Musings on the HER-oic Life

I am the Church

2009-10-05T12:12:00.001-07:00

I am a living breathing part of the church. I am not corralled in some building only to step out on special occasions to "bless" the world.

I am the church. Wherever I go, the church is there, the visual, living example of Christ to others.

I am the church flowing through the community, into the workplace and over the world.

I am the church and therefore it is ridiculous for the world to try to beat the church out of me whenever I am outside the four walls of the building in which I gather with other believers.

I am the church and I carry the church into every part of my life. If I am doing things well, I shine the light of Christ into the lives of others.

I am the church and even if I blow it, Christ's light still shines brightly when I am authentic, accountable and repentant. My contrition will show the world how the church recovers from its mistakes.

I am the church and when those I meet see Christ in me, perhaps they will be more drawn to join me in that warehouse where I gather with other parts of the church.

John 6:44a, " For no one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them to me..." (NLT)

God and Jasmine Care for the Sparrows

2009-08-03T15:54:00.001-07:00

There is a down side to keeping your windows too clean-it takes it's toll on the bird population. One side of our home is a wall of large windows and although I am thankful for the view and the beauty I see everywhere I turn, I do mourn the fact that our house has been the cause of death for many of my avian friends.

The summer kamikaze flights are so frequent in number that two of our three cats can identify the sound of a bird body hitting glass from any point in the house. Our third cat, a little on the elderly and prissy side, could care less about what happens oudoors unless it involves food (and I mean human grade, expensive food from a can).

My response to the "kerplunk" sound is to run downstairs and see if I can nurse any gross beaks or chickadees back to consciousness. There is immense joy in seeing them recover and fly away.

Our little Siamese mix, Jasmine, beats me to the sliding glass doors every time. Her nose twitches, tail whips and every muscle in her lithe body vibrates with the instinct of a hunter. I choose not to assume that she stands at the screen staring with laser-like intensity at the wounded birds because she is, as my husband says, "on death watch". No, this is a house that loves and serves the Lord. I have decided that Jasmine stands at the screen in an attitude of focused prayer for her little feathered friends. Her fervent feline supplications are chirped to the God who cares about the sparrows (and the chickadees and the gross beaks).

Now when the dreaded "kerplunk" is heard on the glass and Jasmine races down the stairs, I tell her to "pray hard" until I can get there and offer my avian medical services.

What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. (Matthew 10:29 NLT)

Resistance is Futile

2009-03-31T00:12:00.000-07:00

The source of my insomnia is encased in a cream and black fur coat and has lovely blue eyes. My husband has no sympathy for my predicament, he tells me to simply push the cat off the bed if she is annoying me. . This is an impossibility. Even in sleep, I cow tow to her every wish, adjusting my sleeping form to maximize her comfort.

We always start out well; she comes to bed, kneads on my forearm for a while and then cuddles next to me. Inevitably, at the precise moment that I am falling into the deep REM sleep I need so badly, she decides to move, lick my face (or worse, my eyeball) with her raspy tongue or jump on top of me and practice her tap dancing. We finally come to an agreement that she needs to let me return to sleep; she kneads on my forearm, purrs for a while and then plops down beside me once again. This ritual is repeated several times during the night.

We could shut the door and forbid her access to the bedroom but she is a willful little thing and clawing, scratching and howling are not beneath her. Besides, her two furry partners in crime would only come to her assistance and join the riot outside the bedroom. She also knows how to get me out of bed by tossing precious knick-knacks off coffee tables or tossing objects off the counter in the guest bathroom if she is annoyed.

Everyone who has ever been servant to a cat knows one thing, when they are exerting their will, resistance is futile. In our case, resistance is not only futile, it is pointless-we live with three felines. That is more mind control than I am capable of fighting.

On those days I appear a little worn out, eyes puffy and demeanor a bit confused. When, despite my best efforts, there are errant bits of cat hair on my best black blazer, I am sure I can hear the whispers as I pass, "Ah poor thing, she must have a cat at her house."

Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda

2009-03-15T23:28:00.000-07:00

Life rolls by at lightning speed and opportunities fly by like objects blown in a hurricane. That good deed I meant to do, the expression of thanks all end up as good intentions rather than acts completed. I often feel that twinge of regret that reminds me that I allowed an opportune moment to slip by me. This time it was more than a twinge, it was an onslaught of full-fledged grief.

We moved into our new house 18 months ago. We met some of the neighbors but some kept to themselves. I met the pets of the little girl from the house down the street before I met her. Her two Siamese mix cats resembled our own felines. Her cats loved to hang out by our bird feeder and take a drink from our little pond and waterfall.

I never met her dad.. We spoke twice. Once when his dog got into my back yard and once, when my husband was ill and I was trying to shovel myself out of over a foot of new Christmas snow. He saw me struggling and arrived at my driveway with his snow blower. It had been a rough holiday, my husbands health was only one of the traumas we suffered this past December. I was at the end of my rope and this man with his snow blower was the best Christmas present I received. I thanked him tearfully and told him how much his act of kindness meant to me. I vowed to myself that I would take some cookies or other Christmas goodies to the house as a thank you. I meant well, I thought about doing something to show my thanks but life intervened, my husband still struggled with his health and my good intentions remained only intentions.

Fast forward to February and I learn that this man and his daughter are going to lose their home. One week I wave to the little girl as she waits for the school bus and rescue her cat from our tree and the next day their house is closed up and there is a foreclosure notice on the door.

My heart was pierced and I was desolate. I can't imagine what that man must have been going through in December. He must have already been behind with his mortgage and worrying about his home. In the middle of his problems, he took a moment to help a neighbor, to show a kindness. I thanked him for his kindness but went no further than that. I spent several days a week in ministry but I did not follow through on an opportunity to show the love of Christ to my neighbor.

Every day the house down the street stands in silent rebuke. The notice on the door reminds me that lives once lived there; dreams once dreamed there are gone. It stands empty of life and hope and it is a daily reminder that those moments the Lord gives us are too precious to waste. It is the silent witness to my lack of obedience and love. It stands on my street and reminds me that "woulda, shoulda, coulda are never words that should be used in God's economy.

You Gotta' Have Friends

2009-02-19T13:52:00.000-08:00

On Monday afternoon, as I was preparing for a meeting, my husband flew upstairs, grabbed my arm and escorted me to the sliding glass doors of our balcony. Attached to the young cedar tree in front of us, like some sort of furry brooch, was our neighbor's cat. My husband had observed said cat from his office window as the feline began his ascent of the cedar. The expression on the cat's face, as well as the yowls emanating from deep inside his throat, indicated that he was lamenting his impulsive decision.

I would love to think that this tree climbing exercise was prompted by his desire to drop by and express his deep affection for us. I am pragmatic enough however, to think that the fact that our little chickadees find that particular cedar a nice place to hang out between trips to the bird feeder was the motivating factor for his hasty move.

It was the cat's great fortune to have chosen a young, pliable cedar, which allowed my husband and I to execute a relatively quick cat rescue, I pulled the tree towards us and he was able to grab the frightened feline and bring him in the house. Our next move would have to be swift and stealthy. We needed to get the visiting cat through the house and out the front door before our three felines realized what was happening.

With the cat tucked under my arm and one hand over his head in an attempt to muffle his indigent hisses and meows, I made haste across the dining room, past the living room and kitchen and to the front entry in record time (amazing how fast you can move when you are in danger of being shredded). Our friend was deposited on the front porch and, with one quick backward glance and a hiss for good measure; he tore across the street and out of sight. Our cats were oblivious to the drama that had just ensued.

Who says working at home is boring?

Buster

2008-08-24T23:30:00.000-07:00

It was not God's plan to give me children, at least not the conventional sort. He blessed me with "fur children" and these wonderful creatures have filled the "mom hole" in my heart.

I know I am dotty about them, I also know they are animals, not people but still I love them passionately. People who do not know my struggle with childlessness often judge me because I love my cats so much. It's a foolish thing to judge the heart of people when you don't know their story or their struggles.

Tonight was a difficult night. My beautiful gentle giant Buster died suddenly. Curled up and snoozing in his favorite chair, there was no hint of the tragedy to come. Nevertheless, come it did. Suddenly he let out a yell, his head fell back and he struggled to breathe. I ran to the chair, took him in my arms and laid him down on the carpet. It was only moments and he was gone. My beautiful green-eyed Buster is gone and he's left a hole in my heart.

Those of you who are more calloused will think, "It's only a pet, just get a new one." Buster was more than a pet. He was a cuddle buddy when I had the flu and stayed in bed. He was a clown who jumped on the sofa and bumped your hand with his big head until you gave up and gave him the petting he demanded. He was a friend to any of the other cats who wanted to curl up next to him for a snooze. He was a joy.

I dread the morning because he won't be at the foot of the bed. I won't have to step over him on the stairs where he always stretched out to catch the morning sun, and he won't be waiting expectantly for his wet food in the evening.

How deeply God's creatures can imbed themselves in our hearts. How painful when they are gone. How blessed we were to have him in our lives for twelve years. How much I will miss him.

I don't know God's plans for animals. I have no idea if there are animals in heaven, but I certainly hope so. And since I don't know for sure, I am going to imagine Buster, black fur gleaming and green eyes blinking with pleasure as he sits in my mother's lap for a nice cuddle in their heavenly home.

"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And [yet] not one of them is forgotten or uncared for in the presence of God." Luke 12:6 (AMP)

Anticipation

2008-04-07T14:28:00.001-07:00

It is official. This is the seventh consecutive month of snow. Normally by April 7th crocus, tulips or buttercups would be dotting the landscape, whispering a promise of approaching summer days and warm afternoons floating down Sand Creek in a kayak.

Snow continues to fall. Canadian geese caught by surprise in this bad weather, honk their disappointment while disoriented robins attempt to chisel frozen worms out of the edges of slowly melting snow banks. Painted toenails and flip- flops are a distant dream.

It occurred to me this afternoon as we met with the landscaper, dreaming of all the wonderful yard projects to come, that I have lived the last few months as though I were holding my breath. I haven't been living in the here-and- now, but rather in the soon-to-be. I look disdainfully at the dirty snow piles and make plans for when the days and the weather will meet my expectations. I am sleep walking while awake. I am not fully engaged in life because I am waiting, waiting for the snow to melt, waiting until I can plant new flowers, waiting until I can sit on the back deck and hear the waterfall, waiting to live fully in the glory of spring.

I wonder what I have missed while I have been waiting. If I am not capable of savoring the days I am living now, will I truly appreciate the spring and summer to come, or will I find myself dreaming away the days of hot summer looking forward to the showy splash of color in autumn? Will I look past the beauty of the fall in order to anticipate the crisp touch of cold on my cheeks during a December walk? Will I always long for the season that is to come and never fully enjoy the one I am experiencing?

I am feeling reflective, as I reconnected with an old High School classmate today This contact made realize how quickly seasons have slipped past my notice.

I am resolving to embrace a new motto, the one I saw on a bumper sticker a few months ago, "Today is a gift, that's why they call it the present". I will take the gift of today and enjoy it because I know that eventually, dirty snow piles do melt.

2008-03-07T23:34:00.000-08:00

The malapropisms of my German mother were a constant source of delight and amusement in my family. There was rarely a time when she was writing out a check that she didn't ask,"How do you spell five; with an F or a V?"

She often referred to notable people as being very extinguished and she never got mad, she got fur-ious. If she was extremely upset, she might even get her gander up.

Mom was always a bit put off when someone would ask, "Where are you from, I can't place your accent?"

"Akzent?", she would bark, giving them her best cold stare, "I don't shpeak vith an Akzent!

"One Sunday breakfast in particular comes to mind. As we sat at the large, round table and shared lively conversation with our friends, the waitress took our orders. When the food arrived, my mother was irate. Sitting in front of her was a plate of eggs, a bowl of chili and one piece of toast. Everyone else at the table with a toast order had two pieces. Why did she receive only one? To make matters worse, she had not requested any chili. Who in their right mind would eat greasy chili early in the morning?

Before Mom whipped herself into a lather, my sister, always the calm, thoughtful one in the family, suggested we review the order process and see if we could ascertain where the waitress went so woefully wrong."

Okay Mom," my sister said in her soothing fashion, "Just tell us exactly what you said to the waitress."

Irritated but willing to play along in the hopes of solving this culinary mystery and calling the errant waitress to task, my mother replied in her heavy German accent. "All I said vas "I'll half an order of toast with chelli." It was several minutes before we could wipe the tears of laughter from our eyes and calm down enough to explain the solution of the wacky breakfast mystery to my mother.

Ah, Mom, the English language has never been the same for me since you've been gone.

Waiting for the Son to Shine

2007-03-22T07:45:00.000-07:00

It was a genuine winter. The pile of snow by our driveway was so tall, we dubbed the spot the Matterhorn. With heavy snowfall before Thanksgiving, it felt as though winter would never end. Yet, one day, God snapped his fingers and the air was warmer, the sun was brighter and the Matterhorn began to turn into an insignificant little pile.

Everything in God's creation celebrated spring. The crocus began to show through the thin layer of snow and the trees in my back yard were prolific with buds. I was in a state of spring euphoria; until the morning I awoke to see a blizzard raging outside our house.

"How can this be?" I wondered. All signs were there for spring. My summer birds are returning to the backyard feeder and little shoots of green were everywhere. The whole mess left me with a vague feeling of sadness. How would the crocus and tulips survive? Would my trees fail to reach their full spring beauty because of this unexpected cold snap?

There is an analogy here for my walk with God. I thought of all the times I believed I had seen signs of spring, a hopeful job offer, a healing of an illness, a restoration of relationship and then, without notice, a violent snowstorm buried me so deep I couldn't see the sun anymore. My faith was in a snow-covered valley and I wondered if spring would ever come.

What a difference a day makes! In one second on God's clock, the Son begins to shine on my life. The melting snow cleanses and washes away all the dirt and muck that had been buried in the winter storm. The fresh scent of spring is all around.

As it is in my walk with God, so it is in His creation. My worries that the beauty of spring would be ruined by the late snow were unfounded. Tulips now peek around fences, the buds on the trees are waiting to burst into bloom and the fragrance and excitement of God's renewal is all around me.

This springtime experience has reminded me that just because I allow the clouds of my circumstance to block the Son, it does not mean He is not there. He is always there, shining, beautiful, and loving and bringing new life to everything around Him. The springtime of my faith is always around the corner. I don't need to worry about late snow. Late snow brings Living Water and refreshment to my soul when the season of renewal finally makes itself known.

The Sovereign Lord will show his justice to the nations of the world.Everyone will praise him! His righteousness will be like a garden in early spring, with plants springing up everywhere.Isaiah 61:11 (NLT)

Irreverence and Modesty

2007-01-05T14:14:00.000-08:00

Irreverence has been called the byproduct of an inadequate sense of the holiness of God. The Israelites in the desert did not yet have a true grasp of God's holiness until He descended the mountain in smoke and fire. The question for us today is- do we? Reverence and respect are concepts that seem to be fading faster than the cassette tape. Tied integrally into the concept of reverence is the concept of modesty.

Ladies-we women of the church need to be mindful of how we dress when we enter the presence of God. There are extreme views on both sides. My opinion is that we need to find a happy medium between head covering and veils and bare navels with belly button jewelry.

What message are we sending other women regarding attire in church? Does anything go because it's fashion or do we understand that what we wear in the presence of God is a form of honoring and revering Him? My mother, a stickler for good manners always told us that dressing appropriately to go to someone's house or to go out on a date was not about us-it was about the other person. Our dress was a compliment to them. Perhaps we should think more about whether we are complimenting God with our wardrobe selections when we enter His presence on Sunday.

Lest you misunderstand me ladies, it is NOT my belief that pantyhose are a requirement for reverence, nor do I believe that the road to hell is paved with Levis. What I do passionately believe is that our clothing choices for church should be made on the basis of whether they cover our chests, midriffs, and thighs.

Where are the strong, Christ following women who will stand up and say that our Lord offers us a better way? A better way than feminism, which wants to erase the difference between men and women and pop culture that wants women to dress in a way that screams, look at me as a sexual object first, a woman second. It is sad enough to know that those who do not know Jesus Christ do not know the power of being a woman of God. It is sadder still to know that those who do know Him are missing the true joy of a life as a woman of God because they choose to listen to the world and not The Word.

If modesty is a topic that interests you, visit The Modesty Zone website.

Painting Pictures of Egypt

2006-08-29T09:54:00.000-07:00

I have been immersed in the book of Exodus this summer in preparation for the lectures I will be doing for our Community Women's Bible study. As I read, learn, and reflect I am constantly astounded that the Living Word truly is alive. To take the attitude of, "That was then and this is now," when it comes to the Old Testament is to lose the knowledge of our spiritual heritage and to miss the insight into the lives of the people of that time. If we truly understand their lives, we will have a better understanding of our own.

The "desert kvetching" is something that has always annoyed me. With my former, superficial understanding of what was going on during those days, I could not fathom why these people, who had been in slavery for heavens sake, were griping and moaning about being free from Egyptian tyranny. I decided to take the journey with them, mentally slipping into their sandals, and attempting to experience what they saw and felt.

Imagine it. Your husband has a backbreaking job with very little compensation, you live in a tiny house, and you live in the middle of an extraordinary culture and unbelievable wealth-none of it yours. Some days, when your husband comes home, he is so exhausted from the heat and the hard labor you are fearful that he may not live through another day. He can't quit his job for a better one because he is a slave. Things are bad and you yearn for freedom.

Then a man comes who refuses to let Pharaoh keep your husband and your people in servitude any longer. You know it is just a matter of time. Sure enough, after terrible things have happened to the Egyptian people, your husband gathers your little family around the table and tells you that you will be leaving the next day.

You pack all your belongings and you set out with the Egyptian army hot on your trail. You despair and then the sea parts and you are free on the other side of the water. You become hungry and miraculously so many quail appear they can be caught by hand. A filling substance appears each morning to replace the bread you no longer can bake. In the midst of these amazing things, your every day life goes on. There are children to feed and to raise. There are clothes to wash and a home to be kept, even though your home is a tent. You are sick to death of the taste of quail and manna, your children cry for a piece of fruit and deep inside you yearn for the same thing. Your husband is happy, now a free man, striking out in search of his destiny. He has never had such a wonderful adventure.

Instead of the fertile delta of the Nile, you now live under the unrelenting sun in the hot sand of the desert. You begin to remember Egypt, the most beautiful and cultured city in the world. The banks of the cooling water of the Nile were covered with palms. Fruits and vegetables of all sorts were available. The streets were clean and the linen garments you wore were never dulled and dirty from the constant blowing of the sand against your body. It may not have been such a good life but it was a life where you had a little bit of control and a few amenities. It was a place that you understood and could navigate. This place, this desert is wild and unforgiving. There is no relief, no goal in sight.

Sometimes the bad we know seems better than the good we have not yet experienced. Haven't we all, at some time, looked back and decided that the bad situation we were in was better than the future we could not see?

How long did you stay in that terrible job because you were afraid of the future? How many women stay in abusive marriages because the fear of being on their own is greater than the fear they know and deal with on a daily basis? How many women have not said an enthusiastic "yes" to that marriage proposal because the concept of a life shared was hard to visualize and the reality of a lonely life was something tangible, something familiar?

The singer, Sarah Groves, has a wonderful song called Painting Pictures of Egypt. The refrain says:

I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
Leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard
And I want to go back.

Don't we all paint pictures of Egypt? Can't we all look back on our lives and think of a time when the future felt hard and we just wanted to go back to the familiar, even if the familiar was not such a great place?

I now understand the complaining of the Hebrews in the wilderness. I have been there, in my own desert, griping and cranky when God was trying to lead me into a wonderful place. You can see the tracks of my feet in the sand, the place where I dug in and refused to walk any farther. How thankful I am that I have a God who has never-ending patience and who will sometimes drag me where I refuse to walk.

Are you walking through the desert, confident that God is leading you to your own promised land or have you dug your toes in the sand, refusing to move forward and insisting on painting pictures of Egypt?

Envy

2006-07-14T11:53:00.000-07:00

I often feel guilty about my life. Not the searing, "Oh my Lord, how could I have done that?" guilt. It's more of the "I have something but really don't deserve it" kind of guilt. I am living the life I have dreamed about and prayed about for years.

I'm teaching and speaking to women's groups, writing anything and everything that the Lord puts on my heart, scouring estate sales for the best deals to decorate our home, and offering my time and talents to my church and our community; these are the things that are on my agenda now.

What has surprised me is the realization that to live your dream is often an affront to others, even those people you have counted among your friends. Take for instance, the conversations I had recently with someone I have known for years. A short time ago, she and her husband moved into their first house. I was excited for her and wanted to hear all about it. This is the edited version of our last long distance chat.

Me: "I bet the place is beautiful, you've got such a flair for decorating."

She: "Yes, well it's coming along but when you have to work eight hours a day it doesn't leave you much time for decorating. There's a lot to do and not much time to do it. I don't have the time to decorate that you do."

Me: "That's true but at least decorating is something you not only have a talent for but something you love to do. You've got the worst part-the moving out part over. Now you can enjoy the best part, which is setting up the house. You have so much more space for all your neat stuff. And speaking of space, are you finding it hard to keep up with the cleaning? I had to make some adjustments when we moved into more square footage. Then, having pets always adds to the workload. I vacuum and mop floors constantly so that there is no cat hair to be found. "

She: "Yeah, there's a lot more house work. You probably vacuum every day. I don't have that luxury since I work all day. It's pretty exhausting trying to keep it all clean and tidy when you only have the weekends to do it and all you want to do is get some rest on your only two days off."

Me (trying desperately to steer the course of the conversation in a positive direction before I blurt out, "True, all I do is sit on the sofa eating bon bons and watching soaps, it's a wonder I get anything done") "Well, I'm sure your house is beautiful. When you get a chance I'd love to see some photos!"

I won't bother to describe her response that included references to not having time to take photos because she works eight hours a day.

As amusing as this snippet of conversation might be, it is also very telling. It seems jealousy and envy are enough to destroy any friendship, even those among Christian sisters.

How do we respond when jealousy and envy seep into our hearts like a sewage spill? Go to God. Thank Him first for all that you do have. Talk to Him about what you don't have, what you want. The great thing about talking to God is that you don't have to explain or provide a well thought out argument. God sees right into the depths of our hearts. He knows our motivation, there's no need to give Him our version of things.

Often, God does give us the desires of our heart. Sometimes He shakes His head lovingly as we give him our wish list and says, "You know, those things aren't really good for you. I have some things in mind that are much better." Other times He simply smiles and says, "No, let's let some time pass, let's see where your heart is then and we can talk about this again."

Once we've talked to God, how do we handle that green-eyed monster when it jumps into our head? Acknowledge it's there, then say a prayer and thank the Lord for what we do have. There's nothing wrong in wishing for something that someone else has. What is wrong is becoming angry with the person who has what we want. Attacking them subtly or overtly goes against everything that we are taught in Scripture. You cannot siphon the joy out of someone else's life and fill your own tank up. It will just spill all over the place and just make a big mess.

As for me, I have vowed to throw up a dart prayer every time someone tries to make me feel guilty because I have been blessed. And when I feel the old covet monster trying to creep into my head, I will talk it over with God. Funny how those conversations always seem to shed a bright light on my motives, funny how most of the time what I think I want isn't what I want or need at all!

Finally, I will keep the words of James 4:1-3 in my heart.
"Where do you think all these appalling wars and quarrels come from? Do you think they just happen? Think again. They come about because you want your own way, and fight for it deep inside yourselves. You lust for what you don't have and are willing to kill to get it. You want what isn't yours and will risk violence to get your hands on it. You wouldn't think of just asking God for it, would you? And why not? Because you know you'd be asking for what you have no right to. You're spoiled children, each wanting your own way." The Message

I vow to be grateful every day and sing praises to the Lord, because it is pleasant and fitting to praise Him. I do believe He delights in those who fear Him and who put their hopes in His unfailing love.*

*Psalm 147

All My Children Wear Fur Coats

2006-06-22T11:54:00.000-07:00

Dealing with the loss of a child at birth is an event that haunts you forever. I cannot count the years that I could not bear to go to church on Mother's Day because of the inevitable command from the pulpit. "Let's have all the mothers stand up and be recognized." Was I a mother by technicality? Would I deny my child by not standing up? If I do stand up, will I have to answer too many questions after the service? Taking the path of least resistance, I chose to take a Sunday off, every time Mother's day rolled around.

I waited for many years. I waited for the Lord to bring a man into my life. I waited for another chance to be a mom. I waited, and waited and waited. Just when I had given up all hope, God chose to bring a wonderful man into my life. God did not choose to bring any children, however.

That part of me that so longed to mother turned toward animals. We adopted one rescue cat, then another. When the first two were about eight we adopted two more (they were siblings and well, we just couldn't separate them). These fabulous felines have filled a gap in my heart. They are part of our family. When I am sick, they cuddle next to me in bed. Just when I am taking life (or myself) far too seriously, they do something funny and I am soothed with cleansing laughter.
They greet us in the morning, each taking a turn to come over, rub against our leg and turn their heads up for a quick ear scratch.

All that love that was bottled up inside me now has an outlet; they have healed my broken heart and allowed me to accept God's will for my life. They have freed me to love and work with the children of others. They have shown me what unconditional love is. A love that says, "I love you because you are you." The kind of love my Father shows to me continually.

I can go to church on Mother's day now. There is a sad remembrance, but no pain. As the pastor commands the mothers in the sanctuary to "stand up" I sit and clap for them and think about those furry creatures at my house who will soon be sitting in my lap and resting their heads on my computer keys. God's plans for us are not always our plans, they are so much better!

Mississippi Musings

2006-06-01T10:20:00.000-07:00

Whenever I visit the south, I feel as if I have landed on foreign soil. There is something otherworldly about this place. It is as if life everywhere else runs at 70 mph but in the south, life's maximum speed limit has been reduced to 45mph. My type-A, "lead, follow or get out of the way" personality is not common in the south. I learn to exchange pleasantries and assume that any transaction will take three times as long as it does anywhere else. As my husband is fond of saying, "It is what it is" and what it is a slow paced and gracious way of living.

Introductions are quite a lovely ritual in the south and go something like this…

"Hey Mary, I want you to meet Anita." Mary leans in, smiles graciously, and takes me by the hand in a friendly grasp. She speaks in a soft drawl that covers the conversation like warm praline syrup covers a waffle. "It's so naaa-ice to meet you Anita. Where are ya'll from?" The question is delivered with a smile and a look that seems to indicate that nothing in the world is more important to Mary at that moment than learning more about me.

There is an elegance in interaction that is not overt or overpowering. It is just a part of who southerners are. The social graces are evident everywhere. This causes me to mourn the loss of courtesy and manners, things that what we have lost elsewhere in this country. We are much too busy and too self-important to make others feel so welcome as they do down south.

Newsflash-southern gentlemen truly do exist. They will walk you down the unfamiliar church corridor to Sunday school and offer you coffee. There is no expectation in the offer that you will pour own coffee, it is poured and prepared for you and handed to you with a flourish. No wonder the women in the south are so feminine-they are constantly being reminded of how precious they are to their men. Ah feminism, you have done us an injustice!

The landscape is lush and beautiful. The magnolia trees are embarrassingly extravagant with their waxy leaves and huge blossoms. They seem to shout, "Betcha' don't have anything this gorgeous at your home Yankee!"

The most beautiful thing of all in Mississippi is that God is alive and well there and referred to often-in public! My nephew graduated from High School and there was, gasp, an opening prayer. The Valedictorian talked about God and His direction for the lives of the students. The choir sang two songs that were focused on God, one was from a Psalm. There was a closing prayer given by a student. It was wonderful and the most wonderful thing was that this is a pubic school. God is an active part of the lives and the community in this town, not an optional add-on as He often is elsewhere. It makes me sad to think that there was a time when the places where we all live now were like this town of Mississippi, not ashamed of God, and able to publicly declare His name and His glory.
When you have a community where God is not put in a box you find that it affects everyone who lives there, Christians and non-Christians alike. Children are more respectful; people are more considerate and polite. Contrary to what the ACLU and others would have you think, God in a community is a very, very, good thing!

My trip to Mississippi was a reminder that it is not acceptable at all for me or for anyone else who follows Christ to sit idly by and allow others to take away our freedom of religion and our freedom to express that religion in pubic. Read the news and you quickly see that tolerance and freedom of expression is being offered more and more to every other religion but the intolerance and prejudice against Christianity continues to gain momentum.

It is time we all asked ourselves what have we voted for on a community and national level? What have we supported and what have we ignored, thinking that someone else would speak for us. God calls us to be intelligent and to be doers and speakers of The Word. Are we allowing ourselves and our faith to be compromised because of our silence?

Father, let me never fear men more than You. Remind me that the only measuring tool I need is Your Word and not the measuring tools of the World. Prompt me when it is my turn to stand up and speak for my faith and my Lord.

"Yet at the same time many even among the leaders believed in Him. But because of the Pharisees they would not confess their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue; for they loved praise from men more than praise from God."
John 12:42-43 (NIV)

Backyard Bullies

2006-04-18T07:59:00.000-07:00

I am so blessed to live in an area with four distinct seasons. Each season brings it's own beauty and excitement. All the signs are here that spring will be arriving soon. As I anticipate the joy of celebrating Resurrection Day, I run around in my back yard like a child on an Easter egg hunt. My search is not for eggs and candy; it is for buds, green shoots, and the signs that God is awakening the sleeping plant life in my yard.

The trees we planted last fall looked a bit droopy and tired, we were concerned for their survival over the winter. What was sparse and wilting is now a profusion of little buds on the branches, an announcement that they wintered well. The ground cover roses are reaching through the layer of protective hay we laid over them for the winter and promising that they will be as pink, bright, and beautiful as they were last summer.

Despite the excitement of the new life to come, I notice that not all is perfect in my land of awakening beauty. It appears that a nefarious creature, not content with the special wild animal mix, unprocessed peanuts and occasional bits of chopped fruit I offer at the Critter Café, has taken to digging up our yard. All the time and love I lavished on the little plot around the backyard fountain was for naught. This varmint, with no respect for a novice gardener's Herculean efforts to create beauty, has dug up everything I planted and left gaping holes to mock me.

There has not always been this tension between us and the furry creatures that visit our backyard. For the year and a half we have lived in our new home, I have fed and developed a friendship with the little gray squirrels. These gray-coated little gentlemen are polite and dear. They stay on the fence or in the feeding area we have created for them, never destroying any of my horticultural handiwork.

We have an unspoken agreement of trust and they will sit close to me on the fence as I replenish their food, chiding me gently as they see our felines gazing longingly at them through the French doors.

Sadly, our idyllic relationship has been tainted by the arrival of the town squirrels. These portly reddish brown fellows have pushed their way into our little haven with the air of a group of unruly thugs. They are not content to wait for service at the Critter Café and insist on helping themselves to anything they fancy in my yard, which includes a number of plants I placed there. My garden has not been the same since these chubby charlatans arrived.

When I think about the drama unfolding in my back yard, it reminds me that life plays itself out the same way. We cultivate relationships, careers and talents. We work hard to grow a good life and then wait for the full bloom of our efforts to burst forth. The buds are there, we can smell spring in the air and we are sure that very soon we will be reaping the rewards of all our hard effort. Alas, before the blossoms are in sight, something happens or someone intervenes and attempts to destroy all the beauty we have been painstakingly developing.

How we react to the attacks from such marauders is a reflection of our walk with the Lord. We can throw away our trowel and vow never again to garden. We can throw a fit, stomp on the destruction under our feet and make it worse or, we can consult the Master Gardener who will help us restore to beauty everything that the enemy has tried to obliterate.We have a God that is more than capable of dealing with those who would try to destroy the gardens in our lives. Our God can take the gaping holes and fill them with reviving soil. He can grow something fresh and lovely in a place that was dark and empty.

Satan is no more than a backyard bully, with bushy tail waiving and sharp little teeth gnashing, attempting to make us think he is more powerful and more threatening than he really is. He can dig a few holes in our lives, but if we use the soil of renewal and the water of life we can plant something new and often even more wonderful. Whether I am repairing the garden of my home or my heart, I will remember that there is no hole to dark and deep that God cannot fill with beauty.

Father, thank you for speaking to me through the beauty of the world you have created. I am excited to begin anew, to replant and anticipate what You will do in this time of restoration.

Jesus answered and said to them, “Indeed, Elijah is coming first and will restore all things.
Matthew 17:11 (NKJ)

An Unsettling Day

2006-02-21T14:40:00.000-08:00

I have been restless all day. There is nothing specific going on. I am not bored – as a matter of fact there is so much to do I am having difficulty prioritizing. It is as if the effect of my clogged sinus cavities has moved into my head making it fuzzy and unfocused.

I need to find a market for a particular piece of writing I have finished. I begin to research and the voice of discouragement whispers, "This thing HAS no market." I move on to write some thoughts for a devotional I will be giving. The creative juices are refusing to flow, in fact, my creative processes have turned into a dust bowl. Sure, I could work on the taxes, if I wanted to send myself spiraling down into a massive depression. You get the drift and I'm sure you've had the same kind of day.

I tackle some projects, even though I am not feeling inspired. Lunch with my husband is a nice but all too short diversion. It's time to get back to the business of the day. Ah, finally the clock inches toward my manicure appointment. I gather up the library materials I want to return and head out the door. Both our cars are kept in the garage; both always have the keys in them. That is until today. I exit the car; shed my winter boots at the side door. enter the house and retrieve the keys. Once I have slipped back into my winter footwear, I make my way out of the garage and head toward my appointment.

When I arrive, I find a little yellow sticky note fluttering in the chilly February breeze and clinging to the salon door for all it is worth. A terse 3-word message is penciled on it, "back at 1:00pm." What? How can this be? I have a 12:30 p.m. appointment and no one is around. A quick cell phone call reveals that my stylist had my appointment noted for noon. She informs me that when I didn't show up she "took off." I am not pleased but what can I do? We reschedule for later in the week and I point my car toward the library.

They must be giving books away, the parking lot is packed, and I feel a sense of accomplishment when I finally find a spot. Reaching toward the empty passenger side to grab my materials, I am chagrined to discover that the materials are not in the car – I have obviously left them at home. Oh joy, I have to go back home and get the library materials. My mood is getting a bit prickly. I am not pleased. My irritation is building up a head of steam. The posted 25mph speed limit is not helping to lighten my mood.

Arriving at home, I decide I will not take the time to pull into the garage and will just run into the house –well, as quick as you can run when you have to shed winter shoes first. The materials are located, my shoes are once again on my feet, and I make my way toward the car, mumbling under my breath. "This has been a wasted day!" I turn on the radio (J. Vernon McGee is expounding on something that I would normally want to hear but at the moment, I am simply not in the mood!). I fasten my seat belt, check the rear view mirror, and then glance quickly to my left and I am stunned.

At the end of the street, two houses away, a pair of lovely fawns are snacking on the evergreens in my neighbor's front lawn. It takes my mind a second to adjust to what I am seeing. One fawn lifts her head and looks at me as if to say, "Lady, are you going to start any trouble?" I am mesmerized and enchanted. I want so much to run into the house for my camera but the desire to keep the deer there as long as possible overrides my need for a photograph.

Suddenly I am awash in joy. How wonderful is God to allow me to live in a place like this where I can see deer in the front or back yard? What a gift to be surrounded by mountains and forests and to be able to go 5 minutes from the house to put our kayaks in the water. What wonders God has brought into my life with the incredible family I have, my terrific husband, the fellowship of believers, the gift of working for Him. I felt every muscle in my body begin to relax.

As if realizing that their work was done, both deer lifted their heads and turned toward the thick woodland that edges our cul de sac. As I watched the flash of the last white tail disappear into the trees it made me think about how mercurial our emotions are. I went from grump to grateful child of God in milliseconds. How merciful He is to take a moment to remind a grumpy unsettled woman how richly blessed she is!

Thank you Lord for pulling me out of cranky self-absorption and for blessing me with another wonder of Your world. I want to always be mindful of who You are and how greatly You work in my life.

Whatever is good and perfect comes to us from God above, who created all heaven's lights. Unlike them, he never changes or casts shifting shadows. James 1:17 (NLT)

New Blog Site

2006-02-17T12:29:00.000-08:00

As some of you may have noticed if you entered my blog via the HER-oes website, I've moved! There were more frequent access issues with my old site so I finally took the time to find a new "home" for my musings.

Not all of my "pears of wisdom" were transferred to this new site but rest assured I'll be adding more soon.

I hope you are all keeping warm and cozy. We've had a sudden drop in temperature and are experiencing weather that is running 13 below with the wind chill. Everyone in my house has elected to stay in by the fire!
Anita

More on the Messy Blessing

2006-02-17T12:20:00.000-08:00

Our adopted robin whose nest graces the curve of the gutter spout by the dining room window is gone. I cannot believe how much I miss her and how sad I was the first morning I discovered she and her little ones had left.

Each morning I would take my coffee cup into the dining room and open the blinds to check on “Momma’s” progress. There was an inordinate amount of time of nest sitting but then finally we could see eggs in the nest. Almost overnight it seemed as though the eggs had turned into 4 little eternally hungry birds.

Momma worked day and night to feed her brood. She would race down to the lawn after the evening sprinkling session and gather up as many worms as possible. When we worked in the back yard, she would always be on the alert, flying to the fence, drawing attention away from her family. Her vigorous scoldings left no doubt that though she might be little, she was fiercely protective.

And so the days passed, Mamma constantly working, watching and defending and I their self appointed guardian keeping a close eye on our adopted avian family.

And then one day I saw the "not so little ones" on the ground near the fence, furiously flapping their wings with Mamma on the fence above, chirping encouragement. I wanted to stay and help. My husband told me to let nature take it’s course and that intervening would do more harm than good. An appointment called me away and when I returned home there were no little birds, no Mamma, only an empty nest. I was bereft and amazed that I was feeling such a loss. “What’s this about I wondered as tears filled my eyes and a heavy sadness settled on my heart.” I didn’t understand and finally prayed a quick prayer; “Father, this seems like such an extreme reaction. What is going on in my heart? Why am I so sad? Please reveal to me what the true source of this pain is so I can deal with it.”

God in His grace and mercy answered immediately and placed the knowledge in my heart. I so identified with that little robin because she reminded me of my own mother. A woman, who raised three children alone, worked two jobs for many years and always put us first. A woman with incredible strength, wisdom and love who sacrificed much to provide for us. An amazing woman who could laugh as hard as she worked. As I gazed at that empty nest, I mourned her sudden passing 9 months ago, I mourned for our loss and for the many dreams she must have had that went unfulfilled while she encouraged us to realize ours. Recognizing that my little robin “Momma’s” leaving had opened that wound in my heart I was reminded again how much I miss my mother. And so I cried some more but these tears were cleansing tears, tears of release and tears of thankfulness to God that He had provided my brother and sister and I with such a “Momma”. Thanks Mom for all your sacrifice and care and thank You Lord for calling her Your own. What comfort to know that she is no longer bound to an earthly nest but is now flying on angel’s wings.

Dear Jesus, thank you for tears that cleanse and a heart that remembers. Thank You for your comforting words and your grace and for beautiful things from Your creation that remind us of Your blessings.

"The LORD is close to the brokenhearted;
He rescues those who are crushed in spirit."
Psalm 34:18 (NLT)

A Mess or a Blessing?

2006-02-17T12:01:00.000-08:00

“Open your mouth and taste,
open your eyes and see--how good GOD is.
Blessed are you who run to him.”
Psalm 34:8 (The Message)

My summer women’s Bible study group is doing John Eldredge’s book Waking The Dead. The recurring theme of the book is seeing with the eyes of your heart, being aware of the battle the enemy wages all around you and learning to live in the full power and glory of a Christ follower. I have been uncovering nuggets of truth and revelation all summer and have felt a bit pleased with myself that I am really “getting” the message of this book. Ah smugness, what a fleeting thing! After returning home a few weeks ago from a 10-day trip to Southern California to visit family, I was anxious to be home in our little slice of heaven in the Northwest. I was chomping at the bit to get home, give the “fab four” (our feline family members) a big hug and then don my stunning gardening ensemble and tend to the front and back yard.

Arriving home I did just that, working through the mental list of tasks, watering flowers, refilling bird and squirrel feeders and pulling an errant weed or two. I finished with a great sense of accomplishment, until I rounded the side of the house where I noticed a bunch of “junk" in the splash pad under the downspout by our dining room window. What a mess!

Tangled dried grass, red pods from a tree behind our back fence and other items I could not immediately identify, all soggy from the previous day’s shower. Yuck! I quickly got to work, cleaning up that unsightly pile that was a blot on my beautiful landscape! I dumped the soggy mess in the trash thinking, “Good riddance to that rubbish!”

Later that day as I walked down the driveway, my next-door neighbor greeted me and welcomed me home. He looked up and toward the side of our house, and said, “Looks like you’ve got a nice nest there.” “Huh?” I replied. “Yeah, he said, “my wife and I watched her struggling to build it while you were gone. No need to worry about where she built it, the nest is fine there and won't damage the gutter."

I followed his gaze and sure enough, a little mother robin was ensconced in a tightly woven and lovely nest that rested in the crook of the gutter by our dining room window. That mess I had been so annoyed about was a large part of her nest that hadn’t made it through the final stages of her building project.

What a life lesson for me! Evidently my summer Bible study had not made as much of an impact on my spirit as it should have. Instead of looking up and seeing (and being thankful for) all of God’s glory and enjoying the bird and her nest, I walked with my eyes to the ground, only seeing what was right in front of my nose and making assumptions about what I saw. In a magical instant, the “mess” I had grumbled about had become a beautiful part of God’s creation, something to enjoy and marvel at.

Dear Lord, let every little bird that wings its way past me, remind me of that nest and the glory in Your creation. Allow me to always see with the eyes of my heart the beauty and miracles that surround me every day. Help me to keep my head high, my eyes upward and my life a reflection of the beauty that You allow me to see.”

A Shaky Foundation

2006-02-17T11:45:00.000-08:00

I will preface the comments in this entry in my blog with a disclaimer. It is not my intention to offend any happy city dwellers. I made a solemn vow to my sister-in-law that when we moved I would not become an “L.A. Basher” so understand dear readers, that I may consider the theme song to Green Acres my own, but I understand this is not the case for everyone (and a good thing or we would all be living in the same place!)

I moved from L.A. and left so much of my stress behind. The ramped up city lifestyle was wearing on me. Road rage, traffic jams, smog, crime, graffiti, earthquakes. I had had enough. The city held no joy for me and I was longing to return to a more rural lifestyle. A life that offered the richness of afternoon walks, nearby fishing streams and wildlife in abundance.

Living is this pastoral beauty surrounded by mountains and tall trees, seeing deer graze behind my fence (and we live in town), traveling down the main street to my house with a maximum posted speed limit of 25mph was all good to me. I began to unwind. I began to feel safe. I began to feel rested and revived. I began to walk that slippery slope that said, “I am renewed in this place. I am safe in this place. This place brings me peace.”

All of those feelings became like the powdery dust of shattered glass at about 9:20pm last night. I was relaxing in the living room when I began to hear a quiet roar. The sound was somewhat familiar but I could not place it. Then I began to feel the floor softly rolling and soon I heard the “tinkle, tinkle” of the crystal drops in the dining room chandelier as the slight swaying back and forth caused them to touch. Then the house began to shake. EARTHQUAKE! I was in complete shock as my mind tried to wrap itself around what was happening. I live in the Northwest. There ARE NO EARTHQUAKES! How could this be? I left L.A. to get away from this! By the time those questions ran through my mind, the quake was gone. My fear was not.

My safety barrier had been violated. I was exposed; I was no longer in that place of calm. What was I going to do now??????

For the past few months the Lord has been dealing with my issues of disappointment and hurt through the things others have said and done. I was finally getting it….people really will fail me just as I will fail others. I need to go to GOD, not to others for comfort. This truth was sinking in; I was moving along with the concept and making real progress.

When the enemy couldn’t get in that door anymore, he slipped in through the side and began to work on my issues of trusting a place for peace and comfort instead of God. So God literally shook me out of my fog and reminded me that it isn't only people I should not put my trust and hope in but things and places as well. I can be thankful to Him for bringing me to this beautiful place, I can rejoice in the loveliness and the richness of life here but I cannot ever forget that that it’s not a woodland meadow or a tree in my back yard that is my refuge, it is God and God alone.

How thankful I am for that little shake up I had last night. How wonderful to know that my God is my protector and my strength. What a relief to know that He is my refuge and that my true peace and joy does not depend on my address.

"Lord, since I have been understanding the concept lately of seeing with the eyes of my heart I am beginning to see what a battlefield I live in. I am also rejoicing in the fact that, through You, I hold all the power over the enemy. He has been trying so hard to shake my foundation, hurt my ministry , my life, my heart and push me off this path you have set my feet on so firmly. Thank you for yet another victory over him and thank You for the many more to come. Thank you for your love and protection that never changes and is not dependant on where I live or what I do.”

The LORD is my shepherd;
I have everything I need.
He lets me rest in green meadows;
he leads me beside peaceful streams.
He renews my strength.
He guides me along right paths,
bringing honor to his name.
Psalm 23: 1-3 (NLT)