Quills For Christ

2011-07-10T14:04:00.000-07:00

I'm Chosen!

2011-07-10T13:59:00.000-07:00

Sat down to some chill time with God. In seconds, he said, read Isaiah 49. Here's my paraphrase:

Listen up enemy
Pay attention family/friends/folks-who-wanna-put-me-down
Before I was born, the LORD chose me.
While I was in my mother's womb, he recorded my name!

I'm his
and he's going to display his glory through me!

I know who I am

Do you??

Our Meddling God

2010-06-23T05:25:00.000-07:00

Haggai * 1:1-11

The prophet dragged his sandaled feet across the parched ground, worn from the unanswered questions taunting his thoughts. Another poor harvest. A sigh birthed itself in his empty belly, sped through his heavy heart and burst from taut lips.

“Haggai, Haggai, where is that God of yours?

“Be still,” the prophet growled. “The LORD gives and the LORD takes away. His name is blessed forever.” He approached an unfinished structure, reaching out one hand to caress the hand-hewn stone.

“He’s sure doing a lot of taking now, isn’t he? First, he drags you all off to Babylon. After your return, which you insist was God ordained; your neighbors gave you so much flak that you stopped building this temple to your generous God.”

The taunts continued. “Let me think…oh yes, that was 14 years ago, wasn’t it? He really is some rock and fortress…shield…yikes…gotta run…see ya…”

Haggai welcomed the silence.

“Good morning, Festive,” A resonant voice replaced the high-pitched whine so recently vanished. “Why the long face?”

“My name is a mockery.” A short, unpleasant laugh burst from Haggai’s tight lips.

“Why do you say that?” God asked.

“We have no cause to celebrate.”

“Why not? Are you not back in the land of your fathers as promised?”

“Yes, but it’s been much harder than we expected or imagined it would be.”

“How so?”

“The people work so hard for so little return,” Haggai complained. “And here the temple sits…unfinished.” He slapped at the unresponsive wall.

“But their homes are beautiful,” God pointed out. ”Filled with all the latest interior decorating fashions.

“But they tell me there’s no money left over to put into the temple after meeting their basic needs,” Haggai explained. “Harvests continue well below expectation.”

“I’ve noticed that,” agreed God. “They plant so much and harvest so little. And no matter how much they eat and drink, they’re always clamoring for more, running after the latest delicacies.”

They stuff their closets with clothes and moan for more. Money evaporates like water in their hands.”

“They’re hard workers,” Haggai grumbled. “King Solomon promised in his proverbs (14:23) that all hard work brings a profit, but we feel like we’ve been spinning our wheels here. Year after year our harvests fall far short of projected returns. It’s frustrating.”

“Give careful thought to your ways,” warned God.

“What do you mean?” asked Haggai.

“I’ve had to hamper their efforts.”

“You, Lord? You’ve done this?”

“Yes.”

“Why, Lord?”

“To get their attention.”

Haggai rubbed his furrowed brow. “I don’t understand.”

“Ah, Festive,” God sighed. “Life is so much more than the false security money offers, the temporary satisfaction of fancy homes and cars. I want my people to experience real life…life filled with abundance. The false must be stripped away to reveal the true.”

“How can we do that?”

“Finish my dwelling place”

“But Lord,” Haggai objected. “They have no time to spare for building and guarding against hostile neighbors.”

“Not in their own strength…no.” God gentled his voice. “Have you forgotten how King Jehoshaphat beat three enemy armies?

Haggai rubbed his chin. “You instructed him to send the musicians out ahead of the army. They worshipped…you fought…we won.”

“Yes,” said God. “Worship maximizes my power while minimizing human challenges.”
“You mean it puts everything into proper perspective?”

“Exactly.”

“What do you want me to do, Lord?”

“Go to Zerubbabel, the governor of the people, and Joshua, their spiritual leader, with this message. Remind them that I am the Almighty LORD and I am with them. Tell them to invest in my kingdom first and I will prosper them, in spirit first, and then in their labor.”

“Thank you, Lord.” Haggai bowed low. “I praise you and honor your great name.”

The prophet hurried to the governor’s mansion, stopping at the high priest’s house on the way. “Come, Joshua,” he urged. “I have a word from our mighty Lord. He is with us!”

* meaning – Festive

Motivation

2010-06-02T17:41:00.000-07:00

I admit...I am a tea-bag toting...Don't-Tread-on-Me flag waving...demonstrator for conservatism and liberty. But, under all the enthusiasm, my spirit stirs with unsettling thoughts.

Finally, finally, the body of Christ appears to be uniting. Did she unite when prayer was removed from school, then the Bible? Did she unite when America legalized the murder of unborn children?

She is uniting now...as our wallets are seriously threatened by higher taxes and more government regulation and control.

While I am all for reining in excessive government, I question the church's motives for reacting NOW. And, I question my own motives.

Do I want God to reign in America or the return of my former comfortable standard of living?

If God chooses to allow financial crises to awaken the lost...will my spirit sing "Amen" or grumble?

Serious questions for serious times.

Annoyed Delight

2010-01-29T07:41:00.000-08:00

His sleek limo drew up to the convenience store/gas station, overfilling the tiny parking lot. My mind jumped from worry over unpaid bills to annoyance at the car’s length and how other customers would have a hard time maneuvering around it.

The back door opened, unattended, and the rider stepped out. My breath caught and froze in my throat. Adonis, Prince Charming and the Ultimate Male all packaged in tailored comfort strode towards the door, opened it and moved to the cooler section. Moments later he brought two chocolate milks to my counter.

I rang them up in silence, head bowed to my task. When I lifted my eyes to give him the total, he drew a breath sharp into himself.

“Oh my dear. What lovely eyes you have. So blue and clear and…perfect.”

My stunned mind refused to process the compliment. First, why would this rich somebody talk to poor nobody me? Second, my work attire wouldn’t attract a lonely fly, let alone a man.

Our gaze met, held and locked. Time stopped. Worry fled. I, insignificant-cashier-of-a-gas-station-convenience-store ceased to know who I am.

“Please,” he coaxed with a smile as broad as Texas and teeth as white as Montana snow. “Come away with me.” He held out his bronzed hand.

Reality vanished as I lost myself in his gaze. Dumbly I placed my chilled un-manicured hand in his large, warm one and allowed him to lead me to his limo. He opened the door, ushered me in, slid next to me and closed the door behind us.

“Drive on,” he said with a cheery wave. The driver asked for no directions. Perfect Man offered none.

Within moments, we pulled up to a Tudor-styled mansion, black beams stark against gleaming white. I followed my tender captor into the house and down a long, spacious hallway. He opened a far door, and stepped aside, allowing me to precede him.

A lone wine-colored loveseat adorned the room, facing a wall-sized screen. “Sit,” he invited, before joining me on the couch. With a gentle snap of fingers a movie began.

I gasped, its sound loud and echoing in the room, as my life from birth to present rolled by. He grasped my hand. When I lied, he squeezed it. When someone lied to me, he held it harder. My misdeeds, others’ misdeeds against me, happy times, sad times, embarrassing times all rolled, tumbling together like the Niagara, across the screen. Every hope and dream exposed. His grasp on my tainted hand never lessened. The movie ended, showing us sitting on the loveseat in the same room. I turned to him for explanation.

“Come,” he beaconed again. We moved to a side door and into another room. Gold velvet blanketed every wall, warming and illuminating the bareness. We sat together on another loveseat, of gold crushed-velvet.

Another snap of fingers. Another movie. His life. His hopes and dreams. Suddenly my figure waltzed onto the screen.

My back stiffened. My hands clenched. How did I get there? Why was I there? He placed an arm about me, pulling me back against him, giving my shoulders a gentle squeeze.

“Ah,” his contented sigh bushed my ear. “This is my favorite part.”

Rainbow of Life

2010-01-24T05:48:00.000-08:00

Pink-slipped.
My breath whooshes away like an unknotted balloon.
I sag into my chair, clutching the slender paper with numbed fingers.
Dreams derailed.

Orange-clad
Arms cross to pillow my aching head.
Drugged lethargy coaxes me into hopeless stupor.
Stunned surrender.

I tumble into nothingness
Landing on feet as silent as death.
I find myself centered in a gigantic room.
Mirrored walls catch and toss myriads of chandelier lights.
Brilliant bewilderment.

My dressed-for-success suit
Morphs into a luxurious satiny gown
With a rainbow of diaphanous scarves veiling its skirt.
Rapt wrappings.

A man approaches, impeccably groomed, perfect of form.
“Shall we dance?” His melodious voice ripples
Over my weary soul as a stream in the desert.
Gently he closes warm fingers over my own chilled ones.
Sensitive stranger.

He draws me into a waltz.
We glide over the polished floor, whirling and swirling, feet in perfect accord.
Matched mates.

He plucks a scarf from my skirt, enveloping us in its pinkness.
I am a child – carefree – dancing in my father’s arms.
I throw my head back as laughter bubbles up
And out of me, rolling all adult burdens away to oblivion.
Incandescent innocence.

Vibrant orange
Slides through his bronzed fingers,
The flaming brilliance pulsating youthful optimism.
Eternal energy.

Serene blue
Swaddles us in contentment as life dreams
Are met and filled, marching in expected precision.
Loving husband, good job, comfortable home.
Goals gained.

I glance down and gasp.
The gray of disappointment
Swallows innocence, energy and serenity.
My steps slow and I lose the timing of the dance.
Black sorrow and brown doubt fuse with the gray.
The tortuous trio circles me, weaving their lethal pattern,
Smothering my heart to
Dreadful despair.

Why did God upset the life’s harmony
By placing a defective newborn in my arms,
Knowing my mate would abandon us in the crisis?
I weep in my partner’s arms, my feet stumbling,
Forgetting the steps which had flowed from me moments before.
Piercing pain.

Gently we sway together as sorrow surges and ebbs,
Surges and ebbs through my heart.
He leads, I care not where.

I press my storm-ravished face into his chest,
His heartbeat thuds against scorched cheeks.
I sense his love as he imparts relaxed strength.
Confusion and doubt dribble from my heart.
He holds me tighter and tighter in his
Granite Grip.

Soothing green
Laves off desolation as we twirl the whys of life away.
I embrace the disappointments that shifted my vision from internal
To external, now conscious of other shattered hearts.
I laugh at hurts that sharpened my senses for other suffering souls.
Healing hope.

Yellow joy
Surges through my being as my partner spins me faster and
Faster, wrapping us in a cocoon of golden ecstasy.
Glorious glimmer.

Dazzling light Radiates from my unveiled dress, a beautifully
Beaded and flowing wedding gown.
I grin at my partner, who has led me with unfaltering steps
Through this dance of life.
My forever bridegroom.
Jesus.

I Cried...the Lion Died

2010-01-11T19:48:00.000-08:00

Tonight I watched Chronicles of Narnia on Disney. This is the 3rd time I've watched the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I enjoyed every moment until Aslan left camp to go to the Witch's and the girls followed. He told them to go back and they insisted on staying with him. He thanked them and said "I could use the company for awhile."

"I could use the company for awhile." That one simple sentence hit me with all the force of God's truth. Jesus wants to be my friend and he wants me to be his friend as well. I get so busy with life's busyness...I forget he wants my friendship.

He wants my friendship. Like old friends sipping iced tea on a hot day and reminiscing of memories...he wants to sit with me...share life with me...share secrets...mine and his.

Tonight I repented for taking for granted the best friend I've ever had...Jesus.

Pot Bellied Positives

2009-09-07T06:18:00.000-07:00

Every day when I stumble to the bathroom for my morning routine, I end up scowling in the mirror at what I see. Now, if I were thirty years younger, famous and living in Hollywood, I’d make front page news on the scandal sheets with my noticeable “baby bump.” Problem is, I’m passed 50, nowhere close to famous, and my “baby bump” is merely a postmenopausal pot belly.

This unwanted protrusion motivates me to shop with extra care, ever searching for ways to disguise it through careful clothing choices, scrutinizing how each piece hangs on my body.

Every glance in the mirror reminds me of this major flaw I possess in a society mad for flat abs. I feel the stares of others and sense their rolling eyes as they smugly tuck in their own oh-so-firm abs.

After three years of battling my aversion with weight loss attempts, I am determined to correct my attitude—once and for all. I decide Google search my predicament. I type “pot belly” in the search box (don’t forget the quote marks — very important), and up pop four choices:

First result: Pot Bellied People. Yech. This is just what I’m trying to escape! Quickly I move on to…

Second result: Pot Bellied Pigs. Carefully I research all the positive data. These pigs are intelligent and playful. That’s good. They’re also odor free and generally non-allergenic. Hmm. Interesting. But, do I really want to align myself with the porcine population? I forge on to…

Third result: Pot Bellied Stoves. Ah, Americana at its best. That useful, practical, heart- and-butt-warming American fixture of yesteryear. But do I want to be associated with antiques? In desperation I turn to…

Fourth result: Pot Belly Song by Freshlyground. I click on the YouTube link. The lead singer croons, Fat thighs, flabby arms. A pot belly still gives good loving. Oh yes! I have found my theme song. I watch the video over and over again.

This morning as I staggered to the bathroom and caught my reflection in the accusing mirror, my face scrunched up in familiar disgust—until I remembered the Pot Belly Song. A smile chased the frown from my face while I hummed the words; “Fat thighs, flabby arms. A pot belly still gives good loving.” Yep. I thank God for this brave, young band that has adjusted my attitude—permanently.

published on epiffunnies.com 7/09

2009-09-07T06:10:00.000-07:00

My "prayer closet"

and Happy Dog,

my canine

prayer partner!!

Pumpkin Perfect

2009-09-07T05:49:00.000-07:00

I watch Richard trudging through the pumpkin patch, in search of the biggest, roundest, most perfect pumpkin ever.

“Hurry up, Mommy,” he yells back at me while the crisp glory of autumn brushes past us in puffs of red, yellow and brown. “Here’s the best,” he announces, smacking his hand on a huge pumpkin before dashing off to examine another. His voice rises in tandem with his excitement. I smile, savoring our yearly mother and son tradition.

Richard’s birth in spring turned into my winter of bleakness when I could no longer ignore his lack of progress. With a heart laden in denial, I took him to our pediatrician. Severe mental retardation tagged him and dogged me.

The endless whirring of how and what and why buzzed my heart like locusts in a cornfield, consuming joy and hope. I tried to understand why God did this to me. I worried about my son’s future. I bled for my son, his father and his siblings.

I longed to shelter my son from the remarks of cruel or ignorant people. Even though he didn’t comprehend the comments, they cut me deep. It took many more tears and prayers to repair me. My son was fine.

As each year passed and other children progressed in the cycle of life with school, graduation, marriage, and having their own children, my heart suffered pained loss with each milestone never passed.

Yet, drop by relentless drop, my tears came to water the flowers of a new spring. Just as the crocuses stubbornly push their way through lingering snow every year, so faith began to press past worry to find the higher purposes of God. While the dogwood displayed its delicate white blooms against the stark dark bark, peace budded in me against bleak loss.

Summer warmed my heart as I learned to view my son through new eyes. I grew to see the hidden blessings of having an eternal child. My son will always believe in Santa Claus, reliving the magic of Christmas with the same zest every year.

Richard taught me God because he holds no grudges and knows no prejudice. His love remains unconditional no matter how much I fail him. His enthusiasm for life continues unabated.

“Mommy, mommy, I found it,” Richard yells, waving at me to come join him. As he has done every year, for many years, he has found the biggest, roundest, most perfect pumpkin ever. I hurry to admire his prize, hugging him close.

“You’re the best mom in the whole wide world,” he announces with loud exuberance, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “The very, very best! Thank you, Mommy.”

My heart overflows in a cornucopia of gratefulness. I have harvested the fruit of those summer years in the autumn of worship. My garden is filled with the vibrant, aromatic blooms of love, joy and peace.

Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with this rare gift you entrusted to me—my son. Amen.

Author's note: I do not have a mentally disabled son. I work in a group home of 6 mentally disabled men. I wrote this short piece of fiction in honor of the mothers of these men I have grown to know and love.

Is Anyone Frightened?

2009-06-10T07:31:00.000-07:00

Is anyone frightened out there? Our world is changing as fast as technology. The security of the USA I knew, growing up in the 60s and 70s, is gone. Any one of us could be blown into eternity at any time.

We are witnessing an unprecedented power grab in Washington D.C. The lust for absolute power which has been fermenting for years is finally making its move — against our citizens, our nation and our God.

When Ahaz…was king of Judah, King Rezin of Aram and Pekah…king of Israel marched up to fight against Jerusalem, but they could not overpower it.
Now the house of David was told, “Aram has allied itself with Ephraim”; so the hearts of Ahaz and his people were shaken, as the trees of the forest are shaken by the wind.
Then the LORD said to Isaiah, “Go out…to meet Ahaz…Say to him, ‘Be careful, keep calm and don’t be afraid. Do not lose heart because of these two smoldering stubs of firewood — because of [their] fierce anger…[they] have plotted your ruin, saying, “Let us invade Judah; let us tear it apart and divide it among ourselves…”
Yet this is what the Sovereign LORD says:

It will not take place,
it will not happen…
The head of Aram… is only Rezin
[ the head of Israel is only Pekah]
(kings yes, but mere men, pitting themselves against God)
If you do not stand firm in your faith,
you will not stand at all.

Isaiah 7:1-9

It is time for us to stop looking for pastors and priests to feed us God’s Word. We must study and learn for ourselves so we can stand firm in our faith no matter what the future holds.

Paul wrote:
I have learned to find resources in myself whatever my circumstances.
I know what it is to be brought low,
and I know what it is to have plenty.
I have been very thoroughly initiated into the human lot with all its
ups and downs
fullness and hunger
plenty and want.
I have strength for anything through him who gives me power.
Philippians 4:11-13

note — those incredible verses in Isaiah are JUST PRIOR to the prophecy of the virgin birth of Jesus. Praise God! He still reigns!

Memorable Quote

2009-04-24T05:40:00.000-07:00

“Only through our prayers can we effectively influence the decisions President Obama makes…for God is our Supreme Lobbyist.”
~ PPT member Barbara Brown

Memorable Quote

2009-04-24T05:39:00.000-07:00

"Jesus was not a theologian. He was God who told stories."
~ M. L'engle

Memorable Quote

2009-04-24T05:38:00.000-07:00

"A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit."
~ Richard Bach

Carolina Sweet T.E.A. Party/Rally

2009-04-04T16:05:00.000-07:00

April 4, 2009.

Today Bob and I attended a T.E.A. (Taxed Enough Already) party at a lovely park in downtown Charlotte. Only people who have known me from childhood will appreciate what a MAMMOTH step this was - getting out and actively protesting our government.

The keynote speaker was Mason Weaver. If you've never heard of him, google his name. It is well worth your time. Especially listen to his U-Tube on Forgiveness. Priceless.

I love my country. I distrust the government. I am ready to fight so our descendents can enjoy the freedom we have. The pen is mightier than the sword...in my case...keyboard!

LET FREEDOM RING!

The Righteous Will Flourish

2009-03-23T09:31:00.000-07:00

The righteous will flourish like a palm tree;
they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon;
planted in the house of the LORD,
they will flourish in the courts of our God.
They will still bear fruit in old age,
they will stay fresh and green,
proclaiming,
“The LORD is upright; he is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in him.”
Psalm 92:12-15

Here are some facts I learned about the palm tree:

· (Heb. tamar ) – the date palm. The palm tree
· frequently attains a height of 80 feet, but more commonly 40-50
· bears fruit after it has been planted six or eight years, and
· continues productivity for a century.
· trunk is straight, tall and unbroken
· crowned with emerald-green plumes
· leaves frequently reach 20 feet in length
· whispers musically in a breeze.
· it is a beautiful and useful tree.
· fruit-daily food of millions
· sap-wine
· fibers-woven into ropes and rigging
· tall stem-valuable timber
· leaves-made into brushes, mats, bags, couches and baskets.
· The, striking appearance of the tree, its uprightness and beauty, would naturally suggest the giving of its name occasionally to women (Tamar).

Psalms 92 pictures the righteous as a palm tree
· straight growth
· fruitfulness
· perpetual greenness
· height
· fruit-as far as possible from earth and as near as possible to heaven.
· elasticity of the fiber of the palm
· its determined growth upward even when loaded with weights.
· bears fruit well into old age
· palm a symbol of victory and peace

Now, this should greatly encourage those of us over 50!

Elder Wisdom

2009-03-10T06:29:00.000-07:00

The first time I met my uncle-in-law, I was slightly underwhelmed. Although pleasant, Uncle S bragged constantly about his two children, one of whom worked for NASA.
Each visit included a detailed rundown of their latest achievements. I found his bragging boring and slightly annoying. Soon, I dreaded any family gathering that involved Uncle S.
However, time and wisdom changed my perspective—and attitude. Uncle S’ motto was: Learn something new every day.
He took a mill job right out of high school so his higher education came in the form of voracious reading. He read in English and Polish keeping his mind active and productive all his long life.
I never heard Uncle S complaining over health, or the unfairness of life. I never saw him without a wide smile on his face. He was too busy learning and growing.
Without realizing it, I adopted Uncle S’s motto: Learn something new every day. I read. I write. I’m working on two foreign languages as well as sign. My late uncle-in-law is my example and inspiration.
Thank you, Uncle S.

Grandma's Trunk

2009-01-11T18:39:00.000-08:00

Impatiently, I struggle to move Grandma’s steamer trunk…again. After eighty-five years, the leather handles have long since rotted off, making any transfer awkward. Inwardly, I mutter against my brother, who insists on keeping the trunk in the family, but lacks storage space.

After a great deal of pushing and tugging, I stop for a break. My glance falls to the letters painted on the lid. ALA. Adelaide Leonora Angwin. At that moment, our shared blood transports me to her time.

Cornwall, England, 1922. Thirty-four year old Adelaide lifts a favorite print dress from its hanger, momentarily caressing the soft fabric against her cheek before placing it in her new steamer trunk. Straightening, her gaze drifts to nearby St. Michel’s Mount, framed by the open window. Suddenly, she is seventeen again, dashing home from a visit to the mount, daring the oncoming tide to cut off her return. Warm sand squishes through her toes as she flies along. The wind catches her laughter, tossing it high for the pleasure of screeching seagulls marking her progress.

Two days prior, she had met Andrew, her older brother’s friend. Andrew’s eyes spoke what his lips wouldn’t or couldn’t. Later that night a phone call confirmed her suspicions; he wanted to see her again.

Tonight, they’ll stroll together along the seawall after sharing tea with her family. Her impetuous race is a joy filled gamble that she can challenge the sea and win. Impossible to sit demurely and await his arrival, she must run, run, run until she has exhausted the tomboy in her and only proper young lady remains.

A lengthy courtship, marriage and a baby boy completed Adelaide’s life. Then the Great War came, forever changing the course of this happy little family. Her beloved husband returned from France wounded in body and spirit. He determined to put an ocean between war-devastated Europe and his family by relocating to America.

Adelaide reaches for her wedding portrait, ready to tuck it among her dresses. She pauses to examine the couple contentedly gazing back. Absently, her thumb strokes her husband’s face, up and down, up and down. A tear drops from her full eyes onto his merry ones. Ah, the blissful ignorance of that happy day, oblivious to approaching war drums.

I run my hand over those plain, white letters. ALA. What thoughts occupied Grandma as she lowered the lid, forever closing it on her familiar life in England, and knowing she would not to open it again until she reached America and her new life? How could Grandma pack her entire life into so little space? How could she select, discard, select and keep, realizing the finality of each decision? My mind mentally wanders through my own home. What would I take? What would I be forced be left behind? Could I possibly pack my whole life into one trunk?

Firmly, Adelaide lowers the lid of the trunk, its weight matching the heaviness of her own heart. She runs trembling fingers over the leather straps and handles. She sees her own life in the leather; nothing fancy yet strong and dependable. She touches the shiny brass lock and trimmings. Perhaps her future could be the same; new and bright? But can she find the courage to sacrifice familiar security for unknown adventure?

A new respect replaces former annoyance for my brave grandma and thousands of others like her, who resolutely turned their backs on the old familiar life to step into an uncertain future with only one hope; giving their children a better life. They came to America, knowing they would probably never lay eyes on their homeland or loved ones again.

I finally tug the worn trunk to its new resting place. Even empty, this trunk is quite heavy, indicative of its sturdy construction; much like the sturdy constitution of the great lady who used it.

No longer do I grumble under my breath over this unwieldy nuisance. With respect, I pat the lid in thankfulness for my brave grandmother who so willingly sacrificed comfort for a distant dream. And I am only one of the many who have benefited from her courage.

Thank you, Grandma.

Helping God

2008-12-31T05:35:00.000-08:00

God had promised Abraham a son. As the years rolled by, Sarah watched her husband’s hopes dashed and wept for his pain. Years later, a wise king would write “hope deferred makes the heart sick.” (Proverbs 13:12)
Sarah often mulled over the words God had spoken to her husband. “A son coming from your own body will be your heir.” (Genesis 15:4) That’s it! Sarah thought to herself. God promised my husband an heir from his body. He said nothing about mine.
It was the custom of the day that slaves were property, not humans, so any children they birthed automatically belonged to their masters. Sarah had been given a young Egyptian woman to serve her.
Sarah’s mind raced. All I have to do is allow Abraham to wed Hagar. She will be his lesser wife and her children will be my children! Surely this is what God meant.
She hastened to explain her interpretation of God’s promise to Abraham. In her love for her husband, she lay alone in their tent, sending him to procreate through her servant. Soon Hagar became pregnant by Abraham.
Mission accomplished.

Sarah’s daughter-in-law Rebekah also felt the need to help God achieve his purpose. While she was pregnant, she experienced so much movement in her womb; she went to God for answers.
God promised her “two nations are in your womb…and the elder shall serve the younger.” Genesis 25:23
Jacob was born after Esau and became Rebekah’s favorite. He hung around the home like a true mama’s boy while Esau became Isaac’s favorite, an outdoorsman—a man’s man.
Years passed without Rebekah seeing the God’s promise fulfilled. Then one day she overheard her husband asking Esau to hunt for wild game and make him a stew of it. Afterwards, he would bless Esau.
In those days, the firstborn son inherited most of the father’s property as well as the leadership of the next generation. But this is not what God had promised Rebekah!
She had to act quickly to help God fulfill the promise he’d made to her many years ago. Jacob, already skilled in deceit, had no problem following his mother’s scheme. He tricked his father and stole Esau’s blessing.
Mission accomplished.

Both women helped God, but at what a cost! 4000 years later, their descendents continue their hate war. God doesn’t need our help to fulfill his purpose or promises. Don’t panic at the 11th hour. Trust him and relax. He is the Almighty One.

Fountain of Life

2008-11-28T05:49:00.000-08:00

I stare into the fountain, transfixed. Cool droplets of water strike my hot cheeks, run down my neck and into my collar. It is so hot – so very hot. The years melt away until I am seven again.

“Elsa!” Mama’s frantic voice cuts through my joy.

It is the hottest July of my short life. My grandpa and grandma have gone far away. Next, Papa and Johann joined them. Mama tells me they are gone on an exciting adventure, but I know better.

I am young, but I have eyes – and ears. Every night I hear the urgent, hushed voices, planning, planning, always planning. Mama knows we will be next to go. Fear tinges her eyes and words.

The last time I ever saw Mama was as we crossed the town square together. The fountain waters beckoned me to come close. Without thinking, I plunged my hand into the wonderful, chilled waters. Soon, I had my face in the flow. Water poured over my hot body and down my tattered dress. Mama screamed for me to come away before the police came. I didn’t understand. I didn’t care. It was too hot. How could police be cruel to a little girl on such a hot day?

But they could and they were. They saw me and threatened with their guns. Mama threw herself on me. One bang and she lay still. She didn’t speak. Mama had left on her own private adventure where I could not join her.

The years lurched together. Of all the family, I alone survived. “You are lucky,” they tell told me.

“Not lucky. Cursed,” I replied. “Cursed to live in a world where humans continue to snuff out life without remorse. Babies killed before birth." A chill envelops me, piercing the humid heat.

Babies. I had one. “See, God has blessed you after much sorrow! Rejoice, Elsa!”
I scoff inside. God never blessed me with anything but sorrow.

My baby grew up to embrace the Jesus of her best friend. She talked about him all the time.

“He’s our Messiah,” she’d tell me. “He was born of our people. Born to save us.”
She loved to quote the prophets, especially Isaiah, as proof of his divinity.

This Jesus was born poor, loved by the ordinary folk but despised by the religious. Finally killed by his own people. My people. Some god.

My baby’s baby got cancer – and died. She held cradled the dead body of her daughter and praised Jesus.

Ridiculous.

“Mama, I want to go to the land of our fathers and plant a tree for my baby. Please come with me.”

We toured the “Holy Land” which made me scoff at life even more. Commercialism everywhere, trying to make money on this Jesus.

I watched my daughter change. Her sorrow melted away as she walked the streets her Jesus walked, head held high, in holy confidence and joy.

We went to Bethlehem. A church stands where Jesus was supposed to be born. No sign of poverty there. But my daughter could feel it. She could smell the animals and hay. She could live his rude birth.

As she bowed her spirit in admiration, I stood as straight as a steel arrow, staring ahead, seeing nothing. Without warning, my nose twitched. I sniffed, smelling something peculiar. Hay! Hay, and then sheep.

Sheep – the Passover lamb – the Lamb of God. In an instant, I understood his plan, as God swept the stupor from my dead heart with gentle fingers. A fountain of tears gushed from my eyes, as decades of hatred towards God, my captors, and life in general melted away.

A child’s delighted squeal jolts me from my reverie. Her golden curls bounce, glinting in the sun. Nearby, a policeman stands, smiling.

Carefully I place my seventy-seven year old feet on the rim of the fountain and step in. I hold out my hand, exposing my dark secret. With joyful abandon the child grasps it and we walk into the flow together. The policeman does not shout, nor does he threaten. No, with tears in his eyes, he salutes my valor, for he sees my brand – and understands.

Attitude Check after the Recent Election

2008-11-14T08:33:00.000-08:00

For all Christians who truly love the LORD:

The Body of Christ stands at a serious crossroads in this point of history. I understand 97% of America’s “black” population voted for Obama. For many “white” believers, who have heard a lot of dirt about Obama, this is inconceivable.

It’s time for the Body of Christ to step back and consider a few facts.

1. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.( Galatians 3:28 NIV) His body is not black, or white, or pink or purple. His body is the color of God. Surely, the God we love, is grieved when we judge our brother or sister by their skin tone.

2. The king’s heart is in the hand of the LORD; he directs it like a watercourse wherever he pleases. Proverbs 21:1 NIV God has used vile men to fulfill his purposes. God has used righteous men to fulfill his purposes. Whether Obama is a righteous man, or filled with evil, only God knows. But God will fulfill his purposes.

3. I am deeply concerned with Obama’s liberal viewpoints, especially re: abortion and homosexuality. Many scriptures point out God will not tolerate the murder of the unborn forever. Neither will he tolerate homosexuality forever.

4. For some, Obama is like King Saul. The people clamored for a king, so God gave them what they wanted. What Obama says publicly is what people have in their hearts.
For others, Obama represents all the repressed peoples of our country, finally getting their voice in government.

With all this in mind, I wrote a letter to a “black” sister whom I respect deeply, asking how Christians could vote for a man who will probably appoint two or more justices to the Supreme Court, setting the cause for overturning Roe v. Wade back for decades. She shot back a most thought-provoking question, asking why Christians depend on presidents and courts to restore righteousness to our land.

She went on to write, “Maybe our prayers ought to be targeted at Christians coming together to address this issue in a more effective way than judging each other.”

5. How easy it is to blame the failures of our nation on administrations, the government, the times we live in, etc. However, the blame starts with the Body of Christ. For it is time for judgment to begin with the family of God…1 Peter 4:17 God will judge “his kids” before the ungodly.

6. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one. I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. John 17:22,23) Jesus said this hours before he died for all of us.

Are the “white” believers willing to fellowship with the “black” believers? Are we in complete unity? How can Jesus come and snatch away his long-awaited Bride when she is snipping at herself?

The writer did not vote for Obama because of his liberal agenda. However, her “black” sister greatly changed her heart attitude with the challenges written above. If Obama’s administration does well, can I rejoice with those who rejoice? If his administration goes badly, will I weep with those who weep, or cast stones, saying “I told you so?”

God help us have pure hearts and clean hands. Each of us will stand individually before God. He will judge MY motives. I want my heavenly Father to tell me “well done!”
I willingly humble my heart before him, to advance his purposes, not mine. Anybody else with me on this?

Squirrel Wisdom

2008-10-08T20:44:00.000-07:00

Fall arrived two days ago in my part of the world. Although the trees have yet to change to autumn glory, we awaken each morning to a definite nip in the air.

Now, I don a jacket while drinking my morning coffee on my porch. I live at the end of a gravel lane. Directly across from our home is nice sized garden. I have enjoyed watching the elderly farmer plant his vegetables, lovingly tend them, and now—he harvests the fruit of his labors.

The man also owns several pecan trees, to the delight of neighborhood squirrels. Their home is a large tree on my side of the lane. For some time now, I have watched as they gather food for the winter ahead. And, believe it or not, I have learned a few things from my observations.

Squirrels have fun while they work.
Although gathering nuts is preparing for the future, they also enjoy the moment.
Squirrels work from dawn to dark, gathering their supply.
Work is a game with them. They run down and across the lane, seizing nuts and then scamper back to their home. They bounce about, flicking tails, chasing one another, and finally run to deposit the precious food in storage.
At times, the squirrels run up a telephone pole, dash across the wire and halfway down another pole before leaping into their tree home. They love to chase each other on the wire as they come and go.
Often they will run to the top of the pole to search for the whereabouts of the farmer’s cat.

Here is what I have learned from observing these furry, frolicsome critters:

Enjoy your work. It makes time pass more quickly.
Work hard to enjoy the return on your labor.
Learn to play. Chase your mate around the room. Joke with your friends. Life is hard enough. Put some levity into it.
Take a risk. The squirrels don’t have to run up the poles and across the wires to reach their home. They just do it because it is there. Let go, fly high. Do something others would consider foolish. Enjoy the heights.
Be on guard for anyone or anything that could steal your joy.

COME WITH ME

2008-09-08T12:06:00.000-07:00

“If anyone wishes to be a follower of mine, he must leave self behind; day after day he must take up his cross, and come with me”. Luke 9:23

As humans how quickly we focus on “negative part” of this verse. Breathing sighs of resignation we plod through each day, grimly enduring our own personal “daily cross” until we are consumed by the pain and struggle of our burden.

Have we ever read past those two words to the next phrase “and come with me?” God never intended us to endure hardship for hardship’s sake. He never planned on our being bowed down by the weight of the cross.

God’s cross is a form of fellowship with himself. Elsewhere, Jesus says “bend your necks to my yoke and learn from me.” (Matthew 11:29) No animals work closer than two oxen, bound together by one yoke. Either they will work in complete unison, or become chafed and sore.

God’s purpose is not the gleeful observance of his people suffering. God craves to be yoked with each and every believer, each child born of the Spirit. He craves the intimacy such closeness demands.

Yoked oxen are so closely bound they see and experience exactly the same. Both must turn as one. Both must walk at precisely the same speed. Both must raise or lower their heads at the same time.

God yearns after such intimacy with us. “Come with Me” he beckons. “Let’s walk this path together. I promise when you pass through the waters, I will be with you! (Isaiah 43:2) I’m holding your hand (Isaiah 41:13) and I am not going to let go!”

Yielded

2008-08-29T05:03:00.000-07:00

Numbed in spirit, soul and body, I pressed my face against the cement floor while The Lord’s Prayer played softly in the background.

Our Father….

O Father! Daddy! Papa God!

Hallowed be Thy Name…

I know You are holy, but how can You be just? If you are just, why didn’t you stop my husband from leaving? As a true Proverbs 31 wife I did all the right things. You say “the king’s heart is in the hand of the LORD and [You] direct it wherever [You please].” (Proverbs 21:1) Why didn’t you direct my husband’s heart back to the wife he vowed to love forever?

Thy kingdom come…

Yes, please come and rescue me from this mess. End the torture now. This earth holds no pleasure for me anymore.

Thy will be done….

Yes, do Your will! Surely it is Your will for my husband to return. Surely it is Your will for us to reconcile. Do Your will and bring him back.

On earth…

It’s real painful down here. I can’t think about spiritual stuff when my heart is breaking. How can I find heavenly peace in an earthly hell?

As it is in heaven…

Take me now. I want to die. I want out of this mess. I want to be in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread…

How am I going to make ends meet without his income? How can I survive alone?

And forgive us our debts…

Did I sin, God? Is it my fault he left?

As we forgive our debtors…

What? I have to forgive him? He cheated. He lied. He left. You expect me forgive him?

And lead us not into temptation…

I want to get even. How badly I want to hurt him as much as he has hurt me

But deliver us from evil…

“Vengeance is Mine”, says the LORD. “I will repay”.

For Thine is the kingdom…

O God, forgive my sin. Forgive these black thoughts. It’s not about me. It’s about You and Your purpose for my life.

And the power…

I know that You are strong enough to see me through this valley.

and the glory…

whatever happens, I bow my heart in humble adoration

forever…

from here on out, Lord

Amen.

As the last Amen of the prayer ended, pure peace settled over my body as a billowy cloud, soaked into my soul and rested in my spirit.

Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.
Psalm 126:5

The Privilege of Pain

2008-08-27T19:05:00.000-07:00

I want to know Christ
and the power of his resurrection
and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings...
Philippians 4:10

I very much want to know Christ more intimately and the idea of his resurrection power is very cool...but...the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings? That doesn't sound good at all.

Have you ever lost someone or something very dear to you? Who do you turn to at such a time?
One who has experienced the same thing, right?

I remember exactly where I was the moment I first thanked God for a divorce that almost destroyed my spirit...while praying with a woman going through the same thing...

My own suffering and experience gave me credibility in her eyes. While I prayed with her, my heart soared in thankfulness that I was God's hands and feet to a fellow hurting human.

The privilege of pain is twofold: Greater intimacy with our God and credibility to minister to others in like circumstances.

How ever did God manage to run things before I showed up to "help"?

2008-08-24T17:30:00.000-07:00

Have any of you readers watched a person dear to your heart go through a hard time? My dearest husband has been going through a rough period for about five years. The hardest thing to do is...NOTHING.

When God is working in the heart and spirit of our loved one, the best thing we can do is NOTHING...except PRAY. Especially we women...we want to fix everyone's boo-boos...
especially those of our spouse or kids.

The one clear word I heard from God about my husband's situations was "this is between ME and him." It was God's way of saying...keep your nose out of it! Or, in plainer English...BUTT out!

Well, I have cried and I have prayed. Occasionally, when my husband has asked for my opinion, I have given it. But, to date...I have NOT tried to FIX IT.

God taught me that when we try to "fix" situations...we are treading in His territory. Not a good place to be.

Take heart, Beloved. Continue to pray. Continue to wait. And always know that God is good! Always!

Broken Heart-Broken Chains

2008-08-23T07:10:00.000-07:00

Some wandered in desert wastelands…
They were hungry and thirsty,
And their lives ebbed away.
Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,
And he delivered them from their distress.
He led them by a straight way…
Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love
And his wonderful deeds for men,
For he satisfied the thirsty
And fills the hungry with good things.

Some sat in darkness and the deepest gloom,
Prisoners suffering in iron chains.
They cried to the LORD in their trouble,
And he saved them from their distress.
He brought them out of darkness…
And broke away their chains.
Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love
And his wonderful deeds for men.
Psalm 107: 4-15

Beloved Friends,
Do you have anything in your life that binds you as chains? Fear? Unforgiveness? Anxiety? Injustice at the hands of others?

For years I wandered in the wasteland of uncertainty and unworthiness bound by countless fears.

Then I was abandoned by my husband. I faced two choices. Dig an emotional pit to protect me from all the ugliness of life, or run to my Papa God. I chose the latter. Slowly, he healed all the heart wounds. Today I shout the above verses taken from Psalm 107 for their truth! Many bad things have happened in my lifetime………..BUT!
I give thanks to my LORD, my Lover, my Friend for HIS UNFAILING LOVE!

Cry out to the LORD. Only HE can break the chains that bind us and keep us from living the full, abundant life he promises!

God Works in Mysterious Ways

2008-08-22T19:12:00.000-07:00

When the LORD saw that Leah was not loved, he opened her womb, but Rachel was barren. Genesis 30:31

Numerous times in the Bible we see God “opening and shutting” wombs: Sarah, Michal, Hannah, Elizabeth, to name but a few.

After our marriage, I learned my first husband was sterile. I wasn’t upset when I learned the news because I knew God still had power to “open and shut” wombs. I fully expected God would reverse my husband’s sterility and we would have our own biological children to raise holy before the LORD.

Years passed. God did not answer my prayers or reward my faith.
Correction: God did not answer my prayers or reward my faith the way I expected him to.

Why? Because God knew the future and I didn’t. After 22 years of marriage, my husband abandoned me. In tears, I thanked God we had no biological children to suffer the pain of divorce.

Was I robbed of children? Absolutely not. I have mentored exchange students, prisoners, family members and others. So many young people call me “Mom” that when asked how many children do I have—my favorite response is “I forget.”

No More Fear

2008-08-22T18:47:00.000-07:00

Soon after my 1st husband abandoned me, God spoke the title words to me VERY clearly: NO MORE FEAR. At the time, I thought he meant no more fear of my husband. But what he meant was, no more fear in my life...Period.

After an unwanted divorce, God began to gently work on every OTHER fear in my life, and today....he is working on another!!! Fear of technology!!! YUK!

For a long time, I have maintained a "ten-second rule." If I don't get the technology in ten seconds...I'm outta here!

I have started this blog for the purpose of interacting with, encouraging and learning from my sisters all over the world! To do so, I must master some technology...so hang on and let's enjoy the ride!