He is Risen!

He is Risen!!

When I decided to travel with Jesus, I checked my heavy baggage at the cross. But for some reason I still have some carry-ons that should have been left behind with the rest of my luggage. It's surprising what kinds of things I insist on traveling with--things that just slow me down, hinder by ability to do what I need to do, or take up valuable time keeping them secure. Guess I'd better dump those too.

Jesus died so I didn't have to be weighed down with my luggage (sin). He wants me to give it all to him. If that is all he did, that would have been enough. 

But then, up from the grave he arose.

He is Risen Indeed!!!

That would have been more than enough for me, but not for God. He went even further and sent us the Holy Spirit. WOW, what a mighty God we serve.

May your celebration of the Resurrection be glorious,

Jan

Discover Jesus Moment #7

As I have occasionally said, my mind takes me to some interesting places when I think about what to journal. Yesterday, while writing about my experience at my first Passover Seder, I was also thinking about the challenge put before those of us at my women's Bible study of Revelation. We are to discover what Jesus is revealing about himself as we go about our daily lives.

While taking a break from writing, I reread the scripture for this week's lesson--Rev. 7. It paints a glorious high-def, 3D picture of a great multitude from every nation, tribe, people, and language standing before the throne and clothed in white robes. They are waving palm branches and singing praises to God. Also worshiping God are angels and the 24 elders. In the midst of all this glory, John is asked by an elder, "These in white robes--who are they, and where did they come from?" John answered, "Sir, you know." With that, the elder proceeds with his explanation. "These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb..."

Whoa. Just a minute. My mind did a double take at this statement. I know that Jesus shed his blood as an atonement for my sins. But, they have washed their robes and made them white? They did it. Christ gave the blood, but they had to do the washing. Hmmm. I wasn't sure what role the tribulation played in all this. For all I know, we could be in it right now, but the implications of doing my own laundry really got me to thinking. In order to wash my dirty, sin-stained garments, I need to:

• Recognize my clothes are dirty. Thankfully the Holy Spirit gladly shows me the stains.  
• Take them off.
• Wash them in the blood. 
• Watch the stains be removed and the dirt come out as the cleansing unfolds.
• Not be ashamed of my nakedness.
• Recognize that this is a continuing process that won't end until I join those gathered in that glorious throne room.

Then I can sing out with the rest of the white robed multitude, "Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb." Rev 7:10 

 Amen

Here is my Discover Jesus Moment #7.  Jesus bears my sin as he sheds his blood. I bare my soul as I present myself naked before him, filthy garments in hand.

I am not going to elaborate on the above points. The Spirit will lead each of us in different directions as we read and/or contemplate them. You go where you are led, and I will go where I am led, but each path will ultimately lead us AGAIN to the foot of the cross. See you there.

In the meantime, I have laundry to do, both spiritual and earthly.

 Jan

Remembering the Passover

Year: 1961
Location: Tel Aviv, Israel
Occasion: Passover Seder

I was just nineteen years old at the time, but experiencing a Seder meal with Orthodox Jewish friends and a great-aunt had a life long impact on me. I really didn't know what a Seder meal was all about, but I knew it was extremely important to our friends. They had been getting ready for weeks.

The women had been cleaning their homes from top to bottom. By weeks end, there was not a crumb in sight except for the small pile left for the children to find while conducting a thorough search of the rooms. Then dad used a long turkey feather to brush those crumbs into a wooden spoon. After all crumbs were found, he burned them. The house was now kosher for Passover. All leaven was gone.

The women had also unpacked and washed their Passover dishes and tableware. Their everyday dishes were put away for the week. All was ready except for the cooking and Seder plate preparation. A lamb shank needed to be roasted as did an egg. Parsley and bitter herbs were washed, apples and nuts were diced then mixed with honey, cinnamon and other spices. Matzah and wine, kosher for Passover, were purchased along with all the food for the celebration meal. Finally, the table was set with gleaming plates, sparkling wine glasses, snow-white linens, and flickering candles. On each dinner plate was a beautiful illustrated Haggadah (order of service) and most importantly, the family Seder plate as a center piece.

It was finally time for the guests to arrive, and the remembrance of the Exodus out of Egypt to begin. I had no idea what to expect.
 
We all slowly made our way to the table and watched the mother light the evening candle and pray a prayer of blessing. "Baruch atah Adonai elohaynu melech..." Blessed are you, Adonai our God, Sovereign of the Universe...

As I am trying to take it all in, the youngest child suddenly pipes up, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" The answer to that question sped up my introduction into Jewish culture, faith, and tradition. I suddenly found myself on a fast learning curve. As the child's questions continued along with the answers, the entire story unfolded before my eyes. It recounted the days of slavery and bondage in Egypt, the ten plagues, the smearing of lamb's  blood on the door posts to ward off the Angel of Death, and the parting of the Red Sea.

Woven into the story was the singing of ancient songs. It was while listening to the songs I didn't know, in a language I didn't understand, that I noticed the tears being shed. The older men at the table, with skull caps covering their heads and full beards covering their faces, were weeping openly while singing about the "yam" or sea. The emotion of being led out of Egypt was as real to them that night as it had been to the Hebrew people as they fled through the parted waters two thousand years earlier. Then, within minutes, the tears of sorrow turned to tears of joy. God had redeemed his people. Light of the promised land shone in their eyes as they clapped their hands and sang songs of rejoicing.

That unashamed emotion deeply touched me. Even though I had gone to church all my life, attending Easter and Christmas services as well as Sunday school and Vacation Bible school, I had never ever seen any emotion shown. I had never seen tears shed over Christ's death on the cross. I had never seen joy and awe at the telling of the Christmas story or over the pronouncement, "He is risen." If the emotions were felt, they weren't shown. The only joy I had seen was over Christmas presents and Easter baskets. I had much to learn.

Since then I have learn so much about God's work and faithfulness in the life of his chosen people over the course of history as well as with his people today. I have also learned it is OK to laugh, cry, raise my hands, and dance in the presence of the Lord. I can also shout "Amen, Alleluia," and "Praise the Lord" when so moved, but I can also commune in silence.

I have also learned about remembering. A member is a part of something bigger. For example there are members of a body (arms and legs) and members of organizations. When "re" is added to the word, it means to become a member again. The weeping men at the Passover meal were not merely thinking about God's mighty work in Egypt, they were living it, becoming members of that mass of people fleeing for their lives, becoming one with them. Remembering.

As Maunday Thursday, Good Friday and Easter approach, I really want to remember.


In Christ,
Jan

He is Risen or Pass the Peeps

I was sitting in front of a floral shop this afternoon, and waiting for my daughter-in-law. While I sat there, I looked at the assortment of colorful banner and flags you can hang outside your home. "Happy Easter" most of them said in bright pastel colors. Each one was decorated with either cute, long eared bunnies, fuzzy yellow chicks, colored eggs of all sorts, or flowers ranging from tulips to daisies. This subtle messaging that lumped Easter, eggs, chicks, bunnies, and spring flowers into one big springtime holiday event reminded of my son's experience years ago.

He was living and going to school in Phoenix, Arizona. As Easter drew close, he went to buy a card to send home. He looked at card after card, trying to find just the right card with the right pronouncement of "He is risen." My son thought the lady next to him was doing the same thing until she suddenly exclaimed aloud, "I can't believe the Christians are trying to take over Easter, too!"

This story took place in the 80s. I wonder how many people think the same thing today. I'm afraid it is many more than we can ever imagine. To most folks, Easter is not about "He is Risen", it is more about pass the Peeps, espy the eggs, and chew off the chocolate bunny's ears. How sad.

The church has an incredible amount of work to do while it is still light. Let's invite someone to come hear the Easter message this Sunday, the message of not only "He is risen", but also of "He died for your sins". What good news of hope that is to a hopeless world.

Preparing for Easter,
Jan

Why Do I Run The Race?

I have to pack for a scrap-booking retreat today. As a result of being gone, I probably won't blog again until Sunday evening. I will also be attending a Seder dinner with my son and daughter-in-law. I'm looking forward to a fun weekend.

Anyway, I was at a cold, windy, rainy track meet yesterday. Two athletes, one a 800 meter runner and the other, a miler, each had quite large leads in their awesome runs to victory. After learning their winning times, they each were disappointed that they hadn't run faster. They both said it is hard to run your best race when there is no one ahead of you to overtake, and no one attempting to overtake you from behind. Hmmmmm! They seem to run their best when they are either running from or toward something.  Their comments got me thinking.

Here is the question I am posing today. What makes me run the race that is often mentioned in scripture, the one run before the great cloud of witnesses in Heb 12:1? What makes you run the race? Am I (are we) running from something or someone or toward something or something?  Just askin'. Here are a few scriptures to prime the thinking pump.

Prov. 18:10
Isa 10:3
Isa 40:31
1 Cor 9:24


Happy running,
Jan

I Am A Bell

If you play the white keys on a piano at a consistant tempo, from a high C to a lower C, you have played all the natural notes. If you change the rhythm, you have the first stanza of "Joy to the World". It's all in how it's played. There are whole notes, half, quarter, sixteenth notes and more. There are triplets and trills. There are rests and sustains, pianissimos and fortissimo. Then there are sharps, flats, clefs, measures, and time signatures. And don't forget pizzicatos.  Combine these in different orders and we have the sounds and songs we love as well as the sounds and songs we might not like at all. That is music.

That is also life. I like to think of myself not as keys on a keyboard, but as brass bells in the Lord's hand-bell choir. I have several sounds, several note, that need to be played when called for. Some times I play softly, sometimes loudly, and sometimes not at all. Some songs just don't need my notes. Others have me sounding quite often.

At times I am a whole note that is held onto, It's nice when everyone is a whole note at the same time, resonating together, but I love providing a background tone as others play their notes. When I'm a sixteenth note, I have to be quick and alert, especially when we are in syncopated rhythm. It can be quite challenging.

Throughout the song it is absolutely necessary to keep my eyes on both the conductor and the music, and my ears tuned into the other players. We need to be together. If I don't watch the conductor, I can easily ring in too soon, too late, or completely at the wrong time. As a result, the   music changes. There are even times the listener will cringe at a discordant sound. For example, playing a C natural when the C# is called for doesn't sound very good.

As I said, I see myself as bells, notes in the Lord's choir. If the music I am part of is going to bless others, I can't choose to play my own song while the the conductor is directing the whole choir in something else. I can't decide to be a whole note when the music says I'm a sixteenth note at this point in the song. I can't choose to rest when I am an important part of the melody. I can't play loudly in a quiet section, or ring out so quietly in a fortissimo section that I can't be heard at all. I can't decide to play like I'm in a joyous polka when I am really in a funeral dirge. I have to follow the directions in the music, and the beat given my the conductor. That is all part of being in a bell choir.

When all is done well, the resulting music touches hearts, and is a blessing to not only the hearers, but also the bell players themselves. When we, as bells, live life well, according the the directions in the Word and the beat given by God, the resulting music of our lives also touches hearts and bless everyone who hears.

Trying to play my right bell at the right time and tempo for the glory of God and the blessing of others,
Jan

I've Become My Grandmother

I think I've said this before, maybe not. I know I have thought it many times. Life is so strange! Maybe it isn't life that is strange, but it's the passage of time that is strange. Something is very strange. It didn't seem like too many years ago that I was going though a period of "lasts": my last high school exam, my last day living in my home town, and last day as a teenager. These were always followed by firsts: first day living in a foreign country, first day of college, and first date ever.

The years flew by. There were the first years of marriage, first child, and first days of kindergarten.  Quickly following were first band concerts, first athletic events, and each child's first solo drive in the car. Then, in a matter of a few short years, each concert, each game, and each meet was unbelievably the last one.

Time, as it tends to do, sped on. In rushed our kids' marriages, first grandchildren, and first meals in our children's homes. Within moments our children now got to experience their kids' first days of kindergarten, first band concerts, and first athletic events. The circle continued moving.

The oldest grandchildren have now graduated from school, gotten married, and have their own homes. What wonderful firsts for all of us. Sadly though, in the midst of these new firsts I am once again seeing  "lasts". Tonight is the last elementary school Science Fair in which a grandchild will participate. Then, in a blink of an eye, grandchildren will graduate from high school for four consecutive years. Then, four years later, the last one will be gone. Unbelievable. Round and round it goes.

By the time all this happens, my children will probably be grandparents. Their grand-kids could be starting school. And "firsts" start all over again.

All this round and around of firsts and lasts started my head spinning while I was just innocently sitting here wondering what to write. Strangely, I found myself staring at my thin-skinned, blue-veined, age-spotted hands. They reminded me of Grandmother's hands. I vividly remember sitting on her lap as a girl and watching her veins pop up after I had pushed them down. She seemed quite old to me, at least fifty. Her old hands with their pop-up veins kept me fascinated for long periods of time. Now, as I stared down, I discovered that her hands have attached themselves to the ends of my arms. Now that is a first. And their pop-up veins still fascinate me.

Somehow, somewhere, in the spinning of time and the cycle of firsts and lasts, I have become by grandmother. How did that happen?

I'm going to go ponder life's mysteries for awhile--be back later,
Jan

Discover Jesus Moment #8

During a church service several weeks ago, the person praying before receiving the offering said something to this effect, "We now have an opportunity to give a portion of our money to God. We know he can be trusted to use it well."

WHAT?

MY MONEY? I don't think so. It is not my money! All I have is his. It's God's money, not mine.

It's not about God being trusted to use the offerings well. It's about God trusting me with what he has given me. Am I trustworthy? Will I faithfully give the tithe back to him? He trusts I will. Will I give above and beyond the tithe when the opportunity arises? He trusts I will. Will I prayerfully be a good steward of the resources he has blessed me with? He trusts I will. Will I? That is the question.

Bear with me a few moments here with this Discover Jesus Moment. Before I logged on this morning, I was praying and asking God to show me what to write about. I seldom know what it will be until I start writing. Anyway, the situation described above came to mind. After I finished typing the above paragraph I sat here wondering where to go next with this. Aha. !!!Discover Jesus Moment #8!!!

My comments about stewardship, giving, tithing, or whatever else you want to call it have not always been what they are now. I went through a time when I thought that maybe we would be able to tithe or even give more if and when we had more to give. Or, when the kids got a little bigger maybe we could give more. 10% was way too generous in my eyes back then. I thought 5% was more than enough. In my husbands eyes, if the Bible said to return the tithe to the Lord, that is what you did. So we did.

I am so thankful for that time in our lives. We learned that God provided generously for us in ways we were not even aware until years later. Here is just one example. We have had only three washing machines and dryers in 40+ years of marriage. None of them ever had mechanical problems. That was truly a blessing. We did not have money sitting around with which to buy new appliances. We never had to.  I firmly believe that was God blessing our faithfulness with his money.

Our kids saw their dad write out a check every Sunday morning before church. They saw there was more than one zero following the number. Whoa. They loved putting it into the offering plate as it went down the pew. I am blessed today as I see each of them walking out their Christian walk as generous stewards. The example their dad set, even though I cringed at times, taught them a great lesson.

At this point in my life, giving back to the Lord is a very easy thing to do. Giving above and beyond is no longer difficult for me. That is only because of the Spirit's work in my life. It was not through a big epiphany experience. It was not through guilt inducing sermons. It was through the slow, steady building up of my faith which increased my desire to serve. Jesus changed my heart. I hadn't even realize to what extent that had taken place until after I started thinking about what I had just written on stewardship.

 Yep, he is continually changing me. That is a good thing. Thank you, Jesus, for letting me have these few moments to discover more of your work in my life.

Praying for more discovery moments,
Jan

Discover Jesus Moment #7

Friends post all sorts of animal pictures on face book or send them to me by email. I love the mouse pictures. I think mice are sooo cute, although the field mouse scurrying across my living room carpet at 10 P.M. last week wasn't nearly soooo cute. The mouse droppings on my kitchen counter were just plain gross, gross, gross, and sent me scurrying for my sanitizer! (Microsoft had better update their dictionary to include sanitizer. It is a word in my dictionary) The mouse resting in front of the couch showing me his little white tummy, shiny black eyes, and twitching whiskers was a mixed bag of cute and not so cute at all.

I will say I am not afraid of mice. The sight of one doesn't make me jump, scream, or run out of the room. I look at it and think, "Oh, there is a mouse. How did it get in here?" That being said, I have been double-checking my shoes before putting them on. I don't want any furry creature jumping out of them--not that I'm afraid of mice or anything.

So what do you do? First off, I called the Terminix guy. That was after I had sanitized my counter (several times), swept my kitchen floor, checked the drawers and cabinets, and made sure they were all closed tightly. Terminix man finally came and put additional bait boxes under and around my house.

A few days later that little guy (the mouse, not the Terminix man) ran right in front of me as I was heading for bed. OK, mousie was still hanging around, and getting pretty brave at that. At least he was staying off the counter. Well, that's what I think because I hadn't found any droppings up there. But I did begin mulling over my choices of getting rid of him. Extermination, in other words. POISON! SNAP TRAP! LIVE TRAP! Decisions like this are hard for me.

Poison isn't the nicest way to die. Besides, I didn't want the little guy to enter the food chain and poison some other creature like a cat, hawk, or owl; and I really didn't want him dying in the couch or under the hutch where I would smell him before I saw him. Those things just aren't right.

Snap traps? They usually kill instantaneously,  but I don't like hearing the snap followed by the resulting sound of the mousie's last jerking throes of death.  At least the little guy would have died with visions of peanut butter in his head. I'm just a softy.

Live trap? No! My one experience was with a mouse trapped alive, but dying in terror while trying to escape. Nope. No way.

I know I have said this already, but these types of decisions are so hard for me.

Then came the next evening, Friday night to be exact. I'm sitting in the living room when the now familiar mouse came out from under the couch and stopped just inches in front of it, and three feet from my feet. I looked at him. He looked at me, and proceeded to put his head on his paws to rest. Since he didn't move for the next half hour I figured he was either very brave, very sick, or very dead. I thought about catching him in a plastic container and dumping him outside, then changed my mind when I pictured him jumping up and running straight at me--not that I'm afraid of mice or anything. I finally got up, turned off the lights, and went to bed. The mouse stayed on the carpet in front of the sofa. Sleeping?

I truly expected to see little Montegue Mouse, yes he has a name by this time, still on the carpet and quite cold and stiff as morning rolled around. That was not the case. Instead, he was no where to be found.  Soooo, I stopped at the store on the way home from church and bought some d-Con. I also borrowed a couple snap traps from my son. Now I had to do the deed I didn't want to do.  I didn't do it either. I prayed instead.

"Lord, I don't want this creation of yours living in my house. I really, really don't want him in here, but I don't want to kill him either. I am going to wait two more days before taking action. Please get him out of here for me. Amen" Now, that may sound silly to you. It sounded silly to me, too, but that is what I prayed.

This morning I got up, went into the kitchen to fix breakfast. Hoorah, still no droppings on my counter. I enjoyed my orange juice and scrambled eggs. I then went into the living room to get my lap top and check the floor in front of the sofa. All was well there--no Montegue. Then I bent over to pick up my pen from the floor and caught sight of something under the buffet. There he was, Montegue Mouse! There he was, stretched out in plain sight and dead as a door nail. You can't get much deader that that.

I thanked God for this answer to my prayer. I didn't have to set a trap or put out d-Con. I didn't have to experience the aroma of his decaying body from who-knows-where. Montegue Mouse was in full view. All I had to do was pick him up with a paper towel, take him outside, and deposit his little white-tummied body in a soon-to-be funeral pyre of tree branches and brush clippings.

On my way back to the house I realized that I really had not wanted to kill Monty, that cute, fuzzy, mousie who had become a boarder and paid no rent. I also realized that I had absolutely no problem having bait boxes placed under my house to poison those pesky invaders from the outside world. What was the difference? Here it is. Monty had a face. I had seen his white tummy. I had looked him straight in his dark, black eyes. I had watched his whiskers twitch. He not only had a face, he also had a name. I wanted the best for him.

Funny as it seems, dead Montegue Mouse started my Discover Jesus Moment.

 Let me go back a few years. Before my involvement in prison ministry many years ago, prisoners were bad guys, losers, scary, evil men. By going behind bars once a week, learning to recognize faces and learn names, my attitude toward them changed. They became people just like me; and I wanted the best for them.

Before serving meals at the Wenatchee, WA mission many years ago, I thought those hungry types of people were all worthless drop outs, junkies and alcoholics. Then I met them. I got to recognize their faces, learn their names, and hear their stories. There was the architect who lost his entire family in a terrible tragedy. He hadn't coped well. There was the woman whose husband had left her with small children and without any money. There was... They were all people just like me; and I wanted the best for them.

Some inmates are deeply scarred, damaged, evil men. Some are just kids who made bad choices that resulted in prison terms. The others are somewhere in between. Some people at the mission had serious mentally illness. Others had experienced life changing crisis and couldn't handle them. But in all situations we have this in common: our sinful nature, a face, a name, and a God who knows, loves, and want the best for us.

I have learned over the years that no matter who we were, what our situation, what our fears, our hopes, our desires and joys, Jesus knows us intimately from the inside-out. He recognizes our faces. He calls us by our names. And he wants the best for each us so much so that he poured out his life for us.

Today Jesus showed me something in a new light. It isn't too difficult to help people in need whether  overseas or next door. We can donate money, food, clothing, medical supplies, educational materials, and whatever else is needed. But if we really want to "show and tell" Jesus, we must look at each other face-to-face and eye-to-eye, speak each other's names, and share our stories. That's when we can minister in ways that touch hearts, both theirs and ours.

Face-to-face can be scary.

Lovin' the sunny day and the Son,
Jan

Discover Jesus Moment #6

Most evenings I watch "stuff" on my laptop.  Last night, stuff included MacGyver, the TV series from the 1980s, on HULU. It's a show that has no profanity, no sex, and no dishonesty or ulterior motives on MacGyver's part. In addition, he eats healthy food like tofu and bean sprouts, turns down fatty foods, drinks water, and can escape from any perilous situation with only his trusty Swiss army knife, a roll of duct tape, and whatever else he can find close at hand. Paper clip? Just the ticket! Rusty muffler? Perfect! No string? A shoe lace will do. Besides all that, he is easy going, unflappable, and has the cutest, most impish smile.

If you are in a tight place, MacGyver will get you out. He's dah man.

Last night as I watched him escape from a locked, booby-trapped semi-trailer with only seconds left on the detonator, I thought, "Nothing is impossible for this guy." That is when Sunday's sermon on  Matthew 19:26 popped into mind. "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."

There are so many times we face those impossible, at least in our minds, situations. We think all is hopeless--the disease, the addiction, the betrayal, the depression, the finances, the job, the kids. Where do we go? What do we do? Again, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." Jesus healed the sick, raised the dead, calmed the storm. He did it all. Nothing was/is/will be impossible for our God.

"Well, I haven't seen God do impossible things for me yet," you might say. That's probably true if you are looking for the so called "lightning bolt-hair raising" type of miracle. Miracles can and do happen, but this is what I am continuing to learn, God often turns impossible into possible through his people.

I think most of us have those people in our lives who have an ability to help when help is needed, who innately know what needs to be done, who can calm us down or cheer us up when we need calming down or cheering up. But. sometimes we begin to depend on them to do for us what we deemed impossible to do for ourselves. They become our real life MacGyvers.

For me, this is where I can miss seeing God do his possible in the midst of my impossible. Those instances in which friends and family bless me with a gift card, an unexpected home repair, an invitation to lunch, a much needed ride, or a simple phone call are more than mere blessings. They are God changing my impossibles into his possibles. I truly believe this. Why? because in these situations only God could time everything so perfectly.

God knows exactly when to speak; the Spirit knows exactly when and how to move upon what he has heard. They are one, after all. And my friends and family, the people in my life, recognize the Spirit's voice and obey it. The results is perfect timing.

I guess my Discover Jesus Moment was two-fold. The first was when I realized that it is so easy to let people become the be-all-end-all in my life instead of recognizing it is really Jesus at work the whole time. Nothing is impossible with him. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

The second was when I was reminded once again the importance of really recognizing the Spirit's voice and obeying. It could be Jesus wanting me to play a part in making all things possible for someone else.

Who needs MacGyver when you have Jesus?

Lovin' it,  Jan

I'm Good to Go.

For the past three days I have kept telling myself to sit down and write. For those same three days I have silently replied, "Not now, not today." As I have said before, more often than not I have no idea what to write about. Nothing seems like a dark cloud over my head. Nothings seems unusually funny. Nothing seems wonderfully beautifully or heart stirringly poignant. These days have had their fun times, inspirational times, thought provoking times, sitting in a dentist chair times, and times of solving puzzles, playing computer games, reading good books, or doing absolutely nothing at all. That is my life in a nutshell. (As an aside, is it a pecan, walnut, hazelnut or Brazil nut shell? It's an interesting concept to play with.)

What were the fun times? I had a couple of them. First was a movie date with one of my grandsons for his 16th birthday. We enjoyed the movie, and I enjoyed the conversation over hamburgers and blizzards afterward. I loved hearing about track practice and the resulting sore muscles. I got to hear about the math team competition. (He and his cousin placed 3rd in one area, so are going to State.) I loved to hear him talk about one of my favorite things, PowerPoint presentations, and the awesome things that can be done with them. I loved... You get the picture

The second fun thing was what is causing me to lie low today. I went to the high school track for a walk-a-thon with my son and his family. I knew nothing about the event  until an hour before it started. That's when I got the call inviting to join them if I wanted to. So, since it was promising to be a sunny day, I went. Clad in jeans, sweatshirt, hiking shoes, and light rain jacket I started out to conquer the first lap. Quarter mile, here I come.

While the sun burned through the clouds, I strode out, and checked out the walkers. There were small groups of young kids, teens, and moms. There were  pairs of best friends, co-workers, and married couples. There were young kids who ran at top speed, then slowed to a snail's pace before charging off again. There was a cross country runner aiming for the $100 pledge if anyone completed 5 miles in the hour event--he did it.There were the volunteers marking each completed lap on the walkers' lap sheets, and handing out bottled water. There were three dogs on leashes, and me.

I completed the first lap at a fairly good clip while visiting with my son. A second lap was with my daughter-in-law. Then came laps 3,4...walking and visiting and exchanging pleasantries with whomever came by. By the seventh lap I still had a positive, can-do attitude. but I was hot, tired, and my body was highly recommending I celebrate 7 laps and stop. Then came lap number eight. That is all I needed for two miles. E..I...G....H.....T. Just one measly lap. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, 300 meters to go. Pick it up, put it down, pull it up, plop it down, 200 meters left.  I think I can. I think I can, 100 meters. I know I can. Stand up straight. I know I can. I know I can. Pick up your feet. I know I can. \

I DID IT!  Eight laps, 2 miles, 3,200 meters, 10,560 feet, in one hour! Smile and wave at the adoring fans. They are on their feet, cheering, waving, chanting. "Jan. Jan. Jan" Ooops, I think I got carried away there.

For those of you who exercise regularly, this is just a cool down. For me, this is the first real exercise I have had since my foot surgery in September. I won a marathon.

I had fun being with people, and enjoying the sun and warmth. I had to chuckle a bit, though. I envisioned my grand-kids running the whole time. I could see myself waving each time they passed me up, leaving me in their "dust" Wrong! The boys did some running, but not much. And the girls? They didn't pass me, and I didn't pass them. All us ladies kept our spacing the whole time. After the event as I was talking to the grand-kids, I asked one of the girls how many laps she ran. She look at me with a quizzical look on her face and replied, "You thought we were going to run?" Then she grinned, laughed out loud, and ran off to get her discarded water bottle. Silly Nana.

A silly Nana is what I was for thinking teen-age girls would run during a walk-a-thon. I was even more silly in forcing myself to walk that last lap when this was not a competition. Yesterday my feet were sore, but today I have shin splints. Flexing my ankles to lift my feet up and down doesn't feel very good. Well, I might as well be perfectly honest, I really prefer not to walk at all. Thankfully, neither my knees or hips feel any discomfort. Just my shins.

Those other events over the last three days? Pastor's sermon from Matthew  19:26  "...for with God all things are possible" will feed me during the week. My visit with my therapist was a good time of just unloading and getting a different perspective on a few things. My dentist crowned me with another crown (temporary for a couple weeks). and life is good.

And there you have it. From sore soles to a saved soul, I'm good to go.

Jan

Bible Study Plus Discover Jesus Moment #5

The women's Bible study this morning was wonderful. We did an overview of John's letters to the 7 churches, then looked at the letter to Ephesus (Rev. 2:1-7) specifically. The homework for the coming week is to name each church, and write down each letter's commendations, warnings, and promises to over-comers. Of course, we also have to write about which letter spoke to us the most, and what we gained from it.

If I am honest about it, I like commendations. I don't especially like warnings, but will listen to them. AND, I don't like facing trials, betrayals, hurts or hardships. I want to live in the proverbial "ivory tower" where all is hunky-dory. One  of Beth Moore's comments today really put somethings back into perspective for me. She said, "If we have nothing to overcome, we will not be over-comers or conquerors." In other words, how can we experience the blessings of overcoming if we never have anything to overcome?

It will be interesting, now, to examine each letter John wrote to see what the churches faced, how they over-came, and Christ's promise to them. But even more interesting and important is how Christ will reveal himself to me as the week progresses.


 DISCOVER JESUS MOMENT #5

This Discover Jesus Moment is another of those "after the fact" moments. I will not share any details, but I think you will understand the experience. After going to bed the other night, I couldn't fall asleep. That is unusual for me. I usually fall asleep within 5 minutes.

I couldn't fall asleep because I had something come to mind from the previous day that just wouldn't go away. The more I processed the conversation I had had with a friend whose daughter had been molested, the more I couldn't sleep. It seemed that certain harmless, well-intentioned, loving pats from a family member caused very real problems for the child as unpleasant memories were stirred up. She had been silent about all this because she didn't want to hurt his feelings and make him angry about the molestation all over again.

As I tossed, turned, and hurt for the child and my friend, the Lord hit me over the head with this. As long as the family member's behavior continues, no matter how innocent and loving it is, it is not harmless because  it makes the child a victim each time it happens!

That was my Discover Jesus Moment, but I didn't recognize it at the time. It was then I knew I had to have another talk with my friend. I had to tell her that the family member had to be told about the situation. He would never want to do anything to harm the little girl. It was absolutely necessary he knew what was going on.

Then peace of mind came, and I fell asleep.

So, I talked to my friend yesterday. She sincerely thanked me, gave me a big hug and a "Thank You", and will have that conversation.

After today's Bible study, I further discovered and realized that a loving Father who deeply wants a little girl to overcome unimaginable obstacles will do whatever is necessary to make it happen, even if it means keeping some of us awake at night. Thank you, Lord.

I wonder what he will reveal about himself tomorrow as I look at John's letter to Smyrna  (Rev. 2:8-11) Why not join me.

Jan

Sunshine!

Wow, my windows are really dirty. I know. I know. That is no way to start off this blog. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. The sun is finally shining, and here I am complaining. Well, I'm not complaining, really. I am just stating the obvious condition of my windows. They are really dirty. That fact doesn't come to light until there is some light shining on the panes. Now, that is a real pain.

Since the sun is supposed to stay around until the end of the week, maybe I can get some window washing done sometime over the next few days. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. It is hard to wash windows with crossed fingers, but I'll try.

I also want to get some yard work done. Because I am a fair weather gardener there is a lot of work to do. If it is raining, drizzling, blowing, or freezing, I will stay inside. The gardening can wait. I am also one of those people who takes to heart what I read. If the experts say not to remove leaves from bulbous plants until after the tops die down, I don't do it. That means I don't remove the leaves from the crocosmia in the fall--the tops are still green. After an extremely wet, gray winter, the leaves are now brown, waterlogged, beaten down, rotting, and ugly. They are hindering the plants under them from fully coming to life. They have to go. So yesterday, with the sun out, I got the flowerbed under the magnolia tree cleaned up. It looks great, and I feel good.

I could now sermonize about not seeing the sin in my life unless I let the SON shine on me. I could sermonize about how I can slow down new, God-driven life by not recognize or removing the rotten junk I have in my private storerooms. I could, but I won't--not today.

Today, I will celebrate the sun. Wow! I love it.

Thank you, Lord, for such a beautiful day to live in your grace and love,
Jan

I'm Sad

There are some things I just don't understand. Being Mrs. Logical-Don't-Let-Emotions-Get-In-The-Way, I sometimes have to admit defeat and finally ask myself if is it necessary to understand everything. Maybe it is better not to understand. But is coping with what one doesn't understand good? Here's where I am coming from. Today has been a very sad day for me. Well, the day isn't sad. I am sad, and I am having a difficult time understanding why.

I've been on the verge of tears since I got up this morning. On the verge is where I have remained; and it is almost 6 P.M. I will say that cooking oatmeal, washing dishes, doing laundry, and making soup aren't the most exciting things in life, but they certainly aren't anything to be sad about. So, why am I sad? I don't understand.

Today is another gray, rainy, windy day just like any other spring day in the Pacific Northwest. That is our normal weather around here. We live with it, and grow to love it.

My magnolia tree is forming buds, the crocus are about through blooming, the daffodils will be blooming soon, and the deer still graze their way through my yard several times a week. That is springtime at my place. I live here, and I love it.

For the most part, life is good. Why am I sad then?

Since I had no reason to be sad, I tried playing a computer game to occupy an hour or two. I hoped my verge of tears might disappear. I finished the game, wasted two hours, but was still sad and on the verge. I then watched a couple TV shows on my lap top to cheer myself up. That didn't work. Folding clothes, then trying to nap didn't do anything either. Instead of falling asleep, my mind decided to visit all sorts of places I hadn't been in a long time. As a result, my sadness increased. Surprisingly, my understanding did, too. So now I write.

I write about remembering the times my husband would take one of his granddaughters to town with him to run errands because I chose to stay home for that hour or so. I have no guilt in the molestation of the girls, but I still carry a great sense of guilt. Those old "what ifs" and "if onlys" still raise their ugly heads.  They can succeed in making me very sad.

I write about my excitement for the coming track season, and the great year the grand kids will have. There will be meets spent huddled under blankets while it gusts, rains, and hails, but there will also be meets in the warmth and glare of the sun while wearing shorts and sunglasses. There is a good chance at least two and maybe three of the kids will make it to state competition. There is also a chance they will break more records. Who knows what the season holds for them, but my husband, because of his poor choices and decisions, will remain behind bars and miss it all. It is not my fault he's there where he belongs, but it makes me very sad he will miss it all.

I write about the Sports Award Event at the high school where two grand children received Athlete Scholar Awards as well as Basketball Letters. I attended, but I my husband missed it all.  It is not my fault he's in prison where he belongs, but it makes me very sad he missed it all.

I write about my granddaughters as they begin entering that time in their lives when they will have to deal with boys, and dances, and dates, and friends, and parents... They have to deal with all that teenage stuff while also dealing with whatever emotional baggage their molestation may bring their way. That makes me very sad.

These thoughts are nothing new. They have been around since the beginning of this journey, five years ago in fact. They just don't come around very often any more. But when they do, sadness is still attached to them. That makes me sad, too.

Just having this talk with all of you has helped me see that today wasn't the start of something new, but just emotions being exacerbated by Monday's first track practice and Thursday's Sports Award Event. Now that it all begins to make sense, I feel better. I feel joy and peace rising up.

For those wondering, no, I didn't pray about my situation. I didn't pray for understanding or anything else for that matter. I didn't even think about it. He knows, though, The Lord knows.  I may have been sad, but deep down inside, somewhere, was the joy of Lord. That is my strength. Thank you Jesus

Thank you, too, family and friends, for listening.
Jan

Discover Jesus Moment #4 and More

I will try this again. For the past two days I have logged on, then sat in front of the blank screen trying to figure what to write. After a half hour or so I log off, my mind a blank.

Blank isn't really accurate, I have all sorts of stuff I have thought about, but nothing seems inspired enough, inspirational enough, or interesting enough to put on cyber paper. Maybe that is why I make such a good loner most of the time. I feel like I really don't have anything to say. I don't want to take part in a conversation of any sort, and that is what a blog is--a one sided conversation. I talk, you listen and maybe talk back to your monitor. I don't know what happens once this is floating through the ether of cyber world.

So, now I will try talking. Let's talk about my Wednesday Bible Study on Revelation and the week's assignment that I did yesterday. The Apostle John was in exile on the Isle of Patmos. He was not surrounded by any of the other disciples. They were all dead, most of them martyred. He was not in the midst of a body of believers. He was in exile, away from the Christian community which was under persecution. He was a believer living in a heathen place, yet worshiping on the Sabbath, and caught up in the Spirit.

Here is the question we, as fellow believers, need to ask our selves. If we were living in a totally pagan culture, and completely cut off from the Christian community; if we had no small groups in which to share our joys and our sorrows, or minister to others as well as be ministered to; if we had no places to worship or hear the Word proclaimed, if our closest friends had been tortured and/or killed for their faith, how long would we still worship on the Sabbath? How long would we worship at all if there was no one to keep us accountable, to encourage us, to pray with and for us? How long?

My answer to that question probably explains why I have never experienced any extraordinary, blow-my-mind revelations of Christ. If I can skip church because I'm too lazy to get out of my PJs on a given Sunday, how trustworthy am I in my worship of the one who is my only reason for being? Not very.

OK, now that I've gotten that off my chest, here is something else. I went to the high school last night for the Sports' Award Event. They called it a dinner, but it was really an opportunity to eat sugar-filled, store bought cookies and cake. I did my part by eating a red velvet cupcake. That should fill my year's quota of red dye.

In a way, my Discover Jesus Moment presented itself at the Girls' Basketball Awards portion. As the coach called up each one of the players individually, and talked of her attributes and contribution to the team, these thoughts and questions went through my now sugar laden-dye filled brain. Please bear with me.

I pictured an awards banquet in heaven (there just might be one). When The Greatest Coach of all times finally calls me up before the gathering of saints, will he say any of these things about me?

• She is extremely coach-able.  She listens to what I want and what I expect, then tries her best to do it.
• She is a sacrificial player and gives it her all.
• She is a specialist. She might sit on the bench a lot, but when I need her talent and skills, she is ready to get in the game. She gets her job done.
• She sparks the team on with her enthusiasm and willingness to work.
• She is a joy to have on the team. Her smile and positive spirit can not be dampened.
• She is growing by leaps and bounds. Each practice is better than the last.
• When a full court press is on, I can depend on her to get the ball past the mid-court line and out of enemy territory.
• She is an unselfish player, always looking for an open player and making the assist.
• She is a total team player.

Just wondering.

So there you have it, a peek at some mental images and silent conversations I had with myself the past few days. Now I have shared them. What kind of silent conversations do they stir up in you?

Alright, I will share one more thing. As I continually discover more and more of Jesus, I discover more and more about myself. As long as I continue tor ask, "Am I doing what he wants?" or "How can I remain strong and faithful?" I am seeking him and will continue to grow. When I ask instead, "Am I good enough?" the answer will always be a resounding "NO!" because I am now depending on myself alone, and not Him. I am looking at myself alone, and not at Him. Only He was, is, and will ever be enough. That is what he wanted me to discover, AGAIN. Only He is enough.

Are my thoughts filled with praise and thanksgiving? No, not filled, but  praise and thanksgiving are often there. Is His praise continually in my mouth? No, not continually, but it is often there. In spite of all my failures, questions and doubts, I know that I am coach-able and I am growing. I also know I am a member of the strongest, most winning team in the world. 

We're Number One.

I'm off to practice. See you there. Go Team Jesus.

Jan

???????On one of my proof-reads I noticed a mistake, but didn't correct it. Now I can't find it again. Where, oh where is it?