01.09.10
Posted in Janet's Posts at 3:43 pm by John
Hey Everybody,
It’s January, and I am loving every chilly minute of it. I just returned from a concert at the great First Assembly in Ft. Myers, Florida where 1600 people sang, worshipped, and, in general, made for a spectacular evening. I don’t think anyone of us wanted to go home!
Everywhere I travel lately, cities are reaching record temperatures and making new lows (I’m trying not to take that personally.) We actually had a terrific snow event where we live and it stayed on the ground for about a week. My dad says it was waiting on another snow; I’m thinking it was simply Global Cooling.
I would love to see you all at some of the upcoming spring solo concerts. These are wonderful evenings when, as Mark Lowry says, ‘God shows up.’ Here’s a link to the schedule:
http://janetpaschal.com/schedule.html
Here is the blog offering, along with a picture worth a thousand, well, a couple of hundred words…
We love you!
Janet
TOM THUMB
It was defined by slabs of wood laid across cinderblocks. These makeshift shelves were stocked with cans long emptied of vegetables, but still brandishing a decipherable sticker price from our local A&P. Atop one of the shelves was my bright blue Tom Thumb cash register, filled with Monopoly money and loose change. I first played consumer, selecting various items for purchase, then I became the cashier, a role which made it all worthwhile. I would mentally tally the items then accept cash payment. When I pressed the register’s ‘Total’ button, a bell would ring and the cash drawer spring open. I spent hours upon pleasurable hours playing ‘store’ in the pine trees. I also received more tick bites and reprimands for staying too long outdoors than for any other single trespass.
When mom summoned us for supper, it was fairly predictable. We sat at the four seat, yellow formica table with chrome edges. Someone prayed, then we began passing the food. My mom talked to dad about whatever things were happening at her job and he did the same. My sister and I knew about the cutbacks, expansions, and daily routines of both our parents because most of their communication happened at the dinner table. We also knew about world events, local economies, and the rising cost of heating fuel. My sister talked about her day at school in her inimitable fashion, aiding and abetting where necessary. I think I learned more about home economics from her vivid descriptions at the dinner table than from the class I attended three years later.
I have come to understand how fortunate we were to share that time together every day. I have come to understand that I was gleaning life lessons over fried chicken and homemade biscuits. I did not then realize that I was learning about character, as my dad would relate an event at work where someone had proven untrustworthy or less than completely honest. I had no idea that I was learning about compassion, as my mom spoke of the dire needs of the people with whom she worked. (None of us wondered why she sometimes packed extra lunches.) I did not know that I was learning to embrace friendship from my sister who assumed everyone on the planet was a friend she had yet to meet.
Perhaps this is why that one of the most poignant moments of Jesus’ 33 years on earth was, for me, during the Bible’s most familiar meal. The Passover supper was so important that Jesus gave specific instructions regarding the location and told his apostles that he had ‘eagerly desired’ to eat the meal with them. It was here that Jesus shared His upcoming betrayal. Knowing that His time was quickly coming to an end, He gave them a Reader’s Digest version of the things that really matter: the greatest should be the least, the ruler should be the servant, and then the payoff. Because they had been faithful to follow Him, they would eat and drink at His table and occupy thrones in the kingdom. He singled out Simon Peter (a preacher once said that perhaps Jesus took his chin in His hand) when he said, “Satan has desired to sift you as wheat, but I have prayed for you.”
When the Jews celebrate Passover today, they pray the Passover Prayer, which recalls the triumphant story of their people. Read for yourself:
Long ago, at this season, on such a night as this, a people – our people – set out on a journey.
All but crushed by their enslavement, they yet recalled the far-off memory of a happier past and heard the voice of their ancestral God, bidding them summon up the courage to be free.
Boldly, they went forth from Egypt, crossed the Sea, and headed through the desert for the Promised Land.
What they experienced, they remembered, and told their children, and they to theirs.
From generation to generation, the story was retold, and we are here to tell it yet again.
We, too, give thanks for Israel’s liberation; we, too, remember what it means to be a slave.
And so we pray for all who are still fettered, still denied their human rights. Let all God’s children sit a his table, drink the wine of deliverance, and eat the bread of freedom.
Freedom from bondage and freedom from oppression,
Freedom from hunger and freedom from want,
Freedom from hatred and freedom from fear,
Freedom to think and freedom to speak
Freedom to learn and freedom to love
Freedom to hope and freedom to rejoice
Soon in our days, Amen.
So, when you next share a meal with family or friends, remember to lean in and pay close attention. Try to listen between the lines and hear the past, as well as the present. Don’t forget that this is a great opportunity to affect those with whom you break bread. And if your children are like me, fascinated with the outdoors, give them a break.
They may have customers waiting.
Kay and Janet
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12.09.09
Posted in Janet's Posts at 9:06 am by Janet
It’s Tuesday, 43 degrees in our corner of the world, and I’m watching the afternoon close for the evening. The girls in the backyard (Maggie2 (the magnolia), Mr. and Mrs. Plum, and the Myrtle clan) are regrouping for the winter. They embrace every season, but the girls really miss their showy outfits during the cold months. It’s a girl thing, for sure.
I’m finishing up my Christmas concerts in Mississippi this weekend, Seattle area next, then I’m home until January. These wonderful days of celebration, family, food, and remembrance will too soon be over. I’m going to try especially hard to savor every moment of the upcoming weeks and to continually remind myself that this Christmas is unique. This will be my only chance to enjoy it to the full.
I wish for you all a very, Merry Christmas and the best New Year ever!
We love you!!
Janet
P.S. As always, you may access my concert schedule at: www.janetpaschal.com
*Enroute to a Christmas concert in West Virginia, we passed Andy Griffiith’s ‘Mt. Pilot,’ aka Pilot Mountain and Pilot Knob.
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11.07.09
Posted in Janet's Posts at 6:30 am by Janet
There is an old German proverb which states, “The wheels of God grind slowly, but, oh, so fine.” Through the years I have reminded myself of that phrase when the wicked prospered and justice seemed unjust. I have been comforted by a stubborn belief that God is the final authority on correction, but it was only recently that the flip side of this saying occurred to me.
Perhaps that is what was in play when Joseph trudged through God’s plan for him. Despite my best efforts, I can hardly imagine living this dreamer’s life. Born with familial scoundrels in his lineage, he became the favored son of his father. When he shared with his unpampered brothers two dreams that they would, one day, bow down to him, they took their first opportunity to promptly wrestle the teenager into a pit. (Wrestling ran in the family.) A traveling flea market happened by and they sold him for twenty pieces of silver. Joseph was taken to Egypt and sold to Pharoah’s captain of the guard.
Joseph was favored of the Lord and he became successful in everything he did. Living in his master’s house, he caught the eye of Potiphar’s wife, who was frustrated by his refusal of her advances. She wrongfully accused him and he was thrown into prison. But even there, Joseph’s favor from the Lord quickly became obvious and he was made responsible for his fellow inmates.
Some time later, Joseph was assigned two additional prisoners, the king’s chief cupbearer and chief baker. When they each had dreams which disturbed them, Joseph proceeded to interpret them. Knowing that the cupbearer would be returned to the king’s service, he asked him to mention his situation to the king. Three days later, when his interpretations proved accurate and the cupbearer was restored to his position, he forgot about Joseph.
Two years passed, and King Pharoah had a dream. He inquired of all of the magicians and wise men, but none could interpret it. Suddenly, his cupbearer remembered Joseph and told Pharoah about the young Hebrew in the dungeon. Pharoah immediately called for him.
Joseph meticulously dressed and groomed for a meeting with the king. When Pharoah recounted his dreams, Joseph proceeded to explain their meanings. Recognizing the spirit of God evident in him, Pharoah put Joseph in charge of the entire land of Egypt, second in command only to himself. Joseph was thirty years old.
You know the rest of the story. Seven years of plenty allowed Joseph to fill their storehouses with grain, in preparation for the seven years of famine. People from all over the world came to buy grain from Egypt. Joseph’s brothers did not recognize him when they came to buy, but he knew them. Eventually, he revealed himself to them, adding, ‘Do not be distressed and angry at yourselves for selling me here, because it was to saves lives that God sent me ahead of you.’
Whew. What I hear him say is that it was all in God’s plan. God knew about the dungeon. God knew about the chains. God knew that the cupbearer would forget and Potiphar’s wife would lie. God, alone, knew that the king would dream.
The wheels of God ground slowly. Joseph was seventeen when he was sold into slavery; thirty when he was appointed to the second highest office in the land. For thirteen years he labored dutifully, woke and slept, prayed and pressed in to the heart of God. All the while, the patient, longsuffering wheels of God’s design were grinding his intractable conviction into a rich covering, a fine veil of favor and blessing, a life flush with faith and rigid with resolve.
Had Joseph expected to be rewarded for his success in the service of Potiphar he would have been sorely disappointed. Had he expected to be exonerated of the false charges brought against him, he would have waited in vain. Had he anticipated that his interpretation of the cupbearer’s dream would free him from the dungeon, he would have, again, found himself disillusioned. Joseph, instead, lived with the great expectation that God was with him, that His purposes were worthwhile, and that he would not be disappointed.
Was he ever right.
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09.25.09
Posted in Janet's Posts at 10:44 am by Janet
Hey Everybody,
Here are some pictures from NQC… this is the #1 party….. our WALKING THE GOOD ROAD event…. and dinner in Nashville with the former members of Jimmy Swaggart Crusade Team.
#1 Party at NQC
We love you!!
Janet
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09.04.09
Posted in Janet's Posts at 7:22 pm by Janet
My sister and I think it slightly unjust that our parents do not have a houseful of grandchildren. Their capacity for loving and nurturing far exceeds the needs of the lone, single son of my sister. While I have brought into their lives a puppy who fully believes he is human, there exist distinct limitations when compared to the possibilities of watching a young boy become a man. Perhaps it is because they have only one opportunity to participate in the great event of grandparenting that they do it so well.
When my nephew, Benjamin, was small, my dad bought for him a toy guitar so that he could play along with his own sweet, mellow Gibson. They sat for hours playing and singing songs. Their repertoire was built on gospel standards like, Victory in Jesus, Blessed Assurance, and Bless That Wonderful Name. However, if I know my dad, he would have made certain that some George Jones material was in the mix, as well.
When my nephew failed to crawl right away, dad repeatedly sank to the floor to ‘show’ him how much more advantageous that method of movement. When he played T-Ball, dad never missed a game, never missed a pitch. The first morning Benjamin mounted the steps of a yellow school bus, my dad cried.
Benjamin rode atop dad’s red tractor when it was time to plow the garden; he rode inside the metal wheelbarrow when there were vegetables to transport. Dad rigged a hitch from his riding mower to Benjamin’s red wagon and all summer long they mowed decreasing circles around the property.
My nephew always possessed an amazing capacity for memorization. As a child, he and dad watched favorite episodes of Laurel and Hardy or The Three Stooges and re-enacted them afterwards. They exchanged roles from time to time, with Benjamin providing scripts. For us, these versions were often funnier than Stan and Ollie’s originals.
The morning Benjamin stepped onto the stage of Elon University with a Magna Cum Laude honor sash, my dad, again, cried. We suspected that his emotions were more closely tied to wheelbarrows than academics.
This past March we celebrated Benjamin’s 28th birthday at a local restaurant. He received cards from all of us and, as usual, my parents added a personal sentiment to theirs. Dad’s spelling has never been stellar, nor his grammar up to par, but he, almost 77 years old, wrote,
“Ben-Ben, I wish we could play Laurel and Hardy again and I
will be the little one and you can be the big one. I enjoyed playing
when you were little. I love you very, very much and God bless you
all through your life.”
Benjamin never had to do anything to earn my dad’s love; it just was. It never depended on his achievements or abilities, or whether it was reciprocated. He could not have stepped out of the sphere of my dad’s affection if he had tried. That’s the beauty of love – it is determined not by the one who receives it, but by the one who gives it.
So the next time you are driving in the country, and you happen to see a child in the wake of a riding lawn mower or balanced in a wheelbarrow full of freshly picked corn, be sure to take a good look. You will be witnessing some of the best moments of the child’s life – and the grandparent’s, too.
Janet
ParPar and Benjamin
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08.27.09
Posted in Janet's Posts at 7:40 pm by Janet
Hey Everybody,
For those of you who will be attending National Quartet Convention this year, we wanted to let you know about a very exciting event taking place on Saturday, the 19th. NQC, JOY FM, and I are hosting a cancer walk benefiting breast cancer research. We’ll meet at the entrance to Freedom Hall at 8am Saturday morning and we’ll all ‘Walk The Good Road’ for a cure. There is a $10 registration fee, and the first 300 registrants will receive a free commemorative t-shirt.
This is a first. You don’t want to miss it. We don’t want to miss you. Let’s go out and make a difference!!!
I’ll see you there….
Janet
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07.02.09
Posted in Janet's Posts at 5:41 am by Janet
Hey Everybody,
It’s July 2nd – and everyone seems to be stocking up on charcoal, hot dogs and sparklers. It’s time to celebrate our Red, White, and Blue; time to whisper a word of gratitude for freedom past, a prayer for freedom future.
I’ve been blessed to have celebrated the 4th already this year, and we’re still 2 days out. I joined First Baptist Dallas for USA Today – a huge event complete with incredible choir, orchestra, pomp, circumstance, and flags – always the flags. Tomorrow I’ll join Ivan Parker for our second Independence Day celebration in beautiful Staunton, Virginia at Gypsy Hill Park. How blessed can one person be?
Doran Bugg, Minister of Music FIRST BAPTIST DALLAS
I hope that each of you will enjoy this incredible weekend. I hope that you will be with those you love. I hope that your backyard chef is up to the task, and I hope your fireworks are loud and colorful. I hope that you break into song, “God Bless America” at the least likely moment, and I hope that God is listening – and does.
We love you…..
Janet
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06.18.09
Posted in Janet's Posts at 7:08 am by Janet
It’s Tuesday night and I’ve just come from my monthly dinner with Kay and our cousins. We spent three and a half hours in a Mexican restaurant that was finished with us before we were finished with them. I don’t know that the walls in that establishment have ever had laughter as hearty or consistent.
There are rumblings of a Carolina thunderstorm, and there are rumblings of other, more protracted storms, as well. Two friends from my hometown have learned that their breast cancer has returned with a vengeance. One friend, about my age, is terminal. While I have been planting spring flowers and hosing down lawn furniture, she has been making other, more permanent decisions about flowers and furniture.
Some would say she is fortunate, and, in a way, I guess that is true. She will be able to communicate sentiments and regulate the transfer of her possessions. Knowing her, she will leave no stone unturned. What she will not do is take care of her parents, have grandchildren, or grow old.
Someone recently sent an email blast with a quote from Erma Bombeck shortly after she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Here is a portion of what she said:
“IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER….
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute, look at it and really see it…live it and never give it back.”
So, forgive me if I am a little pensive tonight. I am reconciling the loss of another little fraction of the world as I know it. It weighs on me, as it does everyone who knows her. But we will get through it. It is likely that we will share many more monthly dinners. It is probable that we will experience the rage of countless more summer thunderstorms. It is certain that we will see her again.
Blessings,
Janet
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04.07.09
Posted in Janet's Posts at 9:35 am by Janet
Hey Everybody,
It’s the Tuesday before Easter. Somehow I am thinking that I should go to the mall and buy a new dress and shoes (you saw that coming, didn’t you?) As a child, my mom always bought my sister and me new outfits complete with pastel, frilly dress, white patent shoes, white frilly socks and hat with rubber band string. We usually gathered in the front yard for a picture, although if my mom was taking it she usually captured more sky than face.
I always wondered why we dressed up in new clothes? That was a very special event for us. The beginning of the school year was really the only other time that we intentionally bought new clothes.
Was it because we were remembering His sacrifice? Was it because we were celebrating His life? Was it because Easter still represented the crux of what we believe and the star onto which we have hooked our lives?
To be honest, I guess it was all of those things. We were remembering – His submissive response in the Garden of Gethsemane. We were celebrating – because He really did what He said He would do: come back bearing the keys to death. We were throwing a party – because anytime someone displaces a stone and emerges in grave clothes, there MUST be a party. I’m just glad I had the shoes for it.
We’ve just finished two days, three shows in Ft. Worth, Texas. Ironically, I’m going back to Irving for an Easter sunrise service. It will be my first in a lot of years and I’m really looking forward to it. I’m leaving my white shoes and hat at home.
We love you all. Happy Easter!!!
Love,
Janet
PS… All 12 soundtracks from the new project, TREASURE, are finally here. You may order from the Online Store at www.janetpaschal.com     Sorry for the delay!
PPS… Thanks for the photo, Sherrie Mac!!
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03.24.09
Posted in Janet's Posts at 8:32 pm by Janet
Hey Everybody,
Guess what came in the mail today? The first soundtracks from the new project, TREASURE. We are releasing all 12 songs on CD, and we are putting 4 songs on each CD (there are no demo vocals so you’ll have to buy the TREASURE CD:)
Today we received 2 of the 3 CDs. They should be added to the online store this week! Thanks for your patience…
Janet
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