May My Heart Overflow

It is amazing how the process of memorizing 1 Thessalonians has opened my eyes to little things I had not noticed in merely reading it. At this point, I have worked through the first three chapters, more or less. There are still a couple places I can't remember the wording. There are also times I completely leave out a few sentences only to realize the omission several verses or chapters later. I'll get it down in due time--whenever that is.

So, what has jumped out at me? First off, I was surprised that the love, compassion, and concern Paul, Silas, and Timothy had for the new believers was so strong. For some reason, I didn't expect that (#1) a group of men would describe their love of the new believers in terms of a mother tending to her children; that (#2) dealing with them as a father deals with his children would include the word 'comforting'. 'Encouraging' and 'urging' from a father seems completely natural, but for some odd reason I associate comforting with a mother, not a father. Then (#3) when this group of men was forced to leave town after spending only three Sabbaths there, the apostles express an 'intense longing' to see the church at Thessaloniki, and to know how they are doing. As they said, "We can hardly stand it."

At first, I thought I was increasing my knowledge of Paul by learning that he was more than an educated man on fire for the Lord. He was also a passionate man who was not afraid to express his feelings of love and compassion. He also as not afraid to openly express his fears. "I was afraid that somehow the tempter might have tempted you and our efforts might have been useless." I wondered if this freedom of emotional expression was due to his culture or to his amazing encounter with the Lord.  It could have been either or both.  I don't know. But I do know this, strong feelings like these men had are foreign to me personally. I have no idea what intense longing feels like. I also have never loved anyone, other than my own family, as a mother tending her little children. Somewhere in this earthly body that houses a woman named Jan is a blockage that keeps me from either feeling or allowing myself to feel. Part of it stems from my upbringing, but that is no excuse. Something bigger prevents the Lord's love for me from being emotionally felt for or expressed to others.

I will let that last sentence stand, but upon further thought, I do express my love for others, but not by saying, "I love you." I am getting better about that, but I find it hard to say it in those words. Although my emotions remain largely unseen, encouraging, comforting words from my mouth speak loudly and clearly, as do my actions, reactions, and responses. I do what I do, and say what I say because that is what is on my heart to do and say. not because I am filled with an intense, heart-felt love toward, or intense longing for, the people involved.

I could try to say that I am honestly okay with things the way they are, but I can't do that. How can I actively, sincerely, and compassionately tell people that God loves them when I am not aware of feeling that way toward them myself?  I want to be at the place that I can't stand not knowing if the shopper at Walmart or the picnicker at the park is in need of prayer and healing for a physical malady, or if they need to know Jesus.  I want what Paul, Silas, and Timothy had--a heart of Love that overflows to all I meet as well as one that can't stand not knowing how they were doing through their afflictions.

Lord, I am afraid parts of my heart are still stony and wrapped in barbed wire. Break the stone, remove the wire, and completely replace what is there. Give me a heart that  breaks and grieves as yours, cries and rejoices as yours, and Lord, may it overflow with Love as yours. Amen

Jan

Scripture used or referred to are found in 1 Thessalonians 1-3.

The image of a stony, barbed wire wrapped heart comes from a self portrait I drew for my second therapy session in 2009.

Life By the Pacific

Less than fifteen miles from my home--surfers and a bull elk!

Photos by Marianne Porter 8/2014

The Fall

What a wonderful time of year, the fall? 

The sky alive with grey scudding clouds, and honking geese heading south.

Trees decorated in red, yellow and orange; my yard, the same. 

Cool air by day, cold by night, always filled with the scent of rain. 

Sweatshirts, and hot drinks replacing tee shirts and iced lattes.

What a wonderful time of year, the fall!

Enjoying the beauty of God's wonderful day.

Jan

Lovely Thing, The ...

 I love stars. I think that lying on the grass and looking at stars is one of the best childhood memories I have from my little hometown in the Nevada desert. I loved finding the North Star, then the Big and Little Dippers, Orion's Belt, and the Pleiades (in the proper season), And I can't forget the Milky Way, that swath of light that flowed from horizon to horizon, looking like an artist's glitter-filled paintbrush had just swept across the night sky. 

Even as an adult I love looking at the stars. I guess that is why I liked camping so much. Once away from city lights, I could once again see the diamond studded night sky of my childhood, a tapestry of God's gems which has been amazing and thrilling people since the dawn of creation. 

Lovely things, the stars. That is what I have always thought, at least until last night when my granddaughter tweeted this quote from Dr. Who on the popular TV show by the same name. It began,

"Lovely thing, the dark,..."

That statement really grabbed me.  For some reason, describing the dark as lovely made me do a double take right off the bat. The words lovely and dark seemed like a terrible pairing. Lovely and dark  didn't even make sense to me, but after all, I am not Dr. Who. What do I know?

I finally read past, "Lovely thing, the dark...," and read the rest of the quote. "...without it you couldn't see the stars." STARS!  At that point, I couldn't let the quote go. "Lovely thing, the dark...." "Lovely thing, the dark...." The more I considered the brilliance of that statement, the more wonderful it became, and full of deep spiritual truth.

As I considered the darkness I had gone through, with its anxieties, fears, and confusion, I also considered the stars that shined so brightly--stars that had been hidden by the day. There were friends who called, family who supported and encouraged, Bible studies, sermons, and praise songs that taught, enlightened and gave hope. Each one always had been in my life or been available to me, but it had taken the darkness to reveal them as they were meant to be--God's bright lights of blessing to help guide my way. 

I pray, Lord, that any future darkness that comes my way may be deemed to be as lovely as the stars of blessing it reveals. In the meantime, make me more aware of the lights of blessing surrounding me daily--glimpses of you. Help me recognize, acknowledge, and cherish them, especially when my busyness is shining too brightly for me to see them. Lord, let nothing outshine the brightest star of all, your SON.

"Lovely thing, the dark, without it you couldn't see the stars."   Dr. Who

Jan

Once, after I learned how to count beyond one-hundred, I attempted to count not only the stars in the sky, but in the Milky Way too. I got confused after one-thousand. 

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He will rejoice over you with singing.

Have you ever suddenly been unable to find a child under your supervision? I will never forget the first time it happened to me. Thirty year ago it was. I was happily accompanying my young son's class on a field trip to a farm. We had had the excitement of riding on the big, yellow, school bus, checking out the pigs chickens, goats, cows, and horses, and eating our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and chocolate chip cookies all washed down with a container of milk. Finally it was time to head back to school..

One, two, three, four...I counted my charges clambering aboard only to discover that my own son was missing. He wasn't hanging out with other groups.He wasn't already on the bus. He wasn't in the Port-A-Potty. Where could he have gone? Panic began to set in as I backtracked our route through the farm. As I approached the horse barn, I saw a little male-child figure standing on an upper board of the pig sty enclosure. He was quite animated--waving his arms around. What on earth was he up to? With him, one never knew.

While hurrying toward him, not wanting to call out lest he startle and fall, I became aware of a sweet soprano voice ringing out.  What I observed as I got closer made me forget my worry. Instead, my heart swelled with happiness at the adorable sight. My little guy was standing on that battered, chewed-on fence singing Old McDonald Had A Farm at the top of his lungs. His skinny little arms waved with each "oink, oink," "honk, honk," and "moo, moo" that escaped his lips. "E,I,E,I,O." As he conducted his barn yard choir, the sows and piglets stared at him while noisily snorting away. In spite of being off-key and off-tempo, I think they rather liked the "With on oink, oink here and an oink, oink there"  part of the chorus.

This incident popped into my mind during a noon time visit to a local riverside park today. With my driver-side window rolled down, a crossword puzzle in my lap, and a burger in my hand, I began singing a silly ditty to the seagull pacing next to my car and giving me the evil eye. I sensed he was trying to guilt me into feeding him. I didn't fall for his valiant, "I'm a poor starving bird" act. Instead I sang a song of regret, explaining that people food wasn't good for gulls--something like, "Burgers and buns aren't good for the birds, little Buddy." He seemed to understand and flew away to see if he would have better luck getting salmon from the fisherman on the river bank.

As he took flight, I thought of Zephaniah 3:17

The LORD your God is with you,
       He is mighty to save.
       He will take great delight in you,
       He will quiet you with His love,
       He will rejoice over you with singing.

then asked myself, "Self, why not rejoice over all of God's creation with singing, too? You take great delight in them." Since I have sung over my own children, seen my son sing over, and with, the pigs, and sung to my first seagull, who knows where I will next take delight and rejoice with singing? Will it be Licorice Kitty? 

Maybe I should have sung a song of praise over her when she chased a mouse across the living room floor last night. Or, maybe I should have sung a song of lament over the poor victim of her attack when I gently scooped it onto a newspaper and took it out the door--with Kitty still in stalking mode..

.Seriously though, I think I will try singing over things in which I take delight--my roses and rhodies, the Autumn colored trees and migrating birds, scudding clouds and raindrops. I had better get my voice warmed up because I will soon be singing over everything.

If I don't post for awhile, check the mental hospital, I may have been committed. 

"Yes, 911 dispatch, my neighbor is standing in the rain, singing to her trees and to the frog hopping down the road. I think she has lost it. Hurry before she starts singing to the weeds and the gravel "

Thankful for all things, especially my Lord who rejoices over me with singing. I wonder what he sounds like. Someday I'll know.

Jan

Soily? Dirted? Mouse Heads? and Serving God!

Where, oh where, has this blogger gone? Where, oh where can she be? I know I haven't died. I'm not sick or depressed. I am not too busy. I haven't lost God's presence. He is still very much around here. My mind is just filled with so many un-measured, un-stirred, or half baked ideas that need to be more fully developed before I write about them that I have been silent.

Here it is, 4:30 P.M. on Monday, September 22, 2014. In an email to my Dad this morning I said I was going to get something written for my blog. So far I haven't even attempted to write. Instead, I completed my Bible study for today (Children of the Day by Beth Moore), memorized four more verses of 1 Thessalonians (I now have the first 2 chapters done), checked out yesterday's Facebook and Twitter entries, talked to my college granddaughter for half an hour, and ate all sorts of junk food. I am full of sugar, carbs, and empty calories: 2 slices of cold pepperoni pizza, 10 Ritz crackers with sliced cheddar cheese, 2 big bunches of super sweet, crunchy grapes, 1 small package of peanut M & Ms, 10 oz of cranberry juice, and, TADA, one hard boiled egg.

Now,...to the important things in life such as this question I pondered at the Three Course Challenge cross country meet for high school athletes in Seaside, Oregon on Saturday. It has nothing to do with running, but everything to do with running through the mud pit towards the end of each course.  If you get dirty playing in dirt, why don't you get soily when playing in garden soil? Instead, in soil you become soiled, but in dirt you never become dirted. Why, oh why? I will never know and certainly won't lose sleep over it. But from now on I will  think of my garden gloves as soily and my walking shoes as dirted.

And another question I have...what make Her Royal Blackness, Licorice Kitty, decide whether or not to eat a mouse's head? Sometimes she does; sometimes she doesn't. Is it the length of the deceased's whiskers, the beady-ness of  the eyes? The color of the incisors? I'm not losing sleep over this one either. I'm just thankful for the little gray opossum who strolls across my porch at night, triggering the motion sensor on the light, and checking for a snack. But now I wonder what in the world make a mouse head so delectable to that 'possum? Is it the...?

In case anyone was wondering why I am memorizing 1 Thessalonians, It is a challenge for our Bible study of 1 and 2 Thessalonians. I took on a similar challenge when we studied James, but for some reason I am having a little more difficulty this time, at least I think I am. The problem might not be because of my aging brain, but instead, due to different writing styles. James' writing is simpler than Paul's. Paul's sentences get quit long, full of phrases and comments. But, if I can continue learning a chapter a week (3-4 verses a day), I can complete the two books by the end of the course.

Come on brain of mine. we an do this.

In closing, I will leave this with you, God is amazing. He thrills me every day with the patterns of sun and shadow on my garage and yard. He brings gasps of awe at his sun rises and sunsets. He continually prompts me to move beyond my comfort zones, and inspires me to believe his promises to me, about me, and for me. What an incomprehensible God we serve.

Paul told the church of the Thessalonians, "...In spite of severe suffering, you welcomed the message to you with the joy given by the Holy Spirit. And so became a model to all believers in Macedonia and Achaia. The Lord's message rang out from you not only in Macedonia and Achaia--your faith in God has become known everywhere. Therefore we do not need to say anything about it, for they themselves report what kind of reception you gave us, They tell how you turned from idols to serve the true and living God, and wait for his son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, Jesus, who rescues us from the coming wrath." .  1 Thess. 1:6b-10 NIV

It is my prayer that the word of God working in me/you/our churches rings out loudly and clearly as it tell of our faith and our service to the true and living God. Through our words and our lives, may we be models of the Lord everywhere.

Have a God night, ya'll

Jan and Licorice Kitty, who is curled up between my thigh and chair arm, purring herself to sleep.

At A Loss for Words

With all the wonderful words in the English language to choose from, I can't find any that express what I want to say to a friend/acquaintance of mine, a mother with two elementary school children, whose forty-five year-old husband died from colon cancer this weekend. Saying "My condolences" seems so empty and impersonal. "I'm sorry" seems --- well, not quite right for the death of her husband.

Here is what I want to tell her in a letter...

Dear B.

I'm at such a loss for words right now. "My condolences" and "I'm sorry" seem so empty. I can't begin to imagine what you must be going through. Instead, I will picture myself holding you as I would my sons or daughters and telling you that...

It is OK to cry yourself to sleep, to cry in front of your kids, to cry when doing dishes or going grocery shopping. Crying is one great way to ease the pain. As a granddaughter once told me, "Crying lets the sad out." Just be sure to keep an ample supply of tissues with you.

It's OK to be angry at God. You can yell and scream at him if you want. He knows what you are feeling, so give him a piece of your mind if necessary. He can take it.

It's OK to be angry at your husband. Even though he did all he could to fight the cancer, you can still be angry at him for leaving you. It is a normal emotion that needs to be worked through even if it means writing him a letter.

Talk with your kids, cry with your kids, help them express their feelings through writing, drawing, looking at pictures or even breaking balloons.
 
Write. Write things you don't want to forget. Write down your fears and anxieties as well as those little times of blessing and joy--it helps put things in perspective, Write down your feelings, no matter what they are. They are neither right nor wrong. They are what they are at this moment in time.
 
Be thankful for all the years you had together.

Talk, talk talk. Find a friend who will listen without interrupting or giving advice--one who is all ears, yet can keep things confidential. This may even be a therapist.

I am praying for you and the kids as you begin a journey down a road you never expected to take. Because of your diligence and hard work at our scrap-booking retreats, your many beautiful albums of photos and stories about parties, vacations, fishing, and myriad mountains of fun will ease the journey.  Thankfully, these good times will never be forgotten.

And one other thing before I sign off. Grieving is a long, slow process. As hard as it is to grasp at this time, joy will return in time.

With lots of love,

Jan.

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Amazed by a "Fetus" (Baby)

I had an amazing experience today. I was invited to accompany a young mother to her prenatal ultrasound. My kids were all born in Neanderthal times, so the only way to tell anything about the baby was to... Well, to be honest there wasn't any way except x-rays which were known to be harmful. Of course, every woman I met had her own idea of boy or girl. Even though the predictions were many, each of my children still came sight unseen. Sort of like not peeking at Christmas presents before Christmas. What the doctor handed you, you marveled at, then unwrapped to its count fingers and toes. One, two, three, four, five!

Today I got to marvel at and count fingers and toes on an unborn baby. Right off the bat we learned her gender. Remember the days of Xerox butt shots? That is what we saw today--a perfect butt shot of a little girl. It definitely wasn't a boy.

As the technician slowly moved the sensing device around, I saw her (the baby's) legs, then her curved spine, little ribs,and beating heart. In the blink of an eye, an arm appeared from out of nowhere and settled by the baby's cheek. I was mesmerized as that tiny little thing moved her fingers one at a time. It was as if she was holding them up for us to count. Then her little chin moved. It wasn't random movement. For several seconds she opened and closed her mouth in a nursing motion. She was drinking amniotic fluid. Amazing.

Her eyes, nose and ears were all there--so small and perfect. The skull and brain were the right size for her age, 20 weeks. Every measurement was within normal limits. Back and forth the scan went--from head to butt and back. Suddenly, the baby stretched out her legs. There it was, a perfect little foot pushing on mama's bladder. Mama couldn't feel it yet, but knows from experience what is coming. The tech finally moved the scanner around to get a perfect photo of the sole of the foot--sort of a pre-birth print for her records. One, two, three, four, five. All the toes there accounted for.

Perfect she is, weighing in at 14 ounces. There is so much more growth to take place over the remaining five months.  The whole process is almost beyond comprehension.

How two special cells can combine, then share DNA that produces a complex individual, yet a blend of both parents is a wondrous thing. God did an amazing job when he created us and made us capable of reproducing. We may be capable of reproducing, but it is God who knits us together. Psalm 139:13. He does good work.

 He knows the plans he has for this little girl. I wonder what they are. Jer. 29:11

Still in a state of amazement,

Jan

Aaaargh, Internet Problems

I am so frustrated right now. I spent a couple hours writing a post this morning only to discover that my internet had gone down sometime during the writing process. After several phone calls to my provider, each promising help but not producing any, I finally got service restored. Now after logging in, I discover that I have lost everything I had written except the first two sentences.

I don't mind the inconvenience of no internet, but I don't like playing the run around game with service people. During my first call, I was transferred five times, giving my phone number, name and address each time. Finally I talked to someone who might have known something, He placed me on hold for a couple minutes before coming back on. "Sorry for your inconvenience, Jan, please disconnect your modem from its power source for three minutes, then plug it in again. That will take care of the problem. And thank you for calling Technical Support."

I should have told the guy that I had already tried that and it didn't work. Instead, I assumed I hadn't left the modem unplugged long enough, So, with a smile in my voice, I thanked him for his help and disconnected the power again. It didn't work this time either. I wasn't very happy.

I wasn't very happy for a couple reasons. Firstly, I think the advice was the standard, "Take two aspirin and call me in the morning, and hope she goes away." It often works, but not always. Secondly, it meant I had to make a second call. I do not like making phone calls, but I did it anyway. After jumping through more of the same hoops and waiting on hold again, I was told, "Jan, I'm sorry for your inconvenience. Our engineers are trouble shooting  your line right now. As soon as it is fixed we will call you. After receiving their call, unplug your modem for fifteen seconds and reboot your computer. Thank you for calling Technical Support."

I waited--for over an hour. Finally the call came in, a recorded message at that, "A problem with your internet service was detected and has been corrected. Sorry for any inconvenience this has caused. Thank you for calling Technical Support."

I quickly got off the phone, unplugged my modem for fifteen seconds, clicked the save button on my blog website, and rebooted my computer. I was ready to get back on line, post what I had written hours earlier, and check my e-mail. A quick glance at my modem told me that the green internet light was not lit. WHAT? You have got to be kidding me. The phone message I had just received said it had been fixed.

Now, I still couldn't log on because I still didn't have any service!! I called a third time, but the smiling voice had vanished. I was a little more agitated now. "I'm sorry for your inconvenience, Jan. Yes, ma'am, there had been an outage in your area. Yes, ma'am, they did fix it, but it went down again. According to the latest information from our engineers, service will be restored by 10 p.m. You will receive a personal call when the work is done. It will not be a recording. Thank you for calling Technical Support. "

Oh great. I was even more unhappy.  I didn't want strangers calling me by my first name, and I didn't like being called ma'am. I wanted to get on line. I wanted to see if my granddaughters had been on Twitter or Facebook. I wanted to see how the Mariners' game was going. If I had known how to throw a hissy-fit or go into a tizzy I probably would have. But I don't know, so didn't. Maybe I could take an on-line class on expressing ones emotions some way other than saying, "This is so stupid. I think I'll have a popcicle"

All afternoon I checked my modem for signs of internet life even  though I was told Tech Support would call. At 4:30 p.m. I did a double take. All four modem lights were lit up. The internet was back. Hooray.

With superhuman speed I logged in and discovered that the Mariners had won, my granddaughters had been fairly quiet on Facebook and Twitter, and I had no new e-mail. That is also when I learned I had lost my morning's hard work called, "Autumn Brings..." I guess without an internet connection anything saved isn't saved because there is nothing to save it to. So, with the click of a mouse, all had been lost and a lesson was learned. Next time I need to copy and past into a word document.

It is now 10:50 p.m. and my internet provider has not called to inform me that service has been restored--not even a recording. Maybe they will call before I go to bed at eleven.

So, here is the deal. This morning I wrote these words on Facebook,

While writing an email several years ago I accidentally typed, "Have a god day" instead of, "Have a good day." Wow, I thought, a day with God is always a good day, a special day. So, to all my friends and family out there, "Have a God day."

I should have listened to my own words. It wasn't until a few hours ago that I realized I hadn't been living my God day. Instead I had treated myself to a poor-me day complete with a pomegranate popsicle. How something as frivolous as an internet connection could ruffle this old hens feathers is beyond me. I know electronics will falter and corporations will fail my expectations. However, life will go on and new blog posts will get written. But, in the midst of it all, God will not falter, he will not fail, and yes, he will show me that my poor-me day really was a good day because it was a God day after all.

Wishing you all a God night too,
Jan