A day of diverse activities, that is what today is. It started with the pest control guy spraying for pests (the six legged kind) around my house. It then moved to my Tuesday morning prayer meeting in town, followed by a visit to the friendly dentist. One filling later (old one was cracked) I was back home washing up a sink full of bowls and small plates, glasses, silverware, and a couple pot and pans. By then my deadened mouth was no longer dead so I fixed a bite to eat, inhaled it, then handled today's mail. The clock, if it were able, would now be chiming 4:00. So I now have one and one-half hours to write this post--if I can figure out what to write-- and head to the school to watch my grandson play some basketball. Where did Tuesday go?
While that is a very good question, an even better question is, what happened to Monday? Before heading out this morning, I sent a short e-mail to my dad with this heading, "Monday Morning." As I drove down my road, I noticed most of my neighbors had their garbage cans out as well as their recycle bins. Oh, ya, I told myself. Tomorrow is recycle day--gotta remember to get my can out. My neighbors are really on the ball getting their cans out a day early.
Well, the truth hit me about fifteen minutes later. My neighbors weren't a day early, I am going to be a day late. Now I have to wait two more weeks before I can get rid of all my papers, cans, and plastic bottles from Christmas. Oh well.
As for my "Monday Morning" note to Dad, I hope I don't get him all confused. But knowing him, he knows it is Tuesday because his weekly routines keep him on track--a track that is nearly impossible to remove him from. That guy doesn't derail easily. That is the complete opposite of me. Most of the time, I am not even on the track. If I start out on the mainline in the morning, by sometime mid-afternoon I am usually in a field somewhere playing in the daisies with The Little Engine That Could.
Four-thirty has rolled around and I, instead of writing, have been sitting here in my 'daisy field' playing with thoughts such as, what happened to the mouse head and ?? that Licorice left on the porch last night? They were still there when we got up this morning, but not there when I got home at two. Did the pest guy remove them? Did Licorice have them for lunch? Did the crows come calling at my smorgasbord of exotic foods? I would love to know what happened. There has got to be a good story there somewhere. I know they didn't run off on their own.
I also played a virtual game of remember when... Remember when you had to spit into the little bowl by the dentist chair? Remember when x-rays were little, black, transparent squares placed on a light box so the white images of your teeth would be 'read' by the dentist? Remember the low-pitched sound and the vibration of the slow rpm drills? Remember...Let's not.
Now that I have spent an hour writing, wondering, and reminiscing, all in the comfort of my living room, I want to leave with this from a video I watched last night. It was taken at 2010 youth conference in Tennessee. I loved the points Pastor Dan Mohler was lovingly pounding home. These are my interpretations of his message.
God didn't send his Son to die for us so we could go to heaven some day. Jesus died to bring heaven to us while we live. He lives in us.
God doesn't look at us and see worthless, sinful failures. He looks at us and sees the people he created us to be. People with a purpose. People so valuable, so needed, so loved, that he paid the redemption price--the life of his own son.
Instead of asking, "How could God allow x, y, and z to happen to me?" or "How can God love me? I'm such a failure." remember there are no 'what ifs' and 'ifs onlys' with God. God sees us as he made us to be. We are the ones who see ourselves as failures, sinners, no good, or whatever else the world puts on us.
As redeemed treasures, when negativity rears its ugly, accusatory head we need only say, "Thank you, Lord, that I am no longer that other person. Thank you for loving and redeeming me, for changing me, for empowering me. Thank you for helping me become who you made me to be."
Pastor Mohler is an interesting, flaky (his own words) guy, but I love the way he celebrates life in the Lord and the victory Christ gives us over past hurts and defeats.
And, with that, I will sign off to get ready for a basketball game.
A redeemed treasure of the Lord,
Jan---Licorice, too (sleeping again, but at least she won't bring any mice home)
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