Mending Fence

I always liked Frost’s “Mending Wall.”  Every year my eighth-graders conjured a rather robust discussion of walls and fences.  Quite surprising, some might say, yet these students aptly posed and pondered a smart sampling of good and bad reasons that people have barriers.  Last Saturday the poem resurfaced as my husband and I rebuilt a gate.  The old, rotten slats had lost most of their strength, falling victim to a frustrated meter reader who pulled off the metal handle, leaving rusted nails exposed among teetering wood.  We unhinged it all and started from scratch.  Measuring, sawing, nailing, we hung the new wood but with unexpected pause.  I peered through partial slats with a pleasure I hadn’t known before.  A host of thoughts converged.  “May we put larger gaps between the slats?” I asked my husband.  A new sight of pastoral green captured me for a moment, as the old gate’s slats had been flush, without gaps, and you couldn’t see through.  This new view offered a stillness, a serenity.  And I remembered my eighth-graders discussing.  “Before I built a wall I’d ask to know what I was walling in or walling out,” Frost said.  And did we have any real requirement now to “wall in” the grass?  No neighboring livestock to separate from.  No real need.  Instead of closing doors, in this case a gate, to keep people out, the Bible tells us to go into the world.  Jesus says in Mark 16:15, “Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation.”  I didn’t want to shut people out.  This peaceful new green could remind us all of life and hope.  In John 10:9 Jesus says, “I am the gate, whoever enters through me will be saved.  He will come in and go out, and find pasture.”  And so my husband agreed to widen the gate’s gaps.  Now I walk to that side of the house more often because of the pleasure it brings.  I never knew replacing a gate would deliver such delight.  Lord, let our doors and gates swing open.  Let the world see the peace You bring.

Flecks in the paint

Be patient.  Don’t touch.  If a little fleck flies into the paint, just leave it alone.  Later when the cabinet door is all dry, the fleck lifts out in a snap.  We’re using oil-based paint for our kitchen cabinets.  Too many times already, I’ve tried to fix a spot and felt that dreaded drag of the brush.  But today we had warm weather, and I lined up 7 new doors.  A new batch.  A new outlook.  My mission:  Don’t try to touch up.  Let the imperfections sit.  It’s much easier to touch up after the main coat dries.  It’s kind of like life.  Every fleck of discomfort we want to fix.  Every unknown we want to figure out right then.  But sometimes it’s good to wait.  See what God has in store.  Ask Him to give wisdom and show what to do.  Isaiah 30:18 says, “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!”  May we remember He can have good reason for those flecks to sit a while.  He might incorporate those flecks into a new and beautiful blessing.

Spanish table for 8

I felt deeply out of sync.  “Lord, I need Spanish.  Give me Spanish, I pray.”  Our friend asked me a question, and my brain conjured almost nothing for an answer.  As often happens, my Spanish starts but runs out, leaving me to finish in English and hope somehow the ideas connect.  To listen at first is always good.  To hear conversation of others helps me acclimate.  Yet as we ate dinner, the desire to speak gradually grew, and my words sat on edge.  Briefly I wondered, would it be entirely frustrating to tell this story and not have the words to finish the best part?  Our table of 8 discussed Puerto Rico and a grave problem there, and suddenly my attempt at Spanish spilled out.  “En Estados Unidos tenemos una gran problema.”  I mentioned America’s situation of abortion.  We have these buildings appearing innocuous on the outside, their doors and windows looking harmless from the street.  Yet horror abounds for what happens inside.  I shared testimony of the Lord bringing beauty to so gruesome a setting.  I remember an ice cream vendor who seemed to stop and pray repeatedly in front of the abortion center.  There was the man who walked from down the street to point his wooden recorder toward the sky to play a melody to the Lord, to praise Him for loving us beyond our self-destructive ways.  Little did I know that while I spoke, the Lord was touching our friends who listenened.  Soon I heard one of the men say he would like us to pray.  Before we left our friends’ house that night, we stood to ask the Lord to save these babies, to save the families from years of pain and regret, to extend His mercy to the abortion workers and let them experience His love, that He would conquer any fear and reassure them all that He himself is life and He sustains life.  The next day with church we sang “All my delight is in you, Lord,” immediately reverting me to our days of singing the same in Spanish, translating “Mi deleite está en ti.”  The word deleite has always grabbed my attention, and my heart started to melt.  My knees hit the floor under the weight of His love.  The Lord had led me through a most intimate experience, a deeply moving set of moments where I saw Him supply for my need, really abundantly beyond my need, once again.  He sat at our table, and I welcomed Him.

Heirloom Project

“Lord, why am I in a quilting group?  What’s my purpose?”  As much as I loved my new friends and as much as I now looked forward to Mondays, I still wondered what God had in store.  Then came this email.  My friend from Israel who ministers to Holocaust survivors sent a link to her Heirloom Project.  Anyone who makes handcrafts may donate their wares to a survivor, in turn providing a new heirloom the survivor can pass to their coming generations in replacement of what was lost in the Holocaust.  What was at the top of the Heirloom Project’s list of possible handcrafts?  Quilting.  So I wondered, “Lord, do you want me to make a quilt to send to Israel?”  Less than a week later, I’m at a friend’s house.  She’s a seamstress, so I share with her my adventure into quilting.  Suddenly her eyes light up, and she tells me to follow her to the attic.  She opens a box filled with quilting squares just waiting to be finished.  All these smaller squares were sewn by her mom’s friends who have now passed away, yet their handiwork lives on.  They need only to be incorporated into the larger size of the finished quilt.  The whole set of circumstances boggles my mind.  First the invitation to join the quilting group, which seemed such a foreign idea in the beginning.  Then the email from Israel.  Then the quilting squares in the attic.  To think how the Lord lined everything up so perfectly.  And no longer am I just hanging out with friends while they quilt.  No longer am I just the ironing girl who neatens everyone’s sewing seams.  I've now graduated to sitting at a machine to sew.  Our last meeting was my trial run.  With constant coaching and laughter mixed in, some somewhat straight stitching actually fastened 2 pieces of fabric!  We laughed away my initial apprehension when I stitched the wrong pieces together!  From hardly ever threading a needle to now having fun at the machine, the Lord has begun a work that I want to finish.  Experiencing His intricate planning leaves me in awe once again.

Mountain range in the living room

Our washing machine quit washing.  The agitator quit agitating, though for 14 years it served us well.  We bought a new machine, and the fix should be simple, right?  But we rarely looked behind the old washer.  If we had, we would’ve seen the corroded water valves at the wall.  All right, point taken, we’ll just buy some new valves.  But wait a minute.  A closer look shows the old valves were soldered.  Soldered?  What?!  Soldering didn’t fit in our definition of simple.  Nevertheless, don’t fret.  Just check YouTube’s supply of fix-it demos, and usually that works.  And thereby we stepped out on our yellow brick road of plumbing repair.  We visited the plumbing aisle at Lowe’s and met a girl who was helpful.  Next trip, we met a guy who offered a slightly different idea on how to install in such a small space.  Lowe’s was out of one part, so we drove by Home Depot to talk to a third person who explained about using compression connectors.  The task at the house fared pretty well actually, except for some tiny leaks that bubbled at the connectors.  We finally opted to shut off the water and try again tomorrow.  By the time I entered the stores the next day, no one had those parts in stock.  Still looking to solve the situation, we wondered if one more turn of the wrench would make those bubbles disappear.  But as the wrench tightened, the copper tube broke and water gushed with full force.  Spewing straight up and arching straight down, that force of water flooded the room.  As fast as I grabbed towels, and as fast as my husband ran to turn off the water main and bring in the wet vac, the water won the battle.  It seeped underneath the wall and into the next room.  And no one enjoys a sloshy carpet, especially at 1 AM.  Seriously, as we assessed our situation, we were thankful the cats didn’t run away when we scrambled to lift the garage door.  Nevertheless we had a big mess, and all I knew was to ask the Lord what to do next.  We moaned to move furniture.  We groaned to lift the wet carpet.  But we lifted as best we could and propped the carpet on sawhorses to blow air underneath to dry.  In the morning, I just stared.  I took a deep breath and reluctantly touched the carpet, only to find water still seeping toward the piano.  The fans underneath had helped, but I needed a better way to separate the carpet pad.  At that point, my brain overwhelmed.  Emotional numbness set in, but I still had the awareness to seek the Lord.  Soon I found myself sitting to play the piano instead of trying to move it.  “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus” came to mind, and I sang a heartfelt rendition that freed my ability to think.  What had weakened in me now began to restore.  Psalm 46:1 says, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.”  Soon the notion came to cut away the carpet pad and take it outside to dry separately.  That heavy carpet rolled back to a point I hadn’t reached before, and I pressed it with my knee in order to sop the innermost spots of water.  I lifted that bulky old carpet to an extent I could lay it up over the sawhorses I had repositioned.  I look back now and contemplate how amazingly the Lord made that happen.  Later some stronger connectors from a plumbing supply store solved our mechanical woes, but it was the Lord rescuing my mental state that saved the day.  He was my refuge, strength and help, just as the Psalm says.  Today I stand so thankful for having experienced the Lord’s rescue.  And humorously, the sawhorses holding the carpet provided our cats their own personal mountain range in the living room, which they quite fondly sat atop all the rest of last week. 

Donate & Dump

What’s the big deal about a bunch of rocks?  Seems crazy for me to wake up thinking about them, but actually the idea isn’t totally random.  Let me explain.  Last Saturday, our section of San Antonio was hosting Donate & Dump, which encourages residents to clean up and clean out.  The neighborhood brings in a donation truck for reusables and a trash truck for dumping everything else.  My husband and I loaded our give-aways into the car before we went to sleep Friday night, and I asked, “Lord, is there anything we should load tomorrow for dumping?”  At 4:30 AM, I awoke to the thought of rocks.  But what rocks?  And what would I do with these rocks?  I was too groggy to think.  When the clock glared 5:00, I was frustrated to still be awake, yet I began praying about many things and reciting my Romans 5 that I’ve been memorizing.  All the while, the idea of rocks kept recurring.  Next thing I know the clock shines 8:30, and my brain has progressed toward the specific thought of loading rocks from the backyard.  Suddenly I’m excited.  This is now making sense.  I throw off the bed blanket and walk into the living room to tell my husband.  For years, we’ve had piles of rocks in our backyard.  Trees have died, we’ve had to dig, the earth’s been rocky, and our regular trash pick-up doesn’t accept rocks.  The regular trash service says we need to drive our rocks across town to a landfill, and I’ve never arranged to drive that distance.  Consequently our yard has been decorated with piles of rocks that gradually blended into the scenery so much that I’d forgotten about them.  We just step around a pile here and a pile there as if they’re no longer eyesores.  So my husband and I happily loaded our rocks and drove over to Donate & Dump.  Everybody lent a hand to unload, and like shedding the thickest layer of any grime, what a relief came upon us!  We returned home to stand in the backyard and enjoy a gaze at clean land.  I’d forgotten what clean looked like.  The green seemed more crisp.  The brown appeared more fertile and fresh.  No clutter.  No blots on the landscape.  In fact, the air I breathed felt more free.  I wondered how we ever let those rock piles blend in.  Being without them now let me realize the hazards that build through carelessness.  The Bible talks about purity in Psalm 24:3-4, saying, “Who may ascend the hill of the Lord?  Who may stand in his holy place?  He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to an idol or swear by what is false.”  No heaviness of pressure or any hurdle of misplaced priority.  Just welcomed simplicity of living with the Lord.  So I encourage you to avoid clutter.  Avoid the piles of junk that interfere.  I thank God for waking me at 4:30.

Splash into quilting

A fish out of water?  Why do people say that?  It’s when they’re out of their comfort zone and gasping for air.  Yet as a child of God, that figurative fish not only finds its next breath but actually flourishes.  My latest fish bowl is a quilting group.  I don’t breathe easily around sewing, and so I hesitated to jump in.  But the opportunity to spend a few hours with these new friends sounded such fun that I hopped in the car and drove over.  And I loved it!  Seems many of the girls have little experience with quilting, but Christianity has built their friendship and given purpose for them to thread their needles.  My first meeting, we brought out all the scissors and made blankets to donate to a nursing home in honor of a mom who passed away.  What a sweet, tender, fun time among friends. God has a way of weaving all kinds of us into a task.  Isaiah 11 says He brings a wolf and a lamb, a leopard and a goat, a calf and a lion to live at ease with each other.  He makes docile neighbors of those who usually aren't.  He makes swimmers of those who don't swim, and He brings together a quilting group of nonquilters, adding smiles and laughter to encourage along life’s roads.  So I ask you to think for a minute: Have you noticed any new fish bowls lately?  Ready to get wet?

God & the AC guy

Where do you mention God, and where do you not?  How openly do we include His name in conversation?  Various versions of those questions flashed through my head when talking with our air conditioner repair guy this week.  Glad to say he fixed our AC problem with just a pound of freon, but as I signed his service papers at our kitchen table, he mentioned his daughter leaving for college.  His voice dipped in sadness.  I looked up to see his eyes do the same, and what quickly came to mind was how the Lord eased me through that same situation with my kids years ago.  Right that second when the name of God hit, there was a hiccup in my heart.  Describe it as a point of crucial decision or maybe a spiritual test. If the Lord is prompting my heart, will I follow through?  Doubt rushes in, asking "Will I offend? Will it seem like I’m pressuring him? What if he gets mad?"  Actually the questions are valid, but in the end, whom do I aim to please?  For whose sake am I willing to risk?  I shared with our AC guy how I prayed in those years before, during, and after college.  He listened and never even hinted of becoming angry.  I knew great pleasure for having offered those few sentences.  I’ve felt those little tugs too many times to ignore them.  I’ve known blessings many times over for having followed through, and I trust the Lord blessed the AC guy to hear testimony about prayer.  All days of the week, in homes and workplaces and neighborhoods and schools, the Lord creates situations for us to serve each other.  I contend that we mention His name whenever and wherever He prompts—in public, in private, in whatever circumstances He calls.  He wants our entire world to know He is here and that He loves them. 

Neighborly task gone awry

Your neighbors go out of town, and what happens?  Do you take care of their dog?  Maybe water their plants?  We’ve been recipient of neighborly kindness when friends feed our cats.  Recently, though, we had a different request come our way.  A neighbor asked us to help with his rent house.  As he had moved away years ago, he now had tenants getting ready to leave.  He estimated 30 minutes for us to conduct their exit walk-through.  Several days later, he apologized for the process taking much longer than 30 minutes.  And the task was still unfinished.  Due to problems with some walls and part of the ceiling inside the house, the final transfer of garage door openers and house keys had become complicated.  Our neighbor said, “Sorry for being such a pain.”  We knew he truly felt bad for the inconvenience.  But the occasion became blessed opportunity to explain our motivation for wanting to help.  Matthew 19:19 says to love your neighbor as yourself.  Managing properties long-distance isn’t easy.  If we were in his shoes, we could use the help.  Little did we know in the beginning how this walk-through would be opportunity to live out our Christianity.  Something so small became occasion to share the Bible.  And somewhere in all of this I've smiled to remember that VeggieTales tune:  “When you love your neighbor, loving means lending a hand.”  Those fun Veggies look up toward the music playing overhead to try to figure out where the song is coming from (I chuckle as they somehow hold things with their arms and hands that don't exist.)  I love how God works.

Revisiting the old neighborhood

Remember your childhood house?  Mine was near Lackland Air Force Base.  Our little pink asbestos-shingled abode served as shelter for 4, and we played baseball in the front and ate hamburgers at our picnic table in the back.  I've driven by the old place several times since, and actually the notion of revisiting comes to mind because a friend recently revisited his high school neighborhood.  Beginning to miss some of his buddies, he headed toward his old stomping ground after work one night.  Along the way, he talked with the Lord and valued the time.  Then when he arrived, the message hit hard.  Misery set in.  He turned off the ignition, just sat in the car, and felt anger and sorrow refloat to the top.  Seeing the old school reminded him of former drug abuse.  Seeing his apartment brought back the days when his mom supplied alcohol and partied with his friends.  His visit became an hour flooded with heartache from life’s worst times.  Yet there was some good in all this.  As pain can grow humility, all the devastating memories and all the shame and regret served to deepen my friend's gratitude toward the Lord.  If still living in his old ways, he says he might be sitting in jail or maybe even dead, and now how earnestly he appreciates the Lord delivering him.  He was newly inspired to live humbly and take the Lord seriously and not waste his second chances.  No more self-righteousness.  And so my friend poses some questions for all of us, “Is there somewhere we need to revisit today?  Somewhere I need to go?  How about you?"

It's Egg Day!

It's the simplest of things.  Eggs.  Who eats eggs for breakfast?  Probably the whole world does.  Having 2 fried eggs in the morning would be a huge highlight for my husband.  And for me to cook the eggs would be even more hugely a surprise!  As my sweet friend so casually talked about washing all the breakfast dishes at her house, my heart started to sink.  I asked, “How often do you cook breakfast?”  Answer:  “Every day.”  And I promptly paused.  And I paused still more.  All these years I’ve cooked breakfast such a small percentage of the time.  But now my weekday schedule is different.  Sometimes I have an out-of-town trip and leave in the morning by 4:30 or occasionally 6:00, but often I don’t have a strict timeframe anymore.  Raisin Bran, Mini-Wheats, and Lucky Charms no longer need to predominate our home menu.  And the motivation behind the change is what’s important.  It’s kindness.  In 2 Samuel 9, kindness is no small thing.  King David seeks to offer kindness to anyone in Saul's family.  Soon David meets Mephibosheth, who is Saul's grandson.  David explains he wants to restore land to Mephibosheth and offer him a lifelong invitation to eat at the family table.  David's kindness is abundant, and when considering the fact that Saul tried to kill David repeatedly, the depth of David’s kindness is all the more remarkable.  He demonstrates a kindness that's neither fluffy nor cute nor superficial.  It's kindness with real meat.  Real hearty chunks of character, all for the sake of Jonathan, who was Saul’s son and David’s covenant friend.  Here in the Old Testament, with all its many battles, we see kindness.  God's kindness.  And now in real life for me, I have nothing even close to anybody trying to kill me.  My gesture to cook 2 eggs for breakfast should be comparatively quite simple.  And I'm happy to say our kitchen now serves eggs at least once a week.  It's a slow change, yet the smile on my husband’s face beams across the room.  And I hereby testify to the Lord's ability to transform a very committed non-cook into someone now giddily happy to pull out the old skillet and fry up some eggs.  I gladly pronounce, “It’s Egg Day!”

Gecko at the door

This morning I awoke to a gecko dangling at the door.  We have oodles of those little pink guys, and they scurry into even the skinniest crevice.  Somehow this one didn’t quite make it over to the other side.  Used to be that our cat would chase down geckos, but he's 20 now and has long lost his urgency to embark upon too many chases.  This time I was on my own.  This gecko had shimmied into the doorjamb, and I had 2 black beady eyes staring at me, with 2 helpless front legs dangling from about 6 feet high on the door.  I could feel my heart softening for this creature that I normally wouldn’t want anywhere near me.  Was he alive?  If I pulled the door, could he loosen and squirm away?  I peered a bit closer for any signs of life.  He showed slight color in his head, though with salmon-colored skin, a little color is hardly anything.  It was the tremor in one of his legs that led me to want to loosen him from the door.  He was harmless, and though he has plenty of companions who make me squeal sometimes, I didn't want him to suffer needlessly.  I sidestepped behind and grabbed the doorknob and pulled back, and he dropped all the way down.  For a couple of moments, he lay motionless, maybe stunned, and then he ran.  For him having been so helpless a few seconds ago, looking so tortured and desperate, he seemed to regain life and energy in an instant.  Just like us.  One decision can leave us jammed.  Temptation slithers around, and if we consent to it, we might open the door to a huge, long line of consequences, and suddenly we're panicked.  Just one sloppy move.  But I don’t want to go there.  The Lord can surely rescue us, but I don’t want to grieve Him.  I don't enjoy feeling my heart race in fear, and I don’t want to hinder anyone else with that same feeling.  I don’t want to be that gecko jammed in the door.  And I pray to the Lord, who is our greatest protector, that He may free us up and make us ready and willing to move when He calls.  He loves us so completely that my body aches to consider the thought of grieving Him.  First Corinthians 10:13 reads, “No temptation has seized you except what is common to man.  And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.  But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.” 

Unwonted invitation

Do you ever hesitate to invite someone in fear they’ll decline?  I mean, how disappointing would it be to invite a new friend for coffee, or how embarrassing could it be to try to gather a group together, but in the end no one comes?  I’m hoping this week’s story encourages you.  A couple of weeks ago, I invited some friends to my house to study.  I hadn’t seen these friends this summer, and I was eager to brew my new pack of Community Coffee and laugh with these girls and seriously study all at the same time.  But one by one, their emails replied no, can’t come, not this time.  The first said, “Sorry, Linda, but I’m going on vacation.”  The next one said, “Yes, I’ll be there,” but in the end she didn’t come because her children were sick.  Still another friend wrote, “I’m intending to come, Linda, but I’m waiting for a certain phone call that will determine whether I can or not,” and evidently her phone call didn’t allow her to come.  All the while, I held to my lesson plan, hoping for even just one friend to be available, as I had prayed before ever emailing the invitation and didn’t want to abandon the date and topic I felt the Lord gave me.  Thursday night I stayed up late to fine-tune some teaching points on 2 Samuel 9.  Friday morning came, it was 10:30, and no one arrived.  The clock hit 11 AM, and still no one.  The house surely felt empty.  My heart felt a little hollow too.  Yet there was no point in sitting around just being sad.  And then around 11:15, an interesting thing happened.  The phone rang, and I noticed it was a friend from church.  Often he asks me to substitute-teach, and so my brain started to race in excitement, though I didn’t want to get too excited too soon.  This friend explained he had been sick with allergies, and would I teach his class on Sunday?  Almost jumping through the phone, I exclaimed, “Yes, I’ll be happy to teach!”  And in reality my heart had already leaped its first tall building in a single bound.  I had this freshly unused lesson so eager to be taught.  I felt the corners of my mouth stretching into the hugest of smiles to realize 2 Samuel had just found its new time and place.  And come Sunday, our lesson proved wonderfully fruitful.  All the way through, the Lord kept giving insightful discussion across the class.   Afterward I pondered the whole sequence of events.  Why did the Lord lead me to invite the Friday group in the first place?  He could have bypassed that invitation, given that none of them attended anyway.  In staring at my calendar, I realized He timed things perfectly to have me stay up late Thursday to study because Friday and Saturday already held music commitments.  Certainly He knew the schedule of things.  Perhaps I invited the Friday group because someone there felt lonely.  Maybe the Lord blessed them through the invitation to know they were thought of and included and loved, even though they couldn't come.  I do know I was blessed in the thrill of seeing the Lord connect multiple dots along a road that seemed to meander here and there.  Isaiah 55 talks about the Lord’s word never returning void, and so all the more reason we have to proceed when He leads us to offer invitations.  Regardless of any outcome visible or invisible to us, He speaks with large-scale purpose, bringing to fruition as He sees fit.

A radio blessing

Have you ever hosted a guest who stirred up some tension?  I don’t mean something negative necessarily, but just as conversation progresses, suddenly it’s time to address an issue.  Recently I invited a friend to stay at our house for a few days, hoping to offer her a respite from her heavy family situation.  My husband consented to the idea, and truly we were delighted to help.  We had fun cooking dinner together.  We talked; we laughed.  In this case, our guest didn’t say anything hurtful or keep us up too late at night.  Neither did she offend any neighbor or pester our cat.  In fact, she was quite respectful, and we love her dearly to this day.  But tension arose in realizing how she lives at her house.  As the tension grew, I sensed the Lord drawing me to address the issue.  I asked Him, “Lord, how do I handle this?”  My friend’s family was not my family.  I had no ground of exact circumstances.  I didn’t want any words to appear uncaring or even possibly construed as a reprimand.  The next morning I awoke and read through my inbox of emails.  There sat the day’s program listing for KSLR, which is a local Christian radio station.  Joni Eareckson Tada would be talking today about not letting circumstances rule daily life.  My heart fluttered to realize that this could be the Lord’s answer to my plea.  Joni speaks from circumstances similar to my friend’s, and certainly if the Lord was leading me to share this radio program, He knows it’s the perfect thing to do.  But would my friend be awake in time to hear this message on the radio?  I prayed again, “Lord, if this is You leading me, I’m asking You to set the timing here.”  And soon my friend walked into the living room, and the Lord guided our conversation so we could listen to Joni on KSLR.  The tension had been uncomfortable, and I had hoped for more of a carefree pajama party than any kind of instructional time, but that’s not what the Lord called into play.  His plan brought greater depth to this respite for my sweet friend, and I love Him for that.  In John 16:13, Jesus says, “But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all truth.  He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come.”

Chronicle of an inexperienced tiler

I had never tiled a floor.  The idea was close to defeating me emotionally, and I saw no real reason for it to be that way.  Over the weekend, we laid out the whole roomful of tiles, including the specially-cut ones to fit around the tub and the toilet and up against the walls.  Next would be the messy part with the mortar.  Should I wait for my husband or go it alone?  I prayed.  And I prayed.  And I prayed.  “Lord, am I supposed to tile this bathroom?”  I gathered supplies:  sponge, bucket, rubber mallet, gloves.  I double-checked my Youtube sites, and momentum was gaining.  I figured if I read the instructions carefully for mixing the mortar, that would be the very same thing my husband would do, so why not proceed on my own?  Surely I could calculate proportions for liquid and dry, though I couldn’t stop imagining the magnitude of gloppy, gooey gunk this could be if I measured wrong.  I found the dolly to carry my 50-lb. bag to the back porch.  I took the bathroom scale out there to weigh everything for mixing since I wouldn’t use the 50 lbs. all at once.  I grabbed an old wooden fork for stirring; it was one I could throw away afterward.  Momentum continued to build, and I was ready to mix my first batch of mortar.  Hours passed, and certainly it was sticky work.  By the time my husband came home, I had a good case of leg pain from all the squatting and kneeling and standing back up, but it all seemed to be working.  The Slowest Tiler in the West appeared to actually be putting together a tile floor.  At 10 PM, we closed up shop.  Experienced friends who spurred us onward and a friend who loaned us his wet saw had all taken part, and we had made it.  But this isn't just a DIY how-to story, because beyond Home Depot videos and beyond Lowe’s, it was the Lord who kept me in the game.  He answered my continuous prayers and kept me from panic and fear and wanting to quit.  This tiling became a confidence-builder for me.  And I thank the Lord for His presence, for when we experience Him in one place, we grow to rely on Him for the next.  In Isaiah 41:10, the Lord says, "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

Hurricanes of Santo Domingo

Did I hear her right?  “I can handle hurricanes,” she said.  But is that possible?  I looked back over my shoulder to watch her lips reiterate the words.  In my mind, hurricanes are these ominously powerful things that only God can tame.  Yet my friend explained her childhood in the Dominican Republic.  Pointing midway up on the calf of her leg, she talked about the water level in her house.  Such was common occurrence after hurricanes in her city of Santo Domingo.  She remembers making paper boats with her brother and floating them inside the house, as her parents engaged the children in games to stave off any fear.  And it was at that point in her story that my brain froze because I couldn’t fathom playing games in the midst of a hurricane.  How would the emotions relax enough to actually play a game?  But then the idea translated in my head, and I remembered how the Lord calmed me one day in the midst of a dangerously heated argument.  Witnessing the abusive nature of one particular person, my body began to tremble, yet the Lord directed me and gave presence of mind to lead people away from the danger.  Though I trembled, I didn’t fear.  So perhaps I can imagine games and toys after all.  My friend said hurricanes come with warning, whereas tornadoes may not, and that's why she can “handle” hurricanes.  She's familiar with their approach and the aftermath for those living in concrete houses.  Still for me, I contemplated issues of contentment in this world.  In Philippians 4:12-13, Paul correlates contentment with finding strength in the Lord, regardless of situation, whether hungry or well-fed, whether living in plenty or in want.  Given Paul’s many shipwrecks and imprisonments and all the stones, rods, and lashings he withstood, surely he knows about finding strength in the Lord.  And I ask the Lord to give you peace today, that in contentment we may float paper boats amidst our storms.

Gosnell & the fallen bird

 

I saw a strange white spot in the front yard grass, and it was an odd shape.  I bent down for a closer look and realized this spot was a bird.  Was he alive?  What could I use to softly nudge him?  I found a gray-and-white feather lying nearby, and it would serve to allow me to check on him gently, yet soon I realized he couldn’t move.  I wondered if he had a sibling anywhere, and a couple of feet away I saw his brother.  Nudging him with the same feather, I was intrigued to see this brother was still alive.  I called my mom because she loves birds and studies them and possibly she’d know what to do, yet she said sometimes there’s not a lot you can do except hope that the parent bird will come.  Years ago I rescued a fallen bird and put him in a box that I tied to a tree branch near his nest, and it seemed that he lived.  My predicament today, though, was different because this bird was younger, and the mountain laurel branches that held his nest looked too flimsy to support a box, and for me to put him back in his actual nest was impossible because it was too high.  I did use a cloth to gently move him into the shade.  I took him a little plastic lid of water and kept trying to touch it to his beak.  One time I stepped away from him and heard the telephone ringing in the house.  It was my husband calling to say the jury in the Gosnell trial had just now declared him guilty of murdering 3 babies and “involuntarily slaughtering” an adult life.  All morning the whole issue of life had been running through my head with these little birds.  Life is precious.  It’s fragile.  And as plainly as the latter verses of Deuteronomy 30 tell us to choose life, somehow our society has come to dispose of it rather flippantly.  This little bird today stretches his neck and squirms with his wings to try and find his way.  He fights to live in a world he can’t even see because he’s too young for his eyes to open.  He doesn’t know why he’s struggling to survive, but his nature is to not quit, even already having suffered the terror of a 10-foot fall from a tree, which especially for a tiny bird is a thought that makes me shudder.  Into the afternoon and now the evening, I’ve kept checking on my little bird, and I tip his plastic lid of water, seeing his mouth open to sample more moisture.  I prayed early on for the life of this young one, yet in the beginning I had to honestly address the issue of how much effort I would put into trying to save him.  I concluded that whether this bird lives minutes, hours, or days, the Lord has used him to illustrate the beauty of life.  Even the youngest have a desire to live that compels them to fight.  How I thank the Lord for giving me a day unconstrained that I would find this bird and work to provide for his life. Yet the question remains:  To what extent do we stand up for life?  We have opportunity daily to encourage our world to uphold it.  Ultimately Jesus Christ is our way and truth for all that lives.

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.

Up by the bootstraps

On Friday I worked an estate sale.  People came, and they browsed and bought, and I loved being available to help my friend.  Yet something else was happening at the sale.  As customers came and went, there was opportunity to speak Spanish.  I hadn’t anticipated it, yet I found a few Spanish words rolling off my tongue.  Then a few more here and there, and the spontaneity of it was great fun.  It’s not as if I spoke for hours or told long stories or anything, but my friend had never heard me speak Spanish, and she got a kick out of it, and we laughed for a good while.  Some of the customers seemed quite surprised too at my joining in their conversations.  The wonderful blessing overall was that the laughter eased my shoulders, which had been aching with anxiety over an ever-changing list of things, both good and bad, including issues carrying over from weeks before.  Psalm 40 talks about the Lord lifting us up out of the mud and mire, and certainly I sensed the Lord lifting me.  Upon returning home that night, I mowed grass and worked outside with the radio on, soon realizing the Lord was still at work.  Air 1 Radio played “Lift Me Up” by the Afters.  Then came NeedToBreathe’s “Keep Your Eyes Open,” followed by the lyrics of Jamie Grace, saying “Lord, I love the way You hold me.”  Such common things the Lord was using to lift me, as if re-dressing me with new boots that would reset my stance and provide cushion all the way up to my shoulders.  The anxiety seemed to extract from my bones, pulling away from my shoulders and massaging at the same time.  So readily He entered my circumstances, weaving ordinary things to become extraordinary blessing.

Leaping with Daniel

I awoke early, early, early.  Too early for my choosing.  The idea in my head was to host Bible study on Daniel 5.  King Belshazzar has a banquet that leads to trouble, and suddenly the fingers of a human hand write a message on a wall of the royal palace.  People use the phrase “the writing’s on the wall” without referencing the Bible, and that would be the point of the study:  to read the actual stories from which these indirect usages have come.  I emailed friends to see if anyone was available to study at the house, and lo and behold, here they come, and I’m so happy for a new friend to join us too.  Midway through our time together, I hear this new friend say how perfectly this study fits her personal circumstances.  And as she started explaining, my heart began to melt.  Here the Lord had awakened me days ahead about a certain topic for the sake of someone who would attend our study, yet whose email address I didn’t even have.  He would make certain she received an invitation, in whatever way He deemed best, which I later learned was through one of our ladies who is her dear friend.  Indeed the Lord loves us that much—that He brings together many for the sake of one, setting our feet on paths that lead to things we’re unaware of, bestowing blessings in all kinds of directions.  Earlier in the week, I had been frustrated at not finding some notes I’d written last year that would relate to our study this week.  Yet when my new friend commented on the perfect match within these verses of Daniel, I realized it was good for me not to find those notes because they contained other references that could’ve distracted me.  The Lord had let my eyes see only what He intended.  His orchestrations do amaze me.  I’m like the one on the street who stands motionless in the midst of loud honks and heavy traffic, with my mouth agape, wondering afterward if my jaw really did hit the ground.  I'm not really unaware of the surrounding traffic, but I'm spellbound at times to witness the Lord at work.  Motionless on the outside, yet giant leaps of joy within.