Please Stay Tuned

I'll be right back. I am on vacation and will be back with renewed vigor and vim next week.

Blessings to all.

The Greatest Love of All

Today is the day of love. It is the day that we set aside to celebrate our love relationships. The holiday may have started with the greeting card and candy companies (I don’t really know the history of how it started) but the holiday did not create the reason we celebrate – Love. God did.

Whether you are in a relationship or not this day, know that you part of a completely, thoroughly, head-over-heels “I-Love-You-To-The-Bone” relationship. You already have the greatest Valentine a person could ever hope for or dream about. An eternity-long valentine. This One brings riches on His date far better than the best chocolates or prettiest roses. You are His, He is yours and He desires you. (Song of Songs 7:10). Good word - desires.

He rejoices over you with all His heart and all His soul. (Jer. 33:41) That’s a lot of heart and a lot of soul – it’s God size. So as you enjoy the day with your significant other or on your own, my prayer for you is that you also feel the desire, feel the heart and feel the soul loving you of the One who loved you first and the One who will love you last.

Happy Valentine’s Day

~

Whistle While You Work

I hate chores. I did when I was little and I do as an adult. Getting me to make my bed as a kid was like pulling teeth for my Mother. Every morning she would ask me at breakfast if I’d done it and I would always roll my head and neck (a mere eye roll did not convey the enormity of my distain for the task), harrumph, and trudge back upstairs – ever so slowly, and make my bed. It took me, what all of 3 minutes to do it but it was a tortuous 3 minutes.

I also was assigned the duty of feeding my dog, Patches, and the family dog, Fawn. And feed and clean out the cage of my parakeets, Daiquiri and Scooter. The nerve of my parents, expecting me to feed and care for my own pets. What were they trying to do, teach me responsibility or something? Well, I didn’t have to like it. And I didn’t have to do it with a good attitude – there that’ll show ‘em.

After all, who did my parents want me to be, Snow White? Boy, she was a real case. Her stepmother sends her off into the woods with the woodsman who has secret instructions to kill her, and bring back her heart. Nice. He decides to take the high road and let Snow White live, telling her to run away and he’ll fake out the Queen with the heart of an animal (like ‘ol Queeny knows a human heart from a pig’s heart). Snow White, as we know ends up at the home of the seven dwarfs where she is offered free room and board if she does all the cooking, cleaning, sewing and washing.

This is where the Princess and I diverge off each other’s tracks. She just lights right up at that invitation. She acts as if nothing would please her more than to spend her life cleaning up after these seven messy little men. Birds start flitting in, squirrels jump in the window and soon the whole forest is lending a hand in the joyous chore-a-thon.

Does Snow White fail to realize what got her into this predicament? Has she forgotten the whole “kill her and bring me her heart” mandate by her stepmother? And what about her life? Doesn’t she want to get on with her life? Meet somebody and settle down with her own family? She seems so content to stay put and be the mistress of this little chore-filled house.

She doesn’t even recognize her stepmother when she comes to the cottage and gives her the poisoned apple. She is so cheery and welcoming, oblivious to her impending doom. (All that dust has gone to her head.) Finally, evil seemingly prevails and Snow White falls under the spell of the apple’s poison. (Evil is sneaky that way.) The dwarfs think she is dead. Luckily, she isn’t and we know that love revives her (and saves her from a life of chores – my favorite part).

Hard to admit as it is, I think Snow White has it right all along. Whistling while I work is the better way. Harrumphing around while doing boring chores is just what Satan wants. He is trying to steal my joy at every turn. All day he is at my heels following me around seeing where or when he can grasp an opportunity to put me in a bad mood or create strife.

Satan isn’t after my stuff; he’s after my joy. Nothing makes him madder than to see me having a dodge ball kind of day yet still be smiling, laughing and whistling a happy little tune. And nothing would please me more than to displease Satan. (I’m kind of contrary that way.) So excuse me for a second while a take a lesson out of Snow White’s play book and go wash the dishes in my sink - with a song on my heart and a smile on my lips.

Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to work I go!


~

What Remains

My mind is a crazy place. Thoughts zig-zag past each other at dizzying speeds. And rarely do they have anything in common. Daydreaming is a favorite hobby. Night dreaming is too but those can get a little scary, and weird. Lately, my thoughts keep returning to things past. Events and days and people gone by.

If you are a regular reader of this blog then you know that I have a penchant for telling stories of my life already lived. Memories keep bubbling to the surface. I’m not exactly sure why – or how – I come up with some of the things I do. But they do and so I am forced to deal with them.

The late author and speaker, Corrie ten Boom, once wrote that memories are events that God is not finished with yet. “Memories are the key not to the past but to the future. I think the experiences of our lives, when we let God use them become perfect preparation for the work He will give us to do.”

Memories, overcoming bad ones in particular, are keys in letting God resurrect and restore us and the dreams and plans for our lives. While we are not to cling to the past, we are told to “remember the days of old” (Deut. 32:7). I think this is because we can learn from our past and the past of others. When we place our past in the hands of our Heavenly Father He opens our eyes to things that we never saw before. Beautiful things that can only be uncovered by His hand and in His timing. (Is. 61:1-4).

Recently, I was taught this lesson most beautifully by a dear friend. I have known Barbara for about 35 years. She is the matriarch of a family that is very close to my family and our families’ lives have intertwined most of my life. I know Barbara to be a beautiful, loving and gracious woman. I love her like a second mother. But I will now sadly admit I did not know as much about her as I could have.

She sent me a very innocuous looking email recently. The body of the email had just five words “Click here: Hope Group Notes”. So I clicked. What I read next transformed me; brought me to tears and gave me amazing insights into a woman I admire and adore (and now I know why) and taught me true-life lessons about God and His boundless love.

Barbara gave testimony about her life and the notes from that testimony were put online by the chapel where she spoke. What she sent me – with no forewarning of any kind that she had even given a sermon – were the notes of that testimony. I am going to give you that same link in a moment but what I want you to know first is that the woman who stood before that congregation and told her story has told this story to very few others. I never knew her story until I read it. It took a world of courage to stand up and give this witness of her past. But as you will see, if you choose to click and see, is that God will redeem us, He will restore our past, wash away the hurt and He will heal the brokenness. We just have to let Him.

Memories can be transformed. They can transform us and they can transform others. What remains is God's abounding love.

Click Here: Hope Group Notes by Barbara Adams

~

Letter to a Friend

Dear Friend,

I saw you recently at our local coffee café. You said it was good to see me after so many months. I said likewise. You asked how I was and inquired as to what I was doing and if anything were new. I reported that I was doing well and that lots in my life had changed since we had last seen each other.

You then asked if my “situation” had improved. And I replied that indeed “it” had not. You said, “Well, if that hadn’t changed then nothing had.” And I disagreed with that assessment and before I could go on – you were “shocked” and asked how I could “sit here looking so good and calm and pretty and relaxed?” “You must be an idiot!” you stated flately.

I sat there for a second and then replied that I was so sorry to disappoint you. You again said there was something wrong with me. That if the situation was reversed and it was you “in my situation” you would be a raving lunatic. You would be bald from having pulled out all your hair, you would be at home curled up in a ball in a corner where no one could find you crying and hiding in shame and dieing from the stress of it all. Why was I not doing the same? Did I not care? Do I not understand my situation for heaven’s sake?

Then, thankfully, your blackberry bleeped and you were called away on some important errand. To spread more of your uplifting joy, no doubt. “But we have to get together again soon!” you said as you strode out of sight. I can’t wait.

In the meantime, I am posting this “open letter” to you because you left before I could respond to your questions.

I am not doing the same as you because I have already done the same as you allegedly would – and it did not work. First off, there is no shame in my situation. Secondly, yes, I care. I care more than you can possibly imagine. That is why I changed my plan of action. And hear me when I say this I understand my situation far better than you as I am the one in the battle, fighting the fight, 24/7/365. You, my self-centered friend gets to peer into my life for snippets at a time and see a snapshot of something you cannot possibly imagine or understand. So, please let’s allow only those who can see the whole picture the right to judge – and baby that ain’t you.

But Friend, you did get one thing right – I am an idiot.

Because only an idiot remains peaceful when the world tells her to be full of strife. Right? Because only an idiot thinks she is strong enough to face her fears and overcome them when the world says otherwise. Right? Because only an idiot maintains courage in the face of worldly enemies much larger, more numerous than she. Right? Because only an idiot thinks she has the endurance to go the distance when the race lasts much longer than she ever thought possible and the world tells her to quit. Right?

Friend, during “my situation” while trying it your way I also tried it another way. I asked my Heavenly Father for several things – one being to end the situation – but until that He answers that one, and He will, I also asked for a few others. I prayed for Peace during this time instead of the anxiety which was consuming me. I prayed for strength to handle the fears and stress which surrounded me at every turn. I prayed for courage to overcome the enemies that battled my insecurities. And I prayed for endurance to get me through to the end and withstand it all.

Those prayers God has answered. Those prayers are what you saw the fruit of when you saw me looking so “idiotic” the other day. But you were too self-centered to see it and understand it. The sad thing is is that you were one of the people who has said she was praying for just those things for me.

But Friend, I don’t blame you for not seeing. We all run so fast it’s easy to miss the blessings and answered prayers right in front of us. In fact, He’s probably answered a few of yours; you just need to sit still long enough for Him to show you.

So, yes, I am an idiot. I will happily be one until the good Lord brings me home.

And I have you to thank for it.

Love,
Your Idiot Friend Dee

~

The 1st Day of Christmas - January 2009

I am happy to report Jesus had a Merry Happy Birthday indeed this month! I had the inaugural gathering of the 12 Days of Christmas Club last Saturday night. It was the first of 12 birthday parties we will be throwing for Him during 2009. And it was a smashing success if I must say so myself – and I must.

In case you are not familiar with what in the world I’m talking about I wrote a post about this back in December – The 12 Days of Christmas. Jesus is getting a year long Christmas/Birthday celebration in 2009. The gifts will be gifts of ourselves in the form of our time, resources, labor – whatever we can come up with – as a way to give back for the blessings we have all received. And there will be cake.

This month in January, my friends and I chose a church’s ministry which assists the homeless. St. John’s Downtown in downtown Houston assists the homeless in several ways. One of the things they do is provide kits of toiletry items for the men and women to have while out living on the streets. Our group gathered items – toothpaste, toothbrushes, deodorant, soap, lotions, razors, socks, etc. – and made as many kits as we could for the ministry. It was awesome how much stuff just a few open hearts could collect and create.

Then we had birthday cake and sang Happy Birthday. (If you think I’m kidding – I’m not. What kind of birthday party would it have been without cake?) Jesus seemed very happy with His gift - I could tell as He spread His joy all over the room. Check out the pictures below and let me know what you think.

And please, there is always a standing invitation for you to join us or to start doing this in your own town. Our tent is very large and includes everyone.

The 2nd Day of Christmas is not set yet, so if you have an idea for February - a group we could help or a charity that needs some sturdy and able bodies - please let me know!

Dee



Jesus gots lots of gifts this January!



And more gifts!



Putting it all together.



Some of the beautiful members of the 12 Days of Christmas Club.



The CAKE!



More Christmas Clubers anxiously awaiting the eating of the cake.



The wonderful people of St. John's Downtown recieving Jesus' birthday gift of the hygiene kits.

~

A Coarse Correction

Do you ever start looking for something and find something else, get lost in that thing and never get to the original thing you were looking for? Happened to me recently. I can’t even remember what it was I was searching for in the first place. I became so enthralled when I ran across some silver candle sticks – they threw my whole afternoon off. “Where in the world have these been?” (Right here in this cabinet.) “They would look so great on my table!”

Of course, I could not immediately dash to the other room and plop them on my table in a stylish and delightful manner. They were covered in tarnish. “I could swear there were pretty and shiny when I put them away 2,3,4 years ago.” So now you see what took up my whole afternoon. (While I can be poky, it does not take all day for me to walk from one room to another, usually.)

The thing about polishing silver is it takes a lot of elbow grease, as they say. I don’t know what they make tarnish out of but they should paint the space shuttle with it. It is impervious to almost everything. I rubbed so much I thought a genie was going to come out and grant me three wishes. I almost took to using an S.O.S pad to get the black gunk off.

Of course, that would have been too abrasive and ruined the silver. No a softer yet still abrasive cleaner was needed. A coarse sponge finally began to work nicely. The candlesticks began to shine and gleam as their silversmith originally intended. I don’t do this very often so my learning curve was a little larger than maybe most.

Carpenters understand the concept of using abrasion to make something shiny and beautiful. They run into this problem all the time and have it figured out. They use sandpaper.

In the beginning of a project when the wood is raw and splintery a carpenter chooses rough and coarse grain sandpaper. The large grains of the paper remove large chunks, stains and blemishes of the wood. It also exposes the woods beautiful natural grain that was hidden underneath all that.

Toward the end of the project the carpenter will switch to small, finer grain sandpaper. This finer paper blends out and smoothes and polishes the wood until the wood reveals its true inner beauty. The paper is still just abrasive enough to remove some tiny bits of wood but it leaves the piece largely intact as the carpenter has created it. The finer the sandpaper, the prettier the final product.

Like me trying to remove the tarnish, the carpenter cannot shape his wood and make its natural beauty shine through by using a soft cloth. That would merely clean the tarnished candlesticks or wood in its dirty and unusable form. Only after all tarnish is removed or all the fine grain and natural wood beauty revealed is a velvety soft polishing cloth used to care and protect the creation.

It takes a skilled craftsman to know which grain and coarseness of sandpaper to use during which stage of construction. A true carpenter uses the least coarse paper he can to get the job done lest he damage the wood. That is why some antiques are more beautiful than others – the skill of the carpenter the wood was entrusted to.

I don’t plan on becoming an expert silver polisher or tarnish remover. Once every couple of years is a-okay by me. My arm is still worn out. But I am glad there are other’s who readily enjoy the task.

By the way, Jesus was a carpenter. Do you think he knows about this sandpaper thing?

~

The Lone Ranger

The Lone Ranger is a great hero. He went about the West righting wrongs and rounding up outlaws. He saved towns from destruction and heavy-handed rule of a sheriff gone bad. The Lone Ranger – with his mask, silver bullets and trusty steed named Silver – was every town’s protector and every black-hat’s nightmare. He was a rock-star of the old West.

I just have one tiny problem. His name. It’s a misnomer. The Lone Ranger was never lone – he always had his trusted sidekick Tonto at his side. Heck, it was Tonto who saved his life in the first place, thus making it possible for there to be a Lone Ranger.

Tonto was sold so short. Ranger boy gets all the credit when in actuality Tonto did all the heavy lifting. Who tracked the bad guys? Tonto. Who set up the ambush for the Lone Ranger to capture the outlaws? Tonto. Who foils the ambushes set to harm the Ranger? Tonto. Who could hoot like an owl or howl like a coyote to scare the bad guys? Tonto.

But who do the towns-people swarm at the end of each episode? The Lone Ranger. Whose name do they seek to know? The Lone Ranger’s. Who do sheriffs from far and wide seek for help? The Lone Ranger. To whom do the towns people refer when they ask “who was that masked man?” when the Ranger and Tonto ride out of town? The Lone Ranger.

I realize the true reason he is called the Lone Ranger is because he lost his 5 other Texas Ranger buddies in an ambush – making him the lone surviving ranger. (Tonto found him, nursed him to health and now he goes about the West righting wrongs. He hides his identity so the outlaws won’t know one ranger survived.)

But really Tonto should get way more credit than he does. Tonto’s kimosabee (faithful friend) should share the limelight a little. Just once, it would be nice to see the Lone Ranger say to the town folk “Thank you but really, Tonto should get some of the credit too. I could not have done it without him.” But that never happens. Good thing Tonto doesn’t seem to mind.

I don’t know why I am coming down so hard on the Ranger. It’s not like I don’t do the same thing every day. I too have a Sidekick. Like Tonto did for the Lone Ranger, my Sidekick found me sick, weak and a wreck. He nursed me back to health. He literally saved my life. I can tell you the exact moment He did it too. But that is a post for another day. And also like Tonto, since the day He saved my life my Sidekick has never left my side.

Like Tonto, He is my guide and leads me through places where I cannot find my way. (Which is often.) Like Tonto, He takes care of the ambushes Satan has set for me. (Which is a lot.) Like Tonto, my Sidekick is always loving me and forgiving me and having patience with me. (Which is needed a lot.)

But like the Lone Ranger, I don’t reciprocate. I take all the credit. When I am successful or accomplish a goal I guarantee you I didn’t do it on my own. No way, no how. I had lots of Heavenly intervention. My Sidekick was all over it from start to finish. Every talent or skill I have God gave me. The intelligent and wisdom I possess is a gift from Him and what I do with it is a fruit of that. But I rarely admit that in public.

We scoff when we hear athletes say, “I give all the glory to God” after a big win. We roll our eyes when a movie star says while receiving an award, “I dedicate this to my Lord and Savior who made all this possible.” But why? Isn’t that what I am supposed to do – live my live so that it gives glory to God? Then why is it so embarrassing to say a simple public Thank You and a give shout-out to the One who helped me?

I am not a lone ranger. I have a Sidekick. And He deserves all the credit and the glory. I'm not selling Him short anymore. It is time He started getting the credit He so rightly deserves. It's the least I can do for the One who protects me from outlaws.

"Hi-yo, Silver, away!" (Okay, maybe I have a little Lone Ranger in me.)

It's Hard to Be Humble

“Ah, yes, the parallel bars.
“I was known as the Pavlova of the parallels. Oh, yes.
[Starts swinging on the bars.]
“Yes, It’s all coming back now.
[Sings]
“Ah, yes, I remember it. . .
[Loses grip and falls down the stairs smashing a piano]
Aagh! Well, that felt good!”

Like Inspector Clouseau, I too have a special skill acquired in my youth. I can ride a unicycle. A neighbor down the street had one and I fell in love with it. I wanted one so badly. But my Dad would not buy me one unless I first learned how to ride one. Well, that’s kind of a catch 22.

So, the neighbor boy let me borrow his for a few days. I practiced for hours after school. I fell a lot. I had a lot of skinned knees and hands. But by the end of the week I could ride that unicycle with the best of circus clowns. I called my Dad to watch as I rode down the driveway, to the corner (we were the second house in so this was not too far) and back. Ha! I called his bluff and now he had to pay up. That weekend we went to the Schwinn bicycle shop and he bought me a shiny chrome unicycle of my very own.

Flash forward 20 some-odd years to Christmas 2003. The family was celebrating Christmas at my parents’ house and my nieces received a pogo-stick for Christmas. Well, we all had to go out on the driveway to give the stick a try. We had one as kids, so this was a skill I had as well. (I am very skilled at many useless things). There were all sorts of contests and someone went to find the old pogo-stick. We found it and the contests grew more fierce. (If you’ve ever seen grown men try to out pogo each other it is a sad and hilarious sight all at the same time.)

Well, I don’t have to tell you what else was in that closet – my unicycle. A few pumps of air later and I was ready to roll. “Ah, the unicycle. Yes. It’s all coming back now. . .” You know how this story ends. (Childhood skills ain’t all Clouseau and I have in common.) I tried to show(off) to my nieces how to ride a unicycle. I was not on that thing 5 seconds before it went one way and I went another. I think my eyes teared-up before my butt hit the concrete. I tried to pop right up “Aagh, Well, that felt good” Clouseau style. But my pride and my backside were killing me.

A few days later I was putting my blow-dryer away in a bottom drawer and suddenly I could not stand up past 90 degrees. The pain was searing. Have you ever gone to the doctor and on the form where it states “reason for visit” written “unicycle incident”? Humiliating. Not my finest hour. And all because I was being a big shot and showing off.

Luckily, Peter knew better than Clouseau and me. The disciples were in a boat in a storm and afraid. (Matt. 14:25-29) When they saw Jesus, first they thought he was a ghost but after He identified Himself, Peter called to Him and asked Jesus to command him to get out and come to Him. Which Jesus did. Now, Peter, upon realizing it was Jesus, could have just jumped out of the boat saying “See ya!” to the guys, thinking that he could walk on water just because Jesus could.

But Peter didn’t do that. He humbled himself and calmly got out of the boat and walked over to his friend – on the water. If Peter had done it any other way, all proud and sassy, I guarantee you when his feet hit the water he would have sunk like a stone. In fact, he did start to sink when he started to lose faith in Jesus. (Matt.14:30) Peter only had the skill to walk on the water because he was humble and faithful enough to allow Jesus to help him.

Clearly this is advice I could have used that Christmas morning. A humble heart and a little Holy Ghost help would have kept me upright. And my tailbone in tact. Humility – it is a skill I am reminded I need to practice more often every time it gets cold and “the rheumatism” flares up.

Did I mention it was 39 degrees today?

~

The Care Taker

When I was a little girl I was afraid of the dark. After my parents tucked me in at night I would lay awake in my bed and the room would come alive. Shadows would dance across my walls, I heard creaks and groans come from the closet and things definitely went “bump” in the night under my bed.

To slay these demons and calm my fears I would yell for my parents to come check things out. Dutifully, albeit sleepily, either Mom or Dad would come and look in the closet and under the bed. Of course, by the time they got there the monsters had hidden safely back in their lairs, waiting for the all-clear to come back out.

Even worse than my fear of the night-time monsters was my fear of thunder. I hated thunder. Down here in Houston we get lots of thunder storms so fear of thunder can really cramp a girl’s style. I would hear a clap of thunder and run screaming into my parents room and jump into bed between them for safety. (Not really cool when your 14 but hey, death by heart attack ain’t so cool either.) My fears of the dark continued into college where I could not sleep unless both mine and my roommates closet doors were closed. (So sad but true.)

My brothers knew I was afraid of the dark and loved to play on this. One hilarious night (I’m being sarcastic here) when I was in high school we were on vacation in Colorado and they really played it up. The ceiling of the house we were staying in was made with those acoustic tiles you see in office buildings (I didn’t say it was a nice house). After I had gone to sleep they grabbed a tube of toothpaste and lifted a ceiling tile in their room, reached over the wall and lifted a ceiling tile in my room and squirted toothpaste down on me! They wanted to hit me in the face with the toothpaste and scare me to death. Too bad for them they missed. It landed on the pillow beside me, where I thought it was a rat – and scared me too death, which is really pathetic because I heard them doing all this! (I still have not gotten them back for this – but they had better sleep with one eye open.)

Over the years, you would think I would have outgrown my fears of night-time monsters but not so much. Lucky for me, I have added to them with more adult fears and anxieties. These too keep me awake at night at times. These fears are of the world, my life, my future, my problems, for my loved ones, you name it – fear and anxiety comes in all shapes and sizes.

Sometimes my fear and anxiety paralyzes me – emotionally, mentally, physically. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) I can’t crawl into bed with my parents anymore – at my age that would be a tad creepy. So, I have to find a different protector to save me.

Luckily, I do have a Father that asks me to give all my fears, worries and anxieties to Him. Our Heavenly Father asks us to cast our cares on Him and He will sustain us and we will never be moved. (Ps. 55:22) This is wonderful news. As long as we believers trust in Him and cast our cares and worries on Him, God will take care of us and we will never be moved from His grace. I don’t know about you, but I can use all the grace I can get.

I have to admit that I am really good at casting my cares on God but I am not so good at leaving them cast. I find myself taking them back – worrying again, being anxious again, coming up with new things to worry about. The thing is, is that I can’t have it both ways. I can’t ask God to handle my business and then still hold onto it. He doesn’t work that way. Either I handle it or He does – but not both of us. Letting go of the steering wheel is just so scary.

But here’s the thing, the times I have relinquished control, everything worked out fine. The disasters I worried about did not come to pass. The boogie man did not eat me alive, so to speak. The times I have not given up my fears to God, I was miserable, tormented and probably made the situation worse and last much longer than necessary. So here's what I'm going to commit to memory in my head and heart:

“Whenever I am afraid,
I will trust in You.
In God (I will praise His Word),
In God I have put my trust;
I will not fear.
What can flesh do to me?”
(Ps. 56:3-4)

I am slowly learning that when I trust, really trust God as He asks me to a peace washes over me that is amazing. Just like the peace I had when I was little and sleeping between my parents during a thunder storm, when I allow my Heavenly Father to be my Care Taker I can rest in peace safe from life’s storms. What more does a parent want for their child? What more does a child want from a parent?

And I know my Mom and Dad appreciate me having someone else to check the closet in the middle of the night.

~