Busted on the Bottom

I failed a “mystery shop” on the job last week.

The company routinely sends “secret shoppers” throughout the store to ensure that all employees are doing their jobs in the prescribed manner, and as part of that procedure a shopper came through my checkout lane to have her order processed. Apparently I failed to ask a required question, offering my assistance with any items on the bottom of the bascart.

It wasn’t just a personal failure; it affected the score for the entire store. Although they were all very nice about it, several superiors, including the store manager herself, mentioned it to me. Conscientious though I am about asking the question, I clearly didn’t do so this one time that counted, and so had to sign a write up for the incident, indicating that I understood the requirement was that I ask the BOB question every time a shopper comes through my line. Simple though my job is, I enjoy it tremendously and it’s important to me that I do it well. I was crushed.

My boss had mentioned that I’d been working with a particular bagger at the time, one who is a special friend and with whom I’ve received great ratings in the past. When I told her later what had happened this time around, her eyes widened in surprise and she said, “I remember that order! Don’t you?! You said, ‘I forgot to ask that lady the bottom-of-the-bascart question. She’s probably the mystery shopper.’”!

Suddenly I did remember saying those very words, and could’ve kicked myself for speaking the situation out of my own mouth! Perhaps you’re thinking that the shopper in question would’ve been the examiner whether I’d verbally declared her to be so or not, and while that’s very likely the case, the irony of the situation made me laugh, which at least made me feel better about things as I went on with my day.

For some reason, failures are easier to bear when they have a lesson attached to them in some way, and I found that the value in this episode had nothing to do with the grocery store at all. It was the activity of my tongue which was in question. Words of wisdom found in Proverbs 18:21 came quickly to mind: “Death and life are in the power of the tongue…” Simply put, our words matter, and what we verbally declare over our loved ones, our lives, and ourselves affects our future more than we can possibly imagine.

Discouragement followed that thought, as I felt unable to watch every word that comes out of my mouth, so often do they come out almost without conscious thought. Clearly that is what God wants to change. Just as quickly did I realize that I am unable to right the situation on my own; He simply has to help me. I pray daily that God would place a guard over what comes out of my mouth; perhaps opening my eyes to the problem in such a creative way is the first step in that very process.

But it’s not always the words that come out of my mouth that are the problem; as in the shopping scenario described above, often it’s the words that don’t. There are many times apart from when I’m behind a cash register that I think of questions I should but don’t ask. For example, I sometimes avoid asking, “What’s going on?” to a person I’m afraid might just tell me when I’m short on time or interest. I might leave out the necessary, “Can I pray for you?” at the end of some such recitals, for fear of attracting too much attention or embarrassing the confidant. And my reluctance sometimes to ask, “Do you know Jesus?” makes me wonder at times if I really do, either. And yet I know that life is found in the power of the tongue that leads people into a relationship with God.

The paragraphs above were already typed into the computer when God penned a special postscript to them a few days later. Once again I was at work and had just thanked a family for shopping with us when I saw them head to the customer service desk instead of out the door. I hoped it was only my imagination when I heard my name mentioned, but my heart sank when I saw an assistant store manager approach my check lane a short time later to pull me aside and speak to me privately.

“A complaint has been filed against you,” he began, “but before we talk about it I just want to say thank you.” Thoroughly confused, I could only look at him for an explanation. Thankfully, this time I had remembered to ask the shoppers about the bottom of their cart (whew!), but the question had offended them. They thought I was insinuating that they were trying to steal something and wanted to assure the management that they’d never stolen anything before and didn’t plan to start now. Quickly it was explained to them that asking the question is company policy in an attempt to stem the flow of unpurchased stock left unnoticed on the bottom of the carts, a loss due more to simple employee inattention than suspected customer theft.

Similarly there are times when people will react negatively to questions God wants us to ask. Their response does not negate the need to ask the question; it only indicates a lack of understanding of God’s purposes and a misjudgment on the intent of His heart. He wants the door to communication with Him to be opened, whether the subjects choose to walk through it or slam it shut. My job is simply to open the conversation.

My bagger friend was bothered to find that the failure with the BOB question was still on my mind a few days after the fact. We both know that there will be many more mystery shops and ample opportunities to ask all the right questions. But that is not necessarily the case with people whom God brings across my path on a day-to-day basis. Only He knows what their future holds, what they might be contemplating or what might happen to them the minute they walk again out of my life. My silence in that scenario might have consequences far more serious than a simple write up in my file.

How like God that He got my attention on a matter He wanted to discuss by weaving it into something that is very important to me - the pride and joy I take in my job. He reminds me that He did so only because it concerns something that is very important to Him - the pride and joy He takes in me.

“ …‘My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes everyone he accepts as a son.’”

(Hebrews 12: 5-6 NIV)

Caffeinated Comfort

"Take comfort in rituals."

That simple message on the door to the local Starbucks coffee outlet stopped me for a minute before I smiled to myself and pushed it open to do just that. Picking up a coffee treat and maybe even a baked snack to take with me on my monthly visit to the nearby state park is a ritual I’ve found comfort in for more years than I care to count. And far from getting bored with the routine, I find myself enjoying it more and more as the months and years I indulge in it continue to mount.

Many in my circle of family and friends believe that my life is dominated by “rules” I’ve made for myself that dictate my activities and supposedly limit my freedom to live life as I please. But I consider them merely guidelines I follow for healthy and happy living, and include among them some time-tested experiences that have brought me enough joy in days gone by to be repeated on a regular basis. And it seems to me that I accumulate more of them all the time. 

I’ve come to realize that an unfortunate number of them center around food (high on the list are coffee treats on my days off and breakfast-with-a-friend at any and every opportunity) and are a big part of the reason I find it difficult to diet. But just as many are simply activities I engage in regularly to break the monotony of daily living and ensure that I‘m adding some zest and joy of life to my existence on a regular basis. They are as necessary to my mental and physical health as any of my various doctor appointments, and I find that I keep them with greater regularity and determination. In fact, I have to purposely schedule the less-pleasant duties of life into the hours of my day or I’d simply spend all my free time having fun.

I sometimes wonder if the items on my list are nothing more than selfish indulgences I allow myself, or if there is really something more to them than that. The word comfort in the message on the door is what caught my attention earlier in the day. Take comfort in rituals, it read. Perhaps the reason I’m increasingly devoted to my “rituals” is that my heart needs more comforting now than in days gone by.

It was as I was settling back in my car that morning, my coffee steaming in the cup holder beside me and a slice of lemon pound cake carefully wrapped in a white bag by my side, that I spotted a frail and sickly-looking woman heading for the coffee bar I’d just exited. Her head wrapped in a turban that seemed to indicate the absence of hair, I imagined her to be in the midst of cancer treatments of some sort. My eyes followed her painfully slow progress across the street and I could feel in my own arms the effort it cost her to push open the door, but with purpose and determination she made her way inside. I was struck by her commitment to a caffeine-related ritual she was clearly taking comfort in…an act of defiance perhaps against this disease that was threatening her, or an attempt to bring some sense of normalcy to a life spinning rapidly out of control. I hoped she’d find pleasure in her action despite possibly drug-disordered taste buds and uncertain stomach stability. Perhaps of all the treatments she was enduring, this devotion to her routine was the most beneficial of all. Inspired by her courage I continued with the morning I’d planned and appreciated it all the more.

We live in desperate times of economic uncertainty, worldwide unrest and the threat of terror on every level of our lives. We deal with everything from day to day details that are disrupted by minor disturbances, to adjusting to more momentous life changes, to coping with life-threatening health scares or natural disasters of one type or another. Is it any wonder our hearts reach for comfort whenever and wherever they can find it?

Perhaps that’s why Jesus advised us to take comfort in some simple practices that were to be repeated on a regular basis…rituals if you will… that He knew we’d not only take pleasure in when our lives were going well, but that would be especially helpful to our hurting hearts when times were tough. They range from the simple but overwhelmingly powerful practice of prayer, talking to God about everything from joys to sorrows, worries to wonders, questions to complaints…to reading His Word and finding peace in the sound of His voice… to gathering together for encouragement and inspiration on at least a weekly basis. 

Perhaps it’s my attraction to food that draws me to one other ritual in particular, that of sharing communion with one another in remembrance of Him. What greater comfort can there be than to partake of the bread and fruit of the grape together, remembering what Jesus has done for us in the past and His promise of an eternity of fellowship with Him in the future? In a way it’s a reminder to include Him in every activity, to be aware of His presence in our hearts now and to remember that we are never alone in any of the circumstances we find ourselves, whatever their nature. There is no greater peace than that found in the presence of our Shepherd and King.

So devote yourself wholeheartedly to whatever life celebrations you’ve established…just remember to invite your Savior to savor them with you. And if you haven’t yet developed any special rituals of your own, perhaps it’s time to begin.

Starbucks is simply a great place to start. 

“And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.’”

(Luke 22:19)

Frozen Futures

Baby, it’s cold outside!

More than just the last line to a song I heard multiple times this past holiday season, those words describe a December hailed by the local news media as the third coldest/snowiest on record for our area. I didn’t need to hear it from the weatherman, however, to know it was true. And while I was at work one particularly bitter cold night, I felt winter’s icy blast each time the grocery store doors opened to let shivering customers in, some of whom were still shaking with cold and visibly chattering teeth when they left again a few minutes later.

I saw the frost heavy on my car even as I approached it at the end of my shift, and couldn’t wait to get inside and turn the heat on high. But I was stymied by a problem I’d never encountered before. I slid the key in the lock, but it refused to turn and open the I door! Fighting the overwhelming cold and my mounting confusion, I repeated the process again and again without any luck. The door lock was simply frozen shut.

My remote control had been lost in a sledding adventure a week or so earlier, so the only way to get inside the vehicle was by direct key entry on the driver’s side door. The trunk opened fine, and I briefly considered trying to wiggle through the crawl space between the trunk and back seat. A quick test showed that even that had to opened from the inside. It was time to holler for help.

Called for advice and assistance, my husband suggested heating the key with a lighter. A non-smoker myself, I hurried back into the store to purchase one and ran the flame over the key repeatedly before inserting it again into the lock. Despite repeated attempts, there was no change in my situation; I was still denied entry.

Surely there was some kind of door-lock de-icer on the shelves of the grocery store I’d just exited for the second time, but back inside once more I looked in vain for any such item. Out of luck and hope and very near tears, there was nothing else to do but call my husband for a ride home and wait there for the spring thaw. His favorite football team was in the fourth quarter of a playoff bid; the last thing he’d want to do is get in the car to come and get me. I clutched the key tightly in my right hand as I walked back to the car, holding the phone to my ear with my left. As I delivered the bad news I stuck it in the lock one final time, tried to turn it…and finally it moved! Holding the key in the palm of my hand must’ve warmed it sufficiently to unfreeze the lock when it was stuck in the slot. The button popped up, the door opened, and my long-suffering spouse was hard put to say which pleased him more, that his team had just won their game or that his rescue mission was cancelled. I hurried on home.

I’m reminded that we as people are locked out of a lot more than just cars. The world is a cold place in these days of economic struggle and emotional discouragement. We find ourselves unable to open doors that seem to be locked to employment we need, to relationships we long for with family members or would-be lovers, to success as defined in as many different ways as there are people to populate the planet. In our distress we look to external avenues of help…people we can lean on, products we can buy to assist us, or plans and advice from others outside the situation. Heaven knows we might even turn to prayer, hopefully as a first resort, but possibly even a last. And when we do so, perhaps it’s then we’ll realize as I eventually did that I really didn’t need to engage in any of the earlier options. The key to solving my problem was already in my hand. I just hadn’t yet realized that fact or the power it contained.

Our lives seem to run smoothly along on autopilot most of the time until we hit a roadblock of some kind, and in our distress we forget that in most cases we already possess what we need to succeed. The Bible is full of stories of the same. Again and again God solved the problems of His people by directing them to look at what they held in their hands. A quick review shows that He placed everything from ministry tools to miracles to the makings of the same within their grasp. And once their attention was focused in that direction, they found victory there also.

We can do the same. The next time we run into a door that won’t open we can take a minute to really evaluate the options before us and the giftings within us. Many times we’ll find that God has already given us a word on the situation that we haven’t acted upon, placed a talent within us that we haven’t yet developed, or given us the resources to meet a need in a form we hadn’t previously considered. Above all else we can rely on faith, hope, trust, and love - small words that move mountains so much more stubborn and frozen in place than any locking mechanism I might find on my car.

One final thought about the lock that wouldn’t budge. When I first inserted the key into the slot and found that it wouldn’t move, I couldn’t remember which way it was supposed to turn. I was afraid to force it in either direction for fear the key would snap, just like my emotions were about to. Likewise in life when we’re confused about which way to go and are reluctant to move at all for fear of worsening the situation, perhaps what we need most is to remember that we’re held in the palm of God’s hand, and looking to Him for help is always a turn in the right direction.

“For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand. O that today you would hearken to his voice!”

(Psalm 95:7 RSV)

Fast Food Freebie

Ali’s eyes went wide with surprise once again as she told me what had happened to her the night before. She pulled up to the window to pay for her supper at the local McDonald’s only to be told that the bill had been covered by a lady in the other drive-thru lane, a woman who merely wanted to wish her a Merry Christmas and give her a small card bearing the name of a local church.

It took her a minute or two to gather herself before she was able to grab her bag of food and move on out of the way. Genuinely shocked but pleasantly surprised, she immediately called her boyfriend to tell him about the blessing she’d received. She told him it was only seven dollars, but honestly, who does that kind of thing in December, with the economy bad, money tight, and everybody hanging on to the few dollar bills they’ve got to bless their own families with at Christmas? The impact of that simple gesture was still clearly visible as she told me about the incident at work the next day.

I smiled as I listened, excited to hear the story of a woman who had discovered the secret to living above her means. That last four-word phrase bears a negative connotation in the worldly economics of our everyday lives. In that frame of reference it means living in a style beyond what one can afford financially, and generally ends in financial ruin and heartbreak. Yet in Kingdom economics it has a totally different meaning and outcome, a description of living in the abundance, blessing and favor of God, a place we all long to be. Ali’s benefactor left us some clues as to how to get there.

It begins, of course with a relationship with God. While there are many people who make their fortunes on their own, we can’t live in the blessings of God without first believing that He exists and then understanding that He loves each of us individually and longs to fill our lives with His gifts and the good plans that He has for us. A true indication that a divine connection has been made is the change in our hearts and mental attitudes, a shift from thinking only about ourselves to suddenly focusing on the needs and welfare of others. Money then is no longer a treasure to be hoarded but rather a tool to use in helping those around us discover the wonder of God’s love, as well.

Secondly, we reap what we sow. We can’t gather in a harvest without first planting seed. God’s ways are not our ways and so His Kingdom principles often make no sense to our carnal minds, yet in God’s economy we gain by giving what we have away. If we want financial blessings to follow us, we have to first be obedient to what He says to do in the area of tithing and sowing financially into the lives of others. Yet the principle works far beyond our finances into all other areas of our lives as well. Whatever we need becomes ours when we first sow a seed for the same in the life of somebody else.

Thirdly, the woman expected results from her actions. She didn’t necessarily expect to see them herself, but she knew they were the inevitable outcome of the action she took. The whole reason I’m writing this today is that I saw the impact of her gesture in three areas in the life of my friend. The first was that a testimony was shared. Ali was so impacted by the gesture that she couldn’t stop talking about it, even twenty-four hours after the fact. It brought inspiration to those who heard it, creating in them a desire to repeat the action themselves, thus multiplying the effect of the original gift. And lastly, it led to a spiritual connection with God. While not a regular church-goer herself, Ali told me that it made her want to visit the church named on the card, if only to look for the woman and thank her. Yet who knows what might happen in her own spiritual life as a result of walking through those church doors? Perhaps the price of a soul might be that seven-dollar fast food freebie, transforming the original generosity into a truly priceless gift.

I can’t remember now if it was something I saw on a magazine page I flipped in passing or on a website I visited, but somewhere this past holiday season I came across four words that stuck with me because their meaning when used together changes depending on which word is accented in the phrase. It’s simply this: Pass on the gift. And the whole point of the ponderings above boils down to a simple choice we make multiple times every day. You see, all of us have received so much to be thankful for, and daily God gives us the opportunity to return the favor, to bless others as we have been blessed. Most of us will never receive a free meal at a restaurant, but the Christmas season just past reminds us that we’ve each been given a Gift that more than any Happy Meal will reveal to us the joy to be found in the love of God. And now we’re faced with a choice. We can pass on that Gift - simply ignore Him or openly reject Him. Or, having eagerly accepted the love and salvation that He brings, we can pass the Gift on in ways that are as unique as we are, following the leadings of the Father who loves us and the Holy Spirit who directs us.

In my mind’s eye I picture Ali at the fast food restaurant as a smile suddenly lights up her face, her hand closes on the bag of free food and then grabs her cell phone to begin spreading the good news. And therein lies a three-point prescription for making 2011 a truly happy new year: believe, receive, and then simply pass it on.

“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given…”

(Isaiah 9:6 KJV)

Priceless Present

Her groceries bagged and back in her cart already, the customer noticed that there were no other shoppers in line behind her and stole a minute to chat. Eagerly she reached into her purse and pulled out a photo of herself and her then hours-old husband on Christmas Day nine years earlier.

Washed all over again with new-bride excitement, she told me that she hadn’t been looking for a spouse when they started dating. He’d never been married, but she had been there and was done with that, a painful divorce having left her with negative feelings on the subject. They just wanted to have some fun together. But one thing led to another, and eventually when he asked her to marry him, she said yes. Still in no hurry to run to the altar, they began making plans slowly and methodically for a wedding at some future date.

Or so she thought. Apparently he’d been thinking about the matter more than she, and after a day of shopping together two days before Christmas, their laughter still fresh on their lips, he suddenly suggested they just run off and get married the next day. Instead of this endless searching for just the right present, why not just be their Christmas gift to each other that year? Thinking he was still joking around, she joined in the game, told him to show up at noon the next day and they’d do it. They laughed some more, kissed goodbye, and she went to bed that night without giving the idea another thought.

A pounding on her door more insistent than any alarm clock woke her the next day. Half awake, she opened it to find him standing there, flowers in his hand and a huge grin on his face. “I’m taking you at your word,” he said, reminding her of the promise she’d made the day before. He rushed her to get ready, saying they had a marriage license to pick up, a preacher on standby, and little time to spare. Her head in a daze, she did as she was bid and changed her status from “single” to “spouse” that very day. In the photo she held out to me I saw two wide-eyed newlyweds, still a little breathless from the events of the day before, holding each other tightly as they stood on her mother’s doorstep and announced “We’re married!” at the family Christmas celebration the next day.

Don’t you know we’re standing in her shoes? Many of us likewise weren’t looking for the love of a lifetime when suddenly it burst upon us. Jesus entered our everyday lives and wooed us with His love and kindness, His faithfulness, forgiveness, and the joy of the time we spent together. Eventually we took Him up on His proposal to enter into an eternal commitment to Him, to become the future Bride of Christ. He promised to return for us and went to make His preparations for what we assumed was a very distant date. Amazingly we likewise have fallen asleep, forgetting that He said He’d surprise us like a thief in the night to take us at our word that we’d be ready and waiting whenever He chose to come. And now time is knocking at our door, reminding us of His soon arrival to claim His promised Bride.

I looked at the photo one more time before handing it back to her, and then watched as she tucked it carefully back in her purse. She carried it with her because she was looking for a frame to place it in so she could give it to her husband on Christmas as a reminder of the day they promised to be each other’s gift.

Can’t we do the same? Let us likewise carry the love we have for Jesus in our hearts and actively look for ways to frame it in deeds of kindness, generosity and mercy toward others this holiday season as a way to be the gift to Him that no amount of money can buy. As we prepare our hearts for the arrival of the Christ child this Christmas let us remember that our Groom is likewise on His way.

Be ready when He comes.

“While the bridegroom tarried, the all slumbered and slept. And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom comes!… And they who were ready went in with him to the marriage, and the door was shut… Therefore watch, for you do not know either the day or the hour in which the Son of man comes.”
(Matthew 25:5,6,10,13 MKJV)

A Slot For Your Soul

Thanksgiving was not about turkey, taking naps, or touchdowns on the tube for me this year, wonderful though all of those things were. Rather, my driveway was full and so was my heart, and for that I gave thanks.

The gravel entrance to our home has a large extension on the side, a turn-around area so that cars parked in the garage can be backed out and pointed towards the road before heading that way. As each of our sons started driving and eventually acquired a car of his own, the space was widened so that their three vehicles could fit at the end of it side by side.

The driveway thus became a barometer of how things stood in the house whenever I came home from wherever I’d been. One glance to the left as I pulled into the garage gave me a good idea of who I might find lounging on the couch inside or foraging in the fridge for food. I especially loved the sense of satisfaction that came over me when I arrived home from a late shift at work and watched my headlights bounce off of three shiny bumpers in turn, indicating that my boys were all safely home. But soon their bedtimes outdistanced mine, and I came to realize that cars in the drive merely meant they hadn’t left yet for the night’s activities. Instead of counting heads in beds in the mornings I’d just peek out the window and count cars in parking spots to reassure myself that all was still well in my world.

So it was difficult for me when the silver Civic and the black truck took off this fall, bearing portions of my heart to distant states for months at a time. The remaining Accord looked a little lost and lonely in that vast expanse of gravel, but the empty spots inside and out of the house were indeed occasionally filled with the noise and laughter of visiting friends who rejoiced that at long last they didn’t have to park on the grass! Still, the change made us look to a Thanksgiving reunion with special anticipation. While the many holiday photos posted online pictured feasts on tables, friends in the kitchen and at least a few family members snoring away on living room couches, so my simple snapshot of three cars in the driveway spoke of a grateful heart filled to overflowing once more.

Early on in the holiday planning it had seemed impractical for my youngest son who now lives in Florida to drive such a long way for just a short holiday, and so he planned to stay and celebrate with family friends in the area. But his brother couldn’t bear the thought of his not being home and offered to buy him an airline ticket himself, despite his own limited resources. In the end his father paid the price to bring his son home.

Surely we shouldn’t let Thanksgiving go by without remembering that our spiritual Brother and Father have done the same. So desperately did Jesus desire that we all gather at the table for the future Feast that He willingly gave all He had to make a way for us to get there. In the end God Himself paid our travel expenses with the life of his Son. And now He wants you to know that there’s a parking spot in Heaven with your name on it, a place reserved just for you…a slot for your soul. And more anxiously than any earthly parent waits for their child to arrive is your heavenly Father looking and longing for you to fill it.

Make it safely Home.

“…I go to prepare a place for you…so that where I am, you may be also.”

(John 14:2-3 MKJV)

Reasons for Seasons

The food pantry patrons filed into the church sanctuary and settled into chairs to wait for their turn to shop the shelves in the basement below. As their initial greetings and early morning conversations died down, the music coming from the small radio in the corner was finally audible. Soon it was lost again in the loud protests coming from the workers and the waiting alike.

“Christmas music? Really?” Most of us agreed it seemed out of place to hear carols on the day before children dress as ghosts and goblins and grab candy from outstretched hands.

I understand the motive behind the retail industry’s desire to jump into the each holiday merchandising program months before the season itself actually arrives. But in many of us there’s something that cringes at the sight of Christmas displays on shelves that seemed to hold school supplies just a day or two earlier! And I still recall the horror of walking into a store on New Year’s Day only to find Cadbury Easter Eggs for sale by the registers! I hadn’t yet watched the Super Bowl, received a Valentine, or dressed in green on March seventeenth, and yet the Easter bunny was already hopping in my direction! And on the particular fall day described above I felt sure I wasn’t going to get a minute to enjoy my pumpkin pie before being passed a plate of fruitcake!

I’m not a grinch. Born on December 25^th, I’m a lover of all things Christmas. You might think it’s because I associate the yuletide season with aging that I’m not in a hurry to rush into the holidays each year. But I think there’s more to it than that.

Despite what we do with our holiday celebrations, we can’t rush the physical seasons of the year. Flowers and shrubs bloom in sequence as we flip the calendar pages, and all the wishing in the world won’t change the order of their appearance or speed the opening of their petals. Perhaps God planned it that way to teach us to drink every drop from the cup of the current season, be it bitter or sweet, before tasting what the next has to offer. Some stages of life are so enjoyable that we are reluctant to leave them, but perhaps it’s the boundaries on either end of them that make them precious, the knowledge that change is inevitable and our todays have to be embraced before they’re swallowed by our tomorrows and lost to us except in our memories. And yet it’s those same boundaries that make difficult days bearable, the knowledge that there will be an end to them as we pass through a particularly dark period into brighter days soon to come.

In the instant gratification of today’s society we have lost something valuable – the wonder of waiting. Due to technological advancements and the fast pace of life today we are intolerant of delay of any type, be it on the highway, the internet, the news, or the speed at which our food is prepared. Yet even fast food comes at a price that can’t be measured in dollars and cents. There’s something to be said for a meal prepared in a slow cooker that fills the house with its aroma and the family with anticipation as it simmers slowly away throughout the day.

Similarly, part of the joy of every holiday is the waiting period for it beforehand, remembering the fun of seasons past as we look ahead with excitement to what lies ahead. In fact, the Advent season itself is a time of waiting and preparation for the arrival of the promised Christ child, not just physically in a manger in Bethlehem long ago, but born anew in our hearts today, as well.

A tour through the produce section of the local grocery store proves that we don’t even want to wait for our fruit to ripen! Due to advancements in science and the speed at which goods are transported today, items which used to be available in only certain months are now available year round, simply flown in from other hemispheres where foods ripen at different times of the year.

At first delighted, my enthusiasm soon waned. The grapefruit I ate with joy in December I was tired of by March and April. When lured by their brilliant orange color into buying Minneola tangelos for sale in summer that I usually expect to eat only in late winter, I found that they just didn’t taste the same. Something was missing. I found that I’d lost the anticipation of their arrival. The same thing happens with the holidays we celebrate, when we remove seasonal boundaries and try to enjoy them all at the same time.

So how do we get that anticipation back? Personally, I’m putting myself back on schedule, waiting to enjoy seasonal foods in the months they normally appear here as a reminder to put all the energy and enjoyment I can muster into my current season while I wait with excitement for the joy of whatever lies just ahead.

As for Christmas? Everybody celebrates the holidays in their own particular way, and that’s fine. But you can bet I’m going to set my Thanksgiving drumstick down before I invite the Little Drummer Boy to pick his up and begin to play.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”

(Ecclesiastes 3:1 KJV)

The Middle Matters

Acronyms abound in our high-speed society that has little time or patience for full word phrasing. Caught up as I am in the whirlwind pace of life in today’s world, I’ve succumbed to inventing several of my own to use when communicating with those I love. Thus most messages to my sons end with the four-letter “YMLY”, which stands for Your Mother Loves You and is a fitting end to anything I happen to say.

Lately I’ve noticed that this habit has caught on with other family members, and its use is continually expanding. Messages written on the white board in the kitchen now end with a series of capital letters that identify the author, and more attention is usually given to deciphering the code at the end of the note than is directed to the message itself. A recent posting to my son was written in handwriting that clearly belonged to my husband, Jim. But did the “YFPFF” sign-off at the end stand for Your Forgetful Parent Feels Foolish?… Yesterday’s Frisbee Players Fling Farther?… or maybe Young Freeloaders must Pay For Food? Wrong on all counts, it was eventually translated into Your Father Plays Fantasy Football…with a healthy “DUH!” at the end for emphasis. It’s simply become a game we play amongst ourselves to add a little laughter to the day.

But communication is not always a laughing matter, especially when the message comes from God. Suddenly it’s important that we get it right. God is the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last… and suddenly I remembered an email that circulated on the internet a few years ago that claimed that words with rearranged spelling were legible as long as the first and the last letters were in the correct position. It read as follows:

Aoccdrnig to rescheearch at an Elingsh uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, olny taht the frist and lsat ltteres are at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae we do not raed ervey lteter by ilstef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

(Do you smell smoke? The spell-checker on this computer just went into overdrive!)

There are some who would suggest that the same is true of our spiritual experience in this world, that if we have a beginning with God somewhere in life (our salvation experience) and end our physical existence here on earth in a right relationship with Him, that the intervening years are of little importance in the grand scope of things. Yet I’m a firm believer that the middle of our spiritual lives matters to God.

It’s in those middle years that God speaks through us and our testimony is written on His behalf. Therefore we need to live our lives in those years in a way that leaves no doubt about God’s message of love, salvation, and His desire to walk with us hand in hand. How exactly that message is spelled out will vary with the individual, according to the gifts and talents each has been given, but it’s imperative that we don’t leave its meaning to chance or confuse those reading it with actions that inconsistent with the thoughts we are trying to convey. We don’t want people to have to guess at what God is trying to say.

It’s interesting that further analysis of the way we interpret misspelled words revealed that people had a more difficult time recognizing a word when letters were moved several positions out of place, instead of just one or two. Multi-syllable words were harder to read with misspellings than shorter ones and readers were slower to get the meaning of a sentence under these conditions.

Isn’t it interesting that the same can be said of us? The farther we move away from our spiritual center, the more difficult it is for others to read our message. Likewise we risk losing it altogether when we make it too complicated. The love of God is easiest to understand when simply expressed and underlined with a consistent lifestyle.

My messages to my kids always end with my signature sign-off, but it turns out that God’s messages to His could be signed in a 4-letter acronym, as well…simply “LOVE“.

It doesn’t get any easier to understand that that.

“For this is the message that you heard from the beginning, that we should love one another,”

(1 John 3:11 NKJV)

Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Hudek

Sweet Treats

I cried this morning, over a commercial I saw on TV. I caught the tail end of one I’ve seen many times before in which a mom has taken her son to his fist day of middle school and is quizzing him about whether he remembers the location of his first classroom, if he brought his lunch…until the boy in desperation says, “I’ve got this Mom! I can walk from here.” The mother takes a step back, physically and emotionally, and the boy heads into the school building, reaches to open his locker, only to find that the combination has totally slipped his mind. Frustrated and upset, he sticks his hands into his jacket pockets…and there finds a packaged Rice Krispie Treat that his mom had stuck in there with his locker combination written across the front. And suddenly I felt the tears well up.

I know. What does it say about a person’s emotional state when a commercial for a prepackaged snack makes them cry? I even braved the wonders of technology and used the rewind feature on our Direct TV remote for the first time ever (see that, boys?!) to watch the thing again. Sure enough, after the second viewing, the tears fell in earnest.

I recognized the trigger, of course. It was the look on the mom’s face at the son’s rebuke. Like all moms eventually must do, she took a step back and simply waved goodbye.

I can identify with her difficulty in letting go and allowing her children to make their own way in school as well as in life. Fast forward ten years in that boy’s life and that’s where I’m at today – having dropped two of my kids off at distant colleges to deal with the details of their lives on their own. I’m adjusting well for the most part (although my actions this morning may cause some to question that declaration), so could there have been something more to the commercial than just a lure to parents to buy the treats for lunches and snacks, now that school is back in session?

There’s always more to the life situations around us than what we see with our eyes and hear with our ears. In this case the answer was found in the closing thought of the commercial: They’re never too big for a little something sweet.

We forget that occasionally. We think now that we’re grown up…older…more mature…that we’re too big for some of the things that brought us joy in our younger years. Too often we use age-related excuses to sit on the sidelines of life. We don’t avoid just physical activities, but emotional, financial and spiritual ones, as well. And perhaps we really have stopped living and started dying when we convince ourselves that it’s too late in life to do something new. Too late to go back to school…to start a new business…to try God.

In God’s view it’s never too late for any of the above, especially the latter. The Bible tells us that God’s grace and forgiveness are available to anyone who comes to Him with a repentant heart, at any stage in their life journey.

But what if you had a relationship with God at one point and lost it for one reason or another? Maybe life circumstances conspired to convince you that God wasn’t Who He claimed to be. Or perhaps you just lost your focus, distracted by the pressures and busyness of life, only to eventually find yourself off track and seemingly alone once more. Maybe you just got tired of the fight to do what’s right and gave in to sensual pleasures of one type or another, and now believe that you’ve gone too far to ever be accepted back into the fold. Whatever your situation, God wants you to know that the welcome mat still lies outside Heaven’s gates, the porch light is still on, and there’s a Father’s embrace just waiting for you when you’re finally ready to come Home.

I fell for the television ad completely this morning, even with my kids grown and largely gone. As I wiped my face and blew my nose I vowed to make Rice Krispie treats from scratch for the family members still at home, and thought about buying boxes of the packaged kind to send to the loved ones away, with my own “I love you” messages scripted on the front – not locker combinations of course, but information pertinent to their current situations, such as Rent is due on the 1^st, Colors in cold, whites in warm or hot, or Cook the lasagna, covered, one hour at 350 degrees!

Hopefully I got the less verbalized message from Heaven, as well. God said He loved us when He sent His Son to die for us, and now that message is echoed in His longing to fill our time on this earth with timely assistance and blessings far greater than a few prepackaged treats stuck in our pockets or mailboxes. No matter what our age or station in life, we are simply never too big to begin again with Him.

Sweet.

“Count yourself lucky, how happy you must be –

you get a fresh start, your slate’s wiped clean.”

(Psalm 32:11 MSG)

Baby Face

Sitting in the front of his parents’ shopping cart, he was still hidden from my view behind the tall candy racks that separated our checkout lanes. And yet he was making his presence known.

“E-WAYNE!” he hollered at the top of his lungs. Again and again he bellowed his precious toddler mispronunciation of my name, as if there was some correlation between his decibel level and the speed at which I would appear. And desperately did I want to rush over and greet my favorite shopper. Not many customers come through the door calling for you by name, laughing at the sight of you and blowing kisses when they leave. But it’s this one that does that makes my job a joy.

It hasn’t happened without a lot of effort. Friends with his parents (my former favorite shoppers!) for many years, I’ve known him from belly to birth to big-boy-sitting-up-in-the-shopping-cart. At each stage his parents have extended their shopping trips to allow me a few minutes’ visit with their little man. I’m sure they must talk me up before entering the store so that he’s primed and ready when I finally spy him coming down an aisle. Even so, he becomes suddenly shy when we meet, hiding his face in his daddy’s shirt until the focus shifts away from him and our talk turns to other topics. A sudden giggle on his part at an expression on my face, and soon he‘s laughing and we’re buddies once more, blowing kisses unashamedly as he heads out the door.

The smile on that baby’s face could melt a heart of stone. All I know is that it’s surely worked its magic on mine. And so now I make a habit of smiling at babies in shopping carts. Getting them to smile back; that’s the challenge. Some I have to smile at long and hard, but in the end, perseverance is almost always rewarded with a grin in return. And I’ve found that I’m not alone in this fascination. I’ve watched the most sophisticated of coworkers throw all pride aside and practically jump through hoops to earn a sudden sunbeam from a little one passing by.

And isn’t that God’s desire, as well? He smiles at us, His children, from the moment of birth on, hoping that at some point in our existence we finally see His face in the love and blessings He pours out into our lives, knowing that once we do, we will never be the same again. From that time on we beam our response back to God, filling His heart with joy and the days we spend together in relationship a delight.

I remember the day it happened to me. Not only did I smile back at God, but I was also conscious that I couldn’t stop smiling at everybody else! My heart had been changed in a glorious moment of breakthrough, and it wasn’t a fact that I was able or wanted to hide.

And that’s part of God’s plan, as well. When a baby in a shopping cart finally cracks a grin in response to mine, the relative pushing the cart invariably turns to see what the baby is looking at. And so it is that when we respond in a positive way to God’s blessing on our lives, those around us will likewise turn to see what caused our reaction, perhaps eventually partaking in the joy themselves. No action on God’s part is wasted, but rather produces a domino effect on those we spend time with and love the most. Face it, if a yawn is contagious, how much more so is a smile! And there are those around us who would gladly trade a boring existence for the life of overflowing abundance that God promises to those who smile at Him in return.

Of course, a smile isn’t limited to an upturn of the lips. Any generous, kind or loving action on our part, even if it’s simply treating people with the decency and respect with which we’d like to be treated ourselves, qualifies as a physical grin that may provoke a positive response in the other person.

I haven’t been able to get a smile from every baby I greet, to be sure. And neither will everybody respond to God’s love. Sadly, some of those who do will eventually lose interest on down the road or become distracted by other lures in life. But never should we let the rejections of a few keep us from reaching out openly to those who may yet be desperate to experience God’s love.

As if in illustration of that last point, I realized recently that while my little buddy may still be my favorite, I’m no longer his. I’ve been replaced in his affections by a blonde beauty who carries him off to find stickers and free balloons while his parents chat with their many friends. But the other day his mother came into the store without the male half of the family, her baby daughter having made the transition from carseat-in-the-cart to front-of-the-bascart, sitting up proudly and looking around her inquisitively. And all of a sudden I smiled, knowing the joy in store for me as I embark on a mission to get her to do the same!

“…the kindness of God leads you to repentance” (Romans 2:4 LITV)

Extra Effort Required

The squirrel leaped from branch to branch, sampling multiple nuts in succession until finally making a selection. A black walnut now securely in its mouth, it scampered off, and I watched to see if it was just looking for a more secure perch on which to eat it, or if it was off to store it somewhere in preparation for the coming winter. His progress through the trees never stopped, and so I assumed the latter. Truly it seems that September starts the season for gathering. Squirrels gather nuts, rakes gather leaves, farmers gather crops…and pastors gather their flocks in church buildings once more.

I smiled at that last phrase. With summer ending and school starting, our preachers hope that with our more predictable routines we’ll make regular church attendance the priority in our lives it was before summer sunshine distracted our attention. And surely it’s only on their hearts because it’s likewise on God’s. Perhaps He knows that more than just a season of the year is drawing to a close. If there’s an urgency to their message, it’s likely God-inspired. After a few more minutes of reflection on the subject in the morning peace, I heard my to-do list calling and went inside.

A few minutes later I was sitting at the kitchen table when I heard a loud “PLOP” outside the glass patio doors. I looked up to see that a baby squirrel had fallen out of the nearest tree and landed with a splat on the wooden boards of our back deck. Stunned, it lay there for a few seconds before it began pulling its limbs in towards its body, its high-pitched squeals signaling its distress.

Thankful that our inquisitive dogs were still locked inside, I waited a moment, wondering what would happen next. Too young to do anything but cry for help, the helpless baby just lay there awaiting rescue. Cautiously I opened the door and peeked outside, hoping to see a mama squirrel looking down in horror at the baby she must’ve dropped in transit. I was momentarily diverted by the thought that apparently even squirrel moms occasionally suffer from the Delinquent Mother Syndrome that I experience from time to time. But no squirrel mother seemed to be anywhere about. Perhaps the baby had simply crawled out of a nest in the tree trunk itself, one that we knew had housed a squirrel brood earlier in the year. However it came to be spread-eagled on my back deck, it was beginning to look like its rescue was up to me.

Reflecting that getting lost baby animals back to where they needed to be was apparently becoming a way of life for me (see Revival’s Arrival and Mission Unmasked), I called a friend who had taken another baby squirrel to an animal rehabilitator in the area earlier in the year. Before I could even get the number, however, I noticed that it was beginning to rain outside, and all the mothering instincts within me refused to allow the confused and frightened animal to be drenched, as well. So I carefully lifted the now dish-towel wrapped infant into a box and prepared to put it in the garage out of the weather until I figured out what to do with it. Looking up again I at last spotted Squirrel Mama watching closely from a tree limb high above me.

“So she is around!”, I muttered to myself. That changed the game plan significantly. I remembered a hole some 15-20 feet up the same tree frequently used as a raccoon refuge when our dogs chased them away from the birdfeeders. If I could somehow get the baby into that hole, surely that would provide the best possibility for a squirrel family reunion. But, oh, it was so high up!

I heard a voice in my head reminding me of the huge ladder in the garage and knew I was supposed to give it a try. “God, you are really stretching me!” I grumbled. Last week it was a 20-foot truck I needed to drive, and now I was expected to get a baby squirrel some 20 feet up a tree. Knowing that trouble usually comes in threes, I gulped nervously at what he might have in store for me next.

Ladder finally in place, I began my ascent. Rickety at best, the wooden structure swayed from side to side with each step up. Sadly there was nobody home to help hold the thing or I would surely have delegated this opportunity for bravery away. Perched on the top step while the ladder rocked alarmingly beneath me, I hugged the tree tightly with one arm, reached as high as I could with the other, and was just…able…to…push the little squirrel into the opening, towel and all. Minutes later and with my feet securely on the deck flooring once more, I looked up and noted with satisfaction that Squirrel Mama had watched the heroics from up above and knew exactly where to reunite with her young. Mission accomplished, I put the ladder away and peeked hopefully out from the kitchen window from time to time the rest of the day to see if I could spot any further action around the hole.

In our conversations of late God seems stuck on this concept of getting those out of place in their current surroundings back to where they need to be. And He’s not limiting our discussions to just baby animals in my backyard, either. In all areas of my life I’m surrounded by human hearts that are just as desperately in need of rescue. Most of us at one time or another likewise found ourselves wandering into dangerous territory or taking a wrong step despite warnings we may have received, falling flat on our faces as a result. We’ve needed somebody to go an extra mile on our behalf to get us back to where we need to be.

It’s that extra mile God asks of us that’s the kicker. The situations I’ve found myself in in recent days and weeks that were difficult for me are laughable, used by God simply to get my attention or to illustrate a point. But He’s likewise surrounded me with real heroes who find themselves in circumstances that are anything but funny and who He asks on a daily basis to do more than they ever thought they could possibly do. He’s led me to foster parents who love and care for the children whose biological parents for whatever reasons could not. I’ve watched several friends sacrifice their todays for loved ones with too few tomorrows left to them. Parents send the children who are the light of their lives around the world to be a light in missionary or military service. And the bravest among us endure tours or duty in war-torn countries, sometimes again and again and again.

God’s Word promises that He won’t put more on us than we can bear. Thus we know that we are able to do what He asks of us, however reluctant we may be to attempt it. But when we risk discomfort, perhaps even death, expending ourselves on behalf of another, the Kingdom of God expands as well, and so does our Christian experience.

In the season of gathering its important to note that nothing happens by chance. Nuts fall to the ground, not naturally into nests in trees. Leaves don’t normally fall into neat piles to be burned or bagged. Neither do crops jump out of the fields and into storage bins or stomachs by themselves. Yet somehow we expect God’s lost children to find their way to Heaven on their own. Some do, of course, but God knows that the vast majority will need some help to get from where they’ve fallen to where they need to be. From the time of the first disciples on He’s sent harvesters in the form of preachers, pastors, teachers…and everyday people like you and me… to help them find their way back Home.

Almost everything gathered in September eventually disappears. Nuts are eaten, leaves are burned or disintegrate on their own, and crops are eventually consumed. Only the souls gathered for God live on in an eternity of peace and joy. Sadly, those that are left in the fields likewise have an eternal future, one that’s as bleak as the initial outlook of that baby squirrel on my back deck. The Bible tells us that soon even the harvesters will be called away. Our extra effort today could mean that fewer loved ones will be left where they lay and be lost.

“Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.”
(John 5:13 NIV)

Stairway to Servanthood

Slowly I inched the truck backwards, my eyes glued on my son’s beckoning arm in the massive side mirror until he raised his hands, signaling me to stop. Turning off the ignition, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. We’d made it!

I had doubted my ability to drive the rental rig with the ten-foot bed from the get-go. Despite my husband’s assurances that it would drive easily, it’s mere size intimidated me, and it was only the need to get Kevin’s newly-bought furniture from the store to his apartment that caused me to agree to the idea in the first place. But when the customer service lady behind the counter told me that she was going to give me a twenty-foot truck for the same price because the smaller vehicle had mechanical problems, my Goliath suddenly grew another ten feet, and I quailed at the sight of the idling monster. Only the steady stream of encouragement pouring forth out of the mouth of the son standing beside me convinced me to open the cab and climb aboard the waiting vehicle. “You can do this, Mom.” “Piece of cake.” “Only a couple of turns and we’re there.”

Knowing that he could’ve driven the truck with his eyes closed, I mentally blasted the driver age restriction on rented vehicles, slid behind the wheel and set off. Minutes later, having mercifully run over only curbs and not people, I pulled into the apartment complex and backed the rig into position for unloading.

While I breathed sighs of relief and voiced my thanks to God for getting us there, Kevin looked at the dripping skies and knew our real problems were only just beginning. He could easily muscle most of the contents of the truck up the stairs and into the apartment single-handedly. Only the queen-size sleeper sofa, a notoriously heavy article of furniture, would pose a problem. Earlier we had joked about bribing some passing college student into helping us by flashing a few greenbacks, but with the steadily falling rain there were few people out and about. I assured Kevin that together we could get it up the stairs, even if we had to heave it up one step at a time. But the muscle-bound Popeye beside me took one look at my Olive-Oyl-like arms and knew we needed more help than a positive attitude and a couple of cans of spinach could provide. He quietly asked God to send us some assistance, then lifted the door at the back of the truck and began the unloading.

Minutes later his help arrived. An elderly Hispanic man who lived in the apartment below came walking through the nearby pool area, saw the open truck, and immediately shouldered an end of the sofa, ready to help hustle it up the stairs. Soon it was manhandled through the apartment door and settled on the living room floor. Our attempts to then communicate our thanks were laughable. The man spoke no English and we knew no Spanish, so smiles and handshakes had to suffice. Later in the day we saw him again, and he came over to the car to try to talk to us once more. Sadly, no amount of goodwill or hand gestures could get us past the language barrier, and with a few shoulder shrugs, shakes of the head and more smiles, we parted once more.

Somehow, however, he managed to get a message across. I saw it first in the actions of my son. Together we had been consumed with the need to get his apartment furnished and himself situated before I left for home in just a couple of days. Each day we had a multitude of tasks that needed to be completed, and we dedicated ourselves to accomplishing them. But after our encounter with his neighbor, my son’s focus suddenly changed from our own to-do lists to looking for other people to help! College kids were moving into apartment complexes all around us, and every time he saw a U-haul truck or a pick-up loaded with furniture, he looked to see if the rear door panel was up or a tailgate was down, indicating that somebody might be in need of the same help we’d just received.

Shouldn’t we be living the same way? A toothless old man with leathery skin browned by years in the Florida sun reminded me with his actions that Christ came to shoulder a burden that wasn’t his own and get us to a place we couldn’t get to alone. And all He asks is that now we do the same for someone else. Too often we let our inability to relate to others and the life situations they may be going through to stop us from reaching out to lend a helping hand. But a lifestyle of service to others speaks a message that hearts understand when our words fail to communicate our thoughts.

It’s not like God asks us to do it alone. The Holy Spirit is our constant companion, empowering us when we’re scared and weak with words of hope and encouragement, constantly leading and guiding us with His direction and counsel.

On the last day of my stay in Florida, my son and I high-fived when the last of our tasks was completed. All we had left to do was pass a few hours until it was time to head to the airport so I could catch my flight home.

Spiritually speaking, too many of us are doing exactly the same thing. Instead of killing time let’s use the time we have left to help others, knowing that every step we take to lift another up leads both of us closer to Home.

“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”
(Galatians 6:2 RSV)

See You in September

My heart is tender these days; I can cry at the drop of a hat. Questioning the cause, I consider the onslaught of menopausal hormones… a spiritual awakening that’s happening at church… or maybe just a mother’s natural sorrow at the thought of her children leaving home.

The truth is that my sons are starting to scatter. The middle one will be the first to be dropped off at his college destination, and my youngest son and I are on tap to help him deposit his belongings in his new home. Imagining our parting, I recently pictured it happening something like this: I smile brightly, hug him tightly, and then hurry to the car to begin the long trip back home without him. I wonder at what mile marker the boys will forego all warnings about texting while driving and have the following non-verbal communication with each other:

> How’s Mom?
> Not sure; she can’t talk. Sobbing uncontrollably.
> What should I do?
> Abort life plan completely. Return to Ohio as soon as possible. Live out your life in the basement bedroom of your childhood home.

Ridiculous, of course. God has good plans for my sons, and the last thing I want is to hinder those plans in any way by my reluctance to let go of the hands I’ve held on to so tightly for so long. For years I’ve asked God to bless my boys abundantly, expand their boundaries and enlarge their territories, as in the prayer of Jabez (1 Chronicles 4:10). And surely I can’t expect God to answer that prayer without them outgrowing their current surroundings. To stay is to stagnate; to go is to grow.

And yet I reject the concept of the empty nest, as if it had never been blessed with the joy and the mess of masses of boys about the place. No, their exuberance and laughter is woven into the fabric of our family, ever to remain. They are simply a part of who we are. I prefer to think of mine as an overflowing nest, one which can no longer contain the life and love inside it but simply has to spill the overflow into other cities, other states, or (gulp!) other countries, without diminishing the quality of the original quantity in the least.

My mind understands this theory, it’s my heart that gets in the way of its implementation. And so I’ve devised a game plan to keep me from becoming the woebegone woman described above. I’ve worked diligently at keeping a positive mental attitude as I face the upcoming event. My emails to my sister have become daily pep talks to myself about entering my sons’ excitement as they head off on their own. I’ve tried to fully participate in the process of finding apartments and household furnishings, bedding and necessities. I’ve concentrated on enjoying every moment of our family outings this summer, culminating in a week-long celebration /family reunion in a glorious rented home on the Oregon coast.

For the most part the plan has worked well and I’ve kept my emotions at bay. But recently I’ve started to wonder if suppressing all sadness is really the best idea…if it might not lead to greater issues and problems on down the line Perhaps it would be better to face down this giant in the time and place of my choosing, a little at a time, so I’m not overwhelmed by an onslaught of grief at some later date when I’m least prepared to deal with it.

And so now by day I busy myself with sending security deposits to hold apartments, establishing bank accounts, and preparing vehicles for long drives to distant climes. But on the late night drives home from my second-shift job I let myself think about just how much I’ll miss the tousled heads sticking out from swaths of blankets on the living room couches, tripping over shoes left abandoned in hallways, and the pounding of feet down basement stairs in the early-morning hours that lets me know the last of my night-owl sons has returned safely home once more. In the silent darkness of those moments I let my heart run unhindered. If my nest is truly overflowing, it’s to be expected that my eyes will occasionally, as well, and I let the tears go as freely as I desire to do my sons, trusting that God puts the world on hold for a few minutes while He sits with me and lovingly counts and collects each one (Psalm 56:8 CEV).

I studied this morning how Jesus prepared His disciples for His upcoming departure. In John 16 we read that He reminded them of His love for them, explained that his going was for their ultimate good, and promised that they’d be together again one day. Although we all long ago made our eternal futures secure, I’m glad that my earthly goodbyes to my boys are just temporary in nature. A family friend’s wedding in early fall will bring us all together once more. Frankly, wild horses couldn’t keep me from attending that event. And it’s likewise the upcoming wedding of another Bridgegroom to His Bride that will call us all from our earthly occupations to our eternal destination. May we be just as desperate to hasten that day.

I posted the engagement picture of the prospective bride and groom on my fridge to help me get through the difficult days of this August, a reminder of a happy reunion soon to come. God knew we would need a spiritual version of the same to get us through all of the trials and tribulations we face in this world, so he penned it in the pages of the Bible. Because Jesus did so first with His, I can truly smile brightly as I hug my boys tightly…the whispered “See you in September!” in their ears a reminder to us all that sooner than we can imagine we will be in a place where the sight of His face will erase every thought of our tears.

“And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.”
(John 16:22 KJV)

Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Hudek

Risky Revelation

I’d been following its progress for months. My friend had faithfully relayed to me the latest details of her blossoming romance after each visit with her new boyfriend. Successive dates revealed new aspects of his personality that delighted her and she found herself liking him more and more. In our last conversation she whispered that she was beginning to realize that she loved him… and was now in a quandary as to whether or not to tell him so. I was somewhat surprised at her reluctance to voice her feelings.

“I’ve never said it first,” she said in explanation. In all her previous relationships it was always the guy who first declared his love. I understood without her saying so that there was a lot at risk. Sure of her feelings, she was less so of his. Perhaps such an honest expression would scare him away, indicating a depth of feeling that he might not share. There was the possibility that after having laid her heart bare she would once again find herself wounded and alone. “Once burned, twice shy,” as the old proverb goes, suggesting that it might be wiser to keep one’s feelings under wraps and let the other person take the plunge.

To me it was obvious that he was in love with her, too. Throughout the course of their relationship he had been careful almost to a fault not to do or say anything that might jeopardize their relationship. Yet he clearly was facing the same fear. I urged her to say what she was feeling, but at the right moment and in a place where she could see his face in response. I was sure she’d be pleased with what she’d see.

A few days later I was shopping when I came across a bracelet that caught my eye. A simple silver heart was strung between a couple of small beads on two elastic bands that met and tied in a knot in the back. A sucker for hearts anywhere I see them, I soon walked out of the store with the bracelet in a bag.

As I looked at it often on my arm that afternoon I began to ask myself what it meant to me, as I knew it was more than just a pretty bangle. Perhaps it was nothing but a simple reminder that Jesus loves me. If so, I can never have too many of those. Or maybe it would prompt thoughts about loving God by loving His people, as well. Maybe the fact that I wore it with the heart pointed outwards was symbolic of the need to give His love away. But some time later it came to me that God was simply telling me to wear my heart on my sleeve… to risk love, and to love genuinely and openly, without concern about how that love is received.

Perhaps we are reluctant to do so because loving in such a manner makes us vulnerable to hurt or heartache. It means pulling our hearts from the layers of protection we’ve placed around them and putting them out there where they can easily be broken by the careless or deliberate actions of others. But there’s a reason that God would have us to do so, and that is that it makes His love visible to those who may have been looking for it all their lives. And in so doing we make ourselves available to be His instruments of help or healing in whatever situations they may be going through, to point them to the One whose love never fails and who has all the answers to the questions they ask.

At the store that day I tried on all the bracelets on the rack before eventually purchasing the one I did. I wanted to be sure I bought the one that was the right size and the right color for me. Similarly there’s no one way to wear love or to love other people. Each of us will express God’s love differently, but the important thing is that we do. And when you find that right moment to say what’s on God’s heart to someone in need, you’ll find that you’re finally in a place where you can see His face…and you can be sure you’re going to like what you see.

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear…”
(1 John 4:18 NIV)