Sometimes I find truth in the most unusual ways. Thursday, I was working with a young student who has a great deal of trouble with comprehension and retention. At Shiloh, boys are required to memorize Scripture, which means a need for retention. Since the school uses the King James Version, sometimes the ability to comprehend is a little difficult, so I try to explain it in modern, age appropriate terminology.
Since I've been attending church, Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, and several Bible colleges all my life, Scripture is easier for me to understand than most of the boys Or is it? Not only am I a lot older, but most of them have had little to no Biblical training. It's often been preached to me the necessity of meditation on Scripture. Yes, I read my Bible daily. Yes, I get a great deal from it. However, working with a young boy who hasn't had my training taught me something new. Well, validated other verses of Scripture is closer to the truth.
The passage the boys had to learn for the month of December was Matthew 1:18-23. Makes sense to learn the passage about the birth of Jesus. How many times have I read that passage, memorized that passage, heard Christmas carols, watched movies about it, or heard it preached? Dozens? Hundreds? Many, many, to be sure.
And yet, as I worked with this boy who was having such difficulty learning that passage that is so familiar to me, I learned something, too. I have long known that Jesus said He is the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Him. (John 14:6) Known it, studied it, believed it, experienced it. It always thrills me to find other passages of Scripture that validates one I've known and believed for many years.
Going back to working with the boys, I would have the young man quote a small phrase over and over again until he knew it. Or so I thought. When I was sure he knew that phrase perfectly, I'd have him quote another phrase until I was confident he knew that one. Then, I'd have him put the two together. That's how I learned two chapters in Romans-word perfect-for a class at Moody when I was 45 years old.
The trouble is, it wasn't working with my charge, so I'd try to explain it in language appropriate for a nine year old. For example, every time he's quote verse 19, he'd leave out the word "not." That's a very important word in that phrase. Joseph was not willing to make Mary a public example. He'd leave it out every time he tried to quote that phrase. That changes the meaning entirely.
But, it was verse 21 that was the eye opener for me. ..."thou shalt call His name JESUS for He shall save HIS people from their sins. Such a little insignificant word that I'd been passing over my entire life. Only HIS people will be saved from their sins. Acts 4:12 says there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved. It gave me the opportunity to share truth with this boy that Jesus is the ONLY way to heaven, the ONLY way to be saved from our sins.
I've just begun Billy Graham's book Where I AM. In it, he quotes Zig Zigler saying the good news is that we can do nothing bad enough to keep us out of heaven. On the other hand the bad news we can do nothing good enough to keep us out of hell. A pastor once said there'd be a lot of surprised people in heaven and and lot of surprised people in hell.
Matthew 1:21 showed me yet again that only those who come to Jesus will be saved from their sins. Only HIS people will be saved. There are many, many other passages that say the same thing, but it was that one little word that affected me so powerfully.
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Friday, December 11, 2015
Our gentle, loving God
I'm so grateful God is loving and gentle when He corrects me. I'm sure He knows how I get my back up when people try to advise me without my asking. They're 99.9% wrong and 100% meddling. On the other hand, the Lord often uses examples from the lives of others to show me I'm no different. Life applications I call it. That's one of the myriad of reasons I wrote my book and have others about ready to go.
I have no right to judge other people and don't appreciate their judging me. However, if I can use stories to prove my point, perhaps they'll understand and "get it."
Yesterday, I told Bob I was giving up the icicle lights I bought 14 years ago and had attempted to put up on the condo porch only a couple of times. His thank you was so sincere and so full of relief, I realized how selfish I was being, asking an 80 year old man to climb a ladder and put up lights strangers driving by could enjoy for a week. (We're going to our son's for Christmas and the lights will be out.) Adding insult to injury, Bob is not really a celebration kind of guy. One of the first things he told me when we were dating is that Christmas was just another day in the week when he was growing up. That statement was so foreign to me, I was just sure he'd be dazzled and change his opinion once he saw how Christmas was really done-my way, of course.
Didn't happen. He's never really complained, but I get the impression he kind of grits his teeth, hoping I'll get done shopping for others before we go completely bankrupt. Childhood abject poverty left deep scars I've so often selfishly ignored. I'm trying to express my love to others and he's paying for it. Not good or right. He hates glitter, so I make the effort to please him by vacuuming every day. There just aren't any decorations in this day and age that don't have glitter. Even Christmas cards glitter.
Spray on snow. Well, that's an absolute no-no. Has been for 47 years. He still mentions it on occasion. (Nagging, I think it's called, but at least he does it in a joking way.) I was pregnant with our second son 47 years ago and pregnancy, for me, was difficult. Spray on snow was cheap-but oh, so hard to get off after Christmas. It took months and Bob growled and groused about it the whole time. He still talks about it when I say something about decorating for Christmas. Lesson learned.
Last night, while I was watching TV, I noticed my vision was a little blurred. It's happened before. Don't know why, but it doesn't usually last long. It made me remember three people and reminded me that I need to make some changes in my diet. I've been gaining and losing weight since I was 13 and would dearly love to get off this ridiculous whatever you want to call it. My daughter-in-law is concerned about my son's health. He's diabetic and recently, his vision began to blur. It scared him and put him back on eating right. Diabetes affects vision and he knows it. I told my daughter-in-law about the man on Facebook who is diabetic.
When he first started posting, he mentioned he was diabetic and the doctor said if he didn't change his ways, he would die. That scared him enough to change his diet. For months, he posted his weight loss and it was phenomenal. Then, a few weeks ago, his post was full of typos. He posted that suddenly his vision was black. Nothing but black. Yep, he's now blind.
I've known about him and his situation for months, but it didn't affect me. Until last night. My blurred vision, my son's blurred vision and the Facebook posting of sudden blindness. It also brought to mind one of our students who's no longer with us. I dearly love that boy, but he was a handful. One of the rules of Shiloh is that a boy behaves, and if he doesn't, he has to leave. This boy had been warned repeatedly. I have to say our culture has changed so dramatically and it's causing our boys to act out in violent ways. He was one of those boys.
In the classroom one day, he was the only one there and he was sobbing violently. The others were in with the pastor. I'd never seen him that boy so emotionally distraught. I've seen boys cry, even caused some of them to cry. (Sometimes, they're afraid they can't do what they need to do to complete the assignment. They'll get teary eyed, expecting me to pity them. I ignore it and we always get the assignment done.) Ever so gently, the Lord reminded me that my yo-yo behavior with food is no different than the boy's being good and bad. I was playing the same game with God. The boy was forced to leave the school and may face military school, especially if again is expelled from public school. That's how we get a lot of our boys. If I continue to binge and diet, I could face diabetes and worse.
If I might digress for a moment, I would love to learn the lesson that intrinsic motivation is so superior to extrinsic. Extrinsic motivation is often from fear and seldom is lasting. Intrinsic motivation, on the other hand, is lasting and isn't from fear. God's Word says perfect love casts out fear. Why can't I understand that God is not trying to scare me into eating properly? He's telling me He loves me so much, He doesn't want me to destroy myself-His creation of love.
Finally, this morning, we were having our typical love fest with our dog Sheila. She loves it when Bob puts her on the bed between us and we lavish love on her and she us. Her little tail beats strong and steady to our petting her. She loves it when we rub her chest. If I stop, she paws me, letting me know to do more. My hand is at an awkward angle and it tires easily. It's reminds me of the boys who complain that typing or writing in cursive tires their hands. Blithely, I tell them they'll get used to it. They're learning something for their good.
So, how does that compute with my dog's demands on my hand and time? It reminds me that I'm giving of myself unselfishly. If you've read my book, you know that love is spelled s-a-c-r-i-f-i-c-e. That's how the Lord showed His love for mankind. He demonstrated His love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
Therefore, Lord, let me learn intrinsic motivation. Let me learn that proper eating is Your expression of love for me. You want me to be healthy. You want me to focus on You-the Lover of my soul. You want me to give up the idol of food. Stay tuned.
I have no right to judge other people and don't appreciate their judging me. However, if I can use stories to prove my point, perhaps they'll understand and "get it."
Yesterday, I told Bob I was giving up the icicle lights I bought 14 years ago and had attempted to put up on the condo porch only a couple of times. His thank you was so sincere and so full of relief, I realized how selfish I was being, asking an 80 year old man to climb a ladder and put up lights strangers driving by could enjoy for a week. (We're going to our son's for Christmas and the lights will be out.) Adding insult to injury, Bob is not really a celebration kind of guy. One of the first things he told me when we were dating is that Christmas was just another day in the week when he was growing up. That statement was so foreign to me, I was just sure he'd be dazzled and change his opinion once he saw how Christmas was really done-my way, of course.
Didn't happen. He's never really complained, but I get the impression he kind of grits his teeth, hoping I'll get done shopping for others before we go completely bankrupt. Childhood abject poverty left deep scars I've so often selfishly ignored. I'm trying to express my love to others and he's paying for it. Not good or right. He hates glitter, so I make the effort to please him by vacuuming every day. There just aren't any decorations in this day and age that don't have glitter. Even Christmas cards glitter.
Spray on snow. Well, that's an absolute no-no. Has been for 47 years. He still mentions it on occasion. (Nagging, I think it's called, but at least he does it in a joking way.) I was pregnant with our second son 47 years ago and pregnancy, for me, was difficult. Spray on snow was cheap-but oh, so hard to get off after Christmas. It took months and Bob growled and groused about it the whole time. He still talks about it when I say something about decorating for Christmas. Lesson learned.
Last night, while I was watching TV, I noticed my vision was a little blurred. It's happened before. Don't know why, but it doesn't usually last long. It made me remember three people and reminded me that I need to make some changes in my diet. I've been gaining and losing weight since I was 13 and would dearly love to get off this ridiculous whatever you want to call it. My daughter-in-law is concerned about my son's health. He's diabetic and recently, his vision began to blur. It scared him and put him back on eating right. Diabetes affects vision and he knows it. I told my daughter-in-law about the man on Facebook who is diabetic.
When he first started posting, he mentioned he was diabetic and the doctor said if he didn't change his ways, he would die. That scared him enough to change his diet. For months, he posted his weight loss and it was phenomenal. Then, a few weeks ago, his post was full of typos. He posted that suddenly his vision was black. Nothing but black. Yep, he's now blind.
I've known about him and his situation for months, but it didn't affect me. Until last night. My blurred vision, my son's blurred vision and the Facebook posting of sudden blindness. It also brought to mind one of our students who's no longer with us. I dearly love that boy, but he was a handful. One of the rules of Shiloh is that a boy behaves, and if he doesn't, he has to leave. This boy had been warned repeatedly. I have to say our culture has changed so dramatically and it's causing our boys to act out in violent ways. He was one of those boys.
In the classroom one day, he was the only one there and he was sobbing violently. The others were in with the pastor. I'd never seen him that boy so emotionally distraught. I've seen boys cry, even caused some of them to cry. (Sometimes, they're afraid they can't do what they need to do to complete the assignment. They'll get teary eyed, expecting me to pity them. I ignore it and we always get the assignment done.) Ever so gently, the Lord reminded me that my yo-yo behavior with food is no different than the boy's being good and bad. I was playing the same game with God. The boy was forced to leave the school and may face military school, especially if again is expelled from public school. That's how we get a lot of our boys. If I continue to binge and diet, I could face diabetes and worse.
If I might digress for a moment, I would love to learn the lesson that intrinsic motivation is so superior to extrinsic. Extrinsic motivation is often from fear and seldom is lasting. Intrinsic motivation, on the other hand, is lasting and isn't from fear. God's Word says perfect love casts out fear. Why can't I understand that God is not trying to scare me into eating properly? He's telling me He loves me so much, He doesn't want me to destroy myself-His creation of love.
Finally, this morning, we were having our typical love fest with our dog Sheila. She loves it when Bob puts her on the bed between us and we lavish love on her and she us. Her little tail beats strong and steady to our petting her. She loves it when we rub her chest. If I stop, she paws me, letting me know to do more. My hand is at an awkward angle and it tires easily. It's reminds me of the boys who complain that typing or writing in cursive tires their hands. Blithely, I tell them they'll get used to it. They're learning something for their good.
So, how does that compute with my dog's demands on my hand and time? It reminds me that I'm giving of myself unselfishly. If you've read my book, you know that love is spelled s-a-c-r-i-f-i-c-e. That's how the Lord showed His love for mankind. He demonstrated His love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
Therefore, Lord, let me learn intrinsic motivation. Let me learn that proper eating is Your expression of love for me. You want me to be healthy. You want me to focus on You-the Lover of my soul. You want me to give up the idol of food. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Christmas Angel
Bob and I will celebrate our 52nd wedding anniversary on the 23rd of this month. The Christmas angel that topped our tree is 50 this year. Why is that significant? I'm getting to it. The first Christmas we were married, we spent with Bob's parents. Yes, I spent my honeymoon with my in-laws! They worked and both retired early when they came home from work, so we really had the place to ourselves. Anyway, no Christmas decorations were needed.
The next year, Bob was in Germany, and I was at home with my parents, waiting for orders so our son and I could join him. No decorations for the tree needed that year, either.
Therefore, the first tree we decorated as a family is while we were in Germany. Just about all the decorations were German in nature. Mushrooms with red caps, dotted in white. They do those for good luck. They also light real candles on the tree on Christmas Eve, but we never had that kind of nerve. We bought all the decorations and lights we could afford. For the rest of the tree, we covered it in box after box of icicles. Remember those days? Almost all of those decorations and lights are gone now. Traveling is hard on anything, especially if it's of a delicate nature, like glass ornaments.
We do, however, have one ornament left from Germany. You guessed it. The Christmas angel on the top of the tree. She's almost like a miracle angel. Like I said, ornaments don't survive moves very well. The miracle of her is not only did she survive the move from Muschenheim to Butzbach, but she made it to Ft. Bliss, Texas. Van Horn Park to Leslie Ross Road. Not one, but two moves on Ft. Bliss. Then, it was off to Ft. Huachuca, Arizona.
Probably one reason I think of the angel as a miracle is that I took up ceramics in Ft. Huachuca. Unpacking after the move from there to New Jersey found my angel at the bottom of the box that contained about twodozen jars of ceramic paint! She was unharmed! Then, it was Aurora, Colorado. The driver got drunk and lost the truck on that move. When I told them a very beat up rocking chair was not mine, one man said, "It is now!"
A year later, we were on our way to Pottstown, Pa. Ten months later, we were on our way back to Ft. Huachuca. That move was especially rough. I complained repeatedly that the movers left things they promised faithfully to come back and get. When they finally decided I was married to some big wig colonel and would get them in trouble if they didn't come get the things that wouldn't fit on the truck, they sent two fellows who finally came out of a local bar with a bag of peanuts and a strange sense of humor. Complaints of broken items were met with ridicule. I told the office that I would never use them again. If they came to my door, I would meet them with a broom. The official took me seriously and made other arrangements.
The move to San Antonio was short and the furnishings were left in storage until the move to Honolulu. We had to separate our things into two different shipments on that one because, at that time, the military furnished our units. Hence, what things they didn't furnish, such as Christmas ornaments, were shipped and everything else stayed in Arizona.
Four years later, we were on our way to Rolla, Missouri for Bob's final year in the military and almost 6 years as a civilian before he took a new job and we moved to Dalton, Georgia. Things didn't work out job wise, and Bob was transferred to Smithville, Tennessee.
It was there the real reason I consider the angel a miracle came to light. By now, her silk skirt was looking a little bedraggled, as did her foil underskirt and puffy sleeves. The florist happened to know someone in town who refurbished dolls. When I handed him the angel, he took her in his hands as gently as if she were a new born baby. I was amazed at the way he handled her. But it was his comment that bowled me over. "She's wax."
WAX!!! She had been halfway around the world on several occasions and even ended up under 20+ jars of ceramic paint and she hadn't a scratch or break on her! The first thing I did was buy a glass dome to put her under and make every attempt to keep her safer than she'd been before.
Four more moves brought another severe test for her. In 2004, we endured three hurricanes in as many weeks. Frances, Ivan, and Jeanne. We were without power for nine days after Frances hit. There she stood on the counter in her glass dome, braving heat and humidity with nary a breeze and nary a melt! Ivan was mostly rain, but Jeanne was the worst as far as wind. We only lost power four days with Jeanne, but again, no electricity and no melting.
I've received or purchased several other angels over the past 50 years, but she's truly my miracle Christmas angel.
The next year, Bob was in Germany, and I was at home with my parents, waiting for orders so our son and I could join him. No decorations for the tree needed that year, either.
Therefore, the first tree we decorated as a family is while we were in Germany. Just about all the decorations were German in nature. Mushrooms with red caps, dotted in white. They do those for good luck. They also light real candles on the tree on Christmas Eve, but we never had that kind of nerve. We bought all the decorations and lights we could afford. For the rest of the tree, we covered it in box after box of icicles. Remember those days? Almost all of those decorations and lights are gone now. Traveling is hard on anything, especially if it's of a delicate nature, like glass ornaments.
We do, however, have one ornament left from Germany. You guessed it. The Christmas angel on the top of the tree. She's almost like a miracle angel. Like I said, ornaments don't survive moves very well. The miracle of her is not only did she survive the move from Muschenheim to Butzbach, but she made it to Ft. Bliss, Texas. Van Horn Park to Leslie Ross Road. Not one, but two moves on Ft. Bliss. Then, it was off to Ft. Huachuca, Arizona.
Probably one reason I think of the angel as a miracle is that I took up ceramics in Ft. Huachuca. Unpacking after the move from there to New Jersey found my angel at the bottom of the box that contained about twodozen jars of ceramic paint! She was unharmed! Then, it was Aurora, Colorado. The driver got drunk and lost the truck on that move. When I told them a very beat up rocking chair was not mine, one man said, "It is now!"
A year later, we were on our way to Pottstown, Pa. Ten months later, we were on our way back to Ft. Huachuca. That move was especially rough. I complained repeatedly that the movers left things they promised faithfully to come back and get. When they finally decided I was married to some big wig colonel and would get them in trouble if they didn't come get the things that wouldn't fit on the truck, they sent two fellows who finally came out of a local bar with a bag of peanuts and a strange sense of humor. Complaints of broken items were met with ridicule. I told the office that I would never use them again. If they came to my door, I would meet them with a broom. The official took me seriously and made other arrangements.
The move to San Antonio was short and the furnishings were left in storage until the move to Honolulu. We had to separate our things into two different shipments on that one because, at that time, the military furnished our units. Hence, what things they didn't furnish, such as Christmas ornaments, were shipped and everything else stayed in Arizona.
Four years later, we were on our way to Rolla, Missouri for Bob's final year in the military and almost 6 years as a civilian before he took a new job and we moved to Dalton, Georgia. Things didn't work out job wise, and Bob was transferred to Smithville, Tennessee.
It was there the real reason I consider the angel a miracle came to light. By now, her silk skirt was looking a little bedraggled, as did her foil underskirt and puffy sleeves. The florist happened to know someone in town who refurbished dolls. When I handed him the angel, he took her in his hands as gently as if she were a new born baby. I was amazed at the way he handled her. But it was his comment that bowled me over. "She's wax."
WAX!!! She had been halfway around the world on several occasions and even ended up under 20+ jars of ceramic paint and she hadn't a scratch or break on her! The first thing I did was buy a glass dome to put her under and make every attempt to keep her safer than she'd been before.
Four more moves brought another severe test for her. In 2004, we endured three hurricanes in as many weeks. Frances, Ivan, and Jeanne. We were without power for nine days after Frances hit. There she stood on the counter in her glass dome, braving heat and humidity with nary a breeze and nary a melt! Ivan was mostly rain, but Jeanne was the worst as far as wind. We only lost power four days with Jeanne, but again, no electricity and no melting.
I've received or purchased several other angels over the past 50 years, but she's truly my miracle Christmas angel.
Monday, December 7, 2015
America's Team
I watched most of the Steeler's game last night and felt like they were at last showing the gumption they've been know for. To tell you the truth, I haven't watched them much since Terry Bradshaw left in 81 or 82. Watching the game brought back a lot of memories and made some new ones as well.
We were in San Antonio one year when they played and beat Dallas in the Super Bowl. Several of my co-workers wanted me to bet. I refused, saying God wouldn't let me bet and if I did, the Steeler's would lose. At that time, Dallas was known and "America's team." That rankled a little. I believed then and do even more so now that Pittsburgh is America's Team. More about that in a bit.
The second time Pittsburgh played Dallas in the Super Bowl, we were living in Honolulu. Due to the time change, the game came on during our church service. Some of the chaplain's assistants would slip out during church, run across the street and ask someone what the score was. They'd return with the information and whisper it to someone sitting in the back pew. The news would spread like wildfire through the church. Chaplain Schaffer was so upset, as he shook hands with everyone leaving the chapel that day, he'd mutter something about the Dallas Steelers and the Pittsburgh Cowboys. Pittsburgh won that day, too.
Still, Dallas was known as America's Team. Roger Stabaugh (sp?) was the quarterback and well respected. He was a graduate of the Naval Academy before he played football, but whether he actually served in combat is unknown. However, Pittsburgh has at least two team members who served. Rocky Bliar served during Viet Nam and was so seriously wounded, he was told he'd never walk again. Not only did he walk again, he came all the way back to play for the Steelers. I remember after he retired, his replacement allowed Bradshaw to be sacked. Bradshaw was one unhappy camper. I can sometimes read lips and what Bradshaw said to the guy was not something I would repeat. The announcers said that Rocky would NEVER have allowed that to happen.
In Rolla, Missouri, we had a member of our church that was trying out for another pro team. He told us that everyone who made the team had to go through the whole process every year. No one automatically returned. The young rookies who were hungry would do their best to replace the vets. Rocky had to fight his way through that, even as a wounded vet and he did it. My hat's off to him.
I remember when we were moving from Arizona to New Jersey. Two station wagons full of screaming men and waving signs passed us somewhere in Ohio between Columbus and Zanesville. I couldn't believe it. They were saying the Steelers won! I told Bob the Steelers hadn't won since Washington was President. When we arrived home, the first thing I did was ask Mom about it. She assured me the Steelers were winners, with two quarterbacks, both named Terry. Terry Hanratty didn't stay much longer, but Bradshaw did and guided them to 4 Super Bowls.
Now, we live in Florida and I'm amazed at the number of Steeler fans. We have so many neighbors from Long Island, New York, I've often joked that we live in Southern New York. There's not nearly as many fans for any other team as there are the Steelers. One reason I say they're America's Team.
Then, last night, I learned there is another combat veteran on the team. Villeneau (sp?) That's another reason why I say the Steeler's are America's Team. Pittsburgh is an old city that has seen a melting pot of ownership. Indian names are prominent throughout the area, as are French names. The French owned the area before the English. Many people came from Europe and worked the coal mines and steel mills, meaning there are areas that are German, Jewish, Italian, Eastern European, and many others. But, it's the fact that this blue collar city has reared it's children to love their country enough to serve it in times of war that makes me so proud of my heritage and the Steeler's.
It's Christmas time and the catalogs are coming thick and fast. Without exception, every one that sells pro football memorabilia, uses the Steelers as their examples of what's for sale. They're America's Team all right.
Last night, they did their fans proud. They played brilliantly. And they had fun. Who will ever forget the fellow trying to "stick" the ball to the goalpost and scaring the guard half out of her wits when he grabbed her jacket before falling to the ground? He was all twinkling eyes and huge grin. Good for him. I'm only sorry I was flipping channels when ads came on and didn't get to see him to his full punt return to touchdown. I've never seen one and missed it last night. I just caught the last 10 yards.
Will they be able to earn a wild card spot? Who knows? Even if they don't, they're still great. Of course, when I'm around my granddaughter, I have to be careful what I say. She's a Jaguars fan. Good for her. She's lived most of her life in Jacksonville and has every reason to be loyal to her team. But, as many moves as we've made, it's still the Steelers for me.
We were in San Antonio one year when they played and beat Dallas in the Super Bowl. Several of my co-workers wanted me to bet. I refused, saying God wouldn't let me bet and if I did, the Steeler's would lose. At that time, Dallas was known and "America's team." That rankled a little. I believed then and do even more so now that Pittsburgh is America's Team. More about that in a bit.
The second time Pittsburgh played Dallas in the Super Bowl, we were living in Honolulu. Due to the time change, the game came on during our church service. Some of the chaplain's assistants would slip out during church, run across the street and ask someone what the score was. They'd return with the information and whisper it to someone sitting in the back pew. The news would spread like wildfire through the church. Chaplain Schaffer was so upset, as he shook hands with everyone leaving the chapel that day, he'd mutter something about the Dallas Steelers and the Pittsburgh Cowboys. Pittsburgh won that day, too.
Still, Dallas was known as America's Team. Roger Stabaugh (sp?) was the quarterback and well respected. He was a graduate of the Naval Academy before he played football, but whether he actually served in combat is unknown. However, Pittsburgh has at least two team members who served. Rocky Bliar served during Viet Nam and was so seriously wounded, he was told he'd never walk again. Not only did he walk again, he came all the way back to play for the Steelers. I remember after he retired, his replacement allowed Bradshaw to be sacked. Bradshaw was one unhappy camper. I can sometimes read lips and what Bradshaw said to the guy was not something I would repeat. The announcers said that Rocky would NEVER have allowed that to happen.
In Rolla, Missouri, we had a member of our church that was trying out for another pro team. He told us that everyone who made the team had to go through the whole process every year. No one automatically returned. The young rookies who were hungry would do their best to replace the vets. Rocky had to fight his way through that, even as a wounded vet and he did it. My hat's off to him.
I remember when we were moving from Arizona to New Jersey. Two station wagons full of screaming men and waving signs passed us somewhere in Ohio between Columbus and Zanesville. I couldn't believe it. They were saying the Steelers won! I told Bob the Steelers hadn't won since Washington was President. When we arrived home, the first thing I did was ask Mom about it. She assured me the Steelers were winners, with two quarterbacks, both named Terry. Terry Hanratty didn't stay much longer, but Bradshaw did and guided them to 4 Super Bowls.
Now, we live in Florida and I'm amazed at the number of Steeler fans. We have so many neighbors from Long Island, New York, I've often joked that we live in Southern New York. There's not nearly as many fans for any other team as there are the Steelers. One reason I say they're America's Team.
Then, last night, I learned there is another combat veteran on the team. Villeneau (sp?) That's another reason why I say the Steeler's are America's Team. Pittsburgh is an old city that has seen a melting pot of ownership. Indian names are prominent throughout the area, as are French names. The French owned the area before the English. Many people came from Europe and worked the coal mines and steel mills, meaning there are areas that are German, Jewish, Italian, Eastern European, and many others. But, it's the fact that this blue collar city has reared it's children to love their country enough to serve it in times of war that makes me so proud of my heritage and the Steeler's.
It's Christmas time and the catalogs are coming thick and fast. Without exception, every one that sells pro football memorabilia, uses the Steelers as their examples of what's for sale. They're America's Team all right.
Last night, they did their fans proud. They played brilliantly. And they had fun. Who will ever forget the fellow trying to "stick" the ball to the goalpost and scaring the guard half out of her wits when he grabbed her jacket before falling to the ground? He was all twinkling eyes and huge grin. Good for him. I'm only sorry I was flipping channels when ads came on and didn't get to see him to his full punt return to touchdown. I've never seen one and missed it last night. I just caught the last 10 yards.
Will they be able to earn a wild card spot? Who knows? Even if they don't, they're still great. Of course, when I'm around my granddaughter, I have to be careful what I say. She's a Jaguars fan. Good for her. She's lived most of her life in Jacksonville and has every reason to be loyal to her team. But, as many moves as we've made, it's still the Steelers for me.
Friday, December 4, 2015
Precious Memory
In chapel ysterday morning, we watched more of a video about the children of WWII vets. One son took his son to Iwo Jima to help the boy understand the sacrifice his grandfather made on his behalf.
It brought back a memory of my own. He was my great uncle, but he reared my mother as his own daughter because my grandmother died when Mom was seven years old. If you've read my book, you'll see the story in there. No, I was not being imaginative, it actually happened.
We called him "Pop." It's gratifying to have such a wonderful memory of a man who believed deeply in God and who lived his life to honor God. My granddaughter seems to long for the times I grew up in. Her comparison with today's world always leaves her longing for more honest times. Those days were more honest, more simple, more trustworthy, more noble.....you get the picture. I just wish there were some way my granddaughter could do more than long for days like that.
On the day I remember so vividly, it's like it happened yesterday. My cousin and I were playing some game when we come into the dining room and spotted Pop at his usual spot, kneeling in front of his rocking chair, praying. How that man prayed. Even though I was only nine and my cousin four, I still remember how he would sit in the rocker and read his Bible in a hoarse whisper. Then, he'd kneel in front of his rocker and pray in that same hoarse whisper. No matter what activity swirled throughout the rest of that large, old farmhouse, Pop would read his Bible and pray first thing every morning. I firmly believe that's why I grew up in a sweeter, simpler, nobler, safer, more honest, more trustworthy time. I seriously doubt Pop was the only man in America praying like that.
Hey, New York newspaper, maybe God isn't fixing this because America has stopped praying. Or as James says, maybe we Americans are praying for the wrong things and the wrong reasons. Do a paradigm shift in your thinking. Couldn't hurt and it might help. But, I digress.
Often, Pop would lift his hand and face toward heaven as he prayed, emphasizing his adoration or supplication. Whichever it was, I do not know. When Pop prayed, we left him alone to be with the Lord as a matter of respect.
Except my four year old cousin, Pop's only grandson. That mischievous four year old turned to me and said, "Let's get a horsey ride on Grandpa!"
"No! He's praying!" was my horrified response.
"He won't care. I do it all the time," came his reply as he left me to watch in shock. He hopped his grandpa's back, riding him with all the glee and fervor only a rambunctious four old could muster.
Pop never acknowledges his grandson in anyway. He continued to pray with a fervor that matched his grandson's. He was no different that any other day I witnessed his time of prayer. My cousin actually tired before Pop did. We trailed off to other adventures while Pop remained on his knees. Thanks, Pop you taught me a lot.
It brought back a memory of my own. He was my great uncle, but he reared my mother as his own daughter because my grandmother died when Mom was seven years old. If you've read my book, you'll see the story in there. No, I was not being imaginative, it actually happened.
We called him "Pop." It's gratifying to have such a wonderful memory of a man who believed deeply in God and who lived his life to honor God. My granddaughter seems to long for the times I grew up in. Her comparison with today's world always leaves her longing for more honest times. Those days were more honest, more simple, more trustworthy, more noble.....you get the picture. I just wish there were some way my granddaughter could do more than long for days like that.
On the day I remember so vividly, it's like it happened yesterday. My cousin and I were playing some game when we come into the dining room and spotted Pop at his usual spot, kneeling in front of his rocking chair, praying. How that man prayed. Even though I was only nine and my cousin four, I still remember how he would sit in the rocker and read his Bible in a hoarse whisper. Then, he'd kneel in front of his rocker and pray in that same hoarse whisper. No matter what activity swirled throughout the rest of that large, old farmhouse, Pop would read his Bible and pray first thing every morning. I firmly believe that's why I grew up in a sweeter, simpler, nobler, safer, more honest, more trustworthy time. I seriously doubt Pop was the only man in America praying like that.
Hey, New York newspaper, maybe God isn't fixing this because America has stopped praying. Or as James says, maybe we Americans are praying for the wrong things and the wrong reasons. Do a paradigm shift in your thinking. Couldn't hurt and it might help. But, I digress.
Often, Pop would lift his hand and face toward heaven as he prayed, emphasizing his adoration or supplication. Whichever it was, I do not know. When Pop prayed, we left him alone to be with the Lord as a matter of respect.
Except my four year old cousin, Pop's only grandson. That mischievous four year old turned to me and said, "Let's get a horsey ride on Grandpa!"
"No! He's praying!" was my horrified response.
"He won't care. I do it all the time," came his reply as he left me to watch in shock. He hopped his grandpa's back, riding him with all the glee and fervor only a rambunctious four old could muster.
Pop never acknowledges his grandson in anyway. He continued to pray with a fervor that matched his grandson's. He was no different that any other day I witnessed his time of prayer. My cousin actually tired before Pop did. We trailed off to other adventures while Pop remained on his knees. Thanks, Pop you taught me a lot.
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Why?
My friend and I were discussing the state of the world the other day-again. It's either that or moan about our weight gain. We were discussing the Muslim terrorists. It's disturbing to know they're out there and we don't know who they are, where they are, or when they'll strike.
Thankfully, letters from missionaries do far more than warn about the dangers of extremists-from any belief system. In the Middle East, Muslims are turning to Jesus Christ in droves. My friend mentioned that in America, so many are turning away from the church and turning to Islam. She was wondering why.
I may have found the answer in a biography of Brother Andrew. Most of the boys' essays at school are based on biographies of missionaries. Each year, I get to reread many of those biographies in order to be sure the boys are accurate in what they write. Far, far above and beyond that, I am blessed and humbled by reading about the men and women who have suffered so much to carry the Gospel of Jesus Christ to a lost and dying world.
Brother Andrew is one of those biographies. The man is amazing. In his 80's, he climbs a mountain every night and throws Bibles across the border into a country where he probably is no longer welcome. He started smuggling Bibles into communist countries in 1955. He had no backing, no agency, he just wen, asking God to blind the eyes of the border guards to his literature and Bibles. Wherever he went, he would start his message by saying he was bringing greetings from fellow Christians in the Netherlands, the country of his birth.
Those words were always a comfort to the people hearing that there were believers in the free world who were praying for them and cared about them. As communism fell, the smuggling was no longer necessary in some countries, but his ministry still grew exponentially. Even though it's no longer necessary to smuggle Bible into some of those counties like he did 50 years ago, there are needy people who would do anything to get their hands on a Bible. Each country he worked in eventually had tremendous changes, most for the best. In fact, I firmly believe those droves of new Christians in the Middle East are the payoff for the Bibles he smuggled into those countries 15-20 years ago. Unless you're plugged into missions, you may not realize how God is working in spite of what the media tells you about the horrors going on in the world.
Even the Middle East. It was Brother Andrew's words about Islam that got my attention this morning and is the reason for today's subject. "'There is a lot to admire in Islam,"' he says. "'You have to pay attention to a religion with this kind of draw."' Part of its appeal, he explains, is the close community support it offers. It claims to be the answer to economic and social problems.[He didn't say it was, he said it claims.] It emphasizes wholesome living, drug-free, alcohol-free, prayer centered communities that hold up the father as the responsible head of that family.
Those are the very standards America upheld until a few decades ago. When we were an agrarian society, families had no choice but to work together. Donald Trump's children say that's one reason they're close to their dad. For decades, men have been ignored, challenged, mocked, ridiculed, and especially in the black community, have just plain checked out. Just this morning there was an ad, suggesting men be good fathers. How I praise God for that ad!
We're also a mobile society today. Grandma often lives hundreds, maybe thousands of miles away. True, we have social media that makes connections possible anytime, anywhere, but it's not the same. Grandma can't see children's behavior and warn them about the danger they're in. Psychologists are now saying social media is causing all sorts of difficulties. Even my granddaughter complained that you can't get that close connection in social media like you can face to face. When I was growing up, lawsuits were non-existent. In fact, if a kid did something wrong, the neighbor who saw it was thanked for correcting the matter post haste. America is paying for it's departure from close community support in ways it never dreamed.
Economically, my high school teachers often talked about the rise and fall of communism being directly related to economics. As long as America was sound economically, communism couldn't really get a strong following. And it's strongest following occurred during the 1930's-the Depression. Maybe that's why Islam has such a strong following today. People are hurting financially and looking for answers. I'm not saying Islam has it, but they claim it and some people don't dig too deep.
The insistence of taking pleasure in things that are detrimental to our health is bound to catch up with us one of these days. I would venture to guess that many more people die from alcohol related accidents or drug overdoses than we're losing men and women in our armed forces. If drugs are such a wonderful pleasure, why are our suicide rate so high among teenagers? If indiscriminate sex is so much fun, why do 15 year olds have to get drunk to "enjoy" it?
The lack of prayer indicates a lack of belief in a power greater than self. America loves to tout "I can do anything I want so long as I believe in myself." Really? If that were the case, I doubt I'd have allowed our condo to be destroyed in Hurricane Frances. The engine wouldn't have blown one week after we had it rebuilt and the day after I had finally paid off the VISA bill. We'd have a lot more doctors, lawyers, movie stars and rock stars if all that was required was to work hard and believe in ourselves. I'd be a best-selling author by now! Not every dream comes true, so why put all my faith in me and my dreams? There is a Higher Power. His Name is God, the I AM, Jesus Christ, Creator, Sustainer, Savior, Sanctifier, Healer, Coming King, Prince of Peace, Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, Emmanuel, Lover of my soul. You get my drift.
Finally, and it's a biggie. Fathers are considered the responsible head of the family. Kids in America learn early that they have to fend for themselves. Some manage. Most don't. Instead, they turn to their peers, to drugs, to big names who have more problems than the kids do.
If Islam is so great, why be upset that it's growing? Brother Andrew tells people he's not against anything. He's for Jesus Christ. American Christians and churches could learn a lot from him. Opposing Islam is not working. We need to become a missionary nation like we were right after WWII. We were the greatest nation in the world. Why? Because we were telling the world about Jesus Christ. His love for us is the greatest message in the world, bar none. Jesus told us to love our enemies. The missionary letters I read from persecuted brothers and sisters in Christ in other nations all say they don't hate their persecutors, they love them and forgive them. Maybe it's time we stopped patting ourselves on the back and start taking some lessons from those who are succeeding where we are failing.
Having said all that, I am NOT promoting Islam. Even if it were a wonderful as it claims in just those 4 areas, Jesus said He was the way, the truth, and the life. NO ONE comes to the Father, EXCEPT by Him. Therein lies the difference between all religions and true Christianity. The life here on earth may be ideal, but what about eternity?
It is disappointing that Muslims who are not extremists are not doing anything to stop the takeover of their religion. I would imagine it's fear. Just like it's fear when someone is convinced they need to follow the dictates of a denomination or spiritual leader instead of the Lord. Jesus said to love our enemies. The Bible says perfect love casts out fear. I preach because I love.
Thankfully, letters from missionaries do far more than warn about the dangers of extremists-from any belief system. In the Middle East, Muslims are turning to Jesus Christ in droves. My friend mentioned that in America, so many are turning away from the church and turning to Islam. She was wondering why.
I may have found the answer in a biography of Brother Andrew. Most of the boys' essays at school are based on biographies of missionaries. Each year, I get to reread many of those biographies in order to be sure the boys are accurate in what they write. Far, far above and beyond that, I am blessed and humbled by reading about the men and women who have suffered so much to carry the Gospel of Jesus Christ to a lost and dying world.
Brother Andrew is one of those biographies. The man is amazing. In his 80's, he climbs a mountain every night and throws Bibles across the border into a country where he probably is no longer welcome. He started smuggling Bibles into communist countries in 1955. He had no backing, no agency, he just wen, asking God to blind the eyes of the border guards to his literature and Bibles. Wherever he went, he would start his message by saying he was bringing greetings from fellow Christians in the Netherlands, the country of his birth.
Those words were always a comfort to the people hearing that there were believers in the free world who were praying for them and cared about them. As communism fell, the smuggling was no longer necessary in some countries, but his ministry still grew exponentially. Even though it's no longer necessary to smuggle Bible into some of those counties like he did 50 years ago, there are needy people who would do anything to get their hands on a Bible. Each country he worked in eventually had tremendous changes, most for the best. In fact, I firmly believe those droves of new Christians in the Middle East are the payoff for the Bibles he smuggled into those countries 15-20 years ago. Unless you're plugged into missions, you may not realize how God is working in spite of what the media tells you about the horrors going on in the world.
Even the Middle East. It was Brother Andrew's words about Islam that got my attention this morning and is the reason for today's subject. "'There is a lot to admire in Islam,"' he says. "'You have to pay attention to a religion with this kind of draw."' Part of its appeal, he explains, is the close community support it offers. It claims to be the answer to economic and social problems.[He didn't say it was, he said it claims.] It emphasizes wholesome living, drug-free, alcohol-free, prayer centered communities that hold up the father as the responsible head of that family.
Those are the very standards America upheld until a few decades ago. When we were an agrarian society, families had no choice but to work together. Donald Trump's children say that's one reason they're close to their dad. For decades, men have been ignored, challenged, mocked, ridiculed, and especially in the black community, have just plain checked out. Just this morning there was an ad, suggesting men be good fathers. How I praise God for that ad!
We're also a mobile society today. Grandma often lives hundreds, maybe thousands of miles away. True, we have social media that makes connections possible anytime, anywhere, but it's not the same. Grandma can't see children's behavior and warn them about the danger they're in. Psychologists are now saying social media is causing all sorts of difficulties. Even my granddaughter complained that you can't get that close connection in social media like you can face to face. When I was growing up, lawsuits were non-existent. In fact, if a kid did something wrong, the neighbor who saw it was thanked for correcting the matter post haste. America is paying for it's departure from close community support in ways it never dreamed.
Economically, my high school teachers often talked about the rise and fall of communism being directly related to economics. As long as America was sound economically, communism couldn't really get a strong following. And it's strongest following occurred during the 1930's-the Depression. Maybe that's why Islam has such a strong following today. People are hurting financially and looking for answers. I'm not saying Islam has it, but they claim it and some people don't dig too deep.
The insistence of taking pleasure in things that are detrimental to our health is bound to catch up with us one of these days. I would venture to guess that many more people die from alcohol related accidents or drug overdoses than we're losing men and women in our armed forces. If drugs are such a wonderful pleasure, why are our suicide rate so high among teenagers? If indiscriminate sex is so much fun, why do 15 year olds have to get drunk to "enjoy" it?
The lack of prayer indicates a lack of belief in a power greater than self. America loves to tout "I can do anything I want so long as I believe in myself." Really? If that were the case, I doubt I'd have allowed our condo to be destroyed in Hurricane Frances. The engine wouldn't have blown one week after we had it rebuilt and the day after I had finally paid off the VISA bill. We'd have a lot more doctors, lawyers, movie stars and rock stars if all that was required was to work hard and believe in ourselves. I'd be a best-selling author by now! Not every dream comes true, so why put all my faith in me and my dreams? There is a Higher Power. His Name is God, the I AM, Jesus Christ, Creator, Sustainer, Savior, Sanctifier, Healer, Coming King, Prince of Peace, Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, Emmanuel, Lover of my soul. You get my drift.
Finally, and it's a biggie. Fathers are considered the responsible head of the family. Kids in America learn early that they have to fend for themselves. Some manage. Most don't. Instead, they turn to their peers, to drugs, to big names who have more problems than the kids do.
If Islam is so great, why be upset that it's growing? Brother Andrew tells people he's not against anything. He's for Jesus Christ. American Christians and churches could learn a lot from him. Opposing Islam is not working. We need to become a missionary nation like we were right after WWII. We were the greatest nation in the world. Why? Because we were telling the world about Jesus Christ. His love for us is the greatest message in the world, bar none. Jesus told us to love our enemies. The missionary letters I read from persecuted brothers and sisters in Christ in other nations all say they don't hate their persecutors, they love them and forgive them. Maybe it's time we stopped patting ourselves on the back and start taking some lessons from those who are succeeding where we are failing.
Having said all that, I am NOT promoting Islam. Even if it were a wonderful as it claims in just those 4 areas, Jesus said He was the way, the truth, and the life. NO ONE comes to the Father, EXCEPT by Him. Therein lies the difference between all religions and true Christianity. The life here on earth may be ideal, but what about eternity?
It is disappointing that Muslims who are not extremists are not doing anything to stop the takeover of their religion. I would imagine it's fear. Just like it's fear when someone is convinced they need to follow the dictates of a denomination or spiritual leader instead of the Lord. Jesus said to love our enemies. The Bible says perfect love casts out fear. I preach because I love.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Context is King
Taking words and actions out of context is a common thing in this day and age. Even Scripture can be taken out of context. It's true the Bible says "there is no God." However, in context, it says, "The fool in his heart says there is no God." Putting something in context provides a whole different meaning. God is, but the fool refuses to acknowledge Him.
Politics and the media seem to be taking things out of context as an art form these days. I'm referring to Trump again. It seems as though I begin to admire him for something and then there's that mouth. I watched in amazement and admiration the other day as his son spoke about the kind of dad Mr. Trump has been to him and his siblings. I have to say I admire Trump for doing such a good job with his children.
It's also interesting to note that Trump never sees the need to defend himself as a dad. He doesn't need to. However, business decisions and politics are another story. His lack of confidence is showing. One of those ways is to when he takes the word of others out of context, but God help the person who does it to him. Did you see how upset he got and how he accused a woman of being a Bush plant when she asked him an uncomfortable question at a meeting? Personally, I thought that was bullying on his part. There was no way she could defend herself against The Donald. However, we hear him defending himself and his context for days on every media outlet that will have him on their programs.
Then, yesterday, he's on FNC running down George Bush-but saying he was't. Context again. Mr. Trump said 9/11 would never have happened on his watch. Really. Then why did he not see those bankruptcies coming? Not once, but four times. He insists he was not putting Bush down by saying we were not kept safe. Here's where the context comes in. In my mind, Jeb Bush defends his brother for keeping us safe after 9/11. There's no argument there. Plot after plot was foiled and we were not attacked again. Since Bush left office, our safety and security grows weaker by the minute. We've already had terrorist attacks in this country, regardless what Obama says. Remember Ft. Hood? Candidate Trump refuses to see Jeb's comments in the way they were intended. Trump says we were not kept safe ON 9/11 and it would not have happened on his watch.
A great deal of context loss may come from the fact that we have different perspectives. I've often been misquoted. Something I've said has been heard differently by someone who has a totally different perspective. The Bible says where words are many, sin is not absent. Perhaps we all need to slow down, listen more carefully, ask about the speaker's context, give them more benefit of the doubt, and disagree more politely. Personally, I'm tired of our politicians running for office to prove themselves popular. I want a leader who doesn't have to consistently explain himself. If he's or she's a good leader, he or she won't have to.
Politics and the media seem to be taking things out of context as an art form these days. I'm referring to Trump again. It seems as though I begin to admire him for something and then there's that mouth. I watched in amazement and admiration the other day as his son spoke about the kind of dad Mr. Trump has been to him and his siblings. I have to say I admire Trump for doing such a good job with his children.
It's also interesting to note that Trump never sees the need to defend himself as a dad. He doesn't need to. However, business decisions and politics are another story. His lack of confidence is showing. One of those ways is to when he takes the word of others out of context, but God help the person who does it to him. Did you see how upset he got and how he accused a woman of being a Bush plant when she asked him an uncomfortable question at a meeting? Personally, I thought that was bullying on his part. There was no way she could defend herself against The Donald. However, we hear him defending himself and his context for days on every media outlet that will have him on their programs.
Then, yesterday, he's on FNC running down George Bush-but saying he was't. Context again. Mr. Trump said 9/11 would never have happened on his watch. Really. Then why did he not see those bankruptcies coming? Not once, but four times. He insists he was not putting Bush down by saying we were not kept safe. Here's where the context comes in. In my mind, Jeb Bush defends his brother for keeping us safe after 9/11. There's no argument there. Plot after plot was foiled and we were not attacked again. Since Bush left office, our safety and security grows weaker by the minute. We've already had terrorist attacks in this country, regardless what Obama says. Remember Ft. Hood? Candidate Trump refuses to see Jeb's comments in the way they were intended. Trump says we were not kept safe ON 9/11 and it would not have happened on his watch.
A great deal of context loss may come from the fact that we have different perspectives. I've often been misquoted. Something I've said has been heard differently by someone who has a totally different perspective. The Bible says where words are many, sin is not absent. Perhaps we all need to slow down, listen more carefully, ask about the speaker's context, give them more benefit of the doubt, and disagree more politely. Personally, I'm tired of our politicians running for office to prove themselves popular. I want a leader who doesn't have to consistently explain himself. If he's or she's a good leader, he or she won't have to.
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