Have you ever been judged by someone who you had hoped knew your heart? Have you ever been misunderstood? Have you made decisions on simple things, just for an example, how to seat guests at a dinner, and had those decisions criticized? Yes, that is a strange example, but it happens.
If the answer is yes, then welcome to this time and term we call 'Life'. Life is full of judgments, misunderstandings, criticisms, negativism, etc. etc. Ninety percent of what life includes is ours to deal with and work through. Yes, there is that ten percent that is not our deal, but I don’t think we are free as believers to blame life on anyone else. In dealing with life, we have to accept the pain of disgruntlement, and give it to God.
My life is simply not going to go the way I want it to. I don’t have the master plan that will work. I am simply not smart enough to do that. I am simply not gifted enough. I am simply not enough of anything to be all knowing, to look into the future and know what needs to be done or look into the past and decide what should have been done.
Life is messy. I can handle that. It’s when communication has shut down and you are no longer able to discuss misperceptions (because the other person doesn't want to work it out) that I have the most difficulty. I am a person who desires to understand. I desire to be understood and to understand others’ words, thoughts and feelings. This usually demands that I ask questions, lots of questions. Sometimes, I am sure this gets on the nerve of other people.
Life gets messier when you are judged as not desiring to understand. ‘Judged’, that would be the magic word. I have been studying about that term some. It means that we have decided 'what is', based on our little window into the world. It is presumptious that any of us could know any of the thoughts of another person, etc. only through our little lens.
I will never forget being on a bus in Russia one day, when it was very cold. A little elderly lady was seated beside me, next to the window. She took her thumbnail and scratched off the ice in the shape and size of a postage stamp – yes inside the bus, so that she could see outside. How else would we know when it was time to get off the bus? I’ve remembered that scene many times, as I realize that none of us have the whole picture on anything. We only get a better picture (I’m not thinking we can ever get the whole picture – the whole truth), when we are willing to discuss issues, misunderstandings, criticisms, yes, and even why we placed a person in a particular seat at the table when necessary. When we are ready to hear the other person’s view of why they said or did what they did or the way they were, then real understanding comes and grace can be given.
When this is not the situation, when the flow of conversation is eliminated, then we all lose. Life is too short to dwell on what isn’t, or what wasn’t. It takes discipline and a determined will and God, His Word, The Holy Spirit, and lots of prayer to stay focused on the good – the positive in this life. The attitude of gratefulness carries us a long way toward having a joy filled heart in the midst of the messiness of life.
Yes, as you probably have already guessed I am in a place of great misunderstanding, of being judged, of grace not being extended to me. When these times come, the most interesting thing is that anyone thinks that grace can be omitted. How as believers do we ever walk through life without it? We are always responsible to deal with grace. Sometimes the pain goes so deep that grace is blocked. I can understand that very well. However, to have a heart that is joyful, it is needful to develop gratitude for the good. We are to look for it as if we are searching for gold and silver. To do that, we are to set our minds on what is commanded in Philippians 4:8,“Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.” New Living Translation
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
A Memorable Day
“That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But, it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.” Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
I’ve thought about this quote often, about how my life would be so different if one day was missing or if one day was changed. For each and every day has added to my life, added to my learning, added to my heart being changed. I don’t feel that I have lost anything or been deprived of anything in my life. I have only gained – wisdom, character, and treasures from heaven, poured out from the Father’s hand to me as gifts for my life.
Take yesterday for instance. My husband and I attended a preview showing of a new movie coming out on November 20. “The Blind Side” is about the life of Michael Oher, a homeless boy from inner city Memphis, who is encouraged to enroll at Briarcrest Christian School, a school attended by many wealthy Memphis kids. My former church started this school in 1973; my daughters attended this school and now my son-in-law coaches and teaches there.
Day after day Michael encounters many different challenges of being a poor African American kid in a rich, white world. These are hard things for a kid, but there are much harder things to overcome in life. What about the white family and the mother who adopted him? What were their challenges? What about Michael’s mother? What was I going through just watching this movie? The African American lady seated next to me kept turning to her friend and saying, “We’re gonna have to take this lady out on a stretcher before the movie is over. She’s not going to make it.”
"Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts." Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
How is our life changed by the things placed in our path? Think about that.
Here are other questions:
How was Michael Oher changed?
How was the adoptive family changed?
How was a school (Briarcrest) changed?
How were the teachers at Briarcrest (Wingate in the movie) changed?
How does a community change?
How does a country change?
Here’s the big question for me today? How has seeing this movie and hearing about Michael’s story changed me?
My first response as I sat in that movie was shame and embarrassment over much excess in my life. Those of us who live in rich white (not exclusively, but for the most part) Memphis don’t even see or think about the shady side of town. When I think about the needs of the people in the inner city, not material needs alone, but needs to have a better life, to be better people, I realize that only knowing Jesus Christ can bring that kind of change to a life. Most often these people are trapped. They only live what they know and they don’t know that they can have a different life. It is their legacy, it’s all they know. Education can only go so far.
Love can make the difference. When people want a changed life, they will look for it, but probably not until they are sick and tired of the life they have. The idiom, “You can take a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink”, fits here pretty well. I have many African American friends who I treasure, who love Jesus Christ and walk daily with him. But what about those who have never heard, and don't know. It does not matter the race, the culture, the city, or the country that people come from. I never wanted to live in Memphis, nor Little Rock, nor Russia. I even told God that years ago. Where did I find myself living? Memphis (3 times), Little Rock for 21 years, and Russia. God has taught me so much from going where I never wanted to go, and from the people in these places. These encounters have enriched my life, and changed me. I am so glad that God is in charge of my life.
As I have contemplated these questions this morning, my conclusion is that I simply want to be available to care for whoever God puts in my path. I want my life to count for Him. Wherever He sends me I will go, and whoever He sends to me I want to serve. This movie dug deep into my heart and did some plowing, which is always necessary for fresh growth.
Thank you Lord for the Touhy family, who were willing to experience loss and give up being comfortable to make Michael Oher’s comfort a priority. Thank you Lord for being in charge of me.
“Whatever things were assets to me, these I now consider a loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I continue to consider all these things as a loss for the sake of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. It is because of Him that I have experienced the loss of all those things. Indeed, I consider them rubbish in order to gain Christ.” Philippians 3: 7-8, International Standard Version
I’ve thought about this quote often, about how my life would be so different if one day was missing or if one day was changed. For each and every day has added to my life, added to my learning, added to my heart being changed. I don’t feel that I have lost anything or been deprived of anything in my life. I have only gained – wisdom, character, and treasures from heaven, poured out from the Father’s hand to me as gifts for my life.
Take yesterday for instance. My husband and I attended a preview showing of a new movie coming out on November 20. “The Blind Side” is about the life of Michael Oher, a homeless boy from inner city Memphis, who is encouraged to enroll at Briarcrest Christian School, a school attended by many wealthy Memphis kids. My former church started this school in 1973; my daughters attended this school and now my son-in-law coaches and teaches there.
Day after day Michael encounters many different challenges of being a poor African American kid in a rich, white world. These are hard things for a kid, but there are much harder things to overcome in life. What about the white family and the mother who adopted him? What were their challenges? What about Michael’s mother? What was I going through just watching this movie? The African American lady seated next to me kept turning to her friend and saying, “We’re gonna have to take this lady out on a stretcher before the movie is over. She’s not going to make it.”
"Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts." Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
How is our life changed by the things placed in our path? Think about that.
Here are other questions:
How was Michael Oher changed?
How was the adoptive family changed?
How was a school (Briarcrest) changed?
How were the teachers at Briarcrest (Wingate in the movie) changed?
How does a community change?
How does a country change?
Here’s the big question for me today? How has seeing this movie and hearing about Michael’s story changed me?
My first response as I sat in that movie was shame and embarrassment over much excess in my life. Those of us who live in rich white (not exclusively, but for the most part) Memphis don’t even see or think about the shady side of town. When I think about the needs of the people in the inner city, not material needs alone, but needs to have a better life, to be better people, I realize that only knowing Jesus Christ can bring that kind of change to a life. Most often these people are trapped. They only live what they know and they don’t know that they can have a different life. It is their legacy, it’s all they know. Education can only go so far.
Love can make the difference. When people want a changed life, they will look for it, but probably not until they are sick and tired of the life they have. The idiom, “You can take a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink”, fits here pretty well. I have many African American friends who I treasure, who love Jesus Christ and walk daily with him. But what about those who have never heard, and don't know. It does not matter the race, the culture, the city, or the country that people come from. I never wanted to live in Memphis, nor Little Rock, nor Russia. I even told God that years ago. Where did I find myself living? Memphis (3 times), Little Rock for 21 years, and Russia. God has taught me so much from going where I never wanted to go, and from the people in these places. These encounters have enriched my life, and changed me. I am so glad that God is in charge of my life.
As I have contemplated these questions this morning, my conclusion is that I simply want to be available to care for whoever God puts in my path. I want my life to count for Him. Wherever He sends me I will go, and whoever He sends to me I want to serve. This movie dug deep into my heart and did some plowing, which is always necessary for fresh growth.
Thank you Lord for the Touhy family, who were willing to experience loss and give up being comfortable to make Michael Oher’s comfort a priority. Thank you Lord for being in charge of me.
“Whatever things were assets to me, these I now consider a loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I continue to consider all these things as a loss for the sake of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. It is because of Him that I have experienced the loss of all those things. Indeed, I consider them rubbish in order to gain Christ.” Philippians 3: 7-8, International Standard Version
Monday, October 12, 2009
What Is a Wild God Chase?
This past weekend I attended Living Proof Live featuring Beth Moore. God’s Word was taught powerfully. The worship was powerful, and worship music was by Travis Cottrell. Beth's titled the conference "Going on a Wild God Chase". God had been preparing my heart for it in the weeks leading up to it, . I have been studying the Book of Daniel, reading back through the Psalms, and reviewing some of my Psalm prayers through the last 35 years, and God’s answers. Sometimes when God is speaking to me, He seems to pour it out all over me and many of the puzzle pieces of my life are filled in. Prayers answered long ago are revealed, but the answers were not what I had expected. God works in mysterious ways. He is creative. He does not work in a box or a prescribed method. His answers are perfect for our life and our heart.
God has been revealing much to me on a deeper level lately:
1. God is building a cathedral in my heart. He is most interested in my heart. It is where His Son lives. His work is unusual, unique, and He can be counted on to work on my heart.
2. I get as much of Jesus as I really want. My prayers reveal my desires. How deeply do I want to know Christ? When I pray to see God’s glory, or when I pray to become more like Christ, then God always answers those prayers. They are in accordance to His perfect will. He will tell me, reveal to me His glory. He will disclose Himself to me when I follow hard after Him. So , I must keep praying for the disclosure of God to me.
3. I learn as much of the Bible as I really want. I either desire to know the truth or I don’t want to know the truth found in God’s Word. Do I really believe that God’s Word holds the Truth for my life? How much do I seek to read and study His Word? Am I hungry for it? Am I seeking it? God will teach me if I want Him to. I can complain if I want, that God is not working on my behalf, but if I do that, it reveals that I have done little to find His truth or Him. I must keep following hard after His Word. I must ask Him for a fresh revelation regularly.
4. God will use my life story as it lines up with His Word and who He is. He never wastes suffering, and neither should I. When I walk through suffering, it will benefit others as well as me. It builds my faith. It refines my faith. One day my faith will be perfected.
5. God is not free to teach the proud, because they already know it. He teaches the humble, the poor in spirit His way and His Word. I am the worse of the worst of being guilty of spiritual pride. God is making me more and more sensitive to this. I am at the point now where when I am overdosed on hearing spiritual pride, I want to simply vomit. I am so sick of hearing it from some around me. We, in the church, are often unaware of why the lost don’t want to come near our church or our people, me included. Often, we make them sick to be in our presence. Oh God, forgive me, forgive us. I really don’t know what I am doing when I brag about the good things I do or the Word that I obey, or when I share a story and be sure to add the parts that make me look so good. I get so full of myself, and start bragging. I get carried away with a love for the sound of my own voice.
6. God hears my prayers, all of them, and especially when I pray His Words back to Him. I tend to forget this. His answers come in the following days and years. Often there is a gap between the prayer and the answer, but often the answer is not recognized as the answer.
7. God has a plan and a purpose for me. He is not bringing isolated incidences or trials into my life. He will connect them, much like dot to dot pictures, at some point in my life, and has recently shown me more connection between the dots.
8. God desires to use my story to minister to the kingdom. I am able to find my place, my spot for ministry when I see the bigger picture. God has known it all along. Most often I can’t see, because often I've been blinded by my trials for awhile. In addition, it is possible to make my trial or my suffering an idol. Any time I begin to worship an idol of any kind I turn away from worshipping the One True God.
9. I need to bless others by sharing how God has built my faith. People need to hear how God has refined my faith. It blesses others, as well as me, when I review and share these things.
10. God has sent me gifts regularly as I have walked with Him through His disclosure to me, fresh revelations, suffering, trials, and blessings. These gifts have not all looked attractive. Many were downright ugly, but ahh those were the very best gifts of all. As Psalms 25:10-11 says, “All the paths of the Lord are loving kindness and truth to those who keep His covenant and His testimonies.”
God has been revealing much to me on a deeper level lately:
1. God is building a cathedral in my heart. He is most interested in my heart. It is where His Son lives. His work is unusual, unique, and He can be counted on to work on my heart.
2. I get as much of Jesus as I really want. My prayers reveal my desires. How deeply do I want to know Christ? When I pray to see God’s glory, or when I pray to become more like Christ, then God always answers those prayers. They are in accordance to His perfect will. He will tell me, reveal to me His glory. He will disclose Himself to me when I follow hard after Him. So , I must keep praying for the disclosure of God to me.
3. I learn as much of the Bible as I really want. I either desire to know the truth or I don’t want to know the truth found in God’s Word. Do I really believe that God’s Word holds the Truth for my life? How much do I seek to read and study His Word? Am I hungry for it? Am I seeking it? God will teach me if I want Him to. I can complain if I want, that God is not working on my behalf, but if I do that, it reveals that I have done little to find His truth or Him. I must keep following hard after His Word. I must ask Him for a fresh revelation regularly.
4. God will use my life story as it lines up with His Word and who He is. He never wastes suffering, and neither should I. When I walk through suffering, it will benefit others as well as me. It builds my faith. It refines my faith. One day my faith will be perfected.
5. God is not free to teach the proud, because they already know it. He teaches the humble, the poor in spirit His way and His Word. I am the worse of the worst of being guilty of spiritual pride. God is making me more and more sensitive to this. I am at the point now where when I am overdosed on hearing spiritual pride, I want to simply vomit. I am so sick of hearing it from some around me. We, in the church, are often unaware of why the lost don’t want to come near our church or our people, me included. Often, we make them sick to be in our presence. Oh God, forgive me, forgive us. I really don’t know what I am doing when I brag about the good things I do or the Word that I obey, or when I share a story and be sure to add the parts that make me look so good. I get so full of myself, and start bragging. I get carried away with a love for the sound of my own voice.
6. God hears my prayers, all of them, and especially when I pray His Words back to Him. I tend to forget this. His answers come in the following days and years. Often there is a gap between the prayer and the answer, but often the answer is not recognized as the answer.
7. God has a plan and a purpose for me. He is not bringing isolated incidences or trials into my life. He will connect them, much like dot to dot pictures, at some point in my life, and has recently shown me more connection between the dots.
8. God desires to use my story to minister to the kingdom. I am able to find my place, my spot for ministry when I see the bigger picture. God has known it all along. Most often I can’t see, because often I've been blinded by my trials for awhile. In addition, it is possible to make my trial or my suffering an idol. Any time I begin to worship an idol of any kind I turn away from worshipping the One True God.
9. I need to bless others by sharing how God has built my faith. People need to hear how God has refined my faith. It blesses others, as well as me, when I review and share these things.
10. God has sent me gifts regularly as I have walked with Him through His disclosure to me, fresh revelations, suffering, trials, and blessings. These gifts have not all looked attractive. Many were downright ugly, but ahh those were the very best gifts of all. As Psalms 25:10-11 says, “All the paths of the Lord are loving kindness and truth to those who keep His covenant and His testimonies.”
It has been a 'Wild God Chase" these past 35 years as I have been on the journey of my life with Jesus Christ. I met him on May 18, 1975, and I have never been the same. His Spirit took up residence in my heart and began to build a cathedral in my heart for Him. My life changed forever. My legacy changed from that day on and my prayer is that my children and my children's children and their children and those that follow for 1000 generations will come to know, experience and honor the One True God. If they will do that, then they too will find themselves on a 'Wild God Chase' of a lifetime. But if they choose to follow after the false gods (idols) of this world, then they will be judged according to God and His Word, and will inherit a legacy of that choice for the next 4 generations. I pray they will all choose the way of Christ as their choice.
Blessed be the Name of the Lord for He alone is worthy of our praise and worthy of any glory in this life. He alone will be worthy to do the work of the Father as proclaimed in Revelation 5 in eternity. Praise to you alone, Lord God, My Heavenly Father, My Savior Jesus Christ, and The Holy Spirit all three in One! For YOU ARE WORTHY!
Amen and Amen!
Thursday, September 10, 2009
GOD SHOWED UP TODAY!
Today was the first day of my fall Bible study. Actually last night was. Well . . . it’s like this. I am attending the Wednesday night Daniel Bible Study (Beth Moore’s), but leading the Thursday morning Daniel Bible Study. What can I say? I need everything I can get. Daniel is not an easy book to understand. An added blessing is that my sweet husband wants to study Daniel along with me this fall. What more could a woman want?
This morning, all chaos broke out the minute I stepped into the room and turned on the lights. The room was not ready due to a mix up, but janitorial staff scurried to do whatever was needed. There was trash on the floor and the floor needed vacuuming, and also the tables and chairs had not been arranged. All of this usually takes some time and I had maybe 30 minutes. I had not planned on doing any of this type work and all the blood was in my brain, not in my ability to bend over. I was stunned, but I shouldn’t have been. For one thing, I had not slept well last night, so I was physically tired. Picking up trash and vacuuming were not on my list of desired tasks for the morning. Since this is the first group I’ve led at our semi-new church, I wasn’t sure what was required of me. I’m standing there thinking perhaps I should pick up the trash and vacuum? The person who had previously made the plans for our class told me all was taken care of for the room. Dumb me. I know to double check every detail that is remotely important. I’ve just been so laid back about the class and this fall, thinking all would fall in place. I found out later that the rain storm last night caused that clean put together room all ready for our Bible Study to be used for a group at the last minute.
A dear sweet lady came into the room at that very moment and informed me that she had come there only to pray over me, which she did. I sure am glad she ONLY came to pray. What an important ministry! She offered to stay and help with the registration, which I welcomed, since the lady who was assisting me with that task was held up in another meeting.
As I was busy arranging my notes, announcements, agenda, etc. on the podium, there was a commotion at the registration table. It seems one person had sort of fallen into the room and into the praying lady’s arms. God knows exactly what is needed at any given minute. Later I found out that she – the praying lady had actually already met the new lady a few weeks ago. Then another lady volunteered to be a friend and sit with the new lady who was sobbing and shaking at this point. God just sort of dropped this new lady in our midst today.
This has happened often in the past as I’ve been in different Bible studies through the years. God just drops someone out of no where with a tremendous life need into the group’s midst. It’s as if God wants to give us a live example of someone to love, pray for, and minister to extra special. And, of course, it is always so inspiring and encouraging to watch God work in such a dramatic way. This whole episode caused an immediate bond in our group. The other ladies all rushed to the new lady, and prayed. Almost like all the air was sucked into that one spot in the room. It was sort of like what happens when a magnet is dropped into the midst of metal objects. You know. An immediate zap. Boom.
Now we all come to this place with many needs, deep needs. Don’t get me wrong. Most often we all end up sharing them too. But to be able to watch God heal another life in such a dramatic way is something no one else could orchestrate but God.
The Daniel Bible Study is going to be an exciting one. I heard new information on the DVD today that I never heard last night. To sum up today’s lesson: Babylon is representative of the flesh, and of this worldly culture, of self will. Babylon teaches us that life is ‘all about me’. We know that life is ‘not about me’, but rather ‘all about God’. Everything this world teaches us is to gratify our fleshly desires. God teaches us to deny our fleshly desires. We need to wean ourselves off of anything that takes us away from our relationship with God or our ministry for Him. We need to get the Babylon out of our homes and lives. Oh my, that would be quite a list. There’s a lot of work to be done.
I honestly don’t know where I would be if I had not be involved with in depth Bible studies for 35 years. I always look forward to a new study with the opportunity to learn along with and from the lives of a new group of women.
We had a great group of women this morning. God showed up. All fell into place. God is at work in our midst. I sure am glad that He is in charge. I’m also glad that I didn’t spend any precious time fretting or having a panic attack over anything. Trusting Him really is the only way to live. Cleaving to Him and His Word really does work. Amen.
“Every part of Scripture is God-breathed and useful one way or another—showing us truth, exposing our rebellion, correcting our mistakes, training us to live God’s way. Through the Word we are put together and shaped up for the tasks God has for us.” II Timothy 3:16-17, The Message Bible
This morning, all chaos broke out the minute I stepped into the room and turned on the lights. The room was not ready due to a mix up, but janitorial staff scurried to do whatever was needed. There was trash on the floor and the floor needed vacuuming, and also the tables and chairs had not been arranged. All of this usually takes some time and I had maybe 30 minutes. I had not planned on doing any of this type work and all the blood was in my brain, not in my ability to bend over. I was stunned, but I shouldn’t have been. For one thing, I had not slept well last night, so I was physically tired. Picking up trash and vacuuming were not on my list of desired tasks for the morning. Since this is the first group I’ve led at our semi-new church, I wasn’t sure what was required of me. I’m standing there thinking perhaps I should pick up the trash and vacuum? The person who had previously made the plans for our class told me all was taken care of for the room. Dumb me. I know to double check every detail that is remotely important. I’ve just been so laid back about the class and this fall, thinking all would fall in place. I found out later that the rain storm last night caused that clean put together room all ready for our Bible Study to be used for a group at the last minute.
A dear sweet lady came into the room at that very moment and informed me that she had come there only to pray over me, which she did. I sure am glad she ONLY came to pray. What an important ministry! She offered to stay and help with the registration, which I welcomed, since the lady who was assisting me with that task was held up in another meeting.
As I was busy arranging my notes, announcements, agenda, etc. on the podium, there was a commotion at the registration table. It seems one person had sort of fallen into the room and into the praying lady’s arms. God knows exactly what is needed at any given minute. Later I found out that she – the praying lady had actually already met the new lady a few weeks ago. Then another lady volunteered to be a friend and sit with the new lady who was sobbing and shaking at this point. God just sort of dropped this new lady in our midst today.
This has happened often in the past as I’ve been in different Bible studies through the years. God just drops someone out of no where with a tremendous life need into the group’s midst. It’s as if God wants to give us a live example of someone to love, pray for, and minister to extra special. And, of course, it is always so inspiring and encouraging to watch God work in such a dramatic way. This whole episode caused an immediate bond in our group. The other ladies all rushed to the new lady, and prayed. Almost like all the air was sucked into that one spot in the room. It was sort of like what happens when a magnet is dropped into the midst of metal objects. You know. An immediate zap. Boom.
Now we all come to this place with many needs, deep needs. Don’t get me wrong. Most often we all end up sharing them too. But to be able to watch God heal another life in such a dramatic way is something no one else could orchestrate but God.
The Daniel Bible Study is going to be an exciting one. I heard new information on the DVD today that I never heard last night. To sum up today’s lesson: Babylon is representative of the flesh, and of this worldly culture, of self will. Babylon teaches us that life is ‘all about me’. We know that life is ‘not about me’, but rather ‘all about God’. Everything this world teaches us is to gratify our fleshly desires. God teaches us to deny our fleshly desires. We need to wean ourselves off of anything that takes us away from our relationship with God or our ministry for Him. We need to get the Babylon out of our homes and lives. Oh my, that would be quite a list. There’s a lot of work to be done.
I honestly don’t know where I would be if I had not be involved with in depth Bible studies for 35 years. I always look forward to a new study with the opportunity to learn along with and from the lives of a new group of women.
We had a great group of women this morning. God showed up. All fell into place. God is at work in our midst. I sure am glad that He is in charge. I’m also glad that I didn’t spend any precious time fretting or having a panic attack over anything. Trusting Him really is the only way to live. Cleaving to Him and His Word really does work. Amen.
“Every part of Scripture is God-breathed and useful one way or another—showing us truth, exposing our rebellion, correcting our mistakes, training us to live God’s way. Through the Word we are put together and shaped up for the tasks God has for us.” II Timothy 3:16-17, The Message Bible
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Blogging, Whining and Dessert Bars
Tonight, I feel disconnected, perhaps somewhat without purpose. I have the desire to write, yes write. I want to be like Julie Powell who created The Julie/Julia Project , and wrote a blog about it. She then wrote the book, "Julie & Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment “. It’s the latest book about Julia Childs. Julie is the writer who decided to cook each of the recipes in Julia Child’s cookbook, “Mastering the Art of French Cooking”, thus the project began – one meal at a time. It was a year long project – 365 days of cooking. The blog became a book. The book became a movie. That movie opened this weekend at theaters across the nation. Julie Powell is busy as a hamster on a wheel (according to Julie) with book signings, and appearances across the country.
My husband and I were given free passes to attend a private showing of the movie, "Julie & Julia" on Monday night of this week. I love, love, love the movie. I want to read the book, which the movie was based on. Julia (Childs), with Alex Prud’homme wrote a book, “My Life in France”, and I’d like to read it as well. I highly recommend the movie, "Julie & Julia". It’s not exactly a chick flick, and of course, there are some parts of the movie that are appropriate for adults only.
What to write about? In a blog I mean. I am always writing about something, but not everything goes into a blog. I need a higher purpose . . . like Julie had. I need to embark on a grand journey of some experiment or something. Any ideas out there?
We met three couples for a cheap dinner tonight. One of them brought homemade dessert bars. Yum. They were delicious. I am not happy with myself however. I started out so good, not planning to eat any. Then I weakened. I was freezing in that air conditioned place and wanted some coffee. Well, we all know that black coffee calls out for something sweet. So I ate, and ate, not one, but two large dessert bars. I could hardly enjoy them for thinking of how much walking I would need to do to metabolize them. I’ll be walking for the next week to get rid of that dessert tonight. What the heck was I thinking?
That is the whole problem. I WAS NOT THINKING! If I had stopped to think, then I would not have touched my fingers to that evil stuff, and would not have put it in my mouth. Sugar. It was full of sugar, and chocolate and peanut butter, and oatmeal and butter. All the things I do not need in combination with each other. In a word, they were fabulous!
Whine. Whine. Whine. That’s all I do, whine about walking, whine about eating the wrong thing, whine about not losing the fat that wants to stick to my body like a wet swimsuit. You do know that the fat on MY body is not really mine, don't you? It is basically some disorder that has attacked my bodily system – some dysfunction of a mysterious nature – yes, that's right - some mysterious layer that has attacked me by crawling onto my body and refusing to leave. The problem is that this has been a 28 year ordeal – since my youngest child was born. It must have something to do with having a baby in your 30’s, which we all know means that my hormones slowed down and thus my metabolism went berserk. That 28 year old is no longer a child. He is a full grown man, now a doctor learning to be a surgeon. To make matters worse, he refuses my suggestions that he become a plastic surgeon so he can repair all the damage that he caused. ;-)
So, it’s settled then. My metabolism is the enemy. Like I said, I’ll be walking for some time just to take care of those dessert bars. After that is taken care of . . . well then I will tackle that layer of material that took up residence on my body long ago.
Any ideas for my blog project? Please don't suggest cooking, and for heaven's sake not a word about cleaning house.
"Though I have many things to write to you, I do not want to do so with paper and ink." (I'd rather blog!) II John 12 NASB
My husband and I were given free passes to attend a private showing of the movie, "Julie & Julia" on Monday night of this week. I love, love, love the movie. I want to read the book, which the movie was based on. Julia (Childs), with Alex Prud’homme wrote a book, “My Life in France”, and I’d like to read it as well. I highly recommend the movie, "Julie & Julia". It’s not exactly a chick flick, and of course, there are some parts of the movie that are appropriate for adults only.
What to write about? In a blog I mean. I am always writing about something, but not everything goes into a blog. I need a higher purpose . . . like Julie had. I need to embark on a grand journey of some experiment or something. Any ideas out there?
We met three couples for a cheap dinner tonight. One of them brought homemade dessert bars. Yum. They were delicious. I am not happy with myself however. I started out so good, not planning to eat any. Then I weakened. I was freezing in that air conditioned place and wanted some coffee. Well, we all know that black coffee calls out for something sweet. So I ate, and ate, not one, but two large dessert bars. I could hardly enjoy them for thinking of how much walking I would need to do to metabolize them. I’ll be walking for the next week to get rid of that dessert tonight. What the heck was I thinking?
That is the whole problem. I WAS NOT THINKING! If I had stopped to think, then I would not have touched my fingers to that evil stuff, and would not have put it in my mouth. Sugar. It was full of sugar, and chocolate and peanut butter, and oatmeal and butter. All the things I do not need in combination with each other. In a word, they were fabulous!
Whine. Whine. Whine. That’s all I do, whine about walking, whine about eating the wrong thing, whine about not losing the fat that wants to stick to my body like a wet swimsuit. You do know that the fat on MY body is not really mine, don't you? It is basically some disorder that has attacked my bodily system – some dysfunction of a mysterious nature – yes, that's right - some mysterious layer that has attacked me by crawling onto my body and refusing to leave. The problem is that this has been a 28 year ordeal – since my youngest child was born. It must have something to do with having a baby in your 30’s, which we all know means that my hormones slowed down and thus my metabolism went berserk. That 28 year old is no longer a child. He is a full grown man, now a doctor learning to be a surgeon. To make matters worse, he refuses my suggestions that he become a plastic surgeon so he can repair all the damage that he caused. ;-)
So, it’s settled then. My metabolism is the enemy. Like I said, I’ll be walking for some time just to take care of those dessert bars. After that is taken care of . . . well then I will tackle that layer of material that took up residence on my body long ago.
Any ideas for my blog project? Please don't suggest cooking, and for heaven's sake not a word about cleaning house.
"Though I have many things to write to you, I do not want to do so with paper and ink." (I'd rather blog!) II John 12 NASB
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Mercy, Grace or What???
When good things happen to change our bad circumstances, is it grace? Is it mercy? Or is it because of being faithful to God? What if we aren't faithful?
Mercy is God’s favor to us in spite of our unfaithfulness.
Grace is God giving us the ability to walk through unfavorable circumstances.
Faithfulness to God is my obedience to praise Him, cry out to Him, and seek Him in all times, both in times of good circumstance and times of bad circumstance. Does being faithful to God mean that I must be perfect? Does it mean that I must do everything right?
A close friend of mine recently mentioned in an e-mail that God was blessing my faithfulness to God. We all use terms like this, and of course, mean the best. However, I had already been thinking about the fact that I am not perfectly faithful, so He could not be blessing me because of MY faithfulness.
Another thought roaming around in my head lately is that God does not give us what we deserve. That’s a wonderful thought. Also often, we do not deserve some of what comes to us in life. That’s why it’s called life. Real life is learning to live out what we believe when bad things happen to us (working out our salvation). God works on a totally different level. He operates by mercy and grace. His mercy is poured out on us, thus He provides His grace to walk through the minefields of life. That is IF we have given our life to Him. If, we have cried out to Him for His salvation. Once we’ve done that, then He continues to save us regularly from the ravages of life. It must be that God is blessing because He is faithful, and I am simply receiving His mercy and grace.
Are you confused? Well . . . ok, then just praise Him for His blessing today. Don’t worry about if it is mercy, grace or faithfulness. Just simply praise Him. Continue to cry out to Him. Continue to walk with Him daily, regardless of what circumstances you are walking through.
John Piper says in his book, Future Grace, “The safest place in the universe is with our arms around the neck of God. And the most dangerous place is any path where we flee from His presence.”
He will bless us as we come to Him for help. He says that we are to come to Him as little children. Isaiah 30:19 says, “He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry, when He hears it, He will answer you.”
Several years ago my husband was on a prayer walk, which is a regular part of his life. He was praying, asking God to show him God’s heart. A still small voice said, “I just did.” This is the scene that had just taken place:
A young couple and their son were walking a trail and coming toward my
husband. The son ran ahead and ran down toward the creek. A little voice
whimpered, “Dad, I’m going to need your help on this one.”
The dad said, “Ok, son. I’ll be right there.”
Isn’t this exactly what God wants from us? He wants us to call out to Him in need. He wants to help us.
Calling out to Him. Praising Him.
Jesus said, “Let the children alone and do not hinder them from coming to me, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14 NASB
Monday, June 29, 2009
Death: Coming to Grip with It!
Most of the last four weeks were spent in the midst of death of one sort or other. I’m trying to come to grip with that. I want to learn all that I need to from it. It seems that as a child, I spent much too much time at funeral homes through the years. I often felt guilty that I could not cry. My mom's 12 brothers, sisters, as well as their spouses (25 counting my dad) passed away before her, as well as many cousins, so much time was spent at one particular funeral home. I remember one Christmas that two cars of relatives were killed, thus Christmas Eve, Christmas and the day after were spent at the funeral home. The only highlight for a kid was the food and the vast array of sweets in the basement kitchen. Nobody watched nor cared how much you ate or how many times you went downstairs to get a cookie or a Coke. I hadn't realized what an impact that funeral home had on my life until a few weeks ago. We were planning my mom's funeral and making every arrangment. When we entered the funeral home, it was dejavue, little had changed - same rooms, same bathrooms, same people who own it, only older. I even recalled their names immediately. When I said I felt like I had grown up at their place, they nodded and smiled.
Life begins at conception. That is a firm conviction for me.
Death begins at birth. This I am just beginning to understand. Growth is taking place at an amazing pace. Death is slowly taking its place, but unseen at this point.
When you arrive in your twenties, you begin to see some minor deterioration in your body’s energy.
When you arrive in your thirties, you begin to see a small wrinkle or two, and realize that your energy is much less than in years past.
When you arrive in your forties, you are sure that your body has changed. You have gained some weight or at least, you’ve really struggled to keep it the same. You see more small wrinkles, and begin to have backaches, etc. when you’ve spent the day working in the yard. You are not quite so excited to work out at the gym, due to the pain that follows.
When you arrive in your fifties, your backache becomes a frequent companion. You begin to notice that you have more than a couple of wrinkles and it seems that every part of your body has rearranged itself. It takes you longer to get up out of the chair. You begin to feel like a grandparent, whether you are one or not.
When you arrive in your sixies, I don't know. This is the end of my personal experience. I shall soon find out the rest of the story.
This past month has been spent with my mom in the nursing home. My former visits were often enough to check on her, but not lengthy enough to be educated about what goes on there. She always seemed happy enough and I knew I was unable to care for her in her physical condition. Her mental and emotional state in the past were often incoherent and angry, thus I knew this would effect a tremendous drain, which prohibited me visiting her too often.
These past weeks following a major stroke have proved to make some changes in her for the better as well as the worse. She is overall weaker; however there is a peace and pleasantness that surrounds her. Only a few times was I aware of any anger and those were times she needed to express herself with strength. I was very aware that I needed to listen to her and try to obtain whatever it was she was requesting. She is still very much aware of her own body and life and able to communicate her needs. We shared many touching moments. I love my mom. She loves me. I can say that she has always showed up to be my mother every day – never abandoning the role. Sometimes, when I was younger, perhaps I didn’t appreciate her as I should have, but nevertheless, she has always cared and acted on my behalf. I am so grateful for that.
Back to the subject of death, which would be impossible to ignore if you are spending days on end at a nursing home. My cousin, Ronnie, who was 64 years old passed away almost two weeks ago. We attended his funeral, which was unexpected. My cousin, Margie, is a resident at the nursing home and has less than six months to live. She has already been assigned to hospice, and has much difficulty breathing. Some days I was unable to visit her due to her serious respiratory status. Death from these two, who are too young for that to be the subject.
As I observed all of the residents at the nursing home, I realized they are all preparing for death. It is only a matter of time. This is a huge waiting room for each of them and their time to move out of this world and into the next. Some are happy people and some are not. Some are fun to be with and some are not.
One of the most fun people lives across the hall from my mom and for that I am thankful. She checks on my mom several times a day. Her name is Beulah, but I call her Boo Boo. She has adopted Loren and me as her own, as she has no children. I even gave her a manicure Saturday afternoon.
She is a joy to be around – always telling us that she has more fun than a barrel of monkeys and she is telling the absolute truth. Two weeks ago, Hippy Day at the nursing home, a professional singer was there in concert. Boo Boo and one of the nurses danced until they could stand no longer. Boo Boo even convinced Loren to dance with her. The singer handed out a morocco to the entire group, all in wheelchairs. (Some can walk small distances, but are supposed to use the wheelchair most of the time to prevent falls.) The morocco was to encourage them to be active and get a little exercise. My mom even got in on the action by shaking one in each hand. Mom was smiling and having a good time. We took pictures of the event, and you can view them at http://missannajune2009.shutterfly.com/
Saturday, after my mom fell or slid out of her new bed, the nurse and aide put her in the wheelchair. They wheeled her into the hall where I was giving Boo Boo a manicure. After a few minutes, my mom said, “Well . . . at least I got a little nap.” We all laughed, because after all, falling out of the bed onto a hard floor couldn’t have been pleasant, but my mom seemed so pleasant and happy. These are not the traits I would have used years ago or even months ago to describe my mom.
Back to Saturday, the scene was surreal. I was seated in the hall with mom’s rolling bed tray placed between Boo Boo and me, as I manicured her nails a lovely shade of red. Miss Dorothy, another of mom’s neighbors, in her wheelchair at the other end of the hall, watched us from a distance. Miss Dorothy was dressed in a nice dress with her purse sitting squarely in her lap and all ready for dinner, which was a full hour away. I waved to Miss Dorothy and she finally saw me and waved back. Slowly but surely, Miss Dorothy traveled down the hall to our location. There we were all having a fun time. My mom, Boo Boo, and Miss Dorothy all surrounding me and we were all laughing. I so wished for my camera at that moment. It was a memory for the picture books. Three older ladies and me just relating and enjoying every minute of it.
Miss Dorothy held her hands closely and said, “My nails are such a mess.” I told Miss Dorothy that I will give her a manicure the next time I come. She smiles and says, “thank you”. Now Miss Dorothy is a tiny lady with a tiny personality, very quite and the perfect lady. Miss Dorothy always wears dresses and looks like she is going out for an event, rather than simply eating dinner in her own dining hall. I asked Miss Dorothy what color she would want, pink or red. I was sure it would be pink. Wrong. She loves red nails, so red it will be when I return at a later date.
I am impressed with the nursing home dining room. The nursing home uses beautiful fresh linens on the tables with cloth napkins for each meal. They use dinnerware and nice glass wear, rather than paper. The aides are attentive to what is being eaten or often, what is not being eaten. As they observe my mom, often they will go off to the kitchen to request an option, a stuffed potato, soup or simply a milkshake.
I gave my mom a manicure Saturday morning. This was the third one that I’ve given her this month. Loren always helps me as he holds one of mom’s hands while I work with the other one. I had to redo one nail about five times due to her moving it and messing the polish up. It takes time and patience to give her a manicure. I love doing this for my mom. She loves pink and her nails are a lovely shade of pale pink. I think the nurses and aides got a kick out of me giving my mom a real pedicure, complete with pink toes. My mom has her hair done each week. Sometimes, she stays in her room and misses that opportunity. I made a visit to the onsite beauty salon and requested that they try to take care of my mom’s hair each week, leaving with the instruction that if she doesn’t feel like it that day, then to please check the following day to do her hair. It makes the whole place happier somehow. Just caring for people and taking care of them, that makes others happier. Mom is very aware of the condition of her hair and nails. I want her to look lovely each and every day. As I watch my mom’s body slowly deteriorate and shrink I realize that the end is not that far away. Mom eats little and is nearly all bone. My heart desires to be there every day taking care of her. My mind knows that I cannot. Thus grieving the loss of my mom has begun. It seems another wall has come down in my heart. I cry for no apparent reason, sometimes in the middle of eating a meal. Perhaps I am grieving the years lost living with a mom with no way for her mind and emotions to be regulated. Perhaps I am simply beginning to grieve her leaving me behind.
In the midst of my education on death and dying, here I was seated in the middle of three delightful elderly ladies, all in their late eighties to early nineties. I was having the time of my life, just enjoying their company and listening . . . listening for their wisdom.
In conclusion of spending nearly four weeks in a nursing home, I realize that the future does not depend on our aging body and the condition of it, for it will be resurrected and glorified. I have decided that it is true what my husband says. “We are all going to die some day. It’s just a matter of when and how. And, in the long run . . . we all must die in preparation for real life.” In preparation for that day, it makes me want to love more, give more, relate more, bless God and others more, and fill my days with life and living. Death will come soon enough, but today is for living. This is the cycle of life. Dust to dust. We are perpetually being prepared for the next world, our life with God that will last for eternity. The real story is not here now, but to come later. We are simply in training for the future. Death is not something to be feared. It is simply the vehicle that transports us to God and the future.
"In the resurrection scheme of things, this has to happen: everything perishable taken off the shelves and replaced by the imperishable, this mortal replaced by the immortal. So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: "Death is swallowed up in victory." I Corinthians 15:53-54 New Living Translation
Life begins at conception. That is a firm conviction for me.
Death begins at birth. This I am just beginning to understand. Growth is taking place at an amazing pace. Death is slowly taking its place, but unseen at this point.
When you arrive in your twenties, you begin to see some minor deterioration in your body’s energy.
When you arrive in your thirties, you begin to see a small wrinkle or two, and realize that your energy is much less than in years past.
When you arrive in your forties, you are sure that your body has changed. You have gained some weight or at least, you’ve really struggled to keep it the same. You see more small wrinkles, and begin to have backaches, etc. when you’ve spent the day working in the yard. You are not quite so excited to work out at the gym, due to the pain that follows.
When you arrive in your fifties, your backache becomes a frequent companion. You begin to notice that you have more than a couple of wrinkles and it seems that every part of your body has rearranged itself. It takes you longer to get up out of the chair. You begin to feel like a grandparent, whether you are one or not.
When you arrive in your sixies, I don't know. This is the end of my personal experience. I shall soon find out the rest of the story.
This past month has been spent with my mom in the nursing home. My former visits were often enough to check on her, but not lengthy enough to be educated about what goes on there. She always seemed happy enough and I knew I was unable to care for her in her physical condition. Her mental and emotional state in the past were often incoherent and angry, thus I knew this would effect a tremendous drain, which prohibited me visiting her too often.
These past weeks following a major stroke have proved to make some changes in her for the better as well as the worse. She is overall weaker; however there is a peace and pleasantness that surrounds her. Only a few times was I aware of any anger and those were times she needed to express herself with strength. I was very aware that I needed to listen to her and try to obtain whatever it was she was requesting. She is still very much aware of her own body and life and able to communicate her needs. We shared many touching moments. I love my mom. She loves me. I can say that she has always showed up to be my mother every day – never abandoning the role. Sometimes, when I was younger, perhaps I didn’t appreciate her as I should have, but nevertheless, she has always cared and acted on my behalf. I am so grateful for that.
Back to the subject of death, which would be impossible to ignore if you are spending days on end at a nursing home. My cousin, Ronnie, who was 64 years old passed away almost two weeks ago. We attended his funeral, which was unexpected. My cousin, Margie, is a resident at the nursing home and has less than six months to live. She has already been assigned to hospice, and has much difficulty breathing. Some days I was unable to visit her due to her serious respiratory status. Death from these two, who are too young for that to be the subject.
As I observed all of the residents at the nursing home, I realized they are all preparing for death. It is only a matter of time. This is a huge waiting room for each of them and their time to move out of this world and into the next. Some are happy people and some are not. Some are fun to be with and some are not.
One of the most fun people lives across the hall from my mom and for that I am thankful. She checks on my mom several times a day. Her name is Beulah, but I call her Boo Boo. She has adopted Loren and me as her own, as she has no children. I even gave her a manicure Saturday afternoon.
She is a joy to be around – always telling us that she has more fun than a barrel of monkeys and she is telling the absolute truth. Two weeks ago, Hippy Day at the nursing home, a professional singer was there in concert. Boo Boo and one of the nurses danced until they could stand no longer. Boo Boo even convinced Loren to dance with her. The singer handed out a morocco to the entire group, all in wheelchairs. (Some can walk small distances, but are supposed to use the wheelchair most of the time to prevent falls.) The morocco was to encourage them to be active and get a little exercise. My mom even got in on the action by shaking one in each hand. Mom was smiling and having a good time. We took pictures of the event, and you can view them at http://missannajune2009.shutterfly.com/
Saturday, after my mom fell or slid out of her new bed, the nurse and aide put her in the wheelchair. They wheeled her into the hall where I was giving Boo Boo a manicure. After a few minutes, my mom said, “Well . . . at least I got a little nap.” We all laughed, because after all, falling out of the bed onto a hard floor couldn’t have been pleasant, but my mom seemed so pleasant and happy. These are not the traits I would have used years ago or even months ago to describe my mom.
Back to Saturday, the scene was surreal. I was seated in the hall with mom’s rolling bed tray placed between Boo Boo and me, as I manicured her nails a lovely shade of red. Miss Dorothy, another of mom’s neighbors, in her wheelchair at the other end of the hall, watched us from a distance. Miss Dorothy was dressed in a nice dress with her purse sitting squarely in her lap and all ready for dinner, which was a full hour away. I waved to Miss Dorothy and she finally saw me and waved back. Slowly but surely, Miss Dorothy traveled down the hall to our location. There we were all having a fun time. My mom, Boo Boo, and Miss Dorothy all surrounding me and we were all laughing. I so wished for my camera at that moment. It was a memory for the picture books. Three older ladies and me just relating and enjoying every minute of it.
Miss Dorothy held her hands closely and said, “My nails are such a mess.” I told Miss Dorothy that I will give her a manicure the next time I come. She smiles and says, “thank you”. Now Miss Dorothy is a tiny lady with a tiny personality, very quite and the perfect lady. Miss Dorothy always wears dresses and looks like she is going out for an event, rather than simply eating dinner in her own dining hall. I asked Miss Dorothy what color she would want, pink or red. I was sure it would be pink. Wrong. She loves red nails, so red it will be when I return at a later date.
I am impressed with the nursing home dining room. The nursing home uses beautiful fresh linens on the tables with cloth napkins for each meal. They use dinnerware and nice glass wear, rather than paper. The aides are attentive to what is being eaten or often, what is not being eaten. As they observe my mom, often they will go off to the kitchen to request an option, a stuffed potato, soup or simply a milkshake.
I gave my mom a manicure Saturday morning. This was the third one that I’ve given her this month. Loren always helps me as he holds one of mom’s hands while I work with the other one. I had to redo one nail about five times due to her moving it and messing the polish up. It takes time and patience to give her a manicure. I love doing this for my mom. She loves pink and her nails are a lovely shade of pale pink. I think the nurses and aides got a kick out of me giving my mom a real pedicure, complete with pink toes. My mom has her hair done each week. Sometimes, she stays in her room and misses that opportunity. I made a visit to the onsite beauty salon and requested that they try to take care of my mom’s hair each week, leaving with the instruction that if she doesn’t feel like it that day, then to please check the following day to do her hair. It makes the whole place happier somehow. Just caring for people and taking care of them, that makes others happier. Mom is very aware of the condition of her hair and nails. I want her to look lovely each and every day. As I watch my mom’s body slowly deteriorate and shrink I realize that the end is not that far away. Mom eats little and is nearly all bone. My heart desires to be there every day taking care of her. My mind knows that I cannot. Thus grieving the loss of my mom has begun. It seems another wall has come down in my heart. I cry for no apparent reason, sometimes in the middle of eating a meal. Perhaps I am grieving the years lost living with a mom with no way for her mind and emotions to be regulated. Perhaps I am simply beginning to grieve her leaving me behind.
In the midst of my education on death and dying, here I was seated in the middle of three delightful elderly ladies, all in their late eighties to early nineties. I was having the time of my life, just enjoying their company and listening . . . listening for their wisdom.
In conclusion of spending nearly four weeks in a nursing home, I realize that the future does not depend on our aging body and the condition of it, for it will be resurrected and glorified. I have decided that it is true what my husband says. “We are all going to die some day. It’s just a matter of when and how. And, in the long run . . . we all must die in preparation for real life.” In preparation for that day, it makes me want to love more, give more, relate more, bless God and others more, and fill my days with life and living. Death will come soon enough, but today is for living. This is the cycle of life. Dust to dust. We are perpetually being prepared for the next world, our life with God that will last for eternity. The real story is not here now, but to come later. We are simply in training for the future. Death is not something to be feared. It is simply the vehicle that transports us to God and the future.
"In the resurrection scheme of things, this has to happen: everything perishable taken off the shelves and replaced by the imperishable, this mortal replaced by the immortal. So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: "Death is swallowed up in victory." I Corinthians 15:53-54 New Living Translation
Monday, June 22, 2009
Legacy of a Father
These last two weeks plus have afforded me the opportunity to reflect on and grieve my father’s passing, which occurred almost 14 years ago. At that time our family was living in Russia, and after I returned to Russia following my father’s funeral, there was no time for grieving. I was thrown full throttle into trauma of a new sort. My former husband had abandoned my son and me in that foreign communist country. My two grown daughters were living in the states, the oldest one married with two babies and the other one in her first year of teaching high school English and History.
While spending time at the nursing home with my mom during recent days, I was encouraged by the memory of two men there. The first man was living at the nursing home, and one morning I encountered his daughter in the parking lot. I knew she was very familiar, but I couldn’t remember who she was. When I asked her name, my memory was jolted. Actually I had spent much time playing with her at the swimming pool as a kid. Her dad had owned a furniture and appliance store. When I made a visit to his room, he told of the time my dad made a purchase and paid the bill with an old cigar box full of silver dollars. His family is still in possession of this precious payment – a reminder of a man who managed his business with integrity, honesty, and much forethought – my dad.
One day while eating lunch with my mom in the nursing home dining room, I noticed a couple who were familiar, but again I couldn’t quite bring up the name. As I inquired, I realized I had attended high school with their son. This man comes to the nursing home each and every day to feed his wife her lunch as she is unable to take care of herself. When I told him who my dad was, his response was, “They don’t make men like your dad anymore! He was a fine man of integrity.”
While attending to my mom during these weeks, we made all of the final arrangements concerning the services and I also selected the flowers. While ordering the flowers at a new shop in a small town nearby, the lady seemed familiar to me. After some discussion of how we would know each other, she realized who my father was. Then she told me a story. About 35 years ago, my dad retired from a company he had worked with for about 30 years. He started his own business at this point and began to purchase materials from a local business. A young married lady about 30 years old, who simply worked at this business, assisted my dad with his purchases and got to know him pretty well. One day she told my dad that she and her husband had decided to start a new business and that she was worried about making a living from it. My dad told her his business motto, “Do what you say you will do when you say you will do it, and you will never lack for customers.” Her husband arrived and popped in to verify the story and how it has been the motto for all of their businesses. Then their 30 year plus daughter came in and explained how she had heard my dad’s name her whole life and this motto had been taught to her for her whole life. Tell the truth. Have integrity. Be honest. All of these were true of my dad. Imagine how this encouraged my heart. I knew my dad was this type of man. I didn’t know how far reaching his beliefs went. I didn’t realize that they had actually influenced a community. Both the lady who owned the flower shop and I sat there and cried together. She was so happy to meet me and know that I was my dad’s daughter. My husband then told the lady that I truly was my father’s daughter in many ways. I felt so proud of my dad. I am so thankful for the man my dad was and all the good character that he represented consistently throughout his life. I am thankful that his foundation was based on God’s Word.
P.S. I will update you on my mom soon.
While spending time at the nursing home with my mom during recent days, I was encouraged by the memory of two men there. The first man was living at the nursing home, and one morning I encountered his daughter in the parking lot. I knew she was very familiar, but I couldn’t remember who she was. When I asked her name, my memory was jolted. Actually I had spent much time playing with her at the swimming pool as a kid. Her dad had owned a furniture and appliance store. When I made a visit to his room, he told of the time my dad made a purchase and paid the bill with an old cigar box full of silver dollars. His family is still in possession of this precious payment – a reminder of a man who managed his business with integrity, honesty, and much forethought – my dad.
One day while eating lunch with my mom in the nursing home dining room, I noticed a couple who were familiar, but again I couldn’t quite bring up the name. As I inquired, I realized I had attended high school with their son. This man comes to the nursing home each and every day to feed his wife her lunch as she is unable to take care of herself. When I told him who my dad was, his response was, “They don’t make men like your dad anymore! He was a fine man of integrity.”
While attending to my mom during these weeks, we made all of the final arrangements concerning the services and I also selected the flowers. While ordering the flowers at a new shop in a small town nearby, the lady seemed familiar to me. After some discussion of how we would know each other, she realized who my father was. Then she told me a story. About 35 years ago, my dad retired from a company he had worked with for about 30 years. He started his own business at this point and began to purchase materials from a local business. A young married lady about 30 years old, who simply worked at this business, assisted my dad with his purchases and got to know him pretty well. One day she told my dad that she and her husband had decided to start a new business and that she was worried about making a living from it. My dad told her his business motto, “Do what you say you will do when you say you will do it, and you will never lack for customers.” Her husband arrived and popped in to verify the story and how it has been the motto for all of their businesses. Then their 30 year plus daughter came in and explained how she had heard my dad’s name her whole life and this motto had been taught to her for her whole life. Tell the truth. Have integrity. Be honest. All of these were true of my dad. Imagine how this encouraged my heart. I knew my dad was this type of man. I didn’t know how far reaching his beliefs went. I didn’t realize that they had actually influenced a community. Both the lady who owned the flower shop and I sat there and cried together. She was so happy to meet me and know that I was my dad’s daughter. My husband then told the lady that I truly was my father’s daughter in many ways. I felt so proud of my dad. I am so thankful for the man my dad was and all the good character that he represented consistently throughout his life. I am thankful that his foundation was based on God’s Word.
P.S. I will update you on my mom soon.
Friday, June 5, 2009
A Stunning Morning!
Praise the Lord for answered prayer. Thank you for praying! My mom rallied this morning (Friday). She knew who I was when I walked in, and was glad to see me. We laughed. We talked. We had a most blessed time together for about 3 hours. She ate a really good lunch & here's the big news: she fed herself!
She began to lose strength, her face drawing up more and her eyes fading more for several hours, and then she slept sound for 2 hours. When she woke up it was dinner time, and she wasn't interested in eating and seemed to be fading more.
It was obvious to the nurses that the Wednesday TIA event really damaged her system, so this morning they were totally amazed at her abrupt turnaround. But, this evening the damage to her system was obvious.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. It could be her last day or she could linger a while longer . . . . . It could be hours, days or weeks. Only God knows the appointed time of her departure. If she doesn't make it another day or I am not there when she dies, I am content. God gave me 3 glorious hours with her today that HE preserved just for me. He heard my prayer and yours and answered.
She began to lose strength, her face drawing up more and her eyes fading more for several hours, and then she slept sound for 2 hours. When she woke up it was dinner time, and she wasn't interested in eating and seemed to be fading more.
It was obvious to the nurses that the Wednesday TIA event really damaged her system, so this morning they were totally amazed at her abrupt turnaround. But, this evening the damage to her system was obvious.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. It could be her last day or she could linger a while longer . . . . . It could be hours, days or weeks. Only God knows the appointed time of her departure. If she doesn't make it another day or I am not there when she dies, I am content. God gave me 3 glorious hours with her today that HE preserved just for me. He heard my prayer and yours and answered.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
When My Mom Passes On
My mom is 200 miles away in a nursing home bed, where she has lived for a little over four years. She has been waiting . . . ready to move to her eternal home on the other side. Her body had been way too healthy for her age, until her mind began to fade and she became even more unmanageable. Her face is not the face of a 90 year old woman for it’s as smooth as silk with only a slight wrinkle. My husband says I inherited her skin. That fact alone proves that she was here, that she lived on this earth and that she gave birth to a baby named Cherry.
With each visit, she has faded more, moving ever so slowly to the other side. For over a year, she’s not even known who I am. When I go into her room, I introduce myself again, and with a smile on her face she tells me that she has a daughter with the same name. Then she starts listing her thoughts about her daughter, how wonderful, how sweet, what a wonderful baby she was, how everyone wanted to play with her growing up. Then she tells me that she wants us to meet, her daughter and me. When I go to visit, we laugh a lot, mostly because she is talking as if she is already in another world . . . a world of her own making. It’s a world mixed up with particles of her past life as a child, her life as a young adult, and her life with my dad. I most often dread these visits, due to the stress involved. I leave, however, with my self-esteem boosted a couple of notches, and it has prepared me somehow for now.
I’ve known that one day I would get a call of her further decline. I said my goodbyes long ago. I really lost my mom the day after my dad died, 14 years ago. I think the stress caused her personality to abruptly change. I thought it would be okay when she passed on, that I would be okay about all of it. I am okay, but there’s one thing that I really want now. It’s a simple thing. It costs nothing. It requires little. It means a lot to me.
I need to visit again – later today. This could me my last one. She had a stroke yesterday, and was asking for the nurse to hold her hand. I am looking forward to this visit. In fact, I can’t get there fast enough.
You see . . . . . my mom was with me when I was born, so the least, the very least I can do is to be there holding her hand when she passes on to the other side.
Please pray that I can get there in time to hold my mom’s hand when she passes through to the other side.
“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus. For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we, who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep.”
I Thess. 4:13-15 NAS
With each visit, she has faded more, moving ever so slowly to the other side. For over a year, she’s not even known who I am. When I go into her room, I introduce myself again, and with a smile on her face she tells me that she has a daughter with the same name. Then she starts listing her thoughts about her daughter, how wonderful, how sweet, what a wonderful baby she was, how everyone wanted to play with her growing up. Then she tells me that she wants us to meet, her daughter and me. When I go to visit, we laugh a lot, mostly because she is talking as if she is already in another world . . . a world of her own making. It’s a world mixed up with particles of her past life as a child, her life as a young adult, and her life with my dad. I most often dread these visits, due to the stress involved. I leave, however, with my self-esteem boosted a couple of notches, and it has prepared me somehow for now.
I’ve known that one day I would get a call of her further decline. I said my goodbyes long ago. I really lost my mom the day after my dad died, 14 years ago. I think the stress caused her personality to abruptly change. I thought it would be okay when she passed on, that I would be okay about all of it. I am okay, but there’s one thing that I really want now. It’s a simple thing. It costs nothing. It requires little. It means a lot to me.
I need to visit again – later today. This could me my last one. She had a stroke yesterday, and was asking for the nurse to hold her hand. I am looking forward to this visit. In fact, I can’t get there fast enough.
You see . . . . . my mom was with me when I was born, so the least, the very least I can do is to be there holding her hand when she passes on to the other side.
Please pray that I can get there in time to hold my mom’s hand when she passes through to the other side.
“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus. For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we, who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep.”
I Thess. 4:13-15 NAS
Monday, June 1, 2009
Blogitis and Marxism
I have blogitis! What is it? Well . . . it’s a condition that can come over one who wants to write something for a blog, but has writer’s block or worse than that life block. That’s where nothing much is going on.
So, the truth is out. I have it - blogitis. I do hope it leaves soon. Until then, I am practicing how to load a video or how to position a photo exactly where I want it on the page, that sort of stuff. This IS a learning process.
I’ll be back when I have something to share, show or whatever – blog about. In the duration, I have blogitis, thus am asking you for your opinion below:
America’s slide to Marxism:
Read this incredible piece in Sunday's Russian online Pravda newspaper.
http://english.pravda.ru/opinion/columnists/107459-0/
As someone said to me, “How cynical”. That it is, but the sad thing is the basic article is true.
Tell me what do you think? Has America already gone too far into Marxism? Can we recover?
So, the truth is out. I have it - blogitis. I do hope it leaves soon. Until then, I am practicing how to load a video or how to position a photo exactly where I want it on the page, that sort of stuff. This IS a learning process.
I’ll be back when I have something to share, show or whatever – blog about. In the duration, I have blogitis, thus am asking you for your opinion below:
America’s slide to Marxism:
Read this incredible piece in Sunday's Russian online Pravda newspaper.
http://english.pravda.ru/opinion/columnists/107459-0/
As someone said to me, “How cynical”. That it is, but the sad thing is the basic article is true.
Tell me what do you think? Has America already gone too far into Marxism? Can we recover?
Monday, May 25, 2009
Remembering . . . . .
For miles and miles, the crowds of Russian people walked in the same direction on both sides of the highway and country roads, their arms full of flowers and hands carrying bags of food and drink. This is the scene etched in my mind, Memorial Day in Russia, a national holiday of mega proportions. They were traveling (a long bus trip, then walking the rest of the way) to the cemetery to honor the dead by laying flowers on the grave, and by taking time to remember the good qualities of their departed relative. While there they shared food and drink. Well, the living ones partook of the food and drink, and the departed simply were . . . . . well departed. Thus the food and drink set out for them just sat there as a point of remembrance.
I was impressed by the elaborate plots at the cemeteries, fenced in by lovely iron arches and arrow topped borders, all with some sort of fancy bench or seat inside. I was curious about those seats. Why would a seat be necessary? They anticipated many visits and would need rest, since likely they'd stay all day thinking, remembering the person and the past. This was not a time for prayer. They saved their prayers for church, the Russian Orthodox Church, where candles were lit to signify each prayer.
My first impression upon landing at the airport in Saint Petersburg, Russia on that first trip in 1993 was that World War II had just occurred. It soon became apparent that not only was this my visual impression, but also what I would find as reality in the minds of the people. They talked about World War II like it had taken place the month or the week before. How had that war affected the people so deeply? The effects of trauma carried to a new generation, as if inherited in a will.
While living in Russia, I think I wore my interpreters out asking question upon question in order to gain a deeper understanding of the people and culture. Wars had taken their toll on the Russian people, and become a prime element of the culture, from the War with the Tartars to World War I and World War II. The reality of war was much more real to my new friends, as if they had experienced it themselves, even though the last war had been fought over 60 years ago by their grandparents and great-grandparents. War for them, seemed to be a prized possession handed down from generation to generation. It was not a difficult thing for them to embrace a past that had not been experienced in their lifetime. Perhaps because some of World War II took place on their own soil, and with building and church remnants scattered around waiting to be restored, they saw these scenes daily. It took its toll on them.
This people and culture had been formed through much adversity. Honoring those who had passed on before them had become a practiced art. Certainly more than anything I had experienced as an American. Their love for people is hard to describe here, simply they are incredibly loving people. They take time to relish the moment, and to enjoy people and life. They don’t scurry around in busyness, the reverse of life in the western world. We are always busy and most often quickly moving to the next project, the next task, the next phone call, the next person, the next anything. We have learned well how to keep moving, but have we learned how to be quiet, or how to think? Have we learned how to embrace life, to be content with joy or pain? Memorial Day spent in Russia changed me, and made me more conscious of slowing down, of living in the moment, and on this day to honor those who went before me.
Today, Memorial Day 2009, I choose to remember my Dad, an army veteran, whose life was a model of excellence for me every day. As a first generation American, his family had come from Sweden to Northern Minnesota. He spoke two languages while his own parents spoke only one. His father passed away when he was five years old, in 1915, causing an incredible hardship on the family. His father had built the family a nice home, and of course it was paid for. My Dad left school after the sixth grade to work and support his mother. He apprenticed as a carpenter, becoming a master class carpenter and builder of incredible excellence. I remember being so proud of my Dad when I was in the first grade. He had crafted my teacher’s bedroom furniture out of cherry, which was his favorite wood. He was a good man, doing good to others, and living the lessons he had learned as a child in bible classes. Thank you to my Dad for going before me and pointing the way so clearly. Each day my desire is to be worthy of being his daughter. Not a day passes that I don’t think of my Dad with many of my personal decisions influenced directly by his life. Thank you for my father who was a picture of my heavenly Father. I am so grateful for this gift.
“I was very glad to find some of your children walking in truth, just as we have received commandment to do from the Father.” II John 4, NASB
I was impressed by the elaborate plots at the cemeteries, fenced in by lovely iron arches and arrow topped borders, all with some sort of fancy bench or seat inside. I was curious about those seats. Why would a seat be necessary? They anticipated many visits and would need rest, since likely they'd stay all day thinking, remembering the person and the past. This was not a time for prayer. They saved their prayers for church, the Russian Orthodox Church, where candles were lit to signify each prayer.
My first impression upon landing at the airport in Saint Petersburg, Russia on that first trip in 1993 was that World War II had just occurred. It soon became apparent that not only was this my visual impression, but also what I would find as reality in the minds of the people. They talked about World War II like it had taken place the month or the week before. How had that war affected the people so deeply? The effects of trauma carried to a new generation, as if inherited in a will.
While living in Russia, I think I wore my interpreters out asking question upon question in order to gain a deeper understanding of the people and culture. Wars had taken their toll on the Russian people, and become a prime element of the culture, from the War with the Tartars to World War I and World War II. The reality of war was much more real to my new friends, as if they had experienced it themselves, even though the last war had been fought over 60 years ago by their grandparents and great-grandparents. War for them, seemed to be a prized possession handed down from generation to generation. It was not a difficult thing for them to embrace a past that had not been experienced in their lifetime. Perhaps because some of World War II took place on their own soil, and with building and church remnants scattered around waiting to be restored, they saw these scenes daily. It took its toll on them.
This people and culture had been formed through much adversity. Honoring those who had passed on before them had become a practiced art. Certainly more than anything I had experienced as an American. Their love for people is hard to describe here, simply they are incredibly loving people. They take time to relish the moment, and to enjoy people and life. They don’t scurry around in busyness, the reverse of life in the western world. We are always busy and most often quickly moving to the next project, the next task, the next phone call, the next person, the next anything. We have learned well how to keep moving, but have we learned how to be quiet, or how to think? Have we learned how to embrace life, to be content with joy or pain? Memorial Day spent in Russia changed me, and made me more conscious of slowing down, of living in the moment, and on this day to honor those who went before me.
Today, Memorial Day 2009, I choose to remember my Dad, an army veteran, whose life was a model of excellence for me every day. As a first generation American, his family had come from Sweden to Northern Minnesota. He spoke two languages while his own parents spoke only one. His father passed away when he was five years old, in 1915, causing an incredible hardship on the family. His father had built the family a nice home, and of course it was paid for. My Dad left school after the sixth grade to work and support his mother. He apprenticed as a carpenter, becoming a master class carpenter and builder of incredible excellence. I remember being so proud of my Dad when I was in the first grade. He had crafted my teacher’s bedroom furniture out of cherry, which was his favorite wood. He was a good man, doing good to others, and living the lessons he had learned as a child in bible classes. Thank you to my Dad for going before me and pointing the way so clearly. Each day my desire is to be worthy of being his daughter. Not a day passes that I don’t think of my Dad with many of my personal decisions influenced directly by his life. Thank you for my father who was a picture of my heavenly Father. I am so grateful for this gift.
“I was very glad to find some of your children walking in truth, just as we have received commandment to do from the Father.” II John 4, NASB
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Unapologetically a GRANDMOTHER!
Grandmother duty drew me in two mornings this week. Little did I know that in addition, I would adopt a grandson, Timothy, or that I would choose Logan.
Loren and I jumped up Thursday morning to attack the morning’s traffic, arriving on time for the two oldest grandsons’ school Awards Program. They just completed the 7th and 8th grade. Just watching those two boys get up and down a multitude of times to walk across the stage receiving award certificates made me dizzy. They received 17 academic and extra curricula award certificates and a trophy for the highest GPA for their class. After the fact, I was totally worn out. I leaned over and asked the 7th grader if he was perspiring from all the activity. He laughed. Yet, when I think of all the work required to rack up such a pile of trophies and commendations, it boggles my mind. They have invested hours and hours in school work and it shows.
Friday morning we repeated the process for the middle two grandsons. We’re not exactly on the dawn wake-up plan, so thankfully their program started later, enabling me to sleep an extra 30 minutes. Just after we arrived, the flood of young children poured into the auditorium. Our first grade grandson panned the audience, and then scurried to sit between us. A fellow classmate named Timothy plopped down beside me, and eagerly told me that he had neither a mother nor grandmother there. I told him I would adopt him and he could sit by me. He smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.
As our first grader received a few awards, he held them tightly, hardly allowing us to look at them. After he received several more, he gave them to me, and I started a little pile on the floor. From this point on, with each award received he would come back to his seat and quickly deposit his treasure in the pile. Timothy even got into the act. He had received two awards and was almost to his seat, when his name was called again. He quickly threw out his arm and hand with an award to me, without a word indicating to place it in his pile of awards. By the end of the program my first grade grandson had deposited so many awards in his pile that I could no longer keep them neat. At the end of the program, the trophies were awarded to the top students overall. That’s right; he received a trophy for the highest GPA in his class of 27. When it was time for him to go back to his class, he insisted that he would need to take the trophy with him. He was happy, however, for me to keep the pile of awards. I heard him ask as he walked back to class, “What is GPA anyway?”
Finally, our last Awards Program. Grandson #4 in the fifth grade received his own pile of awards. So many in fact that the whole roll of students sitting in front of us kept turning around to look at him each time a new subject was introduced and before any names were called. It was as if they were preparing him to get up, and to tell us that another award was coming his way. It got sort of funny. One boy was so focused on my grandson that he scarcely heard his own name called. When computer awards came up with no award, I leaned over to ask, and he told me that he didn’t like computer. It’s Spanish this time. I looked at him and he repeated that he didn’t like Spanish either. I found out later from his mother that in the two subjects he didn’t like, he came in 2nd and 3rd from the top, and the difference was by a hair. By the end, he received the trophy for the highest GPA in his class. Loren told me that it was a good thing he wasn’t using film in his camera (it’s digital); it would’ve been an expensive two days.
As I pondered all three of these award programs, I had observed many children, some with one or two awards, some with a multitude, and some with none (and it’s my understanding that due to time constraints, character awards had been given in their respective classes, so everyone got some awards). However, my spirit was lifted by one child . . . . . . Logan. Yes, that’s right. LOGAN. I’ve seen Logan many times in many different school programs. It’s hard to miss Logan. You see Logan had cerebral palsy. He manages by himself, using a walker, crawling up the steps until he can pull himself up to walk, or sometimes simply slowly walking. He always finds his way in the program, whether managing his singing spot or maneuvering a walk across the stage to receive an award. What an incredible blessing that four of my grandsons get to go to school with Logan.
I love the writings of Isobel Kuhn, a missionary to China in the 1930’s and 40’s, and later to Thailand. In her book, “In The Arena” she says that God puts us on a platform to witness to the world of Jesus, and that our trials whether large or small are designed for this reason. I’m reminded of the bible school song, “This Little Light of Mine”. We are HIS light to the world, which shines even brighter through trials. Logan always rises above the crowd. He shines, not because of his walker or that he crawls or slowly walks. But, wow, what a smile! His effervescence radiates light and joy to the whole room.
Don’t get me wrong. I am extremely proud of all of my grandsons, and these four have proved that hard work brings success. In addition, in another state the youngest of all six graduated from kindergarten, and his brother completed first grade. I am proud of all of them. They are all growing and learning so much so fast. I am a proud grandmother indeed. But, in conclusion, my desire for all of them, and me too is to shine like Logan.
"Please Lord, I choose Logan, would you make us all just like Logan inside, please.”
“It seems to me that God has put us who bear His Message on stage in a theater in which no one wants to buy a ticket. We’re something everyone stands around and stares at, like an accident in the street.”
I Corinthians 4:9, The Message Bible
Thursday, May 21, 2009
WOO HOO ! ! ! ! ! !
I will admit it. YES! I am a Kris Allen fan. Some of you didn’t watch American Idol and there are a variety of reasons, I’m sure. I did watch and pray. Kris is a believer and worship leader at his church in Conway, Arkansas, close to my stomping ground for a lot of years. He is a musician through and through, sings, writes, arranges music, has played viola since elementary school, taught himself guitar at 13 yrs. of age (now 23), and taught himself piano in college, which means within the last 3 years. He sang on stage, both with guitar and piano at different times, of course. He is truly the boy next door, clean cut, and with a refreshing humble attitude about himself. Early on in the competition, he assisted others with their music when he could have been taking care of Kris. One of the judges exclaimed to Kris, “You have lifted the spirit in all of us.”
Adam is an incredible singer with a voice range that is off the charts. He’s an actor, having performed on stage since the age of 10 (now 27). His confidence and stage presence are amazing. As he was interviewed throughout the season, he possessed an impressive humility and graciousness. However, there was oppression, heaviness, a darkness to his music.
I am praising the Lord that the spirit lifting singer won. Yea Kris! Woo Hoo! Approximately 100 million votes were cast and according to one statistical web site, the difference was too little to call well into the day after the voting took place. That means Kris received something over 51 million votes and I’m not sure of the percentage, but close to 52%.
I have one more thing to say. Could the statistics of this finale be revealing a twist in our cultural dilemma? Obama watch out! Middle America is on the war path. Obama received 53% of the votes for President and just over 69 million votes. Perhaps, we should run Kris Allen for President next time. With close to 52% of the vote and something like 52 million calls or text messages, I think we’d have a winner. And he did it all in 4 short months. Yes, that’s right. He won the hearts of America in 4 months.
Hey, I have an idea. We could hire Acorn to work the phones and text messages and forget all these polling places. That would save money too! One thing for sure; We would know we got a humble guy and someone who lives his Christianity. He wouldn't change his position from week to week. Shoot, the producers couldn't get Chris to change his style of dress, much less who he is. He wouldn’t do worse than Obama. At least Kris would be praying about his work, and be consistent in what he believes. God is good. Amen.
Adam is an incredible singer with a voice range that is off the charts. He’s an actor, having performed on stage since the age of 10 (now 27). His confidence and stage presence are amazing. As he was interviewed throughout the season, he possessed an impressive humility and graciousness. However, there was oppression, heaviness, a darkness to his music.
I am praising the Lord that the spirit lifting singer won. Yea Kris! Woo Hoo! Approximately 100 million votes were cast and according to one statistical web site, the difference was too little to call well into the day after the voting took place. That means Kris received something over 51 million votes and I’m not sure of the percentage, but close to 52%.
I have one more thing to say. Could the statistics of this finale be revealing a twist in our cultural dilemma? Obama watch out! Middle America is on the war path. Obama received 53% of the votes for President and just over 69 million votes. Perhaps, we should run Kris Allen for President next time. With close to 52% of the vote and something like 52 million calls or text messages, I think we’d have a winner. And he did it all in 4 short months. Yes, that’s right. He won the hearts of America in 4 months.
Hey, I have an idea. We could hire Acorn to work the phones and text messages and forget all these polling places. That would save money too! One thing for sure; We would know we got a humble guy and someone who lives his Christianity. He wouldn't change his position from week to week. Shoot, the producers couldn't get Chris to change his style of dress, much less who he is. He wouldn’t do worse than Obama. At least Kris would be praying about his work, and be consistent in what he believes. God is good. Amen.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Growing Older But Loving Life
Today is my spiritual birthday, the celebration of the day I met Jesus. It was 34 years ago & I have never gotten over it! I still love Him, and more and better. My life verse is Philippians 3:10, “That I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death.” NASB
A lot has transpired since I was 25 years old and came to know Him. I have learned that more of His power comes through sufferings. I would walk those valleys again if I had been told the benefits in the beginning. It has made me much less afraid of conflict and resolution, because I know you just have to wade through some muck and mire to get to the gems of real understanding and true forgiveness. I've also learned that some people want to work through and some don't and you just have to work with those who do. In the end, relationships are much deeper when the hard work has been done. If they don't want to do the hard work, they simply walk away.
Saturday was such a great day. Loren & I took a long walk around our neighborhood. My left foot/ ankle is still weak from wearing a cast. I potted the two large urns that sit just beyond the entrance to our home with pink wave petunias, a trailing ground cover, and a clump of lovely green foot high grass. Afterward, Loren and I, but mostly Loren cleaned off the patio, which is no small task. There’s lots of furniture, plants, shelves, etc. out there.
The sad note was that I had to throw away – throw away I say (& I hate throwing away anything) my famous gardenia bush, which had over 100 blooms last year. It must have gotten too cold this winter. I also threw away my 3 year old curly ivy that sat on the top shelf of my iron étagère. I had no idea it was struggling, until one day I looked out and it was totally brown. I guess my illnesses, and lack of attention affected my plants as well as my body this winter. It felt so good to get those urns planted and the patio cleaned up, however today my back is paying for all that fun I had.
Sunday was a great day as well. Church was uplifting. The teaching was insightful and needed. Fellowship was great. It was a day of much encouragement, as it should be.
Getting older spiritually is wonderful. I've been on a journey with God. He's taken me incredible places, places of the heart and body. Getting older physically is not so wonderful. As my body grows weaker through the years, hopefully my heart will grow deeper still through the valleys ahead, as My Savior continues to walk with me all the way home.
II Cor. 4:16," Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. " NAS
A lot has transpired since I was 25 years old and came to know Him. I have learned that more of His power comes through sufferings. I would walk those valleys again if I had been told the benefits in the beginning. It has made me much less afraid of conflict and resolution, because I know you just have to wade through some muck and mire to get to the gems of real understanding and true forgiveness. I've also learned that some people want to work through and some don't and you just have to work with those who do. In the end, relationships are much deeper when the hard work has been done. If they don't want to do the hard work, they simply walk away.
Saturday was such a great day. Loren & I took a long walk around our neighborhood. My left foot/ ankle is still weak from wearing a cast. I potted the two large urns that sit just beyond the entrance to our home with pink wave petunias, a trailing ground cover, and a clump of lovely green foot high grass. Afterward, Loren and I, but mostly Loren cleaned off the patio, which is no small task. There’s lots of furniture, plants, shelves, etc. out there.
The sad note was that I had to throw away – throw away I say (& I hate throwing away anything) my famous gardenia bush, which had over 100 blooms last year. It must have gotten too cold this winter. I also threw away my 3 year old curly ivy that sat on the top shelf of my iron étagère. I had no idea it was struggling, until one day I looked out and it was totally brown. I guess my illnesses, and lack of attention affected my plants as well as my body this winter. It felt so good to get those urns planted and the patio cleaned up, however today my back is paying for all that fun I had.
Sunday was a great day as well. Church was uplifting. The teaching was insightful and needed. Fellowship was great. It was a day of much encouragement, as it should be.
Getting older spiritually is wonderful. I've been on a journey with God. He's taken me incredible places, places of the heart and body. Getting older physically is not so wonderful. As my body grows weaker through the years, hopefully my heart will grow deeper still through the valleys ahead, as My Savior continues to walk with me all the way home.
II Cor. 4:16," Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. " NAS
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Walls
Are they needed? Necessary? Good?
Well . . . it depends on their purpose. If they are supporting or protecting, then they are needed and good. If they are not necessary, then they could be a barrier. For instance, in a home, if a wall isn’t needed for support, then to take it down would bring a whole wide open space unavailable for prior use.
I’ve been thinking about a small book I read years ago, My Heart Christ’s Home. The illustration was given of the heart being like a home with rooms and doors to each room. Your guest, Christ, only goes into the rooms that He is invited to enter. It’s a beautiful home, well kept, clean. You don’t hesitate to invite your guest into each and every room. Oh, except for one – the storage room or the attic. It’s too messy to invite anyone there.
Perhaps a room was left out? Could there be a secret room? That room clearly would be a mess. No way to get in to clean. It would be wise to take down the whole wall, clean up that room and then wow, you’ve just added to your investment by opening up a new larger space.
Several weeks ago, I realized that there was a wall in my heart, protecting a small room all its own. It had been a good wall. It protected me. It provided a safe place. It was sealed shut. Nothing could get in and nothing could get out. Finally, it became apparent that the wall was no longer needed nor wanted. In fact, the wall had become a barrier, a hindrance to hopes, dreams, desires.
So . . . I say, “Take down that wall!” Oh my. It’s been a messy two weeks of clean up.
“I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name forever.” The ESV English-Hebrew Reverse Interlinear Old Testament, Psalms 86:12
Well . . . it depends on their purpose. If they are supporting or protecting, then they are needed and good. If they are not necessary, then they could be a barrier. For instance, in a home, if a wall isn’t needed for support, then to take it down would bring a whole wide open space unavailable for prior use.
I’ve been thinking about a small book I read years ago, My Heart Christ’s Home. The illustration was given of the heart being like a home with rooms and doors to each room. Your guest, Christ, only goes into the rooms that He is invited to enter. It’s a beautiful home, well kept, clean. You don’t hesitate to invite your guest into each and every room. Oh, except for one – the storage room or the attic. It’s too messy to invite anyone there.
Perhaps a room was left out? Could there be a secret room? That room clearly would be a mess. No way to get in to clean. It would be wise to take down the whole wall, clean up that room and then wow, you’ve just added to your investment by opening up a new larger space.
Several weeks ago, I realized that there was a wall in my heart, protecting a small room all its own. It had been a good wall. It protected me. It provided a safe place. It was sealed shut. Nothing could get in and nothing could get out. Finally, it became apparent that the wall was no longer needed nor wanted. In fact, the wall had become a barrier, a hindrance to hopes, dreams, desires.
So . . . I say, “Take down that wall!” Oh my. It’s been a messy two weeks of clean up.
“I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name forever.” The ESV English-Hebrew Reverse Interlinear Old Testament, Psalms 86:12
Friday, May 15, 2009
I Can't Believe It
I can't believe I'm actually here. I had not planned to start a blog tonight, though the desire had surfaced in my soul a long time ago. It's now or never I guess. So . . . I'm jumping in and hoping it will be fun.
Why did I title my blog "It's A Potpourri Life"? Potpourri is a mingling of fragrances, textures, and colors, all enjoyable. The mixture eventually releases a sweet aroma. Such are the stories and vignettes of life. May my life be a sweet aroma of Jesus Christ Himself as He stirs it all into my personal journey with Him. May you be blessed by my interpretations, contemplations, and stories. Praise to Him!
"For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing." II Cor. 2:15 NASV
Why did I title my blog "It's A Potpourri Life"? Potpourri is a mingling of fragrances, textures, and colors, all enjoyable. The mixture eventually releases a sweet aroma. Such are the stories and vignettes of life. May my life be a sweet aroma of Jesus Christ Himself as He stirs it all into my personal journey with Him. May you be blessed by my interpretations, contemplations, and stories. Praise to Him!
"For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing." II Cor. 2:15 NASV
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