i Witness

Simple Pleasures

2011-12-15T10:25:00.005-05:00

“So, Mom, what do you and Dad want for Christmas?”

I didn’t have to think long. We live in an old house with no insulation. The floors are cold in the winter. I want a pair of warm, fuzzy socks. And I didn’t even have to ask my husband what he wanted. Several years ago this daughter gave him what he thought was the perfect gift, and he asks for the same thing from her every year -- a pair of over-the-calf socks.

Some of my best memories revolve around said feet-covers. When we’d only been married a few years, one of my husband’s professors invited us to a Japanese restaurant. We had no idea we’d be asked to kick our shoes off at the door. We’re originally from Texas, and my husband wore cowboy boots during his big-belt-buckle stage. Imagine my chagrin when he kicked off his boots only to reveal he was wearing one yellow sock and one blue one. “Who cares what color socks you wear with boots?” he asked, and besides, he said, he probably had another pair at home just like them.

Only if you’re the creative, never-throw-anything-away type might you know this: the ribbing on a colorful child’s sock without a mate makes a great Barbie dress if the sock is small enough in diameter. The end of a larger single sock makes a great hat for a stuffed animal. Just cut off about 3 inches of sock from the toe and roll the cut edge. My husband saves old socks for rags, but then he saves almost every discarded cloth item for his rag bag. That creative, never-throw-anything-away syndrome may be catching.

Author Leo Buscaglio once told a story about a woman who gave a friend a tour through her new house. The friend was a little embarrassed for the new home owner when she saw a pair of dirty socks on the floor on the husband’s side of the bed. She was surprised by the wife’s reaction.

“Isn’t that cute,” the wife said, “the way he leaves his dirty socks on the floor?” Maybe Buscaglio said it, or maybe it was just the inference I made, but what’s the big deal about dirty socks left on the floor when some day the wearer of those socks might walk out of the house and never come back? Life is fragile and fleeting.

“Mom, when are you coming to visit?” our daughter also asked recently. “Our basket of unmatched socks is overflowing.” She must be remembering our visit a year-and-a-half ago when I tried to find something to do to be useful.

So I’m writing my daughter back. “For Christmas, your dad and I would like socks,” I’ll say. “A pair of warm fuzzy ones for me, a pair of over-the-calf ones for Dad.” We’re depending on her to keep us in socks in our old age. And if we ever move into a nursing home close to her family, maybe she’ll bring along a basket of socks for me to match on one of her visits. Why waste all those years of experience?

I’ve read that old socks make good dust clothes. Just put the sock on your hand and polish away. I hadn’t thought about it till now, but old socks would also make good floor cleaners. I should probably go through my husband’s rag bag now and find some good ones. I’ve noticed how easily the six-year-old’s new white socks pick up dirt on my wood floors when she comes to visit. Can’t you see me, a grandmother, skating across the floor trying to polish it? Or maybe I can offer the grandchildren “skating lessons” for Christmas. Idea. No sense soiling my Christmas present.

(Posted 12-11-11 at http://freehelp.ws/Sense/LetterCb/page1.html)

Happy Birthday, Jesus! And Other Things I Can't Say

2011-12-04T06:07:00.002-05:00

Quick: What are these dates? May 20, July 24, October 10. For me, these dates mark the birth of people I know and love. Betty, Barbara and Carolyn all have their birth dates circled on my calendar.

Now if I want to send them a card, buy them a gift or call them on their special day, no one gets bent out of shape. There are no Betty-haters out there as far as I know. I mean, come on. The woman is a saint. You wouldn’t believe the things she’s had to put up with in life, but she meets life head-on with optimism and grit.

But if I want to remember Jesus’ birthday, that’s another story. If I want to say “Merry Christmas,” I might get a little flak. “Happy Holidays” is preferred by some, or for those in education, “Happy Winter Break.” A few years ago I remember feeling totally intimidated saying “Merry Christmas.” Thankfully, the atmosphere changed.

Are you familiar with Jenny Joseph’s poem, “Warning: When I Am an Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple”? Google it if you’re not. Ah, the beauty of older age: imagine, a woman eating sausages and spitting on the sidewalk. The subject of this poem is my heroine.

So I if break away from the politically correct pack, just mark it up to aging. If someone takes away my right to say “Merry Christmas,” I may not remember I’m not supposed to say it, and I might say it anyway.

Until I am truly golden, if Christmas should ever be banned, that’s okay. I’m not much of a material girl anyway. What? Not go to the mall or shop on-line? I’ll just say “Happy Birthday, Jesus!” and celebrate with dessert. And a tree. And lights, camera, action! Candles! Stories! Hugs! Laughter! Greeting cards! Family traditions! Friends and family! I’ll throw a big party in honor of His birth. And who knows? We might even exchange homemade presents.

Call me crazy. If I can celebrate the births of my friends Betty, Barbara and Carolyn, and if we can celebrate special days to honor the births of dead presidents and Kings, (Abe, George, and Martin Luther, Jr.), then surely I should be allowed to celebrate the birth of my friend Jesus, the King of Kings.

It’s only fair. We don’t want to be accused of discrimination, do we? The party is at my house December 25th. Mark it on your calendar. Come on over.

posted 12/04/11 at http://freehelp.ws/Sense/LetterC4/page1.html

Black Friday Musings on Thanksgiving Left-Overs

2011-11-25T07:44:00.003-05:00

Once again I proved one of my basic beliefs: Don’t ever throw anything out. If you do, you’ll need it. Sure enough, last night I wished for all those empty Cool-Whip containers and butter tubs I tossed when I was on a cleaning jag this week.

I had been cleaning because my daughter’s family and a friend of hers were coming to our house on Thursday for Thanksgiving dinner. I know. Thanksgiving for me was supposed to be at Nanny’s on Saturday. It still is. Tomorrow at 2:00 we’ll pack up our trusty Honda and drive an hour to have turkey and all the trimmings again. Well, at least the trimmings. Our turkey yesterday wasn’t a turkey. My daughter had been given some chickens. When our plans changed to include a Thanksgiving dinner on Thanksgiving day at our house, my daughter said don’t worry about buying a turkey. She’s bring a chicken.

I did a head count. There would be eight of us. “Are you sure one chicken will be enough?”

“For eight people?” she asked. “Sure.”

Okay, I thought. My husband wouldn’t be eating chicken. I’d have one piece. The six-year-old didn’t eat much. Maybe one chicken would be enough. At least, there wouldn’t be left-overs.

The eight people ended up being six. The oldest grandchild spent the day with her boyfriend’s family. The young woman and 3-year-old my daughter planned to bring for supper didn’t come with her, but another friend did. I’m not sure if he was our daughter’s date or the 6 year-old’s play buddy. He moved back and forth between playing computer games with the kindergartener and joining my husband in front of the TV to watch the Cowboys’ and Ravens’ games.

When my daughter called at 2:00 yesterday to say they’d be here early, I was glad I cleaned before I cooked. I could always tear open the Stove Top box and open the jar of turkey gravy after she got here.

When she called at 3:00 to say they might be a little longer, they had to bury the cat, I was a little relieved. I mean, I was sad for the kids about the family pet, but I still had time to mop the bathroom floor.

When they got here at 4:30, we took the green bean casserole and the sweet potato casserole out of the oven so I could put her chicken in. I was surprised the chicken was still in the plastic wrapper. I probably misunderstood. I thought she told me when she called earlier she was going to take the chicken out of the oven and finish cooking it here.

I was also surprised the chicken wasn’t a chicken but an 8-pound roaster. “It’ll only take about an hour to cook,” my daughter said. I read the instructions on the package. For 6-8 pounds, bake 2 to 2 ½ hours at 350 degrees. My math skills kicked in. Our 5:00 meal wouldn’t be ready until 6:30 or 7:00.

When we finally sat down, all six of us, I realized I had way too much food. I cooked sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, dressing and gravy, and Uncle Bubba’s famous sweet pickles to go with our 8-pound chicken. I forgot to cook the spinach. My husband had cut up a fresh pineapple. I opened a can of Hoppin’ John beans for him for protein and a can of cranberry sauce. My daughter’s friend brought along two large pans of mac and cheese. We barely made a dent in one of them. And then there were pies.

I sent all the left-overs home with my daughter except for a single serving of sweet potato casserole and a healthy side of pickles. The bird and the dressing went home with her in zip-lock bags since I was fresh out of butter tubs.

Before they left, the grandkids gave us, at their mother’s prompting, a list of seven things each they were thankful for. I had my own list, some of which I didn’t care to share. I’m thankful I got my house clean. It looks nice and will for a minute or two until life happens. Hot and cold running water gets a daily Thank-you, God. I feel like a grunge if I can’t wash my hair on a daily basis. I’m also thankful for my eyesight, a husband with the patience of Job, and the fact that I don’t have to rule the world. I’m not very good at managing my small part of the universe. Since I feel so much better, I’m thankful for our new diet. I really have lost the taste for meat and for sugar. And finally, I am thankful we didn’t cook two “chickens.” I’d never live that down with my daughter.
~ ~ ~
Here it is, 7:30 a.m. Friday after Thanksgiving. Although I’ve only been shopping once on Black Friday—I think it was 2008—and there’s absolutely nothing I want or need, the sound of cars whizzing by our house in pursuit of the perfect gift calls to me. Come buy. Come shop. Bring cash or plastic.

I have all day and nothing to clean and no visiting grandchildren. Maybe I’ll take a quick shower and hit the road. Who doesn’t like a good sale? Besides, isn’t it my patriotic duty to support the economy?

Bah, Humbug! And Other Seasonal Sentiments

2011-11-20T07:39:00.003-05:00

What’s your favorite holiday? For my husband and me, it’s Thanksgiving. I love having every one poke their feet under our table while someone carves the turkey and someone else passes the Best Ever Sweet Potato Casserole. Thanksgiving comes without the pressure Christmas brings. The only thing my husband hates about Christmas is the gift-buying, the gift-wrapping, the gift- receiving, and the gift-returning—all in the name of our Lord.

But not everyone looks forward to holidays. Some have faced loss through the year. Holidays bring reminder of missing family members, lost jobs, lost homes. I’ve had a few Christmases where it was a struggle to put up a tree, even when the kids were at home.

In life there’s change, some welcome, and some not. The first year our youngest daughter said she wanted to have Thanksgiving at her house, I was at a loss. What? I wouldn’t be cooking the turkey? For over thirty years I always cooked the turkey, and I always made the corn bread dressing by my mother-in-law’s recipe. Instead, we’d be having stuffing from a box and gravy from a jar. But I’m a quick learner. My favorite stuffing recipe now is Stove Top.

This year the Thanksgiving meal for our family isn’t going to be at our house or our daughter’s or even on Thursday although I already bought a turkey. I also bought two of the boxes and two of the jars. Then our youngest called to say her oldest child’s other grandparents had invited them for Thanksgiving meal on Saturday, and we were invited if we wanted to come.

Thanksgiving at Nanny’s? And on Saturday? I don’t have to clean house, cook, and clean up? Why not?

The difference is attitude. Big Deals often aren’t so big. But some things are indeed, like losing a family member or facing foreclosure.

This is the year my husband started his whole-foods, plant-based diet, so there are a lot of positives about having Thanksgiving dinner at someone else’s house. I don’t have to try to find a home for the left-over turkey he won’t be eating. Our granddaughter said I’d need to cook green bean casserole to bring for Papa so he’d have something to eat. Knowing my husband, he’ll probably cook up something delicious to take, like sliced Brussel sprouts stir-fried in just the smallest amount of oil, lightly salted, seasoned with orange juice and zest and sprinkled with toasted walnuts. Yum!

Happy Thanksgiving! And don’t forget to give thanks. A grateful heart gives you joy and blesses others.
~ ~ ~
My contribution to Thanksgiving on Saturday at Nanny’s:

Roasted Cauliflower with Red Peppers
serves 6

1 head medium cauliflower, about 2 pounds, cut into 3/4-inch pieces
1 large red pepper cut into thin strips
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 tablespoon olive oil
salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.
In large bowl, toss cauliflower, red pepper, garlic, and oil until evenly coated. Salt and pepper. Arrange vegetables in single layer on a cookie sheet. Roast vegetables 20 minutes or until tender.

Protein Sources for a Plant-Based Diet

2011-11-14T07:56:00.003-05:00

When my husband and I began our journey on a plant-based diet, we weren't sure what protein sources there were besides beans. We knew about tofu, but not tempeh or seitan. Here is a brief explanation with simple recipes:

Tofu, a staple in vegetarian cooking, is also called bean curd. To make a simple lunch of mock egg salad from this high protein, soy product, mash tofu, add lo-fat or vegan mayonnaise and season salt—or season tofu with salt and pepper, chopped celery, sweet pickle relish, celery seed and/or turmeric. Serve on whole grain bread.

Tempeh, also made from soybeans, is a fermented product made from soybeans alone or a combination of soybeans and other beans and grains. Tempeh has a crunchy texture and nutty flavor. Tempeh can be fried, sauteed, or baked. A flavorful sandwich is barbequed tempeh. Crumble 8 oz. tempeh and marinate in 1 cup barbeque sauce. Chop and saute 1 onion, 1 red pepper and 1 green pepper. Add barbeque mixture and heat through.

Seitan, also called wheat meat or wheat gluten, is the base for many mock meat products. A 2 ½ ounce serving has 70 calories and 12 grams of protein. Because of its high protein content and meaty texture, seitan is used as a meat substitute. While tofu and tempeh are sold in most grocery stores, seitan can be purchased in health food stores or made at home. http://vegetarian.about.com/od/cookingtipstools/ss/HowToSeitan.htm. Seitan freezes well.

A Community Program to Watch

2011-09-24T08:20:00.010-04:00

If you were arrested for a non-violent offense, would you rather go to jail and pay a fine or go to church every Sunday for a year? That's the choice Bay Minette, Alabama's city judge will offer misdemeanor offenders beginning next week as part of Operation Restore Our Community (ROC).

Police Chief Michael Rowland says it costs $75 per inmate per day to house offenders. "Longevity is a key," he says. "30-day drug programs don't work, and 30-day alcohol programs don't work, but long-term programs do." Offenders can choose the church they attend, and 56 area churches have signed up to participate. Offenders who choose church attendance over incarceration will be required to check in with the pastor every week and the police department. After a year of church attendance, charges will be dropped.

Pastor Robert Gates says, "You show me somebody who falls in love with Jesus, and I'll show you a person who won't be a problem in society but will be an influence and a help to those around them." ROC is a way to cut jail costs, rehabilitate offenders and turn lives around.

Here's to Your Health

2011-09-11T11:23:00.014-04:00

Five months ago my husband told me he wanted to go on a plant-based, whole foods diet. I know how hard it is to try to diet by yourself, so I ate what I cooked for him. I didn't know at the time he'd been having chest pains.

It seems he had read The China Study: Startling Implications for Diet, Weight Loss and Long-Term Health, by T. Colin Campbell, PhD, and Thomas M. Campbell II, MD. The authors quoted studies in which heart disease, diabetes, and some cancers were prevented and/or reversed through eating a plant-based,whole foods diet.

Since the time five months ago we switched from eating meat, poultry, fish, eggs, dairy, sugar, and added fats, my husband has lost 10% of his body weight, is in a normal BMI range, and he's been able to stop taking his blood pressure medication because his blood pressure is now normal. He no longer has chest pains. I, too, have seen positive results from eating a plant-based diet. I have so much more energy and have been able to focus on and complete projects long neglected. I've also lost weight.

During these five months, my husband has been faithful to follow the diet. I've been faithful maybe 75% of the time. I certainly feel better and am more productive. I'm sure my health is better than it was before we started eating beans, tofu, whole grains, fruits, vegetables and nuts, but I'm not 100%. I still eat peanut butter and nuts. I still use oil for stir-fry. I'll order chicken or fish or bacon and eggs during the rare times I eat out with friends.

Yesterday I checked out a copy of Prevent and Reverse Heart Disease, by Caldwell B. Esselstyn, Jr., MD, motivation I've needed to more completely change my ways. Dr. Esselstyn is featured in the CNN special above, "The Last Heart Attack." I want to live in good health and be productive. I want to prevent and/or reverse heart disease, diabetes, and cancer. I have a chance to do that by changing the way I eat. That seems like a good trade-off.

Yours for improved health --

Enough?

2011-07-14T14:32:00.006-04:00

My husband is at that delicate age where he's having to research Medicare supplement plans. Recently he had lunch with a friend who's been on Medicare for a year.

"Buzz told me he's writing a first draft of his obituary." I understand. My dad was probably about Buzz's age when he wrote his first draft of his obituary, too. My dad lived to be 92. Every now and then he'd pull out the obituary to see if we needed to modify it.

"My obituary should be simple," I said. "Say this: She loved her family, and she loved Jesus." That should about cover it.

Guarantees

2011-06-04T07:43:00.010-04:00

Yesterday I had lunch with a friend who shared some difficulties she's been walking through. "I'm so ready for this to be over," she said. "I'm ready for good times again." I wanted to comfort her and assure her that circumstances would surely change soon. But will they?

When I buy an appliance, I look for details of the guarantee. Is the item under warranty? And for how long? Ninty days? A year? When we invest in what promises to be a bright, shiny future, we have certain expectations. We'll always be this happy, we think. Our marriage will be perfect, and so will any kids we might have. Our job will be secure. We won't need health insurance. We'll always be able to put food on the table and pay the bills. And then life happens.

I found the guarantee in Scripture to share with my friend, though I don't know if she's ready to hear it. "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." We'd like to see a rewrite on that, something like, "All your dreams will come true, and you'll live happily ever after." The good news is we are not alone. God's grace is for the present moment, regardless of our circumstance.

(reposted from 04/09/09)

Feeding the Hungry

2010-08-06T07:53:00.009-04:00

"There is more hunger for love and appreciation in the world than for bread." Mother Teresa

There's a television show you need to see if you haven't. If You Really Knew Me airs at 11 Eastern/10 Central on Tuesday nights on MTV. As part of Challenge Day, facilitators go in to high schools and lead groups of teens into discovery. Divided into small groups, each student gets a chance to share. "If you really knew me, you'd know. . ." Walls are removed when teens risk being honest with each other. "If you really knew me, you'd know how much it hurts when someone in the hall calls me gay," one young man said. "I'm not gay. Maybe it's the way I dress." One of the name callers was in his group and pledged to change his ways when he saw how hurtful his words were.

"If you really knew me, you'd know my mother is in jail, my father does drugs, I am bi-polar and on Christmas day a friend and I tried to commit suicide. My father calls me crazy. I live with a family friend because no one else wants me." This was the girl who others called a loner.

We feed each other all the time. May our choice be to send out little messages of love and hope. Everyone has a hard way to go, even the ones wearing happy faces. We can make their walk easier if we will.

Beth and Fred

2010-08-06T06:52:00.010-04:00

When my friend (I'll call her Beth)called to say her husband of 31 years (I'll call him Fred)had left her, I was saddened and shocked. Although the couple is near my age, I've looked at them almost as spiritual parents. I sat under his teaching for probably ten years. They would be the ones our family would call in time of emergency for support. I felt like the adult child of divorcing parents. If you had asked me that morning the last thing in the world I could imagine would ever happen, this couple's separation and divorce would never even enter my thinking. He's lost his mind, I thought. Maybe he has brain cancer, a friend suggested. His actions seemed that bizzare.

The news came maybe six or eight weeks ago. My hope is for their reconciliation. Basically, there is a problem of unforgiveness. He did something very hurtful. He said she said . . . and he's taken offense. You know how that goes.

Reconciliation is possible. Until then friends will love her in practical ways and pray for him. She has no car and navigates with what she calls a "rollater," one of those walkers that can be converted to a chair. Friends provide rides to Bible studies, hair appointments, the superstore, the grocery store. We would love him in practical ways if he'd give us a chance. He has pulled away from family and friends.

Yesterday I passed a local restaurant where we've eaten together, then IHOP, then Cracker Barrel. I remembered the good times we shared with this couple as part of their "family". We miss you, "Fred." Come home. We can work it out. You both have a lot of support. You are both loved.

Free to Good Home

2010-07-10T05:44:00.003-04:00

Sometimes I have trouble understanding our daughter on her cell phone. Evidently I'm not the only one. She called my husband the other day. When he hung up, he said, "Lib got a weimereiner. A friend gave it to her. Someone was looking for a good home." Then he said, "Why would she want a crazy dog like that?"

"A weimereiner?" I asked. I think they're beautiful dogs, but my daughter never showed interest in having a large dog. Now that they live in the country, a dog might be nice and would have plenty of room to run. Did the kids know? Would the dog be an inside dog? What would they name him?

We saw Lib the next day. She said something about the kids wanting to cut grass on the new riding lawn mower. What a coincidence! My husband had been looking for a riding lawnmower for her in the classified.

You got a lawnmower?" he said.

"Dad, I told you yesterday when we talked that I got a riding mower. Someone gave the mower to Tony and told him it needed a good home if he knew anyone who could use it."

Yes, much of that information did sound familiar.

Riding mower? Not a weimeriner? And I'd already bought him a box of dog treats.

first posted 6/10/09

2010-06-11T14:38:00.006-04:00

I'm glad I have a safe place to go. This morning, after my husband left to ride his bike before work, I retreated to a place of worship, adoration and prayer. In the presence of God, the Holy Spirit, and the living Christ, my spirit was lifted to a place of quiet praise.

I talked to a friend last Thursday, now just 8 days ago, and heard first of the news I couldn't take in. What? It didn't make sense.

When she called me back, I didn't know what to say, just long periods of silence. What can you say to a woman almost 70 whose husband has decided to take a hike, Mike, hit the road, Jack, pursue ministry with another woman as ministry partner? He's lost his mind, and I don't want to lose mine in the process. This was more than a friend. He was a teacher, a mentor, a pastor. First tears of grief, and then the anger comes. I am at a loss. I don't know what to do for my friend, for my many friends who are hurting over this man's actions. There are no words, just pain. Pain and tears. I am thankful for the comfort of the Holy Spirit.

What We Teach Our Children

2010-06-04T08:31:00.009-04:00

My friend Jan sent me the link to this YouTube this morning of her three-year-old granddaughter singing the books of the Bible. Three years old. How did she learn those sixty-six (and some of them hard) names in order, I wonder? And who set the names of the books of the Bible to song?

See the woman to the child's left? Who can she be? I bet you know. That's her teacher, her mother, her model, her encourager, her comfort, her support. And the man behind the camera? Her dad, of course.

When this delightful child learns to read, she'll be able to navigate through the books and hide the Word in her heart. Until then, and after that, her parents will teach her the way she should go.

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! and Other Greetings

2009-12-24T22:14:00.011-05:00

My husband travels with his job. He got an e-mail greeting from one of his clients in Malaysia. "Of all the Christmas greetings I've received, this one means the most to me," he said. The man who wished him Merry Christmas is Buddist. And every year, one of his Hindu clients from India sends him a Christmas card. Christianity is not their faith, but they show respect to my husband by acknowledging his faith. That simple act is precious to him.

I've never been self-conscience about saying Merry Christmas to people I'd pass or clerks in stores until this year. This year, I've spoken a few greetings of Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays, but mostly I haven't said anything. I had this conversation in the pharmacy yesterday, and it blessed me.

A delivery man was bringing in items to leave in Rite Aid. I passed him as he was coming in the door with his cart. "Happy Holidays," I said.

"Merry Christmas," he said.

"God bless you," I said.

"God bless you," he said in return. And He did, just by that simple conversation.

I've decided I'm not going to risk offending anyone out of respect, so instead of saying Merry Christmas, I'm going to say Happy Birthday, Jesus. Just someone talking out loud to the One I love.

Smiles and Tears -- and Thanks

2009-12-07T19:06:00.000-05:00

A Way or Two to Say Thank You

2009-12-06T08:35:00.006-05:00

The above one-minute commercial posted on YouTube was produced by Anheizer Busch.

Have you seen this website? http://www.give2thetroops.org
One woman, the wife of a Marine reservist, began this project in 2002. Check out some of the pages that open from links on the left of this home page, like "Programs" for year-round opportunities and "Items Requested" and "How We Got Started." There are several on-going projects.

Everlasting

2009-08-24T08:02:00.005-04:00

Here is a link to the lyrics and melody of a song that's been playing in my head in recent weeks: http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/l/o/lotearms.htm "What have I to fear? What have I to dread? Leaning on the everlasting arms. . . Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarm. Leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms." When these words come to mind, usually while driving down the road, I'll sing them.

When we find ourselves tempted to worry, doubt, or fear, then in His great love, He often drops a word, a Scripture, a melody into our hearts that allows us to rise above circumstance and ride above the waves of adversity. For the song to play so often in my spirit, head and heart, I think I need to hear it, sing it, speak it, believe it, proclaim it, soak in it, live it. The Lord knows my tendency to lean on my understanding, to prop myself up on fear. The Lord provides all our needs. I've needed this song. What have I to fear though the earth is passing away, though this mortal body is showing signs of age, though the atmosphere politically seems grim? What have I to dread? Underneath are the arms of God. His love endures forever. I am His. I am safe. I am secure.

During periods of what seems to be great silence where God is concerned, we may wonder, God, are you there? Do You care? Do You care for me, about what's going on in my life, in the lives of those I love? The answer is a resounding YES. Because we can't always sense God's presence doesn't mean He's not there. He is a forever God.

Psalm 46: 1, 7 (NIV) -- God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. . . . The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

One Extra-Large Band-Aid and A Little Ointment

2009-05-12T18:18:00.009-04:00

Today I was injured. Wanna see my boo-boo, that place in my heart that got a good stomp? I wanted to say, "How could you?" I wanted to pray, "But God . . .!" I wanted to tell someone, anyone, how much I hurt, how somebody "done wrong." But I thought about Jesus, and about how Scripture says he was led as a lamb to the slaughter, how he didn't open his mouth. Not a word of complaint, that One. I didn't say anything--till I got home.

And then my husband said, "You sounded tired today when I called."

"I wasn't tired," I said. "I was just trying not to cry."

"What happened?" he asked. So I told him, with flailing arms and raised voice, especially when I got to the "I AM SO ANGRY" part. And he just looked at me, didn't say a word, just let me vent. He gave me eye contact. He may have also nodded his head. Women, he probably thought, getting so riled up about nothing.

It's not right, what happened, and the not-rightness of the situation hurts me. I am grieved, and absolutely powerless over the outcome. But I can pray. I can pray blessing and wisdom for an erring one. I can set aside the sense of disappointment and pain--and I will, probably, as soon as the tears stop. Someone made a wrong turn heading down the wrong road. I think about all the wrong turns I've made and how God has been faithful even in my erring. And I am comforted. Again. That One who said not a word, I think about Him, and why He died. How many times have I hurt Him like I'm hurting now? Probably too numerous to mention.

A Matter of Sacrifice

2009-04-05T20:56:00.007-04:00

This photo was one of several a friend sent in a forwarded e-mail. As a mother, this photo touched my heart. One of the most difficult nights of my life I lay in bed in my parents' home in Texas in deep grief. I hadn't lost anyone. No one had died, but our daughter and her daughter moved from our home in Delaware to Louisiana. That day I left my baby and her baby in a small apartment in a distant city. The next day, I was going to drive to Houston to fly back to Delaware. I'd never felt such pain. That night, I felt like my heart was actually ripping.

In "Sending A Son to War," published as a feature in Centered Magazine, http://www.centeredmag.com/2009/04/01/sending-a-son-to-war-2/, author Edie Melson shares her heart about how she copes during her son's deployment in Iraq. She talks about her son and how being in the service has changed him.

I think about Jesus' words, "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends" (John 15:13, NIV). I know the nation is divided in opinion about involvement in Iraq, but like Edie said in her article, her son is doing what he feels he has to do. I think about the sacrifices made for our freedoms, sacrifices made not only by men and women in the military but by their spouses, parents and children. I think about the love behind all acts of service, both large and small. I pray for the men and women in the military and for the moms and dads, the sons and daughters and spouses who sacrifice for the rest of us. That, and I want to say thank you.

Read Edie's article for a parent's perspective.

A Parent's Heart

2009-03-31T07:38:00.006-04:00

One of our daughters told me a few days ago about a situation where she'd intervened for our granddaughter. "I don't want her to be hurt," she said.

I thought back about my own efforts to intervene in my daughter's life. "We can't always protect our children from hurt," I told her.

I wanted to. A few years ago I tried to be a voice in the wilderness saying, "Oh, baby. Watch out!" If I could I would have thrown myself over the exploding hand grenade the enemy threw her way. But life and inevitable hurt happened anyway.

I know my daughter's heart. She loves her daughter. I treasure them both. This morning when my prayers turned to one particular eleven-year-old I love, the tears flowed. Then I thought about God's love for us. I'm sure we are often unaware of His interventions on our behalf. And if we lean on our own understanding and go our own way, He doesn't abandon us but helps pick up the pieces.

"In all things God works for the good of those who love Him." "His mercies are new every morning." "His love endures forever." "Nothing separates us from the love of God." His promises are precious. I am grateful for His hand of protection and His constant care and love.

Missing Barbara

2009-03-30T06:07:00.010-04:00

This past week, my friend Barbara moved. I was saddened, of course, because she is such a good friend and we did so much together. Neither one of us proved to be very good at using the phone, but we'd see each other every week or two. We wrote together and ate together and went to the movies and the library and shared favorite authors. We laughed a lot. She is 14 hours away by car but in my thoughts and heart. Memories of our times together make me smile.

When we'd get together for lunch, Barbara would choose one of three places. I could suggest another restaurant, but she'd been there once and the food wasn't really that good. So you know I can't go to IHOP any time soon. We've been there so often someone will surely ask, "Where's your friend?" and then I'd have trouble choking out the word, "Florida."

Eighteen years my senior--and I am no spring chicken--Barbara shared acquired wisdom. The mother of six children, she once told me when I was crying on her shoulder, "Jean, you have to let your kids make their own mistakes." I knew taking my hands off was the right thing to do, but hard.

When I got a little teary telling her good-bye, she said, "You'll live, and so will I." She sees this move as the last one she'll make before the Big One. I helped her pack one day last week and clean another. It was an act of selfishness on my part. For a few mores hours, I had a chance to spend with Barbara.

So, what am I doing with my time spent missing her? This week I'm tackling the rooms upstairs sorting keeps, throw-aways, and give-aways. We have a lot of stuff. I want to be ready to move, just in case I can convince my husband to move to Florida.

Testimony of Deliverance

2009-03-16T08:53:00.004-04:00

This is one of my favorite stories. I've told it so often. On page 16 of Fight the Good Fight, author Carole Rucci says:

"I remember weeping as a young woman was giving her testimony. She had been a prostitute and one night, strung out and filled with self-disgust and hatred, she had decided to take her life. She had turned on her radio as a minister was preaching the Word, after which he had given an invitation to receive Jesus as Savior and Lord. In that sordid little hotel room she had knelt down and asked Jesus that if He was real, would He please come into her life. Praise God, He did!
"At that point the woman heard the minister say, 'If you have just given your heart to Jesus, spend the rest of the night thanking Him in praise and worship.' She said, 'I didn’t know how to praise and worship Him, so I just knelt there saying, ‘Praise! Praise! Worship! Worship!’ And, as I kept saying it, all my craving for a fix left me and has never returned. All the self-loathing left, all desire to die was gone. I felt overwhelmed by an incredible feeling of love. Not only love, but something I had never, ever felt in my life - joy! It was sweeping over me in waves and suddenly I knew I wanted to live. I wanted to live for Jesus.'" (Full text at http://www.carolerucci.com/1223.html)

Then Carole said, "I believe this is a testimony worth repeating, don't you?"

What Shall We Plant? Our World, Their World

2009-02-20T09:07:00.001-05:00

My friend Ed tells this story. He was complaining to the Lord one time about a certain crop growing in his (life) garden. And the Lord said to him, "If you don't want onions, quit planting onions."

~ ~ ~

What Shall We Plant?

What shall we plant today?
A word of hope?
A word of cheer?
Doubt? Unbelief? Fear?
Anxiety?
Gloom and doom?
Despair?
Condemnation? Guilt?

What's in the heart

is released into the air

when we open our mouths
and put it out there.

What shall we plant today?

What shall we grow to feed the children?

Words of Comfort, In Memory

2009-01-14T09:35:00.001-05:00

In the summer of 1978 I had a part-time job working as a church secretary when a portion of Scripture I was reading in 2 Corinthians jolted me. The 4th chapter of 2 Corinthians includes that beautiful passage about how we have this treasure in jars of clay, in earthen vessels. Chapter 5 goes on to talk about our heavenly dwelling. "For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by . . ."

I expected the next word to be death. When we pass from this life to the next, we are swallowed up by death. Aren't we? But that's not what Paul said in this letter to the Corinthians. He finishes the sentence this way: ". . . so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life." We are swallowed up by life at the moment of death? "Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come." God has made us for the very purpose of being swallowed up by life?

I know the joy of the presence of the Holy Spirit, that precious promise of God, that precious precious comforting helper friend. If what I know about God through the presence of the Holy Spirit is only a deposit, a small taste of what is to come, how glorious will that fuller life be?

Jesus said he came that we might have life, and have it to the full. That's true while we walk this planet in our earthen vessels, and it becomes more complete at that moment we are swallowed up by life.

That was the first revelation I ever received from Scripture. I was so excited I shared it with the pastor of the church where I worked. When fall came of that year, our family moved from Texas to Iowa. In the heart of winter we received the news that our pastor's wife and beloved friend, Kay, had been diagnosed with lung cancer. She was 33 and lived 3 months after receiving diagnosis. I was heart broken but comforted to know that God loved me so much he'd prepare me for her death and would give me words of comfort to share with her husband.

Here it is, thirty years later, and those words still comfort me. I want to offer them to you, to your loved ones. God has a plan, and we can't begin to imagine. But we have a tiny hint, just a small glorious glimmer guaranteeing what is to come.

Praise You, Jesus.

In memory of those who have gone before us this past year: Ed VanBrunt III, Lisa Mulvihill, Edward Bounds, Mary Ellen White, Michael Foster, Phil. My love to their families.