The time will never be just right

Gifts that truly keep on giving

2010-12-29T09:14:00.002-07:00

Back in the winter of 1984 I was a young married woman, pregnant with my first child. My husband had departed for air force basic training a few weeks before Christmas and I was living with my parents until we moved to our first duty station.
I had a couple months to go before my life got busy with a newborn and I wasn’t working except to clean the house and help with laundry and cooking.
Then I got a phone call.
Dave Lace was my former neighbor and was the editor of our hometown paper. He was calling to offer me a temporary job. I have no clue why he called me. I don’t know if he saw my folks and they told him I was bored. I’m fairly certain he had not a single clue that I would love to be a writer. He paid me some much needed cash to sit for a few weeks at one of those new-fangled word processors and write.
I didn’t realize it then, but I was getting my first training in how to create a news story. My assignment was to take the news from the last year’s papers and whittle them down to a few pages of newsprint.
It was a gift from Dave, and I accepted it gladly.
Dave and his family lived behind my family when I was in elementary and middle schools. He had a son my brother’s age and a daughter several years younger than me.
I was always looking for stuff to do. With the majority of kids in the neighborhood being boys, I slid easily into tomboy status and did all the stuff the guys did.
We played football, baseball, and basketball in the driveway. While the summer Olympics were going on we set up running courses in our yards to run. Broomsticks on chairs became our high hurdles. One afternoon, my cousin and I were out back throwing pitches. Dave was home and saw us. He came over and gave me some pointers on my pitching form. Then he said, “It’s too bad you’re a girl. You’d be a good pitcher.”
Dave did not waste words. I knew he meant what he said. It was a gift to me. I filed that away and when the high school started a softball team, I tried out with Dave’s words in the back of my head and my parents encouraging me to give it a try. Bronchitis took away my shot at the team, but Dave’s words years before made me think I could be a softball player.
A few years after that, I got his call to come write for a short season. I loved it! I loved the people, the atmosphere, the electric charge that coursed through the newsroom; how each part of the business fit together to make a working whole.
Over the course of the next decade or so, Dave lost his job at the paper. Politics don’t always allow journalists to do their jobs. I moved twice, had my four children. Every now and then dad or mom would tell me they ran into Dave and he asked how I was and what I was up to.
Having moved back home, I went through a couple jobs, God always preparing the next position for me as the one I was in was ending. That happened in the spring of 2000.
My job processing film for a church directory company was being phased out. It was the perfect job for me as I was able to bring in money, while staying home with my kids. Knowing change was coming, my mom was watching out for something for me to do.
“Did you see the paper?”
“No.”
“Well, there’s a job at the paper.”
Oh. Wow.
“You should do it. They want someone who can write and who knows Galion.”
Mom knew I could do that. I applied and got a part-time job as a reporter that soon evolved into a full-time job.
One of the first happy surprises was Dave. He was back at the paper helping out as a stringer. He wrote stories as we needed him to and handled all the court reporting those of us in the newsroom had no time for.
He paid attention to my stories, quietly pointing out areas I could improve, telling me how good a job I was doing. Dave’s mind was chock full of information, stats, tips; and he had no problem sharing all that with me. He so supported my friend and fellow reporter, Jon, that when leadership refused to do the right thing, Dave’s resignation followed Jon’s.
I moved to another paper, but the encouragement didn’t stop. I would run into Dave on the streets of our town and he would always pause to check in. What did I think about …? How did I like being editor?
I would ask him his opinion on leading my news team, how to motivate, when to be hard-nosed, how to go after a hard story when everything in you screams to run the other way.
He would always patiently answer, tossing in a joke or two. More gifts from Dave.
When I headed back to “our” paper, Dave was back too. Back on the court beat, back providing background details to stories that us younger or “not native” folks had no way of knowing.
When I was promoted to editor, filling Dave’s shoes decades after he had had them removed, he came to my desk beaming. He had no doubt I could to the job and do it well. No hesitation. No problems working for this kid he once taught how to dig into old news to create new.
Tips came to my desk from his listening post at a table of coffee-drinking retirees at McDonalds. He never steered me wrong.
Eventually, we became aware that Dave wasn’t doing very well. His mind was hit and miss. He seemed to be ailing. Needing him, his expertise, his encouragement, I sometimes pushed too hard, refusing to believe the truth before me that Dave was just not able to do what he once was capable of.
He quit working. I clung to him that last day he was in the office, inadequately offering my thanks for all he had done for me, telling him I loved him.
I continued to see him around town, at the Y. He always told me I was doing a great job. He never failed to push me, even when he couldn’t get my name right. Alzheimer’s eventually put him in a skilled nursing facility. A new job brought me to Wyoming.
On Monday, one of the first e-mails I got was from a friend and colleague sending a link to my former paper’s obituary section. No comment, just a link. I was stunned to find Dave’s name listed.
I believe, think, hope, pray, that during lucid moments Dave saw his need for a Savior. I loved that man, but I failed in my calling to do what was needed to bring those within my sphere of influence the Gospel.
He knew where I stood, but I never had an actual conversation about what I believed and why.
He gave me the gifts of love and encouragement; he taught me his craft, made it possible for me to do the job I enjoy now. But I didn’t show him how to have the most important gift of all — eternal life.
Gift giving does not end at midnight on Christmas day. It is a daily thing, of utmost importance. Christ followers have been given, have accepted; the greatest of gifts. It is not one to keep to ourselves. We aren’t always going to know for sure that everyone we love has made the decision which will lead to eternity with Christ. We can know we have done our part and not move through the rest of our lives mourning this kind of regret.
We need to take to heart the words in 2 Timothy 4:2, which say, “Preach the word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage – with great patience and careful instruction.”
It’s a gift, and gifts are meant to be given away.

Ouch

2010-12-19T10:06:00.002-07:00

So I was not feeling well this morning and stayed home. The past month or so has been especially stressful.
I ran out of time for important things.
I put off some important things.
I put some important things on someone else's back burner - I know cause I can't even find it on mine.
I am tired in every way possible and it just caught up with me. I knew it was coming; but it still smacks with shock.
Just because I stayed home from church does not mean I didn't attend somewhere. I usually listen to Bob Coy's service before I head to my own church. They air the entire service on the Web so I get to participate in worship and hear a great heart-piercing sermon.
Today was no different. Here's one take away:
Have you ever wondered what Noah thought when he heard the ark close? When he knew it was too late for those outside the ark to be saved from themselves?
Pastor Bob didn't go the direction I will head now, but his thought made me think - Should we not be hearing the slam of the door everyday? For someone, it is too late. We don't have forever to make a difference, to make a decision.
And if we are Christ followers who are living like we aren't the slamming doors should be continuous. A thunderous sonic boom that echoes through eternity.

The Christmas story: What were they thinking?

2010-12-16T10:03:00.002-07:00

Several years ago a song written by Mark Lowry became very popular around Christmas time. “Mary, Did You Know?” posed some amazing questions. Did Mary know the boy she delivered would be her deliverer? Did she realize when she kissed her baby that she was kissing the face of God? In all of our wonderful 21st century wisdom we can look back and answer those questions.
Though a young teen Mary was well-versed in prophesy concerning the Messiah, it was common sense to understand the Rescuer of Israel, and the rest of us, would have to come as a baby at some point. Israel expected a man in full battle gear. Mary delivered a perfectly human
little boy. The rest of His life didn’t match Israelite expectations either. Jesus had a loving stepdad. What must Joseph been thinking?
Haven’t we all had vivid dreams? Some we believe come directly from the throne of God? We seek help and God delivers by showing us our next steps as He gives us rest. Joseph’s dream must have scared him.
Following Jewish tradition, certain laws were to be followed if a woman who was engaged to be married turned up pregnant – especially if the betrothed was not the father. The wronged party had the right to a divorce and the offending party was to be put to death by stoning. In Matthew 1:18 and 19 God shares with us a bit of what was happening, but not all.
“This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.”
So the angel was not the first to discuss this child with Joseph. Can you imagine the conversation? The feelings of a young girl entrusted by God to give birth in a most miraculous way? How fast do you think she ran to tell Joseph this news? Do you think she bided her time,
waited for the obvious signs of pregnancy to alert her parents, all the while praying to the Father of her Son to give her the words to say and for believing hearts in her parents and fiancé?
We have to keep in mind that everyone was expecting God to raise up a Messiah from among the Israelists. But though they studied scripture, knew the prophesies inside and out, believing God
was still a problem. Prophesies had come to pass time after time after time and yet, in all their diligent study of Isaiah, they still did not see the truth.
What were they thinking?
Isaiah was given a direct prophesy to the house of David, which is recorded in chapter 7. “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: the virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son and will call his name Immanuel.”
Hint here to those old guys waiting for a Deliverer – “Immanuel” means “God with us.” In this case they should have been taking God at His word and looking for a literal virgin to become pregnant and give birth to the Son of God. So like us, don’t you think? Some of us have to be hit over the head with a spiritual 2x4 before we see what God is doing in our lives, what He wants us to do in response. We experience His provision time and again, but “believe” is not
in our vocabulary.
Here is what Joseph should have been thinking: Mary bearing the Son of God was not disgraceful, it was grace full.
Joseph did as we do – he started off thinking “what am I going to do about
this?”
“After he had considered this an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream …” and set him straight.
Guess Mary should have put on wings in order to be believed.
I love the angels presence in the story of my Savior’s birth. They remind me that we have God’s protection through them now. We read an angel appeared to Mary, one to Joseph and a whole host making the biggest announcement in all of time to the shepherds. I love that God uses His
angelic creation to tell others of He created what is happening. But I can’t help but wonder if Joseph was really righteous and actively looking for the Messiah, why he didn’t just believe. What was Joseph thinking? The same thing we would have been – we are in trouble now!
In truth, the only people who were actively looking for Jesus were a bunch of wise men (not just three) and they didn’t show up until Jesus was a toddler.
The only wise men at the stable the night of Jesus’ birth were shepherds. They were expecting nothing but a chilly night making sure nothing ate one of their charges. They got to be part of a miracle. Can you imagine what they must have been thinking? They probably forgot about hungry stomachs, not being warm enough, missing their family members. I bet they talked about that huge star and wondered where it came from; why it suddenly lit the sky like daylight. I wonder if they were thinking they wouldn’t be able to sleep for the brightness of it when it was their turn to try to rest.
I wonder if some of them cursed that light as people throughout history and even now do the Light of the World.
But then the sky got brighter with the appearance of first one, then a host of angels filling the sky. High noon in the middle of the night. Life got exciting for that bunch of outcasts.
What were they thinking? They weren’t. They believed. Men who had little, if any, training in prophesy and scripture just believed. They believed what the angel said, believed what the angels
sang and they had to check it out.
Study of the scripture is a good thing. But belief equals wisdom when we are centering that belief on God. Believing, leaning on Him, trusting Him will teach us more than scripture can. I am not
trying to displace the importance of the Bible. It is God’s love letter to us. But there are a great many more people who have read the Bible and have no belief in God than there are those who believe and have not read a Bible. Study is not a prerequisite to belief in God. As we head into this final week before our celebration of Christ’s birth we need to consider what each player in the drama of that birth was thinking. What about the other people staying in Bethlehem? There was a large influx of people due to the census. They were out of their element, on a trip some may not have been able to afford yet were forced to go on.
What did they think of their place in the events of the night? Did they go and see? Did they curse the light and the Light?
What about the innkeeper and his family? They reacted much like we do – gruff at first. “No, I can’t help you!” Tired, struggling to keep up with the demands of work and family and someone asks for just one more favor. We snap, then relent. And if we are blessed by God we see the good in our reluctant obedience.
The lesson in following God when we are at our lowest, most exhausted state. What were all those people thinking? What about Mary’s parents? Were they there? Were they worried about their daughter? Had they disowned her months before?
After we consider what everyone else was thinking we need to turn those thoughts inward. What am I thinking? What will I do with this Savior? Will I continue to reject Him? Continue to believe only after He acts in a larger-than-life way that I cannot help but see?
What are you thinking?

Iron Sharpens Iron - Blotting out our bad memories

2010-12-02T13:03:00.000-07:00

Raise your hand if you would like to get rid of your bad memories. Okay, a bunch of you look really silly right now! But seriously, wouldn’t we all like to do away with some of the weaker displays of our character? Or maybe some horrible thing that happened? Or maybe just some stupid thing that creeps into our mind at inopportune moments — a stealth memory intent on your mind’s destruction?

I know I might be stepping in funky-smelling piles of yuck here but …

A recent article by a reporter at The Baltimore Sun indicates there may be a drug in our future that will erase bad memories. The treatment is intended for those suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome.

I think it’s a bad idea; hence I may be stepping in that aforementioned goo.

Please don’t get me wrong — PTSD is very real, affects thousands upon thousands of people the world over, is difficult for many to get treatment for, and I imagine can be difficult to treat given the varying severity in individual patients.

People with PTSD need help. No doubt. But I don’t think this treatment is the answer.

The folks quoted in the article admit to some problems with the treatment, mainly that they really don’t know if they can eliminate a single memory that triggers PTSD reactions. It could be that one jolt of whatever this treatment is would wipe out entire blocks of memory.

Think about this …

You are in a vehicle accident where someone in the car with you dies, or you are seriously injured. Now when you drive you go out of your way to avoid the area where the crash occurred. Sometimes when you get in your car, you freeze in sheer panic certain the next vehicle you encounter will hit you head on. Your head throbs, your pulse quickens, your chest hurts; you are drenched in sweat.

Add this — a year later you have your first child. You would not trade that memory for the world. The first time you felt the baby kick, the first cry; the first time the baby looks in your eyes and you know there is nothing on this planet you would die for but this child.

So, we have really bad and really good mixed up in one time frame. Your PTSD is getting worse and your counselor asks you to try this new treatment.

What happens if, when the treatment is over, you have lost the memories tied up in a block of time several years long? You forget the accident, and the fact you had a child and all the wonder that goes along with the event. You look at this child and wonder who she belongs to and why she is so insistent that you are her parent?

You see the problem?

Now, I would agree that there are blocks of time we all want to rid our minds of. I have a few years that I would bury if I could. The events in those years are so vivid I can tick off the months and days I would eliminate in a heartbeat. Or would I?

While helping in any way we can those who are truly suffering is a great thing, I think there are too many people out there who, like me would love to get their minds treated just so they could forget all their bad memories.

Ironic how true that is in this world where we fight off Alzheimer’s.

In the Bible the word “remember” is written 231 times. There is lot we are instructed to remember – where we have been, what the Lord has brought us out of, how and what to teach our children, the aspects of God that we are to keep in the forefront of our minds, His provision for us, His rescue when we were busy creating those memories we now want to forget.

The word “forget” is mentioned so much less in the Bible — only 64 times. Many of those are admonitions to “not forget” God or to take care of others.

Of course there are other words and phrases having the same meanings as “remember” and “forget.”

One important one is found in Psalm 103:12, “As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.”

That is a major amount of forgetfulness. Out of sight, out of mind. At least that is true for God. He wants it to be true of us as far as forgetting our guilt is concerned, but we have these pesky human brains that will not let go of stuff.

I hope when this treatment becomes a reality, if it does, there will be a great many people who seek to remember the reason it is not good to forget the bad memories we store.

While on one hand there are large chunks of time I would like to blot out, where better could I have learned the lessons I needed to learn?

David was confronted by the prophet Nathan concerning David’s murder of Uriah and affair with Bathsheba. Afterward David recorded what relief he sought from God during his period of repentance and we find his prayer in Psalm 51.

In verse 1,“Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.” And verse 9, “Hide your face from my sin and blot out all my iniquity.”

Note that not once does David ask to have his memory of his sin removed. I am sure David never forgot his actions; after all, they led to two deaths, that of Uriah and of his son with Bathsheba. David grieved over his sin, but he certainly did not forget it or the effects of it in his life or the lives of those closest to him. After all there are consequences for our actions, and the making of a bad memory is one of them.

In Lamentations 3:19 it says “I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall …” but in verses 21-23 it goes on to say, “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

I don’t mean to treat the horrors of life lightly. There are very good reasons for medical treatment of PTSD in soldiers, in sex abuse cases and for other types of abuse, for accidents, and crimes against people. If I could wave my hand in the air and ease the pain of those memories I would in a New York minute.

But to erase a memory that could define a person, a memory that God allowed you to have and can use for good is not the right treatment for life’s bad memories. The right treatment is to learn from them and teach their lessons to others. Because in the midst of our bad memories is the hope of God’s compassion, mercy and grace. What better treatment could there be for bad memories?

Are we driven by distraction?

2010-11-12T12:37:00.000-07:00

My puppy has a nickname – Marley. My pup is neither male nor named Marley, but those who know her know she has a penchant for getting into things. She is curious and, well, let’s call it “involved” in her surroundings.

Sadie (that’s her real name) doesn’t destroy things in my house like the Marley of the movie “Marley and Me.” She does tear things up that are hers – a stuffed toy, a tennis ball. My hand is a handy chew toy. But that doesn’t last long because she is easily distracted.

When I take her outside she is more likely than not to head off to chase leaves whipping through the yard courtesy of our Wyoming winds. A lovely little bunny could be sitting right in front of Sadie and the pup will chase the leaves – as long as the rabbit doesn’t move.

A few of us were talking Sunday after church and the subject flitted to our dogs and the fact they are easily distracted. The dog in the movie “Up” brought instant laughter as one of us said, “squirrel” and we all laughed and looked. See that dog would be going about his everyday business and suddenly be distracted by one of those smaller furry creatures. Just as quickly, the dog would be back on whatever task he was undertaking.

I am a lot like that dog, and I am guessing so are you.

We keep ourselves busy doing our work – we take care of the kids, are attentive to our spouse, go to work or school and church – and every now and then our heads jerk to the side and we see IT. “Squirrel” (or something equally silly) takes up every available space in our brain and for a time we can focus on nothing else.

I find this happens all the time. I will be cruising at a good pace, doing what I need to do and suddenly an errant thought invades. While listening to something important I am suddenly wondering what time the football game starts. While driving my van I have an idea for something to write. While I am writing I get an idea for writing something different. Most writers I have talked to find that last one to be true. Our brains are constantly writing only not on paper; then we are constantly trying to remember what it is that we didn’t get written down. We live our lives in a constant state of “squirrel!”

Paul addresses this problem with focus and distraction in the book of Philippians. In chapter three he warns about things to look out for – those who do not think as we do, things we think are good for us but really take our focus off what God wants for us. They may very well be good things but not what we should focus on.

The goal is found in verse 10 –“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death.”

A goal is something we strive for, and from which we must try not to be distracted. As Paul says in verses 13 and 14, “Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

The words “taken hold” translate to “apprehended” in the King James. Have you been apprehended by the things of God? Are you living life distracted? Are you on a perpetual “squirrel hunt?”

The squirrels and swirling leaves in our lives are not going to go away. We all must find a way to stay focused. I am not sure what all that entails for me. I would love to know how you accomplish this goal. Feel free to share it with me by emailing me at cshroyer@pinebluffspost.com or editor@pinebluffspost.com. I look forward to hearing from you.

It's Sunday, and I am ...

2010-10-24T09:00:00.002-06:00

It's Sunday morning. Listening to Ken Ham preach at Calvary Fort Lauderdale on the Internet. Ready for church. Hoping I can stay awake.
I got to bed much later than I usually do, then I was awake a lot. Each time I woke up the same song was going through my brain. I couldn't believe it! Even when I got up this morning no matter what I am doing that song keeps pounding its way through every thought.
The song?
"Little Lion Man" by Mumford & Sons. I don't get it.
I like the song. I love the group. Amazing instrumentals. Superb musicianship. But why that song?
I do have the disc playing in the van. But when I came in last night that isn't the song that was playing.
This is the part going through my head:
"Weep for yourself, my man, you'll never be what is in your heart/weep little lion man,/ you're not as brave as you were at the start/rate yourself and rake yourself, take all the courage you have left/wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head"
Just what is that supposed to mean? Why this lyric? Why this morning?
How in the world am I supposed to stay awake in church AND listen to this song in my head AND pay attention?
The chorus admits fault and adds the "speaker" really f***ed it up this time. Uh huh.
Makes me wonder.
I know God uses anything and everything at His disposal (which is, well...everything and anything) to get our attention. To make Himself known in whatever state we are in.
I don't know where I am heading these days. Big change is coming. Okay. It has come before and I welcomed it gladly. Not so sure this time, but it will be fine.
I don't have a desire to continue doing what I do for the rest of my life. Yet I am afraid to move in the direction I really want go in. Fear and insecurity rage that people will reject what I do. What I should care about is if I am pleased, but more importantly that God is pleased with what I do.
The real change that is coming is not just my job. Guess I better get ready.

Iron Sharpens Iron - Taking a lesson from password protection

2010-09-11T07:53:00.000-06:00

I have so many Internet accounts! And each has a different password. That’s for safety, you know. At least that’s what they tell us from the “offices” of Internet-land.
The problem for me, and others I’ve discovered, is that it is just plain hard to remember all those passwords. And personal identification numbers – don’t want to leave those out! Every account needs a different number or series of numbers and letters and we are not supposed to write them down. Huh? How are we supposed to remember them if we don’t jot them down somewhere?
I have a boatload of scribbles all over the place that have these passwords on them. I don’t think I have anything to fear from an Internet robber though. I can’t remember what the passwords are for when I run across them, and nine times out of 10 I have attempted to log on to whatever site and been denied. Then the process begins again. Send an email to myself to allow myself to create a new password for that account that I use so incredibly often that I can’t remember how to access it.
I’m not overly sure they should put technology into some of our hands!
I have one password for one site that I doubt I will ever change. I use the account fairly often so I remember the password; and it is not what I intended it to be so it sticks even better in my aging grey matter.
The password is supposed to read “roadsigns” in a combination of letters, numbers and symbols. Note the words “supposed to.” I don’t know if it was a Freudian slip or a God-intended “mistake” or just my fingers not finding enough characters, but my password really reads “roadsins.” Unfortunate leaving out that “g.” Totally messes up my point.
The idea came to me as I wasted time staring at a photo I took several years ago of the sun rising and burning off a dense fog that hung over a farmers’ field. A stand of trees is in the right corner and in the foreground is a highway guardrail. When I took the photo God impressed upon me the importance of guardrails and road signs in our lives. So looking at the photo, deep in thought about what my new password should be, I thought, “Oh, road signs! Good reminder!”
Yeah. So is “road sins.”
Whenever I type that password I am reminded of the sins I commit each day on the road through my life. Not occasional sins; daily sins. It’s something we all do. That little lie to your wife – “That dress looks great, honey” – when telling the truth is right and what she really wants. Or, “the check’s in the mail,” said as you write it out and slip it in the envelope.
Marginal, I know. Sin, no doubt.
Sometimes as I travel and try to avoid the “road sins” I think I am more aptly identified with a pinball pinging off the guardrails and careening all over the road with no sense of direction. And though my photo clearly shows a rising sun illuminating the start of day, I find many days there may be little to no light on the road I am on – a definite detour, intended or not. There is light to illuminate the road signs.
“Your Word is a lamp for my feet and a light on my path” (Psalm 119:105).
It’s so neat that the Word is our light, our lamp and our sword. We have the proper tools to use as we try to follow the road signs while trying not to commit road sins. You always need the right tools when your car breaks down. The Bible is certainly the right tool when your life breaks down.
God is the right One to post your road signs, the One who knows where you need guard rails. And He can take care of those nasty potholes caused by road sins. Potholes do major damage and are so deceptive – could be a quarter inch deep or a foot deep. You really don’t know until you drive through it. Life’s potholes caused by road sins are the same - you never know how deep it goes until you step into one. You could just get your shoes a little wet, but you could also fall in and be up to your eyeballs in messy, dirty muck.
So here’s the lesson for this week – when you take to the streets watch for road signs that will direct you away from road sins. Should be able to keep clean that way; and you just might be able to assist a broken down fellow traveler.

puppies and paying bills

2010-09-11T07:43:00.002-06:00

Doesn't seem like puppies and paying bills would have much in common, but that is what my day will look like today - playing with my new puppy and paying bills.
The paying bills thing is a pain in the rear that must get done. Some I resent as they do a hard press for more money than I can pay them. So sorry I don'thave insurance and I spent that one day in the hospital for which you would like now to bleed me dry. Still isn't going to get you paid faster.
As for the puppy, the new baby is Sadie. She is an 8-week-old chocolate lab and I adore her. Playing with her will be my reward for getting my bills paid!
Sadie came to live with me as my last kiddo and her Guide Dog, Tatiana, are preparing to move out on their own. Now we can have play dates!!!
I am so proud of Meg for pursuing a place of her own. She is working hard to get her new place livable, which always makes it more your own and worth it. Only a few blocks away from my place, so walking the dogs back and forth have great rewards!
I also have to do home work today. Response posts, a quiz and getting a paper written have to be done, some by tomorrow and some by Monday. Smart thing to do is just hunker down and get busy. So, with another reward in mind I will take the plunge and get the posts done this morning and maybe the quiz. Then AFTER the OSU game (Go Bucks!) I can work on the paper.
Sounds like a plan.
It is a beautiful Saturday morning. Sun is out, clouds are fluffy, not supposed to be horribly hot. Sounds like a perfect day!

The need to post

2010-09-04T08:01:00.002-06:00

Read a blog by Tina Forkner this morning. She talked about her blog and defined it as one in which she writes about random topics.
Me, too. I write about random topics. I also write randomly. I need to write more.
So here I am, starting to write the blog again. I will also make a concerted effort to post my faith page column each week here as well.
This will mean taking a few minutes to add one more thing to my schedule. I think it is an important thing though; well worth my moments.
For anyone reading this who is not up-to-date, I am working full-time, going to school full-time via Internet, adding a puppy to my household, helping my youngest move into her own place and training a new employee. I am also getting ready for a vacation.
The van isn't working so great right now, but all is well in other areas of my life so that is a nice change.
Trying to change my focus and still keep focused.

Must reads

2010-02-13T18:55:00.002-07:00

Okay, so I have been doing some reading, not much writing... which does not get my book written.
Sooooo... I am going to give some recommendations for books to read and announce my intent to set a deadline by which I must have something written.
The books:
"Goodness and Mercy" by Esther Davison
"The Ballad of Abu Ghraib" and "A Cold Case" and "We regret to inform you that tomorrow we will all be killed with our families" all by Philip Gourevitch
"The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien
You must take time to read these books! Worth the time and effort of finding them and reading them.
Now for the deadlines -
I want to enter a contest for the Wyoming Writers Inc. 3,000 words by the end of March (yes, of this year).
Can be part of a novel and I have an idea. So, I plan to begin and submit, then keep writing so it is done and edited by a friend (fiend :) ) who is leaving me in a year or so.
Not knowing the exact departure date means I have to get the work DONE! ASAP!
There. I have thrown the gauntlet down on my self. Now, get to work!

Could have sworn we would be somewhere else

2009-12-31T23:30:00.002-07:00

Wasn't it in grade school that we were told in our Weekly Readers that in 2000 there would be flying cars?
So, here it is 2010 (well, very nearly in Wyoming) and no flying cars. What gives?
All we got for 2000 was a computer scare that turned out to be hype.
The past decade has just been, well, weird. Good things, bad things, and a lot of just plain head-shaking, eye-popping moments of disbelief.
And here I thought I was gonna at least be able to fly home when I want.
I actually never thought past 2000 when I was growing up, so getting to 2010 is just a wonderfully interesting event.
I never imagined as a kid that I would have been to another country (Canada didn't count), but I lived in another country for a three-year span.
I didn't think in 1994 that I would see the west again. But I am back in Wyoming and have made three trips to California, once making the drive there and back alone (something else I never imagined doing).
I never imagined myself with grandchildren, hoped but didn't go past that. Now I have a grandson and granddaughter.
Now it is time to do some other things I have imagined, but not accomplished yet.
I will finish a book.
I will enter a writing contest.
I will get healthier.
And someday, maybe I will be able to hop into my flying car, program it to head to my parents house or one of my kids houses and let it take me there while I read or write or sleep or just sit back and enjoy the scenery.

Happy Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T11:02:00.003-07:00

I just have to say how very blessed I am. My kids are doing great. Nate and Amy are still in the honeymoon phase after their beautiful September wedding. James and Kayleigh are expecting a little girl. Katey is enrolled in tech school, following her dream. Meg is with me making plans to transfer to UW to finish school.
I have great friends, wonderful family, a job I enjoy, a great church with a pastor who loves his people.
There are points of pain - my ex-husband made me cry today when I found out how he responded to one of his children calling to wish him a happy thanksgiving. I guess in my mind when your family is this spread out this far, you make exceptions for dinner table phone calls and aren't rude.
I want to point out to him that you are the master of how your life is. If you want better, you have to be better, act better, treat people better, expect better of yourself. In short stop being nasty. I am tired of excuses and the blame game.
Here are things I am counting as blessings today:
My ex-husband - without him I would not know Wyoming, would not have the wonderful children I have, would not appreciate things the way I do.
My kids - my goodness they are so awesome! Yes, they make decisions I would not make for them, but they take responsibility and move forward. I genuinely like my kids and my daughters-in-law. They are great people.
My parents - so much support for me and my kids, all the time, no matter what. That carries no price tag.
My friends - Ana, Lynn, Barb, Kelly, Tami, Janice, Celia. These women have loved me through some tough stuff. Three seasons of my life consumed by battering and blessing. They hang tough, cry with me, laugh with me, sit in silence with me. I cannot thank God enough for these ladies.
My opportunities - writing for a newspaper was never on the radar. But I like it. I love it. Like any job it has its moments of when-can-I-get-out-of-here, but for the most part I love learning about people, places and things. I love being able to write, putting words on the page and stringing them together in such a way that other people can make sense of them.
My church - after being in a horrid situation for several years, I am relieved and comforted to be part of a body of believers that actually cares about people, not how they look. Calvary Chapel Mansfield gave me the first taste of that and after a short search I have found that at Pine Bluffs Baptist. People who don't go to church because they have been hurt there need to persevere. Find a church that is not a church, but a body of believers who love first and look at you second. I know churches can hurt people, seemingly irreparably, but it is so worth it to find a group of people who love regardless of marital status, how rich you are, what you look like, what kind of clothes you wear, if you drink or smoke or swear. That kind of people will make you want to better yourself and stay away from self-destructive behavior, will help you find reason for your life, and help move you into your future instead of staying in the stagnant past.
Blessings folks. Count them. And make sure you are one on someone else's list.

what to write?

2009-10-04T15:58:00.002-06:00

So, I spent the past two days in Cheyenne at a literacy conference at the community college. Friday was a learning experience complete with writing exercises. Saturday I met three ladies who are good contacts. Two are interested in being in a writer's group and the other is a adjunct prof there with good connections in town. Very nice.
While listening to the authors give readings was enjoyable - hearing what they wrote with their inflections makes it sound more believable than merely reading the words yourself - I have to say it made me feel they were a tad full of themselves. Probably not so, well with two of them. But there were extenuating circumstances for the other one. She was coming off a recent loss and so in the moments she was not at the podium she was a bit aloof. I will cut her some slack.
Through this experience and one via email where I inquired as to how to contact a writer, I have learned a few things about writing.
First, I am not sure what I write will be readable by just anyone. Some stuff is just better off not shared.
Second, if I am not willing to hurt people or at least apologize before something goes to publication there is no point in my trying to be published.
Third, it is possible to write and then revise to hide what could hurt someone. But am I willing to do that? Part of me - the evil, bitter part wants to just toss all the dirty laundry out there and let someone else deal with it. Let the dung hit the oscillating motor. Some people deserve it. That is not how I want to live though.
Fourth, if by some wonderful happenstance I get a book finished, polished, apologized over, in print and in front of readers I feel strongly that though I will need to protect my privacy, I must also allow readers into my world. If someone writes me, I feel I should in some way acknowledge it. I know authors get so well-known and well-liked that they can't possibly respond to everyone, but when you get that good, you can hire someone to help with that. And they can forward on to you those letters, notes, whatever that seems in need of a more personal response. That means whoever is the gatekeeper will have to share my heart. That is a lot of trust.
Fifth, if I am ever in a situation where people buy my book and want an autograph I will thank them sincerely. I may even, on the chance I am having a not so good day, admit it so they don't think I am a snob in a snit. Readers are important people. Without them beyond the experience of having written a book, there is no value in having done so. Dust-catcher hardly seems worthy of the many hours spent constructing sentences.
I am getting ready for National Novel Writing Month. I will admit to cheating a little. I am keeping my hours over this month. The actual month is November but I will have company that month and don't think it is very nice to abandon them in my off work hours to write. I might do some but not what I should to get me word count in. So I will log my hours and try to get it done in 30 days this month and then submit it in November. Maybe write until they come and then finish the last week of November after they have gone. Good plan. Glad I thought of it just now.
See what writing things down will do for you?
The next trick is to write. If I don't let you read it don't be surprised or upset. there is probably a reason. Maybe as simple as I don't want to share. Maybe as complex as you just don't need to know that.
I have 4,700 words today. whew

Upset? Pray.

2009-09-06T19:35:00.003-06:00

So, I have managed to get from January to now without a single negative comment about my work. This does not mean there has been no constructive criticism and I do have one pretty solid detractor that will have to be dealt with soon.
Those don't really count. Telling me something that will improve my writing and job performance is welcome. Someone out to get me without knowing me is inexcusable and needs to be stopped. Praying about that one.
At any rate, a story I wrote hit this guy's radar. He does not know how stories are categorized and therefore took exception to my not telling two sides of the story.
Let's be clear. Freedom of the press is for the people who own and write to do what needs done by their own standards, not everyone else's.
Does that mean I think it is right to be biased in an article? Not at all.
Feature writing, like story-telling, covers one side of the story. Tells of events that are happening. Shines a spotlight on one thing.
News coverage should tell both sides, all sides, as many sides as possible. It should tell only what happened. Anything else added is another article.
Easy way to differentiate them - call news an article and all else falls easily into stories and columns.
To say I am upset about one biased man assuming I told a STORY in a biased fashion is a gross understatement. I don't know how to answer him, other than to stay silent and let the story speak for itself. I could attempt to answer him, in a sense get into a pissing contest with him. But what would be the point? I doubt he would concede my point. I certainly will not concede his.
So other than here, I will stay silent. Let my editor deal with it. (Man is it nice to say that!! Sorry, Ben!)
I will continue to write unbiased articles and interesting stories and columns. And I will pray for the people in this town who are being torn and, in my opinion, forced to chose sides.
One other point. People who come in to disturb, to stir things up in the name of Christianity should be sure they are on the right side. I am not sure we are called to cause problems, but to tell the truth, be gentle and harmless as doves; to move people out from under the law and into the solid, welcoming arms of grace.
Pastors who do not preach grace in action and in the pulpit need to examine their motives. Pastors who weep with the understanding that they, too, are being taught through their sermons should be listened to, their sincerity examined and emulated.
I give my upset spirit to God and pray for us all to see and hear Him clearly.

Brownies, sweet brownies

2009-08-29T19:44:00.003-06:00

I have decided I don't like ads.
One that is really bothering me today - partly because I've seen it too often and partly because it is stupid - is the Burger King commercial that pretends to be an America You've Got Talent show. You could say I should just turn off the TV, but I should be able to watch what I want without being assaulted by bad ads.
Then there is the Pizza Hut pasta ad. Pretend news report. Dumb.
Another one that is bugging me today is the one for the new brownie pan. Have you seen it? Brownie magic or something like that. It is a pan that has dividers so you end up baking a pan of individual brownies.
Now ordinarily that would thrill me. I would want that pan, and the brownies in it. That would be the problem.
I am eating pretty healthy right now. Trying to fit in an airplane seat better. So no sugar. Few carbs.
Enter the brownie pan ad that shows people making pan after pan of brownies with all kinds of stuff on top. Hot fudge sundaes with brownies from the pan, iced, decorated. It really is tempting.
Why can't we have brownies that taste like brownies should, but have no carbs, no calories, no sugar?
Guess that is too much to ask. At any rate today it is irritating. Probably sugar deprivation.

Beating the odds

2009-08-22T19:50:00.002-06:00

I beat the odds today.
I made a list of stuff I needed to do, with only one being negotiable. As of this moment I have crossed off all but the negotiable one.
I did laundry, dishes, finished arranging the living room, and wrote for two hours. Got in over 3,000 words. I also wrote down all I have eaten, drank a boatload of water (trying to sink the boat, ha, ha) and wrote my early morning three pages.
That morning stuff is hard. It is three pages, handwritten of whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it takes no time at all, others I just write the same word over and over again. When I die they will find the dumb thing and wonder where my brain was!
I have already made a list of stuff to do tomorrow, adding two new things, actually three if you count going for a walk and that does count, to what I usually do on a Sunday.
I am going to try to go the Defenders of the Wall prayer group before the morning service starts. I think it will be good.
I have a pretty decent week planned if I beat the odds and stick with the plan. I will be interviewing the woman responsible for the Women of Worship in Cheyenne. Linda Dillow will be the keynote speaker and Shannon Wexelburg will be leading worship. Love them both so I am looking forward to covering the conference.
Part of beating the odds for me right now is in goal-setting and goal-tending. I have a few set - get the house in order before I leave for Ohio, lose enough weight before the trip so I am not so uncomfortable in the seat and can fasten the seat belt (wow, brave throwing that up on a blog), write in the morning journal each morning, keep my food journal, walk 30 minutes every day, write two hours every day, read my Bible every day.
Tending those goals will be hard for me. I was good at it when I first moved to Wyoming, then got very free with my tainted version of freedom - you know, I can do what I want when I want and no one can stop me. That is so wrong! Freedom includes responsibility to not overeat, over indulge in television, move about the planet for exercise. They say freedom comes at a price, usually a high one. My warped version cost me the use of my body, my lungs, my knees, my attitude, my mental health.
So, on this path I must now put up road blocks, whereby I can beat the odds. I need to get healthy in all manner of ways and show that old free will who's the boss!
I just thought of a good verse that goes well with this 1 John 4:4 "Greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world." Certainly God is greater in me than satan is in my world. God wants me healthy and productive, satan wants me dead and that is certainly not productive.
What say? You willing to try beating the odds in your life? What struggles are you dealing with? Set your goals and start tending them. God is on your side and He is greater than anything that stands in our way!

Just thinkin'

2009-08-17T22:28:00.002-06:00

Not much going on today. Allergies are making me miserable, but the fall-like temps are a wonderful comfort.
Heard from a semi-family member who credited my prayers with her spouse getting a job. Not sure it was my prayers, but God is certainly looking out for them. And I need to make a concerted effort to do better on contact and prayers for them.
She is hanging out there alone. I know how that feels, so I should be empathizing with her and doing what I can, even if it is on a small scale, to make things better for her.
Didn't spill anything in the kitchen today. Small miracle.
Was awakened at 12:03 a.m. by a buzzing sound. Sounded like an alarm. I live a block away from two banks so my immediate not-really-awake thought was that someone had tried to get into one of them and they have a weird-sounding alarm.
Figured since I was awake I might as well take advantage so I traversed the semi-darkness to the bathroom and discovered the buzz was coming from my desk. Hmmm.
Turns out when I moved some books I pushed the clock over and it turned on the alarm.
How like God to teach me something in the middle of the night!
How often do we hear an alarm, either literally or figuratively, and KNOW we should respond and don't? If you are doing something wrong, you get that heart-pounding alert that tells you 'just say no." Or you just did something and immediately your body gives you feedback in the form of guilt indicating you done wrong.
Most of the time, if not really all the time (if we would only stop lying to ourselves), we know before we act or speak that what we are doing or saying is right or wrong, hurtful or edifying.
And sometimes, for some of us a lot, we do it anyway. We figure we can always ask forgiveness later. But sometimes forgiveness does not come. What we have done very may well have been the last straw for the person we wronged. They may forgive, but they choose to remove us as a person who can hurt them anymore.
I don't want to be like that. It is time to listen to the alarm.

Cooking 101

2009-08-15T09:12:00.002-06:00

So I went to see two movies yesterday. Had to go to Cheyenne and thought I would treat myself. The movies weren't expensive (in modern terms) as it was afternoon, and if you forgo popcorn (which is in keeping with my quest to fit an airport seatbelt on in just over a month) you can hit two movies affordably.
First off was "The Time Traveler's Wife." Man, was that good! Good story, good acting. Touching. It was nice seeing something with a science fiction background become an endearing love story. I highly recommend it!
Second, I went to see "Julie and Julia" and I laughed sooooo much! Wonderful story, very real. Julia Child was an amazing woman!
The premise is that a woman named Julie Powell sets off on a year-long project of cooking through Julia Child's first cookbook - something like 575 recipes in 365 days. She blogs the experience. This is a true story. The blog really existed. Now you have to know the parts about Child had to come from somewhere, and a quick trip to Barnes and Noble explained it to me. Those portions are taken from a biography written by Child's great-niece.
Well, it made me want to cook! From Child's book! My daughter, Meg, would love it as it is a book making French cooking easy for us Americans. Of course, then I would have to learn how to properly say the names of the dishes. I would need help with that, and Meg fits the bill loving all things French!!
Well, I got home, read some, went to bed, knowing I had to be sure to get up this morning to cover a story at the library (where I am hoping they have Child's biography, I am very intrigued about her now). I am moving a little slow. Just really tired. I get some mail ready to go out, get dressed and remember I have not eaten yet. Quick smoothie should do the trick.
I put in the ingredients up to the protein powder. Turning to the big container of the stuff (can they make that sucker any bigger!!) I realize I have put the wrong container there. I have a matching one that I am tossing all my change in. So I turn to get the right one from its wrong place and knock over the smoothie fixings. Not so bad until you see yogert, soy milk and bananas flowing off your counter, down the cupboards and making a puddle on your great-grandmother's throw rug.
I do not get mad (lovely new response) I just say "Nuts" and pick up the container, push all the stuff that is left into a hand and put it back in the cup. Wet a dishcloth, clean the counter and cupboard, snag the rug and toss it in the laundry room and go back and finish fixing the smoothie.
Now, I have had other kitchen disasters before. Overcooked, spilt, undercooked food. Stuff that tastes so bad you have to throw the whole meal away.
I am well-known for being clumsy, so this mornings near-disaster is not really a surprise. But it did make me wonder if I could get through any of Julia's recipes - without burning the house down. I would imagine the first rule of thumb is to keep the food in their containers! Though I do remember from the movie and stories I have read, that Julia tossed food where it didn't belong as well.
Maybe there is hope for me to be a cook after all.
Bon Appetit!

What to do?

2009-08-12T21:34:00.002-06:00

So today I had a thought. (Before anyone gets funny, let's be clear - this is not my first thought, nor I assume my last. It was just one bearing additional thought)
Actually, I had two ideas. Both pertian to writing. Both somehow, hopefully, will add to my "wealth" of human resources for being a writer.
First, I remembered writing for NaNoWriMo last year. For anyone who does not know, this is a month-long writing session during which a writer attempts to put 50,000 words on paper in 30 days. It is a huge thing. Cool Web site (www.nanowrimo.com) and features opportunity for youth to get involved.
Last year I attempted it. If I remember correctly I got a bit over 15,000 words. This was with working full-time, short-staffed (read 70 hours a week). I did take a week-long vacation house sitting for friends at a wonderful lakefront house. I did write some. I mostly tried to remember I was human and how to breath and function.
At the time I was the editor of a paper and one of my reporters brought the NaNoWriMo to my attention. She suggested enlisting readers of the paper to a group of folks who would participate in the November event. She kept track of everyone and asked for updates on their progress for weekly stories.
It was fun. Most wrote under pen names, as most of us are really closet writers and afraid of someone telling us what we are writing is not worthy of the ink we used to create it.
Most made decent progress, one succeeded in completing the task.
Anyway, today I thought it might be fun to try this with the Pine Bluffs Post. There have to be some closet writers who are looking for a way to start out and get something written, even if they don't meet the overall goal.
I also had another thought. I am seriously considering starting a writers group here for eastern Laramie County. I need to ask around and organize. (Maybe this is another way of procrastinating? Hope not)
Anyway, I know I am writing what God wants me to. The boss told me he can read the difference and knows my passion when comparing my church page columns and the other stories I write for the paper.
That didn't offend me. I know it is true. I can string sentences together, make the story tell itself and not have any feeling in it at all. It is a good story. It does the job. But those who know me know I did not invest any of my self in it.
I am good with a well-crafted story void of my heart. As long as it is not on the church page. There I want to see not only my heart, but God's. I keep promising myself that I will write the weekly offering on Friday or over the weekend, trying to beat what has become a normal 'deadline' of Wednesday morning (publication day). Can't be done. God is in this and He moves in my heart when He moves in my heart. Not a word is written until He deems it is time. That is fine with me. Then I know it is not about me, it is about Him.
That is the way I want all my writing to be. Whether I ever finish a novel or not. Whether I ever have something published outside a newspaper or not. Whether or not I start a writing group, or even attend one. Whether or not I ever reach 50,000 words in the month of November.
It's not about me. It's about Him.

Enjoying the day

2009-08-08T23:02:00.002-06:00

There is something to be said for just sitting and enjoying a quiet day alone.
I got to watch whatever I wanted, or not.
I could eat when I wanted, or not.
I could read if I wanted, or not.
I could play on the computer, or not.
So I spent the day in various pursuits. Read the Bible some, did some word search puzzles, finished reading a book. Watched HGTV.
Haven't decided if that is an evil channel or not. Love the suggestions for redoing one's space. I need some ideas for mine. But there are so many people spending so much money! I know they earned it and should be allowed to spend it however they want, but wow ... a second home in the Florida Keys that will cost $1.5 million! Holy cow!
I realized I lust after some of that stuff. I would love to have a home on the islands that for the most part is open air. They are beautiful properties. But I think at some point I would see that such extravagance is not really a good idea. At least I hope I would think that.
I have had a plan in mind for a long time now that involves me owning a lot of property on the mountains by a lake. I would love to have five cabins - one for me and one for each of my kids. We five could decorate our abode to our individual tastes. They would come to visit and have ready-made accommodations. But when they were not there, the place would be open for pastors and their families and missionaries and their families to come apart and rest. Get ready for the next journey God is sending them on. I would love to have a building for meetings and meals so retreats could be held there. A small chapel is a recent addition in my mind. Not to replace going to church, but sometimes we just need to find ourselves in a sanctuary at an alter prone before our Lord.
I don't think that is extravagant. I could write there and attend to the needs of others. Be a servant to the servants of God. Sounds pretty sweet to me.
So what is your dream? Does it honor God? Are you satisfied if it never comes to fruition? Can you leave it with the Maker of all dreams? Does it match His dream for your life?

Breaking the rules

2009-08-06T18:27:00.002-06:00

How fun is that! Someone actually tells you you should break the rules! Sweet!
I attended a great writing seminar last night. Tine Anne Forkner, local author, shared insights about writing.
Her main thing is not to follow rules. Just write. Write now. Don't worry about grammar, spelling, punctuation, the properly constructed sentence. Just write now.
I was very impressed with the writing lessons she gave, the smart approach to writing - publication is a dream. So you need to put the dream in a box and set it aside ... and write now.
I went to a well-known bookstore after her talk. Looking at the cards I find one with a photo of a little girl gleefully jumping on the bed. The card says: If you done BREAK some rules, you'll miss all the FUN.
Yeah, I don't want to miss the fun. So I plan to break some rules and just write. That is hard for me to do. I am used to editing as I go, so I don't have to get bogged down with revisions later. Already in this blog I wager I have backspaced 10 times to fix words and stuff. Silly me.
At any rate, I have put even this little bit of time in on writing something. That makes me happy.
I am writing on my new computer. That makes me happy.
A nice gentle rain is falling and a cool breeze is working its way into my windows. That makes me happy.
I had a good dinner. I did not overeat and I have not had pop or sugar today. That makes me very happy.
I had a thought I had to put down on paper today while I was driving home from Grover. I thought the thought over and over and over so I wouldn't forget it before I found a place to do as Tina advises - pull over and write now! Handy dandy notebook in purse was what made me happy then. That I didn't lose the thought makes me happy now.
Happiness is a fleeting thing. I am sure something will make me not so happy (actually breaking one of my plates while doing dishes didn't make me overly pleased, but I did not react poorly and THAT makes me happy).
For now I am happy. I am going to go sit. Turn on the tube, grab a book, an apple, some peanut butter, a notebook and a pencil. Ready for anything, including breaking the rules. ;)

Got faith? Dimensional, concrete faith?

2009-08-05T08:12:00.002-06:00

Faith is an interesting thing. It is evasive for a lot of us. Sporadic at best.
At least that is what it might look like if no thought is put into it.
Think about it — the guy that launches out into thin air attached to a bridge by a cord of rubber has to have faith. The gal sailing from an airplane dependent on a silk canopy to hold her and send her gently to land on terra firma has to have faith.
Everyone who banks electronically; who rely on a cell phone to connect us to distant relatives; who, like me, count on a computer to work to get a job done all have faith — in man-made machines.
We have faith that the car will start in the morning. That we will get to and from work safely.
We have faith that the roof will remain above our heads, the floor beneath our feet and walls solidly holding both at appropriate distances from each other.
And all those things are just things. Things that get used up, stressed out, in need of repair.
We have faith that the boss will let us work one more day. That the waitress at our favorite restaurant will serve us kindly. That the cook will do a good job preparing our meal.
We have faith that teachers will do their job and educate our children. That no one will hurt our children while they are out of our direct care.
We have faith that our marriage will last until we die. That even when we don't like our loved ones, we will still love them.
We have faith that our pastors will preach truth unashamedly. That they will minister to us, love and care for us.
That is a lot of faith. In people. Human, fallible, frail, broken, hurting, and seemingly, faithless.
Webster defines faith as this: complete trust or confidence in someone or something.
The Bible defines faith in Heb. 11:1 — “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”
Sure and certain. Sounds solid to me.
I watched a movie this weekend called “Faith Like Potatoes.” The gist is that potatoes are solid and real and our faith must be so as well.
I have thought about this for a couple days now. I was amazed at the lack of faith I have in the one thing, person, Who never fails. Never falters. Never walks away. Does not break. Cannot stop loving me. Or you.
In mulling this over these things came to mind.
A potato is real. It has weight, scent, flavor, color, texture.
Smell it — the wet earth it came from, the starchy white of its flesh.
Hold it — feel the weight, its firmness; examine its minuscule hills and valleys, the eyes from which new shoots will grow if it is planted; the smoothness of the skin once it is scrubbed clean or the sandpapery feel of skin freshly dried from its slumber in the ground.
Taste it — cool, watery, grainy, starchy, crisp.
Now I can tell you all this. I can go get a potato and I know all these things are true.
But what does my faith in God look like? Taste like? Smell like?
Understanding came over me as I watched that movie that my faith in God is sorely lacking. In fact, I felt deep in me the need to plant my face on the ground and cry out to the God who is all I need and more.
But I didn't. Something in me held me fast to the couch. I still don't understand it. No one was watching except the One Who matters most. The One Who would have been pleased. In my minds' eye, I could see my heavenly Father with tears in His eyes, but they were not tears of joy at my total abandonment to Him. They were tears of sadness caused by the moment we both missed.
Sometimes we think we are having a crisis in our faith, but there can be no crisis if there is no faith to begin with.
I know I have faith in God. I have placed my life in His hands. He has proven worthy of my faith too many times to count. In tangible things like rent money, school clothes for my children, a car to drive when mine broke down. And in the perceptible — in knowing and feeling the prayers of others on my behalf, in feeling protection from harm when there should have been none, in knowing I am not by myself on the day I feel most alone.
And, palpably feeling God's faithfulness to me, I turn to Lamentations 3:22 and 23.
“Because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”
New. Every morning. When the sun creeps in my window God's faithfulness is renewed. Each time I open my eyes. Each time I take a breath.
That I am still here proves His faith in me. That He loves me in spite of my failure to fall on my face before Him proves His faith in me. That He uses me regardless of how worthless and ineffective I may think I am proves His faith in me.
My faith in Him may not even be the size of a mustard seed. But it is there. And through His faith in me, it can grow — strong, fragrant, solid, and flavorful. It will be a faith of substance.

Tangible Faith

2009-08-03T22:01:00.003-06:00

I just got done watching the movie "Faith Like Potatoes" and have to say I was surprisingly deeply impacted by the story.
I don't want to play spoiler here, so just the basics. Farmer in South Africa becomes a Christ-follower. He becomes a preacher. The impact is felt throughout the country.
Key to the movie is this - faith is like potatoes. It is something you should be able to feel, to smell, to use.
Made me realize I fall so drastically short in placing my faith in God.
Much to learn.
Much to entrust God with.

2009-08-02T08:46:00.002-06:00

So today I went to the Trail Days Cowboy Church service and breakfast. My pastor was the speaker and gave a timely reminder of how much the United States has become like Israel - turning deliberately away from God. I will reiterate what Pastor Dan said - we do have a Deliverer, just as Israel did. That Deliverer gives us the choice, and the right to make the choice as to whether or not we are delivered.
Interesting thought to sit on.
While I was there, I noticed a guy no one was talking to. He kind of wandered around until cowboy church started. During the breakfast he sat at the end of a long set of tables by himself. Got to figure he is a newcomer or someone no one wants to be with.
Dan and I talked a bit, then got in the end of the line for breakfast. The seats available to sit at were by this guy who was alone. Dan introduced himself and kind of got the ball rolling with conversation, then turned to the others near us to talk with them.
I decided to be nice, try to be a little outgoing in a social situation. Not normal for me at all, but I know what it is like to be in a room full of people and be alone.
We chit chat a bit. He asks if I am the town photographer. I tell him what I do for a living and, being polite, ask about his work. Tells me he works at the base. We already know he has come from Cheyenne, so I make the obviously leap that he is a civilian contractor there.
After a bit more conversation, where I realize he is trying to determine the basis for my interest, he finally says he was deliberately evasive in telling me where he is actually from. Utah.Does work at a nuke base, but not Warren. Just at Cheyenne for a visit. Here in Pine Bluffs for mud volleyball, cowboy church and breakfast.
Now, that kind of offended me. I was not trying to find my soul mate. I was trying to be a nice person to someone I had not seen before.
After he knew I was a reporter, and my pastor reinforced the truth of that, THEN the man was free to talk uninhibited. Didn't realize I was that scary.
Just like we have a choice to accept deliverance, we also have a choice about how we live, how we treat others, how we respond to how they treat us. We can choose to be genuinely interested in someone else without it having to mean more than that.
I think the lesson for me to take from this is that it is important for me to follow God's leading in every situation. Step out of my comfort zone. Care enough about another of His creatures to be uncomfortable. Have to work on the being offended thing. Wrong attitude. Gotta fix that.

The time is now

2009-07-30T17:09:00.000-06:00

So, time to move on and stop making excuses. I want to be a writer.
I am one, but for someone else. I have been writing for a newspaper for 9 years now. Writer, reporter, photographer, editor. Need it done? I'm your gal.
Two things cause me to begin this:
1) My friend, Cherie (a published author of real books) told me I must write everyday. Period.
2) My friend, Ben told me to start a blog and get on with it.
So, here I am. I have started.
I write a religion column weekly for the Pine Bluffs Post, where I currently work. Love it! Best job I have had yet.
I want to write for myself; but more than that, for God. I want what comes from my head, to originate from my heart. And that needs to come from God. Period.
A friend told me she had a story to write once but kind of blew it off, using all the usual excuses — got kids, got husband, don't got time (reality — didn't make the time). She told me when she wanted to go back to it God told her no, the time for that blessing had already passed, at least for now. He had other things for her to work on.
I do not want my time to pass. I want to redeem the time I have wasted and make the most of what I have left.
So, the time is now. I have begun. I will continue.
Hope you like it. But more, I hope God does.