Two Lefts Don't Make a Right

Many years ago, way back in the Dark Ages when I was in my early 20's, I stepped out of the box and into the world of entertainment.

I auditioned to be in the shows at our local amusement park.

Now, while this may not seem to be of the same monumental import as say, oh, skydiving or jumping over 42 Greyhound buses on a motorcycle, it was A BIG STEP for me. Because, after all, that could lead to who knows what in my brilliant career of song-dom. I could be DISCOVERED by some record producer or talent agent that just happened to be vacationing in Our Fair City and whose children had roped them into a day that, for them, would not be WORLDS OF FUN.

A-hem.

Until, of course, they happened to sit through one of the shows I was in. At which point they'd be all google-eyed and wonder-struck, just aching to know who on earth that extremely talented songstress was, and how in the world they could sign her up before anyone else whisked her away to certain fame and fortune.

Uh-huh. You know it.

So I went to the open call. I made it through the first auditions just fine. I sang up a storm and really wowed 'em. I was asked to return for callback auditions. I had the world in an oyster shell. Things were great, things were swell, things were comin' up roses.

But then the callback audition came along. In this round I had to sing, but there was another monkey wrench thrown into the works.

I had to dance.



Now, you may think that because I can sing, dancing would just naturally follow. I mean hey, you use rhythm to sing, right? And if you use rhythm to sing, then you will most certainly be able to use it to dance. Look at Fred Astaire. Look at Der Binger, or Judy Garland. They could all sing and dance. So I should be able to do the same thing, right?

Wrong.

Oh, so very, very wrong.


They started out by teaching us a few simple steps and having us repeat them. I had two strikes against me from the get-go. One, I was overweight. Two, I didn't know you were supposed to wear "dancing attire," and so I showed up in slacks and heels.

Can you say "loser" with me?

I learned the steps, or at least I thought I had. But when it came time to actually DO THE DANCE, I ended up moving left when I should've moved right, forward when I should've moved back, up when I should've been down, and used not one iota of any of the rhythmic talent with which I have been so sparingly gifted.

In front of a panel of judges.

When I embarrass myself, I do it big. Really big.


The only thing I managed to do well was not to fall down. However, in my case that might have been a blessing. I could've feigned an ankle injury at the very beginning, thus saving myself and others from the sad spectacle I made of myself. It was so bad that I can't even remember most of it, much less try to repeat the steps.

I hung my head afterwards and walked out defeated. I'd made a complete fool of myself. What on earth could I have been thinking to even try? I was just happy the sound of the judges laughter didn't carry out to the parking lot.

So what's the point in me baring my proverbial faults to the blogging world?

Just this...

God didn't let me down. Even though I may have failed in my own eyes, God didn't see it that way. He had better plans I couldn't even know about.

If I'd gotten that job, I would've worked terrible hours for ridiculously low pay. I would've been away from my young son for the better part of spring, the whole summer and into the fall. I would have become a pseudo-mother, letting my own mother raise my son for one-half of a year.

HALF OF A YEAR.

Now, if you're a mom, you know how much can happen with a little guy in just a few weeks. You know how they grow and learn and change in even that short a period of time. If I had gotten that job, I would have missed some of the most important times in my young son's life. And for what? Nothing at all. So my little Baby Elephant Shuffle led to some of the greatest happiness I've ever known.

Today I use what talent I have to sing praise to God. I'm part of the band at my church, and there's nothing I like better than singing for this purpose...His praise, His honor and His glory. God was faithful to me in the Dark Ages, and He's faithful to me now. He's brought me through many more times when my own stubbornness could have gotten me into trouble, and He continues to do so every day.

So the next time you can't understand why you're going through a tough time, why things aren't working out, or even if something you've planned just doesn't go your way, it might be wise to do one thing.

Trust God.

Trust that the One who made you knows what He's doing. Trust that His plan for you is better than any you might come up with on your own. Trust that He alone knows what the future will bring, and that He will do only what He sees as right for you.

Trust Him.

Praise Him no matter what is going on, because He WILL bring you through it. Praise Him in the good times, and praise Him in the bad times. Praise Him because He holds YOU close to His heart. He holds YOU in the palm of his hand.

And He'll bring you out of the Dark Ages, just like he did me.

Even if you have two left feet.

Ecclesiastes 3:4
A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.

Just Call Me "Crash"

OK, I'm starting to get REALLY tired of this. Tonight, for the third time this month, I was involved in an automobile accident.

YES, y'all. I said it was the THIRD TIME THIS MONTH.

What is wrong with this picture???

The other times were fairly simple. Car driven by boy rear-ends car driven by grouchy lady in her extremely late thirties. EXTREEEEMELY late thirties. Fairly minor damage. One boy with insurance, one without.

Only this time it was different. It was worse. Much worse. And my car is far from pretty at this point.

I was turning left on a yellow light. Another car, trying to beat the light, ran into my rear passenger door and knocked me 45 degrees in the other direction.

Yes, I WAS WEARING MY SEATBELT. Amazing how God prepares you for things, eh?

No, NO ONE WAS HURT. Amazing how God protects you from things, eh?

And PRAISE GOD I was alone at the time. The impact of the other car would've surely hurt one of the kids if they'd been sitting in the rear passenger seat.

So if it's alright with You, God, I'd just as soon be done with this now. No more wrecks. No more crumpled doors and fenders. No more stiff necks, aching backs or shoulders. No more time missed from work, rental cars or insurance agents. No more police reports, thank You. I've had my fill for a while.

See Lord, You've taught me to wear my seatbelt. I even had it on for the last two wrecks. You've taught me patience. That's what keeps me going to the chiropractor in hopes I'll finally get healed up...if I can quit having wrecks. You've kept me honest when I could've been dishonest. You've shown me that I need to slow down. I've learned so much through all this! You've blessed me beyond measure in all these ways.

So Lord? I think I've maybe been blessed enough for a while in this area, OK? If it's just the same with You, I'd really like to go back to normal now.

Because I hate it when they call me "Crash."

Job 36:22

[ Elihu Reminds Job of God’s Power ] “Look, God is all-powerful.Who is a teacher like him?"

Psalm 25:5

Lead me by Your truth and teach me, for You are the God who saves me. All day long I put my hope in You.

Cute As a Bug

I'm sorry.

I'm a grandmother.

And as such, I am required to share with you about my grandchildren.

It's a law. Really.

It's written in the handbook, and they'd rescind my grandmother's license if I didn't do it.

For that reason, and because I'm just so blessed to have her as my granddaughter, I present to you Miss Kaylee. At the tender age of 8 months, she has the entire world wrapped around her little finger, including me. I just can't imagine how she does it.

Isn't God good to give us gifts like these in our "older" years? He knows that we may be too set in our ways to handle these little blessings on a full-time basis, so He graciously gives us the gift of grandchildren. Sweet little bundles we can love and spoil rotten, then hand back to their parents when the going gets tough and our patience runs thin.

Because, after all, we've done our time. And now it's time for the next generation to learn the joys of parenthood.

And it's time for grandparents like me to sit back, relax, and enjoy!

Proverbs 17:6

Grandchildren are the crowning glory of the aged; parents are the pride of their children.

No Commercial - Just Good Advice

During my blogging hiatus I've managed to do several things. Some have been beneficial, and some...well, not so much.

One of the more beneficial things I've been doing is cooking dinner. I've cooked dinner every night this week save one. On that night my husband decided to take us out for the evening. If he hadn't, you would have found me slaving over a hot stove, loose strands of hair curling around my sweat-stained face, steam roiling up off of pots and pans, a sink full of dirty dishes, smudges of flour on my nose, a dirty apron tied around me, and the dog licking up spills from the floor.

Not.

Because really y'all, I'm lucky to get home in time to pull whatever has been in the crockpot out, heat up a couple of cans of vegetables, make a salad and round up the troops to devour the taste-tempting delights of my version of a quick "gore-may" dinner. It may not be pretty, but it's filling. And somewhat nutritious. In an eat-it-or-go-hungry sort of way.

One of the things that has been helping me this week is that I just picked up our first order of Angel Food. No, it's not cake mix. Yes, it IS a great cost and time saver. Angel Food is helping my family eat much better for much less than I could ever imagine.

For $25, we received a box filled with 3 large bags of different kinds of boneless chicken, a pork roast, bake-and-eat refrigerator cookies, pasta, spaghetti sauce, cereal, rice, bean soup mix, pancake mix, potatoes, onions, eggs, a boxed meal similar to Hamburger Helper, canned pineapple, and many other items I can't even remember.

That box was LOADED.

You can purchase one unit (box) or multiple units. Extra items are available as well for an extra cost. This month I could have picked up 60 corn dogs for an additional $18. Instead, I chose a box of cordon bleu for the same price. Next month I can get assorted steaks. Orders have to be placed and picked up on certain dates, and the sponsoring church where I got mine took only cash or money orders. If you don't pick up your food on the day it's available, it gets donated to the needy. And if there are things in your box you know you can't or won't use, your local food pantry will be happy to get them. Because really, at the price you pay for this stuff it's like getting free food.

Now, for those of you who may be saying "What's a nice middle-class woman in her extremely late 30's with a nice home, nice car, nice job, nice husband and a fairly-nice-but-it-still-gets-really-tight-before-payday income doing taking charity like that??" let me say this. Angel Food is not a charity. It's not just for those who can't afford to put food on the table. It's not just for anyone at all.

It's for EVERYONE.

It's not a handout, but it is a way for those of us who may have tight budgets to feed our families for less. It's also a way for people who are blessed with more to be able to bless more people by cutting food costs. It's good stewardship of the gifts God has given us.

It's a blessing.

Please do go and visit their web page for further details. The address is:

http://www.angelfoodministries.com/

And now, we return you to your regularly scheduled blogging....

Psalm 107:9 ... for He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.

On the Wings of a Dove

It's been dry in this bloggity world of mine. I'm suffering from no desire. No urge to write, no urge to go, no urge to do much of anything.

I'm thinking I could live this way for a while.

Things have just been so very hectic for so very long that I feel a need to step back, relax, enjoy the gorgeous colors of Fall that God has provided, spend time with my family, get my house clean, cook some decent meals, plan for a gathering of almost thirty for Thanksgiving, read, sleep, and generally veg out.

I'm tired.

Tired of the schedule I've been keeping. Tired of not having time to appreciate the gifts I've been given. I'm tired of not taking care of myself the way I should, and of not taking care of my family the way they deserve.

And so, it's time for a bloggity break.

I'm taking at least a week off, and maybe a little more. I'm going to force myself to stay away from blogdom for a while. I may even go somewhere for a couple of days... enjoy scenery... sleep... and not worry about who has to be where when and how they're going to get there and how the schedule has to be juggled to make it happen and how early do I have to leave work and how on earth am I going to arrange all of this?

It may not be easy. But it WILL be done. Because I need to find some sanity, at least for a little while.

Oh, don't worry. I'll be back soon, and just as sassy as ever...maybe even more so. But until then, just pretend I'm on vacation.

Which I am.

Psalm 55:6
I said, "Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest-(NIV)

OK God, I'm Listening

It has indeed been a day to remember.

A week ago Saturday I was sitting at a stop light, minding my own business, waiting for the light to turn green. A young man took that opportunity to run into the back of my car with his. No major damage, but my neck bothered me a little.

No big deal.

The insurance agency had their own repair center, so I took my car in, got a rental and was on my merry way. I got the repaired car back two days ago. I went to the chiropractor, and he confirmed the ligaments in my neck were swollen and strained. He prescribed a few more visits.

No big deal.

The adjustor came to my office and offered me money for "pain and suffering," neither of which I had much of, so I settled for a small amount. They'll still pay the doctor bills, because it was...say it with me now....

No big deal.

Then today happened.

I was on my way to the chiropractor's office. There was a construction area on the freeway, and traffic was backed up. I slowed down and took my place in line to get through the mess. Another young man took that opportunity to slam into my newly repaired bumper as he hit the back of my car.

This....THIS is a big deal.

To make matters worse, I now feel like I've been hit by the proverbial Mac truck. Literally.

Since I was on the way to the doctor anyway, I continued there. He took x-rays. He tried to adjust my neck. He ended up with some kind of electronic treatment that's supposed to help loosen up my muscles. My neck is really screwed up now, and my shoulder joined the party to boot.

So the question is this: What is God trying to teach me that I am obviously having a hard time learning? I mean, I've heard of the "holy 2 X 4," but I can't say as I've ever heard of Him using vehicular education before. Then again, I sure wouldn't put it past Him.

I didn't used to wear a seat belt. Now, before you get all "up in my grill" as Daughter would say, let me tell you that I was wearing one during the second accident. After the first one, I got this rental car that WOULD NOT SHUT UP until I fastened my seat belt, so I kinda got in the habit. Lesson learned there. Point for God.

So what's the point this time? I guess I'll just have to take the time to try to figure that out. In the meantime, I'll be slowing down the activity level some until I heal up.

Slowing down??? Hmmmmm.........are you thinking what I'm thinking?

OK God, I'm listening!

Proverbs 21:11
Simpletons only learn the hard way, but the wise learn by listening. (The Message)

Just Sitting Here

I can hardly keep my eyes open.

It is 12:34 a.m. in the MORNING, and I am still up. The laundry bug has bitten me HARD, and I am bound and determined to have all of this mess completed before the end of the week. I refuse to pile all of it in the car and make a trip to the laundromat. I figure I got me in this mess in the first place, so I will do my penance and get it done load by load by load by load....

In the meantime, I'm fighting to stay awake.

Oh, I could go to bed. I should go to bed. I have an important meeting tomorrow at work that I have to get ready for, and I know that.

Yet here I sit.

Why do I do this???

I know that I'll be like a fried zombie when the alarm goes off in six short hours. I know that I'll be tired all day. I know the only thing I'll want to do when I get home is go to bed. I know all these things.

And yet, I'm still sitting here.

One excuse is that I have a skirt in the dryer, and I have to take it out before it wrinkles. Another is that I haven't written much in the blog over the weekend, so I want to get another entry in before I go to bed. A third is that I'm really a night owl type of person, and I enjoy staying up late...IF I can sleep in the next day. Which I can't. Because, you see, I have all of this STUFF to do. Which I will do. But I won't be worth much while I'm doing it. Because I'm still awake and it's now 12:44 a.m.

Why does God put up with this kind of behavior? Why does He allow disobedience? Why doesn't He just make people fall over asleep where they stand when they need rest? Instead, He allows us to run ourselves until we can't run any more. Kind of like the two-year-old child. The more tired he gets, the faster he runs. It's as if he thinks he loses when he gives in and falls asleep.

Just like me.

And so, I will leave the skirt to wrinkle. That's why irons were made. And the blog entry is almost done. So this night owl is going to bed like a good child should. To rest.

Instead of just sitting here.

Psalm 116:7
Let my soul be at rest again, for the Lord has been good to me. (NLT)

Psalm 4:8
In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe. (NLT)

Father Knows Best

There are those who are gifted in many areas, and those who are gifted in but one, but every one of us has some sort of God-given talent. It may be the skill to play an instrument, or the gift of relating well to elderly people. It may be the talent to paint a beautiful portrait or the knack for painting a house. It may be simply the ability to listen to someone who needs to talk.

All of us are given something. And most of us use those talents well.

The problem comes when we decide that although we like the gifts we've been given, we want more. And because we want more, we decide to take it without asking God what His opinion is. Even though we're clearly not meant for such gifts. Even though we have absolutely no inkling of how to do whatever it is. Even though we know for a fact we will fail miserably. We still try.

For someone who's tone deaf, it could be grasping for the talent to sing well. For someone who has two left feet, it could be attempting to dance. For someone who has no patience with children, it could be teaching a third grade Sunday School class.

For me, it's gardening.

I love flowers and plants. I love the smell of lilacs, mums, tuberoses, and gardenias. But most of all I love fresh vegetables. Tomatoes in particular. During the summer I just can't get enough.

Mom is the gardener in the family. Every year she puts out a garden that would put most farmers to shame. When I was growing up I was required to help in the garden; planting, hoeing, weeding, watering and harvesting.

I hated it.

I despised being out in the hot sun, bending over and pulling weeds. I hated that we didn't have a hose long enough to reach the garden. I had to fill up a bucket with water, trek all the way up the hill, then take a mason jar to dole out drinks to what seemed like 80 tomato plants. There were endless trips back and forth, back and forth, and with each and every step I remember wishing someone would mow the whole thing down and plant grass. Then there was hoeing. I remember trying to hoe weeds out of a row of onions. The ground was so hard the hoe bounced every time I tried to cut through the dirt. And then there were the trips up to the garden to get radishes, or beans, or onions, or whatever else Mom needed to make dinner.

The only time I DIDN'T complain was when I was eating the goodness that came from all those endeavors. Hey, I'm not TOTALLY stupid!

One day it came to me that Mom isn't going to be here forever. My supplier of fresh vegetables will eventually have to quit gardening. What will I do then? Being the proactive person I am, I decided it was time for me to start my own garden.

BIG mistake.

I have never been able to successfully grow any type of plant, unless weeds count. Those I can do in spades. With no work. No planting, even. No watering, no hoeing, and no harvesting. What could be easier? Yet society frowns on a garden filled with nothing but weeds. Go figure.

So it was off to the local hardware store. I was fortunate enough to find tomato plants at 75% off. Of course, it was August, and everyone else had set their plants out in May, but that didn't deter ME. Oh no. Because, after all, I WAS GOING TO GROW TOMATOES.

Having no garden plot per se, I decided to set all four plants out in my flower bed in front of the house. I enlisted the help of Son, and we dug and hoed and planted and watered and left my little plants to do their magic.

The next day it was 157 degrees in the shade, where it remained for more than a solid month. And did I mention how much I hate watering, weeding, and anything else that has to do with large amounts of sweat pouring from my body? Because this child was not made to do anything in the heat. Especially in the sauna it was this past summer.

So I watered. And I watered. And then I watered some more.

The plants, grateful for the water, grew. (Never mind that the weeds grew as well.) I got excited. Especially when I saw the first few blooms, which were a precursor to my delicious, mouthwatering, juicy, home-grown tomatoes.

But God had other plans.

The blooms dropped off as fast as they appeared. No amount of watering would save them. Finally, late in August, one lonely little tomato showed up. It was the size of a golf ball, if that. After waiting for what seemed like weeks, it finally turned red. I picked it and popped the whole thing in my mouth.

It was terrible. Acid-tasting, sour, and nothing like the tomatoes Mom grew.

As the weather cooled off, more tomatoes appeared. However, none of them ever ripened, and I could tell from their shape I'd bought the wrong tomato plants to begin with. Today I ripped the vines out of the ground. You know that potting soil the plants come in? It came out as well...in the same shape as the original pot I took the plant out of in the first place.

Oh, and I got the weeds as well. The big, glorious crop of weeds I can grow so very well.

So from now on I think I'll stick with the gifts God has given me. Oh sure, I'll probably try again next year with the tomatoes. Hope dies hard sometimes. But I won't neglect what He has truly gifted me with in order to pursue something that will never be up my alley. I'll rely on His judgment instead.

Because, after all, Father knows best.

1 Corinthians 12:4-6
Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone.

1 Peter 4:10
God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another.

Somethin's Gotta Give

Volleyball season is almost over. For this, I can truly thank the good Lord above.

Soon there will be one less thing to worry about. One less set of taxi-ing to do. Two less days a week we have to worry about getting to games. No more locker decorations to make, no more after-school snacky-type energy meals to fix for the girls to eat as they're going to away games, no concession stand duty, no hospitality room duty for tournaments, and no uniforms to wash.

What will I do with all my time?

For starters, I intend to cook one more meal a week. That may not sound like much, but for us, it's saying a lot. As it is there are very few evenings when we can all sit down to a family meal. The schedule goes something like this:

Monday - Volleyball game, get-it-yourself dinner afterward, me to a group meeting

Tuesday - Dinner at home

Wednesday - Trumpet lesson for Son, pick him up from lesson, stop at McDonald's for his dinner, which he eats on the way to youth group at church. Volleyball game for Daughter, either here or away. Late dinner at home.

Thursday - Band rehearsal for me, pizza night for everyone else

Friday - My evening part-time job. Do-it-yourself dinner for everyone else.

Saturday - Cleaning house, occasional volleyball tournaments, sometimes part 2 of the evening part-time job, possibly dinner at home or out with friends

Sunday - Church, most Sundays 2 services due to band. Dinner at home or at Mom's, Senior High youth group for Daughter that evening

Tuesday, Thursday and Friday - Volleyball practice after school for Daughter

The hubster does his fair share of carting children back and forth, it's true. However, when you add in his and my full-time job to the mix as well as all of the above, sometimes I wonder if one or both of us shouldn't be spending some time in a padded room just to unwind.

No wonder I can't keep the laundry done.

So, this Saturday I will be doing a little unwinding. No, not in the padded cell in the basement, but at the local Starbucks. My friend HeyJules will be there, along with a couple of other women who are much more balanced than I am.

Which isn't hard to be.

Maybe this motley crew can help motley me come to some sort of decision about what to axe. Because it's getting to the point where I feel like I don't have time to be ME anymore, much less the child of God I want to be. I need time to grow in Him, instead of just existing in His world. I need time to nurture the Spirit inside me instead of spiriting kids from one place to another. I need to work on my relationship with Him instead of relating to my work.

Yup. Somethin's gotta give.

Ecclesiastes 8:5
Those who obey him will not be punished. Those who are wise will find a time and a way to do what is right... (NLT)

Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

Where do you see God?

It's something I've been thinking about a lot lately.

Sure, there are the thoughts that God is in the little things; God is in the face of a child, God is in a beautiful sunset, God is in Nature, God is in my heart, God is over and under and all around us.

But really...where do you see God?

What makes you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He is THERE, and not just some figment of your imagination? What part of you KNOWS it's Him? What does your still, small voice sound like? How do you describe God to others?

Try this for me. Write one sentence each, and only one, that tells who God is, what God is, where you see Him, how He speaks to you, and how you feel when you know it's Him. Convince me with those few sentences that the God of the Universe is real. Make me know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the God we serve deserves all the worship we can give, all the praise and adoration we can muster, all the glory, laud and honor there has ever been and ever will be.

I want you to rock the bloggity world with your written voice! Tell of His excellent greatness...but in a few short sentences only! Find a new song to write in His honor. Compose a love poem to Him. Use your imagination, but few words.

Then come back here to read what others have said.

Are you up to the challenge? Then, ON YOUR MARK... GET SET... GO!!!

I'm excited to see the results!

Psalm 150
1Praise ye the LORD. Praise God in his sanctuary: praise him in the firmament of his power.

2Praise him for his mighty acts: praise him according to his excellent greatness.

3Praise him with the sound of the trumpet: praise him with the psaltery and harp.

4Praise him with the timbrel and dance: praise him with stringed instruments and organs.

5Praise him upon the loud cymbals: praise him upon the high sounding cymbals.

6Let every thing that hath breath praise the LORD. Praise ye the LORD.

(KJV)

All In A Day's Wash

It is 11:13 p.m. American time. I have just put my last load of laundry for the day into the washer, and hung up the last of the clothing from the dryer before it wrinkled. I have been doing laundry non-stop since I got home from my mother-in-law's house at 4 p.m.

And you can't even tell I've made a dent in Mount Washmore.

Honest to Pete, I think the stuff multiplies. Having dirty laundry is a lot like raising rabbits or guppies. It's some sort of cellular thing, I know. If you leave two dirty shirts alone together on the floor, when you come back the next day you'll find at least five where the two had been.

A girl can't get an even break.

However, there is a bright side to all this. I have found that I actually own more underwear than Carter has pills. Really. I'm not kidding. And the Black Hole has vomited up several interesting pieces of clothing I didn't even know I owned. Just tonight I found a shirt of my husband's that I don't think he's worn since, oh, the early 80's. And for some reason I don't think it had anything to do with the Black Hole.

Yes, there will be trips to The Salvation Army Thrift Store to drop off many items of clothing. MANY items of clothing. But, (and this is very important) THEY WILL ALL BE CLEAN.

Because y'all? I AM DOING THE LAUNDRY. Still.

So tomorrow I plan to enlist the assistance of certain teenage inhabitants of this dwelling place. They will help me put away the aforementioned clean laundry, and they will cull out any clothing that is "too" anything. Too big, too small, too old, too ugly, too...whatever. And bit by bit, load by load, it will be done.

And I will smile.

Leviticus 14:47 ...and all who sleep or eat in the house must wash their clothing. (NLT)

Forever and Ever, Amen

Nothing in this world is permanent.

In a way, that bothers me. I want things to be the same. I want to be able to count on things like losing weight if I eat less, loving my job, having my mother around, and knowing my husband loves me. I want to be sure I'm always able to take care of myself and my family, sure the lights will come on when I flip a switch, and sure my knees will bend when they're supposed to.

But things tend to change. That's the way of life.

Although I yearn for permanent, perfectly trimmed and pedicured toenails that never have chipped polish, I know that won't ever happen. I have to get my hair cut every six weeks or so, no matter how perfect my last haircut was or how much I liked the style. My children are growing up, and that means all kinds of changes are taking place with them. My parents are getting older and will not be as self-sufficient as they are now in just a few short years. I want eyesight that doesn't fade, health that doesn't fail, and a really good chocolate chip cookie with no calories.

Pipe dreams, all.

Because life is all about change. Nothing will remain the same forever. Babies are born and people die. Friendships come and go. People change jobs, and children grow. Hearts continue to be uplifted and broken, and the house won't stay clean by itself no matter how hard you try. Today's beauty will be tomorrow's ashes. The fairly new car we bought in 2004 will be just another hunk of metal to fill up the auto junkyard of 2020.

Nothing is permanent. Nothing belonging to the world in which we live will be here forever.

NOTHING.

So what CAN we count on? Here's my list:

1. Faith, Hope, and Love
   
   1 Corinthians 13:13 Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.
   
2. God
   
   Psalm 73:26 My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever.
   
3. The Word of God
   
   Isaiah 40:8 The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the word of our God stands forever.
   
4. We will live with God forever!
   
   1 Peter 1:23 For you have been born again, but not to a life that will quickly end. Your new life will last forever because it comes from the eternal, living word of God.
   
5. Jesus Christ
   
   Hebrews 13:8 Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

These are the promises which stick in my mind. These are the things I can be sure of. These are the permanent, never-changing truths in which I place my hope and trust.

Because without them, I can count on nothing.

But with them - with them I can count on FOREVER.

Revelation 21:4 He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.

Exposing Myself

The epizude has hit our house.

In case y'all don't know what it is, let me explain. Epizude (ep-i-zoo-dee) is just a down-home term for sickness, illness, barf-ishness, coughing, headache, cold, or whatever else ails you. This particular epizude comes with a fever, a mean upper respiratory thing, and a lot of coughing.

A. Lot. Of. Coughing.

Right now the hubster has it. Daughter is trying to get it. Son probably will get it. And me? I'm steering clear of all of them.

For the past two nights I've slept on the couch, serenaded by the hubster's hacking cough. He's been upstairs in our nice, warm, comfortable bed, spreading his germs into the atmosphere. Now, not that I didn't take the "in sickness and in health" vow seriously or anything, but that doesn't mean I have to willingly subject myself to the untold horrors of contagious disease. I mean, all I have to do is fix lots of chicken noodle soup and provide lots of fluids and a "poor baby" every now and then, right? I don't actually have to KISS him or anything, do I???

Tonight, however, I will acquiesce. I will take the risk. I will bite the bullet. I will sleep in my own bed, with my own husband, with my head on my own, comfortable pillow. Some things are more important than the risk of illness, and sleeping with my spouse is one of those things. I must admit that I miss snuggling up next to him, listening to his even breathing and slight snore.

Among other things.

A-HEM.

Besides, he's promised not to breathe on me.


Ephesians 5:33
Nevertheless let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife [see] that she reverence [her] husband.
King James Version 1611, 1769

Farewell, Mon Frere!

It has been, and will be, a hard week.

During the lifetime God has given us on this earth, there are times when we come together with others for a season. We meet those people in strange ways or in common ways, but in ways that bind us together as friends. And then, the time comes when God calls us to different paths. The season is over, and new opportunities and friends await us on the horizon.

The coming together is easy. The parting is always hard.

On Friday, my boss of the past three years will be leaving for another position. While I've known about it for a month, it makes it no easier for me to deal with. I've been very emotional the past couple of days whenever I realize what is coming up is actually real. And it didn't help that I had to speak at a reception honoring him today. The only way I could get through it without dissolving into tears was by making jokes. He deserves better than that.

To remedy the situation, let me tell you how I really feel.

When I took this job I came with a past history of bosses that was less than stellar, to say the least. My most recent had a penchant for making employees as miserable as possible through downgrading comments, angry outbursts, and controlling behavior. I put up with it for six years, always hoping it would change. It never did.

When I interviewed for this position, I decided to let God handle everything. I would not be afraid to tell about the work He'd done in me through my past boss, nor would I accept any less than His best for me with my next one. And His best is certainly what I got.

I was given the gift of Roger.

He came across as a very professional person in the interview. Business suit, proper with a capital "P" and ready to hire. I made no bones about my faith, my desires, and my past. If I got the job it was going to be a God thing, and nothing to do with me.

I got the job.

After training for a week with the person I was replacing, I was on my own. It was a big job for someone with so little training time, but Roger had confidence in me. After I began in earnest by myself, I didn't really know what to expect from him. Would he turn out to be like my last boss? Would he ignore me? Would he think of me as someone who would run at his beck and call? Would I be expected to get his coffee???

What had I gotten myself into?

My questions were answered in short order.

The first day I was left to my own devices, I heard something strange coming from his office. It was Roger speaking to me...in a Swedish accent!

"God," I said, "You are INDEED good!!!"

This was my first hint that I had a kindred spirit for a boss. Our fake accents and our relationship grew from there. We were able to joke and kid around, but at the same time get serious work done. We talked, we laughed, we blew off steam. We spent endless hours working to aid the homeless and hurting in our area, as well as helping those in the areas stricken by hurricanes. We had a common goal, a common Lord, and an uncommon relationship. Those who work with us affectionately called me his second mom. Others joked that we were worse than an old married couple as they heard the banter back and forth between us. I felt as though I worked WITH Roger, not just FOR Roger.

I had hopes it would never end. But God had other plans.

Roger was offered a new position at his alma mater. One that would have him getting out among people more. One better suited to his talents. One he felt God was calling him to.

It broke my heart. But who am I to argue with God?

And so this Friday I will say goodbye. I will wish him godspeed as he goes off to his new adventure. I will pray for his safety, his health, and his family as he takes on the challenge God has set before him. Oh yes, I will cry. Buckets and buckets of tears.

And I will thank him for all he has become to me. Not just my boss, but my friend.


Isaiah 55:12
For you will go out with joy And be led forth with peace; The mountains and the hills will break forth into shouts of joy before you, And all the trees of the field will clap {their} hands.
New American Standard Bible © 1995 Lockman Foundation