Transform Away!

I have a confession. 

All too often I launch into the flow of my day before giving God my time. Well...look at that sentence, would you? "Flow of my day!" It's not mine, it's His! 

Forgive me, Lord. Please transform me.

He reminds me "For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways, declares the Lord." Isaiah 55:8 (English Standard Version). So whose thoughts and ways do I want to follow? Surely not my own! 

Transform my mind, Lord, so my thoughts are in line with Your thoughts. 

In starting my day without putting the Lord first, I am missing out. Missing out on that tender time with Him. Missing out on the sweetness of morning worship and praise. Missing out on listening to His heart, His desires, and how He feels toward me. 

I need that time with Him first thing in the morning. Before the sun comes up. Before I do anything else. He hears my heart all day, what better way to begin the day than to listen for and hear His heart? I desire to be in sync with Him and flow with Him throughout the day. 

Transform my heart, Lord, so my entire being will be inclined to hear and know Your heart.

I need to hear Him say "For I know the purposes which I am planning for you...purposes of peace and not for evil; to give you posterity and a hope." Jeremiah 29:11 (Literal translation). I desire to walk in His purposes for me, not my purposes for me. I long to fulfill what He laid out for me before the foundations of the earth. 

So, I must die to myself, to my desires, to my agenda, to my shallow, selfish ways. "For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Philippians 1:21 (English Standard Version) A resounding YES! 

Transform my desires, Lord, so they become Your desires.

Today, I live for, through and in Jesus Christ. I desire to honor and glorify Him in all I say and do. And it's a good...no...great...no...amazing day! 

Thank you, Lord, for Your transforming power. Transform away!

Pranks

It began with a loud thwack to my dorm room door. Followed by another. My roommate and I woke up with a start. “What was that?” She turned on a light. To our horror a colored liquid was flowing across our floor at a rate of speed that required action – quick!

Someone had broken balloons filled with colored water at the base of our door. In the middle of the night! No other room in our cube was hit. No one fessed up. It was a mystery. Who? Why?

Then my poor car became the target.

To give you some context, I graduated from college over thirty years ago. (Gulp! That number is sobering.) Decades before laptops and cell phones, let alone the Internet, IPods and IPads. Completing a research paper meant hours in the library searching through card catalogs, the stacks, microfiche, professional journals and impatiently waiting for the arrival of inter-library loans.  It meant waiting for an available typewriter with a typewriter eraser or, better yet, Liquid Paper close at hand. But I digress.

My always generous grandmother gave me the money to buy a car when I was nineteen. My bachelor uncle got volunteered to take me car shopping. It didn’t take long. I found what I wanted at the first dealership we visited. A 1975 VW Beetle in bright yellow with black trim. Four on the floor and the wonderful engine sounds that only a Bug could make. I was thrilled! My uncle thought I was crazy! And I named her Myrtle.

Did I know the heating system would leave me shivering in our frigid winters? No. Did I know my bright Bug would become the target of pranks that would leave me fearful, shaking and in tears? No!

I didn’t use my car every day. I lived in a dorm on campus so I parked Myrtle on campus. I frequently walked to work. I welcomed the mind-clearing blocks of semi-solitude.

One day I was met with a sight that left me stunned. My car was turned sideways in the parking space. Yep, Myrtle's nose was inches from the passenger door of one car and her rear bumper was inches from the driver door of another. Oh, it fit quite nicely! I worked for a l-o-n-g time moving inch-by-inch, forward and reverse until my little car was free from her predicament. I was late for a dental appointment. Did they believe my less-than-believable story? No!

I chalked it up to someone having fun at my expense. I moved  Myrtle to a different lot and I just put it out of my mind. Until….

One day I chose to drive to work instead of walking. I jumped in Myrtle and she wouldn’t move. Forward or backward. Not an inch. Not a fraction of an inch. I couldn’t imagine what was going on. I knew very little about cars (a condition that has not changed, I might add!). All I really knew was I had to get to work.

Puzzled, I stepped out of my car and looked under it. Oh, come on! Cement blocks were expertly placed so no one could see them at a glance. The tires were off the ground by less than half an inch. I had no time to think about it. I ran the ten blocks to work. I flew through the door of Don’s Super Valu and headed straight to the assistant manager. I explained my situation. He looked a bit amused as he told me I should have called to let them know I was going to be late. Gee, why hadn’t I thought of that? A group of guys from work were gracious enough to rescue my Bug from its pickle. And I became the proud new owner of four cement blocks!

I began choosing parking spots as out-of-the-way as possible, preferably remote. But how do you hide a bright yellow Bug? Keep in mind this was before mini vans and SUV’s expertly concealing cars from view. Myrtle could be spotted anywhere due to its unique shape and its bright color. I appreciated that when I exited malls at Christmastime but I felt helpless now. And scared.

And I made a mistake. I parked in a very visible lot in the heart of the campus. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I returned to the lot several days later. Myrtle was out in the middle of the lot. Not in a parking space mind you but right smack in the aisle in everyone’s way.  And under her windshield wiper was a stack of tickets! My heart sank…twice.

I grabbed the tickets and drove straight to the campus security office. I was shaking. And crying. I told the clerk my situation. After sympathetically listening to my story, she agreed I shouldn’t have to pay the tickets.  I couldn’t thank her enough. I didn’t have the money to pay one of the tickets let alone several of them.

And the pranks stopped as suddenly as they had begun.

The school year came to a close and I moved off campus with a bunch of friends. As I sat on the porch one sunny summer afternoon, one of my housemates handed me a letter. It was from an old boyfriend who had graduated a couple of months earlier. I had no idea how he got my address or why he was writing at all. 

Curiously, I read it. And the puzzle pieces fell into place.

It was an apology. For not treating me the way I deserved to be treated. For breaking up with me. And for being an accomplice in his flatmate’s quest to make my life miserable.

They had been on my suspect list but I had zero proof. We’d all been in choir together. I knew these guys well. I’d hung out at their apartment. We’d spent countless hours together in rehearsals, performances, and choir tours. We’d ridden the same bus all the way to New Orleans and back. I appreciated the apology but in some ways it hurt even more.

I never heard from my old boyfriend again. Or his flatmate. But I wondered why I had become the recipient of his wrath. Sure, I’d witnessed how his playfulness could be tipped with meanness. But, why me? Then I remembered. I had rebuffed his interest in me. It was just an instant in time. I guess that was all it took.

Have you ever felt tormented? By people, dreams or memories?  I’ve known all of these. I’ve felt helpless and alone, scared and anxious about what’s next.

Years have gone by. I’m not that frightened young woman anymore.

What’s changed? My life does not belong to me anymore. I gave it to Jesus Christ.

Sure I have dreams and visions that may be concerning but I’ve learned to turn them over to the Lord of my life. I ask for wisdom and revelation. Are there spiritual implications? Am I under spiritual attack or is there some action I am being called to?  

And I take authority, the authority that Jesus has given me. There is no need to be frightened. He’s got me.

Do people hurt me, disappoint me, make my life miserable at times? Of course but I remember how God sees me and I can let it go. I can forgive and move on. I can choose new playmates in a new playground if that is God’s desire for me.

I am free!  Fear will not defeat me!

And years later what did I buy? A bright red New Beetle! In all the years we had Oskar, he was always where we left him and in the condition we left him. J

(This is one of several posts I intend to make dealing with fear so stay tuned!)

Oh Boy!

Young boys often express themselves in unexpected, unappreciated ways. Agree or disagree, I came to know this truth in an up-close-and-personal way as a fourth grader.

It happened so fast it was a blur. During recess one day, a sixth grade boy dropped worms down the front of my dress and proceeded to smash them with his open hand. Ewwwww!

I was completely repulsed and ran screaming to the little girl's room. I tearfully tried to clean up the mess. The worm innards left a stain on my sailor dress that never came out. I loved that sailor dress. And my wardrobe was limited. Why?

It seems the guilty party "liked" me. I can tell you I didn't like him after that experience! I'm sure he hadn't given any thought to my reaction. But come on! Smashing worms to my chest was supposed to elicit undying love? I don't think so! 

What is it with young boys? Is the goal to gross out the object of their affections? How do they conjure up these expressions of fondness? Is success measured by the volume of screams and/or intensity of tears? I know boys and girls are wired differently but this particular behavior baffles me. 

I suppose someone could apply for a government grant to study this behavior. It is likely the research has been done by an eager grad student. I wonder what conclusions they reached?

Keep in mind, I do not have brothers. My male cousins may have given me a clue. But I didn't catch on. 

I'm just grateful that most boys grow out of this behavior. If not, I fear our species would be in grave risk of extinction.

Sleep Interrupted

My deep sleep - complete with dreams - was invaded by the sensation of something crawling on my back. I leaped out of bed with a move that would have made an Olympic gymnast proud. I nailed the landing, too! Not bad for a large, middle-aged woman, if I do say so myself.

Fearful of what I may see, I looked back at the very spot I vacated seconds before. I began to breathe again when only a stink bug remained. If it had been a spider, the neighbors may have been awakened by my screams!

If you are unfamiliar with stink bugs, they are slow moving, prehistoric-looking creatures that appear to be a shield with legs. The name? Well, there is a reason for it. If a stink bug is in distress, it lets off an unmistakable stench. It may very well have an impressive scientific name but I do not know what it is, nor do I care.

I grabbed a tissue and picked up the now stinky stink bug. I confess. I ended its life. Disposal of the body complete, I thought I would go back to sleep. There on the bottom sheet were two legs. Apparently I had made a swipe during my frantic exit that resulted in partial dismemberment. I disposed of the appendages and attempted to go back to sleep.

I discovered one cannot sleep when every nerve ending is in hyper drive. 

God's Hands and Feet

During my childhood, my father was hospitalized on two different occasions. On our small family dairy farm, his absence was felt in a big way. My sister and I took up the slack as best we could. We got up at 4 a.m. to milk the cows and complete all the chores before school. And twelve hours later we repeated it.

One of Dad’s hospitalizations was in the Spring of my eighth grade year. The fields needed to be prepared, corn and oats needed to be planted. My sister was more experienced with tractors and equipment, but the field work was more than either of us could take on. Mom was focused on Dad, as she needed to be.

It was during this season that we experienced the outpouring of our neighbors. It was something to witness! They had their own lives and their own farms yet there they were, completing all that needed to be done. Not because they had to or because it was expected. It’s something neighbors did.

What an example of selflessness! It made an impression on me, an indelible impression. It didn’t matter if we disagreed on politics or attended a different church, neighbors helped neighbors. We could count on each other to come through in those tough times.

Our neighbors were living examples of God’s Word.

“Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. “ Romans 15:2 ESV

“Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor.” 1 Corinthians 10:24 ESV

 “For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” Galatians 5:14 ESV  

“Everyone helps his neighbor and says to his brother, ‘Be strong!’” Isaiah 41:6 ESV

Farmers are exceptional people. Farming communities are special places.

Larry and I are privileged to live in a farming community. While we are not farmers, we have the joy of watching the seasons go by surrounded by farm fields. We love it! And I know, given similar circumstances as we had so many years ago, the people in this community would rally and do exactly the same thing.

And I thank them and honor them for being God’s hands and feet.

Loss

Loss. We all experience it. It’s a part of life, a hard part.

It causes us to examine our lives and our relationships.

It challenges us.

It angers us.

It scares us.

It alters our lives, our perspectives, our futures.

I know so many who have faced far greater loss than I have, loss they carry with them every moment of every day.

Tonight, I have an opportunity to love on two sons who lost their mom. 

The eldest is a gifted teenager who needs his mom to be there for him as he faces life, its choices and its paths. The youngest is still so very young. He needs his mom, her love, her guidance, her faith and her encouragement along the path to manhood. 

These two instantly came to my mind when I heard the news of their mother’s death…handsome, loving, precious boys. I know God will meet all their needs but not the way anyone here on earth could have envisioned it.

Their cheerleader is gone. The person they depended on the most is gone. It’s tragic, oh so tragic.

My prayer is that they would cling to our triune God as they grieve.  I don’t know how anyone survives loss without the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  

In those times where I’m feeling scared, misunderstood or in pain (physical or emotional), I crawl up into the lap of my Father God. It is under His wings that I seek refuge. (Deuteronomy 32:11; Psalm 17:80) It is from Him I gain strength. (Exodus 15:2; Psalm 46:1; Psalm 59:9 & 17; Psalm 58:35; Ephesians 6:10; 1 Corinthians 1:3-4)

Oh the comfort that comes with the knowledge that Jesus the Christ is interceding on my behalf. (Hebrews 7:25 ESV) He knows what it is to be human:  the loss, the pain, the limitations. But also the joy of being His Father’s beloved Son and sharing His Father’s love and truth with everyone He met.  He is my example, my brother, my friend.

And the Holy Spirit, well, I don’t wish to face a day without the amazing gift of of the Holy Spirit. It is through the Holy Spirit that I receive the guidance I need, the answers I seek and the comfort I long for. (John 16:13 ESV)

May tonight’s home-going be a blessed tribute. Something these boys can look back on as a celebration of her life, her faith, and her legacy.  

She is worshiping her King in His very presence. When I think of that, I have to smile. 

Cherish

After completing a Christian mystery and suspense novel this morning, a friend came to mind. There were no parallels between her and the story, no similarities at all. But there she was.

She had gone home to be with the Lord in the early months of 2012.

We had worked together, prayed together, worshipped and praised together. We had both left our mutual place of employment months before her death. She lived in Akron. We live in rural Wayne County. We didn’t see each other. An occasional phone call was all we had.

She had called me requesting prayer prior to going in for tests. We could have talked for hours but we kept the conversation relatively short. That was her last call to me. I found out about her diagnosis and prognosis through another friend on Facebook. I was confident that if anyone could beat cancer, she could. I believed she would know complete healing.

She was a prophetic intercessor who knew people all over the country, perhaps the world. She knew what God was doing, both from what He shared with her and through her connections. The woman was connected. I knew she was being upheld in prayer by many, many people.

I can still picture her dancing for Jesus. Robed in a flowing white praise dress, she expressed her adoration to her King beautifully. I was enthralled watching her when I was to be worshipping myself. Reaching, twirling, gliding across the floor. She was born to worship.

I made an occasional phone call, sometimes talking with her and sometimes with her husband. Friends who were closer to her family would keep me current on how she was. One Sunday, I felt a strong pull (or was it a push?) to visit her. She was back in the hospital so we dropped in after church. Family and friends were there by the dozens. The family room was overflowing. They were celebrating her birthday.

Immediately upon entering her room, we greeted her husband and daughter. We washed our hands and joined those by her bedside. I can only imagine what registered on my face as I looked at the person in the bed.

Shock.

Confusion.

 Disbelief.

Fear.

I would not have recognized her. In a few short months, the cancer had ravaged her body to the degree I would not have known her if it were not for the family by her side. She was down to eighty pounds. Her thick, beautiful hair was gone. Wisps were growing in close to her scalp. Oddly, only her hands looked familiar despite how thin they were… those hands that I had seen reaching for Jesus time and time again.

We chatted with her husband. The dear man was hanging on by a thread. He dozed off from time to time. His daughters sent him home to shower and change clothes but I doubt he had truly slept in months.  The love he and his wife shared was deep and abiding. Their story is not for me to tell but it was truly amazing.

Her hospital room was incredible. There wasn’t a place my eyes could travel without taking in scriptures and promises of God. The walls were papered with promises. Promises of hope. Promises of purpose. Promises to see, meditate on and cling to when life was presenting its greatest challenge.

At one point - quite by a miracle of God - my husband and I were alone with her. Softly and slowly, I began to sing the first song that came to my mind. “Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. There’s just something about that name....” Larry joined in as we sang it through twice. 

We had a few more minutes with her before her husband declared she needed to rest. At times she spoke with clarity, at other times I simply could not understand what she was trying to get across.  She needed rest. There had been so many visitors to celebrate with her that day.

 A few of us gathered around her bed and prayed. She held my hand and said something I did not understand. I apologized that I didn’t understand. She repeated it. I looked to her husband for some assistance in comprehending what she was asking. He didn’t know either. It was clear she wanted something but I just didn’t know what it was.

She died two days later. Her final words to her husband were  “it will be OK”.

In my mind’s eye, I can see her dancing and worshipping with the heavenly host.  While we would have preferred she experience healing in this life, her healing took place at the time of her earthly death.  Now she is experiencing a life I can only imagine.

I am happy for her, but tears come when I think of her. There are things I would have liked to have said. Time I wish I had given to her. Worship and prayer I would have treasured with her.

Months after her death, the Holy Spirit gave me a gift. He told me what she had asked me the last time I saw her. “I want to sing with you.”  

I wish I had known. But my understanding was in God’s timing.

She is where she is meant to be, singing, dancing, worshipping her King in His very presence.

I want to sing with her, too. And one day, we will.

Cherish each day and the people God has placed in your life before they slip away….

Context and Building Bridges

We lack context. In the Church, our government, our society, our marriages and families, context is all too often dismissed or ignored entirely.

Larry and I have an amazing marriage. There is no one on earth I would rather have a long discussion with than my husband. The subject doesn't matter. Our combined passions and giftings create an environment for new insights and ideas. It's like popping popcorn: the right temperature, an oil that can take the heat and nice, dry kernels...pop, pop, pop! God sure knew what He was doing when He brought the two of us together!

One of the things that has made our marriage strong has been our desire to grasp, appreciate and honor context. Here's an example.

Back when we were dating (although we still date!), we were driving on a snowy Massachusetts night. Larry decided it would be fun to speed up on a hairpin curve, you know, so the back end of the car would spin around. It's a guy thing! Anyway, I burst into tears and began sobbing uncontrollably. He felt terrible! I explained that my fear was due to a car accident I had before meeting him.

Here's the context. It was January and I was in a hurry to get home to pack for a business trip I was taking the next day. The Bedford, MA street department didn't keep the roads as clean as I was accustomed to in Wisconsin and Minnesota. They tended to let it pile up for a while before dealing with it...at least that's my story and I'm sticking to it! Well, as I took a curve less than a mile from work I hit several inches of slush. Slush and cars? Not a good combo! Thank God no other cars were nearby because I was in for quite an out-of-control ride ending in smacking the rear end of the car into a telephone pole. I was fine, the telephone pole was fine (thank God, or I would have had to replace it at the lofty price of $1,200!), my company car was not fine at all.

What followed can only be described as sad. No one would stop to ask me if I was OK. I tried to flag cars down but people just ignored me. I trudged up to a nearby house and no one would come to the door even though I saw footprints in the snow leading to the door and a car was parked in the garage. I felt so alone and forlorn...the days before the prevalence of cell phones. Finally, out of desperation, I got back in my car, turned around and headed back to work. I was dragging a good bit of the car behind me so it was slow going. Wouldn't you know it was then that a Bedford police officer stopped me? I explained what had happened and where I was intending to go. Since it wasn't far, he escorted me. And filled out an accident report after we arrived.

And as God always does, He made provision for me. A staff member from the department of agriculture was still at our office. He lived even farther out than I did so he was happy to give me a ride home. The snow storm was closing everything down. It was a miracle Jim was still chatting with our legislative director when I returned with my head hanging. God is so good! And the guys had a good laugh when they saw my car!

Once Larry heard the context of my tearful outburst, it made all the difference. In our eighteen years of marriage, has he ever taken corners too fast? Rarely. Has he ever tried to make the tires spin out on snowy roads? Never!

Context makes all the difference.

Scripture should never be taken out of context. 2 Timothy 3:16 says "All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness." (ESV) Shouldn't we know the context? What was happening at the time the passage was written? Who wrote it? What was God doing? What was He saying? How does the context shed light and revelation on the application of the verse?

Context applies in our government and politics.

I feel very strongly that we must continue to support Israel, at all costs. When we fail to stand with Israel, it will be our undoing as a nation. It all comes down to context. How many people know and/or appreciate the context of our relationship with Israel? Do we know what the Word says? As a nation, do we honor God's heart toward Israel?

I grew up reciting the Pledge of Allegiance every morning at school. We'd stand with our hands on our hearts and face the flag. I didn't fully understand the context of those words then but I sure do now. And there are people who are fiercely determined to remove the Pledge of Allegiance from our schools. Doesn't the context behind those words matter? Or is their offense at God being named completely negate the intent of the Pledge? Sad. Very, very sad.

Do we know our founding fathers and the vision God gave them for our country, our republic? Do we recognize how these men loved, honored and served God? Doesn't history make any difference in Congress or in politics? Just take a look at the world events of the 1930's and 40's and the parallels with today. Frightening! Let's get back to context, people!

Each of us has our own perception of things based on our experiences and what we know to be true (even though it may not be based on Truth). The only way we can have successful marriages, growing relationships with Jesus Christ, a healthy country, and a thriving society is through understanding and appreciating context.

We need sit down and talk, to truly listen and share from our hearts. That starts in our homes and goes all the way to the top of our government. Our founding fathers were against political parties. They worried that political parties would cause divisiveness. You gotta love their wisdom in that! Politics makes my heart sick...so much mistrust, anger and downright hatred. Have we actually tried to have civilized conversations - disregarding party affiliation or lack thereof - to reach acceptable, forward-moving solutions to the issues we face? Or have we become divided to the point of no return?

Context has immense value.

We have to talk! We have to understand the foundations that have been built through experience, trial and error and, most importantly, through God's wisdom and direction.

Engineers do their research before building a bridge. They know the best location, the soil, the average rainfall, how the bridge will be used (trains, vehicles or foot traffic, how many, how heavy, how often, how fast), how best to anchor it and the best resources necessary to accomplish their task. Context means everything because lives depend on it.

Bridges can be built through context. 

Bridges to our hearts, our minds, our loyalties, and our passions. Bridges of understanding, respect and honor. Bridges that can withstand the strongest gales and mightiest earthquakes.

Oh sure there are people who try to refute context, to revise it to suit their own desires and agendas. In my opinion, you can't argue with context. We may not like it or even agree with it. It may be ugly and often heartbreaking. But it is what it is. Let's look at it straight on, take in the lessons it has to teach and learn from it.

So, let's build bridges through understanding contexts, shall we?

Mouse Adventures

My childhood was one of Disney and Mickey Mouse but I was scared to death of live mice. Whether it was the shock of their appearance out of no where or how quickly they moved, I'd scream every time!

Growing up on a dairy farm, mice were a reality. They liked the grain bin most of all - MRE's for mice! But I had to shovel from that grain bin every evening. Thank God for our dogs, barn cats and a good set of lungs!

I've had house cats for much of my adult life. For you non-cat people, cats like to bring their "trophies" to their owners. I don't necessarily mind this unless the darned thing is still alive. With four cats sharing our current home, escape is futile!

Eighteen months into our marriage, I accepted a position with a farm organization in New York state - over two hours from our home in Massachusetts. During the week, I had an apartment in a small town outside Albany. I spent the weekends at to our home in Mass. The long-distance commute life began (thankfully it only lasted for eighteen months). It was in that apartment that I became desensitized to mice.

To avoid being lonely, one of our cats made the commute with me.You should have seen the looks on the faces of the toll takers when I pulled up to the booths...shock, amazement, wonder. Curled up on my dash was a large, long-haired white cat with salmon colored spots! Rafferty loved to travel by car! Upon stopping, he'd usually lift his head, yawn and go right back to sleep.

I hadn't been in the apartment long when I noticed Rafferty's food dish was emptying all too quickly. Raff was never one to refuse a meal but his food was disappearing at an astounding rate. Couple that with all the noise I heard above my head as I sat in my recliner at night. There was a party going on, no humans (or cats) invited!

One evening, as Rafferty and I were snuggled up watching TV, we saw a mouse run along the baseboards. OK, so much for my concern of being lonely! The following night, Raff caught our furry little friend and dropped it at my feet. What happened next was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

The mouse stood up on its hind legs and read us the riot act. It may not have been in any human tongue but I recognized a serious chewing out when I heard one! The mouse looked at me, at Rafferty and back at me scolding the entire time. It really was quite comical! In our shock at the tongue lashing we had just received, we let the gray four-foot scurry away.

I named our sassy new flatmate Fat and Sassy. This mouse needed "The Biggest Loser" Rodent Edition! I could only deduce that Iams cat food was to him what chocolate was/is to me.

I came home from work one day to find blood everywhere...on the stairs, on the living room carpet, on the dining room vinyl, on the bathroom floor. The quantity was remarkable. My immediate thoughts were "Dear Lord, what happened here? Where's Rafferty? Did he hemorrhage all through the apartment?"

Well, Rafferty was fine. Fat and Sassy...not so much. Raff had won what must have been an epic battle. I found the dead body of our vocal, obese little friend in the bathroom. The next thing I did was just...well...silly.

Larry would always flush the skinny field mice our cats would bring into our home in Mass. (Our poor septic system!) Anyway, without even giving it a second thought, I decided I would dispose of Fat and Sassy in the same manner. Yep, you guessed it! That chubby little dude would not fit down the toilet...I had to fish it back out! Disgusting! My outside trash can became the only place I knew to stash the corpse.

My story of mice in this apartment is not yet complete. When Rafferty and I returned from a three day holiday weekend, we heard strange, pitiful noises coming from under the kitchen sink. My curiosity got the best of me.

I had emptied my tall kitchen trash bin before leaving for the weekend but appealing odors must have lingered. I opened the cupboard and tentatively peered into the trash bin. I couldn't believe my eyes!

Jaw dropping and eyes popping, I took in the skeletal remains of two mice and two other emaciated little bodies weakly crying for help. Getting into the trash bin had been a breeze but, due to its depth, escape was impossible. It was the Bonner Party mousy style - minus the snow!

I discovered a dead body in the trash bin one other time but there was only the single incident of cannibalism. And the nocturnal rodent parties ceased.

So it's pretty clear how I became desensitized to mice, isn't it? Rafferty has been gone for several years but our mouse adventures will always be with me. =^..^=

Are Buzzards Circling?

God created buzzards to consume dead things. If you have ever seen them circling in the sky, you know something is dead or dying below them. Death is a part of life, right? Right.

A couple of years ago, a flock of Canada geese landed in a farm field a few yards from our home. I noticed one goose appeared to be injured.  I watched from afar for a couple of days. One goose stayed with the injured goose. It never went far. Since Canada geese mate for life, I can only assume it was the injured goose’s mate.

I was concerned. I sent emails and left voice mails hoping someone could rescue this injured bird. No one got back to me. Eventually even the mate was gone.

Then I saw them, the buzzards. It began with one and all too quickly a dozen had converged on the very spot where I had last seen the injured Canada goose.

Buzzards are large and, let’s be honest, they are ugly. My first encounter was on a country road. We came over a hill and right before us were two of these big birds feasting on road kill. My husband slammed on the brakes. They didn’t move quickly. We got a look that spoke “Hey, we’re eating here!”  Eventually they lifted up on their mighty wings to let us pass. That was as close as I ever wanted to get to buzzards. They give me the creeps.

The gathering of these birds so close to our home made me uneasy. That uneasiness grew when they began to perch in the trees around our house: the one hundred year old silver maple, the black walnuts, the pines.  I felt a darkness descend.

Buzzards are unclean birds. In the spirit realm, they represent evil. At the time, I didn’t have my current understanding of the spirit realm or the authority I have in Christ.  Did I ask God what their presence meant? No. Did I command them to leave in the name of Jesus? No. I’d step outside waving my arms and yelling but it merely caused them to fly off only to return moments later. I began to accept their presence despite the sense of unease it brought, despite the death they represented.

That’s been an issue for me, accepting things as simply the realities of life. In the past, I’ve come into agreement with words that have been spoken over me, illness that has afflicted me, as well as situations and relationships that brought only pain.

I just didn’t know my authority to change the atmosphere around me. I found it difficult to accept all the things God had said about me, they were contrary to much of what I had known and experienced. I didn’t see myself as Jesus’ friend. He was mine but I didn’t see myself as His. I couldn’t recognize the enemy’s hand in my physical pain and the inevitable derailing it brought.

I agreed with things that brought death, death to my God-given purpose and death to my dreams. But I also recognized there were plenty of things that needed to die in my life so I could walk into the plans and purposes God has for me.

It was imperative that certain mind sets had to die. Depending on people and things for my happiness had to die. Self-reliance had to die.

Sure, there was discomfort. I was reluctant to release some things into God’s hands. I was like a child holding onto something for dear life, shaking my head, stomping my foot and proclaiming “No”! The Lord gently reminded me of His love and His desire for nothing but His best for me. How could I argue with that? I let go.

It’s been worth it to let go of those things in my life that brought only death.

It’s been worth it to step into the liberty that is only available through Jesus Christ.

I choose life…for my dreams, for my destiny, for God to work through me.

Are there things in your life that you need to release to God, things that only bring bondage and death? Does God need to burn away the chaff so He can use the seed He has planted in you? Will you let Him?

I encourage you to go to the Lord in prayer, to seek His face and ask Him what needs to go. Be honest with yourself. More importantly, be honest with Him.

Are buzzards circling? Are you going to choose death or choose life? 

Feathers

I awoke this morning thinking of hope.

My thoughts went to

-  an unemployed single mom who is struggling to keep it together.

-  a distant cousin whose life was uprooted recently only to have her husband laid off again in a different state, far, far away from all she has ever known.

-  a friend who was served divorce papers by the husband she loves so very much.

-  a deeply wounded friend who was physically and emotionally abused beyond my imagination as a child.

-  family and friends from both sides of the aisle who are living in fear of the outcome of the upcoming election.

Hope.

From the deep recesses of my mind came the Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) poem:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

It is a beautiful poem but I beg to differ with dear Emily. Hope does ask “a crumb of me”, of all of us. It asks us to believe, to trust, to have faith.

What or who is the source of your hope?

During Hurricane Isaac, one of the Weather Channel’s meteorologists explained how different trees fare in the high gales of a tropical storm or hurricane. Nothing compares to the palm tree. It is resilient and pliable. Its root depth exceeds its height. God gave the palm tree such an amazing root system because He knew it would face storms.

Where is your hope rooted?

There will be gales in life. Storms that will knock us off our feet, take our breath away and leave us clinging to what we know to be true. Our truth is in Jesus Christ. We need to be deeply rooted in Him. He is our hope.

Spend time with Him in prayer and reading His Word. Get to know Him. Your hope will build, your roots will grow deeper. Fear will fade.

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.” Hebrews 10:23

He is faithful!

Psalm 91:4 brings us back to feathers. 

“With His feathers He will cover you, and under His wings you shall seek refuge; His truth is a shield and buckler.” (LITL)

If you are struggling with hope today, crawl under His wings. Let His feathers cover you and protect you. No greater shield exists.

The storm will pass. 

Hope will remain.

Bathing in God's Love

Oh give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; for His steadfast love endures forever! 1Chronicles 16:34 ESV

What does it mean to bathe in God's love? What does that look like? Here are my thoughts. There is no specific order to this, it's just how it came to me.

Bathing in God's love means recognizing who we are in Him. I am His beloved daughter. I am precious to Him. I am loved beyond measure. I have a purpose.

Parking my heart and mind on His love brings stillness and peace. I just close my eyes and let Him wash me with the Truth of His love. I may grab hold of a Bible verse that resonates with me on a given day and marinate in it. New revelation and greater depths of understanding usually accompany these precious times.

One such verse is Zephaniah 3:17: "The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by His love; He will exult over you with loud singing." 

Humbling. Astounding. Embracing. God's love is all of these and so much more.

Secondly, bathing in God's love means reflecting on His promises. I choose to reflect on the promises in God's Word, The Bible, and the prophetic words that have been spoken over me that God has confirmed. I get so excited it causes me to dance - on my feet or in my mind, it doesn't matter!

I am sure that nothing can separate us from God's love--not life or death, not angels or spirits, not the present or the future, and not powers above or powers below. Nothing in all creation can separate us from God's love for us in Christ Jesus our Lord! Romans 8:38-39 CEV  

Nothing can separate me from God's love - nothing! Now that is something to celebrate! 

Thirdly, bathing in God's love means focusing on Him. The "stuff" of life has a way of sucking life out of us and diverting our eyes from the One who brought us life. The enemy has us deceived into thinking we should focus on what he is doing. We must be aware and take authority, but our eyes need to be kept on our triune God: our Heavenly Father, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. 

I've known incredible physical pain. I've lived with/through health issues that have drawn my focus to myself. It's a miserable way to live. I have moved out of that place. No "for sale" sign was posted. I just boarded it up and abandoned it. I've asked God to destroy it, that place where I've gone to wallow, to escape, to isolate myself. If I am to fulfill all the purposes He has for my life, I have to be free to focus on Him. So I've flung that prison door open and walked out into the freedom that is only available through Jesus Christ. Hallelujah!  

Finally, bathing in God's love means worship. I love to worship. It is one of my favorite things. There is a connection that takes place through worship, a oneness with God. I was created to worship, we all were. To raise my arms toward heaven with a huge smile on my face, tears streaming down my cheeks, my feet moving to the beat and songs of praise being released from my inner being - woo hoo! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Corporate worship at our church home, Bethel Cleveland, is like being infused. We come away refreshed, ignited and excited for what is next. The classes there have the same effect. We are where God wants us to be. Praise God!

We are bathing in His love! Care to join us?

I Choose Victory!

As I was praying this morning, God revealed how I have allowed fear to bind me throughout my life. A picture came into my mind. I was blindfolded, gagged, handcuffed and bound about my ankles. I was in complete and total bondage due to fear. How effective can I be for God’s Kingdom when fear has me in complete bondage? Highly ineffective!

As tears streamed down my face, I repented of being in agreement with fear. I thanked God for the victory I have in Jesus. Without Him, I can do nothing. (Jesus words: “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. “ John 15:5 ESV)

Fear was modeled for me. Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents dearly. I hold nothing against them. Fear was modeled for them as well. They love the Lord. But, like so many believers I know, they are still living in bondage to fear. It breaks my heart and keeps me on my knees.

I grew up on a dairy farm. All the crops we grew were for the cows’ consumption. Milk production was everything. It was our livelihood, the bottom line.

Out of all the occupations out there, farming requires complete dependence on God. He supplies the sunshine. He provides the rain. He determines the yield. To be a farmer who lives in peace, one must be at peace with The One who is in control...of everything.

Much of my parents’ farm is sand. When I was eight, we moved from my grandparents’ farm of rich, dark soil. If there was a problem with that land, it was that it could be too wet. Not so with sand. As I was growing up, we lived through five years of drought. Financially, it takes five years to recover from one year of drought. The fear was palpable. Every day.

For those of you who do not know me, I am a talker. I never knew what kind of trouble my mouth would get me into on a given day. If I said the wrong thing, I would either put my mother into tears or set my dad off. I’ll never forget my father’s reaction when he was lamenting about the condition of the crops and I asked, “Dad, where is your faith?” Good thing we were in the car because I really stuck my foot in it that day! I intended the words in love but I expect my words hit home like an arrow.

Our pets and the beautiful hills were my refuge. I would talk to God as the dogs and I walked the hills. I would lose complete track of time. (I still am challenged by that today!) I knew God wanted to use me, that He had a plan for my life. And I confess, fear kept me from it until recently.

Fear was a constant companion for much of my life. I am no longer willing to allow it to bind me, to control me. I am so done with fear! I choose freedom and victory!

Over the past two years I have undergone numerous medical tests. They have all come back negative, every single one. Fear was taking me down paths God never intended. And to His glory, I am healthy. He has healed me inside and out. Now I have to walk it out. I must stay in agreement with what He says and not slip into the ever-familiar agreement with fear. To God be the glory forever and ever!

In this election year, I see people reacting in fear to nearly everything. I choose not to be fearful. I choose to rest in the Lord, to pray each day for His will to be done. May His mighty hand move across this land. May His Truth prevail. May we experience revival as a nation. Have Your way, Lord!

I do not know who reads my blog. I am sure there are those who think I spend way too much time talking about the Lord. The truth is, I am His child. I have been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb, Jesus Christ.

I am not only a believer, I am a doer of God’s will. I strive to live a life that honors God. I endeavor to be Christ-like in my dealings with people. I am learning and growing. I am a work in progress. Some days are better than others. I sin. I fail. However, I cannot separate myself from my love of Jesus Christ, my awe and wonder at the Father’s love, and my need for the Holy Spirit’s guidance. My faith is who I am.

I can’t remember if it was the high school yearbook or newspaper staff that wrote the prophecies for the graduating seniors. It doesn’t matter. My prophecy was that I would be a missionary. In many ways I am, from right here in our home. I am humbled.

“But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:57 ESV

  

My Growling Stomach

As I listen to my stomach growl I can't help but think what a good thing that is for me. For so much of my life I have sought comfort for my emotional and physical pain through food. I am rejoicing at the sound of healing!

In high school, Advanced Biology was right before lunch. I often skipped breakfast in those days. Well, one day we were all quietly reading in class and my stomach let out a growl a tiger would have been proud of! I was mortified. Our teacher looked up from what he was doing, opened a drawer in his desk and next thing I know there are Fig Newtons sitting atop my books! The young man sitting next to me literally fell out of his chair laughing. I wonder if he remembers...I sure do. It's too funny now! (I disliked Fig Newtons even before that experience!)

Let's face it, I have been blessed. Oh so very blessed. I haven't known what it is to do without, not really. No matter how difficult things have been throughout my life, there has always been food on the table, a roof over my head and clothes on my back. Thank you, Lord. Even when it felt like life was spinning out of control, You have provided all I have needed and much, much more.

We all go through things as kids. Whether at home or school, we know what it is to be called names, to have word curses unleashed on us. If you look at my maiden name, it doesn't take a lot of imagination to guess one of the tags I wore as a kid. And I did not have a gastro-intestinal problem!

I stink (no pun intended!) at sports, always have. I was often the last one to be chosen for a softball or volleyball team. It hurt but then again I would gladly give a speech in front of a bunch of people (2,000 is my maximum to date). God didn't wire me to spike a ball, He wired me to write and speak and encourage people. 

I lived under a spirit of fear for much of my life. I was afraid of who God created me to be, of what it required and of failure. I heard the words "you're stupid", "you're a moron", "you'll never amount to anything" echo in my head. I allowed those words to become my identity from the time I was little. Well...no more! I am free! Hallelujah!

God has work for me to do, work that He laid out before the foundations of the earth. I intend to follow through. No more hiding, no more cowering, no more excuses, no more turning to food for comfort, no more losing myself in TV or other idols. No more! This is a new day! I feel compelled, driven even. 

Yep, my stomach growled, a reminder of the healing God has done and the work I have yet to do for Him. Let's get started!

Playing Dress Up

Little girls like to play dress-up, at least I did. I’d slip my feet into my mother’s shoes, don a hat, pull on long gloves and wrap myself in necklaces (I discovered clip-on earrings hurt!). Then I’d prance around, so proud of my “look”. 

In grade school I discovered the joy of dramatic performances. Yes, I can be dramatic. For those of you who know me well, big surprise! I performed in one act plays and dramas for school and in 4-H. High school meant class plays and more one-act plays. As an adult, I had the privilege to be a part of the Menomonie Theater Guild and the Chippewa Valley Theater Guild. What fun! Musicals, comedies, mysteries – oh my!

I enjoyed comedies the most. Instantaneous laughter is the kind of feedback any performer lives for! It was a blast to speak in a British accent (and later to be told I had the best accent of the entire cast – ego feeding stuff, that!), to hit high notes I could only dream of now in Fiddler on the Roof. I could go on and on. I guess you could say I enjoyed playing dress up as an adult, too. The only time I’ve worn a fur was on stage – such fun!

Things went a step further when I agreed to write several short dramas for church. They depicted the challenges many people face at the holidays. I discovered I do not enjoy directing. It is too nerve wracking for me. I’d rather watch my words come to life without the stress of sound, lighting, lines, cues, sets, etc.  Let me write and/or act but don’t ask me to call the shots, please!

All this begs some questions, how often are we playing dress up in real life? Are we putting on a performance or being our authentic self? Are we telling people what they want to hear or sharing truth in love?

God intends that we live authentic lives, fulfilling the purposes He has for us. As children, many of us learned to tell people what they wanted to hear in our desire to please them. Many of us put on “masks” to protect ourselves. Let’s face it, there is risk involved in putting your real self out there.  Because of wounding and rejection, we may never let people see who we really are. But God sees.

He knows our hearts. He knows our fears. He knows our greatest desires. He knows our passions and our pains. He knows us better than anyone. Are we real with Him? Or do we prefer to play “dress-up” even with Him?

Do we really think we can hide anything from Him? More importantly, why would we want to? He loves us with everlasting, unconditional love. He knows where we’ve fallen short and all the times we’ve disappointed Him and yet He loves us beyond our imaginations. If we should be real with anyone, it’s our Heavenly Father.

Even though He knows everything there is to know about each of us, He longs for us to bring our fears, our vulnerabilities, our desires and our passions to Him. He longs for a relationship – to commune with us, to converse with us, to develop a sense of trust that cannot be dissolved or broken.

God’s love meant sacrificing His Son for our sin. Jesus sits at the right hand of God interceding for us – now that’s love! If we have accepted Jesus Christ as our personal savior, we’ve been given the gift of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is bonded with our spirit to guide, comfort and encourage.  I know I don’t want to live this life without Father, Son and Holy Spirit!

So I encourage you to ask yourself, am I being real with God? Am I being my authentic true self, the me He created me to be? 

If you are still struggling with trusting Him, that’s OK. He knows you are struggling. He wants to meet you right where you are. He wants you to know that He is trustworthy.

Delve into God’s Word, the Holy Bible, to find His truths and to learn the depths of His love. The more you know Him, the more you will understand who you are. You can dress up for fun but you don’t have to live your life that way!

Blessings to you!

Linda

If you have a smart phone or tablet, you have access to plenty of Bible apps. I have used many translations and versions throughout my journey. As a lover of words, the Amplified Bible is a distinct favorite. If you are looking for a program so you can read and study The Bible on your laptop or home computer, Larry and I use e-Sword. It’s a free download. While it doesn’t have all the translations and versions of The Bible, it is excellent. 

LET IT RAIN!

When I went to bed last night, my heart was heavy with the devastation of the fires in Colorado. This morning I was dreaming I wrote and performed a song entitled “Let It Rain”. One of the kitties woke me up but it was still with me. Since my voice is far from what it used to be, I will write it out instead.

Let it rain God’s Truth, His revelation and His steadfast love.

Let it rain…

…on depression and defeat.

…on fear and loneliness.

…on emptiness and uncertainty.

…on rejection and hurtful words.

…on hatred and unforgiveness.

…on hopelessness and failing faith.

…on loss and despair.

Let it rain…

…washing body, soul and spirit with Your love.

…uniting our spirits with You, Lord.

…imparting Your inner peace.

…blanketing hearts with Your rest.

…refreshing senses with Your joy.

…enlightening souls with Your Truth.

…instilling the hope that is only found in You.

LET IT RAIN, LORD, LET IT RAIN.

Honor Your Father & Mother

The first commandment is to honor your father and mother. It came with a promise. Honor your father and your mother, as the LORD your God commanded you, that your days may be long, and that it may go well with you in the land that the LORD your God is giving you. Deuteronomy 5:16 ESV  

This can be a nearly insurmountable commandment for those who have endured abuse and unspeakable horror at the hands of their parents. And yet, God commands it.

Recently, a speaker shared her struggle with this commandment. Her mother had abused her terribly. As a teenager, she put her mother out of her life. In midlife, God asked her to forgive her mother and honor her. It was a struggle but she was obedient. Their reunion was sweet and their relationship is excellent now. She stepped out in faith and God took it the rest of the way. He honored her obedience.

I’ve also known many women who were sexually abused by a family member or someone they trusted. The enemy - in his craving to lie, steal and destroy - uses those experiences to bring deep, deep wounding. Only God, in His love, grace, mercy and gentleness can bring healing and close those doors that allow the enemy legal right and access to torment and oppress.

I can't speak to the outcome you may experience. I do know that God can prepare hearts. My husband and I prayed for months before a conversation we had with my parents about issues from my past. It was amazing what God did! His timing is perfect. Seek Him before, during and after any attempt to resolve issues or reconcile. Pray! Pray! Pray!
 

(If anyone in the Greater Cleveland area wants to know about Freedom Weekends, let me know. Larry and I just attended one and all I can say is WOW! I experienced freedom from heavy oppression as well as physical healing – Hallelujah! “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28)

 

We also need to honor our Father God. The words of Paul in his letter to the church in Ephesus describe what God has done for us so well. “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before Him. In love He predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of His will, to the praise of His glorious grace, with which He has blessed us in the Beloved. In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace, which He lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of His will, according to His purpose, which He set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in Him, things in heaven and things on earth. In Him we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of Him who works all things according to the counsel of His will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of His glory. In Him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in Him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of His glory.” Ephesians 1:3-14 ESV He is worthy of our honor and praise!

I encourage you to honor your father and mother. If there are unresolved issues – even if one or both of your parents are no longer living - take them to God. He will direct your steps and provide all you need along the way. Allow Him to work through you. He can complete a work that will bring you freedom and wholeness that can only be found in and through Him.