Baffled, Yet Blessed

I'm Baffled  8/31/13

I am still at a loss for words. Last night, out of the blue, I received a generous financial gift from an anonymous donor! Why? I was told it was for projects I might have. What projects? There are always projects I think about, but that is all they ever are--just projects I think about. What is the Lord up to?

I wrote in a post last week that the Lord supplies all our needs, and often in abundance. Well, it seems that He has just moved something from my "want" list, to His "Jan Needs" list, then funded it abundantly.  But, what need is it?  That is what I kept asking myself and God as I went to bed last night, and that is what I am still asking myself this morning. What is the project, the dream, the "want" that the Lord desires me to complete or to have? I am baffled.

That God would provide in such a generous way is amazing. Even more amazing, though, is the way He did it, through unknown people who were moved to give with such generosity. I am blessed beyond words.

Lord, looking out my window at this early morning hour, the fog is beginning to lift as the sun comes up. What were once shapes of deer in my yard a while ago are slowly becoming the real thing. Well, that is sort of how my mind is right now, foggy with shapes of "things" in it. So, Lord, as your light clears out the fog, show me clearly what is it you want me to do--or even need me to do. Although I'm baffled, I am abundantly blessed. Thank you, Lord.

Jan

Berries or Bears?

Berries or Bears

This is a brief berry picking report. There were quite a few ripe berries available yesterday.That was a plus. I was attacked by thorns several times, but no blood was drawn. That was another plus. After picking only about only four cups worth, I observed several piles of bear dung beside me. So long berries, hello house. That definitely was not a plus.

Was it really bear dung? I don't know. From pictures on-line, I am fairly certain it was. I know it wasn't deer or elk. It wasn't cow or horse. It wasn't cougar, coyote or raccoon. That leaves bear.

I have never seen any of those fuzzy critters on my property, but there is no reason I would. They won't come close to the house unless they are starving and I have garbage available for them. Neither one is the case here. Yet, the idea that they are munching on the berries is enough to keep me away from the berry patch--at least for now. Although, if I rode the mower out there, the noise would scare anything away that might be enjoying a berry dessert--a dessert I want.

Since it is pouring rain right now (what else would it pour?) I will wait awhile before mounting my trusty, noisy mower and heading out for more berries. I really want enough for a large Blackberry Crisp--8 to 12 cups should do it. In the meantime, I will finish up some house chores before my grandson and his wife arrive this evening. Friday night, my son and his wife will also arrive. It will be fun having everyone here for a few days. Family time means good food, good conversation, fun games, and lots of laughs. Bring it on.

Lord, thank you the the blessing of family, grant everyone safe travel, and please keep the bears in the woods. I want more berries.

Or Lord, if you want, you could triple the ones I already have.

Jan

Berry Hunting

I really want to make a blackberry crisp for all my family that is arriving over the next few days. I can almost taste its succulence right now. There is a problem, though. The blackberries might not even be ripe yet. There are so many bushes growing over, under, and through everything within their reach that I should find enough purple, juicy ones to make at least a small dessert. That is what I am hoping anyway.

Picking berries isn't for the fainthearted. Right off the bat, I will have to put on battle gear. Old tennis shoes, a long sleeved work-shirt, and paint spattered jeans go on first, followed by gloves that I will shed after the first few minutes because it is almost impossible to pick berries with gloves on. Then I will have to trudge through the drizzle and wet grass to face the mountainous bushes. With my largest bowl in hand, I will then shout out, " Iiiiiiiieeee! Let the battle begin!"

The thorns on those long, thick canes are evil. They lash out and attack without warning. They grab sleeves, pant legs, and even hair, never missing the opportunity to draw blood. You would think that were enough, but no, there are the berries themselves, berries that turn everything they touch into colors of bruises: shades of red, blue, and purple. I am talking not only about hands and shirts here, but also about shoes, pants, lips, and chins. By the time I return to the safety of my kitchen, if  I will look like I have fought a horrific battle it is because I have. Even though I will carry the new wounds next to my old scars, I will have won the battle.

All that will be left is to dress the wounds, make the crisp, and enjoy the spoils with my family. Oh yes, I also have berry stains to get off my hands and face. If I fail, I will ready for Halloween.

Goin' hunting for berries that God so abundantly supplies,
Jan

Rolls

Making cinnamon rolls was something I loved doing when my kids were still at home. I enjoyed the kneading process as well as experiencing the yeasty smell of raising dough. I loved rolling the dough,slathering it with butter, cinnamon, and sugar, rolling it up, slicing it, putting the wonderful pinwheels of goodness into the pan, and letting them raise again. In my opinion, there is nothing more soothing, more inviting, more mouth watering than the aroma of cinnamon and bread filling the kitchen--especially on a cool, rainy day.

Then came the moment we had all been waiting for, the sampling. Warm, sweet rolls filled with cinnamon and sugar, dripping with a vanilla glaze, and topped with a pat of melting butter, oh my, pure goodness and calories.

I don't make rolls anymore, but sure will eat them. In fact, I will eat any kind of roll. Give me sweet rolls, crescent rolls, kaiser rolls, French rolls. I'll eat onion, poppy seed, cheese, and jalapeno rolls. If you bring it, serve it, or talk about it, I will want it.

I like rolls so much I refuse to buy them. I will not intentionally lead myself into temptation. But everyday, there are two rolls I cannot avoid no matter how hard I try. In fact, they are staring me in the face right now. One is just above my belt line, and the other is just below it. Maybe, if I removed my belt, I will only have one roll to deal with. Maybe.

Enjoying a 60 degree, drizzly, August day in the Pacific Northwest--oh for a warm cinnamon roll right now.

Jan

I Have, Thank You

I have been listening to Bibi the African Gray Parrot on my laptop while working around the house this morning. Talk about a demanding bird, wow! "I want a berry. I want cook fish. I want a tortilla. I want to step up. I want to see Greg." I want, I want, I want.

While chuckling to myself I suddenly thought, "Is that how I sometime sound to God." I want, I want, I want.

"But my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus."  Philippians 4:19

So, what do I need? I need shelter. Got that. I need food. Got that. I need clothing. Got that. God has supplied everything I need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus. None of this is because of anything I have done or believed. It is all about Him and His desire to give. And give, he does, out of his abundant riches in Christ.

Thankful for the "I haves"-- knowing God also gives me the "I wants" when they are the same as his,
Jan

Afternoon Siestas

There I laid, flat on my stomach on my bedroom floor, when I heard a cheery voice say," Hi, Mom, we're here."

"I'm in the bedroom," I whispered as quietly as I could and still be heard. I thought of saying something smart like, "I've fallen and I can't get up." I didn't because I hadn't. Instead, I was experiencing a face-to-face encounter with a beautiful, curious doe who was slowly approaching the window on my French doors.

If I had been standing up, she would have quickly recognized me as a human form and moved away from the house, taking her spotted twins with her. But all she could see in the window was my face at her eye level. What was I? As she slowly moved closer and closer, I held my breath. How close would she come? One fawn, equally curious, moved alongside her.

It wasn't long before the doe and fawn were staring in at three enchanted faces that were staring back. Within a few minutes the deer were only a few feet away, but their curiosity was finally satisfied. We seemed harmless, so they turned to more important matters such as munching on salal and freshly mowed grass. Then the deer slowly moved out of sight, but the magic remained.

After my daughter and son-in-law left, I looked out other windows to see if the family might still be around. They were. It was nap time for the little ones. While mom stood guard, the fawns slept in the shade of a large spruce tree. This was the second time in several days that their afternoon siesta was spent in my yard. I trust they slept well.

Lovin' God's creation,

Jan

Voices Cry Out

The Voices Cry Out

So many voices beckon.

So many voices call.

Urgent, pleading voices.

I plug my ears and do not move.

Do they cry for naught?

Louder and louder the volume grows,

"Pull my weeds.

Wash my panes,

Paint my boards."

My ears stay plugged. I still don't move.

They still cry out.

I desire to holler in return,

"I'm coming to tend your needs.

I'm coming to show you love!"

But, I do not move.

When will these voices stop?

When will these voices cease?

When will they no longer make demands?

.

Only when I open my ears.

and move,

and truly care,

 will they finally stop.

Sadly, today they once again cry out for naught.

I weep.

I sleep.

How Can God Edit if I Don't Write?

How does one go about writing a book? Don't ask me. I don't really know. If I were planning on creating a novel, I think I would have spend quite a bit of time developing both my plot and my characters. I would have to know who the people were, how they dressed, how they spoke and how they reacted to and interacted with others. I would have to create a location or two for my story--the sights, sounds, smells and personality. I can imagine an index file containing card after card of character traits for each person and place. Yes, that is what I would have to do.

I think writing something autobiographical would be different. I already know the plot.  I already know who the people in my story are. I know the places they have been and the things they have done. What I don't know is how to tell the story that I want to tell. Where do I even start? But even more important is figuring out how to start.

I could begin by telling  a story of happy family times and imaginative grand-kids.

The evening was magical. Our three-year-old granddaughters each wore a beautiful, sparkling, fairy costume complete with wings. First one, then the other, flew through the living room, held securely high overhead by Papa. Each girl's face glowed. She was no longer in the presence of mere mortals. She was truly a beautiful fairy flying over her magic kingdom. How my husband loved playing with those special little girls.

I would share this particular story because I think it would grab the readers' attention, make them smile, and create a desire to read more of my story.

I could also begin this way

Every cell in my body feared that my husband was molesting our granddaughters, but he insisted he would never do anything to harm those precious girls. I believed him, and I was wrong.

That should get the readers' attention. Then what? My story has pain, sorrow, emotional shutdown, fear, depression, anger, shock, and many therapy sessions. I want my reader to go through it with me, but that isn't the reason for telling my story. I want to tell about hope, love, provision, forgiveness, encouragement, discovery, and revelation. My story is about faith and living under the wings of an amazing God. That is what I want to tell.

How do I do that? I guess, like I do with all my posts on this blog, I just start writing.The Lord will help me arrange, rearrange, add, subtract, edit and re-edit as I go along.  But, how can God help if I don't start?

Getting started soon,
Jan.

School Days

School

Look, Dick. Look Jane.

 See Spot. See Puff. 

Run, Dick.

Run, Jane.

Run, run, run!

That is how I learned to read in first grade.

Then came my very important day--

reading with the second graders across the hall. 

There I came face to face with an unknown word.

SQUIRREL 

The picture on the page didn't help.

I didn't know how to sound it out. 

I finally just blurted  SKIRL.  

I was wrong.

I didn't even know what a squirrel was.

We didn't have those where I lived.

 I was so embarrassed,

but I loved school

One plus five equals six.

Three times two is six.

Six times an unknown number can be written 6x

The square root of thirty-six is six

Axioms, theorems, cosigns and tangents.

Areas, volumes, miles per hour and pounds per square inch.

Give me numbers any day.

I loved school

I loved

the waxy aroma of new crayons,

the sight of punched, lined notebook paper,

the feel of new text books and smell of the old,

the sounds of band practice,

and cleaning chalkboard erasers.

I loved school.

Excuse the nostalgia, but as students across the country head back to school these next weeks, I hope and pray that at least some of them go back with anticipation and excitement for what awaits them. I desire that these children will have their eyes opened to the wonders of the world around them, that they will explore, discover, question, and imagine.   

Just thinking about school brings to mind several stories of my grandchildren's early elementary days. A granddaughter was learning about the planets and their differences. Some were rocky. Others were gaseous. When her mother asked what the moon was like, she quickly informed Mom that the moon was not a planet, but it was soft. When my granddaughter was asked why she thought that, she quickly responded, "I saw a video of  men walking on the moon. They bounced."

My oldest grandson, now in the Air Force, wanted to be an astronaut when he grew up, but he didn't like to read. He didn't like sitting still for his reading group. My obvious question for him was, "How will you become an astronaut, if you don't learn to read?" His answer was simply, "I'll watch the video." Of course. Why didn't I think of that.

Another grandson just happened to have his dad as his first-grade teacher. At the end of one of the first days, the children were all gathered in a big circle on the carpet. My son, the teacher, asked the kids what they knew at the end of the day that they hadn't known when they came to school that morning. After a long moment of silence, my grandson, wanting to help his dad out, finally piped up, "Well, If I hadn't known it already, I would have learned..." He then proceeded to talk about the day's proceedings.

It is now early afternoon where I live. What do I know now that I didn't know when I got up this morning? What have I learned about the world from listening to the radio? What have I learned about birds from Bibi the Parrot, and a newly hatched ostrich chick? What have I learned about motion from watching the trees blow in the wind? What have I learned about color from watching the play of sunlight and shadow on the leaves of the plants outside my window? What have I learned about myself  from listening to my heart as I have been writing this post?  

What has God been trying to teach me since I got up this morning? 

Sitting at the feet of the greatest teacher there is and trying to take it all in.

Forever a student,

Jan

God, Let Me Tell You About My Day

What an interesting day this has been.  During the past three weeks I had been nowhere other than the grocery store and my kids' homes. I had talked to no one other than family members during that entire time. Well, I take that back. When the store checker-outers asked how my day was going, I am sure I replied, "Great!" When they asked if I needed help out with my groceries, I probably replied, "No thanks. I can get it."  Today was different. I talked to people!

I was meeting a friend for coffee, so went into town early to check out some new businesses around the corner from the coffee shop. The floral-gift shop was all I had time for before my scheduled coffee date. During the course of twenty minutes I checked out all the decor and all the gifts. Then I asked just a couple questions about this new location. My innocent question opened up a flood gate of conversation. As I showed genuine interested in the flowers, the arrangements, the business location, and business in general, the proprietor opened up with a lot of enthusiasm and eagerness to share. I had fun listening.

Coffee with my friend was a great time of catching up on our busy, often trying, lives. After a mixture of tears and laughter, we parted ways. My friend headed home and I headed to check out a couple more shops which included a craft shop and an antique mart. As with the floral shop, I spent quite a bit of time looking at everything there was to see. Before leaving each store, I ended up asking questions and listening to excitement-filled answers. I really felt that people were eager to talk and share about what they love the most, their businesses .

Two hours after my friend and I had left the coffee shop, I finally returned to my car. Not only was I full of new knowledge about the antique market in our area, I was also quite inspired and encouraged to start experimenting with water colors again. Feeling great from interacting with the complete strangers God placed in my path today was an added bonus.

As I drove home, I remembered a TV movie I watched several years ago on a Christian network. In it, a teenage girl sitting in a coffee shop meets a bearded young man dressed in blue jeans and sandals. During the course of an enjoyable conversation, he asks her about a specific class in school. The girl is surprised that he even knew about her class. As you can probably guess, the young man is the Christ figure in the story. As the movie progresses, the girl continues meeting with the bearded man and begins sharing her troubles with him. She also begins to fully understand who he is. At one point, she starts telling him something humorous that happened at school then abruptly stops and says something like this, "Oh, I'm sorry. You already know all about it." Jesus smiles and says, "Yes I know about it, but I love the sound of  your voice and the way you talk about it. I love hearing everything you have to say about what you do and how you feel."

The movie impacted me at the time because it made me realize how much God desires to hear my voice. He want to hear my heartbreak and tears as well as my joys and excitements. He just loves listening to my voice. Wow.

Then came today when complete strangers shared all sorts of stories with me. Was it because I wanted to listen? I don't know. But I do know this. God wants to listen to me. He is interested in every aspect of my life even when he already knows all about it. I truly believe he loves the sound of my voice and wants to listen to me talk about my day.

I think I need to be more like the shopkeepers I met today--eager to share what I love. In a way, this blog helps me do that. I find that writing helps me recognize God's ever-present hand in my life. My voice is only on paper, though, and that is okay. But how about this? Maybe I should try singing my posts. I'm pretty sure God likes music. Well, I think I should at least try talking to him aloud.

Hi, God, I had so much fun today. Let me tell you about it. There was this guy in the craft store... And my friend...

Jan.

Am I A Coed?

No one would ever call me impulsive--no one. My family will identify me as the one who goes shopping for clothes, walks around the aisles with a couple outfits in hand, then puts them back on the rack before leaving the store. My reasoning? I really don't need anything new. My ten year old skirt, blouse, or whatever still has a lot of wear in it. That is the way I typically operate.

Today must not be typical. I wasn't shopping. I was just looked at the catalog of fall courses at our community college. For some time now I have considered taking a writing class of some sort. I didn't know what kind, but something to improve what ability I have. Besides, I like school. (I was one of those kids who played school during the summer)

There, on the bottom half of a catalog page, was information for online courses. Interesting, I thought. Online means not having to drive in the rain and not having to find a parking spot. That is a plus. It also means no face-to-face interaction with profs or students. That is a negative. Either way, I wanted to check out the Beginning Writing course, so I logged on to the website. I learned about the professor. I read the six week syllabus. I considered the twice weekly assignments and final project. I thought taking quizzes and a final exam. I liked the challenges it would present, but is this something I needed to do?

As I have already said, I am not an impulsive person--usually. But today is different. I just signed up for six weeks of writing assignments that will give me tools I need to go forward. At least that is what I think will happen. I didn't pray about it. I didn't confer with anyone. I just did it. I am now a student.

Can I still be considered a coed at 70+?

Oh, Lord, please help me.

Jan

Co-mingled Computer-Sermon Thoughts

As I sat at home this morning and listened to my church's service over the internet, I started looking at all the different keys on my keyboard and wondering what they were for. What in the world did they do? I had never paid much attention to them. I know f9, f10, and f11 will mute, increase, and decrease the volume of my speakers. Ctl x and v are great for cutting and pasting; and when everything freezes up, use ctl/alt/del, but that is about all I know.

I also checked out the little glass circle at the top of my laptop where it says, "HP True Vision HD". I had never noticed it before. I finally realized it was a camera for skyping or creating crazy videos of myself for YouTube if I were so inclined. Hmmm, I'll have to think about that one later.

Here is what I did think about though. This laptop of mine has all sorts of features I haven't a clue about. I turn it on, log in, check out my favorite web sites, play a few games, watch a few shows, write my blog, and track my finances. That is about it. I know and use the basics when it comes to spreadsheets and word processing. That is all I need. But, what am I missing out on when it come to the power in electronics and the cyber-world? That is what I asked myself.

While praise and worship was going on in the background, my thought about computer possibilities continued. I could get online help to learn some new things. My kids could teach me other things if I asked for help. Or I could just experiment. Somewhere in that process I would discover more of the power that is available to my fingertips, power that I don't even know about? Part of my hesitancy is a fear of fouling everything up. Part is complacency--I'm happy doing what I'm doing. I really don't need to know more, do more, or ....

(...the sermon coming through my speakers was beginning to mingle with my thoughts about my computer...)

...God's power is available to everyone of us. So is his abundant grace and mercy. None of us deserves any of it. It isn't a question of us or our deeds being good enough. It is all about God's generous, abundant gifts. The question is will we receive and act in return...

(...my thoughts of computer power and God power were really blending at this point...)

I know my computer has skyping abilities. Have I checked it out and acted on it? No! I also know I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Have I really and seriously checked it out and acted on it? No!  I do what I know I can do. "It's easier that way. It's a fail-proof method." I tell myself. No sooner are those words out of my mouth than a lie is believed. By doing the easy thing and not stepping out in faith is denying the truth of God's word. By doing the easy thing, I cut myself off from becoming all I can be, doing all I can do,  and experiencing God's power, mercy and grace to its fullest.

I can live without skype and the power of the cyber-world. I don't think I am missing that much. But to miss out on experiencing God's power to the fullest because I am content to live as I am and not continue growing is a travesty. I can almost hear God saying, "My dear daughter, I have so much to give you, yet you seem content to live in spiritual poverty and to waste much of what you do have."

Lord, let me live your promises without fearing failure. You know the plans you have for me. Show me the path your heart desires me to walk so that those plans will be realized.

Give me clarity of vision, purity of heart, and open ears. I want what you want me to want, Lord. I really do. Please remove the complacency that tends to define who I am. 

You have blessed me so much, Lord. You have provided what I needed even when I have not specifically prayed for it. You truly know my heart and my needs; and you give your abundance in spite of my shortcomings. I confess there are many, but will not name them all before the world. You know every single ones of them, even the ones I am unaware of. Make me aware, Lord.  

I praise and give you thanks, all powerful one: Provider, Shepherd, King, Healer, Deliverer, Warrior, Creator, Redeemer, my Shalom.

Good night, Father, and Amen. 

Jan

"What Is Man, That You Take Thought of Him!"

Back in 1977, at least that is when I think it was, my husband and I, our three kids, and my parents camped our way through a combination of at least eight National Parks, National Monuments, and points of interest in the wild,wild,west. My dad did the cost analysis to determine what each family would pay for food, park and campground fees, and treats such as ice cream cones. Mom was the family banker, and I planned the itinerary--no more than 300 miles a day. We drove a V.W. Rabbit and slept in a tent. My folks drove and slept in their truck with a camper top. What an adventure we had that summer.

Death Valley equaled one hot night and two hotter days. Burning alkali flats and barren, purple hills were new, yet strange, to children used to evergreen forests and dark, dense undergrowth. New were lizards and jack rabbits. Also new were rabbit brush and sage which chirred and whirred when insects within them began serenading the approaching night. "Rattlesnakes!" my nine year old daughter exclaimed, and wouldn't go anywhere near a bush the entire evening. Oh, but how we loved the star filled sky!!

There is something special about the desert. Its smell, its sounds, and its sights all take one's breath away.

After the glamour and glitz of Las Vegas with its amazing neon lights and night life followed by Hoover Dam, an engineering wonder, we gazed, awestruck, once again, into the beauty and grandeur of the Grand Canyon. Each day that followed filled us with awe and wonder. The colors and shapes of rock formations in Bryce National Park, and massive stone canyons in Zion National Park, the amazing cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde, standing in four states at once at Four Corners, playing in sand at Sand Dunes National Monument, driving up Pikes Peak, watching erupting geysers, bubbling hot pools, and majestic bison in Yellowstone National Park were each special in their own unique way. As with Death Valley, their smells, their sounds, and their sights all took my breath away.

Over and over again, as I stood dwarfed by the enormity of cliffs, rocks, and sand dunes; as I tried to make sense of the colors and shapes of canons and mesas; as I thrilled at not only the brilliance, but also the vastness of the Milky Way; and I as felt blessed by the presence of family, I thought of this scripture:

When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, The moon and the stars, which You have ordained; What is man that You take thought of him, And the son of man that You care for him? Yet You have made him a little lower than God, And You crown him with glory and majesty!…Psalm 8:3-5

Compared to all that God created, what am I? A mere speck, is what it seems, but I'm not. I am more than that. I am created and thought of by the creator himself, yes I am. But I am more than that. I am loved by him. I am loved so much that he humbled himself and took on flesh to live as I do. That is how much I am loved. But even more than that, he became my sin, your sin, and everyone else's sin when hanging on the cross. He wanted us restored, redeemed, and reunited with Him. That is love.

What are we that God takes thought of us? We are his beloved children, and he has a plan for us.

Gave a God day,
Jan

My Hairy Tale

I'm excited! My reason might seem silly to some, but makes perfect sense to others. I have an appointment to get my hair cut today. Hooray!!! How excited am I? I am so excited that I came to town at ten for a one o'clock appointment. There is no way I will be late for the shampoo basin, scissors, blow dryer and curling iron. I am good and ready.

I am also good and tired of my present hair. The style is just fine, but I made the mistake of going six weeks between appointments instead of my usual four. During those extra fourteen days, my coif has gotten too, too long. It should be just below my ear lobes and slightly curled under. Now it is more than chin length and won't hold any type of curl more than the few seconds it takes me to walk from the bathroom to my front door. Now I look like the illustrations of the old witch in Hansel and Gretel--long, stringy, grey hair. If I had a black, pointed hat with a wide brim, you couldn't tell us apart.

I wish I had my granddaughters' hair--thick, thick, full of body, and thick. Mine is extremely fine, extremely straight, extremely gray, and getting thinner all the time. The extremely fine part is okay. My hair is just like a newborn baby's hair. How nice. (Did you catch the sarcasm?)

The extremely straight is okay too, well almost. I do wish it had a little curl in it--just a little. I would even settle for hair that would hold a curl for more that a few minutes without the help of extra strength mousse and strong hair spray.

I can handle gray. In fact, I rather like it. Quite distinguished, you know.

But its the "getting thinner all the time" part I don't like. I do not like "thinner all the time" no matter how you frame it. Whether I part my hair on the left, the right, or down the middle, the result is always the same. Anyone who looks at my head can immediately tell what color my scalp is, there is plenty to look at.

Why, why, why can't "thinner all the time" be my body instead of my hair. But, if I ever get lice, they will be easy to locate.

The solution this past week to my old hag appearance has been to wear a baseball cap--not a macho, rah-rah, Support-My-Favorite-Team type of cap, but a feminine, I've-Been-to-Hawaii type of cap. A pretty pink it is. But I don't think my apparel change fooled anyone. I know it didn't fool me. My hair remained the same, but much less of the thin, straight, gray stuff was visible. I must admit the cap added a certain mystique to my appearance. It probably raised several question, too, such as, "Who is that lady in pink?" or "What in the world is she hiding under that crazy cap?"

Now that I have all this crazy frivolity out of my system, and had fun doing it, I must go on. Many men and women have to deal with hair loss on a daily basis. That is just one reason for a multitude of self image problems. Physical changes from medical treatments, disease or accidents can cause enormous challenges. Genetic disorders cause others.Sadly, too many people struggle with confidence in who they are. The mountains they face seems huge. For others, the battle to summit the mountains has been won.

It isn't always easy to put aside what society's says is acceptable and beautiful. Despite what the media says, we aren't our hair, our weight, our lips, our abs. We aren't our clothes, our makeup, our nose, or our skin color. We are our hearts.

The closer our hearts get to the heart of God, the more beautiful we become.

Lord, help me become more beautiful for you,
Jan

Preying Coyote

There we three stood at 9 o'clock this morning, but each of us was aware of only one other. I was looking out my son's kitchen window at Pup, who was fixed to his chain. It was just the two of us in my little world--Pup and me.

Completely unaware of my observing eye, tied-up Pup was intently looking off to the left somewhere, totally  consumed with an object of extreme interest. Her world, as far as she knew, consisted of herself and  just one creature--a coyote! Yikes.

And the coyote, a large. tawny fellow, was standing motionless in the yard not more that fifty feet from Pup. His world consisted of only two beings--him and Pup (tied-up Pup). Double yikes!

When I realized that Coyote was a coyote and not a small deer, I opened the glassed door from the dining room and stepped outside, just a little way I might add. Coyote trotted off a few yards, then stopped to check me out. Pup, seeing her visitor run a little, acted like she was ready to go play with this new found canine who came for a morning romp. I came further out of the house. Coyote trotted off a little more, but not nearly far enough for me. He again stopped, looked at me, and waited for me to make my next move, which I did. I jumped toward him, waved my arms, and yelled, "Get out of here, you stupid* coyote." He took off into the undergrowth and, I assume, into the forest.

So, Pup is no longer tied up in the back yard for the day. She is in an 8 foot kennel by the garage with a few toys, her blanket, and some fresh water. She doesn't have nearly as much room to run and play, but at least she isn't staked out as easy pickings for someone's dinner.

She probably would have been okay on her chain during the day because I think coyotes like hunting early in the morning and in the evenings, but I don't want to take a chance. I am also hanging around my son's house today; and not going to my house to putz around. If Mr Coyote puts in another visit without an invitation, he will be yelled at, told to get out of here, and called Stupid again. This place is off limits.

No, a coyote is not a lion. No, a coyote does not roar. But I sure thought of 1 Peter 5:8

Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.

But I then thought of James 4:7

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

As I have been mulling over this whole morning encounter, here are some things that have come to mind:

• Pup was tied/chained/bound up because she hasn't learned what she can and can't do, or where she can and can't go. She used to stay with Big Dog, who is well trained, but that has changed. She now tends to venture off into parts unknown, doing what she wants to do, and getting herself into trouble. Just last evening she went to the neighbors house, trotted through the open door, grabbed a stuffed toy, and trotted back home with it. Of course the neighbor was hot on Pup's wagging tail. Young One has so much to learn.
• Being chained makes Pup extremely vulnerable to preying enemies.
• The enemy is always on the lookout for an easy victim.
• The enemy will flee when challenged by one much stronger and bigger than he.
• What are the things that keep me bound--the resentments, fears, doubts, and un-Godly thoughts that make me easy prey for the enemy? 
• As I obediently submit to my master, my chains will be loosed and the enemy will flee.

These are just a few thoughts I've had today. 

By the way, I haven't seen the coyote around this afternoon, at least not yet, all four cats are accounted for, Big Dog is sleeping by the front door as usual, and Pup, well, Pup is whining to be let out. She needs to learn patience, too.

In the meantime, I'm will check to see what chains I might have that make me easy prey for roaring lions. Whatever form they take, they need to be removed by the best chain remover I know. He is also a Master Carpenter. Jesus Christ

Jan

John 4:4 He that is in me is greater than he who is in the world.

*Stupid is a word we do let the grand kids call each other or even use, for that matter.

Where Did They Go?

By this morning, I was really starting to get concerned. I've been pet/house sitting for a mere five days and have held and petted only two cats,  Oreo and Toby, during that time. I thought I had lost Lily and Reilly. I have absolutely no idea where they could be. Either something had happened to them or they became invisible.

I wasn't surprised I didn't see them the first couple days. These are country-livin' cats, after all--home a few days, gone a few days. For all I knew, the phantom felines could be coming and going from the house during the day when I'm away or at night when I am dreaming sweet dreams. Then I wondered if one of them might be trapped in someone's garage or shed. This led to thinking they might have been hit by cars even though they stay pretty much in the woods. Then there is always the possibility that...I tried not to think about the eagles and coyotes that also inhabit this neck of the woods. All I knew for sure was I hadn't seen either of them in five long days.

This morning, while feeding Big Dog and Pup, I saw the no-longer-missing Miss Lily. She was just sitting on the picnic table in all her grey glory watching the whole feeding scene. I wondered what was going through her sleepy, little head as Pup, hardly able to contain her excitement over a bowl of kibble, jumped all over the place before chowing down. The assorted colored bits in her bowl would be gone in a matter of seconds. In contrast, Big Dog looked down her nose at her same old-same old dog food, wagged her tail, sighed, laid herself down next to her bowl, and slowly dined. She was in no rush; it seemed Lily was in no rush either.

The dogs ate, she watched, and I slowly approached her highness. Not wanting to scare her off, I slowly stretched out my hand and said, "Good morning, kitty." Without a blink of an eye or a twitch of her tail, she observed my maneuver in complete boredom. I gave her a little pat her head. She gave me a little meow in return. I petted her sides. She seemed quite well fed. Now, certain she was just fine after her long absence, I sat down. We, Miss Lily and I, needed to have a little Grandma-to-cat chat.

"Well, well, little kitty, what have you been up to these past few days? I haven't seen you around much. Not at all, actually. Where have you been keeping yourself?"

As I awaited her reply, I rubbed her head and scratched her ears. I wasn't too surprised when no answer came. Her only response was the closing of her eyes and tiny twitch in her tail.This wasn't working, so I changed my approach.

"I am so glad you came home." I purred. "I really missed you a lot. I was afraid something bad might have happened to you.Your bowl of food is waiting inside. Why don't you come on in, have some breakfast, curl up on my lap, then we can talk."

Not only was my invitation met with silence, little miss kitty cat jumped off the table to rub noses with Oreo, my evening foot warmer. Off the two went, leaving me standing by myself with my cat petting hand in midair. I went inside. What else is a person to do when treated so rudely--by a cat?

Since then, Lily did grace the house with her appearance, though briefly. She took me up on my offer of breakfast, sat on a table next to me, heard something interesting outside, and left the premises. Will she be back soon? I sure hope so. We still need to have that Grandma-to-cat chat. I need to tell her that no young lady, even if she has had the "special" visit to the vet, should be running around all hours of the day and night. She needs to forget about the mice, moles, frogs, birds and other exciting things out there. She has perfectly good food by the water heater in the utility room. She needs to forget about hiding and sleeping in boxes and under bushes. What in the world is wrong with the sofa, or the stairs, or my lap?

Oh yes, Miss Lily, we need to have a talk.

On a more serious note, I really was concerned about the cats and beginning to fear the worse. I was quite excited to see Lily this morning. In a crazy sort of way I think I might have felt what the father in the story of the prodigal son might have felt. Relief followed by a lot of unanswered questions, then a desire to celebrate the return and an opportunity to discuss the dangers of questionable choices.

I still don't know where Lily's partner in crime is. While talking with my traveling son this morning, he told me where Reilly usually sleeps when he is outside--on the top shelf in the shed, of all places. Hopefully that is where I will find him when I head home pretty soon. If not, I will wait.

I feel bad that I don't know where the cats are when they are outside. I don't even know what they are doing. I make sure there is always food in their dishes inside and water in the bowls outside. I scan the yard for them when I'm outside, but until I see them, I just have to trust they are okay.

This whole experience with Lily has caused me to thank my God who watches day and night for any of his wandering children to return home. He will get a banquet ready and provide a great place to stay. The best part is that, unlike me who has no idea where my feline charges are or what they are doing, he always knows where his children are and what they are doing, even when they might think they are lost.

Thanking God for being a great father,
Jan

From Luxury to Blessing

I really should head home pretty soon, but for the time being I will continue living in the lap of luxury. I am still in my robe, sitting in a very comfortable chair with my bare feet on the ottoman and a cat keeping them nice and toasty. My lap top is on my lap, and a bowl of freshly picked strawberries and a half finished novel are within arm's reach. Aaaah, this is the life, pet sitting for my son.

Then reality storms into my idyllic world. The once sleeping cat decides that my wiggling toes should be attacked, the pup, tied up in the back yard, starts whining to come in, my breakfast dishes call out from the kitchen counter where I plopped them, I think about what awaits me at home, then my cell phone starts ringing.

"Hello. Oh, hi, world. Yes? Yes? It needs to be blessed? Okay, I'm coming right over."

So I will now get dressed, wash my dishes, pet the dogs and cats, and head home. My vacuum cleaner hasn't had any exercise in weeks. My dust cloths yearn to attack accumulating dust bunnies, dust mites, and anything else dust related. And the toilet brush is itching to get scrubbing.

But don't worry, Lap of Luxury. I will return this evening to finish my novel and the strawberries. I will return to provide legs and feet for the cats to snooze on. I will return to let the dogs curl up by my chair before bedtime. I'll return to you.

But for now, I must go home and celebrate this day by blessing my house.

Jan

Like A Thief in The Night

I'm writing at my son's house this morning. I had planned to go home after I fed both dogs, but got on my laptop first. As usual, I checked out Facebook, then checked out a local webpage that posts what the police and fire departments are up to. What I read really shook me up. An 88 year old neighbor came home to find two men burglarizing his house last night. The burglars fled into the woods.

I don't scare easily, but that scared me.  I live less that 1/2 mile from his mobile home park. Now, I have to go home to my empty, secluded house wondering if those bad-guys burglarized any other homes on my road. I really don't think they did, but the thought entered my mind.

This isn't the first time I have thought about someone entering my house without an invitation. Thankfully, I have four different rooms that have doors that go outside. I could easily escape if I didn't first take time to find my shoes and my cell phone. I could run and hide in the trees bordering my yard. I could hide under the weeping tree with the long hanging branches. I could do all sorts of things to escape possible bodily harm. Then I wonder when or if fear kicked in would I freeze, fight, or really flee.

As you can tell, I have thought about what I would do if that situation ever arose. Then I take a deep breath and say, "Lord, you are in control. You will not give me anything I cannot handle." I call it faith, but others would called my thinking stupidity. Call it what you may, but that is how the Lord guides my thinking--think about solutions, then remember scripture. This morning he brought this scripture to mind:

Matthew 24:42-44New International Version (NIV)42 “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. 43 But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. 44 So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.

This made me think, "What a celebration there will be for those who are anticipating and ready for Christ's return. We will be both awestruck and rejoicing." Then I had to ask myself, "But the rest, will they, like Adam, attempt to hide from the surprise visitor? Will they climb behind rocks, under trees, or anywhere they can, all the while hoping their attempts to get away are not futile?" Just wondering.

Heading home to check out my house,
Jan

Who Knows How Long It Is

"The Idaho sunrise. Back on the road again..." That was what my grandson said about a photo he posted on Facebook this morning. Headlight of oncoming cars can be seen in the distance while the early morning sky holds a brilliant white orb surrounded by an aura of yellows and reds. A new day is dawning. Who knows what it will hold?

Who knows is a question, most often rhetorical, we ask about so many things, One of my favorites was captured on a tape recording made around sixteen years ago. My oldest son and his two boys went on a day hike just for the fun of it. Each one carried a light backpack filled with his lunch, snacks, and water. In addition, Dad carried his trusty camera and a handheld tape recorder. As the day progressed, the boys took turns recording the sights, sounds, and activities as they unfolded. From "snow so bright it hurt your eyes" to "a snake that would scare Mom," we stay-at-homers were later able to enjoy the hike with them.

My favorite part was recorded during one of the hungry hikers' stops. The younger boy's account went something like this, "We are sitting by a cold stream eating some snacks. The stream is about six feet across (pause) and eight inches deep (insert a long, long, long pause here) and who knows how long it is!"

I loved it. I could just picture him sitting there, recorder in hand, looking upstream, then downstream, and back upstream again, only able to see the stream disappear from sight as it bubbled and gurgled its way through the forest. "Who knows how long it is!"

I loved his comment for several reasons.

• Some things are so wonderful, they can't fully be explained. 
• There are situations that cross our paths from time to time that we see and feel, but don't understand where they came from, where they are going, or how we will be affected.
• Whenever we come face to face with God's love, grace, care, and even correction, we cannot begin to understand its extent. 

Sitting by the flow of God's love I know it is refreshing, it is deep, and it is wide. But how long is it? Unending!

Jan

That's Cats For You

A feline adventure is in store for me over the next couple weeks, at least I consider it an adventure. I will be pet sitting again for my son and his family while they take a camping vacation. While they are gone, I will spend spend nights at their house. The dogs do fine. During the day, the pup remains tied on a long chain. She has a kiddie pool full of water, a dog house with her favorite towel inside, multiple toys, and shade--all within easy reach. The big dog spends her day on the front porch acting as a guard dog, or patrolling the surrounding yard, checking out the forest and neighbors' houses for anything that doesn't belong, and keeping an eye on pup.

In the afternoon, a neighboring college student takes the dogs on a run, then I come over to feed them dinner and stay the night. Pup sleeps inside in her kennel and big dog usually sleeps on the front porch, but sometimes comes in for some extra petting and ear scratching before retiring to her bed by the pup. The dogs won't be any trouble at all.

Then there are the cats, inside-outside felines they are--four of them--all hunters. Inside-outside means they come and go as they wish, sometimes eating in, sometimes dining out. The next few days I probably won't see them at all. This is what I think happens. One will come part way through their access area and see me sitting in the living room. She will go back outside to tell the others, "That strange lady is here again. Come on, let's go. We'll come back later." Then, when I do finally leave in the morning, they come in, have a bite to eat, and make themselves at home. When late afternoon comes around, the sentry cat will finally have to sound the dreaded alarm. "A key! A key! I hear a key! She's baaaack!" By the time I get inside, not a cat is to be seen, but I know they have been around because they left empty dishes in the utility room.

After several days, my adventure will begin because the furry, purring machines will begin thinking a warm lap would be nice to sit on. They will think my human hands should be petting their neglected heads. They also will think the opened newspaper would make a great place to lie down, even if it is being held. I know this is what they think. So they will finally venture in, slowly and with caution, to check out the strange lady sitting in their dad's chair. Tobias will be in charge. Is her lap warm? Check. Do her hands pet and scratch with expertise? Check. Does her reading material crackle when rubbed against? Check. "Okay, gals, she passes. Hey, Lily, bug off! Oreo, Riley, do I have to box your ears? I'm first. Lily, wait your turn. I did the testing. I get to enjoy the luxury. (knead, knead) Purrrrrrrr".

That's cats for you, but I love their company on these cool evenings.

Awaiting my dog and cat adventure,
Jan

My Deer Visited Today

Hooray, they are back, my deer, that is.  I hadn't seen does, fawns, or anything else resembling deer in my yard all summer. The bucks usually don't stay around, and the elk usually don't cross the highway to visit me. I hadn't realized how much I've missed those beautiful, graceful creatures until I caught a glimpse of them this morning.

Calling them my deer is a little presumptuous of me. I guess I feel that while they are on my land, I can claim them. Then, of course, it's not my land either. My piece of paradise and all that dwell on it belong to the Lord. I'm just the caretaker.

So, this morning I am watching and caring for a doe and twin fawns. I noticed the doe first. She was eating the leaves off a weeping type of tree in my yard. Though the tree isn't very tall, its slender branches gracefully cascade all the way to the ground. It's beautiful to look at and a wonderfully secluded place for children to play. Today, the children were not the usual kind. These were four-footed, but they played like any other child would do. They jumped in and out of the branches, making each other jump in surprise while mama kept close watch.

It wasn't long before the fawns left their leafy playground to find their mother for a quick snack. She let them both nurse before leading them into some tall grass where those little guys just disappeared. The mom then moved into the nearby mowed area to graze, but the fawns remained hidden. All I could see was an occasional twitch of an ear.

Over an hour has passed and I can no longer see any sign of the little family. They may all be bedded down in the grass, safely camouflaged from prying eyes--mine, or they may have slowly disappeared through the undergrowth and into the forest.

What a blessing that beautiful mama and her babies brought to my day.  They brought something else, too--a reminder of a sermon I heard over forty years ago.

The pastor that Sunday began by saying many people don't feel a need for church because they can see and worship God while hiking, camping, boating, skiing... Our mighty, creator God is evident wherever we look. We can praise him for the beauty in the trees, flowers, and sunsets. We can be in awe of the wildlife we are privileged to glimpse. "Wow, what an awesome God!" we can proclaim in complete sincerity. We can even burst into song. But nature is a place where the graceful fawn is slain by the hungry cougar securing food for her cute babies. Its where the crow steals newly hatched robins from their nests. It's where the bald eagle carries the family cat home for dinner. Its where the large-mouth bass grabs an unsuspecting duckling. That is the way nature is, each animal living the only way it knows how.

But we aren't those animals. We are God's children, created in his image, who often choose to do our own thing, things for which we need forgiveness. Nowhere in nature will we see Christ's redemptive death on the cross . And, nowhere in nature will we see Holy Spirit changing hard hearts. We need to hear the Word proclaimed, taught, preached, witnessed to, and sung before we can even begin to understand not only our creator God, but also our redemptive Lord, and heart changing, step leading Holy Spirit.

Thank you, Lord, for the deer family that ate, played, and rested in my yard this morning. Thank you even more the reminder that you are so much more than a marvelous creator. You are my redeemer. Amen

Jan

Blue Prints For Birds

The mystery of the rat-a-tatting on my roof the past couple weeks has been solved. Stellar Jays have been plucking hazelnuts off my tree, taking the delicacies to the rooftop, and proceeding to peck and pound away until the husk is gone and only the nut remains. Clever birds.

I discovered the solution to my riddle when I saw a jay pecking at a lower limb of a rhododendron just outside my window. Upon further observation, I discovered that Mr Jay was working over a hazelnut, not the rhodie branch. Rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat-a-tat. Several minutes of head-pounding work went by before the bird considered his job done. Then off he flew, nut in beak, to dine at some unknown destination.

Now, as a hungry jay is once again processing his harvest on my roof instead of the nearby bush, I don't have to wonder what in the world is going on. I can now marvel at God's creativity when he created the Stellar Jay with its black crested head and breast, and deep blue wings, tail, and body. Of our local birds, the jay is not only one of the most beautiful, but also one of the noisiest. Only the crow offers any competition in the bird call arena.

How in the world did birds learn to open shells or remove husks to get at the seeds any way? That is my question of the day. Discovering nuts in already broken shells might have been part of the process, then observation by the young probably continued the scavenging eating habits. But to identify a whole nut, then intentionally work and work to get at hidden goodies takes intelligence. I know that jays, like crows, are smart birds. That is a given. "Something more" is also at work in bird brains. I believe God has given each created species, not merely birds, knowledge that is hardwired into their brains.

For birds, food gathering is just one, nest building is another. Nests built of branches and twigs that withstand 100 mile per hour winds, mud and grass nests with multiple rooms that hang gracefully from tree branches, tiny nests held together with spider webs, as well as intricately woven nests made of long blades of grass can't be self-taught in time to rear a family. There is no time to find a mate, figure out how to build a nest, lay and brood eggs, and feed hungry mouths if trial and error were the formula for nest building. Failed nest after failed nest, in my opinion, would only lead to rapid extinction.

Besides, once a successful nest was built, the hatch-lings hadn't watched the process, so how could they repeat the process when the time came. Once fledged, soon-to-be nest builders didn't go to nest building school. They instinctively knew what kind of branch, trunk, reed, or grassy field to build in. They knew how to  attach the infrastructure to the branch. They knew how to weave, carry mud, find padding, deepen holes, and whatever else it took to build a nest. They just knew how to build a home that would withstand most anything, whether weather or predator. An engineering degree wasn't necessary because Creator God lovingly placed the necessary blue prints, building codes, and weight restrictions in their brains.

Can I prove this? No, but this is what I believe.
Jan

New Carpet

Years ago one of my children had to write a paper on Beowulf, an ancient Anglo-Saxon epic poem, for a high school English class. The teacher didn't want pronouns such as he, she, and they used when they the students could creatively use nouns. That Writing with limited use of pronouns is extremely difficult. Yesterday's blog was an attempt to do just that such an attempt. The challenge will continue for a few days. Will it what is now difficult becomes easier with experience? Only time will tell.

The real challenge is not in refraining from pronoun usage, but in using nouns that will still keep the feel of down-home conversation. That might The possibility might be beyond my reach, but if possible, I This puzzle lover will solve it find a solution.

The bold and italic enhancements and strike-throughs are for demonstration purposes only. Such overt visuals won't be used beyond this point.

Here is a question. When preparing and packing for a two week camping vacation, and leaving within a day, what should the head of the household do? Surely each of us has our own answer, and each of us would probably be correct in our own minds. For one young man, namely son number two, installing wood flooring in his daughter's bedroom took top priority! Honestly!

Two days ago the pink bedroom walls were repainted a mint green, and the pink carpet was removed. One wall was painted black. Mainly consisting of folding closet doors, which stayed white, and recessed shelves, which became mint green, this wall added a nice accent, as did all the now black trim. As of last evening, the flooring was finally installed and the furniture starting to reappear. The only remaining tasks of the decorating project are the application of a large, beautiful scripture decal on one wall, and a mint green, hand painted design above the closet door--to be completed upon return from vacation.

Replacing my granddaughter's carpet was a necessary step. Miss Smiley-All-The-Time has allergies. Carpets and allergies just don't mix, especially on sleep-overs when a gaggle of giggling girls bed down on the soft floor for the night. By morning, Miss Smiles has transformed into Miss Miserable-Itchy-Splotchy-Face. The carpet might have been more comfortable than the wood floor will be, but the carpet had to go.

There is carpeting in my own life that needs to go, too--not in my house, in my life. Attitudes are the main problem, attitudes that can change me from Ms Happy-Feelgood to Ms Blue-Stay-At-Home. Some of the stuff has been in my mood carpet for years, building up layer by layer. For example, take the allergens that cause me to doubt myself, what I do, and what I have to say. Being around people can stir up enough emotions that I begin feeling miserable. That is when the flight mode kicks in.

I say, "Can stir up," not "Does stir up." After the news of my husband's crime became public, "does stir up" was the norm. Enough vacuuming and dusting has taken place by now that "does stir" is now "can stir." I probably need to remove the carpet in that part of my mind because using previous experiences to justify escaping any situation I want to get out of--even if I don't feel an emotional need to flee has become easy. The sometime vacuumed, mite filled, pollen filled, lie filled carpet has become comfortable.

The solution to my problem is the installation of a new, clean, truth filled, love filled, incense filled carpet so when I, or others, walk on its fibers only goodness and a sweet aroma will be stirred up.

I need to shop for a new carpet. How about a blood red one?
Jan

In A Stew Pot

Chicken stewing in a pot, soon you'll look like what you're not.

That is the thought that went through my mind this morning as the aroma of chicken broth wafted into my bedroom. Ah, what a nice way to wake up. Two chickens, two whole onions (skins and all), and half a dozen wilted celery stalks had been simmering away since midnight. By this evening, this wonderful slurry will be strained, cooled, and stored in the freezer until soup creation time. The meat will be picked off the bones, divided into packages, and frozen for upcoming meals. Some will be kept aside for tasty additions to low-cal salads this weekend.

Chicken bones and onion skins,
My hair held back by bobby pins,
Dirty pot and greasy sieve,
Money for a maid, I'd give.

Creating something new from something old is what God is doing in this old hen. Sadly, sometimes a stew pot is part of the process.

Preparing, cleaning, and praising in my kitchen,
Jan