Scared Little Girl

There are very few times in my life that I remember being truly terrified. The first time it happened, I was just a nine-year-old little girl on an outing with her family. It was quite common for my parents, brothers, sister, grandparents, and me to hop into our cars, throw a picnic lunch in the back, and head into the desert somewhere. What was just "somewhere" to me was always a specific place to the adults. We kids just went along for the ride and some fun times.

This particular day we stopped for lunch at the base of some hills along the dirt road. To me, they weren't hills. They were MOUNTAINS that needed to be climbed.

(Before going any further with this story, let me add this little tidbit. This was in Nevada. There were no trees, ferns, salal, moss or anything resembling a hand-hold growing on the slope--nothing, nada, zip.There was just scree. In other words, the base of the hill was a pile of small, loose, jagged rocks that had broken off from above and slid down to the bottom.)

Because the scree made climbing extremely difficult, any progress up that MOUNTAIN was nearly impossible. I would crawl several feet up, then slide down a bit. Slowly, oh so slowly, I moved upward and onward until I felt like I was half way to the top of the world. I really wasn't that high, but I sure thought so, especially when I took time to sit down and look at my family way, way, down below me. At least I thought they were down there a long way.

I saw that some adults were visiting. My grandfather was checking the desert floor for pretty and unusual rocks while my brothers searched for horned toads. My little sister just toddled about. And me? I took it all in, and I got scared.  I could feel myself slipping slowly, oh so slowly, downward. As I tried to readjust my position, the rocks poked my hands really, really hard. I tried standing up without using my hands. I only slid more. Now, I no longer knew what to do. I fought back the tears that filled my eyes, and I slipped some more. "Big girls don't cry," I kept telling myself. In those moments, fear began filling me and my heart pounded. I knew I was going die. I was going to slide ALL the way down the gigantic MOUNTAIN. I was going to end up under a pile of very, very, sharp, pointy rocks, dead.

Then, as only a father can do, my dad headed for the base of the hill. Unbeknownst to me, he had been watching me climb. He had been watching me slip and my fear rise up. He knew I had reached a point that I needed help. As I fought the tears (this big girl won't cry) my dad made his way through the sharp, pointy rocks until he was by my side. He dried my tears (this big girl did cry) then scooped me up in his arms, and away we went. My hero-dad bravely slid and ran through the scree ALL the way down the huge MOUNTAIN (it wasn't really that far). Within seconds we arrived safely on the desert floor with the rest of the family.

Then, he put me down. I was no longer afraid, the tears were gone, and a smile was on my face.

To me, this is such a great example of the way the Lord has worked in my life. He is constantly watching my every move. Most of the time I'm not even aware of it. He knows when I am in situations that scare me. He knows when I have reached the point that I no longer know what to do. He knows when the tears come. And he know when to pick me up and carry me through the rocky situations. Then, when the tears are dried and the fear is gone, he sets me on my feet once more.

Living in God's goodness and care with a smile on my face,
Jan

Discover Jesus Moment #10

Care to join me on an adventure? It started last night and resulted in my Discover Jesus Moment #10. I am attending a course at church that will deal with the shame, fears, and control issues that hide who we really are (plus much more, including spiritual warfare). Many of these issues come from our ancestry and upbringing. If this course had been offered ten years ago, I would have laughed and thought, "what a lot of baloney." But, after the events of the past few years, I know that the ways I have dealt with, or not dealt with, my husband's behavior are directly related to my learned behavior which came from my parents' learned behavior which came from their parents'... I think you get the picture.

Last night, after an overview and explanation of what we would be doing over the next few weeks, we spent some time on forgiveness: forgiving others, asking God's forgiveness, and forgiving myself. We were instructed to sit quietly before God and listen, then list the names the persons we needed to forgive AND what we needed to forgive them for. We were also told to be ready for revelation as we waited on the Lord.

Of course, the first person on my list was my husband. I have told God many times that I forgive my husband, but this is the first time I have really had to think about specifics instead of generalities. "Lord, I forgive my husband for molesting the girls," wasn't going to cut it anymore. I had to go through a process of breaking down a huge event into smaller pieces. It didn't take long to realize that this was going to take a lot longer than the twenty minutes we had last night.

Under my husband's name I wrote, "breaking his granddaughters' trust." This was quickly followed by," lying to me," and "breaking my trust". That is all the further I got because as I wrote down, "making me extremely angry," I realized that my anger is not something I needed to forgive my husband for. My anger, in and of itself, is not a sin, but when I let it continue on and on and on, I have to confess it to God as well as ask his forgiveness.

Since this was getting a little too personal, I decided to add others to my "List of 1". In a matter of seconds, my list contained a total of three names, I now had to determine specifically what I needed to forgive these new people for. In each case, as I started to write down what they had done to me, I realized they had really done nothing at all. My hard feelings and resentments were the results of my judgmental perceptions and my resulting reactions. Ooops. There, staring me in the face, was Discover Jesus Moment #10.  I had never thought of myself as being either judgmental or reactionary, but I was. He had just revealed part of me I was neither expecting nor knew the existence of. It wasn't pretty.

In a matter of minutes, my time of forgiving others had turned into a time of asking God's forgiveness. What had started with finger pointing and blame because someone hurt and betrayed me had been turned into a time of introspection and confession, of asking God's forgiveness for the pain I had caused him, of forgiving myself for the additional pain I has caused my already hurting ego. The tables had been turned.

As I debated whether or not to share any of this new adventure which will probably become very personal, I decided that, yes, I should. I have tried, through my blogs, to  be as open as possible about my strugglel.. I know I am not the only one in the world who has faced difficulties and has had to trust the Lord in all things, even though it was/is hard at times. I want Christians, as well as non-Christians, to know that they aren't alone in their pain. I want them to know that their doubts, angers, loneliness, and fears are not only real, but also understood by God, and that He wants to walk them through the valley of the shadow of death into light and health. .

That being the case, I feel it is important to invite others along on this new leg of my journey. I will continue being as open as I can. As of today, we now all know I have a judgmental streak in me, I hate to admit it, but it is there and it has to be dealt with. I have a feeling these next weeks will be much more important to my growth than any of the past five years have been.

So, hop on board. Let's discover our true identity in Christ, not who we think we are.
Jan

Just Wondering

Just wondering something right now. If my desire is to do all things as unto the Lord, why am I procrastinating going into town to have the lawn mower battery checked? Shouldn't I have been up at the crack of dawn and excited to get that new battery so I could mow this wonderful place the Lord gave me?

If my desire is to be the best steward of what I have been given, why in the world is my couch covered with clothes to be folded and my floor littered with the Smithsonian magazine and last night's newspaper? Shouldn't those clothes I've been blessed with be folded and placed lovingly in the drawers and closets where they belong? Shouldn't my living room be dusted, vacuumed and picked up? After all, I see my home as my sanctuary, just God and me, but it is a tad messy right now.

If I truly believe my body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, why do I not exercise? Why is it noon already and I still haven't brushed my teeth or combed my hair? Shouldn't I present myself as a living sacrifice without blelmish each and every morning? If I were judged merely by outward appearances, I would be rejected at first glance--nothing perfect and without blemish here.

There I go again, piling guilt upon myself because of the enemy's lies. Yes,I know that no matter how hard I might try, I will never achieve perfection in this life. And yes, there are definitely changes I can and need to make. This vase called Jan is still being molded. But, NO, as I blogged last week, I will not push the replay button of my short comings and faults. Instead I will once again confess them, and stand on the promises God has made. I will re-pray and not replay.

I am his child. He loves me. He has a plan for my life. He gives me spiritual  gifts and talents to accomplish the work he has given me. He blesses me with all things. He is my Healer. He is my Comforter. He is my Redeemer. He is the Mighty Warrior... He is my All in All.

Ok. I am ready to make myself presentable and drive to town. Look out world; here I come. Goodbye procrastination. Hello Battery Place. Do I fold my clothes now or after I get back?

Just wondering,
Jan

Bones, Bones, Bones

It was the summer before 4th grade that our family moved from the only community I had ever known.  I was probably around eleven years old at the time. So instead of living in a small farming community anymore, we now lived in a dusty, old, Nevada, mining town. The almost-ghost-town, in the middle of nowhere, was situated in a fairly steep valley with the downtown area at the bottom and the houses perched on the hillsides. It was a fun place for us four kids to experience adventures and exploits.

Our small home was almost at the top of the hill, not the whole hill, just the part that had houses built on it. The only thing higher, as I remember it, was the school. Every Monday through Friday, my two brothers, sister and I would scramble up the steep hillside from our back yard, run across the dirt road, and there we were, at school.

After school and on weekends I loved carefully climbing down the steep embankment at the edge of the dirt road that ran in front of our house. Scooting around in the ageless dirt, dust and rocks while hanging onto sagebrush, I searched for treasures. And treasures I found, treasures by the shoe-box full.! Bones, wonderful bones. I found letter "O" bones, just like donuts. I found bones shaped like "T"s. I also found narrow skinny bones, and many more. If there was a bone to be found, I would find it. Knowing our town was very old fueled my imagination about those relics. I was smart enough to know I wouldn't be able to recreate an old miner (I hadn't found a pickax) or Paiute warrior, but I was fairly certain that in a year or two of continual searching and collecting, I could certainly recreate a dinosaur.

I have to smile at those wonderful,childhood days of naivete. Sadly, we moved back to my home town before I got to complete my hillside dig. Whatever happened to my treasures I'll never know. They mysteriously disappeared during the move. I suspect my parents had something to do with the loss. They had no idea the value of my artifacts, or the loss to science its disappearance caused .

I smile at the memories, but I laugh out loud trying to imagine what my reconstructed cow-pig-chicken thingy would have looked like. What in the world could I have created? Now that is not only a huge loss to the scientific community, but also a huge loss for Dr. Seuss.

Being blessed by the childhood memories,
Jan

The Prodigal Son

I don't know how many years ago it was that my husband and I were sitting at the Anchorage, Alaska airline terminal-- probably ten or so. Since it was during the summer and finally dark, it must have been around 11 p.m. Although the waiting room was filled with people waiting for either incoming and outgoing flights, my attention was focused on a woman accompanied by two teenagers, a boy and girl. At first, I assumed she was the mother of the kids, but as I continued watching, soon decided the kids weren't siblings--too touchy-feely for that. Whether she was the mother or not, I couldn't determine. What I did determine, though, was they were waiting for an incoming flight.

Each time the doors from the ramp opened and people began entering the terminal, the women would move her head back and forth trying to get a better view of those coming up the ramp. She would stand on tiptoe to look over heads, then duck down to look under arms of those blocking her view. She was in a bob and weave mode as her excitement mounted. Then, as the last passenger had cleared the doorway, I'd watched disappointment move across her face. Not this flight, maybe the next one.

I wondered who she was waiting for, who was so special to her. Parents maybe, or husband? Child or best friend? As time passed, her anticipation and excitement increased. Finally, as the last few people disembarked from one particular flight, a shriek escaped her lips and her face lit up from ear to ear. The teenagers hugged each other and kissed. I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to turn around for a peek. It didn't take long for my peek to become a long look. Coming up the ramp was a tall, good looking, graying uniformed soldier. He wasn't a son/brother. This was husband/dad. She rushed into his arms. Oh, the joy, the hugs, and the kisses that followed. The teenage girl joined the celebration, then the men shook hands and slapped backs. I think everyone in the waiting room secretly celebrated with a happy family whom none of us knew. Hubby/dad was safely home.

On our flight back to Seattle I kept thinking about what had happened in that Anchorage airport. All the anticipation, the watching, the disappointment, the excitement, and the celebrating that the wife had gone through had given me a personal glimpse into the parable of the Prodigal Son. I could now picture more vividly the Father watching and waiting for his child to return, letting nothing disrupt his view. Then, there the lad came, back from the pig sties of the world! I could more easily imagine the father running to his son. Oh the hugs, the kisses and the celebration that followed. The beloved son was safely home.

The airport reunion added much joy to my flight home. The peek into the Prodigal Son parable totally blessed me. But I can't even begin to imagine what the reunion of our heavenly father, the one who knows only perfect love, really has with his errant children. It is beyond human comprehension. All I can say is, "Wow!"

Have a great rest of your day,
Jan

Springtime and Slugs

I'm at McDonald's this morning. I just finished my Sausage McMuffin with egg, no cheese, and orange juice. I have checked face book as well as my email. Now I am ready to start writing.  Hopefully I will get this blog written before I have to leave for Bible study. That is iffy though since, as usual, I don't know what I will write. Besides, it takes me forever to get the wording just the way I want it.

The sun is shining again today, that makes seven consecutive days. That is nice.  It lifts my spirits, but keeps me in the house. I have a skin sensitivity to  sunshine that causes me to break out in a rash when exposed more than an hour. It takes weeks for the redness and itching to go away. I guess that explains my love of the Pacific Northwest's clouds and rain.

Springtime is a good topic for discussion on this sunny day. Many of the early flowers have now withered away. I am always sad to see the daffodils go, but their splash of color has been replaced by dandelions bursting forth in all their yellow glory. Some of my rhodies are beginning to bloom. Others are still forming buds. My lilacs haven't done much yet. There has got to be bud-forming activity someplace in their bushiness. The lawn is growing higher every day, and is now littered with all sorts of petals that have fallen from the magnolia, plum, and ornamental cherry trees.

And the birds! Bold crows are bullying the smaller birds as they all search for nesting materials. The robins bob for worms. The hummingbirds daintily sip nectar, Overhead, the eagles and hawks gracefully soar as they prepare for another season of birdlet rearing. Tying all this activity together is the chorus of chirps, tweets, and caws. In the midst of the avian music is the chirr of a squirrel from the top of a fir.

Spring with its delicate beauty and new growth has definitely arrived. So has its enemies. The slugs are beginning to emerge from their winter hideouts,sliming their way around my front steps and sneaking up my planter boxes in the wee hours of the day, but that is the way the enemy is, sneaky. It seem when all is quiet and seemingly dormant the destroyer sleeps. At the first sign of new life he silently, sneakily attacks. At least that is how it looks.

In my faith walk, that is also how it feels. After going through an extremely cold spiritual-winter, it was wonderful to finally experiencing the beauty of a spiritual-springtime. I felt  new warmth in my heart and new life arising.  The enemy began rising up, too. He wants nothing more than to strip away, blemish, or destroy the new work God has begun. Thankfully, my Master Gardener supplies the slug bait--the power of his word, and the answered prayers.

Fighting slugs with the best defense ever,,

Jan

A Stream of Worship

I have been thinking off and on today about a sermon several years ago that really made me stop and think, then go "Wow!" So lets talk about worship, shall we?

Most of my life, church was a place in which to sing hymns and hear sermons. As I looked back on those years, the good old hymns were quite varied as to themes and purpose. I remembered the ones about God and Jesus that had nice words and told a story.  In the Garden  told about walking in the garden early in the morning and talking with God. The Old Rugged Cross was the Good Friday standby. Then there were Jesus Loves the Little Children and Onward Christian Soldiers sung with great gusto and volume. I loved them all.

There were also those hymns about praising God and encouraging others to join in. These included Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, Praise God From Whom all Blessings Flow, and It is Well With My Soul. These, too, I loved.

Some hymns were just between the worshiper and God, songs that tell of our needs and desires. Take My Life and Let It Be, Amazing Grace, and I Need Thee Every Hour for example. Finally came the hymns of corporate praise. These were sung  neither about God not about my relationship with God. They proclaimed the glory of the most high God. These include All Glory, Laud and Honor, How Great Thou Art, and Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee. It was many years before my singing of great hymns was no longer "words", but true, heart-felt worship..

Christian music has changed so much over the years. I feel there are more songs praising God for who he is than songs about him. I like that, but some of the oldies like Amazing Grace can't be beat.

Worship teams with guitars, keyboards, and drums have taken the place of pipe organs and choirs in many churches today. Sadly, people still complain about music and styles they don't like. That is nothing new. Even Martin Luther was severely criticized about his music.

The heart of the musician has not changed though. Life's trials, sorrows, needs, joys, and celebrations go just as deep today as they did hundreds of years ago. They are only being expressed through different forms of music these days.  But the most important thing that has not and will not change is God himself. His Spirit still moves in the hearts of the composers and those who sing the songs.

Anyway, with all that being said, here is what has kept my mind busy today. Praise and worship is not something that begins with the music in church on Sunday. Likewise, I am not starting worship when I proclaim the wonder of the Lord in the quiet of my home because:

"In the center, around the throne were four living creatures...Day and night they never stop saying: 'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come." 

Revelation 4:6b, 8b

Said by the 24 elders seated around the throne,

"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory, and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being." 

Revelation 4:11

After the Lamb of God is found worthy to open the scroll and break the seven seals, John wrote,

"Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. In a loud voice they sang: 'Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise!' Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea and all that is in them singing: 'To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever! The four living creatures said, 'Amen,' and the elders fell down and worshiped!"

Revelation 5:11-14

Even more exciting is this. It isn't merely the heavenly hosts and created beings who have the capacity to praise God.

"the mountain and hills will burst into song before you 

and all the trees of the field will clap their hands." 

Isaiah 55:12b 

It is almost more that I can wrap my brain around.

This is how I see it. It's like tuning into a 24 hour Christian radio station that has been broadcasting day and night, but I have not been listening. When I turn my radio on, the station DJ doesn't suddenly wake up and play some music for me.  I do not start anything.  I only step into that stream of broadcast music which has been on the air for hours on end.

So, when I decide to worship with rejoicing or whatever else is on my heart, I am not starting anything. I am joining the worship of the 4 living creatures, the 24 elders, myriad angels, and all the created creatures who have be worshiping the Almighty since the beginning of time. My song will join not only theirs, but also those of the redeemed around the world. Then add, as well, that of the mountains and the hills. What a glorious sound that must be.

And my clapping, which I love to do? It is right there joining the rhythm of the cottonwoods, firs, and the baobab trees. Gotta love the percussion section.

Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord all the earth.

Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day... 

Worship the Lord in the splendor of his holiness;

tremble before him, all the earth.

Psalm 96:1,2,9

Having a new understanding of "streaming" worship,

Jan

Replay or Re-pray

The other night I had the opportunity to share my testimony with a small group of women. This was their last session on Proverbs 31. The lesson, Excellence--Realizing Your Potential, dealt with those things that prevent us from becoming the women God intends us to be.

As I prepared, I went over my notes from last year when I shared during this same study. I was surprised as I discovered the changes in me as well as the new insights I received . But the biggest surprise came while I was sharing. I found myself getting choked up! That is something I have never done before. And it felt good.

As I have shared several times in previous blogs, I don't wear my heart on my sleeve. My emotions are usually hiding somewhere. Don't ask me where somewhere is. I'm not sure. But when I have observed women becoming teary or blubbery when sharing their testimonies or areas of concern, I have wondered what it would be like to feel so deeply. I have often wished I was wired that way, but believed I was just an unemotional female without any real feelings. That was the way God made me.

That is a lie. God did not make me without emotions. As a child, I had just learned to hide them because that was the way my family dealt with their emotions. I had learned well.

When we believe Satan's lies like I did, we fail to achieve our God-given potential, and the enemy celebrates. Well, Satan, I am not unemotional. I am not devoid of real feelings. I am a child of God, created in his image to love and be loved. So take your lies and go home.

I don't know what lies the enemy has led you to believe, but here are some of the ones I believed over the years. Let me add this disclaimer. The lies I believed concerned me and what the Lord had in store for me. Your journey is different, so the enemy will tell you different lies.

As A Teenager

• Because I am skinny, have fine, straight. common hair, an "eagle beak" for a nose, glasses, and no real talent, I have nothing of worth to offer anyone. Besides that, who would want me for a wife?  Lies, all lies!

I did have much to offer, but hadn't yet discovered what it was. Or maybe I should say I have much to offer, but it keeps changing from season to season. The Lord is full of surprises. And the marriage lie? I have been married almost forty-nine years.

As A Young Married

• I can't serve the Lord. I have a family to care for. How can I enter the mission field with a husband and three small children underfoot? Lies, all lies!

I did have a mission field--my three kids. They were the hungry that needed to be fed, the thirsty who need drink, and the naked that needed to be clothed. They were the ones who needed to hear the good news of God's amazing love. They were the ones... Once I realized that, I tried being the best mom I could be so I might be the best missionary for the Lord I could be.

As A Mom of School-agers

• I should be working outside the home, earning money for exciting vacations and other fun things. We should be going to Disneyland every few years instead of having picnics and camping trips. Besides, my kids really don't need me at home all the time. They need to become independent. Lies, all lies!

So many of the memories I have of those early day involved the times after school. The kids calling out "Mom!" as they walked in the door, our conversations about the fun, the funny, and the traumatic, the snacks, and the homework are all memories I wouldn't trade for the money I might have earned. I wouldn't trade the camping trips and picnics either. I am thankful we were able to live on my husbands salary and benefits, but to do so meant we would have to do without many "things". For my family, home is where I belonged, but I often struggled with a sense of guilt that came with the enemy's lie whispered into my ear, "You should be earning money." For many others, though, it is absolutely critical that mom works.

As A "Writer"

•  Ideas that just pop into my head from out of the blue and are fun to put into words mean nothing to anyone but me. No matter what others say, the idea of publishing anything is complete nonsense. Lies, all lies.

More and more often I am getting encouragement, affirmation, and thanks for what I write. Women I have know over the years have told me they still read copies of the devotions I led at events they attended. Friends have shared this blog address with others. I've been asked to retell stories I have previously shared. I know that writing something for publication is very possible. Whether it will be a devotional book or my story of survival as a wife of a convicted felon, it will take lots of work and prayer. But I am being encouraged to write.

For a long time, I didn't even recognize the following lies for what they were. I'm sure there are still more lying around unrecognized for what they are. These are presented without comment.

As A Woman Struggling for Survival

• I'm too old to take this trauma.
• I'm too old to handle my house alone.
• Since the ministries I have been involved in and loved have been taken away, the Lord must be done with me.
• I need to run away and be alone FOREVER.
• People are uncomfortable around me.
• Everyone is talking about me.
• My kids and their spouses will blame me.
• My husband killed me emotionally.
• I'd be better off dead.

So now, if believing the enemy's lies keeps me from becoming the woman God created me to be, how do I fight them? I replace them with God's truths. Here are three verses that helped hold me together.

 

A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.

Isaiah 42:3

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3:31 

We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.

2 Corinthians 10:5

One thing I discovered was that Satan encouraged me to push the replay button at every possible opportunity, especially in the quiet moments after I turned off the lights, pulled my covers up around my neck, and snuggled into bed. My mind wanted to go over and over every possible thing. It wouldn't take long for even the most impossible scenarios to become very distinct possibles. It took many months before I learned not to push the REPLAY button, but push the RE-PRAY button instead. 

I still listen occasionally to some lies, especially this one, "Who do you think you are to believe you have anything of value for God to use? Aren't you being a bit presumptuous?" Actually, it is unbelievably presumptuous of me to believe that God cannot use the story he has given me to tell, that he can't use the kingdom illustrations that arise from the world around me and the people who live in it. All the thoughts that pop into my mind are not out-of-the-blue-crazy-ideas. So many of them, I discover while I write, are from him.

Thankfully, I am still in the process of discovering my potential. If I want to live in excellence as a woman of God, I need to daily re-pray God's truths and keep my finger off the replay button of Satan's lies.

Jan

The Magnolia and The Hummingbird

I was looking out my glass front door this morning and enjoying the colors of spring. I have purple heather blooming as well as blue grape hyacinths, yellow daffodils, yellow and purple primroses, yellow dandelions, and a magnolia tree full of magenta flowers and buds. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of motion. The tiny, darting hummingbird was easy to spot as it buzzed around the flowerbeds looking for a tasty sip of nectar. It didn't stop at any of the flowers, but zipped instead to the large tulip-like flowers of the tree. Most of them are still buds with no visible means of access. It tried. The ones that were just opening were too deep for a successful sip. And the ones that had fully opened had only a petal or two remaining, but no sign of  liquid. After buzzing and darting around a dozen or so flowers, it flew off to find its nourishment in a better place. Though beautiful, the magnolia failed to meet the hummingbirds expectations.

Overlooking the fact that magnolias are not made to product nectar for hummingbirds nor are they shaped right, I thought "Hmmm, That little bird came looking for nourishment, sought it in the most promising flower around, and went away with nothing."

Almost immediately the scripture came to mind that says "Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have." 1 Peter 3:15  As I pondered the verse, this is what I wondered .

When our light is truly shining, and our hope is clearly visible, people who are looking for hope are often attracted to us, just like the hummingbird was attracted to the magenta flowers on my tree. They will start seemingly innocent conversations, ask off-the-cuff questions, or hover close by waiting to be noticed. They want to know the reason for our hope. Will they find what they are looking for, asking for, thirsting for, or will we, like the tree, send them off with nothing but disappointment, discouragement, and soul parching thirst?  

"Lord, please don't let me be like my magnolia tree, presenting only beautiful flowers. Let me instead represent the hope of an empty wooden cross, and introduce them to the tree of life. Amen"

I'm looking forward to a totally enriching, renewing Sabbath. I pray the same for you.

Jan

Watching The Spirit Move

I was so blessed last night through a gathering of women at church. All but a handful had been at a retreat several weeks ago where the Spirit was very busy touching hearts and moving women toward a deeper walk with Him. I wished I had gone, but the Lord wanted me at a Passover Seder in Tacoma that same weekend. I am certainly glad I attended. I was blessed there instead . So, until I can be two places at once, I will have to receive God's blessings one place at a time.

If I could be two places at once, I would probably want three.

After a supper of wonderful soups and delicious desserts, the agenda-less sharing started. From testimonies of breaking generational strongholds to admissions of believing the enemy's lies as truth,  we were led.  It was wonderful to hear how God worked in each woman's life. We also heard stories of the retreat worship service which lifted the women into the throne room of the Most High. We heard their desires for our own congregational worship. Woman after woman shared as the Spirit led. Amazingly, the Spirit confirmed one person's unspoken visions through another's unsolicited testimony. God is good.

As the evening drew to a close with a time of prayer, the consensus was we needed to do this more often, to share our struggles, our battles, desires, blessings, and prayer in a safe place--a gathering as God's daughters. We are a mighty sisterhood of blessed women who needs to build each other up as well as help one another replace the enemies lies with God's truths.

I feel God is up to something big, something that will blow us away. I think it involves not only each of us individually, but also the church as a whole. I'm not speaking about my specific congregation only. I mean the body of Christ.  I have no idea what it will be, only God knows that. But this I do know, these are such exciting times in which to live .

For me personally, over the last five years I have been praying that God will take my life shaking experiences and use them some way to minister to others. I also didn't want to miss his leading--whatever it might be. At this point, because of a series of crazy events, I believe God is now moving me in that direction. I don't know where that direction leads, but I am preparing for the journey. Yes, these are certainly exciting times in which to live.

Getting my traveling shoes on. Care to join me?
Jan

War of Love

Before rolling out of bed this morning, an ad on the radio caught my attention. "Men, if you want to win the War of Love, you have to bring out the big guns. That is what it takes to win the battle." The local jeweler continued talking about the wonderful diamond rings, necklaces and earrings in his store's war chest at the mall. Whatever you thought was necessary to win her over in the War of Love, he had it. Come on in and buy some bling for your lady.

Those kind of ads, turn my stomach.  I'm not sure what they says about a relationship. If all it takes to win the battle for her heart is a gold necklace with diamonds, how deep are her emotions for you? Sounds pretty shallow to me.  Let me add, though, that a gift as a sign of love is very nice and thoughtful. I'm just not a jewelry person and would probably question the underlying motives. But that is just me and where I am at this point in my life. I still have trust issues.

Anyway, the news droned on in the background while I thought about love, true love, trusting love, eternal love, love with no strings attached, AGAPE love. GOD'S LOVE. What did he use to win the War of Love? What was God's big gun if he had or needed one? It certainly wasn't diamonds, rubies, emeralds, or any other precious jewels. Neither did he use platinum, silver or gold. No pendant, brooch, earring,or bracelet came wrapped up in a little box with a beautiful bow on top.

God's big gun came wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger, but left wrapped in a grave cloth and lying in a tomb. Witnesses to the battle had their minds filled with the unforgettable sights and sounds of hammers and nails, blood and crown of thorns, soldiers and crowds, dark sky and rough-hewn crosses, the words "it is finished" followed by a terrifying earthquake. That battle in the War of Love was considered over, but it wasn't. It was over only when the stone cold body that had been sealed up in a tomb, rose from that grave, leaving behind a bloodied grave cloth. That is how God win the war--with the gruesome death and glorious resurrection of the big gun, Jesus Christ, his only son.

It is unfathomable that his love for me, for you, for the world is so great that he would do that.

God won the War of Love. Sorry, Satan, you lost.

Living with the victor and in his love. How awesome is that?
Jan

Discover Jesus Moment #9

I've been debating all day whether or not to write about the dream I had this morning. I have finally decided I would. The first reason is that I truly believe there are evil minions that love nothing better than interfering with a Christian's life. In other words, I believe Satan is alive and well. I also know his power is nothing compared with the power of the almighty God who created the universe with the mere sound of his voice, and raised Jesus from the dead. My second reason is that it led to my Discover Jesus Moment.

As I shared yesterday, I have been having trouble sleeping this past week. As a result, I am extremely tired and have done close to nothing for days on end. After writing that blog, I recalled a conversation I had with my sister years ago when I was having a similar problem. She suggested that before going to bed I pray for my room to be surrounded by warrior angels so the enemy couldn't mess with my sleep. So I did. I even prayed that they scout out my closets and under my bed for anything that might go bump in the night. It helped.

By the time I went to bed last night, 11:45, and after completely forgetting the previously recalled conversation with my sister, I finished my usual bedtime routine, turned off the light, climbed into bed, pulled up the covers, put on my CPAP mask (yes, I have sleep apnea), and settled in for what I hoped would be a good night's sleep.

I started off on my left side, then my back, then my right side. By one a.m. I was on my left side again. Two o'clock came and went. Sleep finally came sometime after that.  I woke up at 3:30 and had to make a potty stop before going back to sleep. Then came the dream.

I was sleeping in my cozy bed when I heard the sound of singing coming from the living room. It was sort of like a kids choir. I was soon aware of someone in the room pushing back the sheer curtains that cover the French doors in my room. I had the feeling that the someone was male and he was letting someone else into the room. Soon the room was filled with wind swirling around and around like a mini tornado. The sound of the wind grew louder and louder until it was almost deafening. As one of the figures started coming toward the bed, I sat up and started shouting at the top of my lungs, "In the name of Jesus leave this house and return to the pit you came from. You have no power over the blood of the Lamb, the Lord of my life. In the name of Jesus get out." I remember screaming this several times. 

Then I woke up. The dream had been very intense, but I did not wake up frightened. I will admit I was concerned, but not scared. I stayed in bed awhile, then got my Bible and started reading it aloud. In fact, I read all of 1 Corinthians. I then prayed aloud like I had prayed in my dream plus some.  Thus began my day that ended with my Discover Jesus Moment.

It came in the most wonderful, yet unusual way. My oldest granddaughter came over this evening for some help with her English assignment. When she had finished, we started talking like we usually do. For some unknown reason, at least unknown at the time, I told her about my dream and about reading 1 Corinthians out loud, and praying over the room. We were just finishing our conversation when her mother came to pick her up.

As I was retelling the story for my daughter, my granddaughter asked if I had a Bible handy. I did. It was still on my bed from this morning. So off she went to my bedroom. Five minutes later she returned with Bible in hand and shared a verse the Lord had told her to pray over the room. Guess what? It was from 1 Corinthians. Chapter four-verse twenty to be exact. "The kingdom of God is not a matter of talk, but of power."

"That's what God wants us to pray, Nana," she told me.

Out of all the verses in the Bible, that was an interesting one to choose I thought as I began writing this blog.

Just a few minutes ago she called to tell me the rest of the story. As her mother and I were talking, and I mentioned reading 1 Corinthians, the Lord told her to get a Bible and read from chapter 4.  It wasn't until she reached the very end of the chapter that verse 20 jumped off the page. "The kingdom of God is not a matter of talk, but of power." She proceeded to look at other verses elsewhere, but each time got a "No" from God. She then spent five minutes praying over my room. She went straight to the throne room with her righteous anger. She prayed the scripture and she prayed in tongues.

As she ended our phone call, she said, "Nana, I just had to let you know it's gone, and that no one messes with my Nana!"

So tonight I discovered Jesus in a sixteen year old girl who loves both him and me. I'm blessed.

"Thank you for this child, Lord. Bless her. May she continue listening to your voice and obeying you. Amen"

Sleep well, I will.
Jan aka Nana
 

My Weird Week

Wednesday, April 4, 2013

I wish I could say this has been a great week. Well, I could say it, but it just doesn't seem that way. It has been a sort of crazy week, actually. I had wanted to mow the yard, but couldn't do that because I couldn't start the mower. It turned over, but didn't catch. That was all it did, turn over. I checked the gas. It was fine. I wasn't. I wanted to mow. If I were a little younger, well, quite a bit younger, I would have thrown myself on the ground, pounded it with my fists, and screamed, "I WANT TO MOW!"

It is in frustrating times like this that I get angry at my husband all over again. Why isn't he around when I need help? Now I will have to wait until who know when. Oh well, that's the way it goes.

What started out with the frustration of wanting to mow and unable to do so ended up with getting my garage partially cleaned out. At least my passengers can now get in and out of the car with ease  while the car is parked in the garage. It felt good to get something accomplished even if it wasn't mowing. That was Monday.

Then came Tuesday. My plan originally had been to finish up the mowing I had started on Monday, so I decided to try starting the mower again. It worked. It fired right up. I was ecstatic. I drove out of the garage into the driveway, and was just starting to sing a little mowing jingle when it died, quit, gave up the ghost. I put it in neutral, turned the key. There was nothing but silence. It didn't respond at all. I tried again, and again, and again. No luck. I guess it had had just enough juice in the battery to run for a few seconds before dying. That was a bummer. Now I had to huff and puff, push and shove to get the dead mower back into the garage because it was starting to sprinkle.

I wanted to get some type of work done outside, so decided to at least use the weed eater for a few minutes before the real rain came. I trimmed in front of the garage, around the plum tree by the barn and...it die (not the tree, the weed eater). I guess I should have plugged it in the day before trying to use it. Oh well, that's the way it goes.

Wednesday, great Bible study, bought some groceries in the pouring rain, but I didn't feel very well. Just tired. Not sleepy, just tired. It seems that no matter what time I go to bed, be it 10, midnight, or anywhere in between, I don't fall asleep until at least one AM. Then I wake up at 6:30. No matter how hard I try, I can't fall asleep again. Finally around 7:30 I get up. Five and one-half hours of sleep per night just doesn't cut it. I've tried napping, but sleep doesn't come. I just lie there with my eyes closed, resting for an hour or so. It doesn't help. I can't like it at all.

Monday, April 8th--picking up where I left off.

Thursday, I went to my son's house for an all day ladies' event. Most of the women were working on photo albums. I took my laptop to re-enter things I had lost when my previous laptop crashed last summer. I'm thankful I had hard copies of many things I had written, but sadly, I lost quite a bit. This time I am saving to a memory stick.

The morning passed, so did lunch, then came the afternoon. I hadn't gotten much of anything done. I just couldn't concentrate. I was so tired. I ended up watching a painting project taking place in my grandson's room. Any Seahawk fan would love the finished product. I finally went home after dinner. It was raining very hard, still.

Friday I had family over for dinner. I fixed chicken enchiladas, green salad, and chocolate pudding. It was all delicious. To be perfectly honest, one of the reasons I had them all over was because I wanted the chocolate pudding. It is made with 2 cups chocolate chips, 1/4 cup sugar, 2 eggs, and pinch of salt. You put these in a blender, then add 1 1/2 cups scalding hot milk and blend for 1 minute. The pudding is then poured into small bowls and refrigerated for a couple hours. It was so good, in fact, that I had a second dish of it before I went to bed.

Saturday morning I was still tired, still not much sleep, and it was still raining. I topped off my breakfast of scrambled eggs with a bowl of pudding. Did I mention that I had made a double recipe? Soon after breakfast, things got weird. I started having PVCs. No, not poly-vinyl-chloride (plastic) pipe. Premature ventricular contractions. It feels like your heart is skipping beats, but it isn't. It will beat, then the next beat comes immediately after the first. There is then a long pause. It is like this: beat, rest, beat, rest, be-beat, r  e  s  t, beat, rest, beat, rest, be-beat, r  e  s  t, beat... When the two beats come close together, it is like a kerwham in your chest. I have had this condition for years and years. Medication keeps it under control. Saturday was the first time in years they have been this noticeable. They just wouldn't go away. They bugged me all day. They may not be life threatening, but I don't have to like them.

Then came the dawn. Not as in morning, but as in "a light went on in my little pea brain." I hopped on the computer and typed in the question, "Can chocolate cause PVCs?" Yep it sure can! So can coffee. Since I have coffee only 2-3 times a week, it has never bothered me. I found out, though, that a couple bowl of chocolate pudding a day will start the old ticker marching to the beat of a different drummer--one I didn't like. Problem solved.

I went to church Sunday. I considered staying home, wanted to stay home, almost convinced myself to stay home, but didn't. It was still pouring rain. I was still quite tired, but I went.There was a huge crowd--almost as many as Easter. That was great. The worship, as always, was uplifting, and the sermon provided food for thought and a small Discover Jesus Moment, a new way of seeing something old. Pastor is beginning a new series from 1 Corinthians. He said that our testimonies are our encounters with Jesus. We can have all the biblical education in the world, be able to read Hebrew and Greek, recite chapter and verse at will, but if we have never encountered Jesus up close and personal, we have only learning and no testimony. A new light was shed on what I already knew. That was good. I'm glad I went. Other than celebrating the Sabbath with wonderful people, today finished up like all the others, nothing much accomplished. But isn't that what the Sabbath is all about--worship, not work. I just wanted to sleep.

So another Monday has arrived. It hasn't rained today! Actually the rain last week hadn't been as bad as I had thought. We have had only 3.5 inches this month. That averages out to less than 1/2 inch a day. Those are practically drought conditions, not. I am still tired, but slept well last night. The PVCs have almost stopped. I've almost finished this inane blog. Who wants to know what my week had been like, anyway? The important thing is for me is to write. In order to do that, I need to take time to feel, to examine, to question, to discover, to vent, and try to understand.

So, there you have it, my weird week. Oh, the forecast for the coming week? Rain, chance of rain, showers, and wind with two track meets thrown in. Temperatures in the high 40s to low 50s. That includes next weekend, too. Some Discover Jesus Moments this week would be a great help. So far he hasn't spoken to me about building an ark. My mower may not work, but I do have a hammer, nails, saw and duct tape. I'm ready.

Besides, I need the reminder that God's blessings, like this rain, just keeps coming and coming and coming. "Thanks, Lord."

Have a great Discover Jesus week. I'm planning to.
Jan

Discover Jesus Moment #8

Now that I am nine months into this blog, I don't remember what I have shared and what I haven't. I guess I am going to have to print them out so I can flip through the pages instead of going on the computer. I really prefer paper to a screen.

Anyway, I don't remember if I ever shared about a granddaughter's school conference several years ago. Her math teacher said he really enjoyed having her in class because she listened with her eyes. I knew exactly what he was talking about. This little girls gives learning her full attention. Her eyes shine and her face lights up at the least little thing. She is truly a joy to be around. I can just imagine  her in a classroom.

The teacher's comments made me wonder this, "When the Lord is trying to teach me something, do I listen with my eyes and give him my full attention, or do I let my mind wander off somewhere until I have a blank look on my face and a far away stare in my eyes?" My prayer for awhile was, "Lord, help me listen with my eyes, giving you my full attention. Let me sit at you feet in awe of what you are telling me. Let me listen, let me see, let me learn,"

My Discover Jesus Moment today presented an entirely different meaning of listening with my eyes. Here it is.

What I heard Jesus say after today's Bible study was, "Listening with your eyes is not only about giving me your undivided attention during Bible study or Sunday sermons. It's not only about praising God while enjoying his creation or singing during worship. It's also about listening to the hearts and souls of those you see with your eye


I ended up asking myself this question. When I see people around me do I merely see their presence with my eyes, or do I also listen to their heartbreak, unspoken pain, and silent anguish? When I help a child in school do I merely see him with my eyes, or do I also listen to his inner joy over one small, almost insignificant victory? In other words, to listen with my eyes, I have to hear  Jesus. He could be the man at the mission saying, 'I am hungry, thirsty, naked, and in prison, please feed me, clothe me, give me drink, and visit me." He could be the mother at church saying, "I'm scared, sick, depressed, tired, and feeling hopeless, please pray for me and give me hope." He could be the child struggling in math who says, "My parents say I'm a stupid nobody. Please notice me and tell me I'm important."

Listening with my eyes is hearing the cry of Jesus in everyone I see.

Jan.

Rain Thoughts

One of the things I loved about  growing up in Nevada was the electrical storms. The sky would get dark, the lightning would coming straight out of the clouds, flashing a brilliant white as it sped toward the ground. The ear-splitting thunder would shake the house within seconds. And the rain would come down by the bucketful, soaking the dry earth.This didn't happen often (2 inches/year), but when it did I absolutely loved it.

I remember those good times standing on the porch with my dad and siblings as we kids counted the seconds between the flash and the KABOOM, then listened as the rumble faded away. I remember one day in particular.

"One-thousand-one, one-thousand-two...one-thousand-ten. Ten seconds, that was two miles away."

 "One-thousand-one, one-thousand-two. Wow, only two seconds on that one! It's getting real close."

Then came the blinding flash and almost instantaneous BOOM--too close for comfort. We headed inside, ears still ringing, only to discover the lightning strike had been close enough to burn out our electric stove and refrigerator. But I still loved lightning and thunder.

Upon moving to the Pacific Northwest many years later, I looked forward to the first rain storm. I didn't have to wait long. The sky darkened a little, the rain came down a little, the wind picked up a lot, and the lightning came not at all. The only noise I could hear was the splat, splat of the rain on the windows, the slight gurgle of water from the downspouts, and the wind blowing the tree branches every which way. I was more surprised than disappointed in that storm. I had no idea it could rain without the heavenly fireworks. What a concept!

I quickly learned many other things about the rain storms here. First, it can rain without a storm or even dark clouds. Light gray clouds can and do produce rain. It can also rain without clouds at all (well sort of). I have gotten sprinkled on when the sun was shining and the only visible cloud  was not even over head.

I also had no idea there was such a thing as sideways rain . It didn't take me long to learn that it almost always rains sideways around here. Umbrella or no, just plan on getting wet. BUT if the approaching clouds are black, look out. The buckets of rain are coming and probably some hail, too.

I've adjusted to this weather. I still miss the lightning, though, but love the drips, drizzles, showers, rains, the spates that make up our climate. I don't mind getting wet from the water that comes down sideways. Will it come from north, south, east or west?  Or maybe all four directions as once, who knows?  It just depends on how the wind blows. And the wind seems to always blow.

I guess that is why I was as so surprised a few hours ago when I looked out my kitchen window. The sky was overcast, but bright. It was raining quite hard, but gently. And, surprisingly, there was absolutely no wind.  It was raining straight down. What a concept.

I was almost as surprised at the straight-down rain today as I had been at the lightning-less rain thirty years ago.

Lightning and thunder always remind me of my mighty God--the one whose power calmed the storm for Jesus and also conquered the grave. Today's gentle, almost soundless rain reminded me of my loving God--the one who wraps me in his arms, cares for me, and tends to all my needs. There was a calmness and shalom about that brief, cleansing shower from above.

Thank you, Lord, for the wonders of your heavens and the gifts it brings. Amen.

Jan