Lovingly yours

The week before last was a very rough one. A cancer threat, screaming fights with AT&T, disgruntlement with Comcast, and a very sick dog ($ 417.00 worth) were among the things that I used to excuse myself for childish behavior. I've tried to tell myself I have a totally compromised nervous system and can't help it. Calmly, cheerfully, my very dear friend and computer guru reminded me that the Lord is "chipping away." God is using negative experiences to teach me to have faith in Him. From the bottom of my heart, thank you, John.

I begin my day studying God's Word and praying. How frequently I pray to be more Christ-like, to be a real example to both those who do and do not know Christ personally. Then, something happens that catches me by nasty surprise. It can range from annoying to catastrophic. And, my behavior ranges from frustration to outrage. Not very Christ-like. Embarrassingly unChrist-like. Such behavior is a total lack of faith. If I truly believe in a Sovereign God Who is good and loving, He has a purpose and a plan for what comes into my life-good, bad, or otherwise. It's been said what He brings into our lives is to bless or to teach. Gratitude for teaching as well as blessing is what He wants and what I need.

It's often been said to never pray for patience because God will use boot-camp techniques in order to stretch our faith and our endurance. But, if that's what I have been praying for, why am I not grateful that God is hearing and answering my prayer? I long for the faith of a Corrie ten Boom without the concentration camp experience. Ain't happening. It takes one to achieve the other.

When I'm having a stubborn, whiny moment, the Lord is so very good to send me someone who can see through my childishness and call me on it WITHOUT harping, preaching, or offensively offering unsolicited advice. John did that. He gently humbled me without humiliating me or letting me know how superior he is. He spoke truth in love.

The old adage, "I'ts not what you say, but how you say it," has good reason to have been around for so long. It's Biblical, for one thing.

I don't know about you, but it's my experience unsolicited advice is rarely, if ever, correct and NEVER appreciated.  It doesn't take much to see through those who point fingers and try to make me feel inferior. Personally, I have had to learn the very hard lesson that sometimes people have turned away from what I was saying, not because they hated me or even what I was saying. It was my tone and intent. I didn't realize I was coming across as a know-it-all. Sometimes what I was saying could have been helpful if I had been more careful about how, where, why, or when I said it. Self-examination (and prayer) could have shown me what I was saying was self-serving. Publicly praise and privately criticize has become my philosophy.

One of the many reasons I appreciate my friend, John, is that I've seen him in similar predicaments and he truly exhibits Christ-like faith and endurance. He's had ample opportunity to show me how to sulk or pitch temper tantrums, but he never has. Barbara Youdarian says self-pity rots the soul. How right she is. I have so much to learn and I'm grateful God isn't finished with me, yet. I'm grateful He gives me friends who are an example and a gentle adviser.
Thank you, Lord, for John.

Attitude of gratitude

Exciting times these days. Our son called last night to relieve our anxieties about the tornado-category 2- that ripped up a few stores less than a mile away from where he and his family live. August tornadoes are rare and while there were no deaths, there were damages and injuries, but our son's family was untouched. No need to explain an attitude of gratitude there.

About 10 days ago, I broke my foot and had to stop the morning walks I was enjoying so much. It wasn't easy to be grateful because I've not been exercising for quite a while and finally got around to it again. Three weeks later, it all came to a halt. But, I am grateful. I am reminded again that God loves me and does what's best for me, He's not interested in how much I exercise. He wants to know if I trust Him to do what's best for me.

I have to admit, I wasn't too grateful this morning when I had to walk during shopping. The handicap carts have different instructions for all of them and I couldn't figure them out! A manager asked if he could help me with anything else after he told me where to find the walnuts.  I told him about the carts and he said he'd have to look into it. He understood my frustration, but I smarted off by telling him to tell that to my doctor-and my aching foot and leg! I had to go back and apologize for my bad attitude. Yes, I was frustrated and hurting, but that does not excuse me. As a Christian, I am to be Christ-like and my attitude wasn't.



While I was in the office at home, there was a loud thump, sounding like something hit the house. Concerned that Bob may have fallen, I went to check on him. Sheila was on the love seat, staring out the window, something she doesn't usually do unless someone is approaching the house. Bob was fine and on his way out the door to check on what caused the noise. "There's a car on fire in front of the school!" he exclaimed. Sure enough, flames were coming from both ends of the van. Two fire trucks and three police cars were there, but no ambulance, something to be very grateful for.

I have to say I'm grateful that the Lord has shown me that I'm too high strung to have a job like a policeman or a fireman. They took their sweet time turning the hose on the fires. Me, I would have been scampering about like something insane and not getting anything accomplished other than getting all in a dither. They got the job done in a calm, professional manner. Thanks, Lord.

What was interesting about the fire is that when they turned the hose on it, there was an explosion and a shower of large white sparks, like fireworks. Never saw anything like it before. It happened three or four times. Both in the front of the van and the back. The van was delivering new carpet for the school, so what caused the fire is unknown. Apparently, the carpet man was inside the school, ripping out the old carpet when the fire started.

Again, we have much to be grateful for. The school was just a few feet away and if the wind had been blowing in a westerly direction, it could have burned down the school. However, it was blowing in a northerly direction and there are no buildings that way that could have been harmed.

School starts in a couple of weeks, and I'm grateful for that. The boys are so precious. I had the privilege of scoring one of the boys entry tests today (gave me something to do while I'm laid up.) The boys are tested to determine what they've accomplished in previous schools, rather than for aptitude or IQ. I'm in love already and sincerely hope he'll be joining us when school starts. They're such a joy.

Not sure, though, how grateful I should be for my boss. When he called to ask if I could doing the scoring, I was telling him that I was teasing Bob about getting me one of those truffle blizzards. Bob said he didn't love me that much. Today, I told Bob he really loves me more because he knows I don't need a truffles blizzard. My boss ignored that part of the conversation and brought me one when he brought the tests. I'm grateful I don't want another one. They're OK, but nothing to write home about, so I'm grateful for the lesson.

All in all, I have much to be thankful for. The Bible tells us to be thankful in everything. It's a great way to live.

Walking in the Light

It all started while I was watching "American Ninja Warrior." It wasn't that the participating athletes said anything profound or new. They keep emphasizing the need to stay active. Inspired by their amazing feats of daring do, I decided to abandon my usual excuses and get active.

It's been a long time since I've been active about anything except my teeth. I do enjoy eating and it shows. For years, my excuse to not exercise the rest of me has been myoclonus (sudden, uncontrolled, and unexplained body movements.) I was convinced they increased with activity, especially if I rode the bicycle my son gave me. I allowed myself to believe any activity increased them. Then too, arthritis has crept in. I know, I know, exercise reduces arthritis symptoms, but I couldn't be bothered getting past the initial stiffness and soreness.

Living in Florida is a third excuse. The slightest movement causes sweating. I hate to sweat. Add to that it causes enormous time constraints to exercise in the morning then; shower, wash, dry, and style my hair, get dressed, eat breakfast, put on a face and be at work by 8:00. I'm one of those who the hurrier I go, the behinder I get. However, if I exercise in the evening, the endorphins keep me awake. Another excuse.

Seeing those athletes on Ninja has been a wake-up call. Many of them have serious health issues and yet, all are able to compete. Often, it's the ones with the serious health issues who go the farthest. Many of their stories have been deeply moving. Perhaps the one whose story has moved me the most is the wife of the competitor, rather than the competitor himself, although he trains by carrying her around because she has a very rare disease that has caused her connective tissue to deteriorate. At one point, she said every bone in her body was dislocated. The past two years, she's been a wheel chair and was expected to have a shortened life span. This past year, they've changed their diet and she's begun to exercise with her husband. This year, she's walking beside him! Amazing and humbling.

Armed with such inspiration, it was time to take action. It's often been said if walking is the exercise of choice, 10,000 steps a day are needed, about 1 1/2 hours of effort. Before anything is done, time must be spent studying God's Word and learning about Him. Resetting the alarm also became a necessity. No more sleeping to 6 a.m. Moved it back to 4 a.m., but often anticipate the clock and get up between 3:30 and 4.

At 5:30, armed with flashlights, we set out for the .6 mile hike around the ranch. It's ideal. Sheila and my husband leave me to it after 1 or 2 laps, but I don't mind. Being alone in the pre-dawn hour is a beautiful thing. Normally, I would be apprehensive about the lonely area between the pasture and the lake. It's dark and secluded. Every body of water in Florida has the potential to be home for gators and I really wouldn't want to meet one-daylight or dark. Coyotes sometimes run the property and I wouldn't want to meet them, either. It's also a discomforting thought that men love darkness because their deeds are evil.

Day two put that Scripture verse in perspective. The morning star was twinkling brightly overhead. One of Jesus' names is the Bright and Morning Star. Looking heavenward, I was reminded that I am never alone, even in that dark, secluded spot that could house any number of unpleasant situations. I even took a picture of the morning star and posted it on Facebook. Several complimented the picture.

Each day since has been one of communing with nature. The sunrises have been spectacular. When my brother was stationed in Ethiopia, Africa, he took movie after movie of clouds rolling over the high mountain peaks. The movies were beautiful, but enough was enough. I now understand why he did it. Every morning, the sunrises are so incredible, I just want to share them with everyone. You have to be there to really appreciate them in all their glory.

Only not with me. Where you are. I cherish my time alone. It starts my day peacefully and gratefully. I have 1 1/2 hours to pray, praising the Lord for how good He is, thanking Him for the wonderful place where I live, and asking Him to care for my family, my friends, my country, as well as all those associated with Shiloh Tabernacle Ministries, Inc. Of course, I ask for me, too.

It's next to impossible to have a private audience with a very important person and yet, every morning, I have a private audience with the King of kings, the Lord of lords, the Creator of the Universe, the Prince of Peace.  Walking in the Light as He is in the light. Life doesn't get better than this.

Statuesque

Statuesque is such a nice word.  To be honest, I thought it was a nice way of calling someone fat, so when a woman called me "statuesque" yesterday, that was my first thought. I knew it meant more than that, so I took it as a compliment and after actually taking the time to look it up, I learned it was an enormous compliment.

Especially after I looked up the definition.  Tall and dignified.  School always taught me the first definition is the preferred one.  I'll take it, even though I'm not considered tall by today's standards.
The dictionary goes on to say imposing, striking, stately, majestic, noble, magnificent, splendid, impressive, royal, massive, and beauty.  Please note, of all those words, the only one that implies fat is massive and that word is massively outnumbered by more complimentary ones. I am not only complimented, I stand corrected. Sweet.

Then, to add to that one, the woman said I reminded her of Barbara Bush!  I assumed she was talking about my white hair. I mentioned that I loved wearing royal blue because it looked so beautiful on her at the inaugural ball. I figured if it complimented her hair and complexion, it would do the same for me. And, it does. When someone says I look good in that color, I mention how good it looked on Mrs. Bush.

She looks good in red, too, doesn't she? So do I. When I responded that those colors go well with the color of our hair, the woman who started this whole conversation said it wasn't just the white hair.  It was my whole demeanor, my countenance.  She said she kept watching me as I browsed through the books, saying she thought some of the words that define statuesque. It was humbling to hear her high praise, especially since I'd never met her before.





It bothers me when I'm expected to talk about myself.  It's taken me two years to come up with a bio for my books.  It's something that needs done, I know, but I honestly don't know what to say. Authors should include bios, but I'd rather someone else wrote mine.  The one I did was about 150 words instead of the 400+ available.

I don't like to hear others brag and I hate it even more when it comes from me.  Bragging, to me, is a strong sign of insecurity.  Proverbs 27:2 says, "Let another man praise you, and not your own mouth; A stranger, and not your own lips. I'm sure the high praise pouring from that woman's lips meant far more to me and the friend who was with me than anything I could have ever said about myself.  She blessed me greatly and I'm grateful.

Restraints

Oh, the things I do to try to get my weight under control.  This morning might have been one of the healthier attempts, but it was even more different than ever. My weight has yo-yoed since I was 13 years old.  I'm within months of 60 years of that kind of foolishness. Unfortunately, the "experts" tell me it will never stop. According to most, it will never get better, so at the age of 72+++, I'm supposed to be stronger to fight those urges than I was at 13? Get serious.

I will, however, never give up. Why bother you ask? I Corinthians 6 tells us why sexual immorality is wrong.  The same principle needs to be applied to food. "You are not your own; you were bought with a price. Therefore, honor God with your bodies." I'm overcome with a sense of guilt when I overeat because I know I'm not honoring God with my body. I'm denigrating what I cost Him to save me from my sins.

The second reason is that my poor old body is wearing out. I've been on cholesterol medicine for almost 10 years now and I have a sneaking suspicion the doctor is going to strongly recommend blood pressure meds as well. My numbers are beginning to climb a little. When I finally caved on the cholesterol meds, the nurse said if I got my numbers under control, I could always go off them.  And, she's right.  Those times I'm exercising and watching what I eat, my numbers go down.  Trouble is, I don't discipline myself to the point where they stay down. My Romans 7 mode creeps up on me all too easily and too quickly.  Next thing you know, I'm a runaway freight train. Long story short, age isn't the only thing ruining my body. I'm trashing my temple.

Reason three, of course, is appearance. A church bulletin once said, "Never judge someone by the way they look, but always remember that's how you are being judged.  It's not so much vanity as sit is practicality. For some reason, obesity is always associated with stupidity.  It's also a matter of respecting others. We need to show we care about them by looking like they're worth the effort.

I don't think there's a diet on the market I haven't tried and I say again, all programs work, as long as I work the program.  My problem is that I'm too much of a free spirit to stick with any program for any length of time. Recently, an ad began on TV, urging people to lose weight through the "GOLO." program.  Desperate, I called and ordered a month's supply of the supplement.  With it came a new food program, which is different from anything else I've ever tried.

It calls for a cup of vegetables at breakfast!  Eggs and vegetables, fine, but oatmeal and vegetables?  A friend suggested carrots, but I couldn't see me eating a cup of carrots with my oatmeal, so I continued to eat the egg and cheese with peppers,onions, and mushrooms. I'd been eating oatmeal for years and got really tired of it.  This morning, the wild idea to add spinach and mushrooms to my oatmeal struck a chord, so I thought I'd try it. In the first place, I'm a cranberry nut and always put them in my oatmeal.  I've eaten spinach and cranberries in my salads, so I thought, "Why not?" Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

My recipe for my vegetable oatmeal is as follows: 1/4 cup chopped mushrooms, 3/4 cup chopped spinach, 1 tsp. coconut oil, 1 tsp. light agave, 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon, 2 tbs. chopped walnuts, 2 tbs. dried cranberries, 1 tbs. PURE cranberry juice, diluted with water to 1/2 cup liquid, 1/4 cup oatmeal. Microwave at 1/2 power for 5 minutes. Enjoy with 1/2 cup of milk.  I know I did.

I have to say this program does more to help me RESTRAIN sensual indulgence (Colossians 2:23) than any other program I've tried. but then I've said that at the start of every program that's ever succeeded for a short period. Lunch also calls for a very large amount of food and I'm still not hungry by then.  Here's where the personalizing comes in. Instead of eating everything I'm entitled to at the prescribed meal times, I've begun to eat lunch about 2:30 or 3:00. when I actually am hungry. For supper, I have 1/2 cup or cottage cheese or Greek yogurt with 1/2 cup of fruit-if I feel the need. Don't feel sorry for Bob. He's thrilled. He's a grazer and getting him to a table for a meal is a battle.

Lest I give the impression I'm touting another program that I believe answers my needs and start pushing it off on anyone else, let me hasten to add that it's not the program .It's Who's in control.  As a believer in Jesus Christ, I have ALL I need to discipline myself in the area of food. Like a clerk at Wal-Mart said last week, "It's a matter of surrender."

What or whom shall I surrender to?  Food, the scale, opinions, fashion, or the Lord? II Corinthians 10:3-5 is a good place to start. Stay tuned.

What was that?

It started more than 15 years ago.  My abdomen would jump like I was late in pregnancy and the child in my womb was very active. Trouble was, I was in my late 50's and several years after a complete hysterectomy. (The doctor took so much out, I can never remember what all he did take.) I would forget about the jumping abdomen-until it happened again a couple of months later. I just hoped it never happened in public. I was sure I would die of pure humiliation.

Over the years, however, it has happened in public.  The first time was at school while I was working with a boy.  He laughed, not because he was making fun of me, but because he was startled and perhaps a little nervous. The number of times have increased dramatically and the severity has increased as well. In 2007, I finally found a neurologist who said if he couldn't find the problem, he'd find someone in the country who could.  We were impressed.

His news, however, was not what we wanted to hear.  My spinal cord has been damaged and the spinal cord fluid that is supposed to protect the cord has flowed into the opening, forming a cyst, called a syrinx. There's nothing that can be done.  If surgery is done, 33% of the time, nothing changes.  33% of the time it does stop, but 33% of the time it gets worse, including the possibility of paralysis.  At this point I'm having dozens, sometimes hundreds of tics a day.  Some are minor, most are severe. They can also be noisy.  Ever have someone slap you on the back and shock you to the point you yell?  That's what happens to me.  Sometimes they take my breath away and cause me to grunt.

The first thing the doctor said was that anything could trigger them.  So far, I've discovered that stimulants trigger them.  No chocolate or coffee or caffeine. Fatigue causes them and they, in turn, cause fatigue. Stress causes them, and they, in turn cause stress. Lack of sleep causes them. Change of weather causes them.  A severe rain storm the other night brought on a severe attack. Most of the time, they just happen for unknown reasons.

Several medications have been attempted, but all have failed. Perhaps they've failed because they're seizure medicines for the brain and my problem is in my spine.  They work for a short period of time and then the tics begin to increase and the medicine actually causes the increase.

The tics themselves are not painful, but they are debilitating. The fatigue hampers me physically.  I can't get nearly as much done as I would like to do.  I can't exercise because they increase.  It is emotionally exhausting.  When they get especially bad, I have no control over my emotions.  All I want to do is cry.  They are destructive socially.  If I have them in public, people are startled and ask me if I'm OK.  Then, comes the assumption that I have Tourette's Syndrome.  I feel compelled to explain what's going on and to say "Don't feel sorry for me." I told one friend if she did, I'd lose it.  Wrong answer. My answer needs to be that it's a sacrifice of thanksgiving. But. rather than endure people's kind attempts to help or to feel sorry for me, I tend to stay home more. It really is a boring conversation to talk about your ailments all the time. Spiritually, it's draining.  Studying God's Word and praying are harder to do because concentration is harder. Inability to concentrate doesn't do much for thinking, either, thus compromising my mental processing.

Luke 2:52 says Jesus grew "in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man." I'm doing none of that.  What good are they?  I've been anointed and prayed for and I have not been healed.  How can this situation possibly bring glory to God?

At the moment, I'm reading Elizabeth Elliot's book, Passion and Purity.  In Chapter 13, "Material for Sacrifice," she states that blessings we receive from the Lord are to be shared, not selfishly kept to ourselves.  That makes sense.  If God gives material blessings, we are to share with those who have needs.  But, how in the world does that have anything to do with what I'm going through?

Perhaps it has as much to do with my tics as it did her saying goodbye to the man she loved and who loved her.  They were unsure they'd ever meet again or marry.  At that point in their relationship, Jim was sure God wanted him to remain single even though he loved Elizabeth and she loved him.  It was a painful situation.  And, yet, they saw this as something God wanted them to go through.  They were willing to endure the pain of loneliness for the glory of God.

Those who think God only gives good things will not see my tics as something good. Nor will they see that I have not been healed as something good.  The comments I have received from those who feel that way have indicated a lack of respect and understanding.  Somehow, I'm not spiritually where God wants me to be.

What I know is that God understands and He's allowed this situation in my life for His glory.  E.E. said when someone complained of loneliness she'd tell her to give it to Jesus and the woman would not understand.  E.E.'s answer is spot on.  Giving it to Jesus is the only answer.  It's a sacrifice to Him and He's totally worth it.

No, I'm not always smiling or grateful for this affliction.  In fact, this morning, on the way to Wal-Mart, I was crying out to God for the help to endure the situation.  But, that's what brought the peace! Perhaps that's the point.  When we are desperate, we turn to the Lord. When things are going smoothly, same may think they don't need the Lord and might even be rather smug that they're not suffering like other people do.  God's blessing them because they deserve it.

I often quote Psalm 119:71.  "It was good for me to be afflicted that I might learn your decrees." And, I often quote Sarah Young. "Do not recoil from afflictions, since they are among My most favored gifts."  Understanding that affliction is a gift from God that I might learn from Him truly is a blessing.

I Come to the Garden Alone

This morning, Sarah Young's writing in Jesus Calling reminded me of  childhood experiences that have done much to make me who I am today.  In today's devotional, she said, "Your deepest, most constant need is for My Peace. I have planted Peace in the garden of your heart, where I live but there are weeds growing there too: pride, worry, selfishness, unbelief. I am the Gardner, and I am working to rid your heart of those weeds.  When you sit quietly with Me, I shine the Light of My Presence directly into your heart. In this heavenly Light, Peace grows abundantly and weeds shrivel up.  When you trust Me in the midst of trouble, Peace flourishes and weeds die away.  Thank Me for troublesome situations; The Peace they can produce far outweighs the trials you endure."

To begin with, I grew up in a small bedroom community of Pittsburgh, PA. If you know anything about the state, you know it's all up hill, down hill or around a corner. The hill I lived on had two nicknames.  It was known as "Big Bug Hill" because the first street had many big, Victorian structures. It was also know as "Boy Scout Cabin Hill."

The Boy Scout Cabin was in a lonely, isolated, and heavily wooded part of the hill at the edge of town.  Above that area is where the majority of the houses were-until the field above where I lived was turned into a housing development while I was in Germany.  More about that later.

At the bottom of the hill was a creek and on one bank of the creek was a path beneath the trees. The other bank was steep and had one house and the far side of the bridge that crossed the creek.  Just beyond the house and the creek was a highway that took you out of our small community.  But, it was along that path that God gave me what I felt was my own special garden. Tall trees made the path and hillside very shady and not much grew under the trees, except in springtime. Then, violets would grow and I would wonder along that path, alone, and listen to the creek bubbling over the rocks and pick those violets.

I've come to understand I wasn't really alone.  The Lord was with me. I learned as a young girl to appreciate the beauty of what God had created. The beauty He's created is so lavish and it's for us!

Another place I used to wander was closer to the top of the hill.  At the very top of the hill was a farm. A little lower was a wide open field.  I spent a lot of time wandering there, too.  The grass would grow about knee high and I don't ever remember it being mowed.  After frosts and winter freezes, that grass would turn the color of wheat and coil into tight little curls.  That made it easier to find the tiny little forget-me-nots, clothed in their pale blue with bright yellow centers.  Joyce Kilmer was right in saying only God could make a tree.  Only He can clothe the lilies of the field, too.  And the forget-me-nots.  Can't remember how many times I tried to transplant them in my yard, but they never made it. Today, that open field is covered with houses.  I'm grateful that didn't happen until after I was grown and gone. Enjoying the peace of God's Presence would never have happened if those houses were built earlier.

I've come to so deeply appreciate those times alone in God's creation.  It's often been said that David spent many lonely days and nights watching the sheep and communicating with the Lord.  I'm not the poet David was and my life has never touched royal palaces, but God touched my heart because of all that time I spent with no human companionship, marveling at the beauty of God's creation.  It humbles me to think He did that for me and I'm grateful. Is it any wonder I marvel at Zephaniah 3:17? It's so humbling to realize that God takes great delight in me, quiets me with His love, and rejoices over me with singing.  He chose those times to be alone with me!

There was other reasons for my lack of human companionship.  Our house was directly across the street from the Boy's Home, where most of the boys were placed there by the state for repeated minor infractions of the law.  Parents didn't trust those boys and the only thing separating those boys and our house

were shrubs surrounding the playground.  Then, too, my mother was what popular 80's pop psychologist, John Bradshaw called "shame-based."  She was ashamed of everything and was never comfortable with company in the house.  I was alone much of my childhood, unless I chose to visit a neighbor.

I learned to make friends through books and wandering the field and by the creek, enjoying God's creation. I would say my childhood made me the richest girl in town.

Singing Along Life's Road

Pastor and author Vance Havener once wrote that more lies are told over a hymnbook than any other place.  How often have I sung the hymns in church because that's what was being done at the time? Knowing the hymns by heart doesn't really mean they're in my heart and changing it. Sad. Since I've read Havener's comment, I've made every effort to pay attention to what's being sung.  Setting truth to music is to benefit the believer and zoning out is not only losing the benefits, it makes me a liar.

Not long ago, Ravi Zacharias made the comment that our relationship with Jesus Christ affects all of us, including our emotions.  In fact, Luke 2:52 says that Jesus grew "in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man."  His intellect grew, He grew physically, He grew spiritually, and socially. Campus Crusade for Christ taught me that it's important for those four areas to grow in order to be healthy.  Dr. Widder, professor at Moody Bible Institute, taught that when all of those areas are in sync, emotional health is stable as well.

Zacharias stated firmly several times he was not talking about frenzied emotional acts that passes for worship, but a deep response to who God is and what He's done.  If that deep response is absent, there's something wrong with my relationship.  His words convicted me, like Vance Havener's writing.

It sent me on a search for the Lord with my whole heart.  I felt that my first love had grown cold, like the Lord had accused the Ephesian church in Revelation 2:4. My relationship was restored and refreshed by the Lord.  It was nothing I did, except search for Him wholeheartedly.  It started Sunday morning when my granddaughter and I attended Easter Sunday service at the large Baptist church we had attended the Sunday after Thanksgiving. The orchestra began the service by playing a medley of Easter hymns.  I can't even tell you which ones now, but it brought tears to my eyes.

I like this particular church that we visit.  They are a huge church of thousands and 2, maybe 3 services each Sunday.  This has never been the type of church we're accustomed to attending or joining.  The church we belong to now is less than 200, but it's family and truth is being preached. It's also a church that sings hymns and Gospel songs rather than choruses.  Going into a huge church means the music is going to be different.  There's no hymn books.  Power point means that singing is "Off the wall" according to one man.  Since I'm unaccustomed to the music, it's hard to join in.

This particular church, however, has a pastor who loves the old hymns and at least one is sung during the service.  It makes the music more meaningful to me. It enhances worship.  This particular pastor also preaches truth.  His Easter message was a strong sermon on how to be sure we truly know Christ. The message and the final song continued the powerful emotions that were coursing through me.  I doubt anyone knew what was going on in my heart and that, to me, is the way it should be.  It was worship that God knew and that's all that's important.

But, that service was in Jacksonville and it may be months before we get back there.  Even here at home, services are not ongoing.  I am not putting down my own church.  Truth is preached and hymns are sung.  Unfortunately, 200 or less singing is not quite so amazing as 2,000. Obviously, there's more to life than attending church and singing hymns, so how do I nourish that first love in everyday life in Sebastian?

Enter the internet.  Over a year ago, I mentioned to a friend that the Christmas song, "Ten Thousand Joys" is the most beautiful Christmas carol I ever heard, but I only got to hear it once.  My friend said to pull it up on youtube and listen to it at home.  Well, duh.  I did as she suggested and will each Christmas God leaves me here on earth. Unfortunately, until yesterday, I never thought to take that advice for other hymns.

Now, as well as spending time in prayer and Bible reading, I listen to heavenly voices lifting praise to the Lord and my spirit is nourished.  I don't have to listen to the news, to the bickering, the lies, the rudeness, the vulgarity. Thank you, Lord.

What's my problem?

Those who know me, have seen me, and stuck with me, have done so through thick and thin.  I've been gaining and losing weight since is was 13 years old.  Each time I lose, I am so confident it's the last time I'll have to endure that and before long, I'm back where I started.  Of course, over the years, the number on the scale has climbed higher and higher.

I've always known obesity is sin because food becomes my idol.  If I'm not dieting, I eat everything in sight.  If I am dieting, I'm obsessing about what I can eat, when, and how much. I'm a comfort eater, an anger eater, a frustration eater, a social eater, an "it's time to eat" eater.  I've even said I eat anything that doesn't bite back.  But, it's no joke. It makes me miserable and consumed with guilt at being such a failure.

But, God is so faithful.  Sunday, Ravi Zacharias spoke about guilt being very destructive to love.  He used the illustration of a brother and sister.  The brother had a large bag of marbles and his sister had a bag of candy. He asked if she wanted to swap and she agreed.  Before the swap, he discovered he had several very good marbles he decided he'd keep.  She'd never know. That night, after the swap, she slept like a baby, but he didn't sleep a wink. Why?  He kept worrying that she'd not given him all her candy. He ended his message asking if we're suffering from guilt, what have we not surrendered to the Lord?

Next came the pastor's message on I Thessalonians 5:23-24. "May God Himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through.  May your whole spirit, soul, and body be kept blameless at the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ. The One Who calls you is faithful and He will do it."  Pastor pointed out that the spirit guides the soul (intellect, will, emotions) and the soul guides the body.

All these years, I've been doing it backwards. I've believed getting the body under control will help the emotions and that will make me feel better spiritually.  NOT.  Years ago, Pastor said we experience God in our spirit, express God in our soul, and exhibit God in our body.  And it never happens backward.  We cannot become Christians by good works and Christian talk if the spirit has not been quickened. (Ephesians 2:1) I've known that about salvation, but never thought about it in regard to my weight.

Monday, I saw my neurologist.  I'd gained another 6 pounds in 3 months.  I explained to him I was searching for intrinsic motivation and diets are extrinsic. That's why they fail.  They "do nothing to restrain sensual indulgence." (Colossians 2:23)

Yesterday, I was reading "God's Smuggler" with one of the students. Brother Andrew tells of his lessons on faith while he was in school for missions. The school was 100% by faith and naturally, finances were a challenge.  At one point, Brother Andrew was looking in gutters for pennies.  It made him realize that it wasn't about money, it was about relationship.  When he worked at the chocolate factory, he expected to be paid for his work and he was.  He had to trust the Lord to meet his needs just like the factory paid him for his work.   That made me wonder if I've been obedient to the Lord, expecting Him to meet my needs instead of basing it on love-on relationship.  Christianity is not about quid pro quo. Was I trying hard to be at a normal weight to prove I was in a right relationship with Him, rather than a right relationship with Him controlling my weight? What part of Matthew 6:33 did I not understand?  "Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things will be given to you."

This morning, Sarah Young said, "Trying not to think about something is usually ineffective and counterproductive. The effort to stop think about the matter keeps you chained to those thoughts. However, you can beak free by focusing your attention on Me and what I'm doing in your life." Jesus Today page 71.  Seeking God's Presence instead of wondering what I'm going to fix for dinner, my allotment of protein and carbs, what that new treat would taste like, etc, has been more fulfilling. Jesus said He came to give us abundant life and I've missed so much by seeking abundance in the kitchen or my appearance.  Dieting or gorging-and there's never been a middle ground-has been all about the food.

Above all, I'm grateful that He promises "The One Who calls you is faithful, and He will do it." I know me and I know I can't do it without Him.





 

Not so bad

I've come to the conclusion getting old is not so bad.  Oh sure, the aches, pains, sags, and wrinkles are unappealing, but they're not deadly.  I've often said getting old beats the alternative. For the Christian, that's not true, but we always have the feeling there's something more we could have done or there's something better coming, so facing death can be difficult.

However, if we didn't age, who'd want to die?  Even if we know we're going to be far better off, there's still that pull to keep going, aches, pains, sags, wrinkles and everything else that goes with it.

Many times, the elderly - that's word that got me to thinking along these lines - feel left behind.  Life is moving with breathtaking swiftness, to be sure and keeping up gets increasingly difficult for we who have more water under the bridge than most.

A few days ago, I finally joined the 21st century in yet another way.  Not kicking and screaming nearly as much as with the computer, but it became apparent a smart phone is a necessity for selling my books.  I have yet to figure out how to use it, but I'm determined and I'm learning. I bought it Tuesday and had to go back on Wednesday to get it hooked up to the bluetooth in the car.

While going through to long process of choosing and purchasing the phone, I met three young men and had some wonderful conversations with them.  It turns out one of them will vote for Trump, one will vote for Sanders, and the third is, like me, still undecided.  They laughed and joked about their differences, including me in their banter.  The thing I really liked is that they didn't dismiss me as a crochety old lady who didn't know what she was talking about. Each listened respectfully as different opinions were given.  I was firm in some of my comments. The one who is voting for Sanders said he just wants big corporations to pay their fair share. When I asked about the company he works for he kind of shrugged it off.  I strongly implied that was cowardice and hypocrisy.  He got my message, but was not offended.  Amazing.  If I'd have said those things as a young woman or even a middle aged one, he might not have been as accepting.

When I got home, I realized some things were left undone.  I called to ask about the things we had discussed, but had not completed.  I called three times, letting the phone ring 15 times each.  No answer.  I went back the next day.  While there, I gave them some business advice, telling them the phone should be answered by the third ring. It's just good business.  They explained they only have one line and no call waiting, excusing themselves.  I agreed.

One of the young men went to the car to install the phone and called back to the store to insure it had properly installed.  The first thing the young man who answered said, "I picked up in two rings!" Again, they got the message loud and clear. Again, that wouldn't have happened if I were 20, 30, or even 40 years younger.  Getting old isn't so bad.

I remember my children sitting at their grandparents feet, listening in open mouthed awe to stories of what it was like to live in their day. Now, it's beginning to happen me. One young man was in shock when I said I'd never even held a smart phone until I bought one the day before. Kids these days don't know what it's like to be without smart phones, laptops, tablets, X-box and a whole lot of other things we never had.

It doesn't really make me feel old to not have ha those things or not to need them.  It makes me feel like a pioneer.  It makes me feel rugged, strong, and forget the aches, pains, sags, and wrinkles.  Like my mother, who used to say she was not a senior citizen or elderly, she was old.  Nothing wrong with that. We've survived a lot and I for one am not ashamed to call myself old.  Being old is not so bad.

Scary

Whoo, howdy!  Here I go again. Today, my computer guru set up my Facebook page for my book(s). It's one thing to watch an expert, take notes, and then when I'm all by myself, to follow his steps and daily post on the site.

I can see the wisdom of engaging in social media in order to be more successful as an author, or any business for that matter.  One of the big lessons I learned today is to shift my thinking - again- to be more professional.  I am such an amateur and I have so much to learn.  How many times have I said that before?

About 3/4 of the way through today's instruction, I wailed, "I'm drowning." There so much to learn. Then again, I've always said the day I stop learning is the day I die.

There's a popular expression in the athletic world these days.  It was never used in my day.  If it had been, perhaps more of us my age would be in better physical condition.  The expression is "muscle memory."  The way professional athletes get to be as good as they are is to practice certain moves so much, the body reacts in a certain way without even thinking about it.  I imagine that's what happened when the Steeler had a spectacular gymnastic catch a few weeks ago.  His muscles responded automatically.

The brain, I'm told, works the same way.  That's one reason I work with the boys in school to memorize, memorize, memorize.  The more they quote something, the better they do.  They're improving their ability to remember what they're learning with each time they repeat it.

Therefore, I will have to learn to repeat the steps shown to me until they become second nature. When those steps become second nature, I'll move to something new.  Who know?  Someday, I might even be good at it. Stay tuned.

Crooked tree

A palm tree between here and Melbourne intrigues me.  It slants slightly toward the river for 15 or 20 feet, then takes a sharp turn away from the river toward US#1.  For the next few feet, it slowly makes its way back towards the river.  A very strange looking tree, but it reminded me of my walk with the Lord.  How?

Things seem to be going very well for a while, then I decide to take over and I take off for parts unknown.  All the while, however, God, in His steadfast love, draws me back to Himself.

For example, I had an appointment with my neurologist this morning.  I've been fussing and fretting about it for weeks.  To go back a few appointments, last summer, I asked the doctor about Alzheimer's tests. I was curious, but he immediately arranged for the test.  It's a simple test of questions, testing memory and ability to concentrate.

I asked the doctor why he gave it to me.  He said Alzheimer's occurs more frequently in women at age 70 and increases even more at age 80.  If I remember correctly, it's 25% of 70 year olds and 50% of 80 year olds. I thought the one test that I did "very well" on would mean no more tests, but I was wrong.  The next appointment, the nurse gave it to me again.  This time I noticed she was writing numbers on the test and I got offended.  Any scoring she does is purely subjective and I wasn't going there.  I was fully ready to go in there this morning and lower the boom.

Before I went, I had my time alone with the Lord.  The Psalmist asked the Lord to be His refuge. Sarah Young often advises the simple calling on Jesus can make a great difference.  I asked the Lord to be my refuge, my shield, my fortress.  As I was praying, I was reminded I was obsessing about this offensive test and asked forgiveness, asking the Lord to be my focus for the day.

The nurse that checked me in was a little cool.  She's also the one who administers the test and takes my weight (UGH). I mentioned I was early because we have to drive 30 miles and I never know what traffic and construction will be like.  She smiled and said she understood.  I then told her about a sign in a bar in Pearl City, Hawaii, that says, "Every road between here and Honolulu is under construction."  That made her laugh.

When it came time for weight, blood pressure, and Alzheimer's test, I cooperated with a smile.  When we got done with the test, I asked her about her writing on it, out of curiosity.  Turns out, each question has a point for each correctly answered question.  She was merely indicating how I answered each questions.  Facts, not opinions, as I had assumed.  We ended up having one of the nicest meetings I've ever had.  I realized I'd had a bad attitude and a chip on my shoulder.  Thanks to the Lord's steadfast love, He took away the chip and the attitude, filled me with His love, and made my appointment much more pleasant for all concerned.

One of the questions on the test asks that world be spelled backwards.  I told her I could quote the books of the New Testament backwards.  She looked at me in awe and said it was impressive.  Not sure why I even mentioned it.  But, I can.  If it keeps the Alzheimer's at bay, I'll do it.

She even complimented me on my handwriting!  She asked if I were a calligrapher!  That is a first. My handwriting is terrible.  I've been practicing and trying to do better because I teach cursive and it's a little hypocritical to have terrible handwriting and feel free to correct boys who don't.  

The doctor's news was also good. All in all, a great day.  The best of it is that God drew me to Himself, corrected my bad attitude and filled me with joy. My tree may be crooked, but it's thriving, by God' wonderful grace.

Tangible

If my Christmas blog seemed like a brag or a selfish list of the gifts I received, I expressed it badly leading you to misunderstand.  And, I'm sorry.  I apologize. In the first place, I've been needing a laptop for quite a while now.  It was a wonderful gift.  Even better, it was a tangible expression of children who love me.

Bob had every intention of making a laptop his gift to me this year until our son and daughter-in-law beat him to it.  He then decided to get me a purse and shoes, but the purse was the kid's gift for my birthday. While out shopping, I saw a pair of shoes that were supposed to be comfortable on my bunion.  Since it was Christmas Eve, Bob laughingly agreed to the purchase when I asked him Before I made the purchase, he took Deb outside to the porch and scolded her for messing up his plans.  He then had Deb wrap a large amount of cash in a small box to give to me from him. That was his tangible expression of his love for me. He was emotional as he told me I could only spend it on clothes.  No bills, no appliances, nothing by clothes.

I now understand the wisdom of our son and daughter-in-law's agreement that no personal purchases be made between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It might be on the gift list.

Getting back to tangible, it's my heart's desire to be able to tell those who will listen that sex is not love.  It's a tangible expression of that love.  Or not. That's why the movie my granddaughter wanted me to see was so disturbing. It had nothing to do with love. She did say the story would eventually work into something sweet and loving.  Sorry.  I'm not buying it anymore than I'd eat a delicious dinner covered in sewage.  Wouldn't it be nice if Hollywood would go back to understanding the imagination is so much more powerful than the visual? It would be even nicer if they understood that indiscriminate sex has nothing to do with love.

One of my favorite movies is "The Quiet Man."  You don't have to see sweaty, entangled flesh on a bed to know when love has been consummated. A certain look, a sweet smile, a brief touch. I'm a firm believer that love begins in the spirit.  There's a certain connection experienced. Over time, it moves to the soul.  Love is expressed.  Finally, love is tangibly exhibited by giving self to another and no one else.  That's how it's been done throughout history and until society returns to that, we'll continue to have STDs, broken hearts, single moms, impoverished children, and lonely, lonely people who can't figure out what went wrong.

Did I need the laptop or the cash to know I was loved or to celebrate the birth of my Lord and Savior? Or course, not, but every once in a while, that tangible expression doesn't hurt.  It made the day very special, not because of the gifts but of what they expressed.

Touchy little boogers

I'm on my laptop trying to navigate through the sorts of things I already know how to do (Facebook, e-mail).  Laptops are touchy little things.  If you've posted on Facebook and I haven't responded, it's probably because I haven't got the hang of scrolling, yet. I go too far and have to back up.  I back up and go too far, missing the ones I want to see.  I have learned this morning that it takes a very delicate touch.

I also need to learn to keep my fingers off the tracker while I'm thinking.  All sorts of little boxes pop up or the cursor departs to places I did not intend for it to go.  When I start to type again, my letters are not in the right place.

How I get Facebook to expand the size of the pictures and put the comments on the side, I have no idea.  It's happened several times this morning.  My answer?  Close it out and go back in.  Can't tell you how many times that's happened.

On e-mail, Sometimes there's a blue line across some of what's written or even all of it.  Don't know how that happens or how to get rid of it. It comes in that way.  Haven't done anything to it, but need to learn how to get rid of it so I can at least see what my friend has to say.

My generation and the generation under mine often talk about young people today being whiners. Everything's too hard.  Well, guess what?  They ain't the only ones! I'm not saying this is too hard. That would be insulting my God-given intelligence.  But, I will say it ain't easy!  I've said it before and I'll say it again.  I will conquer this.  I will.  That will be the best way I can say thank you to my son and daughter-in-law for giving me this gift.  Stay tuned.

Own it

In Jane Austen speak, today I'm two and seventy.  And proud of it.  God has given me 72 wonderful years and I say what's the sense of hiding it?  I had an aunt that changed her birth certificate so often, her daughter said it was unreadable.  Why?  It doesn't change the facts.  So, here I am.  72 years old. What's next, Lord?

This morning, we walked down by the river, hoping to see the sunrise.  Unfortunately, it was too cloudy, but it was windy and very cool.  More like Christmas weather.  Loved it.  Loved that gray sky.  I loved it even more because it was my sweet husband's suggestion.  He doesn't often make suggestions.

A friend played the cello during the singing in church today and we sang several carols.  Loved that. I hear bass tones more than tenor and soprano, so the carols sounded better.  Carols aren't played publicly that much anymore and it breaks my heart.  I've told Wal-Mart that carols make me want to shop.  If they want to be politically correct and skip them, that's their loss. Go ahead.  Shoot themselves in the foot.

After church, there was a dinner and that was lovely.  It's a great way to grow closer to those who attend the same church, have the same values, and care about one another.  Our world is so busy, so wrapped up in activity and staying in contact electronically, it's nice to have warm chats with others face to face.  It's old-fashioned and even young people are complaining about electronic contact missing something.  It gives me hope that the old-fashioned way of face to face will someday be seen for the wonderful thing it is and others will return to it.

Facebook has posted many Happy Birthday wishes from friends and acquaintances all over the country.  That's made me smile, too.  Just hung up after talking to a friend in Mississippi who always calls me on my birthday and vice versa.  One son called the day before and the other son called late in the evening.  Icing on the cake.  All in all, it's been a lovely day.  Having my foot in two different worlds can be confusing and frustrating, but it can also be beautiful and memorable.

I have to say I've had a lovely life.  I often think about my junior English class in high school.  We were asked to write an essay about what we'd do if we knew we'd be blind in a year.  I said I'd want to travel and see places that I could store in my memory.  Well, 33 moves in 52 years fulfilled that dream.

I'm a people person.  Love getting acquainted and learning about people.  Needless to say, all those moves have made it possible to make many friends in many places.  The memories I have of the wonderful people I've met would fill volumes.

Going to college was expected of me and my dream as well, but I didn't finish.  Instead, I married the man of my dreams and did all that traveling.  Our loving Lord opened the doors for me to finish at Moody Bible Institute after the boys were gone from home.  God is so good.  I'm reminded of a chorus we used to sing in the 70's "All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife, but He made something beautiful of my life."  It's so true.  I've made so many mistakes, done so many stupid things, but He's taken it all and made it beautiful.

Those sons have become fine men who've made us so proud.  And, they've given us four wonderful grandchildren and a great grandson.  Can't ask for more than that.  Dealing with boys at school who come from so much chaos in their lives, I can only say thank you for the way God has worked in our family.

Speaking of the boys I now work with, it's given me purpose and meaning.  It looks like I'm one of those who's going to burn out instead of rust out.  Thank you, Lord. While my memories are precious and the culture of today is going in a direction I don't understand or like, I still have work to do and if I can be relevant in this day and age, I'm grateful-just so I can do it without all the gadgets!

Although, I do have to say the gadgets have their advantages, too.  It's been a lifelong dream to write and it's finally come to pass, thanks to the computer.  Thanks to Facebook, Linked In, Pinterest, et al, I can stay in contact with friends and loved ones all over the world, meet and make new friends, and even learn more about the world we live in.  I have to say that's one good thing about the gadgets I fight with that everyone else loves.  I've been quite repetitive, haven't I?  Typical of people my age.  Live with it.  I have to.  24/7.  It's not that bad for you.  Then too, your day is coming!  I just got here first.

So, again, I ask, what's next, Lord?  Stay tuned.

80 (cont.)

How can I describe the man I've been married to for 52 years in a few short paragraphs?  Therefore, I continue. We met at a farm cow pond outside my home town.  That farm no longer exists.  It's been made into a park.  Bob later said he decided the instant he saw me I would be the mother of his children.  Maybe his wife.  He was a Californian.  His standards were skewed.

We'd been dating 3 1/2 weeks when he proposed, but he still wanted me to finish college.  He said it would be a real feather in his cap to be a soldier who's wife had a college education.  At the time, he was a high school drop out.  Eventually, he was able to get his GED and an AA.  College meant a lot more back then than it does today.  However, he was transferred to El Paso, Texas, shortly after our engagement and my dad was out of work while the mill went on strike.  I came home from college, never expecting to return.

Several months later, I followed him to El Paso, and we were married by a chaplain on Ft. Bliss.  Thus began out adventures of travel and becoming one as Scripture mandates.  I always wanted to travel and being married to a soldier made travel a high priority.  We went from Ft. Bliss, Texas; to Butzbach, Germany; back to Ft. Bliss; to Ft. Huachuca, Arizona; to New Jersey; to Colorado; to Pennsylvania, back to Ft. Huachuca; to Ft. Shafter, Hawaii; to Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri where he retired from an honorable career with the United States Army.  In between those major moves were several smaller, temporary moves. Even after the army, we had several more.  Many of the families we knew in the service would separate for long periods of time for convenience' sake.  Bob said, "We're family. We go together."  I appreciate that. At times it was highly inconvenient, but it's not easy being both mother and father.  The boys needed their dad and I needed my husband.

I admire my husband for his courage.  Rickets and broken legs weren't the only things he's suffered in his life. In Hawaii, his ulcer perforated.  He continued to work for 8 months with that perforated ulcer now forcing the pancreas to close the open sore, damaging the pancreas in an effort to keep the intestine from spewing its contents into the abdominal cavity.  The doctor who performed the surgery was literally in a state of shock when he came out of surgery.  "I don't know how he stood the pain." I had a few choice words (no swearing) but he understood what I thought of the military doctors who'd mocked him and accused him of malingering. To prove them wrong, Bob continued to work.

In Chicago, he had a ruptured diverticulum.  Again he endured excruciating pain for weeks.  I finally had the opportunity to return to college to finish my degree and he suffered in silence, concerned that he was dying of cancer, but determined to keep me going to school with only school on my mind.  Little did he know! My dad had passed away the previous December and the plan was that I would visit my mother during Spring break.  Fat chance.  By now, he had lost so much weight, he was literally skin and bones.  I cancelled my trip and he had surgery the Monday after Easter.  The doctor again was amazed.  "He should have been popped out like he was 9 months pregnant, able to keep nothing down, and running a sky high temperature, but he had no symptoms."  He also said it would take at least 6 weeks for Bob to be able to return to work. He was back in 3.

Bob's taught me a lot over the years regarding work.  As NCOIC of his department, he'd not be required to be at work until 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning, but he'd be there by 5:30.  All his paper work would be completed without the interruptions he knew would be the order of the day once the rest of the hospital was up and running.  When he was stationed in Ft. Leonard Wood, our home was 30 miles away, meaning he'd have to leave very early in the morning to be at work by 5:30.  Even in Chicago, as a civilian, he'd leave for work at the 100+ year old Cook County Hospital.  Not only was the hospital old, nurses and doctors were as incompetent on machinery as I am.  "There's only one way to put the paper in the machine, but they'd get it in backwards and wonder why the machine didn't work."  He'd often be called out to fix a non-functioning piece of equipment, only to find out it wasn't plugged in.  That's the sort of things he faced all day, so he wanted his paperwork out of the way first.  Staying late was not his thing. He firmly believed in doing the job and going home, even if it meant going to work very early.

His sense of humor has not only kept us laughing, but it's been his way of expressing tenderness.  Men his age aren't supposed to have feelings.  My first pregnancy was difficult.  I was so sick, I lost 20 pounds in the first three months.  Although he hated shopping, he did that particular Sunday that was very rough for me.  It was Mother's Day.  He walked into our tiny apartment, carrying a cake.  "You can only eat 1/3 of it because you're only 1/3 of a mother."

When the priest admonished the bride and groom at their wedding that the Bible says the husband is to be like Christ, Bob whispered, "Big deal.  You get to go home and do dishes for me.  I get to go out and die for you!"

The day he took a 15 mph exit ramp on 2 wheels, he asked me if I was scared.  "Me, too," he said at he patted my let.  When he forgot to set the brakes on the ATV and it headed for the canyon, leaving us stranded in the wilderness, he asked if I'd had my adrenaline fix for the day after we got it stopped before disaster happened.

Bless his heart, he's been with me through thick and thin.  Literally.  Like I said, when he quit smoking, it was over.  Not so for me with food.  He once said he'd love me no matter what I weighed.  I'm grateful for that, but won't stop trying to make him proud of me.  I'm so very proud of him.





 

80!

If others don't get tired of hearing me talking about how quickly time goes, I get tired of saying it.  But, it's true.  My husband will be 80 on Wednesday! Our eldest son and his wife came down from Jacksonville yesterday, took us out to lunch and visited with us for several hours.  My daughter-in-law and I had been planning it for weeks.  It was to be a surprise and it was.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a secret? Especially from him.  He's very astute.

There was arranging for the birthday cake and making a reservation for lunch at Mulligan's, a very popular restaurant on the river.  There were the phone conversations back and forth with my daughter-in-law without Dad knowing.  I couldn't even tell people here at the ranch for fear someone would spill the beans!

We pulled it off.  He was honored that his son would think of him and be willing to drive 3 hours just to spend time with him.  Our daughter-in-law outdid herself with his gift as well.  She'd been begging me to give her ideas for his gift, but I'm as clueless as anyone else on what wouldmake him happy.  She bought him a basket full of junk food!  Cheetos, jumbo cashews, chocolate covered cashews, candy coated cashews, pumpkin flavored candied popcorn, candy corn mixed with raisins and peanuts, and a whole lot more! Guess what we had for supper last night.

My husband of nearly 52 years does not look 80, does not act 80, and doesn't seems to feel 80.  I hope it's not because our vision of 80 is what 80 looked like when we were still impressionable youth.  As a teenager, I thought 25 was old!  I hope we're not fooling ourselves.  A friend remarked that he's still active and that makes a huge difference.

Sheila, our dog, gets a lot of credit for that.  He walks her, plays with her, feeds her, has been to training with her. Then, too, he feeds the cows and polices the grounds which gets him outside and busy doing things that give him a sense of accomplishment.

He amazes himself that he's lived this long.  Born with rickets, his legs had to be broken several times in order to straighten them.  If they hadn't done that, his legs would have continued to bow outward,  making it impossible for him to walk.  At the time, the family lived in Oklahoma.  The university hospital that did the surgeries was hours away from home.  The family was poor.  His aunt and mother would take him to the hospital, drop him off and come back to pick him up 6 weeks later.  He was so young he didn't remember his own mother.  His aunt said he'd call her "The Woman."  His courage as an 18 month old earned him the honor of being the orthopaedic department's poster child.

The fact that he could only dog paddle did not deter him from jumping off railroad trestles into the Neosho River a few year later as a young boy.  Nor did it excuse him from picking cotton as a four year old when the family was forced to become migrant farmers.  Yes, he had a rough growing up, but it turned him into a fine man, the man who asked me to marry him almost 52 years ago.

He became an airplane mechanic and thought he should also be able to pilot those planes he fixed, so he did. In Hawaii, he couldn't wait to become a scuba diver.  At the time, he was a smoker and his first attempt to pass the swim test nearly killed him.  When reminded of it, he'd grumble that was only because he was trying to keep up with his competitive swimmer son who swam rings around him.  He finally managed and it was there in the beautiful waters of Hawaii he first began to truly understand there is a Creator God.  No human could possibly create what he saw, nor could it "just happen."  It was just too magnificent.  He also finally saw the damage cigarettes were doing to his lungs and gave it up.  "Don't buy any more cigarettes for me until I say so," he told me one day in January of 1979.

That's one of the things I so admire about him.  If he says he'll do it, he will.  Oh, that I could do that with food!  Another thing I admire about him is his compassion for children and hurting people.  When the 8 month old daughter of friends died, he was crushed.  He'd prayed for that child from the time we learned of the pregnancy until she died.  At the funeral home, he couldn't approach the casket.  He sat in the corner and cried.

He was escort for a P.O.W. returning from Viet Nam in 1973.  Finances were tight and I'd just gotten a job at Sears and our oldest son had just broken his leg in the bone growth area, meaning he had to stay off it for the entire time the cast was on.  An escort was almost a slave.  He was required to be there when the man got out of bed in the morning, when he went to bed at night, and all times in between. Very wisely, my husband simply incorporated him into our family.  He'd never been to a movie.  I got a woman I worked with to be a blind date for him and we double dated at the movies.  He brought him home for supper.  He'd never done any kind of work around the house.  Bob taught him how to use a lawn mower.  We took him bowling. Anything to bring him up to speed after the 4 1/2 years he'd spent in the Hanoi Hilton.  Without sacrificing his family.

After 52 years, he can still make me laugh.  It may well be the glue that's held our marriage together.  I have a sober, serious nature and it takes effort to make me laugh, but he does it.  My favorite pictures of him are him playing with his children and grand children.  I have such fond memories of our granddaughter sitting on his lap, watching television.  Her eyes would be filled with sleep, her hair tangled and her nightie rumpled, but she'd snuggle up in the recliner with her grandpa and watch cartoons or "The Andy Griffith Show."  What grown man wants to watch cartoons or reruns of "The Andy Griffith Show"?

In spite of the rough start, he's had a good life.  Perhaps even because of it.  He learned to roll with the punches.  He learned to take risks and didn't blame others if they didn't work out.  What a man!  Happy Birthday, man of my dreams!

What's ahead?

This morning's conversation about a news blurb brought to mind the old hymn, "Am I a soldier of the cross, a follower of the Lamb?  And shall I fear to own His cause, or blush to speak His name?"  Verse two has run through my mind the most:  "Must I be carried to the skies On flowery beds of ease, While others fight to win the prize And sail through bloody seas?"

Apparently, the Obama administration is attempting to do something about "terrorism from the right."  Steve Doocy said that would include the religious right.  The other two he mentioned, I can't remember. "Constitutionalists" may have been one of the other two.

My friend said she thought I believed in a pre-tribulation Rapture.  I do.  But, that does NOT mean those who leave this world in the Rapture are going to escape suffering.  Can you imagine the Apostle Paul asking how I suffered while I was on earth and the best I could tell him was that I did not become a best-selling author instantly?  Down through history, people have suffered for the Name of Jesus Christ.  Am I to escape because I'm a law-abiding patriotic American?

That's not to say I look forward to being labeled a terrorist and the accompanying abuse, ridicule, and possible punishment.  I've often said I'm God's weakest and whiniest child.  I do not enjoy suffering.  Hang nails are my idea of major pain.  However, Jesus said not to fret about the future.  IF anything happens in America like it's happening in other places in the world, not to worry.  He will give me the words to say to bring glory to His Name.  That's all I ask.

With all that's going on in the world around us, I personally believe it won't be long now.  Who would have thought 30 years ago that America would turn on Israel?  The Bible says the nations that curse Israel will be cursed.  America's asking for it.

Who would have thought that telling others about the love of Jesus would be considered terrorism?  Apparently, it's coming.

If it comes, and I will be more surprised if it doesn't, I ask that the Lord keep me faithful.  Let me go out with a smile on my face and a song on my lips.  In Islamic countries, Muslims are turning to Jesus Christ in droves. Many are experiencing visions.  Research about those visions are leading them to Christ.

Down through the ages, the suffering church has always been the strongest church, although rarely the largest.  In the 1960's, the Congo was rife with violence, much of it against the church.  A missionary from there said the church was reduced in size by half, but oh, the strength and the faith of that smaller church!

On the other hand, Corrie ten Boom said that as soon as the Nazi boots invaded the Netherlands, the churches were full.  People tend to turn to the Lord in a crisis. Remember Congress on the Capitol steps singing, "God Bless America"? I guess those who are attending church for any reason other than truly worshipping the Lord are those who get scared off when trials and tribulations come.

For all that, I go back to what I've been witnessing lately.  God is working.  His plan is unfolding.  We are seeing more Christian movies produced.  Miracles are happening in the Sudan, in Togo, in parts of the world we don't even know about.  Satan may think he's winning, but he's wrong.

As for me, I want to feel privileged to be in this day and age.  God has a purpose for me and I want to fulfill it.  No matter what it costs me.  He's worth it.

Open Windows

The windows of heaven opened on me this past week, especially today, and blessings have fallen too much to keep to myself.  I have the privilege of being the missionary liaison at our church, which means that I read all the letters and literature that comes in, report any special situations to the pastor and about once a month, inform the congregation of the work God is doing in some place in the world.  That ministry, in of itself, is a tremendous blessing.  It opens my eyes to an entirely new perspective regarding the lives of others. Americans often boast about our country being the greatest in the world. All too often, we forget to thank God for what He has done for our country.

This morning, a missionary from the country of Togo spoke in the morning service.  He is caring for almost 300 children and has only recently been able to install toilets for 300 children!   The pastor asked him about air conditioning in Africa.  Of course, there is none.  I can't imagine living in a country on the equator without air conditioning.  It was hard enough for 9 days in Florida.

Earlier in the week, I had the privilege of listening to a man who is a travels between Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Nicaragua.  The pastor announced that since I had been so wonderfully blessed listening to this missionary, I would soon be giving a report on what I learned!

Yesterday was the flea market where I sell my books and am privileged to meet so many wonderful people, one of whom is the daughter of a woman who has sold many Christian books.  She put me in contact with her mother, who has, in turn, helped me in many ways to seek other avenues to sell future books.  Not only did she like my book, she sent it to her mother, and suggested the possibility that her sister might be willing to do the cover of my next book!

Before the message, there is a time of welcoming where we meet and greet others in the congregation.  A woman approached me and said she wanted me to start a woman's group!  Wow!  Where did that come from?  I would love to do that, but only if that's what the Lord wants me to do.  But, how honored I am that she would ask me.  She said there was too much wisdom among older women in the church that's not be utilized.  She's right, but I'm not the only 70+ woman in that church and she chose me!

It was a delight to see Esther, the missionary's daughter there today.  She's in college in Mississippi and since I hadn't heard from her, I didn't expect to see her there.  But, there she was.  Such a beautiful young woman. I'm honored that she allows me to call her a friend.  How many 20 year olds want to be friends with great-grandmothers?

Today is one of those Sundays that a dinner is served in the dining hall after church.  This happens almost every other Sunday, giving the congregation still more opportunity to bond with each other.  There, I spoke with a dear woman who agreed that she very much wanted to be a part of a woman's group.  On top of that, she knows a pastor of one of the largest churches in a nearby community.  She is trying to open that door so that I can speak to that church!  Again, I'm humbled and amazed.

While she and I were talking, another woman and her daughter approached.  I stepped back, assuming she wanted to speak with my friend, but she informed me she wanted to talk to me.  Her first Sunday at our church after she moved from South Carolina, I spoke about miracles God was working in South Sudan.  She contacted her church in South Carolina and they, too, were blessed to hear what God was doing for men and women who are suffering greatly in that part of the world.

It turns out, her daughter is a budding author who is looking for Christian fiction.  She bought my book! They, too are wanting a woman's group to be started.  When I got home and got online, I was invited to join a group that promotes studying Scripture and applying it to our lives.  An ad on the side was for Christian fiction readers and authors.  Can't wait to tell my new friends about the Website and to loan her my Jan Karon books.

There's an old chorus that's been running through my mind as I've been writing this.
"The Windows of Heaven Are Open
There's blessing that's falling tonight
There's joy, joy, joy in my heart,
Since Jesus made everything right,
I put off my old tattered garments,
He gave me a robe of pure white,
I'm feasting on heavenly manna
And, that's why I'm happy tonight."

Supposedly, D.L. Moody was so overjoyed at all God was doing in his life, he stepped into a Chicago alley knelt and prayed, "Oh God, stay Your hand lest I perish."  I'm beginning to understand what he was talking about. Thank You, Lord.  Your amazing grace is overwhelming.  I can do no more than say, "thanks."

I can, too!

It never ceases to perplex me to know that so many people hate to read. I've lost count of the number of people who've bought my book just for the autograph, but haven't opened the book since they bought it!

I couldn't wait to learn to read.  My mother often said I came home from school the first day, tried to read the comics in the newspaper and was very upset at being unsuccessful.

The time I remember is when I tried to convince my brother that I could read.  I don't think I'd even started school.  The book was called, The Little Lost Puppy. I would have someone one read it to me until I had the first page memorized.  I took the book to my brother who is six years older than me and insisted I could read.  Every time he'd say, "You can't read," I would yell, "I can, too!"  To prove it, I quoted that first page, quite pleased with myself.  Then, he turned the page and said, "OK, Smarty, read this page."  

Busted.

Down, but not out.  Dad loved to read.  He borrowed his mother's books and let me read them.  I was intrigued by the mysteries of Ellery Queen and Miss Jane Marple.  My brother's copies of The Sugar Creek Gang often found their way into my hands, as did anything about Nancy Drew.  Heidi, Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn were favorites that I read repeatedly.  The adventures of Jack London's hero's sent my imagination soaring and Grace Livingston Hill romances made me sigh and dream of the man who would someday sweep me off my feet.  Her heroes were so perfect and so were her heroines.  Sophisticated people claimed Hill's books rotted the brain, but they made a strong impression on me and my friends about the importance of purity before marriage.

But, the books I love the most are missionary biographies.  Since I've been tutoring at Shiloh, I've been reintroduced to them.  Hudson Taylor, D.L. Moody, George Mueller, Brother Andrew, and of course, the five martyrs in Eduador: Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, Roger Youdarian, Pete Fleming, and Ed McCully.  I think I enjoy reading about missionaries most because they humble me.  Not put me down to make themselves feel better.  Their lives are so Christ-like and I know I am no where near their walk with the Lord.  I stumble and fall over and over again.

Who among us today would refuse to fire a gun-even to scare away men determined to hack us to death with machetes?  Who among us today would refuse to ask one single person, or even hint at a financial need when asked, like George Mueller or Brother Andrew?  Today's media devices rule out completely saying good-bye to our mother, knowing we'd never see them again, like Hudson Taylor.  And, who among us would have the audacity to rent the World's Fair tent in Chicago to have evangelistic meetings in the mornings, knowing full well there would be all kinds of entertainment in the afternoon like D.L. Moody did?  

That's what I mean by being humbled.  They don't say an unkind or critical word, they just go about the business God called them to, and they accomplish great things. They inspire me as well as humble me.  I know I have a lot to learn to live as close to the Lord as they were, and I keep trying.

Never thought of it before, but maybe now's the time to say, "I can, too!"