More on Giving and Receiving, Taking and Losing

One Friday long ago I came home from work to find glass from my back door scattered across the patio and the door standing open.  I didn’t go inside, because someone could still be there, looking (unsuccessfully) for a cache of things he could pawn; instead, I went across the street to a neighbor’s house to call the police.

After declaring the house safe, they left and I went inside to check on my little Shadow, a little schnauzer/terrier, and found her safe but trembling in fear under a bureau. Somehow in desperation, she had scrambled under a six-inch space she was barely able to squeeze out of, now that she was safe. She remained traumatized for a week and trembled at the smallest unusual sound.

When I took stock, I found nothing missing that affected my daily life—even my new microwave, a modest TV and record player were undisturbed. Nothing that I’d have to replace for daily living--all that was missing was my mother’s wedding ring, pearl and silver earrings my dad had brought me from Japan, a solitaire ring from my father-in-law and my 4^th anniversary gift, a Navaho turquoise bracelet (that had outlasted the marriage). And I needed a carpenter to repair the door frame—when the thief kicked in the dead-bolted door, the lock didn’t give way--the door frame and a bit of wall were ripped too. One might think that now living alone for the first time ever, I might be especially fearful, knowing how easily someone could break in, but God’s presence was there, day or night always.

When my aunt asked what I’d lost, she became very emotional about the terrible loss of Mother’s ring so I quickly terminated the call. I couldn’t sink to helplessness or fear. A deacon in my church, owner of a construction company, came Friday evening to nail the door shut and repaired it Saturday. I was safe and the repair wasn’t a huge expense. I suddenly saw this episode in a new light.

Whenever my aunt began to moan, trying to get me to grieve along with her, I explained  that since I had been divorced, sold “our house” and bought a smaller one, I had gratefully told God that I considered the house and everything in it His and I was happily His steward in residence.  The few things taken from this home left in a thief’s pants pocket. They weren’t mine so I would not grieve for the loss; they were God’s. Wherever they now were, they were still His. And I wouldn’t stand in the shoes of that thief for riches far beyond their value, when God came to collect what was His!

In the years since then, at various times God brought me someone needing a place to stay for a weekend or a few months and He provided them refuge in His house and His peace filled it. Since I became unable to live alone, the proceeds of the sale still provide for me. My aunt? I regret she never learned what I had learned—the peace of knowing God truly can be trusted for life before Heaven! After her husband died, she kept his closet intact; she refused to give away his suits to a charity where "some dirty bum would wear her husband’s clothes until they fell away in dirty rags". And she slept fearfully the rest of her life, unaware that God was keeping her safe.

The Art of Giving

                                                

     Several decades ago, when my girls were small and eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival, I hit on a plan to enlist their help in cleaning their closet and toybox and train them in the valuable art of giving. After all, if Santa Claus peeked into their room and saw the mountain of toys, where would he leave their new ones? Next door? Across the street? Would their stockings be empty Christmas morning because Saint Nicholas would believe they were greedy, having all those toys and still wanting more? 

     So around Thanksgiving we began the family tradition of sorting through toys and clothes they had outgrown or grown tired of, but were still attractive enough to make someone else a little happier on the holiday. Giving away a beloved toy is a hard sell, even with the trade-off of knowing there are more to come very soon, but the girls enthusiastically approached this project without tears--until they saw those long-forgotten toys so attractively perched in cartons leaving the house. And I got a cleaner, clutter-free house for the holidays. 

     Through encouraging my children to learn to enjoy giving happiness away, I learned a thing or two also, lessons that became embedded in my heart. It all relates somehow to the Biblical  promise that His children shall become as vessels of living water, which didn’t sound all that significant to me until I heard a preacher describe the difference in the quality of water in a flowing river and a stagnant, smelly  pool, dammed up, no longer releasing any water. 

     Water flowing freely is purified as it travels and shares itself all along the riverbed, whereas by holding onto what it has, the stagnant pool deteriorates and its water becomes polluted and no longer a blessing.

     My goal in giving is not to receive more for myself, but to learn to become a conduit, readily sharing what is given to me. The benefit to recipient and giver is clear and ongoing as each one shares, as illustrated in the movie a few years ago Pay It Forward.

     Although I give with an open hand; God gives with both hands and my hand is still open to receive and share again. Whether or not the gift is appreciated, giving blesses me. Whether the recipient  receives a blessing with my gift is not my responsibility; it depends on  the openness of his heart to be a blessing to others. 

     After thinking about the principles involved, I concluded this is a fairly effective way of dealing with life: discard those things, habits and attitudes that ill serve you and make room for growth and blessings in return.

Food for Thought

“Food for thought" is no substitute for the real thing”

On the Cooking TV Network I heard someone say that this morning.  This was his humorous promotion of the upcoming cooking show. But as I listened to his words, I realized His words could lead to a more important truth, depending on what “the real thing” meant.

In the world, “Eat, drink and be merry” is a common call. No thought required for that. Yet thought is extremely important for long, productive, satisfying life: “Look before you leap” means “think before you act” and doing so can save a lot of missteps which lead to disaster.  

What we think casts a longer shadow on our lives than what we eat and is therefore more important.

 

         Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever 

         is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--    

        think about such things.                  Philippians 4:8















food for Tjought

Mind Your Own Business

Most of us live our lives as though it’s nobody’s business what choices, what life decisions we make. After all, it’s a free country, right?  The heart wants what it wants and why shouldn’t our own happiness be our goal? It’s nobody’s business what we do. Everybody has the “right” to do as they please—or is that true? Even our nation’s constitution guarantees our rights only to the point they infringe on others’ lives.

When I was young, I thought the Old Testament was basically a history of the Hebrew nation.  Like the comic books I read, there were monsters and superheroes that put the welfare of others first and saved the day. It was thrilling to imagine there could be heroes like that alive today, to save us from monsters like Hitler. How could these stories pertain to our world today?  Maybe the Old Testament is more than a history of the Hebrew nation.

As my understanding of this world and the next grew, I learned that the heroes in the Bible were not a separate breed of men with super powers, but ordinary men who sinned, doubted themselves, then trusted in God’s guidance and made themselves available to Him, resulting in miraculous changes in their lives and the lives of those around then. Doesn’t that mean it’s as current as the daily news program on radio or TV?

Today Dr. Charles Stanley talked about two such men—one a king over a wealthy country, who believed he had divine right to take what he wanted and a man raised in Egyptian   royalty, exiled for murder, a fugitive who had lived 40 years as a shepherd far away. God arranged for his return to rescue some two million Hebrew slaves. Why didn’t God pick someone who could command the respect of his adversary, someone well known, someone so powerful that pharaoh would listen to him?

No contest surely. Through Moses, God gave pharaoh many warnings of great trouble which would affect the lives of those ruled by pharaoh, which he felt free to ignore despite the danger to his citizens.  His comfort, his wealth, his international fame were his goal. And despite fulfillment of a series of increasingly painful plagues suffered by his people, his heart was hardened against this Moses upstart, this nothing little shepherd who dared to defy him, and this God he spoke of. Until the death of his own son—then he was suddenly eager to have this pesky group of slaves gone. God made it clear, by choosing Moses, that the results of this battle would bear witness to His all-powerful hand raised against this evil king, not that of any man.

Pharaoh’s pride and greed were his choice, but his people paid the price in pain. most of us  have at least one sin we cling to, believing it is no one else’s business—just between us and God. He knows his children will stumble as they go and is ready to forgive, but any sin we refuse to give up stands between us and God, at our peril.

But each of us has someone watching us, perhaps heartbrokenly watching and loving us, or God forbid, following our example in life. Do we really want to carry to Judgment Day the additional burden of their pain or loss of faith?

Yes, Lord

The most important words I ever said. And blessings poured into my life day by day, year by year from His bounty without measure, often unnoticed, always at the best time and never too late, regardless of how impatiently I waited, as I gradually learned saying yes saves a lot of heartache and wasted effort.             God blessed me with a memory equipped to recall many decades of situations which could have been crushing and seemed to hover far too long for comfort and although unseen then, cleared the way for more blessings. Perhaps not a solution I desired at the time, but often now I can see the delicacy of His loving hand adjusting bits of my life, perhaps taking away some bits I’m better off without, or the occasional ‘pop quiz’ just to prove I’m listening, as He taught me I can trust Him. Completely. All the time. Always.             Time and distance often help us to understand God’s planning—not always though. Sometimes, reminding us He’s King, Master, Father, He does not explain. (His world, His rules.) Remembering and enjoying beauty and love in all the good things I know about Him, I can accept that I have no right to demand answers. I just remind myself to say daily “Yes, Lord”. I trust in what I know about Him; I can trust the unknown to His loving, all-powerful hand.             Anytime I tried to handle trouble by myself, bitterness took root. Yet seen from a great distance, no anger or bitterness remains from the past, all seen through eyes filled with His love. The only sadness I feel is regret over how slowly I grew as I gradually, so painfully slowly, and the opportunities I missed along the way.             I’ve had my ‘last word’; I pray whenever you reach your last brief time in this world, you can look back at a lifetime filled with God’s blessings.

On the Rarity of Boldness

      

          I remember when I was a small child in church that a preacher often got so excited, so filled with passion, that his voice rose to a shout as he paced back and forth with such urgency in his voice, such emotion, that even so small a creature as I could not ignore what he was saying. In fact one preacher (J.. Frank Norris, a local fire-and-brimstone preacher in the 1920s-1930s, whose church grew to fill a city block ) inspired such emotion in my own father that his strong feelings led to rebellion and he rose mid-service, grabbed my hand and dragged Mother and me out of that church, never to return. 
            My dad rebelled at hearing the fate of a sinner described so vividly and darkly. His view of God was purely love toward mankind. So far as I know, Daddy stayed away from church services for the next decade. Years later, he said he couldn’t sit and listen to someone talk about a God who said He loved us and yet condemn sinners to such an eternal, infernal fate. Yet Jesus spoke of Hell three times as often as He did Heaven. If God the Father is real, so is God the Judge, who will sentence any who refuse to accept His pardon, given at the expense of the Perfect One, who sacrificed Himself, accepting the death penalty our sin requires. Both Heaven and Hell are real or Jesus was not who He said He was and there is no Heaven, indeed no God! 
            I wonder whether as time went on many pastors, seeking popularity perhaps, had trouble explaining away this truth and began to avoid this aspect of God and rather began to emphasize in their teaching discipleship, a form of self-improvement intended to bring us closer to a loving Father.  Even while telling us we were saved by God’s grace through faith He planted in our hearts, I wonder if we listeners hear only that we need to improve to enter Heaven, not hearing the part about no one ever becoming good enough without Jesus paying our penalty. 
           We often seem to think of Holy God as dispenser of Good things, a doting Grandfather and less often remember He is a Judge who hates any sin (He doesn't grade on the curve) and who dispenses final judgment. One day His patience will end and His invitation will be withheld, Heaven's gate will be shut, leaving us to our choice: an eternal future without Him and an eternal penalty to repent, without hope. 
            A precious few preachers now seem to sense that time is short; there is a boldness in their message which demands our full attention. Self-improvement is not why God left us here in this sin-filled world—if we loved others as we do Him, we would be shouting about the dangers ahead for those who deny Him as Lord. This is not the time for timidity, tolerance of evil around us.
            One has described our behavior as that of a surgeon who could heal our disease, but fears bad news would offend his patient, fails to offer the cure or even tell us there is a cure, and lets us limp forward with a prognosis of sure death. Yes, surgery is painful, but better than the alternate. Or a fireman sitting in the firehouse, ignoring the blaring alarm which signals imminent death for some unknowing victim, or a highway repairman failing to signal a collapsed bridge ahead. 
            The one thing we can do today which cannot be done after we leave this world behind is to share God's love and warning to those around us, whose coattails are already smoking. 

                                   

Ever get stuck in the mud?

            It somehow happens to all of us one day or another. Messy at best, dangerous at worst; usually we’re caught unaware.

            As little children, it was a pleasant way to pass time, playing in the mud, making mud pies and pretending they’re real. At suppertime we craved resl food but before letting us come in, our mother or father would carry us inside for a bath and gently scrub away all the dried mud and bring us, spotless, to the family dinner able.

            As we grew, we loved to splash in rain puddles along the roadside. Parents taught us the dangers of getting so close to traffic. They reminded us we needed our shoes, dry and shiny, for school the next day. One day after a storm, my path home became a slip-and-slide of gooey mud, with no way around it. As I slipped and slid, my foot became trapped! I struggled and finally wrestled my foot free, but left my shoe behind.  I was freed, but at a cost.

            One boring afternoon Mother was frustrated to stay home. Daddy parked the car at the airport and spent the sunny weekends taking pilot lesson. She and I took a bus to the airport, found the car and drove away. I knew trouble was just around the corner—nobody drove his car, ever! After a mile or so, we found ourselves on an unfamiliar road, a deeply muddy road. We got out, walked to a bus stop and went home, leaving the car firmly held prisoner up to its hubcaps. I thought it was gone for good but the next day it was in its driveway as usual and clean! I never knew how—Daddy must have had helpful friends who pulled and pushed to set it free.

            Even though we outgrow mud pies, we’re naturally drawn to the dangerous path, getting our feet muddy, The farther down this path we go, the less we realize our danger--it begins to seem normal. We no longer recognize the filth of our path—after all, there are crowds of people slogging through the street with us and nobody seems to notice they are sinking lower with each unheeding step. Eventually the struggle seems hopeless and we look up and see Our Father’s hand, reaching down from Heaven to scrub away all the mud and bring us to His family feast.

        His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our                           acknowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.
                                                      2 Peter 1:3, NIV

           

           

Importance of Vehicle Maintenance

Once I had a shiny, new automobile I was thrilled with—at first. A few months later, not so much. It grew fond of dying in an intersection, seeming to enjoy the attention of other cars, whose horns loudly brayed their ridicule as they edged around us.

Eventually Wheels, as I had named her, grew tired of the game and would meekly cough and resume her sedate path homeward. Sometimes she behaved even more erratically: for no apparent reason, she displayed a streak of anger in a fountain of hot water shooting from her radiator.

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I was puzzled; she had always received tender, loving care—Saturday afternoons were spa day, up to and including a cooling spritz of floral-scented air freshener.  Why was she becoming so finicky, xo  temperamental?

A kind mechanic at the dealership helped me understand her behavior was a cry for help, which I hadn’t understood. Her outbursts of hot water, he said, were her plea for a cooling drink of anti-freeze. And her capricious stops and starts were solved by looking under her hood. A cable was hanging onto the battery by a thread, causing it to become unstable. The battery connections were corroded so her connection to power was corrupted. Simple to fix but unnecessary if she had been properly maintained.

My fault, my responsibility.

Come to think about it, a little like my spiritual life, neglected and ignored, despite my best intentions. Corrosion between my heart and my Source of Power affect my performance—sin is corrosive and divisive, distracting me, separating me from my Heavenly Father. And spending more time reading the Owner’s Manual for my life, living water nourishing my soul—the Holy Bible--should keep me from stalling out in heavy traffic, those urgent times when I feel so out of control.  Simple to fix, but requiring my diligent attention, my earnest effort to follow my Lord, my Leader, all the way Home.  Effort well rewarded by a smoother path ahead.

Truth?  "Wheels" existed only to illustrate an important point, although I did once own a car that spent more time at the shop than its own garage.

Our spiritual growth is at risk when we try to "wing it" instead of daily checking with our Master Mechanic and learning all we can from His Instruction manual. All the info is right there,  readily available because He loves each one of us.

Appreciating God's Presence

It used to be years ago when I was young, that Wednesday night at church meant a short Bible study and then a good testimony hour or so, when many folks took their turn up front telling something special the Lord had done for them the prior week. (They didn’t need to go back farther, because they probably had already testified to last week’s blessings.) Most of their tales were not what some people might call a traffic-stopping miracle but a kind remark from a boss, some kindness from a stranger, a temptation they had avoided, repairing a broken friendship, or finding a better job after a long search.

And you can be sure, nobody wanted to sit on their hands and listen to everybody else brag about their special attention from God that week without taking your turn—heaven forbid you couldn’t think of anything more wonderful than all  your neighbors said about all God was doing for them--you might be tempted to make up something good so the others wouldn’t think you’d fallen away from the faith or were caught up in sin so God stopped talking to you. Talk about plain old red-faced blushing! That would tip them off for sure that your heart wasn't in the battle.

That's the kind of peer pressure this world needs now, challenging each other to be the best we can be.

Seriously though, it was actually a sweet time of rejoicing and sharing about God’s active presence in our little congregation. The point is, when you’re looking for it, you can think back and see God’s hand smoothing your path. Practicing awareness of God’s daily presence builds faith for those inevitable difficult times when you can expect your faith to be tested and tests are usually uncomfortable; some are life changing.

God never takes a day off, leaving us on our own when trouble comes. He certainly is due for praises as we recount to one another what God has done and is doing in our own lives. He certainly appreciates a thankful heart in His children as we give Him credit for good things happening instead of bragging as though we alone are responsible for our successes or even worse: our “good luck”.

Practicing the presence of God means acknowledging His presence, talking to Him as you go through your day, as you would speak to friends or co-workers.  Is that what it means when the Bible tells us to "pray without ceasing"? Nothing much going on this particular day? There’s always the weather to talk about, the sunshine warming your face or the cool breeze and fresh smell after a rain shower. Or what about the traffic jam this morning? No one got killed, and you can thank Him for that less traumatizing outcome and ask Him to provide quick healing for the stranger in the ambulance as it passes you.

On a plain, boring day, talk to Him about something He created that you particularly enjoy or contemplate with Him the beauty and complexity of His various creations for our pleasure or use. Sharing some of the good things you experience with God could strengthen someone else's faith or encourage the to be more aware of His presence. He's here, right beside you--don't ignore Him. Enjoy the companionship.

Facing the Tough Stuff

                                             

            For decades I never told anyone about my biggest, most intense fear: a tornado. When did it begin? It wasn’t always there but serious thinking back failed to reveal its beginning. When I was a very little girl, my mother told me about her family being in a tornado and that she was scared, but that seemed like a “once upon a time” story, happening long before I was born. She was very young herself at the time, so that didn’t really seem real to me. The tornado that carried Dorothy and Toto to the Land of Oz landed the girl in a Technicolor wonderland, so that didn’t seem like such a bad thing. 

            Once during my high school years, I remember standing with neighbors in our front yard watching an eerie wall cloud rumble across the sky above. One of the neighbors (raised in Tornado Alley, Oklahoma) proclaimed it was the classic cloud carrying a tornado ready to dip down at any moment, anywhere along its path, whenever it chose. Impressive enough to take seriously, but it was nothing to cause heart-stopping terror. That came later, gradually; over time it grew from normal caution and respect into a panic response at the mere threat of a storm anywhere in the county. 

             My sister and her husband encountered a small twister while driving along a Missouri highway and left their car and sheltered in a ditch, then, unharmed, drove on their way. I knew they are survivable, but not for me.

My imagination was fed generously by television newsmen and their detailed reports of storms hundreds of miles away—they looked so close on the map and stern warnings issued as the storms developed demanded serious attention. Then one spring storm season, I found myself at home with two small children, a husband working the night shift. I soon formed the habit of sitting up in bed, lights on, waiting for each storm warning to be declared “all clear”, making the next day at work extremely tedious as I sleepwalked through my job. If the storm was particularly close and turbulent (according to my television friend’s warning), on those nights I sat up until the storm passed our area, fully clothed, purse, car keys, flashlight at my fingertips. In case I dozed off, I kept the television on, even though the channels had signed off around midnight, because I knew my faithful protector at Channel 5 would (at full volume) broadcast news of any secondary storm fronts passing by.

            Somewhere along my journey I began to have nightmares about cyclones, usually taking the form of my joining a line of many people standing helplessly, watching a huge tornado approaching from miles away, headed directly for us. Paralyzed with terror, we awaited our doom, making no attempt to escape. Thankfully, in none of those dreams did the storm ever arrive before I awoke. The thought of being buried under what’s left of a house gives a whole new insight into the vengefulness of the witch in Munchkin Land when her sister was squashed by Dorothy’s house arriving suddenly from Kansas.

Yes, when we’re awake, we remember all the warnings to run from them, take cover, promising we can, if caught outdoors, safely outrun a storm and should head at right angles to their path. On the other hand, we also have seen television films showing the erratic hop-skip-jump path they take, leaving debris or clean foundations where a community of homes was an hour earlier, leading me to take those guarantees of safety with a grain of salt. 

Then came the day I learned a lot about myself. 

On an early spring day while I was at work, at Abbott Labs in Irving, there were reports of hook clouds in multiple locations in the immediate area but none had touched down so far. When I left for home at 4:00 the wind was blowing leaves and trash almost horizontally to the road and I could look to the north and west and see several of those hook clouds all around DFW airport, which raised goose bumps and whitened my knuckles on the steering wheel. Then, as though that wasn’t enough to panic me, as I headed south, I passed a police car parked on the median strip of Belt Line Road in Irving, facing north with the driver’s door open and a uniformed policeman standing facing north, his radio to his lips, staring straight at the sky.behind me.

Later that day the TV news reported hanger and small aircraft damage at DFW Airport, less than three miles away, proving I hadn’t overestimated the danger I had avoided. However, still hoping for the best, I turned off Belt Line Road onto the service road to Airport Freeway. Once I entered the freeway the wind accelerated, still horizontal, blowing straight to the south, broadside to my car, carrying such dirt, leaves and small debris that the road almost disappeared. I pulled onto the shoulder and stopped, hoping rain would follow and the wind would die down so I could proceed home. The wind seemed to come in gusts, like a powerful heartbeat, and my car rocked hard with each gust as though my right wheels would leave the ground with the next blow.             

I had recently attended a week-long revival preached by evangelist Jack Taylor and now understood what a shallow, powerless, fearful Christian I had always been. More important I had become convinced that Christians are not limited to their human strengths and are not supposed to live that way. As I sat in that rocking car, I looked across three lanes of traffic to my left and prayed. I recognized that beyond the next few minutes my next sight would likely be heaven or a hospital and prayed my rolling car wouldn’t hit and injure someone else on the freeway. Now calm, the thought came to me; “I need something to hold this car down.” Immediately a song we had sung all week in church came to mind and I began to sing “He’s my rock, He’s my deliverer”. The car heaved mightily once more and then sat glued to the road, stable as the Rock holding it in place. I sat for a while watching the wind still sending dirt, leaves and debris flying across the road yet my car never quivered again. 

If we’re lucky, we may receive such direct assurance of our destiny a few times in a lifetime. This was one of perhaps half dozen great revelations over my eight decades.  His Holy Spirit had physically held me on my feet at my mother’s graveside some twenty years ago. A few years later I watched His loving care through Kathy’s long illness until He opened Heaven’s door for my daughter. His presence was so tangible I felt it would be sacrilege to mourn my loss, knowing her body and speech were now restored and she was singing freely once more, this time directly to the subject of her music: her Lord and God.

All I know is that since that spring day in Irving, I listen to storm warnings and take precautions, taking cover in a closet if need be, but otherwise remain calm. No more nightmares about cyclones, no more morbid fascination with storms, just a quick prayer breathed for any possible victims of the storm as it passed through and reasonable care when called for. .And just t prove it to me, there was a test!

At 3:30 a.m. April 10, 2008, my Father in Heaven again proved He cared for me beyond my safety; He protected me from any remnant of fear that might remain in a dark corner of my heart. You see, the power went out during the night before, keeping me awake for a few hours. By bedtime on April 9, I was exhausted enough to sleep through the strange-sounding wind that woke my neighbors and sent them to their hallway for safety. No chance of my worrying or being fearful, even though a few hours earlier I had seen on the television radar screen that a tornado, forming and dissolving and forming again, was on a path toward south Hurst. 

However, at 3:30 a.m. a monstrous crash and a ball of fire outside my window raised me inches above my recliner. I was convinced there had been a very close lightning strike because the flash of light and the booming noise were almost simultaneous. I knew the power was off, the phone and security system both dead, but after a couple of hours, dozed off again. Until a neighbor knocked on my door the next morning I didn’t know the huge cottonwood tree next door had fallen on my roof. Actually their elm tree fell on their kitchen and the cottonwood fell on their garage and my house, totaling their kitchen and denting their car through a hole in the garage roof. It took out a section of fence, totaled my air conditioner, and bent double the power pole holding electric wiring to my house, leaving my electric meter, telephone box and breaker box dangling. It left a hole in the roof, 3 damaged rafter tails with a half-moon bite out of the roofing overhang—about four feet from where I was sleeping.              

When I ventured outside that morning, the man next door said his mother had earlier called 911 but since no one came, an hour later he called and the Fire Department were there almost immediately, from their station two blocks away. They sealed the neighbor’s house and part of my yard with yellow hazard tape. His kitchen roof was now accordion-shaped and there were downed wires over both our back yards. The street was full of people talking, wondering what to do first. One woman looked up and waved at the news helicopter flying over and a man with a commercial camcorder on his shoulder followed me to the back yard to look at the damage, trying to interview me before I had washed my face or combed my hair. It was surreal—I felt like I was watching it unfold on a newsreel. 

The next couple of days were a blur of strangers tramping through my yard as I tried to figure out how to deal with the damage. The owner of the tree hired someone to remove both huge trees from both houses about three days later. (It took the crew three days to finish.) In the meantime my roofer put a temporary patch over the hole in my roof and I found someone to remove a couple of branches looming over the electrical wiring hash so a very obliging electrician could get his day’s work done. 

By the second day two neighbors whose power was still working brought extension cords to keep my freezer and refrigerator working. Other neighbors shared power with those across the street, where the entire block was dark for four days. The early spring nights were cold without heat, but I refused to go to a hotel and leave my home unlocked with an open door for the lifeline to my fridge and leave my precious dog alone and fearful. We kept each other warm, listened to KCBI FM on a battery radio for Christian music reminding me of my blessings. There was cereal and milk for breakfast, cheese and cold cuts for lunch and Celina next door brought me a hot dinner three nights.

Three of my phone extensions were working; three were not. During the week I left home briefly twice, for a hot meal and a few groceries. I was reluctant to leave the house for fear of missing a call back from carpenters, roofers, tree trimmers, electricians who could help restore my poor house to normalcy. Monday the electrician repaired the wiring and installed a new breaker box and called the City for inspection. The inspector arrived midday Tuesday and called Oncor to install a new meter and turn on power. It took four phone calls to get them there by Wednesday at 5:30 and there were thanksgiving and a hot meal that evening, six hours shy of a full week!

My insurance adjuster arrived from Chicago Thursday and had a check cut for the full amount of the claim, less my $1300 deductible, without holding back the depreciation portion until work was completed. My new air conditioner is installed and paid for, as is the electrician. Carpentry work took a little longer, but the estimate was well within the total claim amount. 

No one was hurt during this storm and inconvenience is secondary. A silent house in a long dark night is a great place to reflect on your relationship with your Protector, your Comforter, your Eternal Companion. Through His grace, I had the money for the insurance premium and the deductible, I was guided to competent, trustworthy workers for the repairs and met four very nice neighbors, one of whom was a new widow who could use a friend. God is good indeed.

Unknown Assets

            I used to read those occasional announcements in the newspaper, listing unclaimed assets available to unknown heirs and daydream I’d find my name listed somewhere within that magic list. I always wondered how anyone could have unknown relatives who could carelessly leave money in a forgotten account. How could you misplace a sum of money so carelessly?  For sure, I knew exactly how much was in my wallet or bank account any given day.
            The state posted these legal notices to give unknown heirs one last chance to claim their inheritance. If no one spoke up before the deadline, the gift would revert to the state. Many people did as I did, never really believing, sort of like wishing on a star. Most folks probably ignored these lists, figuring they'd prosper on their own. but most investments have an expiration date and expire when you do. They can't be spent across the border.  A few may see the list too late; they find they could have been the missing heir, but missed the deadline. Heirs Unaware!
           The Holy Bible is brimming with promises, offering membership in a family with untold wealth at the fingertips of all who ask. Receive everything due you as heir! Upon your request to the Owner of All There Is, He will add your name to His Book of Life, making you co-Heir of All There Is. He also declares there will be a deadline for any such claim. Don’t wait too long. Don’t be an Heir Unaware.

             

       
            Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that 

    `    `  do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief 

            approaches and no moth destroys.                 Luke 12:33

Who's the Boss?

         

Looking Back, Looking Forward

            If you live as many years as I do, I pray they are a joy, not a burden. Simply put, I pray you chose God, our Living Father, as your Companion, Teacher and Savior. That’s the only way I know for you to reach your last days on earth contented, eagerly awaiting your homecoming to the mansion He has prepared for your eternity with Him and your family who preceded you in claiming their place with all the Saints from the beginning.

            Just think what a thrill it will be to meet even one person, your favorite that you’ve read about in your Bible! To ask Elijah how his faith could have been so quickly swallowed up by fear for his safety just after he had called down rain, then fire from heaven to consume his sacrifice to the Living God after the hundreds of heathen priests had failed! Or to thank Mary for her meek obedience to God’s call to bring forth the Savior who redeemed us all.

            And to greet old friends, whom you now learn to your surprise and joy, did not ignore your fervent words about this Lamb of God who gave Himself to share eternity with anyone who asked.

            This world and all its challenges, pain and fears will fade from your memory and seeing loved ones you had been missing, even visits with the wise King Solomon or Paul, who brought, for the first time, Life to Gentiles—all these thrills will pale at sight of Christ Jesus, who loved us so.                         I can hardly wait! 

   
     



           

A Bad Day

 Feeling rained on? Having a terrible, horrible, no-good day? STOP! Take a deep breath and look around. What’s going wrong? Think: what’s behind the mess you woke up to today? Surely you haven’t done something you regret? Look in the mirror and examine your heart for any misstep. Forgiveness is only a breath away, and the discomfort fades fast. Sometimes God sees us heading for deep water and puts a stumbling block in our path.

Nothing comes to mind? You’re pure as the proverbial driven snow—this time. Maybe things have been going so great you felt unbreakable and now you’re shocked to find trouble still knows your zip code. Have you shown gratitude for those good days provided by your Creator or have you begun to think you’re smarter than you already decided you were? Has He gone silent lately, thinking you had forgotten Him?

Since we humans tend to talk to God only as a last resort, sometimes it takes a little “special effort” for God to remind us He’s there, waiting for us to look up. Sometimes we willfully make a poor decision and before rescuing us, our Lord lets us experience a teaching moment, reaping a bit of the chaos we’ve sown. A parent often chastises a thoughtless child and a classroom does have tests.

Not you? You’ve probably been praying daily for some time about your spiritual growth, wanting to offload habits holding you captive, or you just want to know God better. You can’t find God’s campus anywhere in your Google search and you’re just not fond of the preacher at the church around the corner and there’s no spirit summer camp. You’re frustrated—why hasn’t He sent you a text or voicemail message?

You have faithfully prayed and listened and waited—and nothing! In the meantime life moves on and you haven’t noticed any change. But God lives outside of time (He created time, remember?). Maybe your clock isn’t in synch with His, your perception is skewed. Maybe He decided to teach you patience and grow your trust through roadblocks you’ve been blaming for the delay in your progress.

Had you been keeping a prayer journal recording your most fervent prayers over time, one future day weeks, months or years later as you reread those pleas for growth you realize many habits you once struggled with are faint memories, your rush to anger is gone or at least dimmed. On that day you would see how far you have come from your former messy life and could see more clearly your final destination in the Home being prepared just for you in Heaven.

Free from Gravity

            This January it was time to replace my power-lift recliner. I have already worn out three. But I now needed a little more help, something easier on my miserable old knees, something to improve the quality of my sleep and add a little more comfort to my days.

            And found it. At a price I formerly thought I never would have paid for both a sofa and chair. And after sitting down in it, I didn’t even ask the price for such a (miracle?) chair! I had seen zero gravity chairs in luxury catalogs but never aspired to own such a Cadillac caliber place to park myself. When I compare my lot with many other retirees who need but could not buy the comfort they need, I am blessed beyond all reason in my family, my pension and Medicare, enabling me to live so comfortably.

            And as I weightlessly (and at my size that’s a miracle, folks) float back into a reclining position, it seems to be a metaphor for my last decades as I gradually moved forward and closer to His image, more deeply in love with Christ Jesus, who so greatly loved me and so very gradually, faithfully began to change me, oftentimes without my perception. All my little changes, occurring bit by bit, imperceptible to me as they took place, unaware of any movement as I now am while gliding ever so slowly toward the desired place I need to be.


            Thank you, Lord.

           

My 3 a.m. Conversation with God

 Usually, I like to think of myself as an encourager—in writing, at least.  Face to face, I don’t come across like that. In person I seldom seem to get deeply involved with individuals; maybe because I’m not around other folks a lot and the truth is, I’m deep into my 80s now; I don’t know many people of my generation and there are none close by, so there’s that ugly phrase “generation gap”.

I was in my 40s before I began to learn to connect with people, and even then, my written words proved more effective. After all, it’s only in the most recent decade of many that I have seen myself clearly enough to admit at last that I was average at most things, inferior in others and excelled primarily in only one: the use of written words. With pride now limited to one area of my life, pride must be limited to only this one small area of my life.

My usual blog entries begin with bits of my history at a time when I learned a new spiritual truth, and as I find myself going back to reread them and reminding myself, relearning those life lessons (all too soon forgotten in the hubbub of daily life) and admiring the words God gave me to share. I guard against ego which would have me marveling at my insight at having answers to life’s problems. I know I don’t, but I imagine my reader may have as short a memory as I and might also appreciate a reminder.

As I write--and reread--these words, I can hear my Father’s voice, (not mine). When a computer glitch wipes out a page of His wisdom, knowing my unreliable memory can never retrieve those words, I breathe an instant prayer and begin typing and often the page is somehow quickly redone, often better than the original!        

At 3 a.m., however, a news reel before my eyes documents details, decades of repeated failings and my unkind thoughts toward people whose actions I disapprove of, (regrettably long after I invited Jesus into my heart) and instantly I remember that loving “the world” or “mankind” can’t replace love for an individual, misguided or heedless though they may be.  Who am I to think I have answers for others? My heart races as I wonder if I’m a sham, a hypocrite pretending to be His child? When I see Him, will He turn me away as a deceiver? And I feel the chill. 

Yes, I have experienced many miracles and blessings, but were they the result of someone else’s prayers for me, rather than my own prayers being heard? Why don’t I pray more? Why do I dare judge people no worse than I? When dawn arrives, usually I can dismiss the late-night attack and move forward, doing what I know how to do and praying for my life to grow more pleasing to God. And put aside--until the next assault on my faith--any doubts I have, and remember a phrase I began to use some 40 years ago: Don’t doubt your faith; doubt your doubts.

The morning I listened to Dr. Jeremiah’s Overcomer broadcast and Peace flooded my spirit as I received God’s reassurance. I was reminded of the disciples and the people God used mightily in their weakness. I remembered my blog about hypocrites. I had written “I am a Saint-in-Training. If and when I behave like something else, then I am a hypocrite”.     

           

Lessons Learned by Looking Back

            Looking back, way back, I can see the overall landscape I walked through more clearly than I could when I was stumbling through dark days in a fog of worry, which I nurtured as though it was a treasure. Think of the famous picture of two pairs of footprints in the sand, changing to one pair illustrating those times when instead of walking with you, He carried you through the worst times while you were unaware. Now I can see His footprints next to mine.

            Throughout my life, I managed from time to time to get a new glimpse of this great God who created me. Each new insight seems to overwhelm me for a time. Until I get used to this new kernel of knowledge. Before long, I seem to file away that new aspect of my Holy Father, and too often begin waiting expectantly for another crumb to drop from His table. In a way, it's as though I'm climbing a ladder, except I tend to doze off instead of reaching the next level.

            On looking back, I can see myself slumbering through daily life on autopilot when I should have been eagerly looking for the Lord’s next revelation and praising Him for the blessings already filed away.

            When I actually take time to inventory the riches provided by His love, my eyes are filled with images proving His provision, His power, His passion for His creations: a bird in spring bringing food to her hatchings, a bee who somehow knows to collect pollen from a flower which results in honey, a busy ant working in concert with its army as an example to me to be more industrious. All these things remind me of His loving care and make me feel safe in His arms. I’m comfortable and familiar with this God.

            Other images remind me of His great power and my heart thuds in my chest to see signs of God’s power: a mighty waterfall roaring over a cliff, a lightning streak burning anything it touches, crashing thunder vibrating in the pit of my stomach, a tsunami (thankfully experienced only through a film), the nothingness left behind a tornado, the comets whizzing through space toward earth which He diverts and saves our world while we cruise through our day unaware of the dangers swept away from our path.

            And yet most days I go through my day, barely remembering to say hello to my Heavenly Father and forgetting, ignoring the great punishment this same God could bring to me (which I deserve) and the horrific punishment Jesus suffered so I may escape my fate.

            I startle in horror when I am suddenly aware of Almighty God. How dare I ignore His presence, His ownership of this world and its inhabitants? I comprehend anew this God controls my very existence, my next breath of air, and His great love is equaled by His standard of perfection. How can I daily live as though ignoring Him is an option?  Our next world, whether a palace in His presence or locked away forever in an eternal fiery darkness, will depend on whether we honor and obey, or turn away from His hand reaching to bring us to safety.



            He says, "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be 

           exalted in the earth."                                       Psalm 46:10 New American Standard


            Notice He doesn't say exalted "by My people", He's talking about all of us on that day, believers

            or not prior to Judgment Day. He is a fierce God, an awesome. fearsome God to those who 

            don't answer His call. Ready or not, it's coming!

    
            It is written: "'As surely as I live,' says the Lord, 'every knee will bow before me; every 

           tongue will acknowledge God.                      Romans 14:11, New American Standard

    
          He says give me your heart now; waiting for Judgment Day will be too late! Hosanna to the 

          God of All There is!