The bed in my daughter’s old room is covered with blankets and pillows. And curtains and bedspreads and lengths of fabric and silk plants.
It all started about six weeks ago when I was cleaning out closets in preparation of storing my son’s belongings during his exchange-student year in Japan. I found more than I remembered being there.
Then twice in two days I’ve come across stories of people who decided to clean their homes of excess. I sat down to my Scripture-of-the-day calendar this morning: it was about offering back to God so that He can re-offer it to others. When there’s a subject God hits that often in that short a period, I’ve learned to take heed.
Here in Charlotte, there’s a place called The Butterfly Bin. (Actually, they are in the process of moving to a new warehouse in Huntersville.) It’s a place where we can donate all the things it takes to set up house: furniture, bedding, linens, dishes, kitchen essentials, small appliances, curtains, décor items, etc. People who are setting up their homes and are in need (for example: young folk who have aged out of the foster care system, women emerging from prison, homeless families getting back on their feet- all pre-screened by various organizations) are given vouchers to “shop” for free there.
What better place to donate my good-but-unused-and-doing-no-good-in-the-closet stuff? Here, it’s just taking up space. There, it can warm a home and a heart.
How about your cabinets and closets? Are they like mine, crammed full of things you can let go of? I found a pretty set of dishes and three mixing bowls to add to my pile. And I’m going back in.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Update
Hi, y'all.
I haven't been posting much. It has been a busy season:
All three of my children moved within days of each other. One went back to college, one went back to Georgia and the other is now in Japan. Yes, Japan, as in halfway around the world (or thirteen hours ahead). Helping your children move can make muscles ache- and hearts, too!
I've gone back to work part-time as I have been relatively asymptomatic. It's crazy there, since I've taken off so much time due to illness. I am still not caught up. Plus, I'm the administrator for our group chiropractic booth at the Southern Women's Show (this weekend)and have spent mucho hours on that. Try getting eight doctors' offices and schedules into one cohesive format! My head hurts. Good thing I know a chiropractor... or eight. Wait. That's WHY my head hurts. :)
I've been writing, but it's mostly been scripts. Our church has a drama team that performs short (2-4 minute) sketches on some Sundays, generally to reinforce a sermon topic or series. We've needed fresh scripts and God has been sitting me down to give them to me. Sometimes it's during my "designated" writing time. Sometimes He gets me out of bed in the middle of the night. (As if He's on Japanese time!)
Then there's my ongoing search for answers to my health issues. My immunologist agreed that Mayo Clinic is a good "next step". However, as of October 1, Mayo is not participating with my primary insurance. They have suggested Duke instead. Duke does accept my insurance. So all the necessary referrals and pre-certs are in the works. It's waiting time again.
We did find out that my illness is NOT related to my high Epstein-Barr virus titers. There was no DNA evidence in my blood that EBV was active. There is also no blood evidence of lymph system cancer. So we ARE ruling things out and narrowing the possibilities. Of course, it's gotta be something quirky and unusual. That's just par for my course! :) Good thing my blood type is B+ (be positive!)!!!
OK, consider yourself updated. Now I have to finish reading about tomorrow's Sunday School lesson, write in my FAITH journal, do my Precepts homework, mop the bathroom, do a load of laundry, make out the grocery list, skin some tomatoes and chop the rest of the salsa ingredients, prepare and can the salsa...
Oh, and whadda ya know... another train just blew its whistle and flew on by! I'm taking that as a reminder to pray!
Y'all got your tickets?
I haven't been posting much. It has been a busy season:
All three of my children moved within days of each other. One went back to college, one went back to Georgia and the other is now in Japan. Yes, Japan, as in halfway around the world (or thirteen hours ahead). Helping your children move can make muscles ache- and hearts, too!
I've gone back to work part-time as I have been relatively asymptomatic. It's crazy there, since I've taken off so much time due to illness. I am still not caught up. Plus, I'm the administrator for our group chiropractic booth at the Southern Women's Show (this weekend)and have spent mucho hours on that. Try getting eight doctors' offices and schedules into one cohesive format! My head hurts. Good thing I know a chiropractor... or eight. Wait. That's WHY my head hurts. :)
I've been writing, but it's mostly been scripts. Our church has a drama team that performs short (2-4 minute) sketches on some Sundays, generally to reinforce a sermon topic or series. We've needed fresh scripts and God has been sitting me down to give them to me. Sometimes it's during my "designated" writing time. Sometimes He gets me out of bed in the middle of the night. (As if He's on Japanese time!)
Then there's my ongoing search for answers to my health issues. My immunologist agreed that Mayo Clinic is a good "next step". However, as of October 1, Mayo is not participating with my primary insurance. They have suggested Duke instead. Duke does accept my insurance. So all the necessary referrals and pre-certs are in the works. It's waiting time again.
We did find out that my illness is NOT related to my high Epstein-Barr virus titers. There was no DNA evidence in my blood that EBV was active. There is also no blood evidence of lymph system cancer. So we ARE ruling things out and narrowing the possibilities. Of course, it's gotta be something quirky and unusual. That's just par for my course! :) Good thing my blood type is B+ (be positive!)!!!
OK, consider yourself updated. Now I have to finish reading about tomorrow's Sunday School lesson, write in my FAITH journal, do my Precepts homework, mop the bathroom, do a load of laundry, make out the grocery list, skin some tomatoes and chop the rest of the salsa ingredients, prepare and can the salsa...
Oh, and whadda ya know... another train just blew its whistle and flew on by! I'm taking that as a reminder to pray!
Y'all got your tickets?
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Can You Hear the Whistle?
It’s 1:00 am.
I had been asleep for about two hours, but God woke me. I could hear the approach of one of the forty-nine freight trains that pass our house every day. It sounded angry and out-of-control, as if it were heading for the house. The whistle blew and it passed on by, but I was left with the thought of what would happen if a train derailed nearby. We live within 100 yards of the tracks. Rail cars could easily buckle into our home and our lives would end instantly. I shook off the image and returned to sleep.
I dreamt that I had been stung by a bee and my throat was swelling closed. It was so vivid that I awakened coughing, alarmed that my tongue was thickening. It was not so, but it was enough to understand that God was getting my attention.
The message? Our perch on this planet is precarious. It could be over in a second.
I could not go back to sleep. When God wakes me, I have learned that I need to get up and go to the computer and write. This time has an urgency I cannot ignore.
Am I sitting here in the middle of the night because there is someone searching in the middle of the night?
Do you know Him?
So much of my life I thought I did, but it was a superficial relationship. He had to bring me through heartache to show me that I needed Him, to alert me that, yes, I had accepted Him but had not allowed Him into the control room. I was still trying to run my own life. It was like driving with my eyes closed.
Do you know Jesus? Are you prepared to meet Him?
Life could be over in the next ten minutes for any of us. It is only by the grace of God that we have breath in our lungs. We cannot take the risk of not knowing Him. Death comes at its appointed time and waits for no one. Not you. Not me.
It begins with the knowledge that we cannot reach Heaven on our own. Good deeds won’t get us there. Every one of us has missed the mark, has messed up. We might not think it fair, but God demands perfection from us in order for us to come into His presence. We are without hope… condemned. The price for our sin is death. The price must be paid. And that’s where Jesus comes in.
When Jesus died, He paid the price for our sin. And He didn't stop there. He conquered death and left that grave. What hope that is for us!
Now we can come into God’s presence. All we have to do is accept that gift that He paid for with His own life. We come to believe in Him, His death and His resurrection. We acknowledge our need for a Savior because we understand that we cannot save ourselves. We ask Him to do that for us. We confess that we’ve made a mess of things trying to run our lives without His direction and we ask Him to take over. We stop going down the path we were traveling, stop doing the things we already know in our hearts are not pleasing to Him, turn around and allow Him to lead. We step out in faith.
And that’s the first step, but it’s a big one.
That’s the step that keeps you from having an eternal address in Hell, where there is no God, where there is no Savior, where there is no hope, where continual torment has no relief. You think things are bad right now? At least there is hope while you still live. There is no light within the black jaws of Hell. No torch to keep evil at bay. No Indiana Jones. No one, no thing to save you, forever.
Are you ready? Or are you on the path towards destruction?
Accept Jesus. That’s all I can say to you. Do it now. I may not be here tomorrow to tell you again. You may not be here tomorrow to hear it again. And when you’ve finally given up and given in and given it to God, tell someone. Did a person just now come to your mind? That’s the Holy Spirit telling you who to tell. That’s the person who’s been praying for YOU, specifically, by name. And tell me, too. That’s why I’m writing to you. That’s why I’m now sitting here at 2:00am.
I’m awake, and I hear another train.
I had been asleep for about two hours, but God woke me. I could hear the approach of one of the forty-nine freight trains that pass our house every day. It sounded angry and out-of-control, as if it were heading for the house. The whistle blew and it passed on by, but I was left with the thought of what would happen if a train derailed nearby. We live within 100 yards of the tracks. Rail cars could easily buckle into our home and our lives would end instantly. I shook off the image and returned to sleep.
I dreamt that I had been stung by a bee and my throat was swelling closed. It was so vivid that I awakened coughing, alarmed that my tongue was thickening. It was not so, but it was enough to understand that God was getting my attention.
The message? Our perch on this planet is precarious. It could be over in a second.
I could not go back to sleep. When God wakes me, I have learned that I need to get up and go to the computer and write. This time has an urgency I cannot ignore.
Am I sitting here in the middle of the night because there is someone searching in the middle of the night?
Do you know Him?
So much of my life I thought I did, but it was a superficial relationship. He had to bring me through heartache to show me that I needed Him, to alert me that, yes, I had accepted Him but had not allowed Him into the control room. I was still trying to run my own life. It was like driving with my eyes closed.
Do you know Jesus? Are you prepared to meet Him?
Life could be over in the next ten minutes for any of us. It is only by the grace of God that we have breath in our lungs. We cannot take the risk of not knowing Him. Death comes at its appointed time and waits for no one. Not you. Not me.
It begins with the knowledge that we cannot reach Heaven on our own. Good deeds won’t get us there. Every one of us has missed the mark, has messed up. We might not think it fair, but God demands perfection from us in order for us to come into His presence. We are without hope… condemned. The price for our sin is death. The price must be paid. And that’s where Jesus comes in.
When Jesus died, He paid the price for our sin. And He didn't stop there. He conquered death and left that grave. What hope that is for us!
Now we can come into God’s presence. All we have to do is accept that gift that He paid for with His own life. We come to believe in Him, His death and His resurrection. We acknowledge our need for a Savior because we understand that we cannot save ourselves. We ask Him to do that for us. We confess that we’ve made a mess of things trying to run our lives without His direction and we ask Him to take over. We stop going down the path we were traveling, stop doing the things we already know in our hearts are not pleasing to Him, turn around and allow Him to lead. We step out in faith.
And that’s the first step, but it’s a big one.
That’s the step that keeps you from having an eternal address in Hell, where there is no God, where there is no Savior, where there is no hope, where continual torment has no relief. You think things are bad right now? At least there is hope while you still live. There is no light within the black jaws of Hell. No torch to keep evil at bay. No Indiana Jones. No one, no thing to save you, forever.
Are you ready? Or are you on the path towards destruction?
Accept Jesus. That’s all I can say to you. Do it now. I may not be here tomorrow to tell you again. You may not be here tomorrow to hear it again. And when you’ve finally given up and given in and given it to God, tell someone. Did a person just now come to your mind? That’s the Holy Spirit telling you who to tell. That’s the person who’s been praying for YOU, specifically, by name. And tell me, too. That’s why I’m writing to you. That’s why I’m now sitting here at 2:00am.
I’m awake, and I hear another train.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Neuro News
Good morning, all.
Test results are in. I had my follow-up visit with the neurologist this morning.
Good news: He doesn’t believe it is MS or an MS spectrum disorder. YAY!
Other news: He doesn’t know what it is.
Next step: He is referring me to an immunologist/specialist for further study.
OK, so we’ve got one hurdle cleared! Now for the next one.
My track coach in high school taught me about hurdles. She said that in most sports, you focus on the ball so you will hit it. In hurdles, you do NOT focus on the hurdle, or you WILL hit it. You focus on the space above the hurdle. Miss Pinyan did not know she was teaching me a spiritual lesson as well.
The space above the hurdle is where God is.
So, y’all, focus with me on the space above the hurdle.
Day 19, symptom-free,
Onward,
Lisa
Test results are in. I had my follow-up visit with the neurologist this morning.
Good news: He doesn’t believe it is MS or an MS spectrum disorder. YAY!
Other news: He doesn’t know what it is.
Next step: He is referring me to an immunologist/specialist for further study.
OK, so we’ve got one hurdle cleared! Now for the next one.
My track coach in high school taught me about hurdles. She said that in most sports, you focus on the ball so you will hit it. In hurdles, you do NOT focus on the hurdle, or you WILL hit it. You focus on the space above the hurdle. Miss Pinyan did not know she was teaching me a spiritual lesson as well.
The space above the hurdle is where God is.
So, y’all, focus with me on the space above the hurdle.
Day 19, symptom-free,
Onward,
Lisa
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Weekend harvest
The garden has been producing, folks!
Today I made salsa and canned five pints of it.
And then I canned some peach preserves and blackberry jelly, from a recent visit to a peach orchard!
I'm sure there will be a spiritual tie-in later, but for now, it's time to get ready for bed.
Sweet dreams!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Free
She was not my first choice.
The other horses- the beautiful, the gentle, the named, the favorite, the strong one- had already been spoken for. She stood there, without saddle, without bridle or reins. Stood there, waiting for me.
This was all that was left? A naked, non-descript Shetland pony?
She had a reputation, that pony. She was known to be temperamental. She’d throw you if she didn’t like you, they said. She was uncontrollable. Wild.
The camp counselor gave me an ultimatum: Ride this horse back to the base- or walk the long, hot stretch of Kansas prairie. Reluctantly, fearfully, I mounted. Everyone else had already left.
My knobby twelve-year-old knees hugged her bare back and my hands grasped the generous tufts at the base of her neck. As soon as she felt me settle, she took off after the others. I gasped and dove forward, forcing myself as close to her as I could get, clamping my elbows tight to her neck. My body jolted each time her hooves struck. My eyes pinched shut to block as much sensation as possible.
And then something amazing happened. The pony and I began to move as one.
My waist-length brown hair and her long flaxen mane galloped together, rising and falling in waves behind me as I pressed my cheek against her neck. We flew, powerful and liberated, parting the grass ocean, sailing through the wind and the sun, leaving behind my fear and her reputation.
It was the most natural, freeing experience I have ever known. It was a gift, a moment in time when an awkward, skinny girl could imagine that anything was possible. Horses could fly! And if gravity could be overcome, then problems could be, too. Hope rose from under the hooves of a plain Plains pony. My heart risked to believe: the ones who were always last to be picked could be chosen, could be loved. Each just needed the chance to prove herself.
The other horses- the beautiful, the gentle, the named, the favorite, the strong one- had already been spoken for. She stood there, without saddle, without bridle or reins. Stood there, waiting for me.
This was all that was left? A naked, non-descript Shetland pony?
She had a reputation, that pony. She was known to be temperamental. She’d throw you if she didn’t like you, they said. She was uncontrollable. Wild.
The camp counselor gave me an ultimatum: Ride this horse back to the base- or walk the long, hot stretch of Kansas prairie. Reluctantly, fearfully, I mounted. Everyone else had already left.
My knobby twelve-year-old knees hugged her bare back and my hands grasped the generous tufts at the base of her neck. As soon as she felt me settle, she took off after the others. I gasped and dove forward, forcing myself as close to her as I could get, clamping my elbows tight to her neck. My body jolted each time her hooves struck. My eyes pinched shut to block as much sensation as possible.
And then something amazing happened. The pony and I began to move as one.
My waist-length brown hair and her long flaxen mane galloped together, rising and falling in waves behind me as I pressed my cheek against her neck. We flew, powerful and liberated, parting the grass ocean, sailing through the wind and the sun, leaving behind my fear and her reputation.
It was the most natural, freeing experience I have ever known. It was a gift, a moment in time when an awkward, skinny girl could imagine that anything was possible. Horses could fly! And if gravity could be overcome, then problems could be, too. Hope rose from under the hooves of a plain Plains pony. My heart risked to believe: the ones who were always last to be picked could be chosen, could be loved. Each just needed the chance to prove herself.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Have Some Fun!
My new prayer buddy, Diane, (www.dianeapplewhite.blogspot.com) that I met on Renee Swope's blog after the She Speaks Conference, has invited me to join a little game of tag.
I was never very good at tag, but I will play, especially since I have had four (count 'em, FOUR!)good days in a row. I haven't had to even use my cane! Not that it matters, since this is cyber tag! :)
OK, this is how it works:
1-Diane tagged me.
2-I have to post 6 random things about myself on my blog.
3-I also need to post these rules. These. You're reading them.
4-Then I tag six buddies, by posting the invite on their blogs, and by posting their blog addresses at the end of mine, so you can read about them, too, if you want!
5-They get to play, too! (and send it on to six others)
6-Then I let Diane know I did it!
This is a fun way to get to know random things about each other that just wouldn't come up in "normal" conversation. Plus, the one tagged gets a little extra traffic to her blog, which is always an encouraging thing.
Read and be humored!
1. I have a crazy “talent”: I can talk like a munchkin from the Wizard of Oz- without helium. It began when I was a child, imitating the Twiddlebugs from Sesame Street. It has progressed to being able to sing the Star-Spangled Banner as a combination of Porky Pig, Whitney Houston and a munchkin. Priceless. My children will confirm its five-star embarrassment potential.
2. In college, I completed preliminary testing to qualify to join Mensa. Yeah, the high IQ club. People who know me now are probably pretty shocked to read that. That was when I had changed my major from Art to Biology, Pre-med. Then I birthed three children. Suddenly, it didn’t seem all that important!
3. I can sing songs in Japanese, Russian, Hebrew, French, Spanish and, of course, English (including that strange Star-Spangled banner). I even know what I’m singing! However, I am strictly amateur. Many people are nodding in agreement.
4. I’m only 45, but I’ve got parenting experience beyond my years: add together the ages of my three children (after their birthdays this week), their cumulative total is 64. SIXTY-FOUR! Add in my stepkids and you get 93. My husband’s and my ages together equal 94. This will be the last year we stay one step ahead of them!
5. I was born in a hospital so brand-new that I was only the third baby born there, and the first girl. When South Fulton Hospital in East Point (Atlanta), Georgia has its 50th birthday party in 2013, I’d better be invited. Or I’ll just show up and sing the Star-Spangled Banner. For real, y’all.
6. I share my birthday with the Ayatollah Khomeni. (Hopefully you are old enough to know who that was. Or Google it.) I take this to mean that I am destined to be a world leader. Or crazy. Perhaps that’s redundant. I also share the date with Sugar Ray Leonard. This means I have knockout potential. I just need a visit from Stacey and Clinton and Carmindy and Nick from “What Not to Wear”. And a personal trainer.
NOW...Whom shall I choose to tag?
1) My daughter, Sarah. www.developinhim.blogspot.com
2) My writer friend, Renee. www.reneemotley.blogspot.com
3) A sweet encourager, B. www.walkingbyfaithdownaisle15.blogspot.com
4) A fellow She-Speaker, pinkshoelady.blogspot.com
5) A fellow Lisa, who posted on my blog before. www.lisaperdue.blogspot.com
6) Hmmm. I don't have a six. Guess I'm still pretty new at this!
Y'all enjoy each other. Encourage each other daily, as our Lord directs! I can't wait to read your six random things!
And if I didn't link to you above, but you just want to reveal your random six, just leave me a comment! I'd love to get to know you!
I was never very good at tag, but I will play, especially since I have had four (count 'em, FOUR!)good days in a row. I haven't had to even use my cane! Not that it matters, since this is cyber tag! :)
OK, this is how it works:
1-Diane tagged me.
2-I have to post 6 random things about myself on my blog.
3-I also need to post these rules. These. You're reading them.
4-Then I tag six buddies, by posting the invite on their blogs, and by posting their blog addresses at the end of mine, so you can read about them, too, if you want!
5-They get to play, too! (and send it on to six others)
6-Then I let Diane know I did it!
This is a fun way to get to know random things about each other that just wouldn't come up in "normal" conversation. Plus, the one tagged gets a little extra traffic to her blog, which is always an encouraging thing.
Read and be humored!
1. I have a crazy “talent”: I can talk like a munchkin from the Wizard of Oz- without helium. It began when I was a child, imitating the Twiddlebugs from Sesame Street. It has progressed to being able to sing the Star-Spangled Banner as a combination of Porky Pig, Whitney Houston and a munchkin. Priceless. My children will confirm its five-star embarrassment potential.
2. In college, I completed preliminary testing to qualify to join Mensa. Yeah, the high IQ club. People who know me now are probably pretty shocked to read that. That was when I had changed my major from Art to Biology, Pre-med. Then I birthed three children. Suddenly, it didn’t seem all that important!
3. I can sing songs in Japanese, Russian, Hebrew, French, Spanish and, of course, English (including that strange Star-Spangled banner). I even know what I’m singing! However, I am strictly amateur. Many people are nodding in agreement.
4. I’m only 45, but I’ve got parenting experience beyond my years: add together the ages of my three children (after their birthdays this week), their cumulative total is 64. SIXTY-FOUR! Add in my stepkids and you get 93. My husband’s and my ages together equal 94. This will be the last year we stay one step ahead of them!
5. I was born in a hospital so brand-new that I was only the third baby born there, and the first girl. When South Fulton Hospital in East Point (Atlanta), Georgia has its 50th birthday party in 2013, I’d better be invited. Or I’ll just show up and sing the Star-Spangled Banner. For real, y’all.
6. I share my birthday with the Ayatollah Khomeni. (Hopefully you are old enough to know who that was. Or Google it.) I take this to mean that I am destined to be a world leader. Or crazy. Perhaps that’s redundant. I also share the date with Sugar Ray Leonard. This means I have knockout potential. I just need a visit from Stacey and Clinton and Carmindy and Nick from “What Not to Wear”. And a personal trainer.
NOW...Whom shall I choose to tag?
1) My daughter, Sarah. www.developinhim.blogspot.com
2) My writer friend, Renee. www.reneemotley.blogspot.com
3) A sweet encourager, B. www.walkingbyfaithdownaisle15.blogspot.com
4) A fellow She-Speaker, pinkshoelady.blogspot.com
5) A fellow Lisa, who posted on my blog before. www.lisaperdue.blogspot.com
6) Hmmm. I don't have a six. Guess I'm still pretty new at this!
Y'all enjoy each other. Encourage each other daily, as our Lord directs! I can't wait to read your six random things!
And if I didn't link to you above, but you just want to reveal your random six, just leave me a comment! I'd love to get to know you!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wandering Jew and accompanying Gentile
I was roaming around the house on the phone (cell phones are so cool!) with my daughter yesterday, and found myself in the sunroom. We were discussing our morning quiet times (having a Christian “adult” daughter is so cool!) when I noticed that one of the plants had decided to jump its pot. I don’t know where it thought it was going, but lengths of the vine had severed themselves from the momma plant and landed on the carpet.
“What craziness!” I thought. Closer inspection revealed that the vines had “dampened off”- the stems had rotted an inch or so above the soil. So I rescued the still-living (that is so cool!) escapees and pinched off the dead ends and set them in a glass of water to re-root. I exiled them to another part of the room, where they could be protected until they were ready to re-plant.
The name of the plant? Wandering Jew.
My quiet time study earlier that morning? The return of the exiles to Jerusalem.
Tell me God doesn’t have both impeccable timing and a keen sense of humor.
I’ve never considered myself to be much of an Old Testament scholar. But recent Sunday School lessons have had me digging into history to try to put it all together. Basically, I’m trying to gain some chronological understanding of the prophets, the exile, the return to Jerusalem and all the kings involved. Stuff that I’ve “historically” (smile) found boring has now piqued my interest. (Tell me God doesn’t work miracles! Next thing you know, he’ll have me fascinated with numbers. Hear that sound? My husband and children are laughing uncontrollably. One day I will tell you the story of The Fit of Rage and The Algebra Book, by Lisa Roszler.)
Did you know that not all the Jews returned when they were allowed? Nope. Some just stayed behind in Babylon. “Y’all go on ahead! Be safe! I’m happy for you!”
Maybe they’d been there so long that it felt like home. Their children were born there, their new homes were comfortable. Perhaps they had no need of the old ways, couldn’t identify with the homeland, had lost their religion? Forgotten what it was all about? Maybe they had become so assimilated that they were unrecognizable, even to themselves, as being a different, chosen people.
Then a profound thought hit me.
I am a modern-day exile. Where is my Babylon? America? This planet? Am I so enamored (see that root “amor”-love?) with this present life that I have failed to remember where I truly belong? Am I trying to make my heaven on earth? Have I forgotten what my life is to be about? Am I recognizable as being a citizen of Heaven, Zion, New Jerusalem? Do I long to return?
Those sprigs of vine will soon grow roots, but they can’t live forever in a glass of water. They need soil. They need home soil. Just like this Wandering Gentile. Praise God He gives us His Word, His Living Water to remain in until He takes us home!
“What craziness!” I thought. Closer inspection revealed that the vines had “dampened off”- the stems had rotted an inch or so above the soil. So I rescued the still-living (that is so cool!) escapees and pinched off the dead ends and set them in a glass of water to re-root. I exiled them to another part of the room, where they could be protected until they were ready to re-plant.
The name of the plant? Wandering Jew.
My quiet time study earlier that morning? The return of the exiles to Jerusalem.
Tell me God doesn’t have both impeccable timing and a keen sense of humor.
I’ve never considered myself to be much of an Old Testament scholar. But recent Sunday School lessons have had me digging into history to try to put it all together. Basically, I’m trying to gain some chronological understanding of the prophets, the exile, the return to Jerusalem and all the kings involved. Stuff that I’ve “historically” (smile) found boring has now piqued my interest. (Tell me God doesn’t work miracles! Next thing you know, he’ll have me fascinated with numbers. Hear that sound? My husband and children are laughing uncontrollably. One day I will tell you the story of The Fit of Rage and The Algebra Book, by Lisa Roszler.)
Did you know that not all the Jews returned when they were allowed? Nope. Some just stayed behind in Babylon. “Y’all go on ahead! Be safe! I’m happy for you!”
Maybe they’d been there so long that it felt like home. Their children were born there, their new homes were comfortable. Perhaps they had no need of the old ways, couldn’t identify with the homeland, had lost their religion? Forgotten what it was all about? Maybe they had become so assimilated that they were unrecognizable, even to themselves, as being a different, chosen people.
Then a profound thought hit me.
I am a modern-day exile. Where is my Babylon? America? This planet? Am I so enamored (see that root “amor”-love?) with this present life that I have failed to remember where I truly belong? Am I trying to make my heaven on earth? Have I forgotten what my life is to be about? Am I recognizable as being a citizen of Heaven, Zion, New Jerusalem? Do I long to return?
Those sprigs of vine will soon grow roots, but they can’t live forever in a glass of water. They need soil. They need home soil. Just like this Wandering Gentile. Praise God He gives us His Word, His Living Water to remain in until He takes us home!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Not to goad you, but...
It has been reported that before the Indonesian tsunami hit, the wildlife started heading for higher ground, even before the humans were aware it was coming. Scientists call it “instinct”.
What is instinct? It’s a prompting. In comes from a Latin root word that means “prick or goad”.
Goad. That word makes me smile, because a scripture I never understood comes to mind. I remember reading in Acts 26:14 when Saul was blinded on the road to Damascus. Jesus said to him, “It is hard for you to kick against the goads.” Do what?
Evidently, “kicking against the goads” is old Greek-speak for “useless resistance”. Ever seen a child throwing a (non-public) temper tantrum in the presence of a patient mother? She’ll let him wear himself out, because she’s not giving in.
Hmmm. So instinct has to do with a pricking or goading. Seems to me it comes from our patient Father. He prompts. He waits out the temper tantrum. Maybe we get wise and listen and follow His lead. Maybe we continue to kick against Him.
There’s another scripture with “goad” in it: “The words of the wise are like goads, their collected sayings like firmly embedded nails- given by one Shepherd.” (Ecclesiastes 12:11) What colorful imagery! Lest your imagination lead you astray, those nails are not the Shepherd’s fingernails in your arm, pulling you along! My Bible references the term back to Ezra, who speaks of God’s grace in giving the remnant of Israel a “firm place”, literally a nail or peg, in His sanctuary.
I like the thought of having a peg in His sanctuary, a place to hang my coat and stay awhile. In my mind I see a row of personalized nursery school cubbies: there’s even a place for my shoes- but baggage is left curbside.
Do I hear God prompting me? He’s singing Newsboys- again:
“It’s just a Spirit thing, it’s just a Holy nudge,
It’s like a circuit judge in the brain.
It’s just a Spirit thing, it’s here to guard my heart,
It’s just a little hard to explain.
It pushes when I quit, it smells a counterfeit,
And it works a bit like a teleprompter.
When it’s teleprompting you, I pray you let it through…”
And the Spirit whispers, “Travel light, go in haste! Head for higher ground!”
What is instinct? It’s a prompting. In comes from a Latin root word that means “prick or goad”.
Goad. That word makes me smile, because a scripture I never understood comes to mind. I remember reading in Acts 26:14 when Saul was blinded on the road to Damascus. Jesus said to him, “It is hard for you to kick against the goads.” Do what?
Evidently, “kicking against the goads” is old Greek-speak for “useless resistance”. Ever seen a child throwing a (non-public) temper tantrum in the presence of a patient mother? She’ll let him wear himself out, because she’s not giving in.
Hmmm. So instinct has to do with a pricking or goading. Seems to me it comes from our patient Father. He prompts. He waits out the temper tantrum. Maybe we get wise and listen and follow His lead. Maybe we continue to kick against Him.
There’s another scripture with “goad” in it: “The words of the wise are like goads, their collected sayings like firmly embedded nails- given by one Shepherd.” (Ecclesiastes 12:11) What colorful imagery! Lest your imagination lead you astray, those nails are not the Shepherd’s fingernails in your arm, pulling you along! My Bible references the term back to Ezra, who speaks of God’s grace in giving the remnant of Israel a “firm place”, literally a nail or peg, in His sanctuary.
I like the thought of having a peg in His sanctuary, a place to hang my coat and stay awhile. In my mind I see a row of personalized nursery school cubbies: there’s even a place for my shoes- but baggage is left curbside.
Do I hear God prompting me? He’s singing Newsboys- again:
“It’s just a Spirit thing, it’s just a Holy nudge,
It’s like a circuit judge in the brain.
It’s just a Spirit thing, it’s here to guard my heart,
It’s just a little hard to explain.
It pushes when I quit, it smells a counterfeit,
And it works a bit like a teleprompter.
When it’s teleprompting you, I pray you let it through…”
And the Spirit whispers, “Travel light, go in haste! Head for higher ground!”
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Happy
This will not be a long post. It will also be my only post this week.
I am packing to go out of town (to Charleston and Georgetown, SC) for our 13th anniversary. We are celebrating a marriage that almost didn't make it past the shaky 8th anniversary. I spent the 8th (July 03) packing up my kids' stuff to take to them when they'd had to move in with their biological dad after our lives fell apart in June of 03.
Now, with God's grace, we not only celebrate our anniversary, but will also soon celebrate a year of being back in the same house together! I will have to post more about that later.
For now, I am posting pictures of my garden.
During those four years of separation, I clung to Isaiah 51:3.
"The LORD will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on all her ruins: he will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands
like the garden of the LORD. 
Joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing." My wasteland has become a garden. You can often find me there, because it brings me great joy. Sometimes I am hidden among the plants as I weed or tend, but all you have to do to locate me is listen for the sound of singing.
May God put a song in your heart today!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Get the Point
Remember how your mama told you not to point your finger at anyone because you’ll have three pointing back at you? Go ahead, try it. Point your finger. See your other three fingers pointing right back to you? Hmmm. Guess that old saying had some truth.
Today, I pointed someone to a scripture. And guess what? God pointed it right back at me! But, hey, this was a good thing!
I sent a new friend to Psalm 63:7: “Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings.” (NIV) I just love that scripture. It was the one I put in my pocket last year at our Christmas production when the character I played had to sing. I’m a nervous one when it comes to being on stage in the first place and singing compounded that nervousness by about six hundred times. But I knew I had that affirmation right there in my pocket and, ladies and gentlemen, the show went on! It was in my pocket again on Mother’s Day, when I sang Anita Renfroe’s “Mom Song” before our congregation.
Scripture is powerful, my friends!
Well, today I was doing my quiet time. I usually do it before getting on the computer and checking on my bloggy friends, but today, I did it after pointing the new friend to Psalm 63. That was still on my heart, so I decided to read it for myself again. And then I looked across the table to the books I was reading yesterday. There sat The Message, which is a modern Bible translation.
Here’s how The Message translates Psalm 63:7:
“Because you’ve always stood up for me, I’m free to run and play. I hold onto you for dear life, and you hold me steady as a post.”
Steady. Not exactly my physical state right now. My husband calls me his “Weeble Wife”. According to the old commercial, “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.” Why? Because they have heavy, rounded bottoms. Yep. OK, while I do acknowledge the similarities and admit that this baby do got back, that would not be the reason why this particular Weeble Woman does not fall down.
I am holding onto my Jesus for dear life and He holds me steady as a post.
And that part about being “free to run”? Did I just not sing those very words in a Newsboys song?
What a fantastic thing to find! An old favorite scripture has fresh meaning! Are not God’s mercies new every morning? Hallelujah!
OK, now I just gotta go inquire of old King James and the Living Bible and…
Today, I pointed someone to a scripture. And guess what? God pointed it right back at me! But, hey, this was a good thing!
I sent a new friend to Psalm 63:7: “Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings.” (NIV) I just love that scripture. It was the one I put in my pocket last year at our Christmas production when the character I played had to sing. I’m a nervous one when it comes to being on stage in the first place and singing compounded that nervousness by about six hundred times. But I knew I had that affirmation right there in my pocket and, ladies and gentlemen, the show went on! It was in my pocket again on Mother’s Day, when I sang Anita Renfroe’s “Mom Song” before our congregation.
Scripture is powerful, my friends!
Well, today I was doing my quiet time. I usually do it before getting on the computer and checking on my bloggy friends, but today, I did it after pointing the new friend to Psalm 63. That was still on my heart, so I decided to read it for myself again. And then I looked across the table to the books I was reading yesterday. There sat The Message, which is a modern Bible translation.
Here’s how The Message translates Psalm 63:7:
“Because you’ve always stood up for me, I’m free to run and play. I hold onto you for dear life, and you hold me steady as a post.”
Steady. Not exactly my physical state right now. My husband calls me his “Weeble Wife”. According to the old commercial, “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.” Why? Because they have heavy, rounded bottoms. Yep. OK, while I do acknowledge the similarities and admit that this baby do got back, that would not be the reason why this particular Weeble Woman does not fall down.
I am holding onto my Jesus for dear life and He holds me steady as a post.
And that part about being “free to run”? Did I just not sing those very words in a Newsboys song?
What a fantastic thing to find! An old favorite scripture has fresh meaning! Are not God’s mercies new every morning? Hallelujah!
OK, now I just gotta go inquire of old King James and the Living Bible and…
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Ode to Beautiful Feet
Cute shoes are climbing up my list of life’s good things.
It’s because I find myself looking at my own feet a lot lately. I have to watch where they are going so that I don’t a) fall in my “disequilibrium”, or b) step in an ant hill, after last month’s allergic reaction episode. (Read the June 9 post entitled “Kiss My Grits!”)
Now, generally I do not pay much attention to feet. I have not considered them to be worthy of noting. I mean, c’mon- how many famous pieces of artwork have been devoted to them? Can you even think of any? In fact, many artists say feet are the most difficult body part to accurately render. Feet are utilitarian. Mundane. They are (forgive me) pedestrian.
I was watching TV the other day and a commercial came on for this egg-shaped callous remover thingy. The women were shown scrubbing it all over their scaly feet. Then they demonstrated the effectiveness of the device by (GAG!) emptying the reservoir onto a cloth…in full view of the audience! Boy, talk about an appetite suppressant! I ran into the bathroom (well, “ran” is probably an exaggeration considering the fact that I can’t even walk fast right now) and soaked my feet in the tub as a preventative measure.
Nobody wants scaly feet. We want beautiful feet.
God has something to say about that.
“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news,” He says in Isaiah 52:7. And in Psalm 121:1, He talks about lifting our eyes to look to the hills, to search for help. That help, the psalmist says, comes from God, who made the mountain. Put it together and you’ve got a vision of one coming from God with good news. That one is Christ. And then, because we are to be His hands and feet, it becomes our legacy. We are to have the beautiful feet that bring the Good News, to help others.
He enables us to go on the heights. (Habakkuk 3:19) That’s where we are empowered.
He leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. (Psalm 23:4) That’s where the lost are.
He will not let our foot slip.(Psalm 121:3) That’s His protection.
Jesus had the most beautiful feet in the whole world and I can inherit them!
Gotta go, y’all. My feet (and my spirit) need a little soak in preparation of some mountain climbing and valley searching. I’ve got the added benefit of Old Navy’s black and white scrollwork satin flats on clearance for $15. But as for that TV scrubby thing...
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