The Day After

The day after. Expectations that were left unmet. Wondering what the next steps should be. The pieces were in place and everything was ready. Except no one showed up. I know that God has given me a message and a passion. What I don’t know is how to promote myself. Ask anyone—they will tell you that the topic of bullying and helping victims to find their voice is so valuable. But no one showed up to hear what I have to say. I don’t plan on giving up, but I do plan on figuring out how to move forward without feeling like I’m not the right person for the job. It’s easy to tell myself that folks just don’t want to hear my message. So after waiting nine long months for the moment that never came, I will wait some more…

Uncle Dave

            My Uncle Dave died. He was married to my Dad’s baby sister, the youngest of the eight in their family. Uncle Dave was sweet and kind and he always made me feel valued and loved. I didn’t stay in touch with my Uncle Dave or my Aunt Bevi. I actually haven’t seen them for fifteen years. It isn’t because we didn’t love one another or that there were relationship barriers between.  Nothing except distance. I feel sad that I didn’t even know Uncle Dave had been sick. He was  97 years old, so it shouldn’t be surprising to me. I just wonder how families drift apart. How did I get so disconnected from people that have meant so much to me?

            Every day, I think that I am going to do a better job of letting those around know how important they are to me. Yet, I have allowed fifteen years to slide by and I never even checked to see how my Dad’s sister and her family were doing. I stay in touch with some of my cousins through social media, but it is not the same. Time with family should be valued. Wonder why it takes a death to feel this lesson?

            Rest in Peace, Uncle Dave. You were one of the sweetest guys I have ever known. Sending hugs and prayers to my Aunt Bevi. They lost a child to cancer just two years ago. He was only a few years older than me. Life is precious. Stay connected to family. It matters.

Gold Dust: What Really is in the Pot at the End of Life’s Rainbow

            My Dad was my hero. I loved him dearly, but he was never around. I think that might have made me long for him more, but nevertheless he taught me much about what was most important. He taught me by his example of how to walk in integrity. He also taught me by his mistakes. I learned by his disappointment at the end of his life that maybe he didn’t have it quite right. Dad strived to be a man of values and strong morals, but he was always chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. When he reached the dusk of his life, he realized that the pot was empty, and he was very sad. Dad ended his life with regrets and a lack of contentment. Although he never voiced them out loud, I knew.

            My Dad thought that having money was what was most important in life. A good-sized bank account meant yearly and sometimes extravagant, vacations and never having to do without. Yet there was a huge price tag. He hardly knew me. Dad was what folks call a “workaholic.” He was at his retail clothing store at least 65 hours each week. Sometimes more. He never heard me sing in a choir performance. He never watched me march in the band during football games. He often missed my birthday. It didn’t really bother me, because I knew that he was working to provide a better life for his family—and we did have truly nice vacations.

            What Dad missed, though was that the end of the rainbow did not hold a pot full of treasures. Instead, life’s journey is about stopping along the way to gather the gold dust and small nuggets on the path. A life of contentment is not something to reach. It is not a someday event. Contentment comes from finding joy in each of the little things along the way. Watching a sunset, hearing a baby laugh, sharing a meal with family and friends, bringing to the table the first ripe tomato from the garden—these little nuggets of gold are what fill the pot at the end of life’s rainbow.

            My Dad missed the joy. He missed the laughs and the simple pleasures. He missed them because his focus was beyond the present. He never knew how to be in the moment. My Dad didn’t know how to just be still and listen to the rain on the windows. He didn’t know the exhilaration of sledding down the hill in our own backyard. He didn’t know the sensual, almost orgasmic thrill of the first bite of s’mores fixed over the burning leaf pile—or even the sense of gratification in finding just the right stick to roast the marshmallows. He missed all of that because, bottom-line, he was more concerned about his bank account. When he got to the end of his life, he knew it. He knew what he had missed and he knew there were no do-overs. My Dad ended his life a sad man who knew the truth about the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

            I am grateful for my Dad in so many ways. He taught me much about life and about caring about people. He taught me about integrity and how nothing was more important than being honest and taking responsibility. He taught me to believe in myself (although the lesson didn’t stick too well with all of the other baggage blocking his frequent lessons). My Dad also taught me by his opposite example, to gather the gold dust along the way. His sadness at the twilight of his life was the loudest message that I received from him and his greatest gift to me.

            There is no pot of gold waiting for us at the end of life’s journey. What there is , however, is an empty pot that can be filled with each grain of gold dust found along the way. I have learned to be still and to be in the present. I have learned to marvel at the smallest of things. I have learned to gather each nugget along the path so that when I reach my destiny, my pot will be overflowing. The pot at the end of life’s rainbow is not a destiny, it is the end of a journey of a life well-lived. Thank you, Dad. I love you and miss you every day.

Don't Throw in the Towel Yet

            I know when people say that it must be a “God-thing” not everyone understands what that means.  Today was living proof for me of how God’s hand is in all that we do.  I spent a few hours working on my latest book.  It’s a novel and taking me way longer than I had anticipated.  I am used to the quick turnaround of children’s books.  I sit and write for about twenty minutes and then it’s there—a creation borne with little time spent.  Not so with a novel.  I am about ¾ completed, but getting rather tired of the whole project.  Anyway, after I finished my daily addition, I was feeling pretty disgusted with the book.  Who cares what a Principal’s life is like anyway?  Who wants to read a Christian romance novel?  Is it too cheesy?  Maybe I have too many characters and not enough depth.  Maybe it is too confusing and I should just give it up.  If I am tired of writing it, who would want to read it?

            Then within an hour after thinking these thoughts, my phone rang.  The caller ID said it was coming from Meadville, PA.  That is where I was born and raised.  That is, and always will be, my hometown.  I wondered who was calling me from home?  I have no family left there.  It was a literary agent.  I had requested some information from a Christian publisher last week, just in case someone might be interested in my book.  They were following up my inquiry, but I had no idea they were from Meadville!

            I told this lady that I was ready to throw in the towel, and she reminded me that maybe this work was for me and not anyone else.  The title is “It Matters To This One.”  This lady, who doesn’t know me at all, says, maybe this work is because it matters to you.

            I am thinking it is just too ironic that this company is housed in my hometown.  It is too coincidental that I am ready to throw in the towel, and the phone rings, giving me hope that my writing might have importance.

            Then I remember that I am partnering with the Holy Spirit as I write.  To throw in the towel is a bit blasphemous to say the least.  How can I give up, when I haven’t done this on my own?   It would be wrong to partner with someone and then say, I give up.

            So call it Providence.  Call it a coincidence; or call it a “God-thing.”  Whatever it is, I guess the proverbial towel remains un-thrown.

Rescue Me, Please!

Today, I spent my time between filling out job applications and trying to locate a publisher – someone – ANYONE who would be willing to take a chance on promoting what I have to offer.  What I want is someone to just call me on the phone to say, “Linda, I just read your books and I LOVE your writing.  We want to sign you on a contract.”  Or, “Linda, of course we want you to teach for us.  We are looking for strong Ph.D. candidates for this position.”

           

But having to go out and find the openings is overwhelming.  It feels like I am 10 again and my Mom tells me to clean my entire room.  I don’t know where to start, and so I just dump all of my drawers in the middle of the floor and then burst into tears because it is just too much to do.  Too many decisions – keep, sell, throw away?  It’s all too much in one giant heap and it won’t go away until I deal with it.  All  of it.

 I stopped my job hunting and instead watched a movie while doing an on-line jigsaw puzzle.  I am much better now.  I still want my Prince to come and rescue me, but alas, that will not happen.  I wonder why I keep hoping anyway?  Sigh.

Tomorrow will be another day.

Grateful

     I am sitting at my laptop, staring at an amazing photo of my daughter and her husband and their daughter.  It is taken at a distance, and they look like shadows in a forest with the sun glistening like diamonds through bare trees.  The sky is an azure blue, which makes for a striking contrast.  As I gaze at this photo, tears of gratitude are streaming down my face.  I have no idea how I managed to be so blessed.  I have certainly done nothing to deserve the joy in having such a beautiful family.  Having grown up in a rather dysfunctional home, I longed for knowing the love of kindred souls.  We may not be as close-knit as many other families that I know, but this picture reminds me of God’s goodness.  I pray that my daughter and her family will remember who they are.  I pray that they will be reminded that all of their blessings come from Him.  I pray that they will raise my grandchildren to know Him and want to serve Him.  While these are unanswered prayers at the present, I am ever hopeful that something will stir in their hearts to draw them close to Him once again.

Blushing Bride at 60

            In just a few more days, I will be getting married for the third time (divorced and then widowed).  As they say, “third time’s a charm,” and I am truly believing that in this case there is some real truth in that cliché.   I am hopeful that our rather long engagement (over three years) has prepared me for what I know will be some hurdles.  After all, I have been through this twice before.  I have learned from living for over six decades that one thing that a wife cannot do is change her husband.  I have learned that what makes a relationship blossom is giving heed to the work of genuinely communicating.  I have learned that forgiveness is a most powerful source of healing.  I have learned that a desire to grow together is what holds a marriage most tightly.  I have also learned that without God at the center, few marriages can survive.

            What I love about Jon is his expectation to be a better person tomorrow than he is today.  One cannot hold this value and stick rigidly to strong opinions and always having to be right.  We have known each other for over six years and we both are not the same people that we were when we met.  But more importantly, we both expect to be different in the future as well.  When two people expect to change, then no difference of opinion can become a stronghold.

            Jon is blind.  Choosing to marry a man that cannot run to the store to pick up a forgotten item or to make me coffee in the morning was a huge decision for me.  While Jon is visually impaired he has a deeper understanding than most others I have ever known.  His insights are a source of strength and value that I hold dear.  I can’t imagine any situation without hearing his wisdom and thoughts.  It took me awhile to get used to this hurdle, but there are no longer any doubts -- just pure joy at knowing we get to spend the rest of our lives together.

            I am trying to not stress about wedding details, although having a wedding two days after Christmas can be a source of much busyness.  Out of town family members will be joining us and I pray that I will have time to enjoy their company and not be distracted by other things to do.  This wedding for me has to be on a foundation of being-ness rather than doing-ness. 

            I am grateful for promises of a future.  I am grateful for my adult children who will put aside their personal opinions out of respect for my happiness.  I am especially grateful for knowing that together, Jon and I are better people.  To me – that is the best reason of all for a marriage. 

Being Sad

Sadness is an emotion that I don’t like to embrace.  The sadness road is scary for me because it reminds me of a very troubled and dark time during my teen years when sadness drifted into depression which in turn, led to very real and very serious suicidal thoughts.  Now, I am mostly upbeat, optimistic, and joyful, so when a genuine reason to feel sad comes about, I don’t much know what to do with those feelings.

Tonight I feel sad.  I am sad about a part of me that feels lost.  This part of me that really was much of my identity for about 4 decades is fading.  This part is not really who I am any more and I am sad about that.  When I am around others who excel in this arena, I feel even sadder.  I think about what might have been had I chosen to focus more on this part and less on all of the rest.  I didn’t make that choice, and I know it was the right thing to do, but I didn’t count on losing this part of me that used to be mostly me and now is not.

It’s ok to be sad.  I can be sad and not fear a tumble down into the abyss again.  I’m just not very good at sadness.  I don’t like it much.  I am a fixer.  I always think there should be a way to piece together the brokenness.  But there really isn’t.  This is the new me – the result of decisions and choices that I have made to put my energies in other directions.  Joy comes in the morning.  It always has.  So for now I will feel into the sadness and be grateful that I can and know everything is still ok.

Jesus was sad when his disciples couldn’t stay awake at the most horrifying time in his life.  He knew what kind of torture and death was imminent and asked His closest companions to pray with Him.  Instead, they fell asleep.  And not just once!  Even after he woke them up and asked them to stand with him, they slept again.  I cannot even fathom that level of sadness.  I think sometimes we are sad when we realize that no one can restore or prevent the unfolding of life.  Allowing ourselves the right to feel sad helps us move forward.  So for tonight, I am just going to be sad.

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday to me!!

I learned today that there is just a little curtain between my steering wheel and the dashboard in my car.  I was on my way to the airport. 6:00 AM and quite dark out still.  I was opening my crunchy peanut butter Cliff bar and WHAM! It fell right out of the wrap and slid into this secret abyss behind my steering wheel.  

I was on my way to Tim Horton's to get a coffee. Not that I had to have coffee, but I didn't have any ones for the tip that  I would want to give to the shuttle driver for helping with my oversized-overstuffed suitcase.  I was leaving town for eight days, but I think I could manage for eight months with all I was hauling along with me.

While waiting in line, I was able to wriggle my naked Cliff bar out of its hiding place, so grateful that it wouldn't be stuck there in the Park & Go lot for eight days -- melting in the Indian Summer sun.   Then when I went to pay, the drive through guy at Tim Horton's tells me the car in front had paid for my order.  I still needed change and asked him to break my 5 for me and needing to appear more grateful, say "it's my birthday!"

The Tim Horton's guy wishes me a happy birthday and I'm on my way.  When I arrive at the Park & Go, I find an easy parking space and wish my car a happy stay there for the next eight days.  I am the only rider in the shuttle to the airport.  The driver does not respond when I point out the most gorgeous sunrise.  I wonder what it would be like to shuttle folks to and from the airport all day long.

I arrive at the United Airlines ticketing area and there are about 40 people in line to check their baggage.  Good thing I had an early start.   I move to the kiosk to pay for my suitcase, praying it makes the connection to Colorado Springs with me in Denver.  Can't wait to see my kids and celebrate my birthday with them tonight.

I move back to the long line that isn't really moving.  After about 10 minutes, my name is called and I walk past all of these people and check in .  The United ticketing lady apologizes for my wait.  I wonder what all of those other people are thinking about their longer wait.

Next is TSA.  I am hoping the agent holding my driver’s license notices it's my birthday. He doesn't.  But he tells me I have priority clearing. No shoes off. No need to pull out my Baggie of essential oils or my iPad.  Not sure how I managed priority. But glad to be on my way.   Now I'm on the plane, willing my bladder to wait so I don't have to disturb the handsome young man with his laptop next to me.  I swear I chose an aisle seat, but somehow it's the window.  Looking at clouds and praying for bladder strength.  Happy Birthday!

Warrior Wonderings

I wonder about what it means to have God as my buckler.  I looked up the meaning of buckler, and it is not synonymous with shield because it is really too small to be protection from a sword.  Instead, the buckler is used as a way to deflect punches and sort of a distraction so that the other hand can have a stronger offense.  In other words, instead of the buckler being an instrument of defense, it is an aid to the offense.  Psalm 18:30 says, “As for God, His way is perfect:  the word of the Lord is tried:  He is a buckler to all that trust in Him.”  This says the word of the Lord and then the next sentence starts with “He”.  We know from John, Chapter 1 that Jesus is the Word.  So this means that Jesus is a buckler to all that trust Him.    And since the buckler was used to deflect punches and blows, I am ever grateful that Jesus is my buckler.  He knows when the blows are coming before. I do. 

So I looked up this word “buckler” and I found in 2 Samuel 22:31 almost the same verse!  How about that!  I love this passage starting in verse 30:

“For by thee I have run through a troop:  by my God have I leaped over a wall.  As for God, his way is perfect; the word of the Lord is tried:  he is a buckler to all them that trust in him.  For who is God save the Lord?  And who is a rock save our God?  God is my strength and power: and he maketh my way perfect.  He maketh my feet like hinds’ feet:  and setteth me upon my high places.”

Then back in Psalm 18:2 it says, “ The Lord is my Rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler and the horn of my salvation and my high tower.”

Seems like we need to remember that we need the whole armour.  In Ephesians 6:16, it says:  “Above all, taking the shield of faith wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.”  Notice the words “Above All”.  This buckler is what gives strength to the opposition – when it is time to fight, our faith is our buckler.  Thank goodness that is the Faith of Jesus Christ, because if it had to be on my own source of faith, I would be knocked out in the first round.

Decisions

Making decisions is what I do for a living.  Making decisions for everyone else, that is.  However, now that I am faced with a decision that will impact the rest of my entire life, I feel totally immobilized.  The fear that it is the wrong decision and one that I will regret keeps rewinding the “what if” loop in my head.  It is almost amusing that I am so well-equipped to make multiple decisions daily that come from my gut and are hardly ever second-guessed, and here I sit at a crossroads waiting to hear God’s voice and He remains silent.  What I know to do is absolutely nothing until I am sure, and this is such a difficult and unfamiliar thing for me to do.  I am NOT suited to doing nothing.  I am a doer.  I get things done.  I make things happen.  But for now, I need to become patient.  I need to just be.  And wait.  Breathing in the quiet and turning indecision into peaceful being.  This is certainly out of my comfort zone, but the stakes are pretty high.  I will be resting in the promise that truth and a worthy and right decision will happen, just not in my timing, but His.

Enough is Enough!

Got the news today.  It is wrong on so many levels, that I don’t even know how to begin.  This is my 21^st year as an Elementary Principal, and prior to that I was a teacher for six years.  I substitute taught for six years, and taught pre-service teachers as adjunct faculty at Ohio University also for six years.  In other words, I have been in the educational field for a long time.  What I heard today cuts across everything I know about child development and what helps and what hurts children.

For YEARS, we have known that the muscles in the eyes required for focusing on print do not fully develop, particularly for boys until around age eight.  Yet we expect ALL five year olds to be readers.

For YEARS we have known that a preschool experience is vitally important for children to be successful in school, and yet, unlike our global competitors in Europe, we do not offer a free government-supported preschool opportunity for all children  up to age six as they do.  For EVERY child!  Completely paid for by the government!  Only about half of our children in America make it to a preschool because it is cost prohibitive for the other half.

For YEARS we have known that retentions harm children and do not typically help.  Study after study has consistently shown that a retention beyond Kindergarten rarely helps and most often causes drop-outs later in life.

For YEARS we have known that some children have multiple learning interferences that we call disabilities and we provide them with additional support and resources.  Good things have come from the No Child Left Behind Act in that we no longer separate our learning disabled students and instead offer them an equal education with supports, but they are called disabilities for a reason.

We expect all children to make one year’s growth in one year’s time.  Except our children with disabilities.  We have to make them grow way MORE than one year’s growth in order to catch them up.  So let’s see how this makes sense – our brightest and best grow one year.  Those that need multiple repetitions and variations, and most likely a slower pace to catch on have to double or triple the expectation of those without disabilities.  In other words, the disabled students have to do two to three times MORE than those who are not disabled.  Its not Rocket Science, here folks!

Now it seems this is not enough.  Our legislators have created the Third Grade Reading Guarantee and they don’t seem to know or care about what children need. 

If a child is not able to read in Grades K-3 according to standard, teachers are to create a RIMP – a reading improvement plan, which is a rather detailed document showing what interventions and supports are in place to help students catch up.  Students, often where Kindergarten is their very first schooling experience, are labeled within the first 30 days of school as in danger of failing.  Teachers must make sure parents are aware and they and the parents have to sign the document so that we know that they understand their child could be retained in Third Grade if he/she doesn’t catch up.

But the news today caused me to write this.  Now, even students with learning disabilities will be retained in third grade if they do not pass the state test.  Even if our learning disabled students make a whole year’s growth in one year’s time, this is not enough to “close the gap.”  Somehow the legislators believe retaining an eight or nine year old who already is well-aware that they are not keeping up with the rest will fix things.  Let’s ensure our struggling learners feel most like failures by failing them in Third Grade.

Should we scare them more about the test?

Maybe we should learn from Finland – the world’s finest educational system by all standards.  They do NO formalized testing until students are at least twelve years of age.  If our teachers were able to actually TEACH and not spend the entire first quarter testing, maybe we could close the gap for more.  Weighing the pig over and over does not make it grow fat.  Testing our kids does NOT help them become readers either.

Is anyone willing to stand up to our legislators and say enough is enough?

Sounds of the Night and of the Day

This morning as I got ready to take my early morning jaunt, I reached for my Nano and God (LOUDLY) said, “Leave it!”  Of course, (because as my Mom always said that I “would argue with God”), I said, “Really?”  He again just said, “Leave it.”

So, even though I had just charged it up, I longingly put it back on the china hutch, and went out into the morning without my usual tunes to keep me company.

Several blocks from my house, I heard the lonely cry of an owl.  I stopped and listened intently for a bit and saw it fly from a rooftop to a tree, still screeching its eerie and desperate call.  It was still dark out, and this screeching crashed into the night with such fervor and echo.  The sound was so deeply mournful and with such an imploring reach.  I found myself wishing for the daylight so the owl could finally rest.  It made me think of the verse in Psalms 30:5b – “weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”

Within a few more blocks the sun was just beginning rise (behind the clouds this morning, however) and the daylight was breaking with the sounds of happy birds chirping.  I am not an expert in bird sounds by any means, but I sure can discern the difference between the lonely, desperate-sounding screech of the night owl and the joyful songs of the day birds.  And then, I heard the morning doves.  

They sing their sad songs when rain is coming.  Their song is melancholy, but it doesn’t split the stillness as the owl’s screech.  The morning dove is a gentle reminder that sadness can still be a part of the day as well, but our joy comes from the Lord.  I wanted to read the rest of the passage in Psalms after this morning’s lessons:

“O Lord my God, I called to you for help and you healed me.  O Lord, you brought me up from the grave; you spared me from going down into the pit.  Sing to the Lord, you saints of his; praise his holy name.  For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night but rejoicing comes in the morning.  When I felt secure, I said, ‘I will never be shaken.’ O Lord, when you favored me, you made my mountain stand firm; but when you hid your face, I was dismayed. To you, O Lord I called; to the Lord I cried for mercy; What gain is there in my destruction, in my going down into the pit?  Will the dust praise you?  Will it proclaim your faithfulness? Hear O Lord, and be merciful to me; O Lord be my help.’  You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart might sing to you and not be silent.  O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever.”  Psalm 30:2-12

Thank you, Lord for teaching me the joy of spending the morning with You.  Weeping may be in the night (or even some in the day) but hope springs forth as we place our thoughts on You.  Praising You Lord is why we are here.  Thankful for yet another day!

What Would I Give Up?

            What would I give up?

            I have often found myself comparing my talents with that of others.  One would think after all these years, I would get it!  One day, I asked God why none of my talents were so superb that using them would knock the socks off of His people.  His reply?  What are you going to give up?

            The very first time I had an inkling of the innate gifts that I had been given was during the fall of my Senior year of High School when I was chosen to go to Regional Band.  There were about 10 of us in my section (I played alto clarinet, but the section also included the bass and sopranos).  I hadn’t looked at the music until 5 minutes before tryouts for our seating and placing in the State Band.  The first two chairs got to move on to State.  I made third chair.  When the director there asked me how much time I practiced, I sheepishly admitted that I hadn’t.  The first two chair placers looked at me, horrified, and the first chair said, “I practiced at least an hour 3x per week for months!”  I remember so clearly (this WAS 42 years ago!!) thinking, wow, what would I have had to give up to put that much time into practicing?  And wow!  Think what I could have accomplished if I had practiced even a little?  But, I knew then that playing alto clarinet was not what I wanted for my life’s ambition, so I chalked it up to a possibility, and that seemed to be enough at the time.

            Fast forward to now.  I love to sing.  I love to play my guitar and I love even more to be a Praise and Worship leader in our church.  This is by far one of my greatest joys (outside of my grandchild, of course).  But I am not a big name with CD’s that others are clamoring to purchase.  I don’t get to travel outside of the walls of our small church to lead enormous groups of people into Hillsong,-style worship.  I get mad at myself for not putting in more time to build my skills.  But I am blessed nonetheless.

            I love my job as a Principal.  I have been an Elementary Principal now for twenty years.  Two decades.  I think I do pretty well.  But I will never be Principal of the Year (although I WAS nominated once!)  What would it take to receive that honor?  What would I have to give up to get there?

            I love children.  They have always been my passion.  I am a kid-magnet.  Children come to me wherever I am.  I think they can feel my kid-friendly energy and they know that I am safe.  I am love to them.  Pure joy for me.  I think I have the skills to be a top-notch children’s expert.  But what would it take to get there?

            I love to write.  I actually just finished my third children’s book and I have laid out an enormous amount of money for a real publisher for the first two.  I might be on to something there, but could writing be my livelihood?  What would it take?  What would I have to give up?

            I’m good with numbers and accounting.  My parents owned a clothing store, and I worked in accounts receivable all through High School and College breaks.  My Mom told me that I had a flair for bookkeeping.  I hated it!  What good is a flair for something if you don’t enjoy it?  But it was nice to know I could have done something with those skills  -- if I had wanted to.

            I love to bake and I really love to try my hand at cake-decorating.  I am just pitiful at it, and while a class to learn how to make those roses and basket weaves is certainly on my bucket list, I won’t be opening a bakery any time soon!  I was honored that my middle son begged me to make his wedding cake this fall.  Truly makes a Mama’s heart sing to know how love covers all – even when the icing doesn’t!  I wish I could say yes, but what would I have to give up to make it as perfect as I would want it?

            I love to speak to women about God and His amazing love and desire to be our Abba – our Daddy.  When I went to Women of Faith events, I felt in my heart –I  could do that!  I have what it takes.  I have overcome great heartaches and pain and used devastating life events to mould me into something worth sharing with others.  I know I will never be invited to stand on that stage, because what would I need to give up to get there?

            So here I am, often feeling like I could really do something to make my life have such purpose that everyone would know it. 

Or, ---

 I can be EVER so grateful that God has gifted me in so many amazing ways -- not because of me, but because of HIM!    I know now that I really don’t want to give up any of them to favor one over the rest.  I will be content to let others take the stage and the limelight because I am not going to give up any of my gifts.  Not a single one!  I am content to be in the middle all the way.

I will, however, learn how to make those perfect icing roses!

My Compass

            I often wear a necklace with a compass on it.  I really like this necklace because it reminds me that I always need to be aware of the direction I am heading.  I have spent far too many days going the wrong way and losing sight of my destination.  Scripture tells us that the way is narrow:   “But small is the gate, and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it”  (Matthew 7:14).

            Putting my compass on in the morning is a gentle reminder that I need something outside of myself to stay on track.  I wonder how I could ever forget this, but somehow, I do.  Sometimes I get in God’s way and forget to connect with Him.  I forget to ask; I forget that it is never my own thoughts that bring me to the place I really want to be.

            One would think the memories of the painful events of my life would be enough to remind me to stay on the narrow path, but it is truly amazing how quickly I can erase those thoughts when the “stuff of life” entices me to take a shortcut. 

            While we now use our GPS tools to get us to our desired destinations, the compass I wear is a visible reminder that without direction, I am lost.  I have spent far too many days beating down my own paths, thinking I could find a better route to take.  Experience tells me otherwise, but it is the reality of His presence in my life that whispers the reminders that I need to stay focused on His map for my journey.  When I stay on the path, the Godly “Trip-Tik” that HE has determined for me, I realize that the planned stops along the way are amazingly important. 

            I am grateful for my compass necklace, and while I might not think much about it during my day, when I put it on in the morning and take it off again at night, I am reminded that my life coach-tour guide is ever with me to keep HIS purpose in focus for my journey. 

Just Like the Dog

Today, Jon called me and asked me to hurry and come help him because his dog, Sable had slipped out of her collar and had run off.  Jon lives on a busy road and he is blind.  I rushed to his house and as soon as I was pulling into the driveway, I saw Sable a block down the street, very close to the busy road.  I called her and she ignored me.  I threw the car into park and grabbed the collar and leash from Jon.  As I called her name, Sable ran away from me.  This time she ran right into the road, and thankfully, the cars missed her.  She took off through some yards and each time I got closer, she ran some more.  Finally, many blocks and roads away, she let me grab her and put her collar and leash on.  When we got to the house, I yelled at her and told her she was a bad girl and needed to go to her bed and lay down.

Instead, she kept coming to me, expecting me to love on her.  I told her she was a bad girl and to go lay down.  She stuck her nose into my face and her look said, “tell me that you love me!”  But I was angry at her and didn’t want to forgive her for scaring me so much.  Those sweet, adoring eyes got to me, and I gave in.  After about a half hour of her licking and kissing me (and bugging me non-stop while I was trying to watch a movie), she finally went off, satisfied that I did still love her.

But then I heard her getting into something.  When I ran to the bedroom, she had found a box of chocolate covered raisins that Jon had since CHRISTMAS!  I don’t know how many she ate – but both chocolate and raisins are toxic for dogs.  I pray she will be fine through the night.

This started me thinking about how much I am just like Sable.  I go and do the exact thing I know I shouldn’t and then want God to show me that He still loves me.  And He does, yet often within minutes, I go and do something else that is toxic to my well-being.  As the Apostle Paul says in Romans 7:15 “I do not understand what I do.  For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.”  And 7:19 – “For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do – this I keep on doing.”  Yep!  Just like the dog – she knows she shouldn’t run away and into the street.  She shouldn’t eat foods that are toxic and will kill her, but she does it anyway. 

As soon as things are back to normal, we want to know – am I still loved?  Did I stray too far this time?  I don’t know why we do those things we know we shouldn’t.  but I do know that we have a loving Father who will, with wide-open arms, receive us back each and every time!

Artios

Today, I was thinking back about raising my son for five years without his father.  I wondered how in the world I ever managed to accomplish things – like get him through Driver’s Ed, girlfriends, and college visits.  When I think about doing these things, it feels overwhelming to me, even though I already actually did them.  I then realized that I was not really on my own.

 The word “artios” came to mind.  This Greek word is really only used one time in the entire New Testament.  It is translated “perfect” in 2 Timothy 3:17 and it is used to describe the purpose of the verse preceding – “All scripture is given by inspiration of God and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction (which is) instruction in righteousness.” 2 Timothy 3:16.

Then verse 17 says: “That the man of God may be perfect (artios), throughly equipped (Exartizo) unto all good works.”

This word artios is used to describe a ship that is ready to set sail – everything is ready and on-board for the voyage.  The other way the word artios is used is in describing the perfect fit of the ball and socket joint in the hip.  If there is the slightest misalignment in that joint the person suffers the most excruciating pain.  The fit has to be absolutely perfect for the hip to work properly.  This is the word “artios” (Wierwille, 1971, p. 90).

The word “throughly” is not the word thoroughly (which auto-correct keeps making me retype!).  Throughly is an inside job where thoroughly is an outside job.  For instance – one could wash their hands thoroughly, but one cannot wash hands throughly -- meaning both outside and inside (Wierwille, 1971, p. 91)

So the purpose of scripture is to make us perfect and throughly equipped  for good works.  Like the ship that is completely through and throughly furnished for a long voyage, putting the scripture into our hearts and minds prepares us for what life throws at us -- like a husband dying and leaving a teenaged son to raise alone.  I know that I wasn’t able on my own to get through all these things and many others since.  As I make a decision every day to put God’s Word first in my heart and mind and to stay connected and abiding in the true Vine of Christ, I realize that I have gotten through those things that  now seem overwhelming and nearly impossible to even think about.  Artios.  Perfect.  Exartizo – equipped!

Wierwille, V.P. (1971).  Power for abundant living.  New Knoxville, Ohio:  American

Christian Press.

Hold Onto The Rock

Today during my morning jaunt, the wind was blowing from the Northwest.  I was watching a leaf being tossed about, sort of headed South, but not able to really move in any one particular direction. It was just going every which way. With a bigger gust, it slammed against a rock and just stayed there.  I realized how very much I am like that leaf – pushed and shoved by the winds around me.  They come from every direction, and like that leaf, I can spin in circles trying to make my way.  But when I hold onto the rock – the Rock of Christ, I can stick there and can just be present.  Today, my prayer is to be slammed into The Rock and hold on while the winds of this world gust and thrash about me.  I will remain centered on the Rock and not be carried about in a whirlwind frenzy.

Lesson from the Paper Delivery Guy

Lessons from the paper delivery guy.

Last spring, while headed out on my 5:15 AM jog, I noticed a rather beat-up vehicle driving in my neighborhood.  The driver and his passenger were cruising down my street and I suddenly felt a sense of fear.  Did I set my house alarm?  Am I safe in the dark and all alone?  It isn’t normal to see a black man in a beat-up car on my street.  Especially in the wee hours of the morning.

I checked in with God, and I felt a sense of peace, but I truly wondered why this guy was here.  Then I realized he was delivering the morning paper.  I still didn’t like it.  He didn’t “belong” in my neighborhood.  Especially in the dark.

I saw him the next morning, and then the next.  His car was loud and left noxious fumes, making it hard for me to breathe during my jog.  But I began to see his dedication to his task of delivering the paper.  No one else in my neighborhood is up at 5:15. 

I began looking for him each morning, expecting to hear his car – or smell it sometime in my 2 mile jaunt.  And he was there.  Every time!

It has now been a year.  This young man and his female companion have been delivering papers faithfully every morning that I have been out on my run.   What I thought was someone to fear turned out to be someone to respect.  Who else gets up before the sun to drive house to house?  What a tiresome job!  That takes dedication.

Now when I see (hear and smell) his car each morning, I am not worried about my safety.  I am instead, grateful for his work ethic and I bless his old jalopy that it will continue to provide him the opportunity to do his job. 

We often talk about appearances not necessarily being what they seem.  A young black man, seated shifted to one side in his beat up, loud and smelly car in a nice neighborhood could spell trouble.  Or it could mean – just dedication to a rather thankless and monotonous job.  I think others could certainly learn from his example.