Beaded & buttoned for life

Before I left the house last Wednesday, I was reminded to take a towel to cushion my knees.  I scanned the bedroom shelf for my little orange Gideons Bible and tucked it in my red bag, for it seemed my instruction was to kneel and to read Scripture.  Already in the bag was my usual tube of sunscreen, and I dug around to double-check for a pen, my ID, and my phone.  And now I headed to the car.  My bag sat on the passenger seat for the next 30 minutes, and each time I glanced at it, I smiled to think of my daughter who handed it down to me.  This cloth bag is covered with fun black and white beads and buttons sewn in alternating patterns, and its whole combination of threads and stitched mirrored pieces is just plain sweet.  Wearing this bag today brought a welcomed whimsicality to an occasion that can be quite heavy and serious and literally life-threatening for many, and I welcomed the Lord encouraging me with simple pleasures toward staying the course.  In Romans 14:11, I read that one day every knee in all creation will bow before the Lord, and so there must be worthwhile reason for our kneeling.  This Wednesday, I trusted the Lord had specific reason.  This particular abortion center is surrounded by much activity, including the busyness of cars and buses and interestingly a pediatric clinic, and so I am watchful in the midst of prayer.  While walking, I read from my Bible, finding strength in seeing and hearing the Psalms.  My folded towel proves to be a wonderful cushion for my knees, though eventually I stand to walk again.  Upon kneeling a second time, I notice another lady kneeling to pray.  Later still, I see a third lady kneeling, and I am humbled to realize the Lord’s instruction to me was not for only me.  My role as a kneeling pray-er was playing a small part in a larger chord of pray-ers.  The size of the blessing felt huge yet humbling at the same time.  I pondered for a while that crucial point where obedience serves as a crossroads of blessing beyond ourselves, where its effect ripples outward many times over.  The blessings had been multiplied for me, and I was not even the main focus of the prayer.  The primary intent was to pray for the many who are connected with the abortion center, yet how gracious was the Lord in the way He led me to the sidewalk.  He encouraged me at home in reminding me about the towel and my little Gideons Bible and in showing me the beaded and buttoned bag that makes me smile.

Along a Certain Road

Think for a minute:  Who is your favorite person to call?  Who do you celebrate with?  Who listens when you cry deep?  This week I studied the word call in Greek, particularly the verb used in John 10:3, which says, “. . . He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.”  My dictionary offered a new tinge on the word PHONEO, which is the verb in this particular verse, saying that it implies a pleasure in the calling of each individual name.  It’s not a dutiful calling in anger like “Go clean your room!”  Neither is it a calling to reprimand for having done harm.  Here it is the sounding of a call that’s spoken with delight.  Sometimes I try to imagine hearing the Lord utter my name, and then I realize I have heard Him speak it already.  He has garnered my attention and conveyed different messages for different tasks, yet I don’t remember His pronunciation of the English spelling of L-i-n-d-a.  He understands my English when I pray, yet certainly at His disposal are ways for calling me outside the English language.  The point here is that He takes pleasure in calling us, and however it is that He pronounces our names, we can hear and choose to listen with pleasure as well.  In work, and in rest, and in intrigue and wonder, I worship Him in my decision to follow.  Today I share with you a video I created upon the Lord’s prompting.  I hope it testifies to the blessings of wanting to make my desires secondary to His.  He calls us to travel along His certain road, and I pray you know first-hand the blessings of letting Him lead.  Click Along a Certain Road or search it on YouTube.

Raised, furled, & awkwardly employed

That look of bewilderment.  I’ve been on the receiving end of it lately.  I’ve witnessed the occasional furled upper lip and definitely the awkward pause inserted into conversation.  My lack of a full-time job has seemed to be culprit for causing these puzzled reactions.  Maybe more accurately the problem has been my lack of automatic desire for full-time work.  Recently I discussed with someone about different types of work.  Unintentionally my half of our conversation centered on volunteering, and by the time we finally talked about my new employment at the community college, I heard her words spoken almost in exasperation, “Do they pay you for that?”  I noticed the tilt of her head and the near-snarl of her lip and wondered if she really meant, “Surely you bring in some kind of income, don’t you?”  On another occasion with a different person, I caught the ogling eye that politely insinuated, “How can you be satisfied with volunteering and unpaid roles?”  Maybe in this case she more pointedly meant, “Why would you want to be satisfied with unpaid roles?”  When I began teaching piano at home, I asked the Lord if I should charge a lesson fee, and if so, how much.  Such joy comes in the teaching of music, yet fees can run $25 for a 30-minute slot easily, and consequently lessons for many become an impossibility.  When I told a friend I charged $15 per lesson, she responded, “Why?  You know you can charge more, don’t you?”  All I know is that I prayed and felt inclined toward $15.  I do realize I fit neither the career mold nor the stay-at-home mold.  Honestly I want only the follow-the-Lord mold, and that’s one that has many different appearances.  All across the years of my variety of jobs, whether full-time pay, part-time pay, or no pay at all, the Lord has provided abundantly for my family the necessities of living.  Yet my friends’ recent facial expressions have reminded me that we’re strangers in this world (1 Peter 2:11).  Occasionally we’re strangers among our fellow Christians, though we love them all the same.  And actually, when we pause and rethink why we do what we do, it can be a good thing—raised eyebrows and all.

Silenced at an Italian eatery

I love hidden treasures.  A couple of weeks ago, I loved finding this quaint little Italian restaurant here in San Antonio.  It’s a place now high on our list of favorites, due in part to its beef lasagna and scrumptious chicken parmigiana.  The initial draw for us was the dinner theater they host there once a month.  Once we arrived and realized their family-style placement of tables in long rows, we very much enjoyed sharing the company of our assigned table-mates for the evening.  Our immediate group bridged an age span of probably 40 years, and quite remarkably we loved the conversation.  All kinds of discussions of jobs, schools, family, and hobbies, yet interestingly there was one particular point that caused our table to fall silent.  One of the men asked me how I came to work in theater, and I answered, “God called me there.” And suddenly everything halted.  No more words spoken, no more smiles, no more laughter.   I don’t know why exactly, but our section of the table sat motionless at that point.  I’ve wondered about it since then and have thought of several possible reasons, though I’ll never know for certain.  I imagine I could’ve answered the man's question by saying my husband suggested theater to me or that my friend called me about a theater job opening, and maybe the reaction of the table wouldn’t have brought silence.  But somehow the 3 words God called me threw a hiccup into the conversation.  Yet the idea of the Lord speaking to us is a very real thing.  I read again this morning in John 10 about Jesus our Shepherd calling to us.  We are His sheep, and our relationship with Him through listening and speaking certainly runs two-way.  In the days following that Friday night, I continued to pray for the Lord to bless our table companions.  For whatever reason the silence came, may He stir their curiosity, may He give them understanding, and may they know the depths of His love.