Getting Dirty Never Felt So Good

A friend of mine loves mornings. Relishes them. She loves rising early while the day is still collecting its breath. She’s always up with the sun welcoming in the day. Sunrises are one of her favorite things. She loves being part of them.

Me, not so much. By the time I awake most days the sun has already kissed the day Hello. I don’t dislike mornings so much as I just try to encounter them on an as-needed basis. Sunrises are special I’ll agree. I have been apart of plenty of them to know that the first light of the day is a beautiful time. I just wish that beautiful time didn’t happen so darn early.

My favorite part of the day is evening. When the world slows down and takes a collective sigh from the long struggles of the day. When the excitement and anticipation for what is next begins to feel palpable. I think it’s also the most beautiful part of the day. Sunrises are beautiful but I have never seen one that can rival a Texas sunset.

Sunsets amaze me. You can watch the sky turn from a soft blue to deep reds, oranges and purples in a matter of minutes. Mix in some cumulus clouds to give the whole thing some height and you have one fabulous work of art.

The fact that the whole thing lasts only minutes is one of the best parts. It is changing right in front of your eyes and literally if you blink you might miss the best part. There is a restaurant near Austin, Texas called The Oasis. It is built on the side of a bluff overlooking a lake. I have been to The Oasis many times but I have never eaten there. The whole point of the place is to come and watch the nightly sunset show over the lake. And it never fails to raise applause from the patrons as the sun dissolves into the horizon.

There is a small fact about sunsets that does make me sad. The prettier the sunset, the dirtier the air. It kills me to think that each night the air that the fading light streams through must be polluted and dirty in order to create something of such beauty. On days when the atmosphere is fresh and clean the sunset is generally a little ho-hum. Still lovely but nothing spectacular. But on a high ozone level day – pow! – get ready, you’re going to see a mighty sight.

It has taken me a while to catch on but I think that’s God whole point of giving us the gift of sunsets. Dirt isn’t so bad. In fact, given the right set of circumstances and conditions, dirt can be made to be down right beautiful.

And that makes me very happy because my life can get very dirty. There are days when I start out feeling so good, confident and fresh but I sure don’t end the day feeling that way. After a day out in the world I can start to feel really beaten up, lose confidence, get angry and short tempered, become selfish and perhaps a little pitiful. I am covered in dirt.

But God is there. He is there ready and willing to take me and my dirt and transform the whole package into a thing of beauty. And He does it day after day after day – just like He does with His precious sunsets.

We are told that all things work together for our good through God for those who love Him. (Rom. 8:28) So I know, am supposed to know but tend to forget at times, that whatever happens to me throughout the course of my day – good or bad – God is working it out for my purpose with Him. I don’t have to struggle against the “dirt” that has invaded my life that day, I just need to give it to Him to take care of and then sit back and watch Him make something beautiful out of it.

And the crazy thing is – I’ve actually experienced Him do it. I have seen God take something I was struggling with, that was causing me much distress and making my life very dirty and transform it into a beautiful situation. All I had to do was let go of trying to fix it myself and let Him have it. Not easy I’ll grant you, but so worth it.

I love sunsets. Perhaps it is because I feel a little kinship in our collective dirt. In the knowing that what could be forgotten or discarded as ugly has been transformed into a thing of beauty.

It’s amazing what God can do with a little dirt.

~

Pitch And Catch

One of the greatest things about summer is baseball. I love baseball. From the surface it is such a simple game of pitch and catch. In reality, it is a game of skill, technique and strategy. The best hitters in the Hall of Fame are only successful three or four times out of every 10 at bats. That shows you how tough the game can be.

Baseball is called “America’s Pastime.” And for good reason. This time of year games are being played by kids of all ages – girls and boys – in every city, town and wide spot in the road. (Well, girls play softball, but it’s still the same.) And Hollywood is in love with baseball as well.

One of my favorite movies is Bull Durham. The movie follows the rising career of Ebby Calvin “Nuke” LaLoosh who plays for the Durham Bulls, a minor league team. Nuke is a pitcher with out of this world potential. The problem is he has no control. One minute he is throwing heaters high and tight over the plate for a strike, the next he sending a loping long one into the stands scattering the crowd.

The team management sensing they have a diamond in the rough that just needs some good strong polish, bring in Crash Davis a major league catcher on his way out of his career. The two men meet at the crossroads of their careers – one on the way up the other on the way down.

Nuke, of course, does not think he needs polish. He thinks his game is just fine. With Crash behind the plate calling pitches Nuke feels reigned in. He wants to throw what he wants to throw. But he has been told to do what ever Crash tells him to do. Eventually, the inevitable happens.

Nuke’s exuberant youth and know-it-allness takes over. Crash calls for a change-up. Nuke wants to throw the heat, a fastball. Nuke shakes off the sign from Crash. Crash gives the change-up sign again. Again, Nuke shakes it off. Crash calls “time-out” and walks to the mound to discuss it with his pitcher. Nuke wins the debate and he gets to throw his heater. But Crash wins the lesson – he informs the batter of what’s coming. The ball leaves the park so fast you’d think it was the Concord and they were selling tickets on it.

Nuke asks Crash if he told the batter what he was throwing and he admits he did. From that day forward whenever Crash calls a pitch-sign we see Nuke’s head nod up and down in an exaggerated “yes” to whatever Crash wants catch. Nuke has learned that his teacher knows best. That perhaps Nuke has the skills to be a great pitcher but his catcher has the know-how to make him one. Nuke has learned a valuable lesson in patience, humility and trust. Nuke listens to his catcher and his dream of making it to the big leagues comes true.

I have been invited to a little game of pitch and catch myself. Unfortunately, I am a bit bull-headed like Nuke. I find myself going along with what my Catcher is advising I pitch but after awhile I get anxious or bored or lack trust or full of myself and just throw what I want. I can’t tell you how badly that has not been working out for me. Completely sleepless nights, anxiety riddled and confusion filled days. My fastballs get hit completely out of the park. Not the making of a big league legend.

God let me in on a not-so-secret secret the other day. I was wondering why I seemed to still be stuck in the same mud I have been in for quite some time, just wearing different shoes, and He let me know it was because I didn’t trust that He would take care of me. I said I did, but I didn’t act like it. That if I take His advice and I just trust and relax, really relax into Him His way I will make perfect pitches every time. I just need to nod an exaggerated “yes” up and down to His plan and I will be fabulously alright. Just like Nuke, I will see my game turn around and make it to the big leagues.

Who knew you could learn so much from a simple game of pitch and catch? I told you baseball was great.

~

Fall Into The Gap

Gap-toothed and buck-teethed. That was me growing up. And not in a Lauren Hutton-beauty sort of way. But rather a close-your-mouth-when-you-smile sort of way. (Well that’s what my brothers usually said.) Thank heaven some smart dentist-come-orthodontist invented braces.

However before I could get the braces I needed some work so the braces could fit. I had to have 6 teeth pulled. Six! All at once. I didn’t even know I had that many to pull. I was probably twelve at the time and had never given my mouth much thought but the thought now of losing six teeth in one sitting was rather daunting.

That was just the beginning. The real work was to close the gap between my two front teeth. For that to happen required more than just pulling teeth and installing braces. The muscle between my front teeth needed to be removed. Let me stop right here and say I am a rather svelte gal. I don’t have much in the way of muscles. However, it appears I was blessed with only one oversized muscle in my whole body and God put it right between my two front teeth. Just my luck.

I won’t bore you with details of the procedure – but the laughing gas is always the best part of any dental office trip. Mother picked me up when it was all said and done and took me home. Now all I would have to do before getting the braces to straighten my teeth was recover from the teeth pulling and muscle removing – and my well meaning Mother.

It seems the dentist failed to mention to Mother that stitches had been sown into my gums and roof of my mouth. And I certainly didn’t know, I was still numb. Mom not realizing this and seeing something hanging from my numb lip tried to remove it. I’m not sure which of us turned whiter and more faint when we realized what she had pulled.

With that little obstacle overcome my gap was gone and in a matter of a few years when the braces too were gone I would have a regular, presentable smile.  Ahh, the things we go through to avoid unsightly gaps. 

Gaps. We call them ugly. We close them. We fill them in.  We build bridges over them. As we age we fill the ones we find on our faces. In England we are told to “mind the gap” when getting on or off the underground to avoid getting hurt. We find them between ourselves and others after disagreements or long periods of time apart.  Besides the Grand Canyon I've rarely come across one I was happy to find. 

I'm not sure it needs to be that way.

We don’t have to be afraid of gaps.  In fact, I think falling into them is the reason they are put in our way. We have a Safety Net that is always in each and every gap we come to. We have a Protector who is taking care of us as we fall or try to ford the gap. We are to do whatever is called for by the particular gap we face and Jesus will fill in the gap by doing what we cannot do. Together we get to the other side.

That is exactly what God told Moses.  God commanded Moses to go to Egypt and talk to the king to allow the children of Israel out of Egypt and in return the Lord will give the people of Egypt favor.  (Ex. 3:10)  Moses was worried.  He knew there was no way the king of Egypt was going to listen to him and let the Israelites go.  Pharaoh was not going to believe that Moses had talked to the Lord and told Moses to go on this journey and even if He had, Moses knew there was no way the king was going to listen to him. (Ex. 4:1) 

Moses had a problem.  He was standing at a gap.  He was given a task, but one he didn't have the tools or skills to complete.  Failure was more than a real possibility if he attempted it on his own.  Luckily, Moses didn't go it on his own.  He knew not to ford the gap - to approach Pharaoh - on his own.  Moses was honest, he put his pride down, he told God he was not an eloquent man, he was slow of speech, he was going to need help figuring out what to say.  Could the Lord offer him some assistance?  (Ex. 4:10)

That's when God did for Moses what He does for all of us and filled Moses' gap - God told Moses, "Who made man's mouth? Or who makes the mute, the deaf, the seeing, or the blind? Have not I, the Lord?  Now therefore, go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what to say."  (Ex.4:11-12). 

No one has to walk this earth alone. Some choose to but no one has to. It can be treacherous from time to time and there will be gaps along the way. Some small, some cavernous. I for one, sometimes forget to look where I am going so gaps can be a real problem for me. I’m glad I have Someone to “mind the gap” for me.  And I take a lesson from Moses, to let go of my pride and ask for assistance when approaching a gap.  But when I do what I can and let God do what He can, that grand canyon sized problem ain't nothin but a crack in the sidewalk. 

And that gives me something to really smile about – gap-toothed and all.

~

Hooray for Mothers!

While doing my morning calisthenics today, I think I pulled my Gratitude muscle! 

Happy Mother's Day to you if you are a Mother, have or had a Mother or ever met a Mother! 

To my Mom - I love you - huge.  Thank you for loving me.  You have made all the difference.  XO

~Deesie

Flying High

I love birds. They are beautiful, majestic and can do something I can’t – fly. I love them so much and find them so fabulous that I have owned many during the course of my life. Currently, I own a wonderful little Sun Conure named Captain Morgan. Well, it’s more accurate to say he owns me.

“Captain” is a small little guy from the parrot family. He is bright orange and yellow with green and blue on his wings and tail. He’s a conure but he thinks he’s a condor and he has the vocal chords to prove it.

I don’t have his wings clipped because he loves to zoom around the house flying when I let him out of his cage when I’m at home. He loves the freedom of flying. And I love to watch him fly. I can see the full color of his feathers and watch him as he charges about doing what he was built to do. (It brings my dog Gracie joy to as she tries to jump up and grab him but as he is generally 10 feet in the air Captain is quite safe.)

Recently Captain Morgan was sneezing a bit so off to his vet we went only to discover he had an upper respiratory infection. (Bird sneezes are devastatingly cute, by the way.) A course of oral antibiotics was ordered that would clear it up in a week or two. Trouble was I was going to have to give ‘ol Cap’t his liquid medicine twice a day for two weeks. Not an easy task when a bird has full flight.

To make my job easier the vet offered to clip a few feathers on each wing so Morgan would be easier to catch and wrap in a towel and medicate. Great idea, or so I thought.

Generally speaking clipping a bird's wings makes it harder for the bird to gain lift. The bird can usually glide a bit and it slows them down but the bird cannot gain altitude. Thus it is easy to catch them should they try an ill advised escape.

Not so much with my Captain. His clip job seemed to make him more aerodynamic. It actually made him faster and I think he made sharper turns and pivots. What was supposed to bring him down to earth, what I thought was an obstacle; he turned around and used his skills to exploit and use it to take him to greater heights. And I think he was having more fun than ever.

What the vet did for Captain, God did me. But while Captain recognized right away that his clipped wings didn’t mean he had to be grounded but instead he could fly better and faster, I did not learn my lesson so quickly.

God takes us through seasons of change or stillness or allows trouble to come all as part of our growth and walk with Him. There will be times when we are flying high and He will intentionally clip our wings. Not so He can watch us fall but so that we will draw closer to Him as we figure out that we can now actually fly better and faster than before.

I got my wings clipped pretty severally over two years ago. And for a while all I could focus on was what happened – losing my job. But I had to stop letting that define me. That is not who I was, it was just something that had to be dealt with. And while there were very dark days God had me in His hand the entire time taking me through my journey.

God promises that when He “clips” our wings that if we wait on Him, our strength will be renewed; we will mount up with “wings like eagles” and we shall run and not be weary and walk and not faint. (Is. 40:31) I for one can attest that I have more strength today than I ever thought I did two years ago before God started me down this road. Things I thought would wear me out or literally kill me did not. God is the only reason why.

If you have ever seen an eagle fly you know they very rarely flap their wings once aloft. Once airborne the eagle just rides the current, gliding ever higher and higher. Not struggling or straining to reach his soaring heights. That is what God is trying to do for us when he clips our wings and replaces them with the wings of eagles - watching us soar to glorious new heights in our full color splendor as He proudly rejoices.

No doubt clipping hurts. But sometimes that's the only way God can get us where He wants us to be. Doing what we were built to do. Flying high.

Captain better watch out, once I get the hang of my new wings I just might challenge him to a race.

~

The Lyricist

I love singing along with the songs on the radio. If I turn the volume up loud enough I sound really good too. I am very bad at knowing the names of songs or who the group or singer is but regardless when I hear a song I know and love I can’t help but join the band.

I addition to getting the title of the song and the name of the band wrong from time to time I might also get the lyrics wrong. This is not much of a problem when I am alone in my car. In fact, I think that my lyrics are at times an improvement over some of the words coming out of my woofers and tweeters.

Where this does present a problem is in a group setting particularly when I am not aware of the fact that I am in fact singing the wrong words. Case in point, when I was a teenager I was on a family car trip through some western states one summer. Somewhere along the way we procured a copy of an England Dan and John Ford Coley cassette tape. (Remember tapes?)

It was a great album. Every song was terrific and made you just want to sing along, which thank you very much I did along with the rest of my family, parents included. That is of course until the song “I’d Really Love To See You Tonight” came on. We were somewhere in northern New Mexico having a fine family sing-a-long when in my best seventies hippie rocker I belt out “I’m not talking about the linen…”

Without warning I hear laughter coming at me from all sides (middle children like me always had to sit in the middle). The comments were flying “What did you say?? What was That? The linen? What does that even mean? It’s not linen you fool, its Moving In – I’m not talking about moving in.”

The kidding and ribbing was endless. And this was just from mom and dad – I don’t even want to get into what my brothers had to say. And oh, did I mention, my older brother had his girlfriend with us? Beyond humiliating. I tried to explain why I thought “linen” would have worked in the song but there were no buyers for the story I was selling.

I wanted to die. Well, for about two seconds, then I too thought it was hilarious. I cannot listen to that song and not hear “linen” try as I might to hear the right lyrics. And every time it brings a big smile to my face.

I would like to think I learned something from that little lesson – I did - I only sing in private now. However, that has not cured my “lyric” problem. In fact it happened just this week, and its only Tuesday.

I was singing a song – alone in my car. One I’ve heard and sung dozens and dozens of times. I turn it up each time I do and regularly sing along. Yesterday I was singing right along and was just so joyous as I belted out “heroes conquered the grave…”

Suddenly, I was back in that family car driving through New Mexico – “Heroes? What does that even mean? It’s not heroes you fool, its He Rose – He rose and conquered the grave!” I started laughing so hard at myself at this realization. Of course the song makes much more sense that way. When I pulled in to park I had to clean the mascara off my cheeks before I went inside. I know God was having a good ‘ol laugh at that one too.

But the more I think about it my version works just fine. My Hero did conquer the grave. Jesus is my Hero. He overcame death. Death. Don’t know about you, but I consider that a big damn deal. And He did it for me; foolish ‘ol me (and you).

My Hero, He rose. And because He did I get to conquer the world of my dreams. Now that is something I could really sing about.

~

It's A Very Good Friday

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life."

John 3:16
~

Calisthenics

I grew up in the era of Jack LaLanne. I would watch him all the time as a child growing up. There he’d be next to his chair in his dark, taught work-out outfit; long pants mind you, no Richard Simmons-type shorts in those days, coaching me through simple calisthenic exercises. He’d get the viewer involved in jumping jacks, sit-ups, knee bends, push-ups and all kinds of things.

I really like Jack, I’m just not built for his line of work. I am not a graceful person. I’m lanky and long and rather clumsy. When I jog I cramp in all the places a person can cramp – sides, thighs, calves, even feet. When I ride my bike my lungs go on strike. You’d think I was a 5-pack a-day smoker for how often I have to stop and catch my breath some days. As for pull-ups and push-ups if I get past two or three someone get me a Gold medal.

I wasn’t always like this. In high school I was on the varsity basketball team. Mind you I was not first string, I hadn’t hit my growth spurt yet, but I was out there every practice and every game giving it my best. I played softball growing up too. While I never could hit the ball out of the park I was a darn good catcher and left fielder. Almost caught a fly ball for an out once. Swimming, though, was my real forte’ growing up and I have lots of third and fourth place ribbons to prove it.

As we can all see, I have no real sporting skills. I never have. But what I lacked in skill I more than made up for in desire. I was there at every practice for my soccer, softball, and basketball or swim team. To me the end result of winning was important but also as important as was the companionship and camaraderie of being on a team. Of pursuing a common goal, trying to accomplish something together.

As I grew up exercise no longer came in the form of fun group, team activities. Exercise for adults is mostly a solo affair. And solo exercise is boring exercise. What made exercising with Jack LaLanne on TV fun was Jack LaLanne. You didn’t feel like you were by yourself. That’s why people join gyms, so they don’t have to exercise alone. That’s also why people who buy home exercise equipment find they use it more for a clothes rack than a treadmill – it’s too boring to run indoors alone.

Somewhere along the way I simply stopped exercising in any systematic way. And that’s not good. Exercise is good for the body as well as the heart, mind and spirit. I do feel so much better after I exercise, even just a little exercise. So I made a New Year’s resolution. I resolved in the New Year to exercise every day. I am here to report so far so good.

Things have been going so well that I pumped it up a notch and I now exercise twice every day. It is fabulous and has had a profound change on my body, heart, mind and spirit.

Every morning, first thing, before I get dressed, before I turn on the news, before I let out the dog, before I have coffee I do my first exercise of the day – one deep knee bend. Some mornings the knee bend is quick, just a minute or two. Some mornings it’s a little longer. Whatever is required to give my body, heart, mind and spirit the exercise it needs that morning. Mostly, it is a moment to give praise for the day ahead.

At bed time, after I’ve closed down the house, finished playing with my animals and turned off the lights I do my last exercise routine of the day – one last deep knee bend. Again it may be a quick minute or two or a little longer depending on the events of the day and the needs of my heart, mind and spirit. Mostly, this is a time to say Thank You for the day I was just given.

The thing I like best is I don’t do my exercises alone. I have an Exercise Partner, sort of a Jack LaLanne type, with me guiding me, listening to me, encouraging me and just being with me while I’m doing my deep knee bends. Afterwards, during my cool-down and throughout the rest of the day or night my Exercise Partner is still with me.

And it doesn't matter how long I do my deep knee bends or what I say when I'm doing it. The important thing to my Exercise Partner is that I try, that I have the desire to spend just a bit of my day with Him before things get going and again at the close of the day I pause to reconnect. It's the intent that matters most, not the form. Which is great for a clumsy girl like me.

Exercising with my Partner is wonderful. It helps me to feel as if I’m back on a team working towards a common purpose or goal. Which in a way I am. My outlook is brighter; my heart is lighter; I walk taller and straighter; my gaze is higher and no longer downward.

Doing these deep knee bends every day, giving praise and thanks, helps me realize I’m not alone, it’s not me against the world. I have a Partner who is with me every step of the way. And that step starts with the first one I take in the morning and doesn’t stop even as I take my last as I climb into bed.

Exercise – turns out the simpler the better. Jack would be so proud.
~

Party Crasher

I consider myself to be quite a good hostess. I always try to put my best foot forward and make my guests feel right at home. I don’t throw a lot of parties but when I do they are usually something special.

I only have a couple of party rules – show up on time, leave on time (just ask the guests I once politely asked to leave while I brandished a golf club. Hey, when the invite says 7-10, I don’t mean 10:30), and if you’re not on the guest list you don’t get in (just ask the famous rock band I once escorted out of my house. Hey, I didn’t know who they were.)

Parties are fun because when you put a varied mix of people together you never know what might take place. All sorts of conversations and interesting things can happen. I have never thrown a party that turned out exactly like I thought it would. And that, I think, is the great thing about them. Their unpredictability.

Take the party I threw this weekend. I had a totally different theme and plan in mind. But once the guests started showing up the party sort of took on a life of its own.

The first guest to arrive was Grief. He is a big guy and we sat down for a big old chat. I had seen him rather recently and was not expecting to see him again so soon, but I guess he had some extra room on his schedule. Then Anger showed up, followed by Doubt and her sister Unbelief. Man, things were getting crowed over by the queso dip. The guests all seemed to know each other and things started rocking along.

Anger and Doubt were having a great conversation about the state of things. About how God never kicked people when they were down in any of the Gospels. Jesus always made the people He ran into better and helped them get to where they were going. He certainly didn’t leave them as He found them. So why does He seem to have changed His MO?

Grief and Unbelief were boogieing down to some great tunes on karaoke. One of my favorites was “Broken Dreams.” Grief then did this great solo of “Apparently Prayers Don’t Matter.” This was turning out to be one of my best parties of all time.

Wouldn’t you know it, just as my Pity Party was getting hot this Party Crasher shows up. Before I can shut the door on Him, He waltzes right in and gets comfy in my big leather chair. Then He looks me right in the eye and says, “What about Joseph?”

“What about Joseph?” I shoot back. “He had a colorful coat. Besides, like You, he’s not invited.”

“What about Joseph?” Party Crasher annoyingly repeats.

“Well, he had a dream or two. He told his brothers about it. They didn’t like him anyway and this made them really mad so they threw him in a well, then sold him into slavery and tore his coat and dipped it in goat’s blood and told his dad he was dead. Then while in slavery, his master’s wife lied about him and he was wrongly thrown into prison for years. While a prisoner, he helped a fellow prisoner who got out early and that guy forgot about Joseph. And Joseph continues to linger in prison for years. Looks like God forgot about him and his dreams too.” I said triumphantly.

“What about Joseph?” Party Crasher-repeater repeats.

“Well, if you must know, the former prisoner finally remembers Joseph. Tells the Pharaoh about him. Pharaoh gets Joseph out of prison. Joseph interprets a dream for Pharaoh and saves Egypt from a massive famine. Pharaoh puts Joseph in charge of all the land of Egypt. Joseph is now the number two person in authority in Egypt.” I told Him.

“What about Joseph?” Party Crasher asks without a hint of wryness.

“As I’m sure You know,” I said exasperatingly, “Joseph is reunited with his brothers when they come to Egypt during the famine to buy grain, which Joseph wisely had Egypt store during the prosperous years. His brothers do not recognize him at first. When he finally reveals himself they are terrified at what he might do to them as he is so powerful. Amazingly, Joseph is not angry with them. He tells them it is God that brought him to this place not them. What happened to him was so that he could be in a position to save the people of Egypt. God has used the bad for good.”

“What about Joseph?” Party Crasher asks one last time.

“All his dreams came true.” I finish slowly.

And with that, Party Crasher smiles and leaves.

As I return to my party, I realize my guests Grief, Anger, Doubt and Unbelief have all left. Instead I find Peace, Joy, Hope and Faith crowded around my table enjoying some home baked cookies and a hearty laugh. No need to chase any guest away with my golf club this time.

This just might be my greatest party of all time.
 ~

The Price Is Right

I am not a numismatist but I do enjoy coins. Coins give you a little glimpse into history if you study them. A US coin has the year it was minted, a letter referencing the city in which it was minted and the profile of one of our countries historical figures.

Coins are not static either. Ours keep changing. Take the penny. It once had a “wheat” back. On its reverse side there were two wheat fronds where now there is a relief of Lincoln’s Memorial. Even the nickel has evolved over time – once having an Indian head and a buffalo. Now it has Thomas Jefferson. And recently even Jefferson got a new look on his nickel.

Because I am so crazy for coins, I pick them up wherever I find them. I realize most are not worth too much – unless I happen upon a silver dollar, which never happens – but nonetheless I always stop, stoop and scoop up the lost coin.

I was recently walking through a parking lot with a friend when I happened upon an errant penny. I stopped to reclaim it and my friend turned and wondered aloud what I was up to. I told her I had found a penny and was picking it up. She told me “Yuck! Look at it. It’s gross and disgustingly dirty. Drop it!”

“No way,” I told her. I always pick up lost pennies and such, no matter how dirty. Money is money. It spends just the same clean or dirty. Coins and money are like that – they never lose their value. A penny is worth one cent no matter if it is a shiny new 2010 penny or an old, dirty, oil stained 1974 penny reclaimed from a parking lot. And lots of times they go up in value.

Too bad I’m not a coin or other type of money that never loses my value. Because there are days when I know I am completely worthless. Truth be told I’ve been feeling a lot like that these past months and year (or two (or forty)).

You ever have those seasons? Where everything you do or touch just wilts or withers? Every time you turn around someone else is getting your promotion? Your “atta girl”? Your breakthrough? You start off feeling pretty good, pretty worthwhile but endure a long, dry season and you and I can wind up feeling pretty empty and worthless. And I don’t know a feeling much worse than worthless.

I was having just that feeling the other day, feeling down and out, when I was cleaning up a grimy penny with some soap and water and old tooth brush. (I am a nerd that way.) That’s when God hit me right where it counts – I’m just like my grimy penny.

I’m not worth less just because I’ve been beat up a bit. I may not feel my value or worth but that does not mean I’m not priceless. I’m still as valuable as the day He breathed life into me. God helped me to understand that the Creator of the universe also created me and it’s an all out impossibility for me to lose value. Ever.

He showed me my value is not based on my bank account, my job description, my address, my relationship status or any other man-made criteria. My value is solely based on who I am in Him. I am just as worthy naked and penniless and standing on a corner as I am fully decked out in Armani, with millions in the bank and sitting in a penthouse suite. It’s Who made me that matters not what I have made of myself.

God put talents and gifts into me the day He thought me into existence. He put me together in such a way that He didn’t do for anyone else. He did the same for you that He didn’t recreate in me or anyone else. We are each a “masterpiece” of God. (EPH. 2:10). By definition masterpiece means one-of-a-kind. Priceless. God’s masterpiece does not depend on man’s definition of worth.

I am valuable but like my penny I am a bit grimy. There is only one thing left for me to do – allow God to take His soap and water and old tooth brush (He probably uses a new one) and clean the gunk and grime off of me and restore me.

Like coins, I‘m not static and I have changed and evolved over time. If you study me, especially the lines in my forty-mumble face, you can learn a bit of my history. And luckily, so too like coins, you and I have worth that far exceeds our face-value.

God minted each of us that way.