorite. In contrast, Miss Lain’s surprise for her students was a 65-year-old, white-haired guest speaker.

Here’s what I learned or remembered from teaching 7 forty-seven-minute classes:

Thirteen-year-old student behavior hasn’t changed much since the 1990’s.
Approximately 5 students in each class were not born in the U.S.
Silence works well in regaining their attention.
They loved the photos and accompanying stories.
Today’s seventh graders ask good and sometimes difficult-to-answer questions.
Teachers must find ways to involve students to make a point, such as asking them to stand if they wore glasses and then explaining how they would have been arrested for that in Cambodia during the late 1970’s.
Six hours of constant talking and standing in front of teenagers is still exhausting!

God bless those of you who teach. Its rewards are priceless. In today’s mail, notes from each of Miss Lain’s classes thanked me for the presentation.

Gratitude is still alive and well in the hearts of our children even if it takes a special teacher to extract it! Perhaps that’s one of the more important things teachers teach.

In the Rearview Mirror

January 1, 2020 / joycelong

I blink! Another year passes. And another. In my seventh decade, time has shifted into warp speed. When I realized 2019 closed out a decade, I couldn’t help but reflect on the last ten years.

On January 1, 2010, I would not have known my parents would pass into eternity within the decade’s first three years. Neither would I’ve comprehended that our children would marry the loves of their lives and then grace Al and me with the most beautiful granddaughters in the universe. Too often I said they would never marry. “Al and I will never be grandparents!”

Thankfully I was wrong!

I’m not going to make any New Year’s predictions for 2020 or for any decade to come. I truly don’t want to know the future this side of Heaven. If I’ve learned one thing in 65 years, it’s this: I don’t know what tomorrow brings so I will live in real time, praising a real Savior.

Jesus cradles my time and circumstances in his hands. How do I know that? From the past. He’s been faithful and I know He cares for me now and forever.

If you don’t have Jesus in your life, consider the fact that He died to give you eternal life. While time in this finite world matters, it’s not the end of your story. Nor is it the end of mine.

Look back but also look ahead. Your final destination is at stake.

Tower of Babel

October 22, 2019 / joycelong

Last week when I was praying for our country, the story of the Tower of Babel came to mind. The Holy Spirit-inspired Genesis 11 account described a whole world with one language and common speech. Sounds like real unity, doesn’t it?

These people decided to build a huge tower not out of stones but out of brick and mortar. Their reason? “So that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole world.” Sound familiar?

Nothing wrong with that! Or is there? God saw the pride they had in their achievements and what it would lead to. Because we are sinful people, our achievements basked in arrogance most likely lean toward evil, even if it’s subtle and seemingly justified by circumstances.

Call me crazy but comparing our nation and the folks back in that primitive time is overwhelmingly parallel. When I hear “Make America Great Again,” I understand that if America was ever great, it was because of God. One nation under God should mean we follow His goodness and precepts.

The political schism we are experiencing could be God letting us go our own way, drifting from unity into a self-created chaos due to our arrogant, Godless actions. Corporate lobbying, despicable labor practices overseas, and the elevation of power over public service have corrupted our democracy. Going back further, dislodging American natives, enslaving Africans, and using abortion as birth control add to our communal confession.

Consequently, our self-made Tower of Babel is crumbling.

As the 2020 election heats up, meditate on the story found in Genesis 11:1-9. Then confess our corporate sins—ones that are biased, selfish, and stiff-necked stubborn—”for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Romans 3:23

God isn’t Republican or Democrat! He is the God of All and His love extends past our differences. Most of all, He’s called us to love like He does—unconditionally! All of us need to confess our sins and pray for our country to commit to godly obedience.

To quote the great Jewish leader Joshua, “Observe them (God’s commandments) carefully, for this will show your wisdom and understanding to the nations, who will hear about all these decrees and say, ‘Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people.’”

Deuteronomy 4:6

A “Beautiful” Day in the Neighborhood

September 29, 2019 / joycelong

When we moved to Hunter’s Pointe in June 1987, I was thrilled. At that time Center Grove was just beginning to grow, and it felt like we had shifted from urban to country. But most of all, I loved having an extra room downstairs to contain all the kids’ toys. No more tripping over Lego structures or baby dolls on the way to the kitchen!

Fast-forward 32 years and voila! That’s the same room our kids now fight over when they visit.

Most days in Hunter’s Pointe are typical suburbia—cyclists, folks walking their dogs, runners, mothers pushing strollers, and a constant to-work, come-home traffic flow.

This past Wednesday our neighborhood flooded (literally) confusion. While West Crooked Lane is getting a much-needed facelift, a broken water main created a river. Personnel from both the paving company and Bargersville Water Company literally met in the middle.

Our typical neighborhood now felt like a disaster zone. Orange cones and hardhat construction workers redirected traffic. Water surged into the ripped apart concrete streets. The crushed stone base sank swamp-like.

Upheavals like this precipitate instant life-changes—boil water, stay home, etc.

Such is life this side of Heaven! We’re often cast into chaos. We can be walking on level ground one moment when troubles surge. Then who saves us? It’s simple.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.

When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.

For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” Isaiah 43:2-3