Finally! Time to board my flight to San Francisco! My wonderful husband had managed to schedule my place in line as A 01 - first in line (behind the pre-boards) As the boarding agent verified my ticket, he handed it back and asked, "Do you know what to do with this?” I’d already heard him joking with several, so I shrugged and replied, “Throw it away?”
“No-o-o-o!!!” he howled, as the lady behind me exploded in delighted laughter. “Give it to the flight attendant as you enter the plane so she'll know we've started boarding the regular passengers!!” At 1:30 p.m. the Southwest plane lifted off the runway. I felt the familiar awe that anything that huge could get itself up into the air, but thank goodness, I no longer experience the craven fear of flying that ruined every trip. Now the only stirrings in my tummy were growls of hunger. That bowl of cereal was long gone.
As the attendant began handing out snacks the guy in the aisle seat pulled the top off a round container that looked suspiciously un-airline-ish. The heavenly smell of grilled chicken wafted under my nose. I looked at the miserable peanuts I was munching on, then leaned across and said to the guy drooling on his salad, “You could get attacked for that, you know.” He looked at me and mouthed, “What?” I repeated my warning, but he didn’t seem to take me seriously and shoved a huge bite of that cluck-cluck in his mouth right in front of me.
A white-haired man next to me was going home to Sacramento, repacking, then continuing on to his daughter’s wedding in Oregon. “It’s just a formality, really; they’ve been together for quite a while.” Then with a sigh of resignation, “Things sure are different nowadays. Times have changed.”
Three hours later we set down at the Las Vegas airport – very large because of all those slot machines in every nook and cranny, as well as many of the aisles. I traipsed at least a mile through a maze of corridors and blinking lights to B 9 (sounds like bingo) gateway. Ah! Just right. Few minutes to quit huffing and puffing, then settle down to pretend to read as I watch all the, well, interesting people before boarding for San Francisco. Wasn’t to be. A guy in the adjacent gateway brought us up to date on our flight – delayed two hours. But … if we’d like to hop on one leaving in 20 minutes, just come see him. Some people who can make up their minds quickly jumped up and hurried over. I tried to organize my gray matter. What should I do? A woman next to me moved in that direction, then a couple joined her. My competitive nature kicked in – I wasn’t going to be left behind!!
The airline guy told me my checked luggage might not get transferred to this flight in time to go with me. Or maybe it would. He added that when he glanced at my face. He issued me the necessary paperwork, plus a blue flimsy rectangle. “You can pre-board with this – IF you get there in time.” I thought, get there in time? From this desk to the boarding line six feet away? Then he enlightened me: “You’ll be leaving from C 12.” C 12?!! At least two miles back the way I’d come! And the plane leaving right away!
I speed-walked around corners, in and out around people enjoying their stroll through the airport, and hoped my heart would hold out. Finally I saw that beautiful sign: C 12. The pre-boarders were long gone and regulars were on their way in. I gently pushed my way up to the boarding agent and said “Am I too late to use this?” With a sweet smile she assured me I could go right on down that ramp. White hair and wrinkles come in handy sometime. It was a short flight on to Frisco. I’d hardly eaten all my peanuts when the captain ordered us to lock everything up and tighten those seat belts.
A litte later as I watched for my stuff, I noticed that a lovely family, also luggage-less, were speaking to each other in a beautiful language I couldn’t identify. Finally I just asked where they hailed from – “Norway,” was the answer. They were tall, handsome people, the daughter a striking blond almost the height of her father. I urged them to read Lauraine Snelling’s books about Norwegian immigrants who pioneered in North Dakota. Lauraine ought to give me a commission.
My luggage elected not to travel with me from Vegas, but would, I was assured, show up in an hour. So my "with-child" daughter-in-law picked me up curbside (more gorgeous brown eyes also welcoming me from the back seat), and we headed for the nearest Old MacDonald’s to while away the time.
Inside, several Hispanic teen boys were snacking on piles of burgers and fries trying to make it to supper, and an Asian gentleman with a very long goatee was chilling at a table. Just then a tall, thin older fellow stalked in, commanding the spotlight. His long flowing mane was topped by a black cowboy hat, and chains of all lengths dangled here and there. His ankle-length black leather coat smacked of the OK Corral and bunkhouses. But his tiny sidekick, who pushed past him, ruined his entrance. She made some uncomplimentary remarks about his person, which motivated him to tell her to watch her tongue (fairly quietly). She then told the teen boys clustered together not to be so loud. They apologized to her. She told them some more things and they apologized some more. The cowboy strode back and forth, alert to any problems he could deal with – other than his whip-cracking wife. She got the food and ushered him way to the back. “Well,” I said to Airiel, “this isn’t the crowd you see in the Searcy MacDonald’s.”
I still don’t know if I ate my chicken nuggets.
We returned to the airport through the heavy traffic and misting rain. When I exited the car, Naomi and Conrad protested, thinking I was leaving – mighty short visit, they thought. I claimed my suitcases, heaved them into the vehicle, and finally, we could go home. Yes!!
Naomi wanted to sleep with me; after all, her brother’s little bed was next to mine, while she was all the way across the hall. After careful consideration, I weaseled out of having a bed partner, hoping my name wouldn’t be mud forever. I’d bunked with Naomi before (although she was much younger) and was afraid I wouldn’t be able to handle her bountiful energy since I was absolutely wiped out by that time. Thankfully, she graciously and sweetly conceded, armed with the promise she could wake me up come morning. Nite, all.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
The Trip
Well, we finally did it: Jim and I took off for that road trip/vacation we've been mentioning to each other for awhile. Wow! If I'd known just what a wonderful 11 days we were going to experience, I would have nagged Jim more often about it over the years.
First of all, the weather graciously blessed us every single day. Moderate temps, cool breezes (okay, sometimes they’d lift your hair straight up), and no downpours obliterating the highway. Just lazy cotton-ball clouds moving slowly across an incredibly blue canopy stretched over us as far as we could see. And speaking of those endless horizons, I had been afraid that Kansas would be boring from the comments of others. Not! Some of the most beautiful skies we enjoyed during our trip were in this state. It's a wonder we didn't wreck, craning our necks so as not to miss one single bit of it. Things at ground level were just as eye-easy: circular fields (hadn’t seen round ones before), some planted in sun-hued wheat, others in green milo (or barley?) with trees in semi-circles around the plantings, seeming to stand guard. Here and there cattle dotted meadows and ponds played with the wind. We couldn’t believe the highway was so vacant; we had it all to ourselves much of the time, producing the narcissistic feeling that this beauty was solely ours!
And then it began. Mountains rising majestically high, silently being, reminded us of the newness of everything else, including ourselves. Why do mountains look wise? Maybe they don’t to anyone else – just to me, with the fanciful imagination. The incredible mounds took center stage at first sight and did not relinquish that position for the next several days. They ringed us ever so long, seeming to move farther away as we drove. Would we never get to them?! Finally, the black, gray, and brown rocky crags and peaks leaned down upon us, taking our breath with their hugeness. We felt diminished, awe-struck, breathless, and humbled before their Maker. In fact that feeling was so strong at one point during our trip that I wrote this in my travel journal:
The mountains … look like old men's faces, leathery and brown, leaning over to gaze at us as we pass by. Do they wonder who we are? Do they wonder if we know the One who made them? Yes, majestic ones, we do.
This article would never end if I told about everything, so here are some snippets and fragments of our journey west: ghostly white, other-worldly windmills clustered together on Kansas prairies – seemingly so out of place; the older lady cashier in financially–depressed Limon, CO, who told us a Readers Digest version of her and her husband’s struggle to raise eight children; the Easter-egg-colored little houses in Idaho Spring, CO, each short street layered higher than the one below, as if on bleachers because of the mountainous terrain. Hair standing on end as the GPS stupidly routed us up a steep, twisty, one-lane logging road –Jim’s hair didn’t recover for the rest of the day.
The names we saw here and there: Gold Diggers High School, Gamble Gulch Rd., Old Stagecoach Trail, Lump Gulch Rd., Phantom Lake, (nothing there!), Wolf Crossing, Knife River, Yellow Bird’s Cafe. A loud-mouthed, lippy crow caught our camera, demanding food from us. A bison ambled inches from our car window, never letting on that he knew we existed. Seeing people and cars clustered on the side of the highway, we stopped and caught the back of a black bear as he or she gobbled berries from a tree. Slipping and sliding down the nearly vertical path to Crawfish Creek to watch kids splashing at the base of the pounding, sparkling waterfall, wishing I could jump in too. Old Faithful burping, sputtering, then spraying; a fat, sleek mama elk munching grass on a church’s lawn (in the middle of town!), stopping for a potty break at a roadside rest stop and reading this sign on the door: Please close the door behind you – snow gets in the restroom.
Open-range cows – loose stock – which we figured might be lunch or supper for a grizzly; presidents’ faces released from the mountain, perpetually staring across rocky terrain (did I hear George ask, Where’s Cary?). Wounded Knee, SD. - desolate, wind-swept grave yard, with two teen boys, a mother and her little girl hopefully displaying trinkets for sale, but then the young men proudly showing us the sign of a warrior with upraised fists as the camera clicked. We drove away with sad hearts.
The trip began to wind down as we crossed into Missouri, sans mountains, and wondered at a sign proclaiming, The St. Joseph Skeptic Society. I decided it had been erected because the members had experienced the local Days Inn and their promise of a pleasant night.
I will carry this trip in my heart forever. Thank You, Lord, for intensifying my wonder and amazement of You, and Your marvelous, marvelous creation.
First of all, the weather graciously blessed us every single day. Moderate temps, cool breezes (okay, sometimes they’d lift your hair straight up), and no downpours obliterating the highway. Just lazy cotton-ball clouds moving slowly across an incredibly blue canopy stretched over us as far as we could see. And speaking of those endless horizons, I had been afraid that Kansas would be boring from the comments of others. Not! Some of the most beautiful skies we enjoyed during our trip were in this state. It's a wonder we didn't wreck, craning our necks so as not to miss one single bit of it. Things at ground level were just as eye-easy: circular fields (hadn’t seen round ones before), some planted in sun-hued wheat, others in green milo (or barley?) with trees in semi-circles around the plantings, seeming to stand guard. Here and there cattle dotted meadows and ponds played with the wind. We couldn’t believe the highway was so vacant; we had it all to ourselves much of the time, producing the narcissistic feeling that this beauty was solely ours!
And then it began. Mountains rising majestically high, silently being, reminded us of the newness of everything else, including ourselves. Why do mountains look wise? Maybe they don’t to anyone else – just to me, with the fanciful imagination. The incredible mounds took center stage at first sight and did not relinquish that position for the next several days. They ringed us ever so long, seeming to move farther away as we drove. Would we never get to them?! Finally, the black, gray, and brown rocky crags and peaks leaned down upon us, taking our breath with their hugeness. We felt diminished, awe-struck, breathless, and humbled before their Maker. In fact that feeling was so strong at one point during our trip that I wrote this in my travel journal:
The mountains … look like old men's faces, leathery and brown, leaning over to gaze at us as we pass by. Do they wonder who we are? Do they wonder if we know the One who made them? Yes, majestic ones, we do.
This article would never end if I told about everything, so here are some snippets and fragments of our journey west: ghostly white, other-worldly windmills clustered together on Kansas prairies – seemingly so out of place; the older lady cashier in financially–depressed Limon, CO, who told us a Readers Digest version of her and her husband’s struggle to raise eight children; the Easter-egg-colored little houses in Idaho Spring, CO, each short street layered higher than the one below, as if on bleachers because of the mountainous terrain. Hair standing on end as the GPS stupidly routed us up a steep, twisty, one-lane logging road –Jim’s hair didn’t recover for the rest of the day.
The names we saw here and there: Gold Diggers High School, Gamble Gulch Rd., Old Stagecoach Trail, Lump Gulch Rd., Phantom Lake, (nothing there!), Wolf Crossing, Knife River, Yellow Bird’s Cafe. A loud-mouthed, lippy crow caught our camera, demanding food from us. A bison ambled inches from our car window, never letting on that he knew we existed. Seeing people and cars clustered on the side of the highway, we stopped and caught the back of a black bear as he or she gobbled berries from a tree. Slipping and sliding down the nearly vertical path to Crawfish Creek to watch kids splashing at the base of the pounding, sparkling waterfall, wishing I could jump in too. Old Faithful burping, sputtering, then spraying; a fat, sleek mama elk munching grass on a church’s lawn (in the middle of town!), stopping for a potty break at a roadside rest stop and reading this sign on the door: Please close the door behind you – snow gets in the restroom.
Open-range cows – loose stock – which we figured might be lunch or supper for a grizzly; presidents’ faces released from the mountain, perpetually staring across rocky terrain (did I hear George ask, Where’s Cary?). Wounded Knee, SD. - desolate, wind-swept grave yard, with two teen boys, a mother and her little girl hopefully displaying trinkets for sale, but then the young men proudly showing us the sign of a warrior with upraised fists as the camera clicked. We drove away with sad hearts.
The trip began to wind down as we crossed into Missouri, sans mountains, and wondered at a sign proclaiming, The St. Joseph Skeptic Society. I decided it had been erected because the members had experienced the local Days Inn and their promise of a pleasant night.
I will carry this trip in my heart forever. Thank You, Lord, for intensifying my wonder and amazement of You, and Your marvelous, marvelous creation.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Me, Me, Me
Why do we spend so much time thinking about ourselves? Maybe you don’t have that problem, but I’m here to tell you I do. I get so frustrated when my thoughts continually slide back into the familiar groove labeled, “Geraldine.” I don’t want to do that! I long to instead busy my mind with the same considerations as the Lord. And before somebody protests, I know it’s impossible and not even healthy to never reflect on ourselves. We have to, at times, make decisions regarding our persons, etc. I’m referring to too much energy and time spent on oneself – revolving my world around me.
I even avoid reading after any author dedicated to exploring himself in nauseous detail. It seems a waste of time to read how someone adores movies and hates the smell of pine sol, or that only certain kinds of sheets are allowed to grace the bed, or that he or she loves squid, but only with the proper type of sauce. I strongly suspect those titillating revelations don’t make much of a difference in my attitudes or behavior. (Actually, I have to repent of a very bad attitude when I do slip up and read such an article.) It isn’t that they’re inadequate writers; the problem is their subject matter. Remember the old saying: if you’re all wrapped up in yourself, you make a mighty small package?
However, one doesn’t have to be a writer to qualify as a little parcel. Constantly focusing on ourselves – for any reason - is a habit that imprisons us in bands of steel. But, wait, if we dwell on our shortcomings and deficiencies (meekly putting ourselves down?), isn’t that humility? The following definition pretty much blows away that reasoning: “Being humble is not thinking lowly of ourselves; it’s simply not thinking of ourselves.” Which, by the way, is easier written than accomplished.
What’s the solution for being the center of our own undivided attention?
The consistent message of Scripture is that we’re not ourselves anymore - not the old self anyway – “Your old sinful self has died” (Col 3:3). Rom. 6:2 says that “We died to our old sinful lives, so how can we continue living with sin?” Chapter 12:2 admonishes that we “be changed within by a new way of thinking.” It’s not enough to merely try and ban sinful thoughts – we must purposefully replace ME with the fullness of God himself!! How?
Eph 3:16-19 has been calling me back to its wisdom often in the past few months. I keep reading it, trying to grasp what the Spirit is saying to me.
I pray that you … will have the power to understand the greatness of Christ’s love – how wide and how long and how high and how deep that love is. Christ’s love is greater than anyone can ever know, but I pray that you will be able to know that love. (NCV)
Did you notice that Paul prays we’ll be able to know Christ’s love – even though he just said it’s greater than anyone can ever know? He has to mean knowledge that is more than mere head knowledge – we need that rich and vast knowledge quickened only by experiencing God. Walking with God, proving his love trustworthy in the valley of the shadow, or in the fire, or by stepping out into the unknown on faith. And what will be our reward if we grasp the wonder of the love of Jesus?
“You will be filled with the fullness of God” (verse 19). No room left for that parcel.
I even avoid reading after any author dedicated to exploring himself in nauseous detail. It seems a waste of time to read how someone adores movies and hates the smell of pine sol, or that only certain kinds of sheets are allowed to grace the bed, or that he or she loves squid, but only with the proper type of sauce. I strongly suspect those titillating revelations don’t make much of a difference in my attitudes or behavior. (Actually, I have to repent of a very bad attitude when I do slip up and read such an article.) It isn’t that they’re inadequate writers; the problem is their subject matter. Remember the old saying: if you’re all wrapped up in yourself, you make a mighty small package?
However, one doesn’t have to be a writer to qualify as a little parcel. Constantly focusing on ourselves – for any reason - is a habit that imprisons us in bands of steel. But, wait, if we dwell on our shortcomings and deficiencies (meekly putting ourselves down?), isn’t that humility? The following definition pretty much blows away that reasoning: “Being humble is not thinking lowly of ourselves; it’s simply not thinking of ourselves.” Which, by the way, is easier written than accomplished.
What’s the solution for being the center of our own undivided attention?
The consistent message of Scripture is that we’re not ourselves anymore - not the old self anyway – “Your old sinful self has died” (Col 3:3). Rom. 6:2 says that “We died to our old sinful lives, so how can we continue living with sin?” Chapter 12:2 admonishes that we “be changed within by a new way of thinking.” It’s not enough to merely try and ban sinful thoughts – we must purposefully replace ME with the fullness of God himself!! How?
Eph 3:16-19 has been calling me back to its wisdom often in the past few months. I keep reading it, trying to grasp what the Spirit is saying to me.
I pray that you … will have the power to understand the greatness of Christ’s love – how wide and how long and how high and how deep that love is. Christ’s love is greater than anyone can ever know, but I pray that you will be able to know that love. (NCV)
Did you notice that Paul prays we’ll be able to know Christ’s love – even though he just said it’s greater than anyone can ever know? He has to mean knowledge that is more than mere head knowledge – we need that rich and vast knowledge quickened only by experiencing God. Walking with God, proving his love trustworthy in the valley of the shadow, or in the fire, or by stepping out into the unknown on faith. And what will be our reward if we grasp the wonder of the love of Jesus?
“You will be filled with the fullness of God” (verse 19). No room left for that parcel.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Swiftly the Days
I’m disturbed.
Time is passing much too fast
for me to keep up.
My head whirls to keep track
of dates and events I thought
so recent.
Are you sure that was last year?
Two years ago?
I’m getting old – well,
older anyhow.
What I mean to say is
I’m getting older
too fast to be possible!
This isn’t real – how these days
zip by
like soap slipping from wet hands.
I can’t seem to get a grip
on my life.
Lord, please supply some traction!
Can you relate? I can relate all too well. More years have passed since I penned these disquieting thoughts than the number of years I had lived at that time – 34 more years as a matter of fact. And I just thought life was moving on along then! An even more daunting truth: My three older kids are 10 to 15 years older now than I was then. I can’t think about that too long. Messes with my brain.
Nowadays, I’m fortunate if I know the day of the month. I can still pretty well tell you if it’s Monday or Tuesday, but don’t ask me more than that. And by the way, what happened to September and October?
I wish someone had sat me down long ago, looked me straight in the eye and said: “Live TODAY. Do not long for tomorrow, for whatever reason. Do not wish away today! God’s precious gift to you is now, the present, whatever that involves. Give God time to work in this moment.”
As a child, when I complained about time dragging (what kid doesn’t believe time dawdles?), my mother would always remind me that “tomorrow never comes.” The first time she said this I begged to differ with her. With a smile of triumph she pointed out, “What day will it be tomorrow? Will it be called tomorrow, or today?”
Don’t be the mommy who isn’t satisfied very long with her baby’s little feat of rolling over from tummy to back because she wants baby to sit alone. Then sitting alone isn’t enough; it’s time to crawl, baby! So baby crawls, but wait; now walking is the thing! When that golden moment happens, however, our hurry, hurry mother very quickly begins dreaming of pre-school; she had no idea of the mischief one little child would get into after becoming mobile on two legs. Don’t let on-going impatience make your children’s early years only a blur after all of you are older. Don’t rush – savor and enjoy. Before you can turn around good, those children will have spouses and children of their own. Trust me. And I’m not trying to be morose and gloomy. (If I wanted to be morose and gloomy I’d quote that old song about “we are going down the valley one by one, with our faces toward the setting of the sun. That song always gave me the creeps.)
We can be impatient in any stage of our lives – and be robbed and cheated because of it. Wishing away grade school, then high school, followed by the longing to graduate college to dive into the “real world.” What’s next? Watching the clock every day until 5 p.m., (especially on Fridays), to run away from that real world, impatiently enduring the grind of each week until retirement. The sad part is that, after racing through life to attain that prize, many discover it’s not the utopia they’d conjured up in their minds. Gracious, time zooms by like an Amtrak train as it is – why do we insist on accelerating it?!
Could our practice of blurring our way through our days be a form of soul sleep? Perhaps. To which Scripture says,
Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall shine (make day dawn) upon you and give you light. Look carefully then how you walk! Live purposefully and worthily and accurately, not as the unwise and witless, but as wise (sensible, intelligent people). Making the very most of the time because the days are evil. Therefore do not be vague and thoughtless and foolish, but understanding and firmly grasping what the will of the Lord is (Eph. 5:14-1).7 Amplified Bible
Time is passing much too fast
for me to keep up.
My head whirls to keep track
of dates and events I thought
so recent.
Are you sure that was last year?
Two years ago?
I’m getting old – well,
older anyhow.
What I mean to say is
I’m getting older
too fast to be possible!
This isn’t real – how these days
zip by
like soap slipping from wet hands.
I can’t seem to get a grip
on my life.
Lord, please supply some traction!
Can you relate? I can relate all too well. More years have passed since I penned these disquieting thoughts than the number of years I had lived at that time – 34 more years as a matter of fact. And I just thought life was moving on along then! An even more daunting truth: My three older kids are 10 to 15 years older now than I was then. I can’t think about that too long. Messes with my brain.
Nowadays, I’m fortunate if I know the day of the month. I can still pretty well tell you if it’s Monday or Tuesday, but don’t ask me more than that. And by the way, what happened to September and October?
I wish someone had sat me down long ago, looked me straight in the eye and said: “Live TODAY. Do not long for tomorrow, for whatever reason. Do not wish away today! God’s precious gift to you is now, the present, whatever that involves. Give God time to work in this moment.”
As a child, when I complained about time dragging (what kid doesn’t believe time dawdles?), my mother would always remind me that “tomorrow never comes.” The first time she said this I begged to differ with her. With a smile of triumph she pointed out, “What day will it be tomorrow? Will it be called tomorrow, or today?”
Don’t be the mommy who isn’t satisfied very long with her baby’s little feat of rolling over from tummy to back because she wants baby to sit alone. Then sitting alone isn’t enough; it’s time to crawl, baby! So baby crawls, but wait; now walking is the thing! When that golden moment happens, however, our hurry, hurry mother very quickly begins dreaming of pre-school; she had no idea of the mischief one little child would get into after becoming mobile on two legs. Don’t let on-going impatience make your children’s early years only a blur after all of you are older. Don’t rush – savor and enjoy. Before you can turn around good, those children will have spouses and children of their own. Trust me. And I’m not trying to be morose and gloomy. (If I wanted to be morose and gloomy I’d quote that old song about “we are going down the valley one by one, with our faces toward the setting of the sun. That song always gave me the creeps.)
We can be impatient in any stage of our lives – and be robbed and cheated because of it. Wishing away grade school, then high school, followed by the longing to graduate college to dive into the “real world.” What’s next? Watching the clock every day until 5 p.m., (especially on Fridays), to run away from that real world, impatiently enduring the grind of each week until retirement. The sad part is that, after racing through life to attain that prize, many discover it’s not the utopia they’d conjured up in their minds. Gracious, time zooms by like an Amtrak train as it is – why do we insist on accelerating it?!
Could our practice of blurring our way through our days be a form of soul sleep? Perhaps. To which Scripture says,
Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall shine (make day dawn) upon you and give you light. Look carefully then how you walk! Live purposefully and worthily and accurately, not as the unwise and witless, but as wise (sensible, intelligent people). Making the very most of the time because the days are evil. Therefore do not be vague and thoughtless and foolish, but understanding and firmly grasping what the will of the Lord is (Eph. 5:14-1).7 Amplified Bible
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Six Words or Less
AARP did something right this month – one of the articles in their magazine told of Ernest Hemingway’s being challenged to tell a story in only six words. He came back with, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”
That was the introduction to a new feature of the magazine inviting readers to tell their life stories in six words or less, with the best to be published each month.
Got me to thinking. How would I describe my life in six words or less? Maybe this: Sixty-five, Not Through, More Adventures! Or: Daughtering, Wife-ing, Mothering, Granmama-ing, Great-gran-ing, Gone. (The great-grans are only a dream right now, but I hope to have gobs.)
Kind of pares us down to the bare essentials, doesn’t it, trying to cram years of emotions, activities, words and thoughts – LIVING - into a few puny words?
Which expressions would you chose, or make up, to describe your marriage? Mine might be: battle scars, blessings-covered, hilarious, merged. Or I could say: green partners, greener parents, God-rescued!
What about a child of yours?
Your outlook on life would call for what terms? Your habits?
Your housekeeping? (snicker)
Your cooking – or lack thereof? (more snickers)
Describing children should be easier than other subjects; think of them in certain situations that bring out the finer points of their personalities, such as, coaxing him or her into the 2-year-old Bible class. Or saying prayers at bedtime. Of course, there’s always the teen-age years. I would frame one of our off-spring this way: melodramatic, incredibly discerning, artistic, inconsistent, persistent. Another could be, Slightly irreverent, skilled, prankish, compassionate, reserved.
Now for the hard assessment – oneself. My outlook on life? Which day? Sometimes this would describe me: Focused/ unfocused, organized/ disorganized, full/empty. Contradictory. Other days, when I allow more of Jesus in me, I hope these words fit: New nature! God’s power! Jesus’ warrior!
I’m not going into the housekeeping and cooking. I’ve wasted enough of your time already, and I don’t want to resort to even minor falsehoods.
Try this exercise – see what it reveals to you about your life.
That was the introduction to a new feature of the magazine inviting readers to tell their life stories in six words or less, with the best to be published each month.
Got me to thinking. How would I describe my life in six words or less? Maybe this: Sixty-five, Not Through, More Adventures! Or: Daughtering, Wife-ing, Mothering, Granmama-ing, Great-gran-ing, Gone. (The great-grans are only a dream right now, but I hope to have gobs.)
Kind of pares us down to the bare essentials, doesn’t it, trying to cram years of emotions, activities, words and thoughts – LIVING - into a few puny words?
Which expressions would you chose, or make up, to describe your marriage? Mine might be: battle scars, blessings-covered, hilarious, merged. Or I could say: green partners, greener parents, God-rescued!
What about a child of yours?
Your outlook on life would call for what terms? Your habits?
Your housekeeping? (snicker)
Your cooking – or lack thereof? (more snickers)
Describing children should be easier than other subjects; think of them in certain situations that bring out the finer points of their personalities, such as, coaxing him or her into the 2-year-old Bible class. Or saying prayers at bedtime. Of course, there’s always the teen-age years. I would frame one of our off-spring this way: melodramatic, incredibly discerning, artistic, inconsistent, persistent. Another could be, Slightly irreverent, skilled, prankish, compassionate, reserved.
Now for the hard assessment – oneself. My outlook on life? Which day? Sometimes this would describe me: Focused/ unfocused, organized/ disorganized, full/empty. Contradictory. Other days, when I allow more of Jesus in me, I hope these words fit: New nature! God’s power! Jesus’ warrior!
I’m not going into the housekeeping and cooking. I’ve wasted enough of your time already, and I don’t want to resort to even minor falsehoods.
Try this exercise – see what it reveals to you about your life.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Centering on Jesus
How can I, as a woman, find satisfaction and joy in my walk with the Lord?
I can tell you this: the direction and focus of our thoughts have everything to do with living joyfully in Jesus Christ. When we let anything sneak in to steal the place the Lord himself should occupy in our thinking; when our minds are captured and seduced by any issue, person or objective, then we stumble, looking to the right and left, instead of being fastened unswervingly on Jesus. Letting my mind visit, then rent an apartment in the wrong neighborhood can incite discontent, dissatisfaction and resentment. And guess what? I ultimately end up focusing on – yep, ME.
What should I allow to capture me? Not what, ladies, but Whom!! Just as surely as I train my energies on a what, then just as surely I will be distracted from the most important theme of my life: Jesus Christ the Savior. Let us run the race that is before us and never give up. We should remove from our lives anything that would get in the way and the sin that so easily holds us back. Let us look only to Jesus… (Heb 12:1, 2).
Real joy will never result from centering on those things we’re unhappy about. How old were you when you began to suspect the church family wasn’t perfect? Your suspicions were well-founded; we, the church, are most imperfect. How shall we handle that fact? Decide that perceived or even genuine injustices or boundaries will prevent us from growing in the Lord? Withdraw; get interested in something else? Become resentful and lash out at every opportunity? Launch a one-woman campaign to correct those imperfections?
Do you really think our Lord will allow us to go without anything we must have in order to become the people He wants? Was David really serious when, in Ps. 23:1, he declares that our Shepherd will supply our every need? Is Scripture truthful when it says we have every spiritual blessing in Christ (Eph 1:3)? Every one, Lord? What could possibly be more wonderful than this fact: God’s mercy is great, and he loved us very much. Though we were spiritually dead because of the things we did against God, he gave us new life with Christ. You have been saved by God’s grace. And he raised us up with Christ and gave us a seat with him in the heavens. He did this for those in Christ Jesus so that for all future time he could show the very great riches of his grace by being kind to us in Christ Jesus (Eph. 2:4-7).
Isn’t the honor given to us of being raised from death and seated with Jesus in heaven awesome enough to make up for the omissions, the glitches, the immaturities in every church family?
The church is imperfect. Does that prevent me from loving the Lord my God with everything I have and loving my neighbor as myself? Does that hold me back from laying down my life for another? Does that seal my lips so that I cannot tell the gospel story?
God’s power to realize his purposes through you and me is not blocked by what other people do or refuse to do. The One who fashioned Eve is not scratching his head, stymied about how to use you beautifully because others won't cooperate. Nobody - nothing - can hinder Jesus putting fruit on my branches if I am ingrafted into him.
I am the vine and you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing … by this my Father is glorified that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples.
I can tell you this: the direction and focus of our thoughts have everything to do with living joyfully in Jesus Christ. When we let anything sneak in to steal the place the Lord himself should occupy in our thinking; when our minds are captured and seduced by any issue, person or objective, then we stumble, looking to the right and left, instead of being fastened unswervingly on Jesus. Letting my mind visit, then rent an apartment in the wrong neighborhood can incite discontent, dissatisfaction and resentment. And guess what? I ultimately end up focusing on – yep, ME.
What should I allow to capture me? Not what, ladies, but Whom!! Just as surely as I train my energies on a what, then just as surely I will be distracted from the most important theme of my life: Jesus Christ the Savior. Let us run the race that is before us and never give up. We should remove from our lives anything that would get in the way and the sin that so easily holds us back. Let us look only to Jesus… (Heb 12:1, 2).
Real joy will never result from centering on those things we’re unhappy about. How old were you when you began to suspect the church family wasn’t perfect? Your suspicions were well-founded; we, the church, are most imperfect. How shall we handle that fact? Decide that perceived or even genuine injustices or boundaries will prevent us from growing in the Lord? Withdraw; get interested in something else? Become resentful and lash out at every opportunity? Launch a one-woman campaign to correct those imperfections?
Do you really think our Lord will allow us to go without anything we must have in order to become the people He wants? Was David really serious when, in Ps. 23:1, he declares that our Shepherd will supply our every need? Is Scripture truthful when it says we have every spiritual blessing in Christ (Eph 1:3)? Every one, Lord? What could possibly be more wonderful than this fact: God’s mercy is great, and he loved us very much. Though we were spiritually dead because of the things we did against God, he gave us new life with Christ. You have been saved by God’s grace. And he raised us up with Christ and gave us a seat with him in the heavens. He did this for those in Christ Jesus so that for all future time he could show the very great riches of his grace by being kind to us in Christ Jesus (Eph. 2:4-7).
Isn’t the honor given to us of being raised from death and seated with Jesus in heaven awesome enough to make up for the omissions, the glitches, the immaturities in every church family?
The church is imperfect. Does that prevent me from loving the Lord my God with everything I have and loving my neighbor as myself? Does that hold me back from laying down my life for another? Does that seal my lips so that I cannot tell the gospel story?
God’s power to realize his purposes through you and me is not blocked by what other people do or refuse to do. The One who fashioned Eve is not scratching his head, stymied about how to use you beautifully because others won't cooperate. Nobody - nothing - can hinder Jesus putting fruit on my branches if I am ingrafted into him.
I am the vine and you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing … by this my Father is glorified that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
The "Blessed"
O Lord, you are such a blessing! You bless me so abundantly! How easy it is to sit in this comfortable chair, in this very adequate house, sipping hot coffee as I contemplate my faithfulness. How easy to be faithful in this situation! Oh yes I can praise the Lord, knowing we have enough money to meet every need, that we enjoy good health for ourselves, our children, and grandchildren, and that we're surrounded by a loving church family. What about those who aren't as "blessed" as we perceive ourselves to be? Are we favored? Has the Lord withdrawn his favor from them?
Actually, God never withdraws his blessings. It is we who must adjust our glasses (perspective).
Here's what I mean: Lord how blessed and admirable are those who praise you but have few or none of the luxurious blessings I enjoy! They have learned to look to you as a child looks to his parents for survival.
How beautiful are they who struggle every day with serious illness with no trace of bitterness! They have realized that your wisdom is all that counts.
How precious in your sight, the lonely ones who have endured the agonizing loss of dear ones and still lovingly cling to you as the drowning grip a lifeline.
These know you intimately as friend. How honored in your eyes the precious souls who have few worldly treasures, but fill their hearts and homes to overflowing with the needy! They fully experience delicious satisfaction in serving you.
So who is it who's really blessed here? Those with this mindset: "Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign LORD is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights." Habakkuk 3:17-19
"In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord's people." 2 Cor. 8:1-4
O Lord, may it never be that troubles - want, pain, betrayal, loss - overcome me, transform me into one who is angry and unbelieving, a grumbling, disenchanted Christian, too paralyzed to serve my God. Strengthen me in my inner woman O Lord, that I may be humbly faithful, trustworthy and uncomplaining - whatever my circumstances.
Make me an "even though" person.
Actually, God never withdraws his blessings. It is we who must adjust our glasses (perspective).
Here's what I mean: Lord how blessed and admirable are those who praise you but have few or none of the luxurious blessings I enjoy! They have learned to look to you as a child looks to his parents for survival.
How beautiful are they who struggle every day with serious illness with no trace of bitterness! They have realized that your wisdom is all that counts.
How precious in your sight, the lonely ones who have endured the agonizing loss of dear ones and still lovingly cling to you as the drowning grip a lifeline.
These know you intimately as friend. How honored in your eyes the precious souls who have few worldly treasures, but fill their hearts and homes to overflowing with the needy! They fully experience delicious satisfaction in serving you.
So who is it who's really blessed here? Those with this mindset: "Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign LORD is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights." Habakkuk 3:17-19
"In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord's people." 2 Cor. 8:1-4
O Lord, may it never be that troubles - want, pain, betrayal, loss - overcome me, transform me into one who is angry and unbelieving, a grumbling, disenchanted Christian, too paralyzed to serve my God. Strengthen me in my inner woman O Lord, that I may be humbly faithful, trustworthy and uncomplaining - whatever my circumstances.
Make me an "even though" person.
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