Piano Practice

Today, I was transported back in my mind three decades or so—my granddaughters were preparing for their weekly piano lessons. The older one has been taking lessons for about a year, and the younger one just started five or six weeks ago. They are so much like their mother and aunt and it causes several emotions to surface in me.

I realize that learning to read music is much like learning a foreign language. I remind the girls that they could never read a book had they not learned the letters that made up the words. I preach to them that a reader must know EVERY letter, not just the easier ones but even the q’s and z’s. A reader must have practiced every sound so without even thinking about it, the words come automatically.

Reading music is much the same—the would-be musician must learn EVERY note and practice each so that without thinking, the note becomes an automatic part of the person. Then, and only then, can they actually “read” music and play a piano; and then, with diligent practice, they can play beautiful music.

Unfortunately, the girls (like the rest of us) would rather spring full bloom into super pianists without the dull training involved in learning and practice.

With some badgering on my part and a semi-willing attitude on theirs, they seem to be making progress. I love to see them smile when they “woodshed” and learn a song and then play it for anyone who will listen. Although they are doing well for their age and experience, they have much to learn, much to practice, and far to go to become all they can be.

I have come to believe that being all God wants us to be as a Christian on a daily basis is much like playing a piano—it is a learned activity that requires diligent learning and practice. Many of us think we can go to church, sing a few songs, hear a scripture and a short sermon, and then go forward to do battle with the kingdom of darkness and grow into pillars of the kingdom of God.

I think we must rather learn God’s word and put it into practice if we are going to become all we can be in His kingdom. It would be easier, of course, to be able to spring full bloom into spiritual giants, but like the piano, excellence comes from learning and from practice. We each have much to learn, much to practice, and far to go to become all we can be.

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.  The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.” Matthew 7:24-25 

♫ Practice makes perfect

Practice makes perfect

I guess if I practice then

Perfect I’ll be. ♫

These are the Words I Would Say . . . .

I can’t explain it but I am a fan of the TV series, NCIS. I prefer to skip the first ten minutes because it’s generally too gory for my taste, but I find the rest of the show entertaining as the team solves mysteries and the characters interact with each other.  

A few nights ago, when sleep eluded me, I watched a dvr’d episode. I do that sometimes for “white noise” in hope I will fall asleep and miss it; but that night, I found myself stepping into the storyline. 

Well, I should qualify that—I stepped into the premise of the storyline. Agent Gibbs was sitting in a diner and the audience saw the flash of a figure coming toward him with a gun. The scene blurred dreamlike, and he was still in the diner but obviously not as it was. He spoke to the waitress whose back was turned, and he (and we) learned it was his mother as a young woman. 

The diner was now full of people from his past, many of whom had died. The rest of the story showed each talking to Gibbs about past decisions he had made in his life. It had hints of the Christmas classic “Wonderful Life” as there were considerations of the effects from his decisions. 

That’s where I joined the story. I began to look back at my own life, and in this process, I concluded I would have been kinder to others and less focused on me. These are, if given such a chance, some of the things I would say: 

♥ To my darling child who died eight days after his birth:  I wish you could have stayed to be part of our family’s life. I’m sure you would have been a delight to your father and me and great brother, friend, and godly man. We think of you often and promise your nieces and nephews that they will love getting to know you in eternity. 

♥ To my mother:  I’m so sorry I didn’t understand your life and personal trials and that I didn’t help you more. I have come to increasingly appreciate your sacrifices, your difficulties, and your love for your Lord and your family. You gave me big shoes to fill. 

♥ To my childhood neighbor: Thank you for being such a wonderful father figure in my life. I think of you every time I see a box of chocolate covered cherries and occasionally at Christmas buy myself some in your memory (well, it’s not like that’s completely unselfish). 

♥ To my childhood Sunday School teacher: I’m sure you had no idea how influential you were and still are in my life. As I sat on those little red chairs, you taught me not only stories of God’s word, but caused me to believe that since you cared so much about me, maybe God did too. 

♥ To my favorite high school teacher: You taught me that that being a teacher was not something done just in front of a classroom. Rather, you developed opportunities and pushed us to learn, to excel, and to value one another. You insisted upon excellence and the awareness of our individual contribution and importance. I have sought to replicate your style. 

♥ To my friends who left this life too early:  I miss you. You each had a unique gift and shared it freely. I was so blessed to have walked beside you for a time. I hope to do that again on the other side. 

Of course, Gibbs had all this drama completed in an hour. For me, it will take longer for I realize that having received so much from those I mentioned, I must now turn and give it all away. 

I want to be a darling child of the Heavenly Father, and I now assume the role of a loving mother, a caring neighbor, a passionate Sunday School teacher, an energetic teacher of those who will listen, and a giving friend to those who now walk beside me. 

I’m glad for the chance to say these things—well worth a little less sleep. 

♫ “Be strong in the Lord and,
Never give up hope,
You're going to do great things,
I already know,
God's got His hand on you so,
Don't live life in fear,
Forgive and forget,
But don't forget why you're here,
Take your time and pray,
These are the words I would say.” ♫

The Sidewalk Prophets

Thirty-Nine

In our overview or walk through the bible in Sunday School, we are ready to begin the section of the Old Testament called “The Prophets.” At this point in class, I would hold up my hand with fingers spread and remind the disciples that the first five books are the “Law” (reminded by the hand showing “Stop in the name of the law!”) I then stick that thumb in my ear, point to my face, and explain that the next section is “History” containing 12 books (like the face of a clock).  Holding up the other hand, fingers spread, I remind that the next 5-book section is called “Poetry.” In class, we have considered lightly those first 22 books (5+12+5=22).

Moving back to the first hand, I again hold it up to indicate the next section called “Major Prophets” (I know there are really only four people, but since Jeremiah wrote two, we count them as five)—Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, and Daniel. We will learn that the five are called major because of their length, not their importance. Thumb in ear again reminds us that we have another face-full of books—12 minor prophets. And that is the organization of the Old Testament (5+12+5+5+12=39).

Next Sunday, it will be time for Isaiah. It is tempting to think that especially these Old Testament pages were good for that time and even important for the times Jesus lived, but have little to do with today. Well, I ordered a book yesterday based on Isaiah which suggests that we are in a time of progressive judgment on our nation.

I don’t know how to take much of what is “prophesied” these days, and yet I hungrily seek the voice of God’s prophet. One of my favorite verses is Amos 3:7 “Surely the Sovereign LORD does nothing without revealing his plan to his servants the prophets.” The most difficult but important thing is to know just WHO is speaking the words of God.

I’m sorry to admit that God certainly could and may well be bringing judgment on the U.S. for turning away from Him and from its founding principles. We, as a nation, used to be “one nation under God,” but now we are a mess—spiritually (more and more dismissing God and His word from our midst while displaying a cavalier attitude toward sin), physically (hurricanes, floods, droughts, tornadoes, earthquakes), mentally (lower test scores, higher dropout rates, child hunger, and school violence), financially (who even knows the national debt let alone the future of health care and coming tax levels), and socially (divorce, violence, terrorists, drugs, prison populations, and expressed hatred).

Are we seeing the results of a nation who has chosen to move out from the hand of God’s provision? In our class, we want to look to the prophets of and strain to hear any messages God may be revealing.

Isaiah 3:8-9, 10

Jerusalem staggers,

Judah is falling;
their words and deeds are against the Lord,
defying his glorious presence.
 The look on their faces testifies against them;
they parade their sin like Sodom;
they do not hide it.
Woe to them!
They have brought disaster upon themselves.

So, is it woe for us?  I’d say join me in holding on to the next verse:

Tell the righteous it will be well with them,
for they will enjoy the fruit of their deeds.

♫ “He didn’t bring us this far to leave us

He didn’t teach us to swim to let us drown
He didn’t build a home in us to move away-
He didn’t lift us up to let us down.”  ♫

Where He Leads Me I Will . . .

Many times I have sat down to write in this blog and have nothing. Likewise, at times I have tried to write a song and find no words come. (Actually, I wrote a goofy song about not being able to write a song when I wanted to so badly).

It has been my experience, however, that if I will just start, words will come. My mind will settle and some degree of clarity will emerge. Often, I go back to the beginning and completely delete the first few paragraphs or song lyric lines yet discover an idea inside me that wanted to be expressed. Before that idea ever materialized, I just had to begin.

We have always heard it said that you can’t steer a car unless it’s moving and the rudder on a ship won’t work until the boat sets out. Perhaps that’s how God’s guiding spirit works. Perhaps we have to take a few baby steps forward toward God to allow Him to guide us into His will for us.

Joel 3:14 describes how most of us feel; “Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision!”  The VALLEY of decision—it sure feels like a valley, doesn’t it? Being unsure of what to do is a place of insecurity, dread, and even fear—a low place like a valley. I, for one, would rather be on the mountain top where I could see all directions. I want to know how each option is going to work out and then I’ll make my decision based upon the best outcome.  

Down in that valley, there is no way of knowing what’s ahead. It’s like being in traffic behind a semi-truck—no view of what is down the road. The driver must drive blindly forward, constantly apprehensive about changes, hoping not to miss the signs for exit ramps.

Yet, sitting stationary there in that valley, it’s difficult to receive guidance. I want it to be like Isaiah 30:21, “Right behind you a voice will say, ‘This is the way you should go,’ whether to the right or to the left.” I want it to be that clear. I want to make only the right decision.

Perhaps that’s the whole thing about faith—trusting that as we take the first few steps while listening constantly for the voice of guidance, He will guide us. I picture a shepherd guiding a silly sheep with his staff, first tapping it on this side and then on that. I would prefer the shepherd go first and let me follow; but unfortunately knowing myself (and other silly sheep), I would get distracted or dawdle, wander off, and not follow.

Faith, it’s not an easy way to live! Yet, when Jesus asks in Luke 18:8, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?” I insist that the answer will be YES!

For the multitudes and I in the valley of decision, may we move in the direction toward Him and find the guidance we so desperately need.

Terror

The news today reports the anniversary of the death of the man accused of being the world’s chief terrorist. He was a man, like so many others, who had as a life’s goal to destroy. I don’t understand the mindset of a desire to cause terror in others’ lives.

I surely get it that there are beliefs and people worth fighting for, dying for, and even killing for if there is no other way to defend them. I think about Jesus praying in the garden and asking his Father if there might be some other way than the one filled with terror, pain, and death. I think of Jesus asking his Father to forgive those who were the very tools of the terror, pain, and death. Jesus, the Prince of Peace, refused to be a terrorist.

The other evening, my farmer and I watched a movie called Wild Hogs with Tim Allen and John Travolta. It is a comedic story of four middle-aged men, frustrated with life in their post-youth phase (mid-life crisis), who take a cross-country motorcycle trip. Soon, they meet a motorcycle gang, the Del Fuegos, and as you would expect, trouble ensues. Both groups end up in a small town which has been regularly terrorized by that gang of bullies.

As I watched, I thought (yes I know it was fiction) that the gang was an example of terrorists who had no real cause except a lust to show off their power. They were mean!

Yesterday, May 1, the “Occupy” movement wanted to cause chaos around the nation in the form of destroying this and that. Last fall, that movement cost us taxpayers untold thousands of dollars as they protested whatever and trashed places leaving behind much filth. They terrorized anyone who disagreed with them.

Earlier, groups called “Tea Party” had demonstrated. However, they obeyed laws, made their point, and cleaned up after themselves. They were taxpayers and cost other taxpayers very little. They did not resort to terrorism; they went to the voting booths. Their ideals resulted in a change in the elected officials in Washington.

It seems to me to be a no-brainer which group would be supported by our government and by the media? But it wasn’t. The law-abiding citizens were and still are ridiculed and criticized. Does that make any sense?

Since 9-11, we live in the shadow of terrorism—of fear for our lives. We are afraid of terrorists who willingly blow themselves up to kill and cause maximum havoc. We are afraid of terrorists who have sneaked into our country across unsecured borders. We are afraid of terrorists who have moved to our country and enjoy its blessings yet seek to destroy it. We are afraid of the thugs that our ungodly society has created in the name of freedom from religion.

Terror—it is so obviously from the kingdom of darkness. But, we have a God, whose Son took the terror for us to give us peace. We can now claim the promises of God—Psalm 91:5 “You shall not be afraid of the terror by night. . .” and 2 Timothy 1:7 “For God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”

Taylor Swift wrote and sang a song about mean people:

♫ Someday I'll be living in a big old city
And all you're ever gonna’ be is mean
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me
And all you're ever gonna’ be is mean
Why you gotta be so mean?
All you are is mean and a liar and pathetic
and alone in life
And mean, and mean, and mean, and mean
Why you gotta’ be so mean?  ♫

Our Restaurant



Self-Discovery

I learned something about myself today—I am into trouble avoidance. 

It all began this morning at our weekly ladies’ prayer group. I love this group. Many have known each other for 30+ years and have shared births and deaths and laughter and tears. 

To understand this epiphany, there are two things you need to know. First, my family owns a restaurant. It is a neat place where people meet and eat, where several pastors come for coffee and personal study, and where our prayer group meets on Thursday mornings.

Secondly, this week a murder trial is starting. While that may be a ho-hum daily occurrence in a city, that’s not so in our town.  I don’t personally know any of the people involved, but some have a reputation of not being the prayer meetin’ type.

Now I must also explain that our restaurant shares a parking lot in the back with the sheriff’s department/jail and with the court house. Ordinarily, that’s a comforting thing when we close at night.

However, this morning as I parked in the back for prayer group, three state policemen were standing waiting nearby amid many cars. I looked around realizing that I was parked on the very path between the jail and the courthouse where those involved in the trial would be walking at any minute. I skulked quickly across the parking lot and hurried into the back kitchen door, hoping I would not be accosted or shot.

 As the prayer group ladies gathered, one mentioned that she was so disappointed that she was not chosen for jury duty. Two others indicated they planned to go to the courthouse and watch the trial. I almost collapsed in laughter as I described my cloak-and-dagger trip across the parking lot.

I shared a college memory of the late 60’s when campus riots were breaking out across the country. That spring at SIU, every evening a growing crowd of protesters would gather at the Moo & Cackle near our apartment and protest. I found the mob scene alarming, and insisted that we stay inside. Not so our older retired neighbors. They sat out in lawn chairs enjoying the fray.

It very much seemed that the college scene was repeated today in the parking lot, and I decided it was time for me to stop hiding, stand up, and walk like a man (or a wo-man). I opened the back kitchen door, I stepped out into the sunshine, and I walked nonchalantly to my car. I never looked cautiously to the right or left. Good for me! (well, it was the middle of the morning and no one was anywhere in sight).

And tomorrow? Well, we’ll see. . .    Isaiah 41:10  

Too Much Paper

As I sit at the desk and look around, I am appalled by the amount of paper surrounding me. Honestly, I would think the post office would be making money hand over fist with all the paper they deliver to our house. Day after day, we get catalogues, credit card invitations, requests for money, and, of course, bills. 

You would expect that retired people would be exempt from all that, er well that junk. In the years when I was working, I did need more clothes than now or so I thought. I tried not to have just my Monday outfit, Tuesday outfit, etc. Earlier in my life, I knew what day it was by looking down and checking my duds, but now not so much. I have plenty of leftovers in my closet to throw on.

My farmer also does not need more clothes as he wears a makeshift uniform every day—jeans, t-shirt, and flannel shirt—less if it’s hot and more if it’s cold. Layers! That’s his motto, plus a jacket or two in the truck (our farm is about 35 miles from our house, so he has to be prepared).

I said all that to say, we don’t need catalogues every week or two full of the latest fashions. Seriously? I generally dispose of them pretty quickly or glance through them to make sure farmer and I aren’t dressing out of a different century. On second thought, maybe we are.

But the paper continues to stack up. On the desk, we have an expandable file folder filled with folders and papers for each of us about retirement, insurance, and social security. Don’t even think there is anything easy about any of those. I’m curious to know if someone somewhere thinks they can confuse any post-middle aged people who are over, oh I don’t know, over 55 or 60 or 65. Perhaps those someones think they can do or say anything and we won’t understand it. They may be right.

Of this I am sure—if I look over any scrap of paper, deem it unimportant, and throw it away, we will need it desperately tomorrow. Sigh

Redman New Lives

New Life

Spring 2012 is one that will go down as a double-portion-new-life spring for us. On Wednesday, February 15, the word came that our younger sons’ wife would be delivering our granddaughter that day. The baby’s birth brought our total to six—three girls and three boys. We hadn’t had a grandchild in pink for seven years. You might say we had had the “blues” (certainly not the sad kind).

Two months later to the day, on Sunday, April 15, the temporary tie between grandsons and granddaughters was broken. We had received word that our older son’s wife was beginning labor with grandchild #seven. My husband and I went to Sunday School expecting any moment to receive the call to come to the hospital. I was teaching the Rock Group on the book of Job—not a light-hearted topic for sure. No frantic call came, so we enjoyed our learning and fellowship with our respective classes.

Afterwards, we set off for the nearby hospital. Often I find myself frustrated and impatient with God when life isn’t lived on my schedule. Doesn’t He understand how important it is that plans work out according to our agenda? No! But this time, He really came through in the timing department.

As it was Sunday, the maternity section of the hospital was deserted. That proved to be a huge blessing for us and for the hospital. The two families involved have become very close over the eight years of the young couple’s marriage, and the two families are also very close to each other. That’s a fun way of saying we all go to whatever anyone is celebrating.

The daughter-in-law giving birth has two grown sisters and our son has a brother and two sisters plus spouses and children. Between the two families, there are 8 lively kids under the age of 10 and all were present in the waiting room along with aunts, uncles, moms, and dads. It was what you might call “controlled chaos.” We won’t include the other newborn as she was a quiet, smiling addition to the crowd, but the 7 other young ones are all, as I said, lively.

New baby did not come as quickly as we expected, so there were several hours of the 7 kids anxiously waiting. Since it was a weekend, all were able to be off school or work, and because of the timing, the little mob did not bother anyone. They took a walk outdoors around the exterior and played some lawn games, always keeping one eye out for the moment when the new cousin would come into their world.

Then came a sign from behind the double doors—the nurse flashed a thumbs-up and we knew he was here. The little fellow, just shy of 8 pounds announced his arrival to the cheers of the mob waiting for the good news.

Thank you so much, Lord, for your schedule for the birth. Given the size, the ages, and the volume of the welcoming committee, it was perfect!

The Y Chromosome

The official Easter season has come and gone, but I can’t get the resurrection out of my mind. That was the most astonishing occurrence in all of human history, second only to a virgin birth 33 years earlier.

It would appear that a virgin birth meant no Y chromosome was passed from a human father to a son, yet Jesus was definitely born a “boy.” Somehow God reproduced His miracle of the first Adam’s blood in the last Adam (that’s what Jesus is called in Corinthians).

Admittedly, I‘m a bit lost in this particular scripture, but since I believe it to be so crucial in understanding God’s plan for us, I tried reading it in The Message bible. I Corinthians 15:45-48 “The First Adam received life, the Last Adam is a life-giving Spirit…The First Man was made out of earth, and people since then are earthy; the Second Man was made out of heaven, and people now can be heavenly…”

Back to that X chromosome thing—if Jesus had lived during the NCIS or CSI era, they would check his blood type and seek to match his DNA for paternity identification. Whom would it show to be his father? How would present-day forensic scientists explain it?

The first Adam had to be covered with animal blood (skins-Genesis 3:21) and sin demanded continual sacrifices of blood for a relationship with God. Yet, those sacrifices could never remove sin, but cover it until the next sacrifice.

However, the last Adam—Jesus, sacrificed his own blood (the blood that God Himself created and deposited in the borrowed womb). Hebrews 2 says about Jesus, “Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity…he had to be made like them, fully human in every way…” Did you notice that “flesh and blood”?

“Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God” (I Cor. 15:50) but “flesh and bones” can. Jesus demonstrated his flesh and bones in Luke 24:39, and we know Jesus not only inherited the kingdom of God, but sits on the throne with the Father.

Jesus’ torn flesh was the bridge between God and humanity, but it was his blood, all of it, that paid the price for humanity’s sin. In seeming defeat, when his blood was gone, his life was gone and his body died. Leviticus 17:11 explains that “the life of a creature is in the blood…”

However, hallelujah, the borrowed tomb could not keep captive the flesh and bones (Luke 24:39 above) and Jesus in victory walked out, leaving the linen cloths. When Adam sinned, he lost his heavenly covering and found himself naked—when the last Adam (Jesus) arose, he was covered and clothed from heaven.

This is too big and too important to be relegated to a once a year holiday. In communion, we are told to remember Jesus’ death; daily, we should rejoice at his resurrection!

♫ “Arise, My love.
Arise, My love.
The grave no longer
has a hold on you
No more death's sting
No more suffering
Arise...Arise...my love. ♫
NewSong

Generosity

My husband and I eat out frequently simply because it’s faster and has easy cleanup. I suppose there is no question about the healthfulness of fast food compared to homemade, but still we are so often in a hurry—life in this high-speed generation.

We do, however, seldom eat at a Chinese restaurant because my husband’s stomach complains when he overdoes fried foods and usually his willpower (or won’tpower) is challenged there.

I said all that to say that since Grandpa was off to the farm today, my daughter and two granddaughters invited me for Chinese for lunch on their day off of school. That sounded fun!

We ate and talked and laughed. Finally, as happens in Chinese restaurants, our waitress brought our bill and a fortune cookie for each of us. Now, I generally don’t do well in the fortune cookie realm. The last time I had been there, my fortune cookie told me that my judgment was off and I would have to rely on my friends. Does that sound like a “fortune”? Doesn’t the very word assure something desirable? If I were a fortune cookie maker, I would include some wonderful (even though empty) promises.

Well, today I let the others choose first and then slowly and reluctantly broke my cookie open. I began to read, “An alien of some sort will be appearing to you shortly!” Trying to be a comfort, my daughter speculated that it might be about an angel. You have to admit, that’s a better thought than a little green Martian.

We gathered our things to leave and as we stopped to pay our bill, a woman in line ahead of us was lamenting that her fortune cookie was empty. “Here, take mine!” I offered.

♫ Many things about tomorrow
I don’t seem to understand
But I know Who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand. ♫

Open and Empty

This is a repost from April 11, 2009--and it's still true in 2012!

The word “gospel” is from a word meaning “good spell” or “Glad tidings; especially, the good news concerning Christ.” When you think of the good news of Resurrection Day, the result is nothing less than “WOW!”

The darkness leading up to that morning was appalling. The very light of the world had been snuffed out and locked in a prison of death behind a huge stone guarded by a legion of soldiers. The men who could carry His message were hiding in darkness behind locked doors, terrorized by what they had seen.

Women, whose love and compassion habitually outweigh their wisdom, would let nothing stop them from honoring their Lord, even if all they could do was to give him a respectful burial. It mattered not to them that it was politically and religiously unpopular and physically difficult or dangerous. (Remember that huge stone and un-friendly soldiers.) Still, as women do, they thought with their hearts rather than their heads.

But, it was so dark since Jesus was gone. The light of the world was gone. Hope was gone. God was gone. Hope was gone, yes, but love was still alive. Laying despair aside, they still loved and that love would not be denied or restrained by fear. They needed to see Him, to fulfill one final act of love even in death.

If there weren’t enough difficulties, they experienced an earthquake near the tomb. Isn’t that like God? The challenge was really the answer. I suppose the earth shook when the angel kicked the stone open. (At least, I would have kicked it, if I were that angel.)

Suddenly, good news! The grave was open and empty! The light of the world rose even brighter. Can you visualize the emotional shock those women felt? That was better than the Red Sea opening. They couldn’t stop smiling. I imagine that Jesus couldn’t stop smiling, either. I hope he has been smiling ever since. I also hope because of the love of his welcoming committee that morning, he will be eager to come back for the rest of us.

♫ Lord I lift your name on high
Lord I love to sing your praises
I'm so glad you are in my life
I'm so glad you came to save us.

You came from heaven to earth,
to show the way
From the earth to the cross,
my debt to pay
From the cross to the grave,
From the grave to the sky
Lord I lift your name on high. ♫

Blood Money

It’s almost Good Friday and Easter again! Over the years, new little faces have appeared at our table while wrinkled faces are missing, having gone to a better place where they wait for the family to reassemble.

I love to celebrate holidays, especially Christmas and Easter, even though political correctness has sought to stamp out those words with “winter break” and “spring break”.

Further, if political correctness doesn’t completely eradicate the two holidays, then a secular society adds a replacement strategy—Santa and the Easter Bunny. That’s an extremely effective strategy as it appeals to kids’ (and adults’) self-seeking desires. Words like “Praise you Lord for your birth, death, and resurrection” are easily replaced by “Gimmee, gimmee.”

It has been easy to create an entitlement attitude in young people. Look around. What do you see? I see a society that is the result of generations of “gimmee.” I see kids with so many toys they can’t walk through their house still express expectations of new stuff for every holiday. I see adults with so many toys in their houses and garages that their cars have to sit outside.

Have we, like Judas, for a few shiny baubles sold the very Lord who loved us and gave us the greatest gift?

Acts 4:10-12 states, “It is by the NAME of Jesus Christ of Nazareth…there is NO OTHER NAME under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.” Not the name of “spring break,” not Santa Claus, not the Easter Bunny.

Some years ago, I heard a song that I thought commented on the greed patrol led by Judas Iscariot. I changed a few words to protect the, well, whatever.

♫ Hey there, friend Judas
That’s what I used to call you
They tell me you want me
But I hear they’ve got you
They made you an offer
Of a bag full of silver
Paid you some money
To sell them my blood.

You say, it’s not about me
And it’s not about you
Or the good and the bad times
We’ve both been through
When the lines between brothers
And justice have changed
You do what you've got to
You can't walk away

I wonder what would have happened
If you’d seen it plain
That I was the hero
Would things be the same
I would have traded
My life for your own life
I came to pay
The debt in your place.

Blood money, that’s what they call it
But money for blood,
That’s no fair exchange
Blood money bought and then sold you
Your conscious is all you
Can take to your grave. ♫
Borrowed from Jon Bon Jovi

Conquer, Lose, or Just Get Tired

The title seems to describe wars since World War II. I don’t remember much about it. I do remember some men fighting in the Korean War, but I was pretty young. We watched M.A.S.H. for several years so knew a bit about that war—at least the Hollywood version of it.

The Viet Nam war was horrendous for my generation. Many very young men, boys really, in my world were drafted and sent to the jungles. My husband’s birthday was in the lottery, and each day we waited for a dreaded letter. My first love (well he wasn’t, but at that age, I thought so) was killed a few days after being there.

Since then, Desert Storm and a variety of other Middle Eastern wars have and are being fought. I have watched the news as well as TV shows using war plot lines; and again, I think I have an idea of the Hollywood version.

The thing that confuses my uneducated thinking is the question of how hard did the leaders try to conquer in those wars. Stories that came back painted a picture of taking a hill one day and taking the same hill again.

Did anyone Win? I know that many Lost—lost their lives, loved ones, homes, villages, etc.

Or, did we just get tired?

Today I participated in my own insignificant battle with a large company—a vague foe out there that is unseen and apparently unreachable. This in no way compares with wars mentioned above, but it raises some similar questions.

I tried to renew a subscription online. I wanted to select my package, pay for it, and get back to laundry. But, my ID didn’t work at first. Then I had to select a new password. No, it didn’t like my password. Then the page became unavailable. I hit the back key and was given a phone number to call.

I called the number and heard “if you want English, say ‘yes.’” If you want this, press 2, or if you want that, press 3—etc. Finally, I was to wait for a customer service representative.

As I was waiting, I tried the online thing again. This time I got further, so I hung up (and lost my place in line). However, a couple of screens later a message popped up that an error had occurred, It gave me that phone number. I called—“if you want English, say ‘yes.’”--same routine.

While I waited, I tried the online method again. This time I selected whatever looked most like what I wanted and was given a “Submit” button.

I was just tired—I hit submit. Who knows what I ordered?

Oh, Be Careful Litle Eyes. . .

I am, with the Lord’s help, seeking to be understood for the past couple of posts in this blog.

I’ve shared this before, but it is a significant part of who I am—some years ago, I felt the Lord told me that I was to be a watchman. I don’t know for sure what that means, but I do know that he said in Ezekiel 33:6 “If the watchman sees the sword coming and does not blow the trumpet to warn the people…I will hold the watchman accountable for their blood.”

You may scoff, but I take that “holding the watchman accountable for their blood” part very seriously. I’m extremely obsessive about my salvation and my obedience to His call.

Ezekiel 33:9 goes on to say, “But if you do warn … and they do not do so, they will die for their sin, though you yourself will be saved.”

So, if I warn you about something, it may be that I’m am protecting my own salvation, or it may be that I care deeply about you and want you to be aware of suspected trouble, or it may be both. That reminds me of a song. . .

♫ Blow the trumpet in Zion, Zion
Sound the alarm on My holy mountain
Blow the trumpet in Zion, Zion
Sound the alarm! ♫

That’s what I have been doing in my very preachy rantings the past two days. It would be far easier for me to merely take care of my own household—children and grandchildren—and let everyone else go whatever way they choose. However, there is that “watchman” thing, and I do care fervently about the generation that follows me and especially about the kids.

Don’t you want them to live in a better world than the one we live in--a world of selfishness, bullying, violence, fear, hunger, etc.?

What are we doing to seek a better world for them? What we feed, grows! What are we feeding the little ones—on TV, in books, in movies, in video games, in role models? Do you want kids to live out your entertainment?

Can the schools undo what is done at home? Can the church?

♫ Oh, be careful little eyes what you see;
Oh, be careful little eyes what you see;
There’s a Father up above,
And He’s looking down with love
So be careful little eyes what you see. ♫

Soapbox - Take Two

I live in a very small world—a small town in an small unknown part of a Midwestern state; and, as such, I am not “with it.”

Usually, that’s all right with me as I look at life through rose-colored glasses and make believe that all is right with the world. Then I read or watch the news and am shaken back into reality. I see a world where peace and life are so fragile.

You, too, read about places at home and abroad that are a festering boil of social unrest. Just as the earth responds to built up pressure by a volcanic eruption or devastating earthquake, so are human conditions with pressures intensifying awaiting one explosion after another.

Yesterday, I blogged about caustic results of the choices we are making as a nation, especially upon the lives of our children. Today, I stumbled upon a new attack on our kids, a new youth craze (well, new to me, but well known and greatly anticipated by many youth).

I have been appalled by two what I would call movements of children/youth literature in the past few years. I have several friends who consider Jesus Christ as their Lord who have been caught up in one or both of these movements. It seems so strange for a heart who loves God to not only embrace the occult and vampires but also encourage their children to enjoy them. “Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? My brothers and sisters, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water.” James 3:10-12

Today, I met another craze—a book and movie series about killing children for sport, as a reality show. Remember when “Survivor” started, we watched adult individuals compete through trickery and cunning for a prize. The losers, however, got to return home safe and sound.

Not so in this new craze—for it is not adults who CHOOSE to play a “game” but rather children between 12 and 18 FORCED to compete as gladiators to kill or be killed. In reading about the installment which just opened, 11 of the 24 children are killed the first day. Following that, the rest must kill each other for the sport and the enjoyment of the controllers and the rest of the blood-thirsty audience.

Doesn’t that sound like a re-run of the barbaric treatment of gladiators forced to fight to the death to entertain audiences in the Roman Empire? Doesn’t that sound like Baal worship?

And we wonder why we have so much violence and bullying in schools. . . People, it’s time we make a choice. What kind of world do we want?

“How long will you waver between two opinions? If the LORD is God, follow him; but if Baal is God, follow him.” I Kings 18:21

Carol's Soapbox 3-22-12

Judges 21:25 is one of the most telling descriptions of life without God. It was written about the nation of Israel thousands of years ago, but certainly is just as pertinent to us today, “In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes.”

It was then, as well as now, a time of “humanism,” where each person rather than God was the basis for choices, for lifestyles, and for mindsets. In the days of the judges, the people were too progressive and too modern to follow God. Doesn’t that sound familiar?

Is Christianity old-fashioned? Are churches relegated to the gray-haired crowd while the younger, smarter generations have so many more entertaining activities to hold their focus?

How is that working out for us individually and as a nation? Are we better off than we were years ago?

My heart has been heavy for the kids who are the first victims of our progressive lifestyle—little children who are “throw aways,” unwanted, uncared for, and merely the accidental results of irresponsible physical choices. Since the 1950’s, core values have crumbled. We look back and mock at Happy Days, Ozzie and Harriet, and the Cleavers. Sixty years later, we are so much smarter, kinder, hipper, and more modern. Really?

Are there fewer broken homes? Fewer at-risk children? Lower welfare rolls? Lower prison population? Are there higher test scores in schools? A more robust economy? Safer communities?

It’s not rocket science to see that crumbling morality is enormously expensive, hazardous, and counter-productive to a nation. Yet, our national leaders continue to rush blindly in the wrong direction.

One example I feel strongly about is that our educational leaders spend our money to punish the schools for not solving the “education” problem. It isn’t an education problem, it’s a sin problem. Hungry, scared, lonely little kids can't learn very well. Duh!

Today, gas is just a hair under $4 a gallon, taxes are rising, regulations are multiplying, freedoms are dwindling, and unfortunate little children are being sacrificed on the altar of an irresponsible attitude of “I’ll do whatever I want—I am my own king.”

It didn’t work for Israel and the judges, and it’s certainly not working for us. What are we supposedly enlightened people thinking? (End of Soapbox)

Grandpa, Grandma, and Journey

There Ain’t No Place That I’d Rather Be. . .

March 19, 1966 dawned bright, clear, and warm. For two college kids it was a special day, but they couldn’t have imagined how special and how life changing. It was their wedding day. They were both twenty-one and had a week off for spring break. Plans had been made, invitations sent, exams taken, a tiny apartment prepared, and all was ready.

The wedding was in a tiny church where the bride had attended since diapers, and the couple was joined by a best friend and a cousin—the closest things they had to a sister and a brother. At 6:30, the little sanctuary was crowded and the music started. The church soloist sang “Climb Every Mountain” from the Sound of Music and then “One Hand, One Heart” from West Side Story.

A reception followed in the church basement, far different from the elaborate affairs of today. The bride’s three college roommates served the cake and punch. They were all named Linda. The groom’s roommate was getting married the next day, so the one-day honeymoon was spent celebrating another wedding.

Many years have passed since that day in March. There has been a lot of laughter and more than a few tears as well as five babies who came as arrows in the quiver. One of them only lived eight days, but nevertheless had an enormous effect on the direction of family life.

In the past ten years, six grandchildren have joined the family ranks with another one due in a few weeks. Someone wrote that grandchildren fill a void that one never knew was there. They are indeed a source of great joy.

Today we look back and thank the Lord above for his hand upon us and for the plans he still has for us.

Oh yes, and I must share a little of one of my very favorite songs sung by a group called Shenandoah and that describes today—

♫ There ain't no place that I'd rather be
Next to you, next to me
If the Good Lord's willin' when we're old and gray
The kids are grown up and moved away
We'll be rockin it side by side
With the barbecue chicken and the T.V. guide
Well, there ain't no place that I'd rather be
Next to you, sittin' next to me. ♫

But It's March

I am amazed at this phenomenal warm weather here in the middle of March. The flowering trees and shrubs are gloriously in full bloom. The forsythia is also a beautiful bright yellow.

Yet, there is something unsettling about something going too well, isn’t there? Am I just cynical or a worrier for being concerned that we are too blessed with this? I know, be thankful.

Okay, but I’m still nervous watching the weather forecasts. I explained last year about farmers (and their wives) being weather obsessive—especially in the spring, summer, and fall. For a couple of months in the winter, we take a little time off, but now that spring is approaching, the obsession kicks back into high gear.

My husband drove over to a baseball game in a nearby town Friday. It was another beautiful, warm day—a great day for baseball. However, remember he is a farmer through and through, and guess what he saw during the drive—two fields already planted! Gasp!

Maybe you haven’t seen the physical response to such a visual trauma—panic, sweaty palms, frantic examination of surrounding fields, and the like. It’s March for goodness sakes (we didn’t finish planting corn until June last year).

For the past several years, the unfavorable weather conditions have caused our fields to experience planting, replanting, and occasionally, replanting the replant. Further, last year’s crop was so sad looking at the beginning—small and straggly—that is after we finally got the final planting in. However, about that not judging a book by its cover thing, we had a fabulous harvest. Oh, harvest was later than we wished, but the weather held and the crops were good.

Of course, we did not have the top bushels per acre around—it’s close to impossible to have that. There are those farmers around who always have twenty or thirty bushels per acre higher than anyone else according to them, but it’s great fun to listen to them outdo one another.

My lesson learned is that we don’t see the end from the beginning like God, (Isaiah 46:10) and so often we are too quick to pronounce an early judgment. I Corinthians 4:5, “Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time…”

You know, there are some “plantings” in my life that look like our early plants last year—small and straggly. I wonder, are my prayers doing anything? If my mind wanders to assessing appearances, I get depressed and sad and grumpy. That’s when I need reminded that harvest doesn’t come at planting time.

Let us not grow weary in well doing for in due season we will reap if we faint not. Galatians 6:9

♫ Here comes the sun, du n du du. . .♫

Technology impaired—I try so hard to not be, like learning to use an iPad2 (I know iPad3 is out). Nevertheless, I am making some headway.

Today the iPad charge was down to 13%, and it was unmistakable that a connection to a power source was imperative if it were to be revived and rejuvenated. We have for charging both a direct electric cord as well as a charging stand. There is also a cord that connects to the computer’s USB port.

I have re-charged the iPad before and assumed it to be a simple task--to plug it into electric power from the wall receptacle. NOT.

If you are familiar with this device, you may have noticed that the receiver for the cord plug is at a strange angle. Thus, as I set it on the charging stand, it would not click into place. NO POWER! I tried numerous times without success. The direct electric cord had traveled to Peoria with us last weekend, but it appears uncertain that it came home with us. As a last resort, I sought to “power up” by using the USB cord and the computer. NO POWER!

Helplessly, I looked at this wonderful piece of technology, created to do unbelievable things, and thought how useless and worthless it is without power.

A light bulb went on—that’s me when I can’t connect to God’s power. I am fearfully and wonderfully made to do unbelievable things, but am useless without His power. I hate to admit but I often find my charge is down to 13% and feel totally powerless and worthless.

At such times, it is difficult to pray even for those closest to me though my heart aches to see change in their lives. I feel worthless and unworthy to stand before the throne of grace to find help in time of need. There is no joy, no strength. These are the times that I collapse into pity parties. Worthless indeed!

It would seem that often the church in general gets into that funk. Timothy said, “People…have a form of godliness but deny its power.” How can the church be effective when it denies power, when it has no power? How can I?

The answer is to connect to God’s power supply. There has to be a direct link to God to be revived and rejuvenated. Oh, sometimes I can connect easily and my spiritual charge surges to a high percentage; but often I struggle to find the needed connection, just like that darn iPad today. It was a fabulous picture of the need for recharging.

“…The God of Israel gives power and strength to his people.” Psalm 68:35
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power...” 2 Timothy 1:7

♫ I go to The Rock of my salvation
I go to the stone that the builders rejected
I run to the mountain and The Mountain stands by me
When the earth all around me is sinking sand
On Christ, the solid rock I stand
When I need a shelter, when I need a friend
I go to The Rock. ♫
Dottie Rambo

Techies & Nuggets

Every time I set out to learn (or update myself) on some new technology, I am struck by the undeniable need for training so that the technology can accomplish at least a portion of its potential for me.

When I first began to type on a word processor, I was thrilled at the difference from a typewriter. Some of you may be old enough to remember typing and “erasing.” In college, I worked for a time as a secretary to one of the vice presidents at Southern Illinois University. He allowed no corrections on any of his outgoing correspondence; so if I made a typing error in the last word, I had to start over from the beginning—high stress.

Some years later, I met an early version of a word processor—a machine that used no paper until the project was completed and corrected. When a typo was made, I just backed up and corrected it. Hallelujah—that changed my world!

Over the years, new technologies have appeared, each providing new operations and each containing nuggets of help. I have frantically chased certain of these technologies, some I needed to teach as an instructor and some I needed to use in my years working in the new millennium. Over and over, I was fascinated to learn and utilize helpful aids that would have taken hours in earlier methods.

My life changed because of these helpful aids. That which had been known in the past was superseded by new understanding. As you would expect, I didn’t learn everything at once, but rather little by little. Yet, I could never be content to stop learning. There was always more to be learned, more to be experienced. Just when I might think I knew all I needed, a new operation would surface, and I would marvel at how it opened a new world of possibilities.

I find that the living Word of God is a like what I just described. I have studied the scriptures for many years and may be tempted to think that I know all I need to know. NOT!

I am convinced that each time I study God’s Word, His Holy Spirit doles out a few more nuggets and a little more understanding—a little more of what I need for my personal guidance or what I can share with others. These have been more life changing than the all technologies I have learned; and therefore, I continually seek to learn more, understand more, and be transformed more.

I, for sure, have not learned all I need to know. Daily there are circumstances that cross my path; and if I haven’t had the training by the Holy Spirit, I am of little value as a positive force. Without His training, there is much practical wisdom for living of which I have no awareness. Therefore, I am excited to learn!

My mouth will speak words of wisdom; the meditation of my heart will give you understanding.” Psalm 49:3

I would so much like to be a computer geek!

Greek Yogurt

A darling lady told me this morning that she loved living in Illinois—the weather's not boring. It was warm, then it snowed, and now it’s warm again. By the way, that snow was beautiful. Every bush was a lace masterpiece; every tree was decorated more beautifully than any human hand could do.

Two grandsons went out to frolic in the snow to build the proverbial snowman. My son rolled the bottom which was huge. The 5-year-old rolled the middle part, and the 2-year-old made(?) the head. His snow attire made him so top heavy that when he fell, he was like a turtle on its back. So funny! Their mother found limbs, candies, and a scarf to finish off the creation. It was a new experience.

Still, Illinois weather, as the lady mentioned, is what she and I have always known. There’s comfort in things being the same (old dogs and new tricks).

Likewise, many of us aren’t good at trying new foods. I often hear little voices, “I don’t like that” and I respond along with Dr. Seuss, “Try them, try them and you may.” But, after wrinkling their faces and squinting the eyes to taste a tiny morsel, their usual response is a quick head shake accompanied by sputtering.

We more mature people are different, right? I am trying to like yogurt and kinda’ do if it’s fruity. Yes, I nod egotistically at my willingness to try new food. Just when I think I have conquered yogurt, “Greek Yogurt” comes along with the TV commercials extolling the superiority of the latter. Here we go again. It tastes different or maybe it’s the texture—uber creamy.

You know, that may be a visual aid for spiritual food. It’s comfortable to read and hear messages on a few certain scriptures—familiar words (food) we have always been fed. Each of us may think that OUR group in OUR church has eaten those words quite nicely for decades and we don’t need any other verses.

But what happens if the Lord leads us to unfamiliar scriptures, different from what we have always eaten? What if the message, while still adhering to the scriptures, is new to us? Do we sing “Where He leads me I will follow; what He feeds me I will swallow…..”?

Or do we wrinkle our faces and squint our eyes and make a quick response of shaking our heads and sputter and spit out the morsel? Do we stand up to Joshua and declare we don’t march around in OUR church? Do we say to Jesus that we don’t spit in the dirt and heal a blind man’s eyes in OUR church? Or do we with the boy Samuel say “Speak Lord for your servant is listening.”

There are doctrines evident by the church names on our buildings that represent issues that divide us like methods of baptism, traditions of the past, styles of worship, musical instruments, liturgies, gifts of the Holy Spirit, and as many more as there are denominations. Perhaps the Lord wants each of us to break out of our comfortable handful of scriptures and seek to feast on every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.

I’m willing, but it may take me a little time to love Greek yogurt.

Plan D

I’m not a great planner, but I do better if I make lists. I also tend to make plans when there are specific activities scheduled that we want to attend. This weekend, it was a dance competition in St. Louis for two of our granddaughters.

Plan A was to be packed and ready to leave on Friday as soon as school was out. Reservations were made weeks ago and we looked up routes and nearby restaurants. So far, so good!

Very early Friday morning, the sound of the flu visiting our house was heard. My husband rarely gets sick, but this time he really was. Fortunately, the flu bug, like its reputation, proved to be short-lived; but it was unmistakable that the trip was off. Cross out Plan A.

Saturday morning, we came up with Plan B, but for reasons you don’t care about that fell through. Cross out Plan B.

Another plan was made. Nope, it didn’t work out. Cross out Plan C.

Okay, how about this—we'll go see our new granddaughter and her brother and parents on Sunday. Perhaps Plan D may work out.

I said all that to say, it can be exceedingly frustrating for plans not to work out. That’s when I turn to the scriptures for encouragement, or maybe I should call it instruction.

The LORD knows all human plans; he knows that they are futile.Psalm 94:11 (That sounds right!)

Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19:21 (I'm glad about that)

And everyone’s favorite: For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Through all the plans that have not worked out in my life, I have come to understand better and better—“My times are in your hands…” Psalms 31:15

The Day According to Asaph

Writing in my blog yesterday (after an 8 month hiatus) felt good. This will be easy I assured myself. Hmmm… What has God shown me today? Maybe not so easy.

Well, today WAS to be the start of a 3-day fun holiday to St. Louis with the dancing granddaughters.

However, I awoke this morning to the sound of my husband (uh how can I say this?) um, the sound of my husband suffering from the stomach flu. Bless his ♥, he rarely gets sick and like the rest of us doesn’t like it at all. It was evident—no dancing holiday for us this weekend. Bummer!

Then came the TV warnings of threatening severe weather and the tornado watch for us. While our area fortunately escaped the serious storms, we did experience the fears and the what-if’s—especially for our little ones at school or at child care, away from our protection. (I don’t know why we moms think we can shield them from something so powerful, but it feels safer to have them close).

It’s times like these—when my plans are thwarted, when sickness attacks, or when storms threaten that I love that I am a child of the Most High God and that He gave us a manual for our help. He’s the one who wrote down that He knows the plans He has for us, that our times are in His hand, that He is the Lord that heals us, and the one who gave us Psalm 91 as well as many other promises of protection.

I have found that the ugly dark spirits that come against my mind can best be fought the same way Jesus fought Satan in the wilderness—“It is written...” My part is to learn what the manual says. Then I have a weapon to fight disappointment, sickness, and fear using the sword of the Spirit—the Word of God.

♫ Call upon me in the day of trouble
Call upon me in the day of trouble
I will deliver you, I will deliver you
And you shall glorify me. ♫
A song of Asaph - Psalm 50:15

The Gift Goes On. . .

Oh, I’m so embarrassed! There I was at a weekly Bible Study class minding my own business when the subject of spiritual gifts came up. People expressed thoughts, mostly on how they saw other people’s gifts to the body of Christ. Then it happened—someone very kindly mentioned they thought I had a gift of writing a blog that spoke to their lives.

My chin dropped to my chest and I squirmed in my chair as I sought to disappear. I was discomfited before heaven and earth—well at least before heaven and the others in the room. Remorse, regret, and repentance overwhelmed me. If my blog is indeed a gift for the body, I have been negligent to the gracious gift-giver and have set that little box up on a shelf.

My husband (generally my biggest supporter) pointed out that I hadn’t written since July. How did he know that? I had no clue of the time frame; but as I checked today, he was exactly right—July 3! Here it is eight months later and I’m embarrassed as I begin to wander once again through my thoughts. I frantically sought excuses.

Surely God knows I’ve been busy. Again, it was my darling husband that pointed out last night that I’ve been retired from my job for the past two months. Sigh! No excuse.

However, I’m not going to wallow alone in my embarrassment because just maybe the public reprimand of my shortcoming was a visual aid for YOU who might read this blog. Perhaps God is also asking you to consider the gifts you have been given that may be stored conveniently away on a shelf.

How thoughtless it is of us to take lightly what the Almighty God has given us, whether it be abilities, passions, or gentle nudges. So, here I am red-faced but eager to do God’s will. Now, it’s your turn—what gift do you need to unpack?

Look and Reach

It’s been a couple of weeks since I have been to my blog. “Mature” women should NOT lead this busy of a life. I expected such craziness when I was a young mother of active kids, but in the golden years, alarm clocks should go unset, schedules should have lots of space, and iced tea breaks should be taken frequently. Yeah right!

This was a whirlwind week. On Sunday through Thursday evenings, many of us were actively involved in SonSurf Beach Bash—our Vacation Bible School. Also, Monday evening, my college program hosted a parent dinner/workshop at the college for high school students who were going on an overnight honors trip on Wednesday and Thursday and their parents.

Wednesday morning at 5:30 a.m., we began loading a tour bus for that trip and headed for Indianapolis for a college, career, and cultural field trip. Two of my staff were unable to go with us, but I thankfully had a couple of other chaperones. The high schoolers were well behaved; yet being responsible for a large group of kids out of state overnight was a bit of a heavy weight on my shoulders. However, it gives those kids an opportunity to participate in experiences they would never have a chance to do.

For example, Butler University was a terrific college to visit particularly for several of our sports-minded kids as it has been in the NCAA final four basketball tourney for the past two years. It also has a beautiful campus, and surprisingly, our tour guide was a young lady from a nearby town that two of our adults knew. She gave terrific encouragement and advice to the kids, regardless of where they might attend college.

We toured Lucas Oil Stadium where the Colts play football, and the kids had the opportunity to get up close and personal with the various parts of it. They learned that there are many careers involved more than just football players. The same is true for the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, home of the Indy 500 race, but riding around the track was fun if not fast. We attended a dinner theater, stayed in a hotel, and visited downtown Indy to eat at a Weber Grill restaurant. It is exciting to watch a group of rural kids visit a city—many for the first time ever.

In church this morning, our speaker told a story illustrating how kids often never choose to do more than their parents have shown them. That explains the purpose of the program where I work—we seek to get kids to see more in order to more fully seek to do more. Our slogan is: Looking Forward, Reaching Higher.

You know, that’s good advice for us. Let’s do both of those things.

As Isaiah 55:9 says:
♫ “Your ways are higher than mine
Your ways are higher than mine
Your ways are higher than mine
Much higher
Higher, higher, much, much higher
Higher, higher, much higher” ♫

Let’s look forward and reach higher!

I Need a Hero

I’m sure I have blogged before (maybe several times) about being a fossil in my career life as I approach retirement. Yesterday, that fact reasserted itself.

Yesterday, our staff took a group of high schoolers on a field trip that included a college campus visit and some “cultural” sites that many kids from our somewhat remote rural area do not experience.

I love for kids to experience live musical theater. Oh they get plenty of experience watching movies and listening to music, but only on dvd’s or iPods or other new technologies that adults struggle to keep pace with. Live theater is far different from film (at least in my mind).

We had the opportunity to see “Footloose” on stage, and since the plot is about high school students and since the soundtrack had such great tunes, I thought it would be a perfect project to introduce musical theater to the group. I should know better than thinking “perfect” describes anything especially in the secular world in this generation.

I guess I was not prepared for updates—the “updated” version of the stage play with the “updated” language and the “updated” dance moves and physical insinuations.

The music was still energetic and the story line was still pretty much the same, but that “updated” version was a visual demonstration of social change in just 15 years. I am not so naïve to think that many teens have only one vocabulary and that one vocabulary correlates with fossils, but still it is difficult for me. If the vocabulary and sexual innuendos were not enough of an indication of change, the costuming removed all doubt.

I will be the first to admit that I definitely have some elements of puritanical preferences, but I’ve been around long enough to witness the terribly sad results of behaviors that are too loose and values that have been laughingly trampled upon. I’ve seen so many children born as a result of those risky, unthinking behaviors and the school problems as well as life problems that follow. Sigh!

Still, I liked the music very much. I'm just sayin'

♫ “I need a hero
I’m holding on for a hero
‘till the morning light
He’s gotta be sure
And it’s gotta be soon
And he’s gotta be larger than life…” ♫

Father's Day 2011

Yesterday was Father’s Day. I’ve never been too excited about that, probably because I didn’t have one. After our children came along, I sought to orchestrate with them a nice day for their dad. It was not always so good. For many years, I also was responsible for coordinating the celebration to include my husband’s father.

That led to a whole host of issues that my adult kids may cringe to remember to this day. My husband’s parents loved their only son and their four grandchildren, but I have empathy for daughter-in-laws who worry about ever measuring up. On “special days” when the grandparents were coming, it was necessary in our minds to make our house look totally different from reality like it was not lived in.

Let me explain. My husband’s family was made up of terrific cooks and homemakers. Their houses were spotless, and meals would put any nutritionist to shame—entrees, homegrown vegetables, assorted salads, yummy homemade desserts, etc. They were charter members of the local “home extension” where scrumptious food and flawless housekeeping were badges of honor.

I, on the other hand, was a young mother of four darling rowdy ruffians, none of whom appreciated flawless housekeeping or fabulous entrees. I must admit, also, that organization and neatness are not my strengths. I managed somewhat to keep clothes, ball uniforms, and farm garb laundered just a little bit ahead of when they were desperately needed. I did get meals on the table at times when the largest quorum was present (sometimes late at night) and, to my credit, insisted that whenever possible we ate together as a family at a table.

Needless to say, our house never was quite “company ready”; so when my in-laws were coming for a family celebration, there was a flurry of commotion to get prepared. “Pick those up,” and “put that away” along with “help clean the bathroom” and a variety of other yelled comments flew back and forth amidst anger, frustration, self-pity.

By the time our guests had arrived, we were barely speaking to each other yet put on our smiling masks and celebrated. Why did we do all that?

We were the epitome of Martha in Luke 10 who was totally “distracted by all the preparations that had to be made.” Somebody had to do all that work and she even yelled at Jesus, much like we did at each other.

I can’t speak for my late in-laws, but I know with absolute certainty that I want nothing remotely like that between us and our children and grandchildren. I want our times together to be like Mary who took time to sit and listen and watch. I want wonderful memories of laughing faces around the table, forgetting what was on the plates.

We did that yesterday. It was a loud, frenzied time of adults laughing, kids riding bikes, and babies running and squealing. Dinner was grilled burgers, potato chips, and cantaloupe on paper plates. Well, my daughter who seems to have inherited some of the culinary genes did bring some fabulous hashbrown casserole and coconut cream pie, and those dressed up the meal a bit. Oh, and I must not forget what I am most known for serving to my grandbabies—strawberry yogurt right out of the plastic container.

All in all, it was a very nice Father’s Day. Leon got some memorable cards and I’d like to quote one of them—“All I ever learned about hand tools I learned from my dad – I’d pick up the tools and hand them to Dad.”

Mystery of Two

We are studying Revelation 11 in the Rock Group, and I mentioned to the class that it contains one of the greatest mysteries of the bible—who are the two witnesses?

They can turn water to blood and stop rain from falling. That sounds like Moses and Elijah (remember them talking to Jesus on the Mt. of Transfiguration), but are they the two witnesses? Or, will they be two modern men speaking in the spirit of the two heroes? Or could it be Israel and Judah? Or could they be representatives of believers? Or could they be you and me?

For 3½ years, the two witnesses testify to the sovereignty of God (like Jesus). The world hates them but is powerless to stop the message (like Jesus). However, after 3½ years, the eternal plan says “Enough!” (like Jesus). Then, the world kills them (like Jesus).

The nations rejoice about their great victory over God, not recognizing it is instead their great defeat (like Jesus). The two are not buried (unlike Jesus) but rather lie in full view of a celebrating world. After 3½ days, the two return to life (like Jesus) and are taken up to heaven in a cloud (like Jesus).

Then, literally, all hell breaks loose on the earth starting with a huge earthquake, which I’m sure people will arrogantly call “An act of God.” It’s time for the 7th trumpet blast accompanied by the third woe on the earth.

There is a far different scene in heaven. LOUD voices begin singing Handel’s Messiah—the Hallelujah Chorus.

♫ “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
The kingdom of this world
Is become the kingdom of our God,
And of His Christ;
And He shall reign for ever and ever” ♫

Then the 24 elders around the throne join in as they fall on their faces and worship God. Why don’t I just let the rest of Chapter 11 speak for itself?

“We give thanks to you, Lord God Almighty,
the One who is and who was,
because you have taken your great power
and have begun to reign.
The nations were angry,
and your wrath has come.
The time has come for judging the dead,
and for rewarding your servants the prophets
and your people who revere your name,
both great and small—
and for destroying those who destroy the earth.”

Then God’s temple in heaven was opened, and within his temple was seen the ark of his covenant. And there came flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, an earthquake and a severe hailstorm.”

If any of you are still here when that happens, would you tell Indiana Jones—the ark is not lost.

Sunflower (or similar)

Finally, it is getting dry enough on the farm to work the ground and plant. We have all the corn planted (or replanted) for now, hallelujah! Also, we have a good start on soybean planting (and pray that it will flourish at first planting).

I may have mentioned back in the day, that my farmer bought a new “sunflower” tool. I have to say, I don’t know if that is a brand or the specific field tool, but he seems thrilled with it and its results. Needless to say, I am thrilled when he is thrilled.

When I think the agricultural process through logically, the “end game” is a wonderful harvest albeit several months down the road. It’s important to know that in goal setting, one works backwards. One must consider first the goal and then the steps needed to reach it. Start with the end in mind.

To get a wonderful grain harvest, the plants giving rise to the grain must grow through the summer into strong, healthy plants, fed and watered, to reach maximum production. Before they can grow, there must be the planting of good seed in well-prepared soil. Before good seed can be planted in well-prepared soil, obviously the farmer has to be vigilant in watching soil conditions and preparing the soil. Before that, the farmer must have secured the best seed. Even before that, the farmer must have mentally made plans for the process, must have been fully committed to it, and must have given it a high priority in his life.

These are the steps (not being a farmer I may have omitted one or two but you get the idea) to reach that goal of a wonderful harvest.

Lessons to be learned—we all want to reap a wonderful spiritual harvest. Let’s start with the goal. What is our goal? Well, I would say becoming like Jesus. I John 3:23 “…Now we are children of God’ we know that when Christ appears, WE SHALL BE LIKE HIM…”

What are the steps needed to reach that goal? Perhaps the same in reverse order as above: 1) we must grow into a strong healthy plant that produces fruit; 2) we must be fed and watered; 3) the soil of our hearts must be prepared (plowed if hard, weeded if weedy, and stones from our past removed); 4) we must acquire and plant the best seed—Jesus said it was the Word of God; 5) we must plan for the process and 6) we must give it the top priority in our lives.

Wonderful harvests never follow laziness, apathy, or passivity. To reach the most important goal of our life, we must be vigilant, enthusiastic, committed, and give it the highest priority. A.W. Tozer wrote an article or sermon entitled "Miracles Follow the Plow." Just Google it; it should be read frequently.

I think our Sunflower is red but maybe with a name like “sunflower”—it should be yellow. LOL

♫ Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness,
Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve;
Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves;
Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Sowing in the sunshine, sowing in the shadows,
Fearing neither clouds nor winter’s chilling breeze;
By and by the harvest, and the labor ended,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves. ♫