Tag Archives: Lisa Jo Baker

Where there’s smoke…there’s fire!

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It’s FiveMinuteFriday! Today we write for the love of the written word. No extreme editing, just write. The word prompt is “Close”.

Go!

A couple of years ago, while living in Europe, (Tallinn, Estonia to be exact), we had settled in our apartment right downtown, and were doing our best to become acclimated to the culture and lifestyle of these beautiful people.

Our apartment had eight floors, was sandwiched between other businesses, one of them was of the “don’t-tell-your-mother-kind”, but basically it was a decent part of town. We had a great view of the street below our cubby hole, which was just short of 600 square feet. It actually felt much larger because of the open floor plan, and it was perfect for two. Even though it was a simple “flat”, it was equipped with the typical Northern European necessity…a Finnish sauna!

Early one morning, I was awakened by voices, voices that sounded like they were right outside our window. That was impossible, since we were on the third floor, so I ventured to the door and looked outside. There was no one around. Yet I still heard people talking, and commotion, so I went to the window, pulled up the blinds and was shocked to see two firemen coming up a ladder! The windows only “tipped” in so I couldn’t get my head out to see as well as I would like. What I could see was a huge crowd gathered on the sidewalk across the street and smoke. Lots of smoke!

Panic was soon to set in so I rushed and awakened The Sweetheart.

“We are on fire!! We have to get out now!”

This wonderful man and I will celebrate our 35th wedding anniversary July 20. We know each other pretty well and I knew he would not be as anxious and terrified as I was. He got up and assessed the situation and said that no one had come to evacuate the building so it must be contained.

What??!!! Who in their right mind would stay in a building that was on fire just because no one had told us to get out??!

I was already dressed and ready to head out the door. Eternity passes while he gets prepared; I refused to let him SHOWER, and finally we venture out of our apartment. Another tenant was locking their door and starting down the hallway too. We asked if they knew anything about what was going on and their reply? “There is a fire.”

Thanks, Buddy.

Once downstairs, out the door and across the street, we can get a better look.  There are several fire trucks and I see flames and smoke pouring out of an eight story window right above our apartment! But the Estonians? Calm, cool, collected, and absolutely no panic.

Where there's smoke...there's fire!

Our “neighbors”, in the apartment beside us, were the most puzzling. They did not evacuate! As a matter of fact, she was hanging out the window giving instruction to the fire department! She was not going to leave; she was just going to watch everything from her own “window seat”.

This was unbelievable to me. Your building is on fire and you are so close to it that you can smell the smoke and see the flames, but you decide to stay put?

In all of this, I discovered that yes, I probably over-react.

I have always been a baby when it comes to foreboding disaster and impending doom. I tend to want to get away from it, to protect myself and my family, to flat out RUN!

I wasn’t crazy about living on the third floor to begin with, I am extremely claustrophobic, I cannot stand to be closed in and will not take an elevator without The Sweetheart attached to my side. Yes, it’s bad.

Now I am also going to be terrified of fires. We haven’t been in this beautiful country even two weeks and already I am dreading the remaining ten in this apartment.

We make our way back upstairs and fight the smell of smoke for weeks to come. Every night when I would try to go to sleep I would replay the events of the day of the fire over and over in my head. It was too close, too personal and just too scary. (My pictures are after the fact so unfortunately, it doesn’t look as bad as it I remember it!)


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But one night it was as if the Lord spoke to me and said that even though the fire was frightening, that there was nothing to be afraid of.

He had brought us there, we had a work to do, and He would take care of His people.

I could rest and take great comfort in the fact that I was protected and being “watched over”. I just needed to trust.

Do not fear, do not panic. “I am close.”

Stop.

Kingdom2

 

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Friend…it’s not what you think

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It’s Five Minute Friday! Today’s prompt is “Friends”. This one is a fave. Would love to hear about your best friend!

Writing about “friends” is risky. You could leave that special someone out of your post and offend them. You could not include a family member and face “the look” for the next ten Thanksgiving holidays.

If you choose one of your children…well…I think you know where that would get you.

Of course you would expect me to write about Jesus! I do that several times each week and He definitely is ALWAYS there for me. He never lets me down, never offends me, and never forsakes me, no matter how many mistakes I make.

This other friend has been there for me for 38 years.

Day in.

Day out.

And he definitely is not God.

A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still gently allows you to grow.

That’s from Shakespeare. He nailed it.

We were kids when we met. Then we were friends. Quickly we became boyfriend and girlfriend.

“I like you. Do you like me? Check this box.”

Click To Tweet

Okay, we were a little too old for that but since this was the age before texting, we did have to rely on notes.

We left them everywhere. Since we were in high school together for one year, we would leave them in each other’s lockers in between classes. Highlight of my day was to see a folded up smidgeon of a note sticking out of the vents in my locker!

I would find them dropped through the window of my 1971 Nova (Yeah, be jealous).
I would leave them inside of his 1977 Firethorn Red Camaro (Okay, NOW you can be jealous).

Then of course there was snail mail.

These “love letters” were not things we couldn’t say face to face. But since we didn’t see each other every minute of the day, or even every day, they were the avenue to keep in touch.

We couldn’t wait to be together, we always had so much to talk about. To plan. To dream.

This man has always accepted me for what I am, encouraged me in everything I have ever attempted, and loved me in spite of my plethora of flaws.

We have been through LIFE together.

 

Shared the joy, heartache and memories of helping grow Our Three Sons and the blessing of a beautiful daughter-in-law, who has been a part of our family for so long we cannot imagine life before Rachel.

Thirty eight years later we are together every day.

All day.
24/7.
365.
Together.

We’ve changed. ALOT. And yet we are still the same.

Come July we will celebrate 35 years of marriage. The 38 includes ALL of our togetherness! Now that we have entered the Empty Nest, it’s back to the two of us again. It’s not so bad, really. This love is what made a lifetime of memories for us and gave life and meaning to three others. We started out as friends. It’s a good thing to go back to.

Think I will go write a note, find someplace to hide it and surprise my friend.

38 years

 

 

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Five Minute Friday – Paint

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It’s Five Minute Friday! I’m back! I couldn’t resist today’s word prompt: PAINT. Now to write for five minutes flat, no crazy editing, over-thinking or anything like that. Not a perfect post, not a profound post, just five minutes of focused writing.

Go!

For almost four years straight I painted. Almost every single day. Not a house, not a room, and no, not a beautiful portrait.

I did paint for therapy, for fun, for enjoyment. I painted because people asked me to.

I was a professional painter. Professional means you were paid for your work, right?

Most days I looked forward to it, I loved the challenge, the creativity, the smell of the paints and the feel of the wood in my hands. I felt accomplished, pleased and happy with my work.

Others were happy too! They left me kind words, emailed, sent notes, even called on the telephone.

On days when I didn’t feel well or things were not going just right, I could retreat to my “workshop” and paint my heart out. I covered up imperfections, made something out of nothing and gave something to others that they could treasure. It was healing and comforting to me at a time in my life when there was much uncertainty and confusion.

Over two thousand years ago a Painter came into this world.

He painted beautiful portraits, total transformations. There was nothing or no “subject” He would not tackle. None was too difficult, none too far gone that He could not take their canvas and make it beautiful.

He looked ahead to the finished product. The old, made new again, all from the brush of The Painter.

You see, I just painted shelves that The Sweetheart created from his hands. It took the two of us, working together, to create wooden items that others would want to hang on a wall in their home. Decorate it up and enjoy it for a few years, and then move on to something else.

mary ann's shelf

white cubbie 001 (2)

black cubbie, signs, gracie 014

black weatherford 004 (2)

But this Painter…what He did was permanent…and He did it all for me. For you. “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” 2 Corinthians 5:17.

The Painter

Have you been transformed by The Painter?

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His brush not only covers up the old, it completely does away with it, never to be remembered again. His brush heals. Let Him heal you today!

Stop.

Kingdom2

 

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