Song of Job

This song keeps running through my head. I think that Job could have written it.
Blessed be your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be
Blessed be your name.
Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
When there's pain in the offering
Blessed be your name
Every blessing you pour out
I'll turn back to praise.
When the darkness closes in,Lord,
Still I will say
Blessed be the Name of the Lord,
Blessed be his name.

It's who you know.

Several years ago we took a trip to the Pacific Northwest which included Victoria. We stayed the night before in Port Angeles. The next morning we caught the ferry for the island. Originally we had planned to drive our car onto the ferry but at the last minute changed our plans and just left it parked at the Motel.
It was a great ride over until the loudspeaker announced that all passengers should gather their ID for deboarding. In that moment I realized that my purse and thus my ID was in the trunk of my car in Port Angeles!
"Oh, no," I whispered to Jon," my ID is in the car! I hope that you enjoy Victoria. I will just have to ride back and forth until you are ready to go home since they will not let me in without ID.( I come from a long line of martyrs.)
" Oh, get over it". Jon quipped." get in line and we will just fake it( this was before 9-11).
Of course he was right and they let me in. I was so relieved. We had a wonderful day and all too soon it was time to reboard the ferry. While my lack of an ID was not crucial entering Canada, it was to re-enter the US. As we got nearer to the official, Jon joked to those in line around us," I don't know this lady. She just picked me up in town".
I gave him a dirty look, hoping to cover my rising hysteria. Finally I was face the face with the agent. I began my story about having left my purse in the car, etc. She just glared at me and told me to "step aside into that other line". So much for the hope of getting home.
When we moved to the front of that line, the man looked at me like I was stupid.
" Do you know this woman?" he asked Jon. "Will you vouch for her?"
"Yes, she is my wife and I will be responsible for her".
Whew, they let me back into my own country. But only because of who I knew.
The same applies to heaven. If you know Jesus personally, he will tell the Father," She is with me".

Who's driving?

Today I heard these words in a song and they say it all:
God, you do the driving
I'll just ride.
You take the wheel.
I'll tune the radio.
I couldn't have said it better myself.

What's the truth?

You may remember our trip to Alameda and walk to that quaint cafe. I reported how we had to stand out in the rain quite awhile waiting for a table. But I forgot a fun story that begs to be told.
Since the doorway of the cafe was full of other patrons trying to stay dry waiting, we moved over to the doorway of the dry cleaner/tailor shop. As you may remember that is where Diane and I counted our resources. What I did not tell you is that it was a very busy place. Men were going in, not staying long and most often coming out with nothing! I had no idea that dry cleaning and alteration was such big business.
Perhaps because we had already thought about how our counting looked like a drug sale, we began to speculate as to the TRUE nature of this establishment. Or it may be that we both like English mysteries. At any rate, as more people came and went, I grew more suspicious.
" I bet this is a drug operation" I whispered to Jon under his umbrella.
" You read too much, girl" he replied.
I tried hard to not stare, but it was almost impossible as we were just inches from their window and we had nothing better to do.
Finally a lady entered the shop and sat down. She seemed to be browsing through a catalog. Huh! That did not fit my theory at all. I kept my eye on her and, to be honest, everyone who came or went.
" Look, someone finally has picked up dry cleaning. What about that, super sleuth?" Jon asked me. I just ignored him.
Then three big men entered the shop and disappeared. Just as suddenly they re-appeared, with the owner. He finished his conversation with them and they walked away.
" Waiting for lunch?" He asked me.
" Yes, I hear it worth the wait,too",I replied.
He didn't look like a drug king. Then he blew my theory completely. He told us that he runs a men's clothing store, tux rentals,uniforms for work, etc. The last three men were with the San Francisco DA's office and needed uniforms for court. Boy,did I feel silly. I guess Jon is right, too many mystery novels has lead me to be suspicious and make snap judgments.
Fortunately God looks on the heart of man and never judges by outward appearances. That's a good model for me to follow.

Better or best?

Today was my yearly eye exam. It is like 'old home week' for me since I worked in the office for 16 years. During those years Ruth and Debe had numerous exams and in high school we finally agreed to purchase contacts for each of them. Up to that point they had worn glasses since they are both near sighted, Debe much worse than her sister. Proof of that, beside the chart, is that Ruth would not wear her glasses at school . She preferred to guess who was approaching her by their shape. Debe would have thought she was at a zoo, if she had to depend on shapes, not being able to read the big E without her glasses.
Now to say that their adjustment to the contacts was uneventful would be a gross exaggeration. Debe promptly lost one of hers the first day of school and had to crawl around to find it. Ruth was another story being very sensitive to pain( don't even ask her about her sty the week of the 8th grade graduation).It was months , literally, before she would insert or remove them by herself. One scene is indelibly imprinted on my mind. I can see her backed into corner of the bathroom, between the toilet and the wall, where a very cute someone is sweetly inserting them. Anything to get a guy!!!
The thing we all hate at the exam, I am sure, is the choices. I don't mean the wide range of frames or their even more diverse prices. I am referring to the exam itself.
"Which is better, one or two?"
After the third try I feel crossed eyed, frustrated ( easy for an obsessive/compulsive who wants to give perfect answers) and totally unsure if my answers are even intelligible. I am always amazed that I can see out of the lenses that are prescribed as a result of my exam. A true test of my endurance. But even more so of my Optometrist's.
On my way home I was pondering again the exam question,"which is better?" Actually, I want the best, don't you?
My Doctor and I were laughing about some of our experiences with Low Vision patients. They often seemed to think that we were holding out on them, as though we had better glasses or magnifiers that we would only dispense to them if they nagged us, bribed us,or pushed us to the wall. How illogical. Why would we withhold the very best for their needs?
God seems like that to many people. They assume that God has a better plan, a better way, a different way, that they can plead for, bribe him for or whatever. But he already gave his best, Jesus. Take him as his word.

Fuel for the soul

On one of our recent trips, a billboard caught my eye. To my chagrin, I don't remember which car it was advertising, but the words are what stuck in my mind," fuel for the soul".
When it comes to that unknown vehicle, there are many possibilities. My grandson Vincent would say that it was a Volkswagen bug. My son in law Mike would probably say a Camaro. Anyone who knows Jon would guess his answer would be a 911 Porsche.
But it was the catchy phrase and not the car that prompted this post. First of, what is the soul? My dictionary denotes that the soul is the non-material part of man. It is often broken down in the mind, will and emotions.
Next, what does the word fuel mean? Here again I consulted my trusty dictionary. It lists these definitions: What is used to produce power, what is the source of sustenance, what provides the necessities of life, gives, support, endurance and strength.
So my question at the time and what continues to run through my head is how can a car, whatever the make, fuel my soul? Or to put is another way, how can a mere vehicle provide the necessities for my mind, will and emotions?
The answer in my heart is echoed in a song by Dennis Jernigan:
Who can satisfy my soul like you
Who on earth could comfort me
And love me like you do?
Who could ever be more faithful, true?
I will trust in you
I will trust in you
My God.
Believe me, no car, even a Porsche can do that!

Two are better than one

Yesterday we drove to the Bay Area to visit with my brother, Tim and his wife, Diane. One of the things we look forward to when we come, besides just being together, is a nice long walk. Yesterday was no exception. They live in Alameda on the San Francisco Bay. We usually walk, eat lunch and then walk home. This time we drove to a shopping center, parked the car and walked in a new area, the lovely older homes of the city . As luck would have it( though I don't believe in luck) the little sprinkles turned into a deluge. But we were good scouts because we were prepared with umbrellas. So we just popped them up and continued our walk to our location, a quaint cafe.
When we finally arrived, there was a long line outside. Seems that the location is well known and the food worth waiting for , which it just what we did.
I have forgotten to relay a vital part of the story. As we walked along, my brother declared that he only had one dollar and I did not have any money . But, not to fear, Diane and Jon had money. Well, Jon did. He confidently said that he had a twenty. Diane was uncertain how much she had in her change purse! As we waited, she opened her purse and counted the money into my hand. I began laughing because it looked like a drug deal there in the doorway of the dry cleaner/tailor.
" I hope that's enough" she quipped.
I do too, or else we will be washing dishes", I replied.
After quite a wait, we gladly took our seats in the little( and I mean little) cafe. There was so much to choose from both on the menu and on the "specials" board. But we finally made our selections and sat back to wait again.
Diane took the time to do a quick tally.
" You should have had water, Tim, instead of that glass of apple juice. It probably put us over the combined total of our funds. Oh, well. I guess you will have to go across the street to the market and get cash with our ATM card."
Diane and I exchanged glances and laughter.
"I guess I will not have to wash dishes after all" I giggled.
When the check came we actually had enough to pay the bill and have a bit left over.
It is funny how that sort of thing sticks in your mind. Just as odd was the fact that God gave me a verse to end this. Ecclesiastes 4:9,10 says " 'Two are better than one,or in this case four are better than two. If one falls,the other can pick him up. Woe to the one who falls and has no one to pick him up" He might just have to wash dishes!!!!

The puzzle

As I told you before, when we arrived at my dear sister's this week, there was a 1500 piece puzzle waiting for us, well for Jon. Let me be clear. I do not have spatial ability. That is defined as the ability to see how things relate to one another. The girls in Jon's family do not have that ability either. Jon's mom loved to say that if they put her in a jail cell with a puzzle and they told her that she could not be released until she put the puzzle together, she would rot in jail. I am not far behind. I even admit to having Jon number the backside of the border pieces of my grandson Micah's favorite Lion King puzzle since they all looked alike.
This spatial ability seemed to have skipped Jon's mom, though his grandma was great at puzzles. Our Debe is great too, though I am not sure who she got is from. Just as Jon loved to do them with his grandma, Debe and Jon did lots of puzzles while she was growing up. Ruth and I would be nearby reading a book.
The above mentioned puzzle was so large that all the pieces would not fit on the table and the pieces were sorted into groups in box lids and a casserole pan. Part of it was complete when we arrived for our visit. Jon was drawn to it like a magnet,alternating between searching for a certain piece and declaring he wasn't going to do anymore. He blamed his eyes, his dirty glasses and even his age but in the end found quite a few pieces. Still when we left, it was as yet, unfinished- though nearer to completion than when we arrived.
Thinking about puzzles reminded me of a way that Jon used one in our home group. He gave each member a piece and put the last one in his pocket( a habit that frustrates his wife and grandsons). As each person added their piece, they noticed an obvious hole. When all had added their piece, Jon talked about how this puzzle represented the body of Christ. The missing piece was like the missing members who leave a gaping hole when they are absent and don't exercise their gift. Made a good illustration then and a good ending now.

The sign

I would like to know who determines what is listed on a road sign. It seems that no matter where I am going, my destination is never listed. Take our recent trip. We needed to switch from Interstate 5 to 99 north in Sacramento. Several miles out we saw the sign clearly marked - San Francisco 50 West and 99 North. Boy, I thought to myself, this was too easy. Of course. I spoke too soon. The next sign said SF 50 West, exit here. No mention of 99 north so we proceeded along in innocence. For whatever reason, I looked to my right in time to see that 50 West AND 99 north were together several miles away on another interchange which was no longer accessible. I glanced up to discover that we were heading to Reno! If it hadn't been so maddening, it would have been funny. The sign with 99 north was only visible after you turned on 50 West. There was nothing to do but get off and turn around and head back to the interchange. Hopefully we would get off in the right place, since there probably was not a sign directing us to our highway. Good thing that I was hyperviligant as there was NO sign, again!
I would like to say that it was the only error I made as our co-pilot but it would be a lie. Being overly suspicious of all signs at this point, I vaguely remembered a trick turn outside Oroville. Yes, there it was, coming up.
"It's a trick", I said." we don't' want to go to Chico and the other alternative from the sign is Quincy and we sure do not want to go there( there is quite a story there for another time)."
We decided to turn toward Chico, only to discover after checking the map that we were heading the wrong way, AGAIN! At least it was easier to turn around than on the freeway. So we headed toward Quincy. Who knew? The next intersection listed Paradise, finally. Well, all is well that ends well, I guess. But I wonder if the sign guys get a kick out of all the lost travelers along the highways.
Jesus made sure we couldn't miss it when he came. He said "when I am lifted up( like a sign) from the earth, I will attract everyone to me." Now that's a clear sign. Brutal but clear.

Welcome home

Have you ever gone to visit a friend, or in this case, a dear sister, and from the minute you entered the house it felt like home? That is what we experienced on our trip. We arrived late for lunch by more standards but it was waiting for us and not just PB&J. We were treated to chicken salad sandwiches with dried cranberries, raisins and nuts. Add fresh fruit to that and who would not feel welcomed?
We were ushered into the master suite for our stay, even though this left the homeowners at a disadvantage with only single beds in the rest of the bedrooms. The wood stove had the house toasty and we spent the afternoon chatting, working a 1500 piece puzzle,( Jon) and knitting( Mary).Before we knew it, it was time to eat again. A great meal was followed by board games, of which I won more than my share!The whole evening was so warm and relaxed. It definitely did feel like home.
After a great sleep in a very comfy bed( I didn't dare inquire where the hosts slept), we were treated to French toast and boysenberries. We sure hated to leave this cozy atmosphere, not to mention the as yet unfinished puzzle.
On the long ride home, I thought about how Jesus said that he was getting a home ready for me in Heaven. It will be created for my personal style . I can visualize the entryway hanging with fuschia baskets. A cozy fireplace with a plush chairs facing it. A library with a never ending wall of books. A massage tub in the bathroom surrounded with plants. Best of all, a sunny sitting room where Jesus and I can hang out together. As much as I long to visit my dear sister again soon, I can hardly wait for Jesus to call me home to my forever place. And like my visit yesterday, the best part will be the relationship.

Quite Contrary

Mary, Mary
Quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
I will have you know that I am not the one that is contrary. It is "the hydrangea". We bought it on Friday morning for the funeral. It was a lovely blue shade with several large blooms. We put it in the car and headed to the funeral in Sonora. When we arrived, the contrary thing was ready for a funeral of it's own. We set it beside our car to soak up the rain and proceeded to the graveside service. There was no way we were going to carry it over there to join the beautiful arrangements, wilted as it was. Besides, everyone would see we were the ones who brought that contrary thing.
After the service, we discreetly loaded the hydrangea into our car and took it home. We put it on the patio table and gave it another drink and forgot about it.
The next morning, it looked fresh as a daisy, if you will pardon the expression. We have half a mind to keep it and enjoy the luscious blue flowers ourselves.
Lo and behold, the next morning it was contrary again. Each bloom looked withered up and sad. That really got my dander up. It seemed to get dehydrated so easily. Another good drink and by afternoon it was it's perky self again.
God said to me" Pay attention here. People are like hydrangeas. They get thirsty and need someone to refresh them. Jesus said that he gave living water and those who came to him thirsty could drink and never thirst again. Not only that, they would overflow with living water for others. That's something that hydrageas can't do, especially contrary ones.
I will be gone the next couple of days but assure you I will come home with a good story.

God's Valentine

Barabbas. Are you familiar with that name? Not much is known about him from the Bible. He was a notorious( well known, infamous) prisoner. Apparently he led a rebellion against the Romans and was responsible for murder. He was imprisoned at the same time as Jesus of Nazareth.
He deserved death but received release when Jesus died in him place! I wonder how he felt. Surely it made no sense to him. He knew that he was GUILTY. Perhaps he had heard Jesus preach or even been there at one of the miracles. It must have been obvious to him that Jesus was a holy man. How could they kill Jesus the innocent and set Barabbas the guilty free?
But that is the radical message of the gospel. God's love was not just empty words. He laid His love on the line in offering Jesus in a sacrificial death while we were still sinners. He cared enough to give the very best to buy us back. Now that is the ultimate Valentine.

The ticket

My close friend Pamela's husband died last week and we attended the funeral yesterday. The sky was gray and opened up with rain just as the graveside service started.
I want to extend a tribute to my dear friend, Pamela. She always said that Bob was God's gift to her. 4 1/2 years seems to short to enjoy that gift, she told me at the service. As the Pastor shared about Bob , I was reminded that Pamela was God's gift to Bob. She brought love, creativity, fun and her Savior to their relationship.
We were honored to be at Bob's baptism and then 7 months later to celebrate their wedding with them. As a radiant bride she came down the aisle to Dennis Jernigan's song, Thank You. Part of it goes like this: "Thank you for loving and setting me free. Thank you for giving your life just for me, How I thank you, gratefully thank you..."
Had Pamela not come along, these last years of Bob's life would have been very different; lonely, empty and hopeless as one organ after another failed him. But her vibrant faith effected him and today he celebrates in heaven though she grieves his loss here on earth.
As I watched her yesterday, my heart was gripped with fear. How would I ever be able to deal with the loss of my Jon? I am ashamed to say that I wept for myself as much as her. Then God reminded me of a story that Corrie Ten Boom loved to tell. She was dealing with fear one night and her Father asked her:
" Corrie,when do I give you your ticket for the train?"
" Well, when I get on ," she replied.
" In the same way, God does not give us the grace for something in the future. He gives it to us at just the moment we need it"
That speaks for itself.

It will find you out

When our Deborah was younger she had a theory that when like this. If you don't get caught doing something, it never happened.
She went through various stages as she grew up, There was the spray paint stage . The target could be the car bumper, ski boots or even the garage wall. Another stage was eating Ice Cream after school when no one was home. What better dessert to follow a cold can of soup? I have to admit that in frustration I even taped a Bible verse on the carton: Number 32:23 "Be sure your sin will find you out".
Fast forward to a couple of years ago. Debe was spending the weekend at our house. She came down the stairs to find our dog on the couch, an absolute NO! She saw the guilty look on his face and told him,
" I know just how you feel. If you get right down, I won't tell anyone".
It may seem that I have shared this to embarrass my Debe , but read on to see there is more to this blog than meets the eye.
Besides being a cheapskate, I am obsessive about cleaning. I even have a 'control binder' that lists the chores for each day. A couple of weeks ago I was cleaning the family room( that is a Wednesday job) and noticed an excess of dust on the trunks we have stacked for an end table. I took everything off and get them both a good dusting. As I got ready to restack them, the stain glass lamp fell on the floor. I began to hyperventilate and perhaps if someone had snapped a picture of my face just then , I would have looked very guilty. I quickly reassembled the lamp declaring to God how good He was to sustain each piece for me. I noticed as I put it back on the 'table' that it was a little crooked. I tried to fix it, but to no avail.
I took a deep breath and finished my work, figuring that it was not THAT crooked and would never be noticed. But I must have been delusional to forget about Jon's super sleuthing. Two days later, I heard Jon upstairs muttering to himself. I tentatively peeked up the stairs to see what was going on. Yup! He had that lamp apart and was trying to straighten it. My "sin" had found me out. To my shame, I did not admit a thing.
Later that day, I thought about how we all try to hide our sin, when Jesus is so willing to cover it with His blood from the cross. But the secret is that we have to 'fess up'.

The yarn tale

It was a red letter day as you will see. I stepped out of the shower to Jon yelling:
" You had better be really nice to me today."
" I am always nice" I replied.
"ell, today you have better be really nice."
"OK, I'll bite, Why?"
" The newspaper guy put more than one Michael's ad in our paper and each one has a 40% off coupon!"
To back up, I began knitting again last fall, along with lots of other people it seems. Anyone in the know, knows that Michael's has a 40% off coupon in the paper each Sunday. For cheapskates like me, that means 40% of a skein of yarn each week. So this was a windfall for sure.
On Monday, I planned my week, including my trip to use my coupons, planned for Wednesday when I was on that side of town. I had a vest I wanted to make and it required 3 skeins of yarn so I was all set.
Monday evening, as I wrote earlier, was a lesson in Bible Study about being a good steward, including how I used my money. God reminded me gently that it all belongs to him and I should consult him before spending it. Tuesday morning I felt God telling me that I was so use up the yarn I had and not buy any new yarn the next 2 weeks!
" Look at the money I would save by using these coupons this week", I argued weakly. Suffice it t0 say that I surrendered to the Lord's direction. The next day as I was on the way to my friend's house, I was tempted to go by the store and just look to see what they had, not intending to buy, of course. Kind of like Cathy in the cartoon, where she goes to the store to check out the Halloween candy on sale, no intending to buy it or eat it.
I successfully navigated past the store and arrived at my friend's house. I shared my dilemma and she held me accountable to go straight home, not passing go or collecting yarn. It was a good feeling to have obeyed and I was content to find so leftover yarn to work with. I was even more relieved when we arrived at church on Saturday evening to discover that the sermon title was "Who's holding your checkbook".
" OK God, I get the message", I muttered.
The sense of peace I had would have been enough but God outdid himself this week. A friend called to say someone had given her two huge bags of yarn and she wanted to share it with me. It turned out that my part came to 28 skeins of yarn! God gave back to me, pressed down shaken together, running over into my lap! ( My paraphrase of Luke 6:38)

Ok, so I am a cheap skate!

The other day I spent the afternoon with my oldest grandson. We got the KFC special ,including root beer, and just hung out, talking about 'life'. When we were finished I asked him if he had time to put gas in my car. That has been his job on our outings for quite awhile. So of a manly thing.
We drove around until I found a station offering gas for $177.9. Though it was a long line, to me, it was worth the wait. We were confronted by a homeless man, but that is a story for another time.
Finally we approached the pump and my grandson ran inside to pay and back out to pump the gas. I just happened to look up as he pressed the &197.9 button( instead of the $177.9 regular that I had driven around to locate) and began to pump the gas into my car. I was too horrified to say anything. I told myself that for $5.00 worth of gas, it did not make a big difference and who knows, my little Barretta might run better!!!
Later, as I told this story to Jon we had a good laugh. Then it came to me that that is how I come to God sometimes. I just want a ' cheap fill up' so that I can be on my way. I always get more than I bargained for. God has love to dispense and guidance to give and wisdom to impart. The best part is that it is free.
If you happen to see my grandson, please don't tell him this story. I would not want to hurt his masculine feelings. Someday it will be a good laugh, but for now, I am not sure he would see it as funny.

Whose is that?

Sunday was such a beautiful day that Jon and I decided to take a nice walk. Usually we head toward the regional park but since we had weeded in the area behind our back fence( which has a bike trail and an open field) the day before, we decided to walk that way. While we were there, we intended to check out the progress of the city crew working on the new street( yes, on Sunday!).
As we rounded the corner, we spied what appeared to be a tree or something in the middle of the trail.
" I hope that that is not one of our Redwood trees" Jon said.
" It better not be" I countered.
As we got closer, we saw that it was not ' our tree' but someone's used Christmas tree- well really two trees and other yard trimmings. They were just dumped right on the trail behind our fence.
Jon, ever the good detective, realized that he knew where the trees came from. Seems that someone on our street had missed the city pickup of trees in early January and it had now sat in front of their house for three weeks. Well, not anymore! Following the clues, he discovered where the suspect had driven his truck through the field and on to the trail so he could dump his' garbage'.
We were both livid. Why did they go out of their way to get rid of their trees. No telling, except they were tired of looking at it each day. Maybe Mrs. 'Nasty Neighbor' told him to get rid of it or else.
As we drug the trees and branches to the central collection point, I brooded over it all and got angrier and angrier.
" How about dumping this back in their driveway under cover of night?" I yelled." Or better yet, why not the whole contents of our garbage can?" I fumed.
Jon just stared at me and kept dragging another load. I guess he thought it was best to let me wear out . Just then a quiet voice spoke in my mind.
"That's what it's like when someone dumps their verbal garbage on another Such words come unsolicited, can wound deeply and often infuriate and, like these trees, are best kept to yourself. Proverbs 15:1 says a gentle answer turns away anger."
I chewed on that mentally as I helped Jon finished the project. After which we took a nice long walk so I could cool off.

Cookie Sheet

Today I have another cooking story to share. It all started because of some bananas that were about to 'go over the hill'. Not wanting to waste them, I decided to make banana bread. When I got the little pans into the oven I concluded that it was a good time to make cookies too and use the same heat. So I whipped up some molasses cookies and popped them in above the banana bread. The house smelled heavenly. Too bad I could not sample either when they were done!
Finally all was cooked and I was left with the dirty pans. YUCK! As I wiped down the cookie sheet, I was reminded that not so long ago, I would have just cooled the pan and stuck it back into the cupboard. Since the cookies did not stick and I do not grease the pans, I didn't' consider them ' dirty'.
About a year ago, a dear friend of 35 years commented on this practice.
She said" You are so fastidious about everything else that I find it odd that you don't scrub your cookie pans too" Needless to say, I was humiliated ( not her intention I am sure), and ever since I have faithfully washed my pans.
As I reflected on all that today, God showed me a parallel. I am careful to deal with 'big issues ' in my life and keep 'short accounts' with God. But, often, like the cookie sheet, I overlook 'minor offenses against God', not seeing them as' very dirty.'
So right there, over the dishwater, I told God,
" You are free to show me those crumbs in my life so that I can be really clean like my cookie sheet. Thanks for caring that much about me to gently show me the 'dirt'."

Singing over me

He started awfully early this morning , Buddy, that is. At 7:30 Nathan the nailgun man was at it again. Buddy came to me shaking. I decided to sit on the floor with him and pray.
Then I began to sing to the Lord. 'Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. There's just something about that name. Savior, Master, Jesus,... kings and kingdoms will all pass away, but there's something about that name'.
All the while I was stroking Buddy's fur and rubbing his ears. I felt silly but continued with 'A mighty fortress is our God'. Now that is a good battle song. Satan may be a mighty foe but one little word will fell him That word is Jesus.
Next I sang
' Lord you are, more precious than silver
Lord you are more costly than gold
Lord you are my beautiful than diamonds
And nothing I desire compares to you. '
As I prodeeded in my worshipping and petting Buddy, I had a tremendous sense of God's presence. There was a warmth and tenderness that He was lavishing on me, sort of like the tenderness I was giving to Buddy. Zephaniah 3:17 came to my mind. 'God will rejoice over you with singing.' Thanks Lord for soothing my heart and illustrating it to me so graphically.

BBQ

OK, I have to admit that I am hooked on a cooking show. I love watching Rachel Ray make dinner in 30 minutes. So yesterday I set out to create the perfect meal. We were to have BBQ chicken, brown rice, and asparagus with homemade biscuits and jam. I heated the grill while I rolled out the biscuits. I took the chicken out to cook and dashed in to slide the biscuits in the oven. Then I dropped the asparagus in the water and put the brown rice in the microwave to heat. Things were progressing right on schedule. With 5 minutes to go, I walked out to turn the chicken and dash on the lemon pepper. A big surprise awaited me. The chicken looked the same as it did when I slid it onto the grill- raw! I realized that the propane had run out at just that moment.
Now the 'perfect dinner took a different turn. I ran into the kitchen with the chicken,relieved that the biscuits were almost done, which would free the oven to broil the bird. I will save you the details of my dancing, hopping and waiting. The dinner was done, though the biscuits were not piping hot and the asparagus was overcooked. That should have been the end of the story except for a note on my to do list about the propane.
But last night God gave me another insight about all this. When we set out to do something for God,we try to get it all perfect. We check and recheck to make sure we have not over looked any detail. But after it is over we see that it was, at best, half baked like my chicken. Without the Holy Spirit ,we have no power source. Jesus said' without me, you can do NOTHING". Good lesson learned, in cooking or serving God. Next time, I will make sure that I have the ' power.'

Swindler?

In recent weeks there has been an ongoing investigate into the finances of the Daniloos in the newspaper. It seems that they were entrusted with money in escrow accounts and other real estate transactions and took millions for themselves. That activity seems so far removed from my life. No one entrusts their money to me, except my husband ,who expects me to pay the bills with it.
Then last week I was preparing a lesson on' being a responsible steward.' A steward is one who is entrusted with something that belongs to someone else and is to take care of it. Sounds reasonable. Until God showed me what he had entrusted to me, namely, money, time, spiritual gifts , my body and my family. He asked me to give an account of those things, one by one. I had to admit that I had forgotten that the money was his and had spent some of it carelessly. As far as my time, I had to admit that I often forget it is his too and waste it on nameless things that amount to nothing. Then we talked about my spiritual gifts and I defended myself there, saying,' but I am teaching.' He reminded me that there were other ways he gifted me that I needed to tend to.
By now I dreaded his asking about how I was doing with the body he gave me. I admitted that I was lazy and did not exercise and knew it was not good for me. I vowed to get out and walk again, as a start.
Lastly he asked how I was doing in caring for the people in my family. I had to admit that I had squandered time I could have spent with my husband and that I didn't regularly contact my girls.
The upshot is that I can now relate to the Daniloos. I too, have swindled things, but in my case it has been from God. But unlike their situation with the law, God is so gracious and has forgiven me and committed Himself once again to empower me to be a good steward. I vowed to remember that all these things belong to Him but are entrusted to me.