Magical answer in Esther's whirlwind

Ever wonder why you’re not seeing God’s answer to your prayer?  How does He choose when to reveal His answers?  Recently I sensed the Lord leading me to share the story of Esther at a local shelter.  Not knowing how many would attend or which ages, I wrote a script to touch on all of Esther’s 10 chapters in the Bible.  Performance would run maybe 30 minutes, for ages young and old, adding intermittent piano and simple props for fun along the way.  Sort of a musical storytelling with audience participation.  My friend and I set up shop in the shelter’s little library, happy to receive our first guests who happened to be preschoolers.  The clock hit 3:00, so we began, but soon came middle-schoolers, quickly followed by elementary and possibly high school students.  Suddenly our house was full and active, quite robust, to say the least, and we restarted the story to accommodate the new group.  More of a stand-up storytelling than a sit-down this time.  Our first actors smiled to wear their yellow construction paper crowns, and they made a handsome king and queen, complete with a royal scepter made from a toy Star Wars saber.  Children took turns with plastic play food at our pretend banquets, and as the piano accompanied with light and dark musical tones, they tuned into the good and bad turns of Esther’s story.  Quite remarkable was the attention that some of the older children kept in the midst of it all, listening and thinking to consider the ways of Esther and Mordecai in their own lives and focusing to answer my questions about fasting and bravery in making decisions.  Our time together required all my energy, yet amazingly the Lord held us and carried us forward.  Afterward returning home and unloading the car, I opened the box for the ukulele I’d taken for the story’s celebration of Purim. I saw something that left me stunned.  Inside the box was a little red plastic ball for which I’d prayed about 9 months ago.  The fact that the Lord revealed it now simply caught me unexpected, refreshing me and quenching my thirst in the whirl of the day, encouraging me too to continue following Him through whirlwinds and all.  This red ball plays a key part in a favorite magic trick, and I’d lost it one day in the hospital while providing puppets for children.  Now more fun can be had with the disappearing-ball-in-the-vase trick.  Thank you, Lord.  His timing is perfect because He knows our personalities and emotions and our future too, including when best to bestow His answers to our prayers.  Isaiah 30:18 tells us, “Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion.  For the Lord is a God of justice.  Blessed are all who wait for him!”

Palm leaf cross

I admire this man.  As he stood in our food line across from the bus station, my eyes latched onto something he carried.  “Welcome.  Happy to see you today,” I greeted.  “I’m hoping you’ll tell me something.  I’m curious about what you’re holding.  How do you use them?”  Explaining that he rises early in the morning to climb the palm trees and claim these leaves, he then designs crosses and sells them during the day to earn $40 to pay his rent.  All the while he’s talking, I’m trying to imagine his final product that these slivers of palm leaves become.  “I won’t lie,” he says, “I was locked up.  But I don’t do drugs anymore.  I make these crosses.”  Honestly I wanted to continue talking, but our food line required moving along, so our team gladly bundled his dinner and added a nice bottle of cold water.  But then about 20 minutes later, here he comes.  We’re folding tables and cleaning up, and he wants to give me something.  Suddenly I realize, “This is one of your crosses, isn’t it?”  “Yes,” he replied, “it’s for you, and I’m not asking you to pay.”  So honored I felt that he would share with me, and my heart brimmed full of joy for his discovery of Christ.  What a huge hurdle he had stared down in the course of changing his life.  Reminding me of how God often blesses any single situation in multiple ways, the whole scene was humbling.  Having trekked downtown to serve hot dogs and snow cones to others, in turn I was fed a most nourishing meal of inspiration.  Romans 5:17 tells us, “For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ.”  Thank you, Lord, for making Your righteousness available to us all.

Jesus, my postman

The Lord delivers gifts wrapped with the prettiest bows.  I had mailed a package to Israel a few weeks ago, then last week tried to track its customs number, learning only that the package was still roaming the countryside somewhere.  According to updates, delivery had been attempted more than once.  So I emailed my friend who’s the addressee.  The original plan was for her to receive the package and deliver the contents to our common friend who is a Holocaust Survivor.  But my friend who's the addressee had received no notice in her mailbox to pick up any package.  And the particular wordings on the tracking record seemed rather strange to her.  All I knew was that the package sat in Israel somewhere.  So I prayed.  It’s not that the contents were anything expensive, but more that our Survivor friend who has become our adoptive grandma enjoys coloring books, and I longed for her to not be lonely on her birthday and to receive a gift with a letter saying how much she’s loved by us and by God.  And then soon my inbox showed a new email.  My friend had located the package!  Eventually ending up at a postal substation, she could now happily ensure final delivery to our adoptive grandma on her birthday.  Really the Lord’s delivery of this package was a huge gift to me too, causing my heart to beam and seemingly my feet to float.  Our adoptive grandma is precious to us, and the idea to send this coloring book had been prayed over repeatedly.  Thank you, Lord, for being our postman, giving yet added meaning to Psalm 18:1-2, which says, “I love you, O Lord, my strength.  The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer . . .”   In truth, He is forever delivering both to and from.

Welcoming Russian friends: Добро пожаловать

I wondered, “What will I say?”  Feeling tempted, “Will we connect at all?  What will she think?”  For a few moments nervousness overran, as I second- and third-guessed the whole idea.  Then the door opened, and I knew it was her.  Our common friend set us up, knowing I was learning Russian, saying, “Oh, you should meet her.  I told her you’re going to visit Holocaust Survivors who speak Russian, and she wants to help.”  So this night at the coffee shop was precious for me, for I’d been hoping and praying.  And in that moment she pulled open the door, every haunting temptation fell away.  All worry cast out.  I felt my face run out of room to smile any bigger, and this fresh overwhelming joy set me almost speechless.  Yes, this whole endeavor toward Russian was revealing anew again.  And the Lord had set our table so tenderly, having prepared for us conversation far deeper than the learning of any one language, guiding us through a whole array of talking, listening, laughter, and tears.  She did help me with my Russian and shared firsthand of Russian culture, yet more than anything I simply loved my new friend and was praying for her.  She soon posed the notion of designing a card in Russian to welcome the Holocaust Survivors who would attend our concerts, and upon our arriving Israel in a few weeks, we witnessed such love conveyed in the giving and receiving of those cards.  Thinking back, what if I had withdrawn in fear that night at the coffee shop?  What if we had never met?  How empty I would feel, as I wouldn't have laughed with her in love of our cats, and sadly I wouldn't know the thrill of anticipating a concert with her in a couple of weeks.  Here again I saw the abundant blessing of persevering through the unknown.  Again I saw my need of the strength of the Lord.  In Matthew 26:41, Jesus tells His disciples, “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation.  The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”   And I thank Him for saving me, saving us, daily.

Life unto the oboe

These moments of panic.  Countless times I’ve picked up my oboe, then my reed, just hoping.  Will the reed be ready?  My little Snoopy jelly jar has served well in holding a half-inch of water for soaking a reed, but after years of playing, these times of panic still exist.  Often switching from piano, I lift the reed from the water, asking “Lord, may You sing through this instrument.”  Testing the reed softly, there’s no sound.  It’s too tight, disallowing good vibration, causing my heart to race.  But I rely on His answer to an earlier prayer about whether to play this day at all.  I risk the human uncertainties, remembering vividly the thrill of Him having sung through this instrument before.  So I gather air to breathe into the horn.  And yes, yes, yes, there He is!  The Lord has sung the first notes!  To know His rescue, I am relieved.  To experience the Holy Spirit filling and flourishing, I am in awe.  Again He has brought death to life in a new and very personal way for me.  Proverbs 8:35 tells us, “For whoever finds me finds life and receives favor from the Lord.”  I treasure His presence.

Hope in the PT office

Hope is huge.  To the person without it, there’s an empty feeling.  To the person with it, there’s a sparkle in their eyes.  I relived hope recently as I talked with a physical therapist.  Explaining to him how I guarded my lower back for years, I guessed that a doctor would tell me I needed an MRI, which would lead to surgery.  Rather than submit to the unknowns of going under the knife, I chose to endure the pain I already knew.  Then my friend went to physical therapy, and I saw her health improve and her pain lessen dramatically.  She told me, “This PT office offers a free assessment, and I keep thinking of you when I’m there.  Why not go?”  So I went.  And the therapist told me I didn’t have a herniated disc.  He smiled, “I think in a couple of weeks we can have you feeling a lot better.”  And at first I was stunned.  Yet as reality set in, I felt hope disperse through my body, lending me almost tearful, sort of joyfully bewildered to imagine life with freedom of movement.  No more shifting my feet to keep standing.  No more bracing to a chair.  No more expectation of pain when I tried to lean forward.  I had hope now, and it lifted my whole outlook.  All the more does our hope in Christ lift us out of all sorts of weariness.  A heart rescued by Christ can experience a whole realm of living that flourishes.  Isaiah 40:30-31 tells us, “ . . . those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”  Will you invite Jesus to bring hope to you today?  Will you offer the same to someone else?

Constructing the goal

Do you have a fun holiday memory?  Our trip to the Dallas area last month still makes me smile, yet maybe in an unsuspecting way.  We drove to visit family and offered to help assemble their new basketball goal.  Outside temperature was in the 30s, so we opted for opening the big box in the garage.  My brother led the charge, my husband collaborated on tools and problem-solving, and my nephews and I at different times stood near to await our assignments.  Actually the “stood near” part is a loose term because some certain nephews who remain nameless here seemed to have a knack for disappearing from the work site.  Nevertheless, this was the only time I could remember us building something together, so I was excited.  Soon I’m chuckling at how motley a crew we are.  Emanating from one side of the garage, distinct sighs of boredom set in.  From another direction, a complaint:  “It’s cold!”  With my brother staying studious to the manufacturer’s instruction sheet, my husband asked, “Hey, do you have a rat-tail file?,” to which one nephew answered, “I have no idea what these tools are!”  I then hear a reprimand to another nephew for playing on his phone.  An adult chimes in, “Uh-oh, we skipped a step.”  Another, “How far back do we need to go?”  And really I’m still chuckling today because the task blew everybody’s cover.  Beyond any dressed-up, cleaned-up holiday presentation and without the hype of any fancy vacation, this rather mundane task of assembling a basketball goal had opened a door that I loved.  To work alongside, to find common purpose, to realize in the end that you actually don’t want to quit, even lamenting “Oh, man, we’re just now getting the hang of this!” is a true blessing.  To have discovered each other’s mechanical talents (or lack thereof), to have trudged together through one of those beleaguered trips to the hardware store to buy an additional ¼-inch tool, and to have laughed at ourselves for the honesty that’s inevitable in daily chores is actually precious insight.  Psalm 84:10 reminds us, “Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.”  It was a Christmastime gift I wouldn’t trade.  Thank you, Lord, for opening our eyes when You bestow blessings.  And thanks to my sister-in-law for hot chocolate, knit caps, and warm gloves that day.

A different optometry

I love surprises like this.  No ordinary appointment today.  Having become suspicious of some blurry vision, I visited the optometrist.  Asking him how he’d been doing, I learned about his dad’s health, which prompted a story of his dad’s life that included the Korean War.  What an inspiration to hear of this man’s care of people and love of life, though now very weak and ill of health.  The optometrist offered an earnest request for prayer, to which I was honored to respond.  So there in the office, we prayed together.  We prayed aloud.  We encountered some tearful moments that don’t enter every optometric visit.  The Lord bestowed a tender vulnerability with purpose above and beyond any physical ailment of my eyes.  The larger need involved more of a spiritual optometry, you might say.  First Peter 3:15 tells us, “. . . Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have . . .”  This day I was called to answer in prayer, sharing encouragement and our hope that is Christ.  For you, I ask the Lord to let you experience the joy of His surprises.  May He give new awareness of His purposes for your life.

Prodigal puppets

Lost keys.  Lost phone.  Lost anything.  How do you rejoice when the lost is found?  Last month my study group visited some precious children.  We arrived with scissors, glue, yarn, buttons, socks, and plenty of plastic wiggly eyes, all for constructing puppets for these sweet ones with disabilities.  Accessible for both ambulatory and wheelchair-bound, our craft area donned huge smiles to welcome these preschoolers.  I brought my cardboard theater and some extra puppets in case anyone wanted to play puppeteer while today’s glue still dried, and indeed glee displayed when these young ones danced their puppets at the cardboard window.  A wonderfully joyful day all-around.  Later returning home, I realized 4 of my finger puppets were missing:  a rabbit, a frog, a lion, and an elephant.  No sign of them in my cart, nor in my bag.  If somehow they remained on the table at the children’s center, I asked the Lord to use them to entertain again and again.  In case they were lost somewhere else, I asked Him to reveal them to me.  As weeks passed, I almost forgot about them, until last Wednesday when I lifted a pair of black pants off the clothes hanger.  There in the right-hand pocket were a rabbit, a frog, and an elephant.  Stepping back into the closet, I found the lion on the floor.  And, oh, how my heart quickened to remember my prayer.  Certainly on the surface nothing seemed too significant about 4 miniature puppets made of ordinary fabric.  Yet the Lord used the ordinary to remind me how extraordinarily He hears and listens to the voices of His children.  How personal and detailed He is with us.  So I want to celebrate with Him first, before sharing with any family or friend.  And to celebrate as He does, I need His compassion.  Luke 15 explains that compassion leads the Lord to celebrate in abundance.  With a feast and a robe, He welcomes and rejoices for the lost being found, the dead coming alive.  So I ask Him to impart to us His compassion, as my newly found puppets remind me.  May we receive and carry forward in joy. 

Russian radio thrill

I almost didn’t recognize the moment.  Over the radio in the car, I heard “How Great Is Our God,” though I’d heard it lots of times before.  Passion’s world edition melts my heart every time, yet I’ve never really tried to understand any of the languages other than English and Spanish, just assuming they were out of my reach.  Then suddenly I caught a vague recognition of two words.  “Did he say ‘Наш Бог’?”  Such a thrill to even hope that my study of Russian was translating into real life.  Arriving home, I pulled up YouTube, and yes, the singer says “Наш Бог так велик,” which means ‘How great is our God.'  Well, this is huge news for me.  This is so big that my heart can hardly handle the blessing.  When any of us follows the Lord into something, our eyes are open wide for His leading.  We watch closely for Him to cue our next step.  I knew the Lord wouldn’t leave me stranded, but I also didn’t know how the details of learning Russian would live out.  So these moments found my heart leaping into praise of how He was so sweetly encouraging me to keep studying.  Certainly He has guided me all along.  Certainly He tuned my ears to the lyrics today when ordinarily they would’ve tuned out.  Psalm 147:6 tells us, “The Lord sustains the humble . . .”  And I am overjoyed and thankful and trusting of Him all the more to sustain me along His path.  May you too be blessed in seeing Him at work in your life.