Dear Sisters:

The two of us just sat on our back porch looking at it. After the installation of our new water heater the huge brown box sat empty at the edge of our driveway and was ready and waiting for trash pick-up. It was sitting in our line of sight and made for interesting conversation, because it took me back to a memory. I told my husband, "You know, one of the most exciting summers I ever had was when mom got a new refrigerator and a new freezer. My sister and I converted those boxes into a couple of extraordinary things. We made one a grocery store and the other a house. We cut windows and doors out of the boxes. We painted on the inside and on the outside, made curtains, and even designed shelves for the grocery store. We borrowed empty cereal boxes and cans from mom to stock the store. It was truly spectacular. We played in those boxes nearly the entire summer."

Rick replied, "Well, clearly, that is a rocket sitting in our back yard, not a store or a house. Can't you see the rocket?" He began to explain about the construction that took place in converting the empty box of his childhood into a rocket. He lost me early on in the construction description because my mind kept drifting to this thought as he was talking, "A rocket? Seriously?" How in the world could he not see that it was clearly a house or even a store sitting in our driveway?

And there you have it. Our perspectives on the empty box alone show how very different men are from women. According to the popular nursery rhyme, little boys and little girls are made of totally different things. You know the one:

"Dogs and snails and puppy dog tails that's what little boys are made of.
Sugar and spice and everything nice that's what little girl's are made of."

As adults we simply turn into big versions of that nursery rhyme description.

Then, the nursery rhymes change and authors write grown-up versions of the same concept such as books titled "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus". One doesn't even have to read the book. The cover alone says it all. Other books like "For Men Only - a straightforward guide to the inner lives of women" and "For Women only - what you need to know about the inner lives of men" are created to help us get a grasp on our differences and how to understand each other. Now, here is the moral of the stories and the nursery rhymes: Our differences are all part of God's plan! The "fearfully and wonderfully" made designs of men and women are not mistakes. We are wired differently, for God's glory. That's why we think differently, we like different things and our needs are unique. Our differences should be viewed as celebrations. Our differences should bring about a beautiful balance in our relationships.

Men and women are equally created in God's image; equally responsible to sin; equally redeemed by Christ, and equally gifted by God's Spirit for service; and equally held responsible for using their God given talent. It does not imply that women and men are identical or undifferentiated. Rather, it means that men and women are equal in personhood and importance but different in roles. God designed men and women to complement and benefit one another. In Genesis Chapter 2 we find confirmation regarding our importance and personhood. After God created Adam he said in verse 18, "it is not good that man should be alone." There was no one like Adam, in fact, verse 20 says, "But for Adam there was not found a helper fit for him." No one equal in image or kind. Then in the following verses we find that woman was custom made for Adam, from Adam's rib. Don't you know when Adam woke up and God presented Eve to him, he was blown away at the knock out standing in front of him? Eve was one of a kind and custom made for Adam. Man and woman were made for each other. Woman fits the partnership and completes Adam.

I am so thankful to know that I was custom made for my husband and that God handpicked him for me. It is a celebration to know that we complete each other. I treasure so many things about my husband. The ones I treasure most are the traits that he has that are far removed from me and my personality. I love that he knows about hunting, fishing, golfing and boating. I love that he is an analytical thinker, that he is a visionary and a spontaneous spirit. He is very direct and good at asking the hard questions. He is daring, is a problem solver and loves a challenge. I love the musician in him and I love how his singing voice melts my heart. He makes me laugh and adores me like no other person ever has. He is creative, loves God and loves me just the way I am. He doesn't mind that I'm a neat freak, or that I steal the covers at night, that I cry at sappy movies or commercials or that I'm a notorious checklist maker and a bit of a perfectionist. My "opposite" traits attract him and the same goes for me. I love that he sees a rocket, when I see a house. Celebrating differences like these makes this life journey a blast!

So, here's a big Father's Day shout out to dads everywhere, and especially to my man. Here's to the men in our lives who complete us and help make us extraordinary women!

Cheryle Jaggers

Dear Sisters:

Our moms - they are the memory keepers. If you need to know where to find a tangible item to help you celebrate a memory of your past, they have just what you are looking for. They have the old photo albums on bookshelves, in special cabinets or closets. These photo albums are packed with captured moments - moments that leave proof of us in a time in history. In the pictures, there are reminders that we were once little, we were once young. We celebrated Christmas in childlike style, we had birthday parties, we had a gang of friends and we indeed looked dorky in our teenage fashions and hairstyles of the day. Moms have the hope chests and storage boxes marked "your name" on them. Inside, these boxes are filled with memorabilia from your past. Your first pair of shoes, they got it. Your favorite childhood toy - they know just where it is stored. Your prom dress - mom's got you covered. Your first baby picture or your birth certificate - no worries mom's got your back. You see, she has your baby book! That's the place where "ancient" memories are recorded. Mom has journaled those early years of your life. They are so valuable to us because we don't remember those days, but Mom does and she delighted in being your memory keeper.

Kendall and I were looking through our baby books the other night. I had to find a baby picture for something our pastor is cooking up with our staff. So, off to my baby book I went. I not only found a baby picture, but I found written on the pages memories of me written by my mom. As my memory scribe, she captured things about me that I could not have known. I can only imagine her with pen in hand pouring over those pages in the quiet of the night after everyone had gone to sleep, recalling and recording special moments of the day. Or, I can imagine my mother running to the baby book to write about something that had just happened, something that had to be captured immediately. So in the moment of excitement, mom rushed to splash a memory on the page for me. She recorded these things not only so she could remember that moment, but also for those words to be there for me to enjoy one day.

Mom wrote some fun things about me in my pink, silk covered baby book with little white sheep on the front titled "Babyhood Years." By the way, my big brothers always called me Cherri because I was born on George Washington's birthday and he chopped down the cherry tree. And, truth is, they hated the name Cheryle. Here are some of Mom's entries in my baby book…

"Cherri loved music and at 4 months she had her own records and record player. She would sway back and forth. She talked extra early."

"Cherri got a horse on springs for her first Christmas and needed no prompting at all. She rode him all day. She called him Charley and he remained her favorite toy for a long time. Her camel is a big ugly brute but to her he is beautiful. She picked him out long before Christmas. She dearly loves him and he always gets a sugar and a hug easier than any other toy."

"On Cherri's first birthday, she is a very happy, sassy little girl. Still not much hair. She has 7 teeth and can walk when and if she chooses. She says many words. She loves books and records and stuffed toys. She loves her Daddy and her brothers. Needless to say they are rather taken with her too. Daddy calls her punkin and she can get a lot of mileage out of a little old sugar when applied to her Daddy at just the right time."

"By the time she was 18 months her vocabulary was amazing. At 2, she could carry on a good conversation. She was very bossy with her brothers and tried to correct them in exactly my tone of voice and words. She has a very vivid imagination."

After Kendall and I looked through the pages of my baby book, she decided to take a journey through her baby book. She laughed at some of the entries I made. She got tickled at things like…

"I had trouble getting Kendall to eat baby cereal for the first time. After I decided to add a little sugar to her cereal, she gobbled it down."

"The first time Kendall ate strained vegetables and strained meat, she gagged and vomited. We even have it recorded on film!"

"The first time Kendall said Mommy was on Mother's Day."

"At 18 months, Kendall didn't care much for Santa."

"My reaction to Kendall's first day of school: I cried the night before. After dropping her off, I cried all the way home." Kendall's reaction to her first day of school: She was very brave. Later in the day she fell off the monkey bars and hurt her hip."

Only our moms would track and record intimate and special moments like these. Only our moms would get excited about taping a lock of hair in our baby book after our first haircut, or making sure our tiny footprint is stamped inside for prosperity sake. Moms record the "firsts" of our lives. Moms record when we said our first word, memories of our first birthday party, when we took our first step or when we smiled for the first time. Our moms continue to keep track of our lives, helping us hold on to the joys, the achievements, the celebrations and the moments that worked together to mold us into the women we are today. Here's to our moms, the memory keepers. To them, our story is one worth preserving. On pages, in albums, in hope chests and boxes, time stands still and we are a unique and treasured part of history, at least in their hearts.

Cheryle Jaggers
Women's Ministry Coordinator

Dear Sisters:

The church structure sits high on a grassy knoll called "Handsome Mound". The simplicity and beauty of this church along with the unique and tranquil country setting makes it one of those churches that should appear on a postcard. She was originally built in 1822 by a band of devout families, living in what eventually was to become Gibson County, Indiana. The present building erected in 1894 sports an impressive bell tower which reaches high into the sky. To this day the congregation of Providence Church will pull the bell rope to announce that services are about to begin. I have had the honor on more than one occasion to be selected to be the "bell ringer" for the morning service. This church, which my Grandma and Grandpap joined in 1951, encircled by rich, magnificent maples trees, still stands tall and proud as somewhat of an overseer to this small farming community.

Inside the old floor creaks and complains when you walk across it. This I know because I have walked many tiny steps and later big steps across those old wooden floors as this was a church of my childhood and a church which continues to be a treasure to me in my adult life. The sanctuary is quiet and peaceful and if you look out the tall windows you can look a long and far across the countryside. In the basement, Grandma would gather with her friends for "quilting parties" and some of the best home cooking I've ever had was prepared in the sprawling basement kitchen. I can still see those precious church women in their aprons working and laughing together as they prepared meals for fellowship or sharing and crying together as they prepared meals for a family who had just buried a loved one in the ancient cemetery, just out the screen door and up a small set of outdoor steps.

It's the old, seven acre cemetery outside the church that captures my heart. While the adults worked and visited in the kitchen, we children would sling open that old screen door, allowing it to slam behind us, and we would scurry up the steps which would serve as an exit to the mystifying graveyard outside. We would play among the many folks lying at eternal rest. We would run around the remains of people who have slept there since shortly after the original church was built. At Easter, the church would sponsor an Easter egg hunt and we would work our way around Revolutionary soldiers who lie there. We would giggle and celebrate an "egg find" at or near the graves of veterans of the War of 1812 and the Mexican War, as well as those who served in the Civil War and World Wars I & II. Many old monuments in this cemetery served as perfect places to conceal ourselves during a competitive game of "Hide and Seek." Little did we know that some of the tombstones that were weaved into our egg hunts and childhood games contained birthdates listed as early as 1705.

There are so many stories and legends about this ancient cemetery, which made this mysterious place even more intriguing. For example, the grave of William Steel, the man, they say, from whose tombstone the blood can never be washed because his death was such a sad and tragic thing. He was crushed to death by the tombstone he was unloading to erect at his wife's grave, and he was laid to rest beside her.

It was generally believed around the neighborhood that the old cemetery was haunted and a person would not go there at night, but there was this certain woman who cackled her contempt, declaring she had never heard of anything so silly or juvenile. SHE would go into the cemetery and SHE would show those 'fraidy cats'. So, one dark night, she did precisely that, walking boldly among the gloomy headstones. And at that moment, a covey of quail, startled by her approach, took wing in whirring flight. They say the old gal knocked down headstones left and right, so compelling was her desire to be gone from there.

Despite the stories and tales, I would later come to realize, on a very personal level, what this legendary place stood for when I turned nine. I would come to know the true meaning of this cemetery and understand the finality of its purpose. I would stand beside the freshly dug grave of my dear ten-year-old friend who would be buried in his Cub Scout uniform. This precious friend who ran with me and laughed with me would find eternal rest, in my opinion, way too early in his little life. I watched as his family said good-bye to him and my heart broke for the first time in a way that is beyond explanation.

The grave. It is such a devastating thing. The grave seems to be that final tool of proclamation that screams, "This life is truly over." And while that is true in the physical sense, for the believer the grave simply means that real life has just begun. A Christian knows that this life is a temporary home, just a stopping place headed somewhere else. We are on our way to a place that is spectacular, eternal and provides unending fellowship with God. A Christian understands the power of the Easter message and what Christ's victory over the grave really means. This thing called death, with the grave serving as death's earthly signal, has been conquered by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ so that we may have eternal life. 1 Corinthians 15:54 and 55 says, "Death is swallowed up in victory. O, Death, where is your sting? O, Hades, where is your victory?" In Revelation 1:18, God says, "I am He who lives and was dead and behold I am alive forevermore. Amen. And I have the keys of Hades and of Death."

So as a child of the King, I can dance and play over and around those tombstones - with no disrespect, but with complete celebration in the victory that has already been won on my behalf. I have Biblical permission to "praise him with the dance." - Psalm 150:4. For He has turned my mourning into dancing - Psalm 30:11. However you celebrate Easter, never forget the true message of the holiday. For me, a part of me will be singing and rejoicing in spirit on the "handsome mound" as Providence church continues to stand tall and proud, remaining a symbol of light and stability in an uncertain world. Ring the bell, sisters, dance and sing a new song for there is joy today! Happy Easter.

Special thanks to my Aunt Phyllis Parker who created "The Precious Memories of Providence Primitive Baptist Church" book and to Joe Aaron a columnist with the Evansville Courier who years ago penned an eloquent essay about Providence Church.

The empty Tomb - Matthew 28:1 - 10
After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to view the tomb. Suddenly there was a violent earthquake, because an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and approached the tomb. He rolled back the stone and was sitting on it His appearance was like lightning, and his robe was as white as snow. The guards were so shaken from fear of him that they became like dead men. But the angel told the women, "Don't be afraid, because I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here! For He has been resurrected, just as He said. Come and see the place where He lay. Then go quickly and tell His disciples. 'He has been raised from the dead. In fact, he is going ahead of you to Galilee; you will see Him there.' Listen, I have told you." So, departing quickly from the tomb with fear and great joy, they ran to tell His disciples the news. Just then Jesus met them and said, "Good morning!" They came up, took hold of His feet, and worshiped Him. Then Jesus told them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to leave for Galilee, and they will see Me there."

Dear Sisters:

When I was a little girl, I was in awe of my Grandmother and her many abilities. Grandma could do anything. She was a wonderful cook and she was packed with so many other wonderful domestic skills. She could quilt, sew, embroidery, knit and crochet. I could only watch in amazement because I never mastered any of these incredible gifts, even though my Grandmother tried very patiently to teach me. My sister, on the other hand, was able to learn these crafts from Grandma. My sister is one of those women who can do anything, too. If I didn't love her so much I would have to hate her.

When I was in middle school, I had to take a required Home Economics class. If any of you have ever taken a Home Economics class, you know that the class is all about learning domestic skills, like cooking and sewing. Let me just tell you, I almost flunked my Home Economics class. All I had to do by the end of the semester was to make a skirt and a stupid apron. I tried so very hard but I just couldn't do it. The end result was an unrecognizable apron and a hideous skirt. Both pieces were terrible! I honestly put a huge amount of effort into those silly garments. I didn't do so well in the cooking side of the class either. Only I could mess up chocolate chip cookies by burning my batch!! After all these years, I must confess that things have not changed for me in the cooking department. I have a sign hanging over my kitchen stove that says, "I kiss better than I cook." And I have a sign in my kitchen pantry that reads, "I'm not Betty Crocker, so deal with it." I only passed t he class because the teacher really liked me and totally understood that I just could not do these domestic tasks. My teacher put her arm around me at the end of the semester and said, "It's ok, Cheryle. Some people are just not cut out for this kind of stuff. You have lots of other talents and abilities." And thank goodness she was right! We are all packaged differently, and I will shout out a big Hallelujah to that one!

After Grandma passed away, my sister found a half-finished embroidery piece that Grandma had been working on. It was the start of a table runner with a beautiful pattern of purple and yellow pansies. Sis took that piece, finished it and turned it into a masterpiece. She surprised me and gave it to me as a gift not long after Grandma's passing. It is a magnificent treasure to me because it is a blend of my Grandmother's love and skill and my sister's heart and craft. She included this poem she wrote with the completed piece.

The Special Gift

This is a very special gift; none like you've had before You could search far and wide and not find it in a store.

You see, it is the last of many treasures that you and I have shared,I wanted you to have it because I know how much you cared.

I found it plain and simple and put love in every stitch.
I hope you'll use it in your home and make it look real rich.
You see, Grandma started to make it "the prettiest thing she got". But time did not allow her to finish what she bought.
The other little part is just a bargain from your sis, It comes to you with lots of love, a tear, a hug and kiss.
So cherish it if nothing else, remember where it's from.
Grandma's big ole farm house where we as children made our fun.

When I look at the back of the embroidered piece, I can only see a glimpse of what the artists were trying to accomplish. The back is kind of ragged and has strings and stitches going every which way. The crazy, discombobulated pattern on the back made me think about the things in life that happen that I just don't understand. It also made me think about my life and how sometimes I feel like this journey I'm on just doesn't make sense. Then I was reminded of a statement I heard recently about author Elisabeth Elliot. In her book The Shadow of the Almighty, Elizabeth compares a tapestry to the sovereignty of God. She says that as we look at the back of a tapestry or in my case the back of Grandma's embroidery piece, it's as if God is allowing us to see just an outline on this life. But in eternity, God will turn the tapestry around and we will see the completed picture. So when you face times of doubt and uncertainty or those "why" questions flood your mind, be at peace with k nowing that we might not have the answers this side of heaven. But we can trust in the character, attributes and heart of a mighty, sovereign God whose goal is to work all things out for good. Take heart in the words from 1 Corinthians 13:12, "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known." According to my ESV study bible commentary, ancient mirrors were made from polished metal, such as bronze, and thus one's reflection was even more "dim" than in modern mirrors. Face to face suggests a reference to Christ's second coming and to seeing God personally. When we are face to face with Christ, he will turn the tapestry around, and then, sisters, we will truly see. Until then, enjoy the view you have!

Dear Sisters:

Have you every really thought about snow? The whole concept of the rain cycle, God's plan to keep the earth replenished with water, is quite an incredible plan. And so the rains fall, joining the earth and then evaporates back into the air to begin this miraculous cycle all over again. Then God decides to add a little spice and flair to our lives and chooses to turn the rain to snow. Only our God with his creative mind could create this concept of snow, choosing to add variety to an already spectacular miracle. His creative side shines through when we look at snow and suddenly we see a side of His character revealed. Now we see a personality from his snow show that displays a fun side of God who is pure, cool, and fun. Then, to top off the spectacle he decides to make every snowflake different. It's not enough to go the easy route with all the snowflake patterns taking on the exact same shapes. Every snowflake has a different pattern - isn't that just like God's beautiful and artistic character. He makes different textures of snow. Fluffy and dry, great for sledding. Wet and sticky snow makes for terrific snow men.

With the sky darkening and serving as a backdrop, the snow is falling like showers of white light in the late afternoon. My daughter, Kendall and I had to play in the late afternoon snow shower. I told her earlier that I loved to hear the sound of tires on a gravel road. She said she loved to hear the sound of snow crunching under her shoes. When we walked out into the late afternoon pouring snow, she said, "Mom, listen." And we both stood very still. Then, she took several crunchy steps so we could celebrate one of the sounds she loves, snow crunches.

I am sitting at His feet this evening. I stopped my busy Martha mode and told myself that it doesn't snow that often and I need to embrace the beauty. As the snow falls, I sit in my living room chair and bask in his presence. I glory at his personality and I praise him for the incredible awesome God he is. He is so many things to me and in this moment he is beauty and peace. He sprinkles my life with joy like no other. I hear Him say, my child," I'm tossing around white confetti for you to celebrate this the day that I have made for you." He dazzles me daily and today it is ironically a warm blanket of snow that stops me in my tracks and warms my heart. It's a display of love that causes me to catch my breath and say, "Wow!"

The moon will soon rest at the heart of this glorious display. I can tuck myself in and know that the glory of the Lord shines round about me on this evening of peace. I keep watching until I can't see the flakes fall anymore. And in the still of the night I know there are heavenly storehouses ladened with snow because God mentions this specifically to Job. In Job 38:22 God asks Job, "Have you every gone into the storehouse of the snow? And in a tiny piece of the universe, in my own backyard, a storehouse door was opened slightly. In our corner of the world, we were showered with the presence and personality of God and we took time to soak up the joy of who he is. He speaks softly tonight. Through the snow he comes quietly and tenderly. In a world that is fast and loud I am grateful for a God who comes gently in the night. In unexpected moments He shows up and shows off. I love that about my Daddy.