Recently, my husband took our five year old granddaughter and 19 month old grandson outside on a chilly evening after dinner. The purpose was to get outside for some fresh air, burn off some energy and most importantly, spend time together before baths and bedtime. I stayed inside and let them enjoy their time together as well admittedly, have some “quiet” after being with them for the day. When it came time for the kids to come back inside, little Coby had a stick in his hand, tightly clenched as though he had discovered something very valuable. His stick was actually a cut up stalk from a pokeweed plant my husband had cut down as their berries are poisonous, thus removing fear and temptation from the reach of small hands.

Coby’s hand, which was grasping that weed’s sawn stalk, was pink and cold from the evening walk so I began to gently “pry” his fingers loose in order to remove his jacket. Uh uh, he wasn’t having ANYTHING to do with that! He wanted the prized stick; it was his…he had found it and laid claim to everything mystical and magical his little mind could imagine. Tears flowed and moans of disapproval began to fill the house as I explained to him “I need to take the stick for a just a moment so gramma can get your coat off’. I’m not sure how much he understood my motives but eventually he loosened his grip and we were successful. Phew! Little boys and sticks are pretty important, I guess.

Today, our message in church was “Don’t Be a Stick”, based on John 15 where Jesus talked about being connected to the true vine. He warned the disciples (and us!) about three types of branches: 1) those not bearing fruit 2) those that ARE bearing fruit and 3) The ones that are not connected. Our pastor used a line that I wrote down because it stuck to me…”Don’t be a stick….some people are pretending to be branches”. (my paraphrase) Why? Sticks and old branches eventually get tossed on the burn pile. As I listened to his teaching, I envisioned Coby hanging onto his “stick” with every ounce of his emotional and physical capacity. He had “found” that pokeweed stick and by golly he wasn’t about to give it up without a struggle. As the images of his behavior from Friday evening floated through my mind the Holy Spirit used it to remind me of how often I grab hold of earthly things, clutching them tightly to me and thinking how I NEED this….I DESERVE ….I CAN’T let go of that behavior, bad habit, or past mistakes. But then along comes the Holy Spirit Who begins to gently pry me away from my false treasure. Phew! Little boys and sticks are pretty important. Grown women and sticks are important, too, as long as they are pointing out a much needed life lesson before being thrown on the burn pile.

My morning scripture reading took me to Psalm 27, one that has been a favorite, thus quite familiar to me from past readings. The things I like about this particular psalm is that I can ask God to teach me. I’ve been told by several individuals that I am “teachable” which pleases me. I never want to arrive to a place in my mind  believing that I have learned everything there is about God, life or myself. Having said that, verse 11 is where I landed and where I focused my meditative thoughts. The verse says: “Teach me your way O Lord, lead me in a straight path because of my oppressors.”  While I currently don’t feel oppressed, I’d be a liar if I said I’ve never felt that way. But, what I want to focus on right now are two key words that stood out to me..way…and path.

If I’m to remain teachable, it’s important for me to learn truth. I can think of no better truth than that of God and He has provided an excellent book to give me what I need–His written Word, the Bible. He possesses all truth and IS the way of truth and life. I looked up the Hebrew definition for “way” and found that it means: choice, alternative, possibility, pick, selection, intention, direction, aim, tack, course. Wow I thought–those expansions on the definition sure shed some light on my morning pursuit to understand “what is the way of the God?”

Society and culture are waging battles to lure me into making choices every day, believing alternatives to God’s established truths, picking and choosing what I can and should believe. All I have to do is browse social media  and my mind is flooded with a wide range of opinions on important topics.  If I lack direction pursuing truth I can easily get off course. I LOVED seeing the word tack among the definitions because I  love being on the water in the safety of a boat, especially one with sails. Anyone who has ever sailed knows that the person manning the sails HAS to know how to tack. Otherwise, the boat won’t move along in the waters or even more dangerous, get off course.

So, to know God’s way and His truth, proper direction and aim are necessary components when  capturing true knowledge of who He is and what He wants me or you to know in order to live according to His will. How else do we pursue this goal? We do so by allowing Him to lead us on a straight path, a trail that is smooth, level, a journey, orbit or circle, in His manner. Wow again! How many times do we refer to our faith life as a “journey” or feel like we are going in “circles”? I don’t believe the word “circle” here is being used as negative, that feeling of describing our personal chaos as “going in circles”; the picture I have of this word is that God can bring us “full circle” in life, in circumstances, from beginning to the end of ourselves.

My brief study of these two words–way and path–certainly were not exhaustive, therefore, I don’t want to think or believe that I’ve totally examined this one verse, but what my short study revealed to me and has left an imprint on my spirit is: I am a woman who needs continual teaching and what I learn should be God’s way, not mine. I am encouraged to ask Him to lead me while I’m learning. My path of life is always going to take me through circumstances and encounters with opportunities that want to pull me in a variety of directions. But, God says even though those oppressors are along my path, He will keep me on course. He’ll do the tacking. He’ll keep the path smooth and level. I cannot think of a better course to follow than that of God’s perfect will for my life and wear the correct shoes while on the path.

I met him at Yad Vashem, the holocaust memorial that is in Jerusalem. We were both standing at an exhibit which held numerous menorahs, candlesticks and breastplates–all items used by Jewish families celebrating a variety of holy days. I hesitated to speak to him due to the solemness in the room, but I needed to know what the breastplates were; I had not seen them before that day. So, with slight hesitation I made eye contact with the man and quietly asked “English?” “Yes”, he answered. I asked my question and he gladly explained what the breastplates were and how they were used. Sadly, I cannot recall which holy day he told me.

The quiet of the room stirred me to ask this kind quiet man if he had family that lived through the holocaust. “My grandparents, all gone. I come here to gain more understanding of what happened. My father survived by jumping a train.” I didn’t detect anger or bitterness as he continued with his gracious conversation with me. In fact, he thanked me for my interest and his ability to teach me in that brief moment.

I could have ended our conversation after his short explanation of the beautiful family possessions displayed under the clean glass. But it didn’t. Knowing that I was in the presence of a Jewish man close to my age who had lost family members made my visit to the memorial museum take on a deeper moment in time now etched into my memories. I felt compelled to tell him “Sir, as a Christian I am so sorry for your loss and the horrible treatment they suffered”. His demeanor remained one of a quiet calm as he answered me “thank you, I come here to learn, to understand, and to make certain this never happens again.”

“Yes,” I answered. Yet, with another surge of boldness in sadness I responded to his gentle admonition “I fear in America we have our own holocaust happening as we allow the abortion of millions of our children”.

He looked at me. Our eyes met as he cupped his hand and with his same gentle voice said, “That is so wrong, for they are God’s created innocence.”

Millions of innocents during the holocaust of the 40s. Millions of innocents in America since 1973. Both groups are God’s created innocents. Both groups have faces, have eternal spirits, have value with God the Creator. Both groups held a valuable and memorable meeting in time on Sunday, March 31 as a Jew and Gentile met in a room illuminated by the lights behind clear glass displaying family heirlooms once used to worship their Creator. Their purpose has changed, yet now give way for encounters and conversations that can only be orchestrated by the Divine or a hint of quiet boldness from one stranger to another.

In two days we will board a plane in New York and make the long flight to Israel. It will be our trip of a lifetime if you don’t count a 3 day cruise to the Bahamas in 1999 that was totally off my radar plans. So, we’ve done the hard part of saving every dollar we could find for the last 18 months or so. Everything is paid. The company handling our time in the Holy Land has taken care of all the necessary booking arrangements. Items we need have been purchased. New clothes will help fill our suitcases. The clock is slowly ticking away the last hours as we do final preparation to be gone for 11 days. What am I doing? I’m cleaning the house.

Why is it, that when we women are going to leave our home for any length of time we go to tireless degrees to make sure it’s clean. So far today I’ve washed two loads of laundry, cleaned both bathrooms, swept the hardwood floor and as part of doing up the dirty dishes in the sink I found myself washing the top of the refrigerator! Now mind you, the fridge needs attention and I usually do wash it monthly, but why today of all days for goodness sake? It’s the 19th of March and I’m doing a job I normally reserve for another day on the calendar!

I also put away the last of my snowmen decor. It was time. My husband has been patient long enough being greeted by my whimsical guys in almost every room in the house. Plus, I figure because we return April 1 that by all rights snowmen need to make way for tulips, daffodils and other beautiful spring flowers!

As I was going about my cleaning chores I was pleasantly reminded of a Bible verse that speaks to the temporary of my life. Hebrews 13:14 says “For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come”. When I get too full of worrisome thoughts or pondering the ills of our current culture, this verse gives me a lot of comfort. Factor in the awesome opportunities we will have  walking the same sites that Jesus did! My mind is barely able to comprehend the anticipation of all the sights, smells and sounds waiting for us as we visit different cities and sites. So, if all of this so exciting (and it is!) why am I cleaning? I think it’s because as women we like things “right”. We enjoy everything being in its “rightful place”. And, additionally–for me anyway–I want to come home from a long trip and not have to pour myself into daily chores until I’ve had time to recoup and acclimate to being home.

As I’m preparing for a trip to another country, there’s another goal for me remember, the anticipation of my “home yet to come”. There is no doubt I will see and experience places that Jesus walked, but my future home is where I really belong and is an assignment God wants me to prepare using great care and hope. Matthew 6:33 says “Seek first the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.” Right now I’m pretty happy with what I have. Our home is safe, warm, furnished with beautiful things that have deep meaning. Dust accumulates and dirt finds it way in, but with a little bit of effort and the right supplies it’s not long before surfaces are shiny and clean. I think getting ready for heaven is a little bit like cleaning house. With the right supplies–God’s Word and prayer–I’m staying clean and ready. As clean as anyone can anyway considering that none of us is perfect.

I’ll continue to read God’s Word and pray. I’ll imagine my “home yet to come”. In addition, in the meantime–I’ll continue cleaning when necessary. Even get to the top of the fridge because I don’t know how long I have until I trade this house for my Home.

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This 2018 summer is not the season that I had desired nor anticipated.  As winter gave way to a beautiful spring I found myself in a usual state of excitement longing for warm days that would allow me to get outside for long walks, runs and bike rides. The month of May was a beautiful month of emotional preparation and then my thorn in the flesh dared to stab me, and ultimately brought all my well-intentioned exercise plans to a screeching halt. In mid May a recurring issue with lower back pain came back to redirect my aspirations.

I found myself nursing my aches and pains with home remedies, a lot of rest and admittedly not doing much physical activity at all, even relying on over the counter pain medication to get through some of my days. In the month of June I was scheduled to ride 100 miles on my bike to raise money to support cancer research that benefits children. I think I rode about 20 miles total–my body was not up to the demand of being on my bike.

A second bout with my back pain took me to my family physician who listened to my concerns, prescribed a muscle relaxer, gave me an order for physical therapy and advised I not ride my bike until my body was healed. The thought of giving up bicycling was not news I wanted to hear, however, I accepted it. Off to a local physical therapy office I went where it was confirmed by the staff doctor–“no more bike riding….” I COULD however, continue to walk and exercise based on knowing my “limits”. So, for the months of June through late July, I was in therapy three times a week for a total of 8 weeks.

Each week during that time period brought new or unexpected results. On most of those days and weeks I still battled pain in my lower hip or the middle of my back which extended up through the neck. As I was learning and doing all my required stretches I found a few good days where indeed I was able to enjoy a walk, complete with a bit of running along my route. I wanted to remain determined and purposeful with my exercise in order to feel good, sleep well, and have good emotional health too. The hard days made me feel very low, questioning if I’d EVER feel better, EVER have a pain free day. I felt robbed and cheated from the summer I had envisioned, yet in all of this I was also determined not to become bitter or resentful towards my body or with God. Many mornings in my time with Him I cried out for healing, asked “Why, Father?” or sat in silence as I longed to be free from this thorn.

Physical therapy visits stopped in late July. August is almost behind me and so is my achy back. I have improved immensely and while I will wait  to investigate a new bike (which includes a proper “fit”) I have resumed walks, yoga, stretches, and even some running. I’m having more good days versus bad, for which I am thankful.

In addition to reflecting on what I have perceived as a “loss” I must also admit to the “gains” I received. In the course of being less active,, which gave me more time to sit quietly with God, I was able to ask some questions of Him that relate to my emotional healing, and true to His Word, He was faithful. Those reflective questions and answers are for my ears alone, but important to note here their significance in understanding the summer I was given rather than the one I planned and selfishly thought I deserved.

Now, as summer 2018 fades into the cool and beautiful shades of fall, I am looking forward to several weeks of good weather to be outside doing all of my favorite activities. I’ll have plenty of time to reflect back on the challenging weeks I encountered as well as remain grateful for new lessons I learned.

Without apology, I enjoy  using social media–specifically Facebook. It’s a platform to stay connected with family members and friends, mostly those who live in nearby cities or out-of-state. My media account also allows me to “post” something about my day or convey thoughts that I ponder from time to time. Almost always, my posts  receive many comments–positive or negative–some of which cause me to churn and mull over MORE thoughts and opinions. My churn was activated yesterday after reading one of the comments directed at a post I had made earlier in the day.

I had posted that on a morning walk with our granddaughter, age 3, her insistence closing the openings of numerous ant hills that we found. I attempted to explain the importance of the tiny openings, but to no avail. She was adamant, using her little index finger to gently move the sand over each opening.

My post received several comments, the majority recalling childhood memories of stomping on ant hills to flatten them. One mom who commented to me, outlined how she’s teaching her child NOT to stomp on ant hills, that they are God’s creatures, comparing the ants to people–‘would you like to be stomped on?’

Words have power. Proverbs 21:23 states “Those  who guard their mouths and their tongues keep themselves from calamity”.  In tandem I love what Proverbs 31:26 says as well, “She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.”

Words love. Words encourage. Words hurt. Words wound. Words instruct. Words speak louder than our actions. Words “stomp”. Words “flatten”. Maybe we stomp  from a place of anger or sheer pleasure. What if we took a daily inventory of our words? This is a principle I have learned from being in recovery for my hurts, habits and hangups, all under the teachings and principles of Celebrate Recovery.

I know that ants are resilient little creatures. The small ones down the road will unite, join forces and reopen/rebuild the tiny doors to their homes. That’s a Godly form of teamwork placed within them that can be a HUGE example to us humans as we encounter setbacks in life whether they be expected or caught off guard.

I know that with God’s help I can be resilient too. My daily goal is to be more like Him than the previous day. I do that by reading scripture, listening to His voice through the Holy Spirit, praying, and surrounding myself with like-minded friends who speak words of love, affirmation, encouragement, and instruction into my life. They are the same friends who help me “reopen” an area of my life that was hurt or damaged. And, just as important, remind me when I’ve been the one to “stomp” on someone who did not deserve the lashing.

This past weekend our lead pastor spoke about interruptions and how God can use them or WILL use them for His purpose. Experiencing occasional interruptions on any given day is not unusual for me, but to be honest with you–I don’t respond to them very well. I like my time . I like order to my day. I like being  in charge of my day.  Yet, having confessed that particular shortcoming of mine, I also need to contradict myself and admit that I DO like interruptions–when they are from God. In fact, this morning during my quiet time of reading and prayer I asked God to interrupt me today. Faithful that He is, He did.

About 9 am I was in the process of preparing my breakfast and had my IPhone on the edge of the kitchen counter. All it took was a small nudge from my elbow and the phone landed in the sink, in a pan with a small amount of water in it.  Just enough to cover the bottom of the phone where the charging and headphones ports are located. That misfortunate mishap that lasted less than 5 seconds became a major interruption to my morning.

I stayed calm. I reached out to our daughter who is employed by AT&T. She gave me a couple of tips, neither of which fixed my issue so I made a trip to the nearest  repair facility she recommended. $95 later my phone is back to optimum performance.

The repair took less than an hour which was plenty of time for me to do some continuing research on a scripture verse. I chose Genesis 1:1 to compare in three different versions and find the definitions of “beginning”, “God”, “created”, “heavens” and “earth”. My findings are the topic of another blog entry, but I will leave you with this to ponder. The Hebrew word for “created” is bara’ (Strong’s #1254) It means “brought concept or object into being from previously non-existent material”. I was sitting in the mall food court when I read that and I almost squealed with delight. Wow…’previously non-existent material’….what an interruption! what a concept to meditate on and journal in my notebook.

Am I pleased that I spent $95 that wasn’t part of today’s budget? No. Am I thrilled about an interruption that gave me time to discover the definition of but ONE word in a scripture that has caused decades of debate? Absolutely.

When I asked God to interrupt me today, I really meant “maybe someone needs to hear an encouraging word from me..let me give you some wise counsel” kind of break in my day’ or “ask me about the hoodie I’m wearing that bears the logo Celebrate Recovery’. Nope. He needed to humble me with a financial trip to a repair shop in order to discover riches in the meaning of a simple yet profound word.

Two lessons today. Do not set a phone near sources of water. God is able to make something out of nothing.

Put a group of men and women in a room and inevitably as each begins to introduce themselves to one another this question rises to the surface of conversation like cream in fresh milk…”So, what do you do?” The query is always meant to spark conversation and discover exactly what profession or job the person holds. It’s usually a non-threatening question unless you detect a tone behind it such as an overactive ego chomping at the bit to tell you “what I do” compared to “what you do”, and even if it’s meant in all sincerity, I do not like the question because I don’t enjoy comparison games or ego trips.  So, imagine that you have just asked me “What do you do?” Well, let me answer that.

Upon rising in the morning and pouring myself my first mug of coffee I head to my favorite chair and open my Bible to read, pray, listen to God and write in my journal. I guess that doing that makes me a prayer warrior.

When I leave that time with God and begin to take care of my household with the washing of laundry, cleaning up dirty dishes, sweeping floors and scrubbing toilets, I guess I’m doing tasks that are usually associated with being a wife and homemaker.  So, yes, I’m a wife. I’m a homemaker (housewife if you use an older term)

On most days you will find that I have performed some form of intentional exercise such as strength training, a walk or run outside, and in warm months bide rides through my neighborhood. Doing these types of exercise are keeping me more fit and mentally alert. I guess this qualifies me to be called an athlete (of sorts).

I attend a weekly Celebrate Recovery meeting at our church home, even serving as one of the leaders on the team. By doing so I guess you could say that I am a leader/servant.

Every week I usually care for our toddler aged granddaughter. Having this time with her, helping her to grow and mature into a responsible adult is time well spent and doing so does not cause me one ounce of concern or regret. I guess you could call me a mentor–although being called gramma has a much sweeter tone and melts my heart every time I hear it spoken. (I’ve evolved from being called Ga to Bomma to “something” that is closely resembling gramma)

To this list I would also add that I am a  daughter, sister, an in-law, a mother, a friend.  So, when I’m asked by a new acquaintance “So, what do you do?” I have to refer to the above mentioned roles that I step into each day, every week, month after month, pouring into years now that are full of routines and experiences. They are are what I do.  And honestly? I’d rather you ask me “Who are you?” rather than “What do you do?”  But, that’s another entire blog entry….oh, did I mention that I also write? I do. I guess that makes me a writer too!