The Beacon
Blue Mound UMC September 2024
If I’d Never Had A Problem
Problem is defined as: 1. A source of distress 2. Something difficult to deal with 3. A complex unsettling question to solve, decide or work through.
Andraé Crouch wrote a song in 1995 called Through It All, one verse says:
“I’ve had many tears and sorrows, I’ve had questions for tomorrow, there’s been times I didn’t know right from wrong. But in every situation, God gave me blessed consolation, that my trials come to only make me strong.”
I have heard people talk about God experiences: That we cannot always be on the mountain top, we have to go down through the valleys too. And we learn in both places.
Another verse of the song says:
“So, I thank God for the Mountains, and I thank him for the Valleys. And I thank him for the storms he brought me through. For if I’d never had a problem, I’d never know that God could solve them. I’d never know what faith in his word could do.”
The song’s chorus tells us:
“Through it all, through it all, I’ve learned to trust in Jesus,
I’ve learned to trust in God. Through it all, through it all,
I’ve learned to depend upon His Word.”
A Great Message for All of Us. -Linda
I’d Never Know That God Could Solve Them.
Pastor’s Corner – The Enemy Next Door.
Peggy Wehmeyer is a former religion news correspondent for WFAA-TV and ABC News. She continued this article as a part of Dallas Morning News’ series The American Middle. It illustrates grace as an alternative to division.
Whenever I wonder what it will take to stop us from attacking our adversaries, I think back to my first experience of hating my neighbor.
I was 27 when I landed an early-morning news anchor job at WFAA-TV (Channel 8) in Dallas. Each weekday, I set my alarm for 2:30 a.m., showered, put on makeup and dressed as though I was competing in a fashion show. Then I jumped into my blue Honda Accord and sped south on Central Expressway toward the bright red lights of the WFAA-TV broadcast tower.
The biggest impediment to my success as a morning news anchor wasn’t the hours, my wardrobe or my on-air delivery. It was the enemy next door.
To get enough sleep to function in my job, I was under the covers with lights out no later than 8 p.m., but my neighbor had a Yorkshire terrier that barked incessantly in the evenings, running along the chain-link fence just outside my bedroom window.
I repeatedly asked my neighbor to take her dog inside at night. She ignored my pleas.
Morning after morning, I dragged myself out of bed, smeared concealer under my eyes and guzzled coffee to make up for lost sleep.
My resentment boiled like hot lava. How could an eight-pound dog sabotage my best efforts to excel in a competitive television market?
I lay in bed at night listening to the dog’s shrill bark and imagining all the ways I could silence him. It wasn’t pretty. When I began to fantasize about lacing a juicy steak with poison and dropping it over the fence, my dark passion caught me by surprise. Who was I becoming? This woman who sang in church on Sundays, and on Mondays dreamed up ways to hurt her neighbor’s pet.
Instead of silencing the Yorkie, my husband and I filed a noise complaint with the city. The court set a hearing date for Dec. 24.
My neighbor, in retaliation, baited a trap on her property with cat food, lured my beloved tabby over the fence and sent him to the pound.
By the time my husband’s parents arrived for their Christmastime visit, I was obsessed with thoughts of revenge. Since my in-laws were my heroes and spiritual mentors, I asked them what they would do about my neighbor’s dog.
“If you’re going to be a follower of Jesus,” my father-in-law said, “you’ll love your enemy, not sue her.”
Over the decades I’d watched my father-in-law epitomize what it looked like to “love your neighbor as yourself.” This was a man who had suffered in a Japanese prisoner of war camp during World War II and had forgiven his brutal captors. I aspired to his level of goodness but hadn’t come close.
As our court date approached, I had to choose which part of me would control my next move: the contemptuous one who felt justified in demonizing her neighbor, or the kind and empathetic one being seriously tested. Both parts competed for power, keeping me in turmoil. In the end, I could only allow one to own me.
Days before Christmas, I walked reluctantly across the driveway dividing our houses, climbed the front steps and knocked on my neighbor’s door.
She opened the door and faced me with a steely grimace.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I came to apologize,” I said. “I’m sorry I’ve ramped up this conflict by taking you to court on Christmas Eve. I don’t want to fight anymore. If there’s anything I can do to be a better neighbor, I hope you’ll let me know.”
Surrendering my right to get a peaceful night’s sleep left me feeling powerless, even humiliated. But as I watched the surprise register on my neighbor’s face, something else happened in me. I felt lighter, freer, released from an ugly burden.
Theologian and civil rights activist Howard Thurman once said, “Of all weapons, love is the most deadly and devastating, and few there be who dare trust their fate in its hands.”
As our brief exchange ended, I glanced past her shoulder into a cluttered, smoke-filled living room where a toddler, the same age as mine, sat coloring. My rage inexplicably gave way to compassion.
A few weeks later, Laura — I’ll use that name — crossed the driveway to knock on my door.
“You said you wanted to be a good neighbor,” she said, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve run out of grocery money for the week, and I’m wondering if you could lend me enough to buy milk for my daughter. I can pay you back in a few days.”
“Really?” I wanted to say to God. “Isn’t this asking a little much?”
I pulled a $20 bill out of my wallet and handed it to her. It wasn’t long before Laura and I began talking over the fence about our neighborhood and her little girl, whom I’ll call Kassie. She repaid the milk money, the dog stopped barking, and I came to know Laura as a bright and kind woman with a warm smile. Over time I learned she struggled with mental illness, much like my own mother. She told me she had one friend, and it was me.
Years later, when her brother died tragically, Laura came to my house on the day of his funeral and asked if I would listen to his favorite song with her. She didn’t want to do it alone.
We sat in silence in my living room, while the song played over and over. When it was time for her to leave, I was unsure of what to say. So, I reached for her hand and asked if I could pray for her. She nodded, teary-eyed.
We were neighbors for seven years before Laura and I moved to different parts of town. I attended Kassie’s wedding, but eventually we lost touch.
Several years ago, I noticed a Facebook post from Kassie. Her mother was in the hospital and close to death. I called Kassie and asked if I could come. “Yes, please come,” she said. “You were her only friend. It would mean a lot.”
I rushed to the hospital. When I walked into her room, Laura was still breathing, though her eyes were closed, and the doctors didn’t know how much she could understand. Kassie told me that her mother had attempted suicide. I leaned over the bed, my face close to Laura’s.
“Laura, it’s Peggy, your friend, and I’m here,” I whispered. “You’re not alone. I love you. God loves you.”
The silence reminded me of the day years before when she and I sat in my house, listening to her brother’s funeral song. I wasn’t sure what to do then and I wasn’t sure now. What words would bring her comfort? I pulled out my cellphone, googled “Bible verses for the dying,” and began to whisper into the ear of my former enemy, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me…”
Laura opened her eyes briefly and closed them again. I could swear she knew I was there, but in truth, I’ll never really know. What I do know is that as she died, Laura handed me a bittersweet gift.
Years before I met Laura, my mother, who also battled depression, had taken her life in the same way. She lived across the country. I couldn’t get to her in time to say goodbye. I never got to stroke my mother’s hair like I did Laura’s or remind her that she was loved.
Now, a woman I once called my enemy was freeing me from that long-held regret and sorrow.
Laura died that night. I’ll never forget her, nor the friendship that taught me that it’s kindness, not revenge, that makes us fully human.
As our presidential race heats up, I anticipate the air we breathe will become even more poisonous with lies and hate, eroding the fragile ties that hold our country together. Each of us will have to choose whether to give into the temptation to join the toxic chorus or lean into our better angels — the ones that call us to walk across the driveways that divide us and knock on an enemy’s door.
This ends Peggy’s article, but I hope God can use it to open our hearts to those around us regardless of whatever our political leanings may be. Some of us lean left, some of us lean right, and some of us are in the middle. Regardless, we can each love one another, because love is one gift God gave to each of us.
Peace be with you, Buster
September Celebrations
Birthday
02 Jacob Klein
Michael Trietsch
James “Herf” Graham
03 Jessica Wright
04 Jasmine Wright
05 Juliet Wright
Tiffany Schertz Cooper
09 Kay Goodman
Nancy Franklin
13 Sally Harding Weiss
20 Trinity Kraft
24 Judy Klein
Lonnie Roberson
28 Amy Bowland
Anniversary
04 Jeff and Cindy Coffman
18 Sam and Karen Reynolds
“Celebrate the little victories, for they are the building blocks of greater success.” – Unknown
“Your life is a canvas. Celebrate every stroke of the brush.” – Unknown
“Celebrate the magic that happens when you step out of your comfort zone.” – Unknown
“Celebrate your unique talents and share them with the world.” – Unknown
Do you know the answer to these Riddles?
- What can you catch but not throw?
- What has hands and a face, but no arms or legs?
- Without me Thanksgiving and Christmas are incomplete, when I’m on the table everyone tends to overeat. What am I?
- Why are teddy bears never hungry?
- What gets wet while drying?
>Answers on Calendar Page
Little Boy and the Family Bible
A little boy opened the big family bible. He was fascinated as he fingered through the old pages. Suddenly, something fell out of the Bible. He picked up the object and looked at it. What he saw was an old leaf that had been pressed in between the pages.
“Mama, look what I found”, the boy called out.
“What have you got there?”
With astonishment in the young boy’s voice, he answered,
“I think it’s Adam’s underwear.”
(See Genesis Chapter 2 & 3 for the Story of Adam and Eve)
Calendar
01 Holy Communion
02 Labor Day
08 Second Sunday Lunch, Noon
Grandparent’s Day
22 First Day of Autumn
28 Family Fellowship Night, 6:00 pm Fun, Games, and Food.
Blue Mound Offers two Bible Studies -Tuesday, 10 a.m. Pastor Buster, walks us through 2 Corinthians, come early at 9:30 a.m. and join the Prayer Team.
>On Sunday morning at 9:30 come for the Seekers Study before Worship, lead by Linda Boyer. September, we take a look at some Jewish Feasts and Festivals. Both Bible Studies are relaxed and informal and includes open discussions.
Second Sunday Lunch – Every second Sunday of the month, we have lunch after Worship. Bring your special food dish and added to our table. Enjoy!
Game Night is every fourth Saturday of the month at 6 p.m. Bring your special food dish. Bring a Friend. Everyone Welcome! Fun, Food, and Fellowship.
Answers to Riddles: 1. A cold. 2. A clock. 3. A Turkey. 4. Because they are always stuffed. 5. A towel.
BLUE MOUND UNITED METHODIST CHURCH
8421 N. Interstate 35, Denton, TX 76207-1537 (940) 382-0825
Midway between Denton and Sanger at Exit 473
Sunday School: 9:30 am, Sunday Worship: 10:45 am
Website: www.bluemoundumc.org
Linda Boyer, Newsletter Editor
Need to contact Pastor Buster Noah?
Email: pastor@bluemoundumc.org
