Barking, Hissing, or a Gentle Answer?

He’s barking at me in the kitchen as he chops meat on the cutting board. Heat rushes to my face. I feel like a cornered cat with my back arched and fur sticking out. 

Defensive thoughts race through my mind—running into a traffic jam of angry words in the back of my throat. Just as I’m about to “hiss” angry words—I hear a familiar whisper inside my head. 

A gentle answer turns away wrath…

In a flash an old video reel plays in my mind’s eye. We’re standing in the kitchen—barking and hissing at each another. He leaves the house frustrated, slamming the door behind him. I collapse on our bed in tears, our angry miscommunication feeling like a bowl of tangled spaghetti.

“ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?”

His barking voice snaps me back to the present. I look at his face—contorted in anger. I feel the urge to defend myself tug against the whisper. It’s my moment of decision. How many times have I regretted not listening to that little whisper? I take a breath and send up a quick prayer for strength—to yield!

Immediately the traffic jam in my throat disperses. I feel “the fur” on my back go down as my shoulders relax. Another whisper floats by my inner ear. Love is patient, love is kind… I give in to the words, and I feel them as I speak.

“Yes, I hear you.”

I see a flicker of surprise in his eyes as we lock gazes. His inner battle plays out on his face as he weighs his decision. I hear the clock in the living room—the one we bought for our first anniversary so many years ago. Tick—tick—tick.

His jaw relaxes. “Well, okay then,” he says.

A gentle answer turns away wrath,
But a harsh word stirs up anger.
Proverbs 15:1, NASV

Afterthought… This is one of the times I succeeded in heeding “the still small voice” that some believe is God, me being one of them, but I did not learn to heed without failing. As the saying goes, I am a work in progress—as we all are. So, don’t go beating yourself up for failing to heed yesterday. (I’m talking to myself as much as you.) Today is a new day. Pick yourself up and try again!

“Supposing you have tried and failed again and again. You may have a fresh start any moment you choose, for this thing we call ‘failure’ is not the falling down, but the staying down.” 
~Mary Pickford

Mr. FLU: 7 Tips to Prevent This Unwelcome Guest

An unwelcome guest stopped by last week—and he won’t leave! He insists on staying and making me miserable. I hear he can stay one week or even two, more if my immune system is weak.

How did I manage to let him in my door? I’m not sure, but I discovered with a little investigating that he’s very sneaky—and quite the acrobat.

Mr. Flu propels himself at speeds up to 60 miles per hour in the sneezes and coughs of friends and strangers. He hides on surfaces for up to 8 hours waiting for his next victim. Any surface will do—door handles, keyboards, or countertops. He lurks, waiting for someone to pick him up. Then he latches on to them when they touch their face or rub their eyes—or worse. Unsuspecting victims inhale his vile mist and take him home with them!

Unfortunately, Mr. Flu may be with you a full day before you know it. Suddenly, you begin to feel fatigued and achy. Next the fever and chills set in—and your uninvited guest boldly makes his presence known!

What can you do to escape this unwelcome guest? Health professionals recommend the flu shot. If you decide to get one, remember, it may take up to 2 weeks to take effect—so you still need to exercise prevention.

Check out the following tips I've gleaned from my research. (For complete information, always consult your health care provider.)

My favorite tip is—SMILE! Smiling and laughter are proven to boost your immune system. So, whether you’re trying to keep Mr. Flu out—or he’s already moved in—watch your favorite funny movie or stand-up comedian. It’s the one remedy that’s sure to cheer you up!

In fact, I’m forcing Mr. Flu to watch cute animals doing funny things on YouTube while I drink fizzy vitamin C drinks. I’m pretty sure he hates it. I figure it's only a matter of time before he leaves... ;-)

More flu info:  www.cdc.gov/flu/protect/preventing.htm
More smiling benefits:  http://healthiermn.com/5-health-benefits-of-smiling

Sticks and Stones

The old childhood saying goes: “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”

Recently I experienced the cutting pain of sharp words. I lay awake at night struggling to stop the words from replaying in my head. Part of me wanted to forgive and let go—the other part wanted to hold on and smolder. 

One night I couldn’t sleep, so I got up at 3 AM to pray. I prayed for the person who hurt me, and I prayed for help to let go. As I prayed, this question came to my mind: If this were my last night on earth, what would I say to this person?

I opened my laptop and wrote an answer that surprised me.  Here are the words that came down my arms and out my fingertips:

May you sense the holy presence of God. May you feel His great love for you. You were born for a reason. God wanted you here. You are precious in His sight. He made you who you are, and He put you where you are for a reason. Never forget that—and never forget that every person that crosses your path was created by God. He wanted them here too.

If I am that someone, I am crossing your path for a reason. He put me here. Even though we are both flawed creatures—He loves us more than we can fathom—and loving one another is the best way we can love Him back. 

I wish only good for you. I pray for your health and well-being. May God bless you and grant you peace.

In the short time it took to type these words, I found the relief I sought. As peace settled over me, Jesus’ words came to mind: “Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who hurt you” (Luke 6:28, NLT).

Sticks and stones may break your bones and hurtful words may cut like a knife, but the Lord will heal the wounds we surrender to Him.

Monsters Under My Bed

Did you ever imagine you had monsters hiding under your bed when you were a kid? Did you ever lay awake at night paralyzed with fear? Afraid to breathe, afraid the monsters might hear you? I did! Unfortunately, my monsters didn’t stay under my bed—they followed me to school—and later hid in the trunk of my car and in the frozen food section of the local grocery store.

That’s the introduction to a speech I gave recently. Me speak? Yes, I know. I can’t believe it either! How did this happen, you ask?

A few years ago I joined Toastmasters to gain confidence and overcome my fear of people—all kinds of people—but scary people in particular. 'Editors' if you really want to know. This 'may' explain why I don't post as often as I originally intended, and YES, I feel terribly guilty about it!

What do we do in Toastmasters? Well, we don’t just sit around and toast bread, we actually practice the fine art of public speaking—and it’s said that most people would rather die than do this. So, I guess that makes me either very brave or very foolish—or perhaps bravely foolish! Either way, I’d still rather get up and speak in front of people than play with spiders—or stand on the ledge of a tall building.

Once in a while I bounce a speech idea off of a friend or family member. Often they ask me to send my finished script to them. Sometimes I do, and several of my blogs are even from speeches. BUT they have never seen me speak—because I never ‘let’ them!

After arguing with my internal fear-monsters, I decided it was time to give my family, friends—and you—a peek at what I’ve been up to these past few years. Yikes! Here goes... I invite you to click on the link below (or copy and paste into your browser) and sit-in on one of my speeches. Just so you know, my monsters are completely against this foolish idea!

“Monsters that Won’t Stay Under the Bed”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kLxYCbVMwY

I apologize, but the sound quality isn’t strong. It’s best on a desktop with good speakers or on a laptop with headphones.

Growing on the Inside

Do you ever feel like you’re not growing?

I always wanted to grow taller, and I remember how disappointed I was when I found out I’d actually get shorter with age. Although, I have to admit, I have grown more around the middle than I’d like—but that’s another subject that involves a four-letter word followed by an even worse eight-letter word: diet and exercise!

But that's not the kind of growth I'm talking about...

No, the growth I’m talking about is the kind that takes place on the inside—the kind that’s hard to measure, feel or notice. It’s like watching a plant grow. If we sit there staring at the plant, we won’t see anything. But if we give it time, one of two things happens, it either wilts—or grows. It all depends on whether you feed and water it!

Internal growth is like that. If we feed and water ourselves, we will grow! I realized that I was under the misconception that if I fed and watered myself I might grow—because I was surprised when someone noticed that I had grown!

For example, I joined Toastmasters a couple years ago because I wanted to grow and learn to communicate with more confidence. For six months I toiled on speeches and filled various meeting roles that required speaking in front of people—but I didn’t think I had grown much until our club president said from the lectern, “Remember when Myla used to be shy?”

My internal dialog went something like: Really? Wow! I sat there in total amazement with tears filling my eyes. I walked out of the meeting, but I felt skipping!

I also learned to watch-out for slugs that try to gobble-up the new growth on my plant—slugs of negative thought. A fellow club member exposed their sneaky ways when he said, “I wonder who’s speaking today?”

“Oh, I have to give a speech,” I mumbled.

“Don’t say that!” he said. “Say to yourself: ‘I get to give a speech!’ and say: ‘This is going to be fun!’ Lie to yourself if you have to, but say it over and over again until you believe it!”

I tried it—and it worked! Confronting the slugs of negative thought sent those cowards packing! By the time I stood up to speak, my attitude did a complete U-turn. I still felt nervous—but not paralyzed. I actually felt excited to share!

Earlier today I read an email from a woman who joined Toastmasters eight months ago. She wrote, “I feel stuck in the beginner phase...” Perhaps she can’t see her own growth because, like me, she’s been “staring at the plant” too much—or letting slugs chew on it.

In the beginning she reminded me of my cats when I’d get out the pet-carrier to take them to the vet—wide-eyed and ready to dart under a bed! Now she’s brave enough to let her sense of humor come out of hiding. She even ventured to share her values with us—not knowing if we agreed with her or not. That takes courage!

“I don't see you as a beginner,” I wrote back to her. “You have grown—and I can see it!”

The examples I gave relate to personal growth, but the principles apply to spiritual growth too. We may not feel like we are growing, but if we feed and water ourselves—and shun the sneaky slugs of negative or wrong thoughts—we will grow!

Peace or a Stomach Ache?

I have an ulcer. I’m in pain, and some people say it’s my own fault. This upsets me. I don’t want to hear it!

I woke up at 2 AM last night and mulled it over… and over… and over. I tossed and turned till 6 AM. It made my stomach churn even more. As the morning light crept into my room, I gave in to the idea…

Maybe it is my fault.

I don’t mean for it to happen, but somehow it keeps happening. I start doing something – a job, a project, a club. And before I know it, I’ve agreed to do too many things, and I’m overwhelmed with commitment.

I’m not doing bad things. More often than not – I’m helping someone. But If I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that I say “yes” even when the little voice in the back of my head says, “Are you sure about this?”

I say “yes” because I can’t seem to say “no” because another voice inside my head says, “You can’t let people down! Everything will fall apart! You can’t let that happen. Just push yourself harder!”

Then I’m trapped. I’m compelled to keep my word – even if it kills me! That makes my stomach churn… Ouch!

There is a better way, and I know it. It’s summed up in two verses:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,And do not lean on your own understanding.In all your ways acknowledge Him,And He will make your path straight.~Proverbs 3:5-6

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God which surpasses all comprehension will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.~Philippians 4:6-7

When I live by these principles – they work. My problem is… I’m like a person who throws a boomerang and forgets about it until comes back and hits me in the head – or in this case, hits me in the stomach.

When things are going well, I get comfortable and slide back to my old stressed-out ways. But the message my body is giving me is this: “Slow down, eat right, and take care of yourself or you won’t be able to help anyone!”

Besides, I can’t help everyone. That’s something only God can do!

Dear Lord, help me be still so I can hear Your voice over the din of noise in my own head. Please guide my path and give me wisdom to know when I’m supposed to help people, and when I need to let go and let them learn for themselves. Give me Your peace to calm my heart, mind, and stomach… And most of all, thank You for loving me enough to teach me this lesson… and for being patient enough to remind me of it – over and over again! Amen.

ALL I NEED IS YOU

Dad's Garden

Drive by my parent’s house during the growing season, and you’ll likely see an old man wielding a hoe in a large garden. If you pull in the drive way, he’ll amble over and engage you in a conversation like this:

“You wanna’ see my garden? I got this-here new hoe, and I need someone to ‘try it out’ for me.”

You look at the used hoe in his hand and think: New hoe? But you follow him anyway because he seems excited to show you his garden, and somehow you feel honored to be asked to “try out” his hoe.

“You gotta’ see my pumpkins!” He bends down and pulls back a giant green leaf. Underneath is the most beautiful pumpkin you’ve ever laid eyes on. And the reason you know that is — because he tells you so.

“Look at this. Whoo-wee! Ain’t she a beauty? Isn’t it the most beautiful pumpkin you ever laid eyes on? I’ll bet you she’ll make the best pumpkin pie you’ve ever tasted!”

After that you see the most beautiful zucchini, cantaloupe, watermelon, taters, corn, beans, tomatoes, cucumbers and carrots you’ve “ever laid eyes on” too!

While he’s showing off his produce, he also shows you his intricate watering system of little streams that guide the life-giving water to all his lovely plants. He complains about the weeds. “The dirty buggers are always trying to choke my plants!”

You’re not sure when, but another hoe appears, and he shows you how to use it to keep the little streams clear of weeds. “...otherwise, the plants will be puny and bear scrawny fruit,” he says.

Before you know it, an hour goes by, and he asks if you’d like one of his cookies and a cup of coffee. “I keep a stash of cookies and a thermos with me for just such an occasion.” So you follow him over to the shade and listen as he tells you about his garden, his two horses and half dozen cats, his last surgery, the engine he’d like to fix out in the barn, and how he tried to buy five cows at the auction and came home with seven…

Later, as you drive away, you look down at the box of produce on the seat next to you and smile. Those are the most beautiful zucchinis, cucumbers, and tomatoes I’ve ever laid eyes on!

As I think about my Dad’s garden, I wonder... If my life was a garden, would it be as healthy? Are my little streams clear? Or are weeds blocking the flow of life-giving water? Perhaps it’s time to get out the hoe and do some weeding — because the results are worth it!

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD

And whose trust is the LORD.

For he will be like a tree planted by the water,

That extends its roots by a stream

And will not fear when the heat comes;

But its leaves will be green,

And it will not be anxious in a year of drought

Nor cease to yield fruit.”

~ Jeremiah 17:7-8, NASV

The Dreaded "Uh Oh" Moment

Have you ever had that “uh oh” moment when you realize you’ve said, or done, the wrong thing? When I hear about an accident, say like a skydiver falling to the ground because their parachute failed. I often wonder if they had an “uh oh” moment somewhere on the way to the ground.

While I haven’t an “uh oh" moment that dramatic yet, I can tell about a few smaller ones I’ve lived through.

I had an “uh oh” moment shortly after my husband and I bought a used car. A queasy feeling came over me when we gave the guy our money. The deal seemed a little too good for a car that looked so nice.

A couple days later, I went in the post-office, and when I came out, the car wouldn’t start. I called my husband. And wouldn’t you know? It started for him just fine. Perhaps it was “operator error”— or was it? It kept happening to me, but not to him. Maybe the car just didn’t like me. So, we switched cars, and it started happening to him…

Then we heard a warning on the news to beware of buying “flood cars.” The cars look normal—but they never run right and even worse—they may not be safe. My stomach sank. We were the unlucky owners of a car suffering from the effects of being submerged in water. Over time nearly every sensor and electrical part in the car failed. The money we thought we were saving, we spent just to keep it running until we could afford to buy another one. By the time it was over—could have bought a brand new car!

Lesson learned? If you feel queasy feeling about buying a car—trust your gut—and do your research.

But how often do you jump out of a plane or buy a car? Not often—or maybe never. These kinds of lessons are easy to remember. In fact, we may never even have to learn them ourselves. Just hearing about someone else’s “uh oh” moment is enough for us!

But there’s another kind of “uh oh” moment we are doomed to learn from all by ourselves—and unfortunately—it’s the most common. It’s the moment right after you’ve said the wrong thing, and there’s an awkward silence… and you’d give anything to jump in a time machine and go back a few minutes.

I know my former neighbor wanted to jump in a time machine right after she asked me when my baby was due. The surprised look on my face must have tipped her off.

What’s the good news in all this? Believe it or not—there’s something great about the dreaded “uh oh” moment. The benefits may not be realized immediately, but I guarantee you will reap them in the future.

How? They make a bigger dent in your brain. What do I mean by that? First, memories actually make dents in our brain tissue, and second—it’s not possible for our minds to retain every detail of every event that happens in our lives.

Picture for a moment, that every event in your life is an e-mail. Your e-mail box contains millions of messages. There’s no way you can remember them all. It’s impossible for one of them to stand out—unless there is some sort of “attachment” to make it stand out.

That’s how our brain works. It retains a stronger memory of events with emotional attachments—and pain and embarrassment are effective attachments. They make a memorable impact on our brain. This increases our chances of learning from our mistakes—and reduces our chances of repeating them!

So next time you feel yourself floundering through an “uh oh” moment—embrace the embarrassment. It will make a nice big dent in your brain!

Like apples of gold in settings of silver is a word spoken in the right circumstance.
~ Proverbs 25:11

Heckle and Jeckle and the Big Risk!

Just for fun, I'm posting another speech I gave at my Gig Harbor, WA Toastmasters Club recently. I was working on Project #6, Vocal Variety. My purpose was to entertain by telling a story, while practicing my objective. The theme of our meeting that day was "cartoons," which reminded me of an incident when I was about five-years-old. The story went something like this...

I opened my eyes. The room was still dark, but with a hint of gray. I inched my body over the edge of the bed and lowered myself until my feet touched the floor.

I stopped and listened...

I heard my older brother breathing on the bunk bed above me. So, I crept to the doorway and peeked down the dark hallway toward my parents’ bedroom. Their door was closed. I felt a flutter of excitement! I wouldn't try if their door was open, even part way. I'd wait until next Saturday.

But now was my chance. I had been plotting this for weeks.

I still had to make it past my teenage sister’s door down the hall in the other direction. I was pretty sure her door would be closed, even if it wasn't she slept like a corpse. And I knew what a corpse looked like. My grandma worked at a cemetery, and I'd seen one.

I tiptoed past my sister's door, trying to miss the creaky spots on the floor. But I missed one.

Oh no!

I froze like a tree—trying not to breathe. I listened for a stir. All was quiet.

Whew, that was close!

I continued on my journey, only a few more feet to go and…

I stepped into the living room! My eyes scanned the dim room and landed on the object of my quest. There, resting under a pair of rabbit ear antenna, sat our black-and-white TV!

Some people had color—but not in our neighborhood. No matter. I walked up to the box with the shiny glass screen and turned the volume knob all the way down. And once again, I held my breath as I twisted the switch to the 'on' position. The faint buzzing sound of the TV seemed loud!

My heart raced.

Would my dad hear it?

Even from behind closed the door, sound passed easily through the flimsy walls of our house. I stood still, taking small shallow breaths, and waited. Nothing...

Finally, the TV warmed up and the picture came into view, nothing but fuzz. Oh, there had to be something on one of the channels! I carefully clicked the dial around to the next station and some funny looking bars came into view.

Well that was better than fuzz. I still had hope.

I clicked the dial around to the last channel—and my heart leaped like a frog! All of a sudden, I was staring at two black and white magpies sitting on a fence—talking to each other! I wanted to hear what they were saying!

Should I risk turning up the volume a bit?

I watched the the birds play around and tried not to giggle out-loud. Oh, how I had dreamed of this! But I wanted to hear, seeing wasn't enough. So, I reached out my hand to the volume knob, and ever so slightly, turned it up.

I heard the birds talking! They called each other Heckle and Jeckle!

I snuggled close to the TV, pulled my nightie down over my knees to stay warm, and looked up at the screen. I watched the naughty pair of birds and giggled quietly to myself. I was so enraptured… I didn't hear my dad walk-up behind me.

"What are you doing up at this hour watching that garbage?!"

I nearly jumped out of my nightie!

He reached over me and switched the TV off. "Now you get back to bed this minute you little whippersnapper!"

I jumped up and dashed down the hallway, slid under my covers, and pulled them over my head! I waited and listened to my father’s footsteps getting louder—bump, Bump, BUMP. He stopped outside my door...

I held my breath! The seconds seemed like hours before I heard his footsteps again, this time getting quieter—BUMP, Bump, bump. His door closed with a thud—and then I remembered to breathe.

I lay there with my heart racing. Was it worth it? Oh yes! It was worth it! And I've loved cartoons ever since!

Death is Inevitable, Dancing is Optional

A few years ago, work consumed my life. I juggled being a wife and raising a family with two jobs. My health and family suffered as a result. Then, one New Year’s Day something strange happened. Even now, I’m not sure if it was real or just a dream...

I woke up with a start—it felt like someone was watching me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Hmm, I must have dozed off on the couch. I ached with exhaustion. The last thing I remembered was mulling over my New Year’s resolution.

That’s when I saw him—a bearded old man him sitting in my living room!

“Who are you?” I said, my heart racing.

He held up an hourglass, and said, “Don’t you recognize me?” His eyes sparkled back at me from under giant bushy eyebrows.

“Uh… Father Time?” I asked.

“That’s what people call me, but that’s not my real name,” he said in a deep voice. “You can call me Bob.”

I felt like I needed something to calm me down, and all I could think of was chamomile tea. So, I said stupidly, “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you,” he said. “It runs right through me.”

“Wh… what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Dispatch sent me,” he said. “I heard you were struggling with your New Year’s resolution, and I came to give you some advice.”

“Dispatch?” My knees were shaking, but he seemed quite calm—as if this sort of thing happened all the time.

“Yes,” he said, “Michael and Gabriel get the big jobs.” He twirled his long beard around his finger. “At least I’m not Fred—the Tooth Fairy…”

My mouth fell open. That brought him back to the moment, and he gave me a piercing look.

“Well, you understand that I can’t give you a New Year’s resolution, per say, but ‘Up-stairs’ there’s a definite consensus on the subject. However, I am allowed give you some clues. It’s up to you to decide.”

“Okay…” I said studying his face. His skin looked old and young at the same time… weird.
“Here’s your first clue.” He cleared his throat and spoke these words:

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot…
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance…
He stopped and peered out at me from under his bushy eyebrows—as if he expected me to say something.

“Well, these verses are familiar.” I said timidly.

“Do you know why I spoke them to you?”

“Er… not exactly,” I said. “I’m not good at thinking when I’m nervous.”

“That’s normal. Now, consider them again carefully. What stands out?”

I whispered the verses over to myself while he waited. “Well, not everything on the list is inevitable like birth and death. Some of the things are a choice—like dancing.” Suddenly, I felt the fog lift from my brain. “Dancing is optional!”

“Ah yes, my little Grasshopper,” he said, “You’re getting warmer! The new year is a time to reflect, a time to assess where you are in the seasons of life—and consider what to do with the time you have left.” He paused, and said gravely, “If you died today, what would you regret?”

As I thought of the time I spent working—not spending time with my family, taking care of myself, or spending time with God —I started to cry.

“You’re beginning to understand, aren’t you, little one? You have been too busy, not saying no to anything.” He took an extra long pause, and said, “But have you taken time to dance?”

Somehow, I knew he wasn’t really talking about dancing—but before I had time to answer or blow my nose…

Father Time… Bob said, “I knew a man, a very busy man. Bryan Dyson was his name. He was the CEO of Coca-Cola at the time. He learned an important lesson—which is your next clue.”

His eyes focused back on me in that funny way that made me feel like he was staring at the back of my skull—only from the inside. Once again, he cleared his throat and spoke:

Life is like a game in which you are juggling five balls in the air—work, family, health, friends, and spirit, and you are keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four—family, heath, friends, and spirit—are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will become scuffed, damaged, or even shattered. In any case, they will never be the same.

My heart swelled as I listened—my chest felt almost too small to contain it.

“That’s it, my child,” he said. “That’s all I have to say. The rest is up to you.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. “I know what I need to do.” I said, “I know what I want to do!”

“What have you decided?” His eyes sparkled even more.

I felt a burst of energy and stood up. “I’m going to take time to dance with my family—we’re going to play and talk, and I’m going to listen! I’m going to dance with myself, go for a walk, get some rest, eat something good! I’m going to dance with my friends, give them a call—on their birthday, and invite them to lunch! And most of all—I’m going to dance inside, meditate, rejuvenate—and talk to God!”

“My work here is done!” He smiled triumphantly and stood to go.

I looked at him and realized I wasn't afraid of him anymore. “When you came, I felt awkward,” I said as I walked him to the door. “I didn’t know what to say…”

“I get that a lot,” he said with a chuckle.

“I asked you if you wanted a cup of tea,” I held out my hand, “but what I should have asked is—would you care to dance?”

He took my hand and twirled me around, and as he did, I closed my eyes and laughed. When I opened my eyes he was gone...

Scripture from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, NIV

Footnote: This entry is adapted from a speech I delivered on December 30, 2009. It was the first time I tried doing a skit. I played myself and the other character. I was terrified, but I survived, and my audience didn't pelt me with tomatoes!

Meaningless?

Day after day I read more discouraging news—job losses, war, flu outbreaks, and endless political infighting. I needed some encouragement. So, I opened up my Bible for my daily reading, and what did my eyes land on? The words of Solomon in Ecclesiastes, “Meaningless! Meaningless! Everything is meaningless.”

That’s not what I needed to hear!

Okay, so I caught him at a low moment. Solomon messed-up and disobeyed God. He was experiencing a time of sorrow and regret. Even the so-called wisest man who ever lived was a sinner. That’s no surprise—we all are. But still—here’s a man who had it all—wisdom, success, fame, and fortune beyond the wildest imagination. Yet, at the end of his life he says it’s all meaningless!

As I read on, I found this man—who didn’t withhold any pleasure from himself—did admit to finding meaning in a few things. And it struck me they were all things that had nothing to do with wealth, fame, and fortune—because he said things like:

Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love. … A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, for without Him, who can eat or find enjoyment?
–Eccl. 2:24; 9:4

How simple is that? Nothing fancy—just take pleasure in your work and your important relationships—and acknowledge God.

Now that’s’ what I needed to hear!

Then it dawned on me, I don’t need to be discouraged. Even in these hard times, I already have everything I need for a meaningful life—work to enjoy, people to love, and most of all—a God who loves me! I don’t need to be rich, powerful, or famous. I don’t even have to be perfect. God knows my frailty—that’s why he sent His Son. All I have to do is acknowledge Him.

Jesus said, “And why are you anxious about clothing (an everyday concern of life)? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory did not cloth himself like one of these. But if God so arrays the grass of the field… will He not much more do so for you? Do not be anxious then, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or 'With what shall we cloth ourselves?’… For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added to you.”
–Matt. 6:28-33

Tribute to Ginger - A Lesson on Attitude and Persistent Prayer

It’s been a year since Ginger, my dear feline friend, died at the ripe age of nineteen. I wrote about how she became part of our family several years ago. I thought it would be a fitting tribute to share her story now—as she would have turned twenty-years-old this summer.

Ginger didn’t start out to be my cat, but when the kids grew up and left home—she stayed behind and kept me company. With the house too quiet and empty—we needed each other. I still miss her clinging precariously to my lap as I clack away on my computer…

(Bear with me, this is longer than my other posts. :-)

“Dad…. Dad?”

“What?” He lowered his newspaper. Three little girls in stair step sizes stood facing his recliner. The tallest one, Lila (now Sydnee), prodded the smallest one forward.

“Daddy, I want a kitty,” three and a half year old Leneah spoke. Red cool-aid stained her upper lip and her short crooked bangs betrayed her recent hair cutting effort.

“We want a kitty too,” chimed in her sisters. Evidence of red cool-aid marked their lips as well. I could see what they were up to. It was Leneah who really wanted a kitty. No doubt Lila, my little-mother-hen, figured she needed a little help getting one.

“You’re wearing me out!” he said with exasperation. “I’ve already said no several times. What is it about no that you don’t understand?!”

My husband wasn’t a “cat man.” And since he has no problem expressing his opinion, it was well known among family and friends that he hated cats. “They have fleas. They get hair on everything. And above all, they have attitude,” he’d say.

If anyone has attitude, it’s him. I smiled. That’s why he doesn’t want a cat. He says he doesn’t want to share a house with a cat that has fleas and fur, but it’s really the attitude.

“Come on, honey. What will it hurt to get a cat?” my heart went out to Leneah. “You know how much she likes animals … or critters of any kind for that matter. Now that the weather is warming up, she plays outside all the time. I didn’t think of that the other day, and I made the mistake of not checking her pockets before washing play clothes. We had a few really clean bugs and worms in the washer.”

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth for a second, but he shook it off, determined to end the discussion. “You know how I feel about cats,” he said stubbornly. “Let her have all the bugs she wants! Or better yet, get her a gold fish or a turtle.”

“Leneah can’t pet a fish, Dad,” nine year old Lila said, rolling her eyes. “And besides, my friend Robby has a turtle and some kind of fungus started growing on it. It’s gross.”

“Yuk!” said six year old Layla with a disgusted look. “I’d rather have a kitty.” Unlike Leneah, she was scared of bugs, and would rather play dress-up indoors. I suddenly pictured an unhappy cat in doll clothes.

Leneah just stood there looking hopefully between us. I wonder what’s going on in her little mind. Fungus probably sounds like another interesting pet to her.

“That’s it. End of discussion.” I could tell he felt ganged-up on and wasn’t backing down. “If you don’t like my idea, then forget about getting a pet.” He picked his newspaper up and acted like he was reading.

“Come on girls. Let’s not bother your Dad right now. He’s tired after working hard all day, and besides, it’s time to get ready for bed.” I said as I herded the disappointed little group to their room.

“Mind your mother,” my husband said from behind his paper, clearly relieved to be off the hot-seat.

After the nightly ritual of baths and story time, I tucked each one in and had them say their prayers.

“Dear Jesus,” Leneah prayed, “I want a kitty, but Daddy doesn’t like ‘em. Could you help me get me one? Maybe you could help Daddy like ‘em. Then maybe we could get one, Amen.”

If her Daddy won’t get her a kitty, she’ll just go over his head. If he only knew… What was that? I thought I heard a noise, a pause and then my husband's footsteps. I smiled in the dark....

Summer came and faded. Leneah turned four. Thanksgiving came and went and still, her prayers for a kitty persisted. Then one day, my husband asked if the girls were still praying for a cat.

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, if we ever do get a cat, I will be the one to find it!”

“So what changed your mind?” I asked.

That’s when he told me about an ad he'd seen in the newspaper about adopting rescued cats. But the surprise was, he had already called the number! He said a friendly semi-retired veterinarian answered the phone.

“I often come across unwanted or injured cats,” she had said. “After nursing them back to health, giving them shots and neutering them, I put them up for adoption. Come and take a look. I have a few in my garage right now.”

“What is your fee?” He asked, thinking if it was too high, it might get him off the hook.

"Oh, don’t worry about that. I only ask for a donation. Whatever you can afford is fine.”

Tears stung my eyes. I was witnessing the answer to my daughter’s prayers.

He looked at me and cleared his throat. “Gather the girls for me. I want to talk to them.”

“Come in the living room, girls. Your Dad has something to tell you.” They looked at me curiously. I couldn’t hide my excitement.

“What is it, Mom? Why do you look so happy?” Lila asked.

“Hurry up, and you’ll see.”

“Okay, everyone, listen up,” my husband announced. “I may have found us a cat, but don’t get your hopes up,” he cautioned. “We’re going to go see a lady about it tonight. If she has the right cat, we’ll bring it home. If not, we’ll have to wait until the right one comes along.” Then he looked at our youngest daughter sternly, “And since it was your idea, you have to promise to help feed it and clean the cat box.”

She nodded her head seriously.

Later that evening, the first snow began to fall. A special feeling was in the air. We bundled up and piled into the station wagon. The girls were excited. They chattered in anticipation about what kind of cat we might find. Would it be big or small, striped or plain, fluffy or smooth? Even my husband got caught up in it.

“I think a short haired cat would be best,” he said. “Long haired cats are too messy.”

When we arrived, the friendly older woman led us out to her garage. It was clean and tidy with newspaper spread on the floor. Several cats curiously looked at us. One fluffy gray cat rubbed against our legs and meowed sweetly as if to say, “Pick me! Pick me!” One black and white one looked bored and began to groom. Then a small orange tabby shyly peeked out at us.

“What about that one?” my husband asked.

“Oh, that’s Ginger. She’s shy, but otherwise a nice healthy young cat,” she paused thoughtfully. “She’s probably shy because people weren’t too nice to her to begin with. She was dumped on the side of the road, young and pregnant. Someone brought her to me. Now she just needs a friend.”

“That’ll be the one then,” my husband said. I was surprised at his quick decision, and I wasn’t sure she was friendly enough for our daughter. I looked at him doubtfully. He looked back. “This is the one,” he said with an end of discussion tone in his voice.

We took her home. Once in the house, she ran straight under the nearest bed and didn’t come out for two days—except when no one was looking, as evidenced by the used box use and missing kibble. I didn’t want to insult my husband’s decision and cause him change his mind about having a cat, but I felt bad for Leneah.

“I think we may have picked the wrong cat,” I said finally. “Leneah has only had a glimpse of Ginger since she’s been here. She needs a friendlier cat, like the fluffy gray one, one that she can actually pet.”

“Yeah, Dad, let’s take her back and get the gray one,” the girls chimed in.

“I don’t want a long haired cat.” He looked irritated. “Give Ginger a chance. She’ll come out sooner or later.” But that evening, I heard him on the phone asking if he could trade cats. The next day he put Ginger in the car and took her back, alone. As they drove away, I felt strangely sad him and for Ginger.

Later that night, we had a tiger in the house. The friendly gray kitty that meowed sweetly, “Pick me, pick me,” when we first met her, now howled, “Feed me! Pet me! How dare you go to bed and ignore me!” I was up half the night trying to keep her quiet so my husband could sleep.

“I knew that cat was a tiger,” my husband said the next morning with a glint in his eye.

“Did you bring that cat home just to teach me a lesson?” I should have known he could recognize an attitude a mile away.

He smiled, “I already told the lady I’d probably be back.”

That evening, the girls and I ran to the entry way when we heard the sound of our car in the driveway. My heart was thumping. Lila gave me a knowing look. Would he be empty handed? We both looked at Leneah’s anxious little face.

The door opened. We stepped back. An orange head peeked out from inside his coat! We held our breath. He put Ginger on the floor and went and sat in his recliner a few feet away. She hesitated, first looking at us and then towards the guest bedroom.

What happened next surprised us...

She made a beeline for my husband’s lap, where she proceeded to stretch out confidently, as if it were the most natural thing to do. I couldn’t help noticing the satisfied look on my husbands face.

As it turned out, her behavior towards him paid off because this time she stayed for good. At first, she preferred his lap above ours, but once she was secure with him, she made friends with the rest of us. And it wasn’t long before I caught her sleeping with Leneah.

People ask what changed my husband’s mind about cats, and I say, “The persistent prayers of a little girl—and a cat with the right attitude!”

Happiness is a bowl full of ketchup!

The chatter stopped when the French fries and ketchup arrived. I sat across the table and watched my two-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter eat her fries. She carefully loaded each fry with ketchup, put it in her mouth, and smiled while she chewed. Then she let out a little sigh, picked up another fry, and loaded it with more ketchup. Soon the ketchup was gone, but there were still more fries. “More ketchup, peeze?” More red stuff—“Tank-you!” The fries disappeared.

Hmm, maybe if I’d put ketchup on her cereal this morning she would have taken more than two bites.

The next morning, I couldn’t get the picture of my granddaughter enjoying her ketchup out of my mind. Ah, if only contentment were a bowl of ketchup away… I felt restless and worried. I lost contentment somewhere over the past few months. Where did I lose it? When did it happen?

I’m always forgetting things. I walk into another room to get something—only to forget what it was when I get there. Then I go back to where I started—hoping to remember. So I decided to try to remember what I was doing when I felt content before.

I thought about when we moved last year. Life was anything but calm, and yet, I remember being content. My husband had been out of work, and when he found a job—I was grateful. I didn’t like moving thirty-five minutes away from the kids, but when my husband agreed to move half-way between the kids and his job for me—I was grateful. When we found a place to rent we could afford—I was grateful. We downsized from a house to an apartment. I was apprehensive at first, but it felt good to get rid of stuff. It was freeing, and afterward—I felt grateful.

Then it hit me—I was grateful!

I thought of my granddaughter again. An expensive plate of lobster wouldn’t have impressed her unless it was served with a bowl of ketchup. And my life was surrounded by “bowls of ketchup” —of all sizes. Large and small things, easy to over-look things— blessings that cares and worries had hidden from me. I got distracted. I let my gratitude muscles get flabby!

Then I pictured my worries like little thieves—stealing my contentment. I realized that if I wanted my contentment back, I needed to exercise my gratitude muscles and flexing those muscles would send those cowardly worry thieves packing!

My mind went to the much-loved verses—prescriptions against worry—vitamins for strength. The kind we all need to take everyday to strengthen ourselves against the worry thieves—so we can see all the “bowls of ketchup” we have to be grateful for.

Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
–1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that surpasses all comprehension, shall guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
–Philippians 4:6-7

Faith in the Missing Link?

As my hubby and I sat at the breakfast table reading the morning news Tuesday—this headline topped the page: Scientists Unveil Missing Link In Evolution. The article, accompanied by a picture of a fossil, proclaimed:

“The discovery of the 95%-complete 'lemur monkey' - dubbed Ida - is described by experts as the ‘eighth wonder of the world’. They say its impact on the world of palaeontology will be ‘somewhat like an asteroid falling down to Earth’. Researchers say proof of this transitional species finally confirms Charles Darwin's theory of evolution" (by Alex Watts, Sky News Online, UK).

The BBC’s famed Naturalist, Sir David Attenborough was quoted as saying, "Darwin ‘would have been thrilled’ to have seen the fossil - and says ‘it tells us who we are and where we came from.'"

But as we read deeper into the article, the announcement that started with “asteroid falling” significance lost some of its glow.

Researchers admitted the discovery was made by amateur fossil-hunter who dug “Ida” out of a crater in Germany over twenty-five years ago. The lemur’s remains have been hanging “on a German collector’s wall for 20 years.” Scientist obtained her “from the murky world of fossil-trading” paying “ten times the amount even the rarest of fossils fetch on the black market”. It took a cool million to persuade a “dealer” to part with Ida, and for the past two years, researchers have been “secretly” studying her.

Hmm, this story is beginning to sound kind of—murky. Are they seriously asking us to believe this is the answer 'who we are and where we came from'?

Yet, at the end of the article a reader posted this response, “Science uses hypothesis and research to find the truth, while religion uses faith and a supernatural force to explain things.”

“Research or faith?” I sighed to my hubby, “That argument, again? What about logic and common sense? Besides, who really has all the faith here?” I looked out the window at our car. I wonder if these same researchers took apart our car and examined it—they’d find any evidence of design? Would it take a leap of faith— or a simple exercise of logic to recognize the design had a designer? Then I looked at my hand… Why don’t they see a Designer in this?
Later in the day, I opened my Bible and read the words of the psalmist David, written over three-thousand-years-ago:

The heavens are telling of the glory of God;

And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.

Day to day pours forth speech,

And night to night reveals knowledge.

–Psalm 19:1-2

That reminded me of another passage of scripture written by the Apostle Paul nearly two-thousand-years-ago about those “suppress the truth” of the Creator’s existence:

“That which is known about God is evident within them; for God made it evident to them. For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so they are without excuse.” “ Professing to be wise, they … exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed animals and crawling creatures.”
–Romans 1:19-20, 22a, 23

“Dear Lord,” I prayed, “You put the evidence of Your design all around us! Why can’t they see it?”

Then Jesus’ words went through my mind … He who has ears, let him hear. And I was reminded of what He said to those who refuse the message, “while seeing they do not see, and while hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand” (Matthew 13:9, 13b).

If they’re comfortable ignoring evidence of a Designer—and putting their faith Darwin’s fragile theory, secret studies, and in murky fossil deals instead—perhaps the problem isn’t lack of faith.

Perhaps it’s having too much.

Where's My Anchor?

The world is in turmoil...

The raging river of financial failure roars onward, swallowing up large and small alike. World leaders and politicians scramble to stack dissolving sandbags to stop the out-of-control river from drowning us all. Bags filled with our children’s and grandchildren’s future.

Last night I looked at my tender grandson — and tears welled up. I felt helpless to protect him from it. I am only one small person in a world of billions. What can I do to save him from the raging river that threatens his future?

But this morning, as I read these words I was reminded of the answer:

Do not put your trust in princes (rulers, politicians),

in mortal men, who cannot save.

When their spirit departs, they return to the ground;

on that very day their plans come to nothing.

Blessed (happy) is he whose help (and) …

whose hope is in the Lord his God,

the Maker of heaven and earth,

the sea and everything in them —

the Lord, who remains faithful forever.

–Psalm 146:3-6, NIV

I may only be one in billions, but I trust in the God who made the billions — who set us on a planet so precisely in our solar system that we do not freeze or burn — this God who filled our planet with creatures of variety and design which staggers the mind — this same God who promises:

Do not fear for I am with you;

Do not anxiously look about you,

for I am your God.

I will strengthen you,

surely I will help you,

Surely I will uphold you

with My righteous right hand.

–Isaiah 41:10, NASB

I may not be able to stop the raging flood of turmoil this world offers my grandson — but I can give him an anchor to hold onto — an anchor to give him peace and joy — in the midst of the storm.

As the writer of Hebrews 6:17-19 says: "God made an oath to keep his promises to us and it is impossible for God to lie — so that we may have strong encouragement, we who have fled for refuge in laying hold of the hope set before us. This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast."
This same anchor is for you to hold on too!

What's My Purpose?

I’ve been struggling to write in my blog. I thought it would be easier. I told a friend my dilemma, and she said, “Don’t worry about it so much — just start!” So here goes — a few verses, a prayer, and some thoughts from my reading and journaling this morning.

He waters the mountains from his upper chambers;

The earth is satisfied with the fruit of His works.

The trees of the Lord drink their fill ...

Where the birds build their nests ...

O LORD, how many are Your works!

In wisdom You have made them all ...

There is the sea, great and broad,

In which are swarms without number,

Animals both small and great.

They all wait for You

To give them their food ...

You give to them, they gather {it} up;

You open Your hand, they are satisfied with good.

–Psalm 104:13, 16-17, 24-25, 27-28, NASB

Oh, Lord, I thank you for this day! As I look out my window, it’s raining outside, but it’s fresh and green. I see You have opened Your hand to water the earth this morning.


Green leaves bounce up and down as raindrops fall on them. They dip under the weight of each drop, passing the precious moisture to the leaves below. Each landing of a drop reminds me of tiny dancers passing their partners. The gentle hand-off continues until the drop falls to the ground — and sinks into the soil.

My heart swells, and I see, in my mind, the dancing leaves wave back their hearty agreement with me! Lord, I’ve been struggling and asking — what is my purpose? What do You want me to do? This thought comes to me ...

The purpose of my life is simple — to glorify the Lord — like the dancing leaves reflect His glory!

I imagine the drops continuing their journey — deeper into the rich darkness — till they meet with the roots of the dancing leaves above. The roots draw the moisture and nourishment from the soil up the trunk, out to the branches, and out to the glittering leaves. How carefree they look as they do their mysterious task — turning water and sunlight into food and fresh air.

O magnify the LORD with me, And let us exalt His name together.

–Psalm 34:3, NASB

So, to this end, may my words dance before you — and draw your eyes and heart to Him.

The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me (and you).

–Psalm 138:8, NIV

The Horse and Cart Conundrum

Do you ever sense you’re working too hard at something?

I do.

A thought in the back of my mind whispers, “Stop and think, you’re going about it all wrong.” But another though shouts, “You don’t have time to stop and think! It will work — you just have to try harder.”

Finally, when I’m exhausted, I wonder... Is it time to try something else? Now here’s a thought! Perhaps if I relied less on myself — and more on Someone else — things would work out.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
And do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He will make your path straight.
–Proverbs 3:5-6, NASB

Thy word is a lamp to my feet (that’s for now!),
And a light to my path (that’s for later!).
–Psalm 119:105, NASB

I thank God He left an instruction manual or I’d still be pushing on the … uh… wrong end!