All I Want For Christmas is My Three Front Teeth

Merry Christmas

The last apron has been washed, dried and folded, kettle locks all removed, all of the pointsettias picked up and traveled home, jingle bells and extra toys all organized away, UW proposals prepared and delivered, gifts given, cookies prepared and shared - whew, what a season! A marvelous Advent season, in the presence of our LORD, and yet the other side of the same coin has been some very tense communication. This season has included many experiences that have just felt like they haven't been completely in synch, like an unannounced tug of war or an unexpected struggle that doesn't have complete resolution. A little bit like the board game Mousetrap that isn't exactly spaced right so even though all the parts in the chain reaction activate, the final piece, the basket doesn't descend to capture the rodent waiting in the space at the bottom.

Some days were filled with sunshine and glory and others I just felt like a great big Christmas grouch.

I am convicted of the reality that me and my family are very blessed - we are healthy, cared for, fed and protected in shelter, encouraged towards the pursuit of education and love, out of threat and danger. This little black rain cloud that has returned on different days has not been welcome or understood, and then without explanation simply floats away. Somethings were quite funny, others not so much, and many of them dealt with the dentist.

:K. has adopted a new Christmas song for herself, because of her dental experience. "All I want for Christmas is my three front teeth..." K. had a baby tooth in the front space which wouldn't release even though the adult tooth was coming in plain and clear. When arranging a dental visit in July for its extraction (so it wouldn't affect the shape and placement of her grown-up smile) the dentist simply smiled and said so confidently, "I won't need to pull it, its ready to come out any day now. You'll probably lose it at the beach." So not listening to mom, this dentist convinced my baby that all she needed was an apple and a little tongue wiggling and she would be waiting for a visit from the tooth fairy. Ooh, nothing frosts my cupcakes like being ignored! So...18 weeks later there is still a baby tooth, an adult tooth behind it longer than the tooth in front of it and a very frustrated mother who is getting more frustrated as the evening ritual has included a dramatic, forceful tooth wiggling every night in this little mouth. Another visit, in December, this time for a cleaning for everyone and the dentist's look of surprise and embarrassment to recognize that squirrelly tooth still there. I insisted on its extraction again, very insistent this time about its date...it will make all the difference. My family has met the insurance deductible for the year, and all coverage will be 100% until 12/31. What could have been a few weeks wait all of a sudden became a 6 day turn-around and K. finally got that tooth pulled. She was resembling a shark for a while, with a second row for teeth, "her three front teeth" - can you imagine?!.

:there were 52 people in church on Sunday! Passing out the last songbook from the shelf and making room for more coats were encouraging signs of sacred activity. I don't know how many of these people are going to stay with the congregation but they have included worship with us within their spiritual journey. Sure, many were there because of their annual Christmas service with mom and for a chance at a present or two and a light meal, but their presence was welcome regardless of the personal agenda. A son home from a successful boot camp requested the prayer of safety, and his mother found within that simple request the answer to her decade-long prayer for his quest for God. It was a gift from God, given without wrapping and bows.

:there is no manual to help advise or guide a child through the journey of parental divorce and dating. Even though I am 40, my mother having a boyfriend, now fiance, has stirred up unexpected feelings which aren't really anger, and aren't truly hurt, and aren't fully rational. They are just weird, plain and simple. Hearing her conversations with these new people, these new "family?" have a skewed perspective I do not appreciate or understand. My children are aware of the differences of her "stories" and are curious what they are supposed to do. So am I.

:it was 3:45 a.m. when TANK was stirring on Christmas morning...3:45 a.m.

:N. and A. both need braces and had an orthodontic visit which begins the process for the 2 of them. We have a small portfolio with some amazing pictures and structural placement of their teeth - truly cool stuff - but my mind is spinning at the thought of impending orthodontia. Their appointment was scheduled right before A. piano lesson and she just cried her whole way through her 1/2 hour with her teacher. She was so upset thinking she had done something wrong to make her mouth need braces...my poor little sweetie.

:I do not respond to bellowing or finger snapping when someone is trying to get my attention. If I'm in another room, please wait till I return or come find me. Standing still and bellowing will be a lonely, public yelling experience for you if you want to capture my attention...I will not come for a bellowing yell. I will never do it to someone else and I will never promote it as acceptable communication towards people I respect. I don't even do it to pets, intending to capture their attention by speaking their name. A pet deserves the dignity and grace of someone using their name, and so does a person. And so do I. Forgot my name, I accept "dear" "love" "honey" or "Captain" but never "hey you." So as one of my volunteers who was counting kettle money, like he had everyday for the entire Christmas season was snapping his insistent fingers, my natural reaction was saying in my mind, "I know he isn't talking to me. He must be talking to someone else." His actions then began including a "hey" and "hey you" and then a bellowing "hey you there" with that snapping, agitated movement when I was still completing the 10,000 things I had to do that morning and had to leave the room. I came back about 2 minutes later, still unaware he had been trying to tell me something until I saw his beet red face. "Hey you" he snapped and bellowed again, and to his frustration, someone else exclaimed, "Oh were you talking to Jessie?" "I didn't know all that was for me, " I exclaimed. "I don't respond to snapping and bellowing, never have, never will. But I'll get what you need..." and I swear, the women in the room sat up a little straighter, a little prouder and little more dignified. They have obviously been the recipient of the snapping "hey you", and it is so avoidable. I must insist that the communication around our tables must have layers of grace and dignity intertwined through the words and intentions.

And that is all I have to say about that.

Bells ringing

Merry Christmas

On my knees, outside in the driveway balancing a flashlight between my shoulder and my chin, I can see the culprit that has been my nemesis for weeks. Poised just beyond reach, I can see the gleam of its reflection as it coyly enjoys its placement directly under the back bench seat of the minivan. The construction of the van seats has permitted incredible amounts of knee room for child and adult who occupy the back seat, but there is no room underneath the seat to reach in and grasp anything.

And in this absolutely unreachable spot, so close and yet so far, too small to permit my hand, too cramped to navigate my arm, too tight to manipulate my wrist, there shines the lone jingle bell.

It fell off its band of leather back in November as I travelled a Christmas kettle bell ringer from his daily location to his home. As I navigated the town, he gave the needed directions and we helped him out of the van carefully for it was quite icy and his street has a pronounced incline. In the few minutes this all took, this loose jingle bell rolled to the back of the van, drooped into the well which holds the seat and has remained there all Christmas season.

Every left turn has been punctuated by its definite jingle. Every parking lot speed bump is another chance to be reminded this bell remains in the van. Each pothole rings true and clear. I feel like Santa’s sleigh all over town, every day. My 1 ½ hour drive to my seminary classes had normally been a very intentional thinking time, with no radio or book on tape as distraction…but with this jingle bell just beyond reach, my ride resembles a Christmas toy delivery extravaganza. Travelling to brass band rehearsal each week in the neighboring county has become a jangling, jingling headache. Santa only needs to listen to those sleigh bells one night – this has been a 6 weeks prison.

I hate that bell.

I must make the effort to get it; it won’t go away on its own. I have to make the time – it won’t take much, I just have to do it. I need to empty the trunk, remove the seat, get some tweezers and climb into the trunk and stretch. It might help to have a magnet stick, we’ll see. Even though there are so many obligations and responsibilities interlaced within ministry and family life this Christmas season, I find this task is becoming more imperative – I gotta stop this bell from ringing! I have been repeating Rose Hartwick Thorpe’s poem, “Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight”, whispering it under my breath with new emphasis and connection – I feel compelled, like the poem’s heroine Bessie, to get to that bell, to keep it from ringing before I absolutely lose my composure.

Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight. http://womenshistory.about.com/library/etext/poem1/blp_thorpe_curfew.htm These are stanzas of a love story with compelling sacrifice, dramatic, essential action and persuasive personal investment. If the bell rings, her lover will be executed for whatever crime he has been accused. The only authority who can grant pardon will not arrive until after the curfew bell rings. So the reader finds Bessie poised within a decision…

She has reached the topmost ladder, o'er her hangs the great dark bell;
Awful is the gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to hell.
See! the ponderous tongue is swinging; 'tis the hour of curfew now,
And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath, and paled her brow.
Shall she let it ring? No, never! Her eyes flash with sudden light,
As she springs, and grasps it firmly: "Curfew shall not ring to-night!"

Out she swung,-- far out. The city Seemed a speck of light below,--
There twixt heaven and earth suspended, As the bell swung to and fro.
And the sexton at the bell-rope, old and deaf, heard not the bell,
Sadly thought that twilight curfew rang young Basil's funeral knell.
Still the maiden, clinging firmly, quivering lip and fair face white,
Stilled her frightened heart's wild throbbing: "Curfew shall not ring tonight!"

O'er the distant hills comes Cromwell. Bessie sees him; and her brow,
Lately white with sickening horror, has no anxious traces now.
At his feet she tells her story, shows her hands, all bruised and torn;
And her sweet young face, still hagggard, with the anguish it had worn,
Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light.
"Go! your lover lives," said Cromwell. "Curfew shall not ring to-night!"

In the face of decision, compelling love underscored the need for sacrifice. She covers the clapper of the bell with her own body, feeling the crushing blows as the bell is attempted to be rung. Because of the depth of her love, she experienced pain. The guilt of the one accused is never in question.

Compelling love underscores the need for sacrifice. Christ’s love for us can be expressed within those same parameters. In the face of mankind’s eternal separation from God because of sin, Christ stepped out – far out – into this world, born as a child whose birth emphasized with divine punctuation, “Emannuel God with us!” God’s immeasurable love through Christ did not dispute the guilt of mankind. God’s indescribable love through Christ faced sacrifice. It was not a sacrifice observed from a distance, but up close, involved and personal.

Between earth and heaven suspended, God’s compelling love is expressed through the birth of Christ Jesus our LORD. God reached out – far out – to express His compelling love. Our deepest evidence of God’s love for us is found within Christ’s birth, Emmanuel – God is with us!!

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:38-39, NIV.


“All this is from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to Him in Christ, not counting men’s sins against them. And He has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: be reconciled to God. God made Christ who had no sin to take on sin for us, so that in Christ we might become the righteousness of God.” 2 Corinthians 5:18-21

One Cup at a Time

Merry Christmas

I am humbled and inspired by God's activity within our appointment. His touch of restoration and transition have been slow but specific. There were 39 people in church on Sunday - quite a few who have returned after their first visit with someone else with them. What a difference from 5, what a huge difference. A niece, a fiance, a brother, an aunt. We even need to have a regular plan for Junior church for the little babies and toddlers. These past 6 months have included a varied layer of communication with so many community people, especially with those who have intentionally separated themselves from the corps in the past recent years.

One letter after another were delivered from our office, and in God's amazing way, many people have responded to "share a cup of coffee." Not as a group or as an execution line-up, but one at a time. Whew, because the strong things they needed to share wouldn't have worked in a group dialog very well. A cup of coffee is not a threat or a danger, yet it has opened up so many conversations, hard as they may be, and encouraged the beginning phases of dialog.

I'm glad I'm a decaf drinker, or I'd be a nerve jangling mess from the amount of coffee I have consumed over these talks. I don't need the caffeine, but I sure do love that aroma, that exquisite taste - the whole experience.

Being within the realm of transition (which is distinctly different from change) has not been easy or encouraging. This community doesn't trust the Army officer, and have held onto all the reasons in detail as to why, and show you by the fistful all of those reasons. They have names, dates, events, circumstances, wrong deeds - and they are legitimate and authentic I can't say they didn't happen or that the perspective was skewed.

Their rough and rude, cold and distant treatment of me and my husband have nothing to do with what we have done, and we have been instructed by too many to count, "Its not you, it's not personal..." as they continue with their words.

I have to disagree. If transition starts anywhere, it has to be personal.

It doesn't have to be slow, but frequently it is. Yet on Monday, I am heading out to deliver League of Mercy Christmas gifts to our community nursing homes, and there are signs that restoration is moving to a deeper level. Three people who are going with me are new to the corps and three are because of God's work through patient restoration. I don't need a present under my tree from my congregation to feel appreciated or loved - my heart is humbled and moved by God's activity through transformation and encouragement.

And it has happened, very personally, one cup at a time.

No Doubt About It

:Tea with honey and lemon - early grey, english breakfast, peppermint and ginger - 8 pots

:Sicilian lemonade - 48 ounces

:Chicken noodle soup- 96 ounce

:Tomato soup with goldfish crackers - (they really make all the difference) 36 ounces

:Sugarfree Jello water (lemon, orange, cherry, raspberry) Didn't keep track of those ounces

:Halls Honey and lemon menthol- 100 lozenges

:Advil Dose after dose, waiting for the next one

The dreaded three word sentence, more a resignation than a pronouncement, as I turned the corner as I sneezed and then had to say "God bless me" because no one really knew how I felt:

"Mom is sick."

There is no down time, and it is simply a cold, but it brought the achy feeling and slight fever that is enough to sap your strength. I am the speaker in the pulpit tomorrow morning and my head is resonating with congestion and my throat is husky and provocative sounding. So the best I can gather is I will sound like a cross between Elmer Fudd and Lauren Bacall. Pass the tissues, if you don't mind.

Thank you so much, you are very kind. God bless you!

Anyway

The words of the blessed Mother Teresa reach through the pages and bring me inspiration, motivation and fresh strength today. Her words are printed onto my "Wall of Calm" in my office, right next to my computer.

"People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.
If you do good, people may accuse you of selfish motives.
Do good anyway.
If you are successful, you may win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.
Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable.
Be honest and transparent anyway.
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.
People who really want help may attack you if you help them.
Help them anyway.
Give the world the best you have and you may get hurt.
Give the world your best anyway."
~Mother Theresa

"So let us not let ourselves get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don't give up, or quit. Right now therefore, everytime we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith.

Galatians 6:9-10, The Message

Dearest Lord, encompass me in Your love and plant within me the divine stamina to see others with the eyes of Christ. Your Kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

In the Penalty Box

Mist slowly rising off the frozen rink -
Charged, chosen warriors meet at center ice.
Eagerly waiting, poised on the brink:
Their race to the puck, their moves are precise.

Slamming! Jamming! Shooshing! Whooshing!
Barreling! Speeding! Whew - a narrow escape.
Zipping! Whipping! Whirling! Blurring!
Thrashing! Crashing! How much more can he take?!.

The whistle’s shrill blast, the official stops play.
For a revenge-full, avenge-full intentional aggression.
10 minutes is determined what the player will pay
For the bone-crushing penalty – a major transgression.

The penalty tender slides open the locks
And swings open the door to the penalty box.
You must wait. You must stay.
For your transgression you will pay.

A heart in deep freeze, chained up link by link
Charged, chosen anger takes center court.
Eagerly waiting , poised on the brink
Each side is defended like a combat fort.

Lying! Defying! Stealing! Concealing!
Breaking! Forsaking! No love to be found.
Self-protecting! Self-reflecting! Ripping! Whipping!
Never forgiving – frozen, empty and bound.

The spiritual conviction – sin filled heart, sin filled life.
This revenge-full, avenge-full intentional aggression.
Eternity is weighed on the edge of a knife:
There is nothing enough to pay for this compelling transgression.

The penalty tender has the nameplate engraved
For the heart lost in sin, with no hope to be saved.
But Jesus has frozen the punishment clock
Jesus takes our place in the penalty box!

Not for sin He committed
But through grace He is permitted
To pay the price for the debt.
Before we knew Him, He took our place -
Jesus’ love for the human race
Is a gift that is complete and set.

Faith in Christ Jesus brings an assurance we can know:
Faith in Christ Jesus takes the sin-debt away.
Christ Jesus paid the debt He did no owe
To pay for the debt we could not pay.

He took our place
Because of divine love and grace,
In the Penalty Box.

jsi

“No member of the human race except Christ ever gave to God, by dying, anything which that person was not at some time going to lose as a matter of necessity. Nor did anyone ever pay a debt to God which he did not owe. But Christ of his own accord gave to his Father what he was never going to lose as a matter of necessity, and he paid, on behalf of sinners, a debt which he did not owe.

It is in dying Christ gives something that he does not owe. The death of Christ offers something of infinite value and something that is not owed. In so doing, Christ gives God what is necessary to pay for all human sin past and future. Christ, the God-Man, made an infinite payment, that He did not owe, to God for the sins of humankind.”
Anselm, Cur Deus Homo?

But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 8:5

As I unpacked my bag yesterday, I had to be near an electrical outlet, and not just the one which has two outlets open. Good grief, I needed the outlet that had the power cord multi-charger available. I'm going to take up most of the strip. Three years ago, I didn't even use a cell phone let alone own one, but those days seem a distant memory now. My cell phone needed charged desperately, its down to 1/2 bar; my palm pilot needed charged, as it was listed at 13% power. My laptop computer had just signaled me to immediately plug into an outlet as it had reached 8%...good grief I thought I turned it off before I zipped up that bag. I grab Dave's phone to make sure he gets charged up and plug in my camera so its internal battery will be full capacity tomorrow. Added to that is the rechargeable battery charger which prepares 6 AA for use and this power strip is maxxed out.

If I had an ipod, I think I could cause an electrical short in the house! Dave needed to find a different place to charge his laptop but that was primarily that he had some things to type and email...not the fault of the outlet or "charging station" as I have affectionately named it. He wants to videotape something tomorrow so the video camera is getting its battery juice capacity. Its rather embarrassing how many technological elements I am now carrying, working with and depending upon. Forget one power chord and I'm up a creek without a paddle. (And I wish that could only be a hypothetical description - missing one little piece of connection has wreaked havoc. Augh!)

My personal batteries have needed recharged and these past few days really brought the extra energy I have needed.

:accomplished tasks. Our Christmas sign-up week was met with advance thought, preparation, extra staples, extra helping hands and more chairs for an extended waiting room in the hallway. I had to miss three days of this years sign-ups (out of town, mandatory Annual Divisional Leadership Conference a.k.a. Officer Retreat), for the agency negotiations in our community who were doing their Christmas sign-ups were already selected for us, before we got here. Not everything went completely smooth or without glitches, but it was a good beginning to an involved and engaged season of generosity and need, ministry and joy. We will continue to take applications up through 12/12...(shhhhhh, be verwy, vewry quiet, lest those calendar avoiders overhear. When they try to lie and say they didn't know when Christmas was, I almost want to leave the room. Instead I pour a cup of coffee and let them know I know their lie is just a poor sounding explanation that bad things happen outside of their own control. Didn't know when Christmas was...hmmmm) And after 12/12 will be a waiting list, I actually take applications up until the day before distribution; it dawns on me know that my staff doesn't exactly know that yet. Monday will be a new day!

:sitting next to my sweetheart. So many times by the end of my week, I feel like Dave and I see each other coming and going more than right next to each other. Sometimes its the kid's schedule, sometimes its mine or his or the community, sometimes its the excessive flexibility ministry requires. But...some days it feels like Dave and I are like Clark Kent/Superman - never really in the same place, but everyone understands the other is somewhere nearby or will return soon. Our Officer Councils/Leadership Retreat gave us a chance to sit together, eat together, talk with friends, pray and worship together, ride in the truck next to each other, see a movie (oh, my ears are still blistered...why did I let them pressure me into Gone Baby Gone...never again) go to a restaurant. We shared more time together in those 2 1/2 days than we have in a month. There is a definite smile in my heart and on my face.

:Teaching from Esther. Bob Hostetler spoke and taught throughout the planned sessions primarily through Esther and his emphasis upon leading in the face of crisis, decisions within the face of fear, stability within the sea of uncertainty - he brought a good word from the Good Word. And he finalized his points with the illumination - we have been given the authority to do something about the wrongness/poverty/sin/brokenness we encounter. Bob is an inspiration and a motivation within the realm of God's ministry.

:watching an infant mold to mom's embrace. It is so inspiring to watch a young hearts simply shine with the inescapable wave of falling in love with the new baby in their life. What a privilege you shared with us all, to simply be able to watch this little life wrap himself through your hearts.

:throwing the letter away. I hate being away from my kids, even though I know a break is beneficial for all of us. With an aunt who was able to give her time for the evenings and mornings, dinner and bedtime, breakfast and bus times, everything had the possibility of running smoothly. But I still had to write the letter, the dreaded letter. I hate it when I have to write it, and I'm never in a good mood after I've done it. You know the letter...the one with each child's birthdate and social security number, accompanied by the insurance card. A list of your cell phone numbers, and the mileage from where we will be traveling. And the birthdate and full name and social security number of the person in whom the insurance is under. With directions how to get to the hospital. And legal guardianship authority to begin filling out any paperwork so that there would not need to be a delay in medical treatment. Once again, the preparation and writing of this letter was not needed and I could just sweep it into the trashcan, unapologetically, unsentimental. Good riddance.

:a book finished. Not for study or for assignment, but just for the sheer pleasure of reading. I have been reading about 300 pages a week, mostly for Master's classes. But yesterday I finished Jane Eyre (3rd time with the gem, and still things to learn and gain) and felt like I completed something very stabilizing.

:a trip to the library. Every one got three books and this afternoon was rainy outside so we sat and lounged and read.

:affirmation. It is so amazingly empowering to hear a trusted confidante say the words, "You are right, this is not your imagination, you are not wrong..."

:gingerbread house competition. A. and I will put in our application for the community Gingerbread house competition, and we searched this afternoon for the perfect recipe.

:hearing the piano from around the corner. I am happy to do the dishes as my daughter is playing her recital piece. It keeps a song in my heart, and I don't care if I have dish-panned hands to show for it.

My batteries, my private inner batteries are recharged and replenished tonight. God's blessing is deep and wide.

The temperatures are colder and the foliage in our yard begins to glimmer through its new wardrobe in jewel tones of crimson, gold, amber and flaming orange. They have caught my attention throughout the day: in the early morning as we left the house and again late during sunset as we returned at the end of a full day. There are different trees in our yard, each turning according to their seasonal pattern, some holding tightly to their still-green leaves as others have already released their temporary treasures. Strangely, there are two trees, both trunks shooting out from the same place in the ground and they have the exact same conditions to grow from. They are exactly the same type of tree. They were planted in the same year, so they are exactly the same age. They get exactly the same amount of sun, rain and soil nutrients. And yet, even with their identical conditions, one has remained green with leaves and the other has turned golden and dropped every leaf.

October's poplars are flaming torches
lighting the way to winter.
- Nova Bair
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This October night has a sky that is spotless clear and the autumn air has a chill in the evening, persuading the bare shoulder to reach for the nearest sweater or jacket. The movement of the seasons steps gingerly through these harvest weeks, ensuring the calendar journey is one step farther from summer and one step closer to winter. I stand in my backyard, entranced by the size of the moon – it is enormous! It seems as if it fills the entire sky, spilling out its moonglow brightly. It is not quite a full moon, that won’t happen until October 26.

The oceans on the moon are so visible tonight, these mares so romantically and beautifully named by Galileo: the Sea of Serenity, the Sea of Clouds, the Sea of Rains, the Sea of Ingenuity, the Sea of Fertility, the Sea of Cold. Directly across from each other one can observe the Sea of Tranquility directly across from the Sea of Crises. These lunar regions have encountered nearly identical exposure to the meteors which have pummeled the moon’s surface. Because of the orbit and axis the moon travels upon and within, these regions are exposed to the sun in the identical time period. Galileo links these two moon oceans together, Tranquility and Crises.

Tranquility and Crises.

I cannot overlook the poignancy of the elements I see before me. God weaves tranquility into our lives, tranquility in the face of crises. Some circumstances can bring out strength from us (green leaves on the branches) and others can make us almost unwind (golden leaves in a pile at the foot of a tree), even though we haven’t left our faith. When we turn to God and rely upon Him as our Rock, our Guide, our Shield, our Strength, He brings a calmness of heart and mind in the throes of a violent storm.

We can see within the heart of the crises that there is a divine heart of Tranquility which is unmoved, unscathed, undisturbed, unintimidated. God is faithful, endlessly faithful to us, providing serenity in the midst of crises. These two experiences are linked together, peace and panic, and are held within the hand of the Master Creator of our lives.

One thing I ask of the LORD, that I will seek after; to live in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in His temple. For He will hide me in His shelter in the day of trouble; He will conceal me under the cover of His tent. He will set me high on a rock. Psalm 27:4-5

Bidden or Unbidden

Looking within the pages of notes, study material and unpublished lectures of the medieval scholar Erasmus, a phrase rings out plainly into the cacophony of today’s pounding life with its unrelenting pace and unyielding schedule of obligations:

“Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus ad erit.” Latin
“Bidden or unbidden, God is present.” English

Psychologist and theologian Carl Jung was captured by this phrase and the depth of its meaning for the world. God is always there, whether we asked for Him or not. Jung had this Latin phrase carved and bronzed and hung it over his home entrance, a physical reminder of God’s tangible availability. This plaque served as a lifetime memorial about his conviction, his heartfelt passion that there is nowhere a person can run that is away from God. It is also present on his tombstone as an epitaph.

“Invitado o no invitado, Dios está presénté.” Spanish
"Chiamati o inopportune, Dio e presente." Italian

We may sometimes forget that we don’t have to invite God into our lives…He is already present, in the midst of happiness and joy, trouble and strife, grief or blessing, life or death. There is no obstacle to high or deep that keeps God away from the problems we encounter.

“Appelés ou injustifiées, Dieu est present French
"Genannt oder unangebracht, Gott ist." German

Whether we call upon God, cry out to Him in help or in praise, God is working in us and through us an all around us. God’s divine activity is traceable, His hand within our lives, plans, footsteps.

When welcoming a brand new child, God is there.
When facing the grief of losing a child, God is there.
When experiencing personal fulfillment, God is there.
When experiencing the blackness of depression, God is there.

The question has never been “Where is God in all of this?” But instead the question remains, “Are we paying attention to what God is doing?”

Bidden or unbidden - God is present. Vocatus atque non vocatus, Dues ad erit.

When a hungry stranger receives food, God is there.
When a lonely widow is welcomed into the city, God is there.
When people work for peace and struggle for justice, God is there.
When we witness courage and bravery, God is there.

When someone is rescued from a flooded street, or when a bomb in the heart of the city is defused and made safe, God is there.

When a child is carefully instructed and taught, God is there. When anger is irrational and bullets are flying and strength and bravery offer protection, God is there. And though it may be hard for us to accept, even when people are trapped and terrified in an airport, God is there too.

Reach up and reach out and claim the presence of God, who is right there with you, every step of what you are doing. Extending our hands out to man require that we must, absolutely must keep our hearts extended to God.

Bidden or unbidden – God is present.

“Great are the works of the LORD, they are pondered by all who delight in them. Glorious and majestic are His deeds, and His righteousness endures forever. He has caused His wonders to be remembered; the LORD is gracious and compassionate.” Psalm 111:2-4

Laugh 'Till I'd Cry

http://www.kingsfeatures.com/features/comics/fwinker

http://www.fbofw.com/timetravel

"A good cartoonist is one who can make people laugh. A great cartoonist is one who can make people laugh in the midst of fear, sadness, and uncertainty."

— Regina Brett, breast cancer survivor
and president of the National Society of Newspaper Columnists

Without apologies, I will confess my daily scan of the paper always includes a quick skim of the front page for headlines, a little check to the obits, a look inside the sports section for box scores of my favorite teams (Go Red Sox – great game! Go Indians-annihilate the Yankees!) It takes all of 4 minutes, to see what is there, what will require my attention later, and then what I love – the comics. I love reading the comics, and like anyone have my favs. I usually use the Sunday funnies, since they are in color, as birthday giftwrap. So many different ones have come and gone, yet I am still a devoted Prince Valient reader every Sunday. I miss my Far Side fix - it isn’t printed anymore. I used to decorate my covered textbooks in high school with different Far Side scenes – there was always so much in them. And Calvin and Hobbes, they could make me bah-hah outloud, hilarious in the investigation of a sarcastic little boy handling subjetcs like atheism, creation, life as we know it and the depth of friendship as life's deepest treasure. The Wizard of Id and Family Circus, Blondie’s curvy girl figures and Beetle Bailey’s antagonistic Sarge, Cathy’s power struggles with her mother, Ziggy and Charlie Brown – they are all small windows of wisdom, silliness, poignant frames of philosophy and thought-filled introspection.

Some have had a different importance at different times in my life than others, like identifying with a sleep-deprived again-pregnant mother in Baby Blues who is desparately seeking a bathroom with her baby and toddler in tow, and a sales clerk generously offers the staff bathroom “because its important to help a little one get to a potty”…but it the Mommy who’s bladder was ready to explode! How true, how true – I knew every bathroom in town when pregnant with K, and the other three helped me get extra understanding for the “little ones” as trying so hard to change that diaper as fast as I could so I could use the potty myself. Crankshaft shows a cantankerous side of aging, with humor, understanding and defense for some of the details that younger people often don’t see. Garfield and Jon never seem to ever get past the same power struggles, but they are always cute.

Do you have any favorite comics, the ones you are always looking for first?

In the 1970s there were two strips that started out new, and as a very young reader they caught me in their stories right away with the fact that they passed in what you were able to gauge as “real time”. Unlike the perpetually young Charles Schultz characters or Family Circle toddler family, Funky Winkerbean (1972) and For Better or For Worse (1978), these characters went to the next grade in school, celebrated a next birthday. The kids grew up, got jobs, got married; people took promotions, moved away, came back. I really liked how life marched on in the comic strips, young girls became young women, boys developed into men, moms and dads struggled with holding on and letting go. They became a set of 2 dimensional friends who sometimes expressed exactly how I felt about war or children or balancing justice with mercy, the impact of forgiveness and the complete need for love. For Better or For Worse has addressed within the multi-generational Patterson family the necessity for courage – for the things you want (a true love) and for the things you fear (retirement) all the while mixing in the beauty of watching mom brush her hair in the wind or the perils of living with a large dog. But those subjects were not the only ones – Funky Winderbean may have brought us all Harry L. Dinkle, The World’s Greatest Band Leader of Westview High, but he also brought out the subjects of teen pregnancy, gang peer pressure, dyslexia, teen dating abuse, and breast cancer.

This morning, both strips are facing new ground. For Better or For Worse has included the additional stroke of Elly’s elderly father. Simultaneously the characters find themselves hoping for returned health and facing the reality of impending death. Lisa Moore, in Funky Winkerbean, died within her many-years struggle with cancer. Lisa as a cartoon character was diagnosed with cancer the first time at the same time my best friend was diagnosed with lung cancer – and Tom Batiuk’s insight was profound during that very angst-filled time. His poignancy brought profound understanding within a subject that frequently wasn’t discussed. I miss my friend who lost her battle with cancer in mid 2005. My tears have been present every morning for months as Tom Batiuk, cartoonist and cancer survivor, has shown within the framework of "Lisa's story".

The return of Lisa's aggressive breast cancer after a long remission. Chemotherapy. Surgery. The dark thoughts a person has when facing the death of someone they love. Not a depressing story, but one which includes depression of the caregiver. The cartoonist does not abrasively gloss over important issues, but carefully shines a light on important concepts: although Lisa was the one who was dying, it was her husband who was sick. He was in need of help, attention, someone to remove the alcohol from his hands, to talk straight to his heart in his hurt.

Though painful in their subject content, their stories are hopeful, showing how loving couples treat each other under all circumstances. So this morning with my coffee, my tears are there, recognizing the hurt that envelopes a family in the face of cancer, and knowing the future posssibilities these hand drawn friends may face within their next storyboards in the future.

Goodbye Lisa and thank you. You've made me laugh until I'd cry.

Small Surprises, Giant Blessings

These past three weeks have included so much, packed in tight and full, like fragrant sausages ready to burst out of their skin. It hasn't been a schedule that is out of hand or excessive mileage or meetings. Time management, communication, understanding and flexibility have attended to everything that has come along. Some days got a little hairy, and I love being able to rely upon my terrific husband when it all needed tamed. Whether it was a doctor's visit 4 counties away or a forgotten library book, a missing trumpet mouthpiece or "the exactly right sweater I wanted to wear with this outfit", an important Advisory Board meeting or community event, there was place and time for everything and things are running smoothly.

In reflection, this fullness comes from the small surprises, giant blessings and the gentle communion with the Spirit that has been present:

: a birthday party for my youngest son, N. - he's 9, my little man, and this was the year for his friend party. We alternate years - family party, friend party, sleep over, movie party - to rotate celebration styles and enjoy each other as best we can. (And face it, to equalize and regulate the amount of money that goes into it! Birthdays can get so expensive so quick! And in our household we have 2 birthdays in 8 days time. That is usually only one pay check, so there are no gala blow-outs, skating rink renting, catering-out-the-wazoo celebrations. Hey, time stands still for your birthday, you get to eat breakfast from the birthday bowl, have your favorite dinner with soda to drink, your choice of cake and fun and games at home - where birthdays are the most creative and involved, and affordable.) I do love celebrating birthdays, and enjoy making a cake (N. wanted racecars, and if I have to say so, mine turned out tasty, delicious and looked lightning fast!) Last September, when we lived in a different appointment (which we had been in for 2 years - plenty of friend making possibilities) N.'s party was family - and we didn't dream there would be any moving on the horizon. Yet as the horizon got closer, the moving reality was present and affected many things. N.s friend party now brought a level of mommy horror - do I warp our family celebration expectations and traditions and underline and accentuate a feeling that has been floating under the surface for all of my children? Do we not have a friend party because we just don't have many friends in this area? Do we travel 2 1/2 hours north to a city we don't live in anymore to host a party with his old friends, his best lifetime friends? So...the answer is...no...we invite the entire class at school! (Let me say, the feeling of "What have I done" was coming in waves after he left on the bus for school...what have I done?!. Is there a way I can take it back - univite 28 kids...oh good grief.) Neighborhood, corps and classroom added up to over 40 invitations...what if they all came? I wasn't breaking a sweat, I won't brag or gloat : I feel confident about engaging with and entertaining large groups of kids, so we were set for every single one to come. Birthday arrives with balloons and preparations, and there were 18 kids who came. I admit it willingly...it was on my prayer list for more than 10 days...and I don't feel shallow or trivial..."Lord, please let there be more that 10 kids who can come to N. party. PPLLEEAASSEE!" After the whole day was over and we were cleaning up from limbo, musical chairs, pinata, etc. the tears of relief were so close to the surface, I couldn't ignore the feeling of the heartfelt burden lifted, "Thank you Lord, for new friends for N....thank you...thank you...thank you!"

: I play orchestral french horn and try to play in as many orchestras as I can. I do not have the availability or opportunity to keep a full time gig and play the 75 concerts and rehearsals which an orchestra can prepare, I cannot be a fulltime musician. But I have found a very fulfilling playing opportunity subbing for different orchestras. You know, filling in for someone who is unable to be at that rehearsal or performance. Yet to do that, to get on that list of callers, you must audition, give a hearing, and have the appointed orchestral excerpts prepared and ready to display to perfection. September brought one of these auditions and I practiced for it for 6 weeks. So in the midst of different meetings, responsibilities, dinner and programs, a prevalent ribbon of horn 2 and horn 3 parts of Mozart, Mahler, Dvorak and Shoshtakovich was winding through my days. My office manager learned many of the excerpts and could tell the difference between Beethoven and Strauss...so I consider a huge accomplishment has happened - the music teacher in me is satisfied!. So audition day comes, and I play with about 40 other horns for horn 2 and horn 3, and I played well. I was stinking nervous!!!! I didn't get horn 2 or horn 3 - and I didn't want them. The rigorous preparation process helped underscore for me that I am not made of the cut-throat essence that an orchestral musician requires. I am so opposite on the spectrum - I want everyone to feel as encouraged and confident as possible. Some of that is the mommy in me, but most of it is just the rose-colored glasses wearing, spunky, cheerleader that sees the best in everything and everyone. I invited three other horn players to the audition, for their chance to win the position. I spent the afternoon talking with other horn players, not avoiding all contact with whoever might be positioned as "my competition". I played well, they listened to all my excerpts without calling out for the next horn player to come in (truly my deepest fear). Yet in the middle of the morning - horn 2 auditions- my oldest son T. had an insulin emergency at grandma's. Needing to slip out and rush back, I know that God is using me, exactly where I am with every talent and capability He has entrusted me.

: every single book for each of my M.Div classes this semester were available from the library and I can check them out for 25 weeks. I don't have to buy a single text! I am over 1/2 done with this degree, and having a textbook free September really made back to school, outgrowing hockey skates, 2 birthdays not such a dramatic hit to the wallet.

: Since I work with my husband, I can shut the door and get a kiss anytime I want.

: being a witness to a transformation of heart, body, soul and mind. Few things are as inspiring to me as the transformational process in a person.

:reaching a real person on the other end of the phone, not needing to leave a message.

: my mother's surgery has relieved the pain she has had for months, and her recuperation time is showing healing and strength. What did I make for her - soup and tea. Doctor's should prescribe it!

: sharing coffee with another officer, in the middle of a challenging day for the both of you. (Thanks for lunch Sue, I'll bring you coffee - cream and sugar- anytime!

: there were 25 people in church for worship in Holiness meeting, and 17 in Sunday School. Please don't read those numbers as being tiny, there were 3 people in church in July. Having 25 in church for you may seem like everyone is on vacation, sick or causing a riot, but 25 for us brings an extra wind of spiritual encouragement and validity within God's work. God's touch has brought out a caring spirit to this congregation, responding positively to encouragement and fellowship. I don't typically talk about corps details, the rebuilding process of a congregation following scandal can be painful, lonely and not terribly encouraging for the pastor and leadership involved. Two appointments in a row facing the repercussions of scandal is enough to drain the spirit. As I stepped into the pulpit this morning, there was someone sitting in every pew, children through seniors through elders, spread out but 25 hearts joining us in worshipping the amazing God who created us and keeps us.

"Little is much when God is in it,

labor not for wealth or fame,

there's a crown and you shall win it

when you go in Jesus's name."

My heart is full from little surprises and giant blessings. God is tremendously good.

Impossible to forget

Our brains are designed in such an incredible way, the deep grooves throughout our grey matter are filled with memory receptors infiltrated within each crevice. Capturing memories and holding them – making it physically impossible to forget some things. Some brain experts consider that it is possible for a healthy brain to hold onto the earliest memories, from toddler hood, and retain them for a lifetime.

Impossible to forget.

Sometimes I feel like a few of my memory crevices are having a construction traffic jam, selectively remembering important things while not even trying to retain others. Numbers are losing out right now. I find that the busier I am, the more I rely upon the written reminders – the written memory- to stay on top of things, because frequently they are tied to numbers. My mind feels crammed with numbers, and keeping them straight is an organizational task which can be daunting if not attended to daily. This is why my Palm Pilot has been indispensable to me – my external brain!

Impossible to forget.

Everyone forgets things – the music stand that wasn’t easily seen so it was left behind, the meeting that was scheduled via cell phone while driving in congested traffic, the library book that fell behind a table and remained for three months collecting fines daily but “outta sight, outta mind”. A prescription pick up, a doctor’s appointment, a colleague’s name – forgetting has happened to us all. And for most things, it’s been easily attended with apology or compensation or accepting the consequences and provide the assurance that it won’t happen again.

Impossible to forget.

And yet, some circumstances are so charged with emotion and importance that they will never leave our minds, never be forgotten or eliminated in the daily routine of grocery lists and informal meetings and birthday parties and phone numbers. Branded upon our minds, with its grey matter memory receptors, they are always there. It’s a blessing (a special friendship and shared interest, a covenant relationship, a first kiss, an inspiration, a fantastic poem, a special lesson of life, the birth of a child) and it can be a curse (words that can never be taken back, the loss of a child, mistakes that are unalterable, the suicide of a loved one, a raised hand in anger, a traffic accident with a tragic ending, gunfire).

The life of Joseph recorded in Genesis exposes a man who encountered love and jealousy, success and tragedy, acceptance and rejection, integrity and deception throughout his lifetime. Abandoned by his brothers. Thought to be dead by his parents. Abused as a slave. Imprisoned unjustly. Forgotten within the halls of justice. Threatened with death threats. As a man of faith he found himself alone, relying upon himself and God to make it through one demanding obstacle after another.

It could seem understandable to get embittered with life, to learn the lessons that were thrown at him and decide to never trust again, never love again, to never forget, never reach out again – a natural reaction of protection, self-preservation. But within the Scriptures we see this incredible window exposing Joseph’s relationship with God and how he recognized God’s activity and presence.

Genesis 41:50-52, “Before the years of famine came, two sons were born to Joseph by Asenath daughter of Potiphera, priest of On. Joseph named his first born Manasseh (forget) and said, ‘It is because God has made me forget all my trouble and my father’s household.’ The second son was name Ephraim (double prosperity) and said, ‘It is because God has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering.”

The root of the verb translated here, to forget, is not based on elimination as wiping the memory from the mind as a teacher wipes the chalk from a chalkboard. This verb is not about removing the memory. It is not like brain washing or hypnotism. No, it is more aligned with a different aspect of memory. “To remove the pain, the sting, the injury, the hurt” – this is more in line with the verb, this Manasseh. Joseph uses this verb in naming his child…”God has removed the pain of my memory, God has removed the sting from my memories. I still remember but the pain is not oppressive.”

When reflecting on his life, Joseph praises God for removing the injury, pain and sting from the memories he may never be able to forget. Joseph transmits his pain and injury and gives them to God to handle and manage. He recognizes that he would be bitter and unable to forgive without the anointed embalming of God’s touch upon those memories.

Its an important lesson, a crucial lesson for me, that God promises to walk down the corridors of my mind and examine the still life portraits hanging on the wall, examine the details with me and help me give birth to a Manasseh, a living example of His divine ability to remove the injury and sting of the memories which can never be forgotten. We are built to remember, but God remains with us with the deep promise that His divine love can help remove the oppressive impact these memories can carry, these memories that we cannot seem to erase.

You do not need to be imprisoned by your tragic memories, unable to move ahead or reach out because of what you cannot remove from your mind. God is right there with you, holding you close, taking every breath with you. He is there providing you with the strength of heart to know He can help you give birth to a Manasseh, a chance to let His divine love remove the sting of the memories which seem like a prison. Reach out to Him, He’s reaching out to you full of understanding, compassion and strength.

Stepping Into Traffic

When I was in 6th grade we were given the opportunity to have "real jobs" because of our age and maturity. We were given the chance to be crossing guards at the 8 intersections around the school! Coolness! Arriving at school 30 minutes early, out of class 15 minutes early, we felt like big stuff with our orange belts slashed across the left shoulder and a proud long broomstick handle flag to stop all threatening traffic. We will make sure all traffic stops for us!

So we would all walk to our assigned corner and stand there, waiting for walkers to come and "need our help" to get across the street. We weren't allowed to leave the corner, just wave our long-handled flag out to catch drivers attention so they would stop appropriately. It didn't take long for the coolness factor to wear off - we really weren't doing anything in the matter of safety - we weren't the reason why people would stop. No one would stop for our tiny flag fluttering from the distance of the corner.

No the real power was held by the crossing guards who were adults, at the extra busy corners, who would with all the boldness and strength and confidence in the world would step out into traffic, bringing all moving vehicles to a halt until all the lengthy parade of skipping, bookbag wearing learners would march past them.

Stepping into traffic.

With my morning commute being so brief, a slight 1.5 miles from home to corps, the drive is rarely eventful. I never hear a song all the way through so I don't listen to the radio - I simply observe as much as I can. I rarely even need the gas pedal, letting the engine idle coast me to work. Swerve left, then quickly right, successfully accomplishing the pot-hole slalom which is directly before the only light on the trip. Things are going well - it's going to be a pretty day, a busy day, a blessed day..

But I am abruptly startled into action, needing the brakes when directly before the corps, there is a 14 month old baby in the devil strip, dangling his toes over the curb, sucking his thumb in a "boy am I sleepy" position. He's only wearing a diaper, no socks or shoes and it is only 57 degrees - he's got to be freezing! I am not the only vehicle on the road - this is going to be dangerous in a heartbeat. I coast into my driveway and jump out as smoothly as I can. As I am walking near him, I am searching for his mother - in my lobby (no), in my parking lot (no) in the Rite Aid parking lot (no) in the front, side or back yard (no) on the porch (no). As I step slowly closer, he begins to move sideways and closer to traffic. This is getting bad fast, as drivers are simply shaking their heads as they speed past and neighbors are observing the "a.m. entertainment" not wanting to get involved. There is only one thing to do.

Step into traffic.

Cars stop and wait, as I am able to step close enough to reach him, pick him up and step to the pedestrian safety of the sidewalk. Inside I am furiously seething, "I could be a stranger with the worst of intentions and NO ONE is here to stop me from leaving, never seeing this little one ever again." But I am not a stranger to him, and I know which apartment he lives in. As I walk up to his home, his large espresso colored eyes let me know he's barely awake. I don't know how long he's been outside, but he is so cold it takes my breath away.

Stepping into traffic.

This is not a "dump and dash" excursion to this house, I have to be very serious about everything that has happened. And under control. I have to communicate and listen. I may have a professional obligation, I also must have a courageous obligation. I need to be willing to step into the traffic of this situation with boldness and confidence, willing to take the risk.

Risking her fury or criticism, I must wake his mother up. Risking her startled list of excuses, I have to recap the Jim Beam and put it above the refrigerator, box up the cigarettes and put them in the cleaning closet "These are deadly to your 3 babies. Careless sips because they are thirsty or eating just one cigarette - it can kill them!" Risking her anger bounced to her other children, I have to explain where her son was instead of being "watched" by his 3yr old brother. Risking her never accepting our corps invitation to join us for worship or children's programs, I need to express to her that two other agency directors in our town who drove by this circumstance, one of them being connected to Children's Services.

Step into the dangerous traffic that surrounds you, willing to risk your time, your schedule, your plans, your leisure activity. Don't sweep someone's careless threat of suicide away - step into the traffic and invest yourself in the name of Christ Jesus to express hope, and action and concern. Step into the traffic of grief and offer more than a dry handkerchief - embrace and share compassion. Invest yourself with your teenagers, with the message of purity, modesty and language. With the stop sign in your hand and the confidence of God's righteousness, address the gossip and lies that are attempted to be spread in your presence.

In the name of God, make your presence known.

Step into the traffic with a prayer and boldness. God is right there with you.

Isaiah 41:10 "So do not fear, for I AM with you, says the LORD; do not be dismayed, for I AM your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with My righteous right hand." NIV

A Watchful Watchtower

With my devotions this morning, I find myself with my Bible in the Old Testament laughing out loud at the images in my mind t he Scripture are bringing, as if the Bible is mocking me and who I need to be right now.

Ezekiel and the watchman. A spiritual dedication to sharing and caring the news of God’s love and expectations. As the watchman, I always saw Ezekiel sequestered in a high place, uninterrupted, hearing from God and reading God’s word with relish and time. He had serious alone time with God.

I seriously do not.

I feel as if all parts of life crowd in on my day to take more chunks of my time, my devotional time. I do not have a high and silent place to languish for hours wrapped in the truths and teachings of God. I’ve got young hands cramming notes under my door with scrawled notes and requests, childhood contracts of expectations or expression. It feels like minutes sometimes with God, brief, fleeting. In the same reality, I cannot have a God-honoring day without spending time with Him. Some people you don’t want to meet until they’ve had their coffee…you really don’t want to see me unless I’ve been with Jesus. I am not as loving or understanding of a wife, as flexible and forgiving as a mother, as creative or vision-filled leader without my quiet time. Days that do not start with the careful hemming attention from Jesus always come unraveled in a tirade of frustration, loss of patience or quick discouragement. Sure I can get to end of 24 hours without losing it, but usually it could be a cynical, mouthy, careless conversation girl you meet. Frequently, my time with God has to come in the pre-dawn hours, and even then, it is filled with prayers for these young and growing hearts.

I am seeing myself perched high in this watchtower Like Elijah, yet I am not alone, observing all these loved ones dangling from the lofty support system. I am not in a place in my life that I can abandon them all to care for themselves while I am behind closed doors for the sake of being close to God. Hockey sticks in hand. First aid kit for the most recent boo-boo. Library books to be found. Teenage moodiness. Needing new shoes. Signed permission slips. “Moooooom, he said this…” Questions about God. Golf team matches. Piano lessons. Scholarship paperwork. Homework.

My devotional time can just as easily evolve into sermon preparation, or for research in an exegetical paper. Neither of these are the deep well of connection with God.

My time with God is frequently devotion in action, praying together as a blessing before catching school bus. Asking forgiveness when I am hurtful or wrong. Stopping and watching a rainbow together. Meeting new friends and teachers.

At the beginning of the day I fill a bowl with water and keep it at the sink counter, reminding me of the fullness God has for my day. I don’t empty it until the end of the day, thanking God for his power and presence in everything I needed to do. My daily tasks, home and office, can easily take over and dictate my time. I cannot allow them to. I have to start my day hand in hand with Jesus, living out the hymn, “He walks with me and He talks with me.”

So with this watchtower in mind, I make a quick trip up with a careful eye given all around these dangling loved ones attached to this watchtower with me.

I pray God blesses you today, quietly yet physically answering your prayers, reaffirming your faith, addressing your need and preparing you for the gift He has for you.

The Sound of Your Voice

The Sound of Your Voice

In the lonely hours of the morning
When each part of this house is asleep,
2 a.m. with lunar light shining –
The man in the moon promises my secret will keep.
I can’t sleep a wink – my thoughts are turning
I can’t read or think – I’m desperately yearning
To know you are here,
Tenderly near…
I long to hear the sound of your voice.

In the busy movements of the afternoon
When each part of this office is busting a move,
2 p.m. with thunderclouds pouring –
The girl in the mirror glances sideways: too true.
She sees right through me – my patience is lacking
She hears and she knows – my cool façade is cracking
I need to see your smile
And just talk with you a while…
I long to hear the sound of your voice.

Where I begin, you complete.
I’ve learned to never compete
With who you are, what you do-
Each day there’s something new
To learn about you
And love about you
But just right now
I long to hear the sound of your voice.

jsi

Let Your Love Show!

My next four sermons include character illustrations from the juvenile literature shelves of the library. Dr. Seuss may have disguised many of his hard hitting morale messages hidden within the seemingly harmless mode of rhymed verse, but many characters and lessons are not intended exclusively for those listeners under the age of 10. Theodor Seuss Geisel considered the state of childhood to be incredible and a learning opportunity which had no boundaries. Adults who were around children (namely parents and teachers)-who he considered to be "obsolete children"- could be just as dramatically led and affected by his vision and ideas. Several of his themes of creativity, the sanctity of life, the importance of human rights, the utter failure of war, the pervasive state of power struggles within the adult world, man's responsibility to care for the earth are all present within his poetic stanzas.

"I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. An elephant's faithful, one hundred percent."

"Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one who is youer than you."

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter won't mind. "

"Don't cry because its over. Smile because it happened."

" Don't give up. I believe in you all. A person's a person no matter how small."

"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

"I know up on top you are seeing great sights, but down on the bottom we, too, should have rights!"

"When you think things are bad, when you feel sour and blue, when you start to get mad... You should do what I do. Think about how lucky, how so lucky you are. "

The Seussical musical has a rather inventive way to connect over 15 Dr. Seuss stories together, many by location references, placing many of the characters in Whoville which is being saved by Horton the elephant. Different stories are threaded together through friendships and the one for today was Gertrude McFuzz.


"There once was a girl-bird named Gertrude McFuzz and she had the smallest plain tail ever was.

One droopy droop feather. That's all that she had. And oh, that one feather made Gertrude so sad."

Within the realm of the musical, Gertrude tried desperately to capture Horton the elephant's attention - trying in subtle, careful, protective ways to impress him, such as growing more feathers in her tail. (Her plan backfires horribly as not only does her object of affection remain oblivious to her and her attempts for attention but her tail is outrageously exaggerated and prevents her from being able to fly.) Gertrude does come to the realization that if she is ever going to get her true love across, she must be plain, direct, convincing, obvious -she has to combine her love with undisputable action! She tells her story,

"I sailed on a junk and was practically sunk...for you. I trampled through the trees full of furious bees...for you.

I slogged through a fog and a choking smog, down a soggy slope through a stinking bog

While my slip was gripped by a vicious dog...for you.



I galloped through the snow in 11 below...for you. Yes, even though I knew I was catching the flu...for you.

And then came the hole where I caught my sole, and I rolled downhill out of all control

‘Till I broke my fall on a jagged sole...for you.



All for you, all for you…There’s nothing that I wouldn't and I couldn't and I haven’t gone through…

Now here I am, the worse for wear and here you are, I’m here! You’re there!

And maybe now you’ll know I care for you. And it took me 7 weeks, but I found your clover, too. "



We have to show the Christian love we feel, with its depth and intensity, not being careful and sophisticated to cooly show our concern from a distance. More often than not, we have to throw caution to the wind, and let God's love be shown in a plain, unashamed, uncontainable waves of careful listening which embraces the potential an interruption carries. Don't hide the love that so many people need...don't be careful, cool, calm and collected; sophisticated, unhurt. Let that love show- shining through the actions we had to make to make it plain and obvious. Listen to those complaints - are they expressing a darkness that was never there before? Have they crossed an emotional line, considering an ending to their pain, their life.



Don't discard the complaints, turn off the whining...be a declarer of God's love and take that love and let it show. Take a lesson from Gertrude McFuzz and understand the impact your actions can make for someone, someone who hears that you did it all for them. Can they easily be convinced that there is nothing that you wouldn't and couldn't and haven't gone through to get this spiritual truth of God's love across to them? Reach out and let that love shine bright!

Certainty and uncertainty

This weekend will have certainty and uncertainty laced together like a well-worn sneaker, tightly drawing all involved into a fit that is snug and just right with a double knot securely made. A. has played softball on the Lady Pirates team since spring and Friday begins the tournament section of their play. She has only needed to miss one practice and one game because of our moving, an amazing set of results in itself. We are certain that Friday night will have a softball, energetic cheering by the team and coaches involved with calming a pitcher and encouraging the batters. We are uncertain as to what kind of game we will face.

I am a baseball girl, through and through, ever since a child. I played with the boys and we played ball in a baseball sort of way – pitching, base running, outfield defense, the whole bag. I didn’t have very many softball friends, and when we did play they would play like baseball. I watch softball on ESPN and been to several games, and it still seems wild to me that two games so closely related to each other can be so amazingly different. Our softball team has won two games in which only four players even hit the ball…all the other scores were made from manufacturing runs from walks to first, and stealing the rest. This is a standard softball occurrence. In the beginning levels of softball, the pitching is erratic, out of control and reliably unreliable. One pitch can be three feet over the batter’s head and the very next pitch (in an over-exaggerated attempt to fix that high target) looks more like a good toss in Bocce than a softball pitch because it’s on the ground. High, low, all over the place, every pitcher nearly gives each batter all 7 pitches allowed before they take a base. My A. has been hit by the pitch more than she has actually hit a pitched ball. Softball is a different game, it can drive you crazy if you’re looking for the same certainty as baseball provides.

With this being double elimination, with certainty our softball tournament could end right after Friday night’s game if our team loses. The uncertainty of the occasion means if we win…oh if we win, we need to stay in a hotel overnight to be ready for the Saturday 8:00 a.m. game.

With certainty, Friday begins the hourly countdown to waiting in line and buying “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows”. But the uncertainty works into the fact we have secured a copy in one city (and we don’t live there anymore), reserved another copy in our new city (but we may not be back home to be in time to be able to retrieve it) and reserved a copy in the city we will be playing this softball game, just in case we have to stay overnight. Where we will buy it, very uncertain, but a copy will be in our hands before the sun rises on Saturday morning.

Our Harry Potter predictions (with certainty and uncertainty):
:Dumbledore is not dead, but instead Professor Slughorn who was using a pollyjuice potion to resemble the headmaster, received the brunt of the attack. Dumbledore is now able to work completely undercover, presumed dead, to be a hidden powerful weapon used when most needed and utterly for surprise.

:Dumbledore is not dead, for even if he was actually himself when under attack, he was protected by the potion Professor Snape uses to keep a stopper on death.

:Professor Snape is loyal to Dumbledore, not to Lord Voldemort. Professor Snape, though a former Death Eater has been unswervingly loyal to the cause of defeating Voldemort; the questionable actions which happened at the end of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince occurred because Lucious Malfoy, using a pollyjuice potion resembled Professor Snape. Professor Snape is able to be found bound in Azkaban, bound and imprisoned, in Lucious Malfoy’s cell.

:The fact that everyone exclaims that Harry has his mother Lily’s eyes is incredibly important to the power of love and friendship and trust he carries. They are not a horcrux, but a sign of the deep power unconditional and sacrificial love carry.

:Mrs. Dursley, Lily’s sister, has secret magic powers which have been intentionally suppressed by those whose mission it has been to keep Harry alive and safe throughout his childhood and adolescence.

:The biggest, most involved character throughout the entire 7 volumes is Neville Longbottom. His magical strength has been magically and powerfully suppressed, even to a point that Neville is completely unaware to the depth of power and strength he has. This suppression was provided by his parents in his infancy, provided before they were tortured into insanity, provided to hide the most serious weapon against Lord Voldemort. We as readers gain small insights every time he is on the page, through interactions with different characters, different circumstances, different challenges, joys, sorrows and insights into the past. I.e. when Neville’s grandmother sends him a Rememberall and it turns red as soon as he handles it, it signifies that he has forgotten something. What he has forgotten is truly how powerful of a force he is. Why does his grandmother cry when he is finally able to perform minor acts of magic? Because the protective power of the suppression spells are diminishing, for they are tied to his chronological age. And etc.

What for Neville…he is the key to the entire story.

:There is a death of a major character in Book #7, and I contend that it is Neville who will die, Neville, who in an act of sacrificial bravery abandons all reserve to self-protection and provides the ultimate level of power and strength to eliminate Lord Voldemeort. Upon the awareness of his power, having been released from the marks of suppression and protection, Neville moves intentionally with courage and bravery, honor and duty to save his friends. Harry will not be able to do it alone…it can only be accomplished with Neville providing this additional sacrifice. Neville and Harry are united in the fact that the prophecy about Lord Voldemeort’s demise has woven the two of them together within the tapestry of fulfillment. Neville is “the power that the Dark Lord knows not” and his provision of unconditional sacrifice to protect everyone else is the key to saving their world.

:Harry and Ginny to be married, Ron and Hermione to be married, Voldemort to be eliminated.

And there is so much more…but I am certain that tonight I am spent, and another day dawns very quickly. Enjoy your night and embrace the certainty and uncertainty of your day tomorrow. God is with you every step of the way!

Filled to the Brim

Filled to the brim, spilling over
With the blessings that come from God.
Blessings that are never meant
To be kept only for me –
These blessings must be shared.

Filled to the brim, spilling over
With the joy that comes from God.
Joy that is not a reflection of
This day’s 24 hours –
This joy must be shared.

Filled to the brim, spilling over
With the holy love that comes from God.
Holy love that does not look
For the FULL line inside my heart –
This holy love must be shared.

This heart, a vessel, humble and plain,
Equipped to receive these gifts from God.
This heart, a vessel never intended
To hold them,
To evaluate them,
To catalogue them,
To maintain, sustain, contain or retain them.
This heart, a vessel, was created to be
Filled to the brim, spilling over
With the impact of God’s deep love for the world.

Human effort is inadequate, God’s power is infinite.
He gives blessing, joy and holy love,
Not for me, only me.
Instead,
He gives,
And gives,
And gives
AND GIVES
In perpetuity.
God gives blessing, joy and holy love
To be spilled out
Splashed lavishly, sloppily, indiscriminately,
Generously, intentionally, poured out with abandon.
I may never be able to know
Just how many people around me
Are thirsty for God:
Parched, dry, in the drought of a desert
Praying for an oasis, a cool, cool drink.

Praying for a drink,
A deep, gulping, thirst quenching drink
From a vessel, humble and plain
Touched by God’s blessing,
God’s joy,
God’s holy love.
A thirst quenching drink
From a vessel, humble and plain
Which is filled to the brim.

jsi


May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13

At The Foot of Your Throne

I find myself, LORD, at the foot of Your throne,

Once more completely, intentionally alone.

The deep melodies of praise

I might normally raise

Seem like a distant, untenable groan.



I worship you LORD, at the foot of Your throne,

A treasured experience, silently alone.

With a glimpse You can see

My heart open and free

There are no corners that contain an unknown.



I adore You, LORD, at the foot of Your throne,

Lovingly, amazingly, delightfully alone.

I will stay for the length

To receive divine strength,

I bend lower before You, now prone.



I admit while I’m here at the foot of Your throne,

It was nearly impossible to be this alone.

Every task, need and chore

Seems to holler, “Oh, there’s more!”

They all tap in – exhausting me to the bone.



But I have to stay here at the foot of Your throne,

I dare not postpone this delicious ALONE.

I need Your hidden manna,

Your promised bidden manna –

Please revive this poor heart – refresh, atone.



I remain with you LORD at the foot of Your throne

There is no one else here, but I am not alone –

You are here, You are near,

Your presence never domineers

There is deep love flowing in this Divine Prayer Zone.



Your hidden manna, Your deep strength is the key,

This bidden manna, restoring this empty me.

Please bring a bowlful, a plateful, a cup

Of Your sweet hidden manna, my weary hands reach up

To find a taste of Your manna

Your hidden, bidden manna.

Restore me with honey sweet hidden manna today.



jsi



He who has an ear let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. "To him that overcomes I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it." Revelation 2:17 NIV

Then Moses said to Aaron, "Say to the entire Israelite community, 'Come before the LORD, for He has heard your hearts.'" While Aaron was speaking to the whole Israelite community, they looked toward the desert, and there was the glory of the LORD appearing in the cloud. The LORD said to Moses, "I have heard the hearts of the Israelites. Tell them, 'At twilight you will eat meat and in the morning you will be filled with bread.. Then you will know that I AM the LORD your God.'" That evening quail came and covered the whole camp, and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the dew was gone, thin flakes like frost on the ground appeared on the desert floor. The people called the bread manna. It was white like coriander seed and tasted like wafers made with honey. Exodus 16:9-14; 31. NIV

The power of a dollar

The grocery store has got my goat right now. I just left the store with so little in my cart and my wallet is lighter than air, I considered stopping by the florist to get a ribbon for it to tie to my wrist like a treasured balloon. It really burns my muffins to feel like the choices I need to make for the healthy menu for my family has to cost me an arm, a leg and a kidney to provide.

I don't stroll through the grocery store, I keep a determined pace. I need to be armed with a list, especially when I have my T.A.N.K. with me. You know the drill, especially when you head down the cereal aisle, which now has more ways to add sugar to sugar and then keep you feeling that an additional case of sweetener needs to be added.

Why is it that "Buy One, Get Two Free" sales never apply to the real food categories? Apples. Milk. Oatmeal. Chicken. Grapes. Fresh vegetables. Peanut butter. Yogurt. Salad. Crackers. Cheese. Nectarines. Rice Krispies. These items were on my list today, and it feels like highway robbery the prices I am charged to make sure there are going to be 6-9 servings of fruits and vegetables for the next three days. And yet...and yet...ooooh...and yet, for the price I needed to pay for 7 apples I could have purchased 144 Twinkies because of BOGO opportunities in the snack cake section. Or 144 Ho Hos. Or 288 Banana Flips. Or, lets get the calculator here, 1886 donut holes. Or 36 boxes of macaroni and cheese.

Our life doesn't need more Twinkies, Ho Hos, Banana Flips....there should be a triple tax value on foods which could end your life sooner simply because of their consumption. I have five different types of lettuce to choose from for our family salads - an amazing array of choice I consider: there are so many in the world who are needing a regular, consistent meal. Yet 25 steps away from my produce section is what rivals a warehouse of cream-filled, corn syrup soaked, deep fried, need-to-be-tried, pseudo-food snack aisle which begins clogging my arteries just by its presence. Its price per pound and container is so affordable, so much less that my carrots, lettuce, cantaloupes, apples and grapes - but to what value will these savings truly bring?

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away...when thrown properly" - that's my dad's adage and he laughs everytime he says it. I laugh because it tickles his fancy, as I am eating my Gala apple (or Braeburn, or Cameo or Golden Delicious or Pink Lady or Granny Smith or Jonagold. There are so many to choose from, yet a Jonathan is still my delightfully crunchy, sour favorite.) The snacks I offer our kids can run the gambit from pretzels to cheese and crackers to veggies with dip to fruit...and occasionally there are small bags of chips. I prefer to make cookies than buy them in the store, well mostly because Snickerdoodles are my favorite cookie. Butter, sugar, eggs and flour, cinnamon - the makings of a masterpiece, and I haven't found a Snickerdoodle from the grocery store that rivals a warm-from-the-oven variety, ever.

I didn't have single sale price for any of the "real food" I needed to buy, but I could have gotten 3 free cases of soda when I bought 3. Healthy choices are breaking my budget and the freezer section is helping our daily food menu. Frozen veggies are the best substitute to the produce section and made the shopping cart a well-rounded experience, but as I am choosing a California Blend or Whole Kernal Sweet Corn, I am facing the frozen dessert display offering "Buy One Get One" half gallons of premium ice cream. For the price I needed to fork over for my four bags of veggies I could have returned home with 4 gallons of Dirt Sundae, DreamCycle Supreme, Hot Fudge Brownie and Dulce Deleche Caramele. Or four apple pies with 12 servings a piece and a total of 2600 calories per pie.

I am considering sending my grocery bill to our insurance company and advocating that I need an additional layer of help at the grocery store to be able to provide a healthy lifestyle for my family! I think its a creative, think-outside-the-box mentality that is needed in combatting this grocery store farce of commodities, supply and demand faux food market. I'm not serving roasted salmon with crab legs covered with a reduced butter and garlic sauce and artichokes with gourmet leeks. I'm not preparing Argentina prime rib with fresh picked passion fruit and a side of Chilean beets served with triple cream potatoes. But there needs to be a way that a 1 pound package of real strawberries (or even frozen strawberries, for that matter) cost less than 12 boxes of Strawberry Shortcakes Jelly Rolls. Or a half gallon container of orange juice cost less than 10 2 liters of orange soda.

I don't have many dollars, and a large part of my weekly money is spent at the grocery store to feed our family of 6. I need an advocate on the side of healthy living to be stationed at my grocery store to help the power of my dollar provide the health and strength that we need.

Not another low-priced, three-layer, 24 sliced Chocolate Dream Cheesecake.

Blasting

I don't always need a clock or a watch to know what time it is...and I know you understand what I mean. There are certain events which happen within our lives that are predictable, dependable that we can anticipate and these events have become part of the way we string together our day. I live in a railroad hub, and there are certain trains which are always coming through at 2:30 p.m. or 7:35 a.m.. They are predictable occurrences - I know which roads to avoid at what time of day. (That is, if I want to avoid a wait. Sometimes...I treasure a chance to wait, but let's keep that between you and me, eh?!.) Our home is within a 6 mile radius of 3 limestone quarries, and these quarries and their schedule make a big impact on our community.

They blast their aggregates with large amounts of explosives.

The first few times it happened I was startled, ran down to the basement to find out which of the walls had collapsed, then ran upstairs to find out which child had dropped a cherry bomb down the toilet and then ran outside to see if the roof on the back of the house had been ripped off. There was no damage to be found - innocent-looking children who "didn't do anything mommy" (yeah right, maybe not this time, but just you wait, I'll find out what you've been up to and then we're going round and round).

What could it be?

Once I found it, these blasts/tremors calmly became part of my morning, "Oh, it's 10:15". I will mention, I prefer the morning blasts to the afternoon wafting cloud...and that's all I will say about that. When my mom and mother-in-law both experienced their "first blast", I couldn't believe how I had placed it so cavalierly in my day. I have to admit, I had forgotten how amazingly surprised I was by the deep roaring sound and earthquake type tremors...my mom was a little shaky for about an hour. I should have warned her!

This past weekend at our Commissioning Congress in Hershey, PA Pastor Jim Cymbala drew us into the Scripture, into Isaiah 51, to reveal the Scripture's truest strength in revelation - GOD HAS A WORD TO SPEAK WITH YOU. He drew us all together to the edge of the a spiritual quarry to examine over the edge where we all came from. Isaiah's prophecy for 8 chapters is building up to chapter 51, and it includes the impact that the righteous God was calling His children to be righteous, to long for righteousness, to desire it, strive for it...righteousness was what they were created to have. Righteousness would be given by God's deepest gift to us - His Holy Presence. Not a gift from Him, not a gift chosen by Him, not a gift wrapped and delivered by Him - no the truest gift was The gift OF God.

I was so moved that he was drawn to share this Scripture with our united congregation: Isaiah 51 has had a hold on my heart for 4 months now, included in each devotional time I have, surrounded with new poetry and songs, and three new sermons. The listed poem below is one from April , and the photo is one of our nearby quarries. The Bible I had with me at Congress was the one I have used almost exclusively in these Scripture immersion times, and its margins were full of the annotated conversation God and I have been having. I was sharing my Bible with my oldest son, T. and he was following the dates and thoughts and the workings of my heart, "Boy, you really like this chapter, huh mom?!."

Yes, I really do.

Added to its margin is a Congress 06/07 date...
From the prophet Isaiah, "Listen to me, all you who are serious about right living and committed to seeking God. Ponder the rock from which you were cut, the quarry from which you were dug. Yes, ponder Abraham, your father and Sarah who bore you....Revelation flows from Me, My decisions light up the world. My deliverance arrives on the run, my salvation right on time. I'll bring justice to the peoples." Isaiah 51:1-2;4-6 The Message

Lord, I devote my heart to right living, to living for You. Change my heart to shine your love. Blast away the hardened parts which prevent my heart from being flexible, tender and supple. Keep me committed to seeking You - Your will, Your activity, Your touch, Your inspiration and guidance.

Blasting

The earth shakes, in its predictable way
It’s 10:15 a.m., not the dawn of the day:
The quarry, on duty, exactly on time
Is blasting it’s limestone, aggregates and lime.

The BLASTING that’s quaking,
That BLASTING that’s shaking
This BLASTING that’s making
Its roaring presence known;
Intentional blasting which reaches,
Stretches and grasps
Every corner, wall and window
Of my cul-de-sac home.

The earth shakes, in its predictable way
I don’t need a clock, the tremors convey
That the quarry, on duty, to the minute exact
Has its shift engaged and its explosives packed.

The LORD holds up a mirror
And calls me nearer…

My heart shakes, in its predictable way
I am before Holy God at the dawn of the day:
He is speaking on duty, exactly on time
And is blasting the hardness of heart that is mine.

The BLASTING that’s quaking,
That’s BLASTING that’s shaking,
This BLASTING that’s making
God’s Holy presence impart
Intentional blasting which reaches,
Stretches and grasps
Each room, shelf and closet
Of my cul-de-sac heart.

My heart shakes, in its predictable way
I don’t need a clock – I embrace this chance to pray
God’s presence, on duty, issuing a fresh start
Brings compelling love to satiate my heart.

He calls my name clearly
“Dear heart, keep yourself near Me.”

jsi