When I think that I started writing as a way to express my thoughts on the things God reveals to me through the small happenings in my daily life, it kinda scared me when I noticed I hadn’t written anything in over two weeks. Has it really been that long since God spoke to me?! Of course not. It’s just that I've been soooo busy! Sometimes my mind gets soooo overwhelmed that God finds other ways to get my attention.
It’s the end of the school year and my son’s math teacher had given the class a practice test to determine what they needed to focus on before the real test. He had missed quite a few, and we were working them out to make sure he understood how to get the right answers. After we had done several problems, he says, "I sure am glad this was just the practice test and not the real one." I asked him why. He said, "Because I wouldn’t have done so good." After the week I’d had, that really hit home.
My goal had been to finish my "spring cleaning" by the first of May because that starts about three months of non-stop go-go-go for me. There are school band concerts, awards days, graduations, field days, and other end-of-the-year activities. There are birthdays, birthday parties, family cookouts, family reunions. There’s Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and decorations at four different cemeteries. We have Vacation Bible School, the church trip to Gatlinburg, and the much needed week at the beach to plan for. This year Dylan is going to two bible camps and a summer camp. Plus this year we have added a bridal shower and a wedding, and all the pregnant women I know are having their babies this summer. Somewhere in there I also have a full-time job, laundry to wash, meals to cook, shopping to do, and errands to run. I would like to say I handled all this by keeping my cool and displaying much grace. Uh, wrong!
When my brain has a task to complete, it goes into overdrive and doesn’t stop until it either burns out, gives up or reaches a solution. I spent more than a few restless nights. Then God reminded me of my remedy for these times. I made a lunch date with a pen and paper and got all my ideas written down. The list was made and I now had a plan to proceed. I realized that everything on my calendar was put there by none other than yours truly. A lot of those "appointments" were there because that’s what I felt like I needed to do or was just what I’d always done. I was really feeling the affects of self-induced stress. So I got online - vacation reservations confirmed - camp enrollment forms printed - decoration flowers bought. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
I couldn't believe what happened next! Our awesome God gave me not one, but two opportunities- in the same day mind you - to redeem myself !
It was a typical day at our office, appointments booked every thirty minutes, clients coming in with information for their file, and the occasional person wandering in off the street looking for some quick legal advice. I don’t know who the woman was or where she came from, but she struck a chord with all who were in the office right then. She first told her story to my co-worker, who in turn asked me to see if I could help her. She said her father had passed away that morning in New York, and she was doing odd jobs around town trying to raise the money to pay for her bus ticket to get there. She was $17.00 short. It was after 4:00 in the afternoon, and her bus was scheduled to leave at 5:15. She was about six months pregnant and so far that day she had washed dishes, done some yard/housework, and even changed a flat tire on someone’s vehicle. With her greasy hands, she laid a baggie on my counter with some bead bracelets and some silver charms she was trying to sell. She promised that if I helped her she would be back on Friday to repay me.
Now we hear a lot of "sob stories" in our line of work, and have become somewhat able to determine the legitimates from the drama queens. Unfortunately, we have also become immune to a lot of it. But this woman telling her story had me practically in tears by the time she finished. I bent down and got what cash I could find in my purse - a whole $7.00. I handed it to her, apologized for not having more, and told her she most definitely did not have to pay me back. A lady waiting in our lobby had overheard and seen the entire conversation, and also pulled out some cash and gave it the woman - $11.00 I think - and told her the same thing. The look on the woman’s face was pure appreciation - and shock that we hadn’t made her sweep the floor or clean the windows in return for the money.
I guess it’s possible this woman could have simply been out begging for money to go do who-knows-what with, but I don’t think so. She didn’t look like a "junkie," she didn’t sound like she was intoxicated or influenced in any way. And I don’t think I would have been moved to such a degree if she had not been telling the truth. At any rate, I was only out $7.00 and, as the saying goes, if she can live with it, I can live without it. If I don’t have enough Christian love in me to give somebody a measly $7.00 when they appear to have a sincere need, then I don’t deserve to call myself a Christian.
Later that evening, I had to make a quick run to the store for a few things. I was waiting in line at the checkout while the cashier finished with the customer ahead of me, when I overhead my cashier ask the cashier at the next register if she had anything for heartburn. I knew I had one heartburn pill in my purse and automatically got it ready to hand her when it was my turn to pay. She began ringing up my things, and I reached over and handed her the packet with the medicine. She gave a sigh of relief and thanked me profusely. I explained that I could sympathize with her pain and was happy to help. In the back of my mind I was hoping we wouldn't get in trouble by the all-seeing eyes who may have misunderstood what was going on. But I was able to leave the store without incident.
So, like my son, I didn’t do so hot on the practice test. I apologize to all my loyal followers (ha!ha!) for not writing before now. You can rest assured, God has not stopped talking. He just has to get a little creative to get through all the chaos that is my mind. Sometimes he even has to physically stand in front of me to get me to pay attention. I’m so glad God gives us second chances...and third...and fourth...and one hundredth!
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To
Where were you Saturday?! I had a party and nobody came! Ok, truth be told, it was a pity party, and you would not have enjoyed it. It was no fun. Three weeks of big bills and no "extra" money can make a girl blue. That was me. No full tank of gas to waste this week, just what I need. No big trip to Wal-mart for a full grocery buying experience, just a quick run to the Dollar Store and Foodland for the essentials. I had to keep reminding myself, "I’m Blessed!" But didn’t God know and understand that we NEED all that other stuff?!
Blessed? You bet! Spoiled? Maybe a little. The kids don’t have to have three boxes of cereal and waffles and pancakes to choose from for breakfast. We don’t have to have a different meal for supper every night. (We’ll be having beans, cornbread and fried potatoes every night this week. If you want to stop by about 6:30, you’re welcome to join us - just let me know ahead of time so I make sure to have plenty.) The slightest thing was starting to get to me. I was accomplishing nothing on my to-do list. My mind wouldn’t rest for trying to figure out how to make it all work. I tried to pop some popcorn, it burned. Went to pour myself a glass of tea, somebody had drank it all. I was sure I’d feel better if I could just make it to read some scriptures or a devotional book. But first I had to hand wash all those dishes. Finally, I just cried into the dishwater. That’s when God started talking to me - or, rather, when I started listening.
I went to my youngest son and apologized for snapping at him earlier, especially in front of his friends. I finished cleaning up the kitchen, tidied up the living room, folded some laundry and put more to washing. I made a loaf of cinnamon bread (anything to get rid of that burned popcorn smell!) I took a look at my checkbook and made a mental note that if I played it just right, we’d make it (not that we wouldn’t have anyway, but it made me feel better to see it in writing).
Then I retreated to my bathroom, ran some water, sat on the edge of the tub and put my feet in, and began reading my Sunday School lesson for the week. John 6:27 - "Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of man shall give unto you..." Verse 35 - "And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." Of course there were other verses in the lesson, and the writer’s commentary really hit home. I had taken my focus off the bread that really mattered, the bread that God provides me with daily. I was more worried about the literal bread that I didn’t have.
As I finished my home pedicure (which I actually wasn’t doing out of necessity, but because that’s my "girl time"), I continued to pray and think, and God continued to listen and respond. I prayed that all the discontentment, all the disappointment I felt toward myself and the things I had failed to do today, would be forgiven and taken from me. After all, tomorrow is Sunday. The Lord’s day. He deserves none of my bitterness. Only my praise. That's all I wanted to carry with me.
So if I ever invite you to one of my pity parties, feel free to not show up. Only one guest is truly needed. He is my best friend and He understands me like nobody else does. It's my party, and if I want to cry, He's ok with that.
Blessed? You bet! Spoiled? Maybe a little. The kids don’t have to have three boxes of cereal and waffles and pancakes to choose from for breakfast. We don’t have to have a different meal for supper every night. (We’ll be having beans, cornbread and fried potatoes every night this week. If you want to stop by about 6:30, you’re welcome to join us - just let me know ahead of time so I make sure to have plenty.) The slightest thing was starting to get to me. I was accomplishing nothing on my to-do list. My mind wouldn’t rest for trying to figure out how to make it all work. I tried to pop some popcorn, it burned. Went to pour myself a glass of tea, somebody had drank it all. I was sure I’d feel better if I could just make it to read some scriptures or a devotional book. But first I had to hand wash all those dishes. Finally, I just cried into the dishwater. That’s when God started talking to me - or, rather, when I started listening.
I went to my youngest son and apologized for snapping at him earlier, especially in front of his friends. I finished cleaning up the kitchen, tidied up the living room, folded some laundry and put more to washing. I made a loaf of cinnamon bread (anything to get rid of that burned popcorn smell!) I took a look at my checkbook and made a mental note that if I played it just right, we’d make it (not that we wouldn’t have anyway, but it made me feel better to see it in writing).
Then I retreated to my bathroom, ran some water, sat on the edge of the tub and put my feet in, and began reading my Sunday School lesson for the week. John 6:27 - "Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of man shall give unto you..." Verse 35 - "And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." Of course there were other verses in the lesson, and the writer’s commentary really hit home. I had taken my focus off the bread that really mattered, the bread that God provides me with daily. I was more worried about the literal bread that I didn’t have.
As I finished my home pedicure (which I actually wasn’t doing out of necessity, but because that’s my "girl time"), I continued to pray and think, and God continued to listen and respond. I prayed that all the discontentment, all the disappointment I felt toward myself and the things I had failed to do today, would be forgiven and taken from me. After all, tomorrow is Sunday. The Lord’s day. He deserves none of my bitterness. Only my praise. That's all I wanted to carry with me.
So if I ever invite you to one of my pity parties, feel free to not show up. Only one guest is truly needed. He is my best friend and He understands me like nobody else does. It's my party, and if I want to cry, He's ok with that.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
The Old Violin
A man shared this story with us at church last night. I had never heard it before and it really touched me. I thought I would share it with you, in case you haven't heard it either. I hope you can open this video and watch. If not, you could probably find another version the same way I found this one - just google J.D. Sumner's story of the violin, "Touch of the Master's Hand." I hope you enjoy it.
Like the preacher said last night, sometimes we all get scratched up and dusty. But a touch by the master can clean us up and make our value 1,000 times our original asking price. Beautiful story. Thank you Jesus!
Like the preacher said last night, sometimes we all get scratched up and dusty. But a touch by the master can clean us up and make our value 1,000 times our original asking price. Beautiful story. Thank you Jesus!
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Show & Tell
I have learned a very humbling lesson during my "spring cleaning" the past few weeks. I have learned my limitations. I have learned that I am capable of doing more than I thought I could. My patience has been tried. My stick-with-it-ness has been tested. I am glad to say that I have made great progress in both my physical cleaning and my spiritual cleaning. But it hasn’t been easy.
It’s not easy to clean a room with three men/boys trapsing through continuously. It’s not easy to keep your thoughts on God when the tv is blaring in the other room. And it’s extremely frustrating when you leave the windows up to let in the breeze and your husband decides that’s the perfect time to stir up the dust outside (by that I mean mow the yard). I guess things will need to be dusted again sooner than I had hoped. I could feel the rope slipping through my hands, no knot in sight, and I prayed I wouldn’t have to "break bad on some people" (as my son would say).
So, imagine my surprise when I got home from work yesterday and found the shop-vac sitting beside the front door. My initial thought was, "Oh no, what did they break now?" But when I turned to close the door, I also noticed the clean windows. I glanced over to the living room window, and it too was sparkly. I looked at my husband (trying to look like he was really into the tv and totally ignoring my reaction) and said, "Good job!" His smile told me just how proud he was of himself. But then reality check - he said, "Well that wasn’t the response I was expecting." I asked him what response he was looking for exactly. "Well I don’t know, but it wasn’t good." I know I complain a lot, but really?!
He went on to explain how he and my son had cleaned the windows and vacuumed all the stuff out of the window sills in the living room. (I know that sounds gross, but it should give you an idea of just how dirty my house had gotten.) Then my old self started talking, "Why did you stop? It’s not even 6:00 and there are plenty of other windows you could have done. You’ve got three hours till bedtime." Whoa, girl! Where’s your mercy? "But it took me an hour and a half to do this much." His smile was gone. I had just let the air out of his bubble, and I felt horrible. "I’m sorry. It looks good. Thank you." He promptly carried my son’s dirty dishes from that morning to the sink, threw away his own trash and put his empty Dr. Pepper cans in the bin out back. Smiling again.
Later, as I was walking the track with my sister-in-law, it occurred to me that this whole cleaning thing - my goal for my house to be the way I want it - it’s not about me. Ok, it’s not just about me. I realized that what I was doing was starting to affect those around me, and maybe this time not for the worse. My boys are starting to pick up after themselves more. They help more readily than before. Things are more settled and routine. Peaceful if you will.
I have learned a lot, but God still has more to teach me. I guess it’s time I start showing instead of just telling. After all, I'm not in kindergarten anymore.
It’s not easy to clean a room with three men/boys trapsing through continuously. It’s not easy to keep your thoughts on God when the tv is blaring in the other room. And it’s extremely frustrating when you leave the windows up to let in the breeze and your husband decides that’s the perfect time to stir up the dust outside (by that I mean mow the yard). I guess things will need to be dusted again sooner than I had hoped. I could feel the rope slipping through my hands, no knot in sight, and I prayed I wouldn’t have to "break bad on some people" (as my son would say).
So, imagine my surprise when I got home from work yesterday and found the shop-vac sitting beside the front door. My initial thought was, "Oh no, what did they break now?" But when I turned to close the door, I also noticed the clean windows. I glanced over to the living room window, and it too was sparkly. I looked at my husband (trying to look like he was really into the tv and totally ignoring my reaction) and said, "Good job!" His smile told me just how proud he was of himself. But then reality check - he said, "Well that wasn’t the response I was expecting." I asked him what response he was looking for exactly. "Well I don’t know, but it wasn’t good." I know I complain a lot, but really?!
He went on to explain how he and my son had cleaned the windows and vacuumed all the stuff out of the window sills in the living room. (I know that sounds gross, but it should give you an idea of just how dirty my house had gotten.) Then my old self started talking, "Why did you stop? It’s not even 6:00 and there are plenty of other windows you could have done. You’ve got three hours till bedtime." Whoa, girl! Where’s your mercy? "But it took me an hour and a half to do this much." His smile was gone. I had just let the air out of his bubble, and I felt horrible. "I’m sorry. It looks good. Thank you." He promptly carried my son’s dirty dishes from that morning to the sink, threw away his own trash and put his empty Dr. Pepper cans in the bin out back. Smiling again.
Later, as I was walking the track with my sister-in-law, it occurred to me that this whole cleaning thing - my goal for my house to be the way I want it - it’s not about me. Ok, it’s not just about me. I realized that what I was doing was starting to affect those around me, and maybe this time not for the worse. My boys are starting to pick up after themselves more. They help more readily than before. Things are more settled and routine. Peaceful if you will.
I have learned a lot, but God still has more to teach me. I guess it’s time I start showing instead of just telling. After all, I'm not in kindergarten anymore.
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