Prayer & a movie

Nobody wanted to lead. They quickly surrendered their hands in the air and pleaded “Not me!” The consensus asked to wait for an official person, meaning one whose company nametag spelled out “CHAPLAIN.” The prevailing reluctance to pray caught me off guard because a prayer by one of us regular folk can be just as valid and effective as the clergy’s. Speaking as someone who’s served a few times on church staffs, I attest to my staff-dom itself not suddenly putting me closer to God. And then last night in the movie Have a Little Faith, which I did enjoy very much, one character initially felt unworthy of writing a eulogy for a rabbi who served his congregation for 40+ years. Yet many people not employed as ministers in churches, hospitals, or the military also devote decades to knowing and following the Lord. I respect them all the same—with or without an official nametag. So what is our view of pastors, priests, and those who wear “the cloth”?  As a fellow Christian, I’m grateful for their love of God and for their positions of service. Still the Lord gives us a whole world to impact, and we don’t have to wait till we’re on the payroll to pray and serve freely.

How far will I go?

Buses present such an attraction for me. I read about an artist who includes buses in her work, and instantly I wanted to attend her exhibit. It’s because the mention of a bus returns me to an amazing time with God. That first bus ride was big. Even initiating the discussion with my husband beforehand required some courage. To put the topic on the table was to give breath to that new idea flitting around in my head. That first step is crucial. Dipping that first toe into uncharted waters. Delving into that first book to learn a new language. Auditioning for a new role that's drama instead of music. Entering a new building to meet an entirely new church. Not every call from the Lord appears in big print on the front page, and how far will I go to find Him? Will I pray faithfully? Will I seek Him through the Bible? Will I let Him set the circumstances or allow impatience to set my own? Will I trust Him to lead in new surroundings, or will I discard the whole notion in fear? Psalm 121 says He will not let our feet slip. Hebrews 11 says He rewards those who diligently seek Him. Your bus may look different from mine, yet each of our roads points to an amazing God. May we encourage each other to seek the Lord and take those first steps. 

An oboe sabbatical

No oboe for 4 months. It had been an unplanned sabbatical. Now I faced the customarily unfun days of rebuilding embouchure muscles and aspects of breathing and hand position that tend to slip. Yet there was a greater gap about which I wondered. I never know quite where the Lord is taking this music. Would I sense His presence again? Would He use this instrument yet another time to reveal Himself? I’d been praying. I tried playing oboe alongside my husband on guitar, but the first few days fell flat. I could play for a longer time because my embouchure was strengthening, but I didn’t sense the Lord turning on a light bulb of ideas. But that very next day was different. As my husband noodled around on the guitar, I opened my oboe case and soaked my reed to join in, and we came upon a fresh creativity. The Lord was giving melodies I hadn’t imagined, and the vibrato through the horn carried a rich resonance that floated so fully into every ounce of my being. Altogether my heart shot forth a joyful adrenaline, and I loved the Lord for revealing new again.

Mumphord's BBQ & more

I love Mumphord's.  Plain and simple.  This was my first visit to Victoria, and I loved the grid of streets around the town square and the absence of highway overpasses. The cows and the farm fields along our 2-hour drive had already given fresh air for my brain to start to relax.  And a wonderfully quaint through-type arch bridge on U.S. 87 can do wonders for city folk who have become too hustled and bustled.  Stepping foot into Mumphord’s was simply icing on the cake.  The rustic setting, the scrumptious, plentiful portions of brisket, and the charm of the people.  The staff seemed genuinely happy and at ease, and the girl who delivered our plates talked to me over her shoulder as if I was one of her own.  The simplicity of their helpfulness was strikingly noticeable because it appeared uninstructed and neither hurried or puffy.  The whole atmosphere was down to earth, and when the man cooking outside in the back saw us at our car, he readily returned my wave.  Their kindness instilled in me a desire that bloomed so quickly to reciprocate.  Ephesians 4:32 connects the ideas of kindness and compassion and forgiveness, as rooted in Jesus’ example.  Mumphord’s didn’t advertise Christianity on their menu, yet their humble example caught my attention.

A visitor of patients – possibly

I wasn’t too thrilled about this meeting.  I loved our years of playing and singing music on the third floor, but it seemed that season at the hospital had ended.  I love the Volunteer Coordinator who invited me to the meeting, but was there really a role for me anymore?  Last week when a friend suggested I inquire, her words carried a sensation that intrigued me—maybe that intangible, inexplicable sensation that the Lord sometimes imposes to compel us to follow through.  So I drove to the annual meeting of volunteers.  And as I crossed the threshold of our meeting room, the blessings began to pour.  Of particular interest was a lady who spoke of her role as a Patient Visitor.  For 6 years, she visited patients to offer magazines and conversation.  Instantly a chorus of bells and whistles started to sound in my head, and my heart fluttered to envision myself in the same role.  Could I also be a Patient Visitor?  Being severely ill and away from home could easily render a patient just plain sad, and I’d love the opportunity to brighten someone’s day.  I have another meeting next week, and I don’t want to jump ahead of prayer, but my eyes are watchful for confetti and curly-cues showering on the horizon.  My pointy party hat is ready.  Thank you, Lord.

Moses, a stutterer?

A friend told me about Moses, and I was intrigued.  Somehow I’d never before heard Moses described as a stutterer.  "Lord, where does Your Bible talk about this?”  Months passed after my initial prayer, and actually my focus faded a bit.  Here now this week in the midst of reading a Jennifer Rothschild book, I stared at Exodus 4:10, in which Moses describes himself as “slow of speech and tongue.”  This could be it!  This could be why some people say he stuttered!  As my adrenaline raced, I came quite close to turning a cartwheel.  The Lord answered the prayer of an ordinary girl wanting to learn.  That’s important because I remember a high school geometry teacher in whose class I felt forever lost and increasingly disinterested.  Yet with Jesus, He knows how to reach us, and He saves the lost.  We have a Teacher who inspires our love for learning by answering questions we forgot we even asked.  And I saw again how often His blessings come when my Bible is open.

A mesmerizing tune on the piano

Suddenly I’m in the piano mode.  Hadn’t been playing too much, yet I’d been asked to play the next Sunday.  “Lord, what do I play?”  Could be out of a book.  Could be something loosely in my head.  I sorted through handwritten notes and a stash of books and came upon a Jim Brickman piece called “Winter Waltz.”  The minor key grabbed me, and I liked that the phrases gave option for slowing and quickening.  Soon certain parts of the music became almost mesmerizing.  Each time I turned to the third page, three particular measures drew me in.  They became far more than blots of ink on a page.  I must have played those notes at least 20 times over the week, and they left me almost numb, as if unyielding to any threats to disrupt the aura.  It was just me, in my little house, given nothing the rest of the world knew about.  Yet this “nothing” was wonderful.  The Lord had put a mountain in my front room and led me to its highest point to experience His answer to my prayer.  He had shown me the piano piece to play on Sunday.

Being – with the little church

It’s my one-month anniversary for attending a weekday group with a nearby church.  My schedule is different right now.  I’ve been asking the Lord where I should be, and turns out I’ve been spending one morning each week with some women of this little church.  It’s a situation of being rather than doing.  I don’t know ahead what our weekly sessions will bring.  Maybe prayer, maybe journaling, maybe Bible study.  Maybe reflecting on the Lord’s provision.  Without a prescribed list of what to do, our little group is simply available to each other.  It’s quite refreshing.  We sit in the foyer of the building, and I often have a picturesque view.  Big windows that let me touch inside and outside together.  Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God . . .”  Here serenity is held in a soft blue sky, a slight breeze, and the sound of the Lord’s name. 

Beyond the anxiety

It’s too much.  Suddenly we feel crazy, having been unaware of how high the anxiety was mounting.  Neither a resounding scream nor a prolonged cry resolves anything anymore.  I watched a movie about a girl who bore the brunt of her mother’s anxieties.  From 10 years old, this girl with a sweet little freckled face endured criticisms that slowly crushed her.  Because the mom regretted her own childhood obesity, she criticized her daughter’s slight chubbiness and continued to hound her through high school and college.  Along the way, the daughter became anorexic, eventually committing suicide.  In real life, I think of one friend who has dealt with an eating disorder.  I think of friends who struggle with depression that has led them to attempt suicide.  God has connected me with these friends as blessings, as I have studied the Bible with each one.  At times they’ve wanted to crawl off the planet.  Yet in the midst of their pain, they have come to know Jesus, who lifts and replenishes them over and over.  There is hope in the name of Jesus Christ, who knows the depth of our every hurt.  When we feel swallowed by the world, we can call out to Him for help.

From "Yes, Dear" to theater

Just 5 words.  And they’re really so simple.  It was the way she posed the question.  The tension in her jaw and the low voice and the steady pace.  Something hadn’t felt right when I’d been saying my lines in the play, and here I heard Kim on TV asking, "What did you just say?"  It was one of my lines almost exactly.  Her voice inflection was convincing, and I knew the Lord was giving me her example.  He was answering my plea for help in this world of theater that’s new for me.  I didn’t plan to watch “Yes, Dear,” though He stepped my feet toward the television for a blessing.