A Work Day

I work in our church office as a secretary.  Being a church, we get a LOT of people who come in off the street, looking for help of any kind. I hate to admit this, but usually I figure someone is lying, or they're trying to fool me so they can just get "more".  The stories are often very much the same. Ultimately, they're just looking for money.

I've been convicted a lot about my attitude regarding people who come in looking for money. Oh, the people might not all be on the up-and-up. They might not all be 100% truthful and honest. But, I've also seen that it's not my job to be the jury -- you know, the one who decides if what I'm hearing is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. That's God's job. My job? It's to love folks, regardless of how they look or smell, how they act or speak, whether I feel like they're deserving or not. The only thing that I'm responsible for is to show them Jesus.

Today, there was a young woman who was waiting at our closed and locked doors before the work day even began. She was carrying 3 plastic bags of clothes. No car. No cell phone. Her husband had kicked her out of the house and she had recently lost custody of her school-age daughter. The night before, she had slept in a field by our church.Yes, there had been some horribly wrong choices that she had made in her life journey ... and the time for reckoning seemed to be looming. She wept. She mourned. And my heart was drawn to hers.

We made some phone calls to see if there was a place she could stay. We talked and I shared with her that when we hit bottom, it's God's way of calling to us. It's actually a mercy, a salvation for us after our choices have done their destruction. He calls us to turn to Him for His saving. I've hit bottom before. I've had God open my eyes to who He is when I was feeling hopeless and helpless. I begged her: "When we're at the bottom, there's only one way to go ... and that's up, especially if we look to Jesus. Look up! Don't waste this time!"

She appeared to listen. But as time went on, I could see that she didn't particularly want my help -- not in the way I was offering it. She never asked for money though. Never asked for anything really -- other than to use the restroom to clean up and to use the phone to maybe find some shelters. She was impatient to leave. Her mind was whirling with all of the ways that she could control this situation and make it better. Before she left, I asked if I could pray for her and she told me yes, that it would probably make her feel better. I stood next to her and gently put my hand on her arm. She smiled at me, and I began to pray.

As soon as I opened my mouth to talk with our Father in prayer, she stiffened. I peeked at her and could see her hands had contorted in to something resembling claws that dug in to her legs. I continued praying, but she wasn't able to stand there with me. She apologized and began walking away, gathering up her plastic bags full of clothes, telling me she couldn't be here. She thanked me for being so kind, and walked off toward the road -- homeless and alone.

And I knew.

I knew that she had made some horrendous choices, all the while probably receiving some encouragement and help from the enemy. There's nothing he wants more than to ruin and destroy the people that God loves so very much. Sometimes, the enemy succeeds ... because we give him permission. Sometimes the enemy succeeds ... because His people don't stop to hear His voice. They want to be the jury and decide who is worth the salvation.

My prayer for her is that she will know and recognize that God is what she needs. My prayer for me was that this heart of mine, which can so often be mistrusting and skeptical, was a picture of the heart of Jesus today -- soft, welcoming, loving, accepting. So often I fail at that. My longing is for my heart to be like His.

Today, if you're reading this, please pray for Stacie (not her real name). Pray that she will come to know and understand how wide, how long, how high and how deep God's love is for her. Pray that she'll recognize the lies she is holding on to, and that she will let Jesus love her.

There's hope ... because there's Jesus.

I'm Middle Aged ... If I Live To Be 116

I've heard it said that life is too short to be taken seriously. I agree 100% with that ... but totally disagree with it at the same time. Just depends on how you look at it.

For example, I don't want to go through all of my life and then get to the end and realize I wasted all that I had been given, that I focused on the things that don't matter to the exclusion of the things that do. On the other hands, I don't want to be so totally focused on the task at hand that I forget to smell the roses, that I neglect to just enjoy what's around me. That, my friends, is what we call a conundrum ... or life.

As I'm getting older, I'm learning more to enjoy what's around me. I still like to say I'm middle-aged, but my oldest son (who is dangerously close to middle age himself) likes to point out that I probably won't live to be 116, so therefore, I can't be termed middle-aged. Whatever. I'd like to say that my oldest son is dumb, but that would really not be nice ... so I won't.

This brings me to another point in that tiny argument about age that I have with my son. The British  have concluded in a study that middle age begins at 55. Sounds about right. Makes me a little more forgiving about that big war that we fought for independence with them a couple of hundred years ago. But I think they're on to something.

We'll just say I'm a little older. That way no one gets hurt. A little older. Maybe a little wiser.

I can sit on the back porch with my husband at night and watch the sun set while we talk about our days, about our dreams, about our family, about our life together ... and not worry that the kitchen isn't totally cleaned or the laundry hasn't been folded yet.

My husband and I laugh about the texts that we send each other, because if we're not wearing our reading glasses, who knows what will wind up being sent. Old blurry eyes and fat fingers do not make for good texting results, but they definitely make for a lot of hilarious fun!

I can watch our grandchildren play and enjoy their creative minds and mischievous attitude ... without worrying about how dirty they're getting, or how much sugar they're consuming, or what other people might be thinking.

I can put on my make-up in the morning and know that there's only so much I can do without resorting to cosmetic surgery ... but still be semi-okay with the fact that I'm presentable, and my husband likes the way I look. Besides, my eyes don't work like they used to, and what I don't know won't hurt me, right?

I'm at the age where if I tell people I took a nap today, they don't question my productivity or my health. Of course I took a nap. That's what people my age do! I just want to apologize to my mother for fighting naps like I did as a child. You were right, Mom. Naps are incredible!

We watch sporting events, movies, go to the doctor's office, see a policeman working an accident and realize that every one of those people look like little children. They're all younger than we are -- and we just smile at each other because we know they're going to be in our shoes one day.

It's the little things that give me joy. Getting up out of a chair without making noise. Seeing the trees change color in the autumn. Being surrounded by our children and grandchildren, laughing and enjoying each other. Hiking a rough terrain without pulling any muscles. Smelling hot chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven. Getting a compliment on my super-cute shoes. Holding hands with the man I've loved so many years.

God has given me so much. I used to just focus on the big things -- like my salvation, or His incredible love for me. Those things are awesome! Mind-blowing, if you don't mind me using an old person term. I know I'll never not be thankful for those "big things" because they're what my eternal life is all about. But, I've learned to slow down, to smell the roses, to appreciate all of the little gifts that go together to make this beautiful life He's given me.

This middle-age season suits me pretty well.

Gracie

Meet Gracie.

We met Gracie 12 years ago quite by accident. She was living with a farmer who decided he didn't like her anymore, so he decided to shoot her. Something about her chasing cattle or something like that. If you knew Gracie like I know Gracie, you'd know that couldn't possibly be true. She was scared of her own shadow! Anyway, our youngest son thought that was absolutely horrible, so he brought her to our house so we could find her another home, since we already had 2 dogs living here at the time. The picture above? It was Gracie eating in our kitchen about 4 years ago. She never left. Not because we couldn't find a home for her, but because we turned down offers when people asked for her.

A rescue dog. Saved by grace. That's how she got her name. It wasn't that she was graceful (look how she's sitting!). But her life story is one of grace, and every time we said her name, we were reminded of the fact that she was rescued, saved, chosen, loved.

Gracie was the only female dog in a household of male dogs. There have been 5 male dogs that have been here at one time or the other ... and all of them acknowledged that Gracie was queen. She wasn't the loudest. She wasn't the strongest. She wasn't the fastest. But she was queen.

When Gracie first got to our home, she was about 2. She had been an outdoor dog, but took to living

in a nice, warm house immediately. She loved her doggy bed and blanket. She loved having her back scratched. She loved tiny dog biscuits and would do a little happy dance to get one. She loved rawhide bones and would remind us every night that it was time for her snack. She loved being with her people. She loved Pommer, our little Pug/Pomeranian puppy and she'd constantly clean his ears and eyes and groom him. She loved laying beside me -- and I can still can see her incredibly long eyelashes as she's laying on me, looking up at me. She loved barking at all of the male dogs, trying to get them to behave. She loved to be brushed. Well, that might be a stretch. I think it was more the attention that she loved than the brushing, but at least she'd put up with it.

Gracie hadn't been treated too well by the farmer where she had lived before. Loud noises and sudden moves scared her. One time, Wes crossed his leg and she flinched, like she thought he was going to kick her. People would come over to visit, and she'd hide, scared of anyone she didn't know. After 12 years of grandkids, Gracie would still hide under a chair when they'd come over, although they would patiently coax her out with a dog biscuit. Taking her to the vet or groomer would cause her to shake and she'd go in to a near panic.

Over the years, she relaxed a little bit, but never did she feel totally safe with people that weren't hers. And we were fine with that, because she had us so she was okay.

Gracie was my sweet girl puppy. Gracie Gray. Gracie Lou. Whatever she was called, she followed me from room to room. When I took a shower, she'd sleep outside the shower door until I emerged. When I cooked dinner, she laid behind a chair at the table. When I cleaned, she'd follow me and find a place to lay down in each room. When I'd have my devotions in the morning, she'd lay by my desk.

Yesterday, we were told by our vet that Gracie was dying. She had a large mass in her stomach, had lots incredible amounts of weight, was vomiting blood, and was so weak she couldn't move. We knew the best thing to do was to put her out of her misery and stop the suffering. As she was laying on the table at the vet's, she just stared at my face. Those big, brown eyes ringed with the long lashes never lost eye contact with me. No, she couldn't move. But, I was still her person ... and she was letting me know.

Our house has been lonely without her here. Her doggy bed and blanket in the living room look out of place. Her bowl has been strangely empty. When I would let Wylie in from the back yard, there was no Gracie excitedly dancing around, begging for a small dog treat. When I stepped out of the shower, I didn't have to watch to make sure she wasn't there.

And it has hurt.

Today, I was having my devotions -- no Gracie, just God and me. And I read a verse that jumped out at me: "When you were few in number and of little account..." from 1 Chronicles 16. My mind went to sweet Gracie. To the farmer, she was of little account, unimportant, rejected, abandoned. She meant nothing to him, but that didn't mean she was a nothing. That was a place where I could identify with Gracie because I had gone through the same thing -- of little account to some, but of precious value to Someone else. Both Gracie and I have gone through dark days of feeling alone and rejected.

But, we both were saved by grace. Gracie was rescued because someone saw her worth. Someone looked beyond to the precious little dog that she truly was. And me? I too was saved by grace. I too was loved, chosen, accepted and deemed of worth. Both of us were saved, received, and abundantly loved.

I'm going to miss my Gracie. She displayed some of God's characteristics -- loyalty, faithfulness, patience, grace. I can't help but think that she's running around the throne of heaven, following Jesus, sitting near Him just to be in His presence, hoping for a back scratch every now and then. She just likes to be with her people, and won't be any trouble. She's been a beautiful story of grace and mercy and reminds me that I'm just like her -- rescued and loved.

Gracie will always be a reminder to me of God and His grace to me. How grateful I am to have been her person.

I Love You

 Saying “I love you” has become so cheap. I love ice cream. I love going on vacation. I love puppies. But what does love really mean? The love that my soul cries out for, the love I was created for. What is it?

God showed me today. I sat down to have my time with Him as I do every morning and we opened up the Word and went to 1 Corinthians 13. First, we see that there are several types of love. Eros is the erotic, sensual love. It’s romantic and full of emotion. Storge refers to family love, like between parent and child. Philia speaks of affection and friendship, probably the highest level of love that man on his own is capable of.  Me? I want that agape love. A love that is unchanging, unconditional. I want God to love this agape love through me because I’m sure not able on my own.

Here are my observations and my paraphrase of 1 Corinthians 13:

Love is not a feeling but more of an action. 

It means I choose you. 

I am set on you. 

I endure with you, for you. 

I will serve you. 

I won’t bubble over or blow up when I get angry. 

I won’t be a show-off who needs attention, or a proud puffed-up arrogant creep. 

I won’t demand my own way. 

I won’t try to make you angry. 

I won’t count up and hold onto all of the wrongs committed against me and cling to the hurt. 

Instead I will share in God’s grace with you, His grace that extends to both of us. 

I will endure in every condition, be confident in every situation, actively wait for God’s fulfillment in every moment, and remain steadfast in God‘s power. 

Never will I walk away. 

Never will I allow this to end, because I choose you. 

That is what Jesus does for me and when I say “I love you”, that is my choice for you. 

How grateful I am that God doesn’t waste anything, even when I do my best to mess it up. And He began it all by reminding me of how He loves me, by painting the picture of 1 Corinthians 13. Slowly, steadily, He’s transforming me from the inside out, teaching me how to live, how to love. 

I love you. It’s more than just words...

Do It Anyway

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.

In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

-this version is credited to Mother Teresa

I love this piece written by Mother Teresa. It speaks to my heart. Probably because I often feel like people are unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered ... that there are unfaithful people around me ... that there are deceivers and ungrateful people surrounding me ... that it doesn't matter how much I do, it's not enough. All of that is focused on me though (did you notice that?!). People are self-centered because they're not looking out for ME. People aren't faithful to ME. People are deceiving ME. People aren't grateful to ME. Each line of Mother Teresa's piece starts out that way, but the second line  is an encouragement to look outside of ourselves.

The best line? "In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway." It's what it all comes back to in the first place -- Who I'm serving, why I'm doing what I'm doing, what the ultimate focus is to be. It's all about God. That's the beginning ... the middle ... and the end. Anything else is not enough.

It all comes down to this. Dealing with people is hurtful. They're not always nice. They are often stupid, without remorse, refusing to change. I can be the Judge -- weighing the evidence, finding them guilty, and walking away. And who on earth would blame me? People don't deserve mercy or grace when they're determined to continue doing wrong, right?! But where do I fit in this picture? Am I really the Judge (especially when I try to sit in that seat) or am I one of those people determined to continue doing wrong? Where would I be if God had refused to extend His grace and mercy to me? Like Mother Teresa says, He "did it anyway".

As He did for me, so I must do for others. Because He forgave, so do I. They don't deserve it, but neither did I. God does, though. He deserves my best. And the most amazing thing? When I look at people the way God does, I see their need ... I see their hurts ... I see their potential. It makes the "doing it anyway" a special blessing, because I'm serving those that He loves ... the ones that He's given me a love for as well. How can I do any less when I consider all that He's done for me?

God Speaks Through Cashiers

You want to know what I hate? Probably not, but unfortunately, I'm going to tell you anyway. I absolutely HATE when I feel like what I'm doing is the right thing, but it winds up being the absolutely last thing I should be doing. It is a miserable feeling to look back and see all of the "wrong" when you were blindly going your way. You'd think that at my age (which is still relatively young ... if you're a tree or a fine wine), I'd recognize that kind of stuff by now. But just this week, I was reminded vividly of how far I still have to go.

And, of course, that just devastated me. Honestly, my intentions were good. I was trying to do the right thing. But, it was all in my power. There's the give-away -- MY power. I had been experiencing a struggle and was trying to work through it on my own, doing what I felt was best. I had prayed about it, but obviously hadn't released it to the Father and was still working as mightily as I could to "fix" it.  God was faithful to bring me up short and remind me that what I "feel" and "think" aren't necessarily what is right and true ... and yes, I hate that. I hate the fact that I continue to mess up over and over and over and over (you get the idea, right?).

It was a routine trip to Wal-Mart. As I was standing in the grocery store line, watching the bill add up for the 5 people living in this house, I guess my face was like an open book. The cashier, who is one of my favorites there and I always try to get in her line, was chatting as she was ringing up the groceries. Suddenly, she stopped and said, "Is everything okay? You seem like something is wrong." Well, I certainly wasn't going to go in to all of life's drama with the cashier at Wal-Mart, so I very politely lied (yes, I lied) and said, "No, everything's fine. I'm just preoccupied and busy, I guess." So, I made it a point to chat her up a little bit more, like I usually do, just to prove my point that I was, in fact, "fine". As I was leaving, however, she said to me, "I just want you to know that God is in control ... and He loves you very much." I stammered a thank you to her, and then hurried out of the store as quickly as I could so she couldn't see me dissolve in tears. I very definitely appreciated her kind word ... but even more, I appreciated the fact that God used her to encourage me as He continues to teach me a hard life's lesson.

The cashier may never know how she ministered to me this morning (I just might tell her one of these days if I could manage to do it without crying!). But I felt like she was literally God's mouthpiece to me -- to encourage me to hang in there, to remind me of His love despite my failings, and to assure me of His sovereign power and control. Even in the middle of a difficult circumstance, God took the time to reach out to me, all through a sweet lady working at Wal-Mart ... and THAT I love!

Wishing For Long Arms

I know what you're thinking. Diana, what an incredibly beautiful picture of two models you've posted! Well, sorry to disappoint you ... but those two gorgeous, young, unwrinkled blondes are my husband and me a few years back. And by a few years, I'm talking 31 years ago. This was the picture that we put on our wedding invitation. Wes has been likened to Grizzly Adams with his full, bushy beard and headful of hair. Now that I think about it, I think this is one of the few times I've ever seen him wear a tie. Man! He really loved me to wear a tie for our picture!! I, on the other hand, had the Farrah Fawcett hairstyle (accented beautifully with Sun-In Hair Color) and lacquered down with about 100 pounds of hairspray. Considering that I only weighed 98 pounds at the time, this was quite a feat. Yes, it's true -- the hairspray I used doubled my body weight. But, my hair looked great.

Weren't we a cute couple?! Little did we know what was ahead of us. Here we are 31 years, 4 children, 2 grandbabies, and 9 dogs later. Neither one of us have quite the hair that we had once upon a time, and the gray is way more noticeable now than the blond. We've added a few pounds, but Wes has somehow managed to dodge the wrinkles better than I have. And there is no way in the world that we'd agree to sit down in grass like this picture shows again. First of all, because I'm deathly afraid of getting a tick, but secondly because I don't know if either one of us could manage to get up again. We'd be stuck in this pose until we died and then a special casket would have to be made to hold us both. But you know what? I think we're still a cute couple!! We still walk down the street holding hands. We can still practically read each other's thoughts.He still makes me laugh and giggle like I was 18 again.

Last night, as I was almost asleep, I felt this shaking from the other side of the bed. No, it wasn't an earthquake. No, it wasn't one of the many dogs that tries to sneak in to the bed to sleep with us (by the way, we only have 3 dogs now). It was my husband trying in vain to reach an itchy spot on his back. When he realized I was awake, he said, "I wish my arms were longer so I could scratch my own back." And I laid there and laughed. Now that I'm wide awake, I see that I should have offered to scratch my poor husband's back. Instead, I managed a weak giggle and then promptly fell asleep. Sorry about that, Wes! I definitely owe you a back scratching!

We've had a lot of "wishes" over the years. In our poorer days, we'd wish for money enough to go out to eat ... or for the ability to buy a car that was younger than we were. Once our house was full of children, we'd wish for a night alone in our bed without children and pets invading us ... or the opportunity to have a full, uninterrupted conversation. Now that we're dealing with an empty nest, we wish for the children to come home more ... or that I could actually make it to 10:00 pm without falling asleep on the couch.

Wes and I married young. We met just a few weeks after I turned 18, were engaged 3 months later, married a year later, and had our first baby a year after that. Life has been a whirlwind ever since. And it's been full of wishes. But even better than that, it's been full of promises kept and dreams fulfilled. Honestly, I'm sure he has wished more than once over the years that I would lose the ability to speak ... or that I would quit trying to organize everything around me. He still laughs at my spices that are in alphabetical order (but he can find anything he's looking for in there!!). Regardless of what he's wished, he's managed to do what he promised when we stood in front of 300 people. He's hung around (yay!), provided for our family, been an incredible dad, loved me like I'm forever 18, and been my best friend.

Wishes are definitely fun to make. But you can't build a home on wishes alone. It takes the foundation of a promise kept, a commitment made, and a vow taken. And I'm so grateful that I met a man who stood by his word. To add to all of that, he opens the cemented jelly jars, kills the deadliest spiders, changes light bulbs, and looks at me like I'm still 18 ... but that's another blog. :)