Freewill Parable

I love finding surprises. As I cleaned out desk drawers full of miscellaneous items last week, I stumbled across a yellow file-box filled with index cards, most of them blank, but not all. Some of them contained notes I had written several years ago. One was a granddaughter story I had forgotten about.

It seemed that my five-year-old granddaughter and her mother had differing opinions about that night's bedtime routine. Mom was tired, had a migraine headache, and wanted to retire early. Child was full of energy, wanted another ice cream snack, and wanted to watch a video. "I'm not sleepy," was her reasoning.

Not up to dealing with a confrontation, Mom looked at her blonde, tousled-haired daughter in footy pajamas and sighed, "Okay, if you think you can be your own boss, I'll let you. You know where the ice cream is. Eat is all. There is some candy hidden behind the cereal bowls. Eat that if you want. Put on a video. Stay up as long as you want, but be ready for kindergarten in the morning. I am going to bed. Oh, don't forget to check the doors and turn off the lights before you come upstairs. Good night. Have fun."

With that, Mom headed upstairs to her room. A heartbreaking wail followed her. "No, Mommy, don't go upstairs. I don't want to be the boss. I don't want anymore ice cream. I don't want to turn off all the lights. I want to be with you." P.J. girl then scampered up the stairs and hugged her mother.

As Mom tucked the headstrong daughter into bed, the child said, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I love you."

"Love you, too, Boo-Boo. Sleep tight."

The day my daughter recounted that story, I thought what a wonderful illustration of free will that was. We know what God expects of us. He's the boss, after all. But so often we want to do whatever we want to do, and do it right now. It might not be the right thing, or even the wise thing to do, but we think we know what's best. We can be my own bosses. "I've got this, Lord."

God says, "Go, do what you think best. When you learn what you have to learn and are ready to join me, you're more than welcome back. I'll be watching for you."

I pray that during those times in my life that I want to do my own thing,  I can honestly, and in a timely manner, cry out, "I really don't want to be the boss; I just thought I did. I want to be with you. I'm sorry, Lord, and I love you."

Thankfully, we have the story of the prodigal son to remind us of our Father's love in situations like this. Luke 15:11-32

Not wanting to be a headstrong, stiff-necked daughter of the King,

Jan, (Licorice Kitty and family),

(The kittens now climb onto the bed for their naps. Coming back down is a humorous sight. At least one comes down head first, leaping the last couple feet. Another has learned to turn around and back down the overhanging blanket.)

Everyone Counts

Ever since yesterday afternoon the same idea keeps going through my mind: everyone counts, everyone counts, EVERYONE COUNTS. Here's what triggered that thought. One of my granddaughters called from Eastern Washington to report the girls's results of the State Cross Country Meet. Their team took second place. That alone was fantastic, since they were seeded 4th. The amazing part is how they did it. That is where everyone counts enters the picture.

In cross country, runners are scored by the place in which they finished. The first runner across the finish line receives one point, second runner gets two points, etc.. Each team's final score is the sum of their first five finishers' points.

Our team's fans cheered our runners while still trying to keep track of what place each girl was in. Our first runner across the finish line usually ran second. Our second runner usually ran third. The third one across the finish line for our team usually ran first. Then came the fourth runner. It wasn't our usual runner. The girl coming across usually ran fifth or sixth. The fifth runner wasn't who the fans expected either. This was our other fifth or sixth place runner. Where was our girl, one of the strengths of our team. She came in as number six, and in tears. She had tried so hard, but knew she had failed. Many of the fans felt the same way as they waited for the race results.

Our number six runner had had an extremely rough day. She was fighting a cold, and before the race started, her asthma started acting up. During the race she knew she was slipping from her usual fourth place down to fifth, then to sixth, as two teammates passed her. She started to give up because she felt that if she wasn't able to finish as one of her team's top five, she no longer mattered. She had let the team down. But this young lady's competitive spirit finally took over. She decided to push through by giving it all she had. It wasn't much, but it was something. Her something allowed her to pass a couple runners on the team they ultimately beat.

What she didn't know was that during her struggles, her teammates' strengths were making up for her weakness. One girl increased her own personal record in the three mile race by thirty seconds. Another increased by twenty. The rest of her teammates remained fairly consistent.

Everyone anxiously waited for the results. It took forever before the final scores were posted. Our girls took second place with ninety-five points. The third place team also had ninety-five points. The determining factor was our struggling runner, number six, and her "do the best I can" thinking. Her passing the other teams' number six runner made the final difference. But it wasn't just her. The girls with p.r.s helped achieve the ninety-five points. Everyone had counted. Everyone had made a difference.

The team coach took advantage of the victory to encourage all his runners; whether number one or number eight, they are each important to the team.

As I kept thinking about this yesterday, I thought of the church--the body of Christ.There are always those in the top-five lime-light, so to speak. They are looked up to and admired for their leadership. They often receive recognition, thanks, and the praise. Too often, those of us in the middle of the pack, or bringing up the rear, tend to feel we have nothing to contribute, therefore we are not important. Why try?

We are so wrong.

We, you and I, are the body of Christ. Yes, the leaders are important. They set the pace and set the path that has been determined, but everyone of us is needed.

Years ago I learned a song that went something like this,

The church is not a building.
The church is not a steeple.
The church is not a resting place.
The church is the people. 

That's why we try. We are the people. We are the church. We do count! each and everyone of us. Not everyone can organize an event. Not everyone can lead worship, play the keyboard, guitar, or drums. Not everyone can preach or teach.

Why organize small groups, Bible studies, family picnics, or clothing banks if no one comes or invites others?

Why lead worship if no one worships?

Why preach or teach if no one listens?

That is where we come in: to attend, to worship, to listen, and to invite.

Our attentiveness to a sermon, or our "Amen" might be just the encouragement that energizes the pastor. Our smiles and friendly "hello" at worship or a gathering might be the touch a person needs in their sorrow, loneliness, or depression. A smile to a stranger at the grocery story can work wonders. The Lord can use a note we write, a phone call we make, an invitation we extend, or a word we speak to answer someone's prayer or draw them closer to him.

A personal touch expresses Christ's love in a way that a flow chart can't. We do count.

And those days we fall short? The Lord has someone who can step in, someone who is having an exceptionally good day. On our bad days, we keep pressing on, giving what we have, and overcoming what opposition we can. On our good days we do more that we ever thought we could. Because God puts my ups together with your downs, and vice versa, we have a winning team. Everyone counts.

I want to run a great race, but am thankful for team support when I have an off season. Thankfully we don't have to wait for the final results. We know the Lord's team ultimately wins the race.

Jan, Licorice Kitty and family,
(The kittens spent ten minutes this evening climbing up and down my pant legs. Man alive, their little claws are sharp!)



 

Hoarding Tendencies?

I don't call myself a hoarder. Others might, but I don't. I merely hang on to items that could be used at a later date, maybe. Take cottage cheese and large yogurt containers for example. Several stacks of these wonderful, plastic containers are neatly arranged under my kitchen sink. And, of course, I also have their lids.

Why? Well, I never knows when I might want to send leftovers home with a family member. When given the word, a Greek, honey yogurt container leaps to the rescue, lid in hand, and the day is saved.

With my wonderful collection, I will also be ready if my daughter, an elementary teacher, sends out a distress call. "Mom, Help!  I don't have enough plastic containers for my class painting project. Do you have any? Even lids will help out."

Laughing silently, I imagine myself yelling "Charge!" as I dash into the classroom armed with a couple dozen containers. Mom saves the day, and a swarm of second graders cheer. With all the heroics out of my system, I finally say, "You know I do. How many do you need?"

How many of anything do I really need? I am in the process of rearranging my office area. In the shelving around my laptop I have tablets of every size, shape, and stage of use. There are seven 8 1/2 x 11 spiral notebooks (one from my oldest son's high school days, and a couple that are starting to rust), three steno pads (one has only five pages), four yellow legal pads, six white pads, two inches of small note pads and a little drawer full of post-it notes of various sizes. I didn't even mention the pack of ledger pages that my father-in-law had, a folder full of assorted decorative printer paper, and a folder containing six blue pee-chees.

Stepping on William Shakespeare's toes for a moment, to keep or not to keep, that is the question. One thing is for certain, though. If any of the grandkids need paper for anything, and I do mean anything, I have it all beautifully arranged on my shelves. Need a plastic lid or container? Help yourself.

From soup to nuts, or more appropriately plastic containers to writing paper, I am truly ready for anything life throws at me all because I don't throw very much away. Sadly, if I don't deal with most of it, my children will have all of it when I'm gone. Lucky them.

Spiritually, we as people also have a tendency to hoard. We hand onto negative thoughts and emotions that we should lay at the foot of the cross. We stick them in back closets of our mind instead of confessing them. Then we shut the door thinking that someday we might need to haul them out to remind ourselves what someone did to us. But somehow they continues to grow, accumulate, and putrefy until they contaminate not only us, but also those around us. It can reach the point where so much sin and darkness clutters our hearts, souls, and minds that there isn't much room left for God to work.

Notice, I said, "There isn't much room."? One of the many things I love about God is his spirit can always find room. He can find the tiniest places to seep into, minute cracks in our closed doors and erected walls. Then be begins his work. How he does it, I don't know, but he does it. He softens hard hearts to restore relationships. He cracks solid walls to allow light in. He overturns rebelliousness to create new, Godly desires. He helps us clean house, and then gifts us with a housewarming fruit basket. I don't even have to pay for his heavy reconstruction/housekeeping services. They're free. So is the fruit basket.

“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law” (vv. 22–23).  
- Galatians 5:22–23
Lord, no matter what I once was, I have been washed, I have been sanctified, and I have been justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God! 1 Corinthians 6:11

We can't afford to be sin hoarders.
Jan, Licorice Kitty and family

(The little ones are learning to pounce and jump. They are so funny.)

Book Intro

I have just spend over nine hours editing and re-editing what you are about to read. The original was written months ago as a post that some of you might remember. It has changed quite a lot since then. In fact, this is the fourth draft. I am considering it for the intro to the book I am starting. For this post, I have replaced names with letters that are not even initials. 

Even as I write this, I think I will use fictitious names in the book to protect my family's, especially my granddaughters',  identity. 

************

Laughter and loud voices filled C. and E.’s living room. An evening of birthday fun at our younger son’s home was off to a great start. Everyone was there: my husband and I, our three adult children, their spouses, and all seven grandkids. The adults visited and snacked on chips, salsa, and veggies in the living room while the grandchildren played in the bedroom.

Sometime during the evening, the four-year-old granddaughters both decided to dress up. With the help of the older kids, they donned angel costumes, complete with beautiful, sparkling wings. Then, oh so gracefully, they flapped into the middle of the adults’ conversation. Before long they were flying high overhead, supported by my husband’s hands--first one girl, and then the other.

As each little girl got brave enough to let go of Papa’s arms and spread out her own arms, her imagination took over. We watched her slowly transform from a costumed little girl, hanging on for dear life, into a beautiful, soaring angel. The glow on each girl’s face changed a living room full of happy people into a heavenly place of angelic beings and admiring celebrants. That birthday party had become truly magical.

Now, let’s fast forward from the evening with angels to a different evening that took place six years later--one that wasn't magical at all, one that still haunts me. That day had been like any other. Even the phone call I got from C. during dinner, “Mom, I need Dad to come over for a few minutes. It won’t take long,” was not unusual.

“Sure,” I told him, “I’ll let Dad know.”

Twenty minutes later, my husband returned home with these softly spoken words, “The kids are on their way over. There is something we have to discuss.”

I sat there at the table and didn't move for a long time. Not wanting to look at him, I just stared at my half-finished crossword puzzle instead, and then finally asked, “How bad is it?”

“It could be worse,” was his simple reply.

The evening of my once-ordinary day suddenly became a nightmare. Unspoken questions filled my head. The kids are coming over? All of them? Why didn't I know that O. & O. were in town? Are their boys with them? Are they staying overnight? What’s wrong?

Right away? Why didn't I have more than a fifteen minute warning? Do I have time to fix a dessert or something? Is it an emergency?

I had known nothing before my husband got home; however, I now knew two things for sure. Our out-of-town kids were in town, and all three of our kids were on their way over for a discussion.

To be perfectly honest, though, while I asked myself all those questions, I knew exactly what was going down. It was not good. Fear and dread had flooded every cell of my body, and my heart had sunk the moment my husband made his announcement of the family gathering. 

At that moment, I knew in my mind, I knew in my gut that all my confusion and concerns about my husband’s relationship with our granddaughters had not been unfounded. I had been right. My concerns had not been honestly addressed. My questions had not been honestly answered. I had been lied to and deceived. Finally, I was going learn the truth about my husband and what he had done.

That entire evening is etched into my mind. I can replay it all. Our daughter sits on the floor. O. & O. cuddle together on one sofa. C. sits next to me on the other sofa. My husband sits on the raised fireplace hearth facing us all. The only family members missing are our son-in-law, daughter-in-law, and all seven grandkids.

Anyone looking into our dimly-lit living room can see nothing overtly unusual about this cozy family setting because they cannot possibly hear the silence that roars in my ears. They cannot see my mind as it races in circles, trying to make sense of the coming destruction. They cannot feel my heart beating at an ever increasing rate, knowing it will soon be broken. All my thoughts, senses, and emotions are too thickly veiled for anyone to see, even my own family.

So, there I stoically sit in a silent living room that echoes with noise-filled memories. I look at my three kids and daughter-in-law, and wonder what these people I deeply love are going through. I look at my veiny, spotted hands, and know old age is approaching. I look at my husband of forty-four years, and feel nothing.  I look at everything, wonder much, know some things, yet feel nothing because, in the midst of my mental turmoil, my emotions have become numb with the thought, how in the world did this happen?

The silence suddenly shatters as my oldest son speaks, “Dad, I think you have something you want to tell us.” I become alert. I know, yet am not fully prepared for what is to come. 

Along came hell is the only way I can describe those first minutes. The  reason I felt that way was merely because I hadn't remembered that God is the head of our household. Thankfully, our daughter-in-law O. did remember. After my husband's confession of molesting the two little granddaughters he had helped fly like angels, and the ensuing discussions on the next steps to take, O. beautifully reminded us that God can take something evil and use it for his good. She also stated that Satan would love nothing more than to destroy our family through this, but declared that he would not succeed. God is the victor. 

That is what our family prayed that night, and continues to pray.

By the time morning finally arrived, our prayers were already being answered. The Lord had brought to mind instance after instance of his hand preparing us for such a time as this. That is when I added a disclaimer to Along Came Hell, "or so I Thought."

Hopefully I can clearly show the mysterious ways the Lord has worked in not only my life, but also the lives of my children, grandchildren, and husband as we travel this unexpected, rocky road. God's love, provision, faithfulness, grace, and healing power have truly touched our lives, eased our journey, and increased our strength. Our God is a mighty God.

(I would appreciate any comments or suggestions. jansjournal@hotmail.com    )

Turning in at 1:45 a.m., or so I think, (2:26 actually)

Jan, Licorice Kitty and family,

All the feline family members are fast asleep.

My Tuesday Song

The Christmas Song, written by Robert Wells and Mel Torme inspired me to write today's post. Most people know it as Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire.

My Tuesday Song

Chicken burbling in an open pot

Making broth for yummy soup.

Sunshine beams shining warm on the floor

and clean clothes to be put away.

Everybody knows a broken car that will not run

Makes one's day a dreary one.

Haircuts are out. Grocery stores and the bank

Will wait until another day.

I know my son will come along.

He'll push my car into the driveway by the house.

And leave his car behind for me to use

To hit the highway going east into town.

And so I'm offering this simple prayer

To thank and praise my loving Lord,

"You meet my needs many times, many ways.

Thank you, Lord God, thank you."

Having fun writing something different,

Jan, Licorice Kitty and kittens

The kittens love the wicker basket I put in their room this morning. The basket it on its side with a towel in it for padding.  They have climbed over it, charged out of it, wrestled with the towel, and are now sleeping piled up in the middle. Licorice Kitty watches their every move from her perch on the bed.

  

Stupid Car and My Frustration

Okay, here's the deal. I am not a happy camper. I am bummed out. I am ticked off. There, those should be enough cliches to describe how I feel right now.

This day started out so promising. Now it is up to me to determine how it will play out.

Here is the prelude to this moment:

To-do List

Make grocery list   check
Grab car license renewal form    check
Grab bank deposit    check
Get cell phone    check
Get hair cut
Go to women's meeting
Buy groceries
Buy food for kittens
Buy car tabs
Make Deposit


That seemed very straight forward at the time. It was straight forward until I backed my car out of the garage, closed the garage door, and put the car in reverse. It died! Not again. I thought I had taken care of that problem days earlier. The car worked fine Friday night and Saturday morning.

I tried it again. This time the car went backward until I turned into the roadway. It died again and refused to start. So, there I sat in a dead car that was halfway into the road. I shifted into neutral, got out, and tried to push the car back far enough to turn into the driveway again. No can do. Back in the driver's seat I get, and straighten out the wheels. Then, with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the door jamb, I pushed forward. Yeah, old Betsy began to move. I suddenly had to jump in because there was a slight downhill slope, not much, just enough for the car to start rolling on her own. Toward a post, I might add. She now sits inches off the road on the grass under my big tree.

She will probably have to sit there until one of my kids can come over this evening and push her back up the driveway.

Somehow I need to get to town within the next few days. The kittens need to start eating food and drinking on their own. They also need to start litter training. My friend, the vet, says to start them at five weeks of age. We're there now.

I could check out the bus schedule, but won't. I don't really want to walk to the highway to catch the bus, then walk from the bus station to a store, back to the station, then from the highway back to my house. It's raining. There is always tomorrow. I might have to borrow a car.

It is times like this I get frustrated and feel so helpless I want to cry. I was excited about getting my hair cut. I was also excited about getting the check deposited, license tabs purchased, and groceries hunted down for the next couple weeks. Those are errands I don't like doing. Today was the day I would be doing them. And the women's meeting! I love the ladies, the luncheon, the presentation, but I had to cancel. There is absolutely nothing I can do about any of this at the present time. I just have to wait--wait and hope no one hits my car.

Yes, I could pray, but what? "Lord, please send an angel mechanic to fix my car." I don't think so; although, God does work in mysterious ways.

Yes, I could pray, should pray, will pray, "Lord, help my neighbors be alert as they drive by, and remove my frustration and helpless feelings. I want this day to be the good day you made it to be. Don't let me ruin it because of my stinking attitude and disappointment."

I'm seeking joy in the midst of frustration,

Jan, Licorice Kitty and kittens.

The kittens now totter from under the bed as fast as they can when they hear my voice. Licorice is not very pleased when they leave the protection of their quarters, but she has to learn to let them go a little. Being a mom is hard sometimes.

Mishmash of Stuff

I just caught sight of a small flock of birds fly by my window. At least I thought I did. In reality, it was a rustle of leaves (sounds better than flock) leaving the confines of the trees and twirling off to explore the rest of the yard. I hope the strong winds keep blowing until every member of that dying community of leaves is off its trees and settled in the field across the road for the winter. That sure would cut down on raking projects.

That is what I hope for, wish for, desire. This is what I will get instead, a porch covered in soon-to-be-soggy leaves, and flower beds cloaked in brown and yellowed leaves waiting for a slug attack. That is what I will get; and that is okay.

*********************   Nine hours later  **********************

I am back home. My porch is covered in wet, soggy leaves, and my flower beds' coverings are now prime targets for slugs. Got the picture?

This was a great day for a Cross Country District meet. Two hours of driving each way, rain, wind, and intermittent sun breaks were bearable when almost every possible family member was there to cheer our three kids on, a regular family reunion time. Three grandmas, two sets of aunts and uncles, and a couple cousins watched our kids run the three mile course quickly enough to qualify for the state competition next Saturday. Yeah family.

jmdkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.  Oooops, I dozed off a second there. My mind is tired, hands and feet are cold, and body tired. I should shut this old gal (me) down, fix her some dinner and put her to bed. Tomorrow is a new day. I will think more clearly then than I am right now. I sure hope so, anyway.

Signing off until the 'morrow. Blessings to all.

Jan, Licorice and family,